#also evies there too hi evie

[oliviawebsite]

im coolgirl awesome with the nice hips

[your-unfriendlyghost]

evie my beloved…

i was gonna just do my usual black and white comic stuff for this, but i swear to god every time i draw evie i get like…possessed to go all out. I can’t help it.

Also look dx worker evie

[cinematicnomad]

i've got this idea for a canon divergent steddie fic, but it's like. v bare bones at the moment. so i've just created an outline doc broken down by month/year and then whenever i think of a scene or an idea or have a thought, i go in there and jot down where it would take place or add it to my resources section.

which means i just got an idea for steve's graduation, took a moment to add a few bullet points to my june 1985 section, and then went on to iron out everyone's birthdates and names in the resources section.

anyway, will this fic ever get written? probably not. but is it a vaguely entertaining thing to do whenever an idea pops into my head? yup.

[kiwichaeng]

Can you believe 911 Lone Star has TWO (2) episodes where some characters go through their worst day (s) while TK and Carlos exist in a sitcom?

[cadybear420]

This one is so important to me???? For single dads and especially for dads in opposite gender relationships, I wanna see a dad who can take on a motherly role whether or not there's a mom in the picture too

10 More Character Types the World Needs More of

Part 1 was specifically character dynamics, but I’m considering this a sequel anyway.

1. Fiercely independent character’s lesson isn’t to “trust people”

I’m not projecting. You’re projecting. There is a divide wide enough to fit the Grand Canyon between “trusting that someone isn’t lying” and “trusting someone to follow through on a promise”. Most dumpster fire attempts at these characters (almost exclusively women) rely solely on mocking them for the former because “not all men” or something.

Being consistently let down in life makes you hesitant to a) gain friends, b) pursue romantic interests, c) maintain familial relationships, d) get excited about any event that demands participation from someone who isn’t you. None of this is simply a bad attitude—it’s a trauma response. There is no lesson to be learned, and not even exposure therapy can help because it’s a real, legitimate, and common stunt people pull, whether they mean it or not.

So write one of these characters and legitimize their fears, give them someone who proves the exception to the rule, but do not let the lesson be “well they just haven’t found the right person yet”. Even the “right person” can let them down. It's about not becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy by sabotaging a good thing to prove it will inevitably go bad.

2. Conventionally attractive men who aren’t horndogs

I’m going to find every way I can to tell you to write more aces. This is to fight the stigma that attractive people must be attracted to people. Give me gorgeous aces and demi’s, men, women, enbys and everyone in between, who put a crap ton of effort into looking their best, and yet happen to not have a very loud libido. They look good for themselves, and not to impress anyone else.

Give me someone who could have anyone they wanted, gender regardless, and just simply has no interest. Or, they do actually have a significant other, but sex, how hot their partner is, or how horny they are, isn’t their internal monologue. I don’t even care if it’s unrealistic, it’s annoying to read.

And, you know, giving men male characters who aren’t thinking about sex all the time can be good, right? Right?

3. Manly warrior men who also write poetry

A.K.A Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. Just give me more Aragorns, period. This dude is either covered in filth, blood, guts, and the last 30 miles of rugged terrain, or singing in Elvish at his own coronation while pink flower petals fall. A man can be both, and still be straight.

A man can also drink Respect Women juice, you know? He ticks off all the boxes—he’s gentle when he needs to be, not afraid to hide his emotions, kind to those who are vulnerable and afraid and need a strong figure to look up to, resolute in his beliefs, skilled and knowledgeable in his abilities without being arrogant or smug, and the first boots on the battlefield, leading from the front.

4. Characters who are characters when no one is watching

This is less a specific type and more a scene that doesn’t get written enough. This whole point comes from Pixar’s Cars. I. Love. This. Movie. It’s not Pixar’s best, for sure, but this is my comfort movie. The best scene, one that’s so unique, is when Doc (aged living legend) thinks he’s alone when he rolls out onto the dirt race track and comes alive tearing around the oval.

This character’s unbridled, unabashed glee and euphoria at proving to himself that he’s still got it, when he’s completely unaware of his audience, is perfection. Not enough credence is given to characters to just… enjoy being themselves. He’s not doing it to prepare for the climactic race, he’s not doing it for the plot, he’s doing it just to do it, not even to prove Lightning wrong—just for himself.

Give your characters a “Doc Racing” scene. Whatever their skill is. Maybe they’re a dancer, a skater, a swimmer, a painter, sprinter. Just let your character love being alive.

5. Characters whose neurodivergence isn't “cute”

A.K.A. Lilo Pelekai from Lilo and Stitch. Really, her relationship with Nani is peak sibling writing. But Lilo herself is just so realistic with how she interacts with the world, how she interprets her relationships with her so-called friends, how she organizes her thoughts and rationalizes what she can’t quite understand, and how friggen smart she is for an… 11-year-old?

But she’s not “cute”. As in, she wasn’t written by generic Suits who were trying to cash in on the ND crowd by writing what they think will sell, but also making her juuust neurotypical enough to still be palatable by the rest of the audience. Lilo’s earnestness is what endears her to everybody. But also, she doesn’t get a free pass for her behavior, either. Her “friends” aren’t forced to accommodate her and Nani isn’t written as the cold-hearted villain for trying to discipline her.

6. Straight male characters with female friends

Am I double-dipping a bit here? Yes. While I completely understand how tempting it can be, this type of character is in dire need of exposure and representation to prove it’s possible. No weird tense moments, no double-glances when she isn’t looking, no contemplations about cheating on his girlfriend (and no insecure jealous girlfriend either). Just two characters who enjoy each other’s company and are able to coexist in a space and be in each other’s spaces without hormones getting in the way. Peak example? Po and Tigress from Kung Fu Panda.

Let these two rely on each other for emotional strength in times of need, let them share inside jokes, let them have a night alone together at a bar, at home, cooking dinner, getting takeout, talking on the patio in a porch swing… with zero “will they/won’t they.”

7. The likable bigot

I’m actually on the fence with this one but it’s something I also don’t see done often enough and I’m adding it for one reason: Bigots aren’t always obvious mustache-twirling villains and the little things they do might seem inconsequential to them, but are still hurtful. So showing these characters is like plopping a mirror down in front of these people and, I don’t know, maybe something will click. They don’t have to be MAGAs to be dangerous, and only writing the extremes convinces the moderates that they aren’t also the problem.

Example: I have a “friend” who recently said something along the lines of “I have lots of gay friends” followed up shortly by “I don’t think this country should keep gay marriage because it’s a slippery slope to legalizing pedophilia.” You know. The quiet part being that she *actually* thinks being gay is as morally abhorrent as being a pedo. But she totally has lots of gay friends. Including one who was driving her during that conversation. (It’s me. Hi. I’m apparently the problem, it’s me.)

She’s absolutely homophobic, but the second she stops announcing it, she’s a very bubbly person. She’s a ~likable~ bigot and thus thinks she can distance herself from the more violent ones.

8. The motherly single father

I say “motherly” merely as shorthand for the vibe I’m going for here. “Motherly” as in dads who aren’t scandalized by the growing pains of their daughters, and who don’t just parent their sons by saying “man up boys don’t cry”. Dads who play Barbie with their kids of either gender. Dads who go to the PTA meetings with all the other Karens and know as much if not more than they do about the school and their kids’ education.

Dads who comfort their crying kids, especially their sons. Dads that take interest in “feminine” activities like learning how to braid their daughter’s hair, learning different makeup brands, going on nail salon trips together. Dads who do not pull out the rifle on their daughter’s new boyfriend and treat her like property. Dads who have guy friends that don’t mock him and call him gay. Dad who does all this stuff anyway and is *actually* gay, too, but the emphasis is on overly sensitive straight men’s masculinity here.

Wholesome dads: a shocking amount of single-parents to female anime protagonists.

9. The parent isn’t dead, they’re just gone

Treasure Planet is an awesome movie in its own right, but what’s even better? This is a Disney movie where the parent isn’t dead, he’s just a deadbeat who abandoned his son and isn’t at all relevant to the plot beyond the hole he left behind for Jim to fill. The only deadbeat dads Disney allows are villains and those guys are very vigorously chasing an aspiration, that aspiration just doesn’t include quality fatherhood. Or motherhood. Disney has yet to write a deadbeat mom, I’m almost certain.

I just wrote a post about the necessity of the “dead parent” cliche, but what is perhaps more relatable because it’s more common, and what earns even more sympathy and underdog points for the protagonist? The hero with the parent who left. Then there’s a whole extra layer of angst and trauma available when your hero can now plague themselves with the question of if the parent leaving is their fault. Death is usually an accident. Choosing to abandon your kid is on purpose.

10. Victim who isn’t victim-blamed or told by their friends (and the narrative) to forgive their abuser

Izuku Midoriya lost so much support from me the moment he told his friend, bearing the consequences of domestic violence across half his face, that Midoriya thinks he’ll be ready soon to forgive his abomination of a father. I am firmly in the “Endeavor is a despicable human and hero” camp and no I’m not taking criticism. I audibly gasped when I heard this line and realized Deku was serious. Todoroki needs friends like the Gaang to remind him that he's allowed to hate the man who's actions caused the burn scar across his f*cking face.

I understand that the mangaka apparently didn’t anticipate the vitriolic backlash toward Endeavor during his debut and reveal of his parenting tactics but the tone-deafness of telling a fifteen year old with crippling emotional management issues and a horrible home life that his abusive dad in any way deserves and is entitled to forgiveness on the grounds of being related is disgusting.

Take it back further to a more famous Tumblr dad: John Winchester. Another despicable human who got retroactively forgiven by his sons after his death in a “he wasn’t so bad, he really did try” campaign. It’s one thing if the character believes it, it’s a whole different matter if the narrative is also pushing this message.

Katara is a perfect example: She lets go of her grudge for her own peace of mind and stops blaming Zuko for something he had no hand in, stops blaming him simply because he’s a firebender and he’s around to be her punching bag. She doesn’t forgive the man who killed her mother, because that man doesn’t deserve her forgiveness. Katara heals in spite of him, not because of him, and had she let him off the hook, she would have gotten an apology for getting caught, not for what he did (which is exactly what happened).

[poisoned-pearls]

see the problem is is that I’ve developed intricate lore for my test fankids, along with pretty thought out ideas of what their childhoods were like and what traits from their parents were passed down or taught and which ones were formed by mixing two or more of their parents and like, a ton more, but I have also only like. Drawn one of them consistently to have a finished design, and drawn two of the others

[starlit-mansion]

Ask game:🍹

🍹: Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?

Evie probably has the typical embarassing childhood stories told about her in her family (an annoying percentage of which turned out to be things she did because of her undiagnosed adhd… hmmm…) but not really any marquee stories there. She collected a solid 10-15 minutes of material out of bad dates and brief relationships over her early 20s, but none that really elevated to something her friends would pass along (at least in a non-shady way).

However basically the reason that Mal first got around to telling his closest friends about her back when it seemed like they were just having a sexy little fling that would probably fizzle out at any moment was that he wanted to tell them the funny stuff she said, so there are lots of little bits she did here and there in the group chat. He just thinks she's neat <3

Also Liz was NOT pleased when Evie started hanging around the house, for reasons both fair and unfair, but there was a bit early on where she was kind of grasping at straws to express her displeasure without being directly mean when liz pointedly asked what evie's intentions were with her father, and evie was like "i'm going to squander his dowry!" and liz called her a cad and she insisted she was more of a rake or possibly a wastrel, and proceeded to commit to the bit of being a regency romance villain on and off for the next 2 days, and unfortunately liz had to accept that evie had sufficient clown-to-clown communication skills to hang :( and both of them will recount it from time to time

[moonlightfilly]

everyone recommending The Banshees of Inisherin to us because “you’re Irish! it’s Irish! you should watch it! it’s absolutely brilliant!” and so we did and we didn’t like it lmao...

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Protective Flower

Pairing: Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: While making your rounds of the Isle making sure everyone still fears your name, you run into an old acquaintance. Someone oversees this and doesn't take lightly to others touching what is his.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Jealousy'

*Gif does not belong to me

Boots clicking with every step, you had not a care in the world as you walked through the Isle of the Lost. Why would you? You were the daughter of Madame Gothel, the Mother Gothel. Everyone on the Isle knew of your mother's story and with that came protection, a blanket of safety that her name alone offered you.

That didn't mean you let the glare on your features fall or had your back turned on anyone for too long. With brisk steps you passed through different sections of the Isle, never staying for too long. It was only when you saw the back of someone's head whom you never thought you'd see again.

"Jay?" You slowly question, your voice hesitant in case who you thought was in front of you was an illusion or just an insanely good look-alike whom you've never seen before that day. It was only when the boy's head of long brown hair turned and a whisper of your name left his lips that you knew it was him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gotten off this island and were at Auradon."

"Some circumstances have changed," He muttered with a coy grin, bounding his way over to you. The fast approach made you take a few small steps back, trying to put distance in between the two of you in case he decided to try something, though Jay bypassed this easily, one of his strides making up for three of yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I've missed you. We all have."

You froze immediately as you were engulfed, not expecting the embrace and hardly knowing what to call it. The feeling that arose from being trapped within Jay's arms was odd, almost comforting. That didn't matter though as you kept your arms glued to your side, not raising them to return the gesture.

"I'm sure it would've passed," You mumbled, voice gruff as you remembered what it had been like before Jay, Mal, Evie and Carlos left the Isle. How things have changed since then. Your words caused Jay to finally pull back, which you were both grateful for since the action was weak, though also longed for it to return, the simple contact something you have never experienced on the Isle evoking something within you. It must have been some trickery Auradon had taught them. "You never did say why you were here. And if you're here, I'm assuming so are the others."

"About that," Jay trailed off, hand sheepishly going to rub at the back of his neck. The action instantly had you quirking an eyebrow, never before seen such an action from the taller VK. Or former VK. "Carlos actually sent me to come and find you. We were wondering if we could use your help. Like old times-"

"What do we have here?" A taunting voice called out, cutting off the end of Jay's sentence, not that you needed to hear the rest of it to know what he was asking of you. You didn't even bat an eye to the new voice, coming well accustomed to it in the past year, more so than before Jay and his little redeemed squad had run off. "Runnin' into ya two times in a day has got ta be a good omen."

Jay's whole deemer immediately changed at not only the sight of him but also the sound. Turning an annoyed glare that held more heat than you knew Jay could still muster onto the newest arrival, Jay greeted him with a less than pleased grunt, "Hook."

Harry Hook, in all his glory, came out from the shadows he had previously lurking in so the deranged grin he was flashing could be seen by all.

"Don't sound so sad ta see me," Harry's laugh felt as if a harsh bite had sunken into you. It wasn't unwelcomed but such a stark contrast to what Jay had offered you moments ago. His eyes fell on you quickly, blue irises sucking you in as he walked closer, sealing his spot at your side as he wrapped a tight arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. "I was wondering when the two of yer would meet again. It was only a matter of time I suppose."

Jay's eyes locked in on the hand on your waist, Harry's fingers flexing at the sight as they curled in tighter. The sensation didn't hurt, not when you've felt it before. It was almost comforting, though in a different way to how Jay tried offering it. You weren't oblivious enough to not understand that Harry was staking his claim, however, making it known to Jay how things were running this time around.

"I didn't know the two of you had buddied up since we've been gone," Jay had to drag his eyes away from where the two of you were connected, never taking his eyes off of you as he refused to look into Harry's.

"Things have changed since you and the others were taken off the Isle," You shrugged your shoulders up as you spoke, giving it to Jay plainly. After he and the others left you were without a gang to call your own, leaving you to resort to other means of getting by. "Not all of us were whisked away to be Princesses and Princes."

"I can see that," Jay breathes out as if the words were vile on his tongue. You weren't ashamed of this. Just because you had grown closer to Harry and his crew in his and the other's absence didn't mean you were going to flip a switch now that they were back. "It was nice catching up with you. If you want to talk more, you know where to find us."

"I'll see you around Jay," You bid your farewell, surprised that Harry was able to remain as quiet as he did. Not sparing you another word, though his eyes flickered down to where Harry kept his hold on you, Jay turned away so he could make his way back to the hideout he must've come from.

"Now wasn't that a lovely chat," Harry chirped, rounding on you once Jay was out of sight. His other hand came down to your hip, resting there tightly as he slowly began to back you up. "I was just on my way to warn ya as well of Mal and her little crew's arrival. Somehow ya always beat me to it though."

"I must just be lucky at sniffing out people with pretty faces," You say, not a second later your back came in contact with the wall behind you, a small huff leaving your nose at the contact. With a cruel quirk of your lips, you bring a hand up to pass through some of his hair. "Maybe that's how I found you all those months ago."

"Cute," Harry barked out a bitter laugh, bringing his face closer to yours. Some of that bitterness seeped into his face as he looked down at you, his next words coming as a sting. "Uma doesn't want ya going near them. Who knows what they've brought from Auradon. And we all know how close ya were with them before they left."

"Good thing Uma doesn't control what I do then," You dipped your face to the side as Harry tried to trap your lips in a harsh kiss, his teeth ready to make an appearance. Instead, a kiss was left on your cheek, the pirate recoiling back once he realised. With a smirk of your own, you leaned in, trailing feather-light kisses across his neck and jaw. Your lips ghosted his skin, never staying in one spot for too long. "Though I'm sure an exception could be made if you asked nicely."

"Stay away from Jay and his friends," Harry spoke lowly, lips chasing after yours as you continued to evade him. With a raised brow, you stared at him as if you were waiting for more, leaning back so he couldn't reach you. With an eye roll from his dark eyes, an abundance of eyeliner smeared around them, he grinned out, "Please."

You waited a few moments, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face. Dragging him slowly, you brushed your lips quickly against his, muttering before finally giving him what he wanted, "I'll consider it."

[bambi-slxt]

matt the munch:

✨a concept✨

he rests his head against your thigh just so he can stare at your pussy. he loves it. he loves that your folds are kind of uneven, he loves the smattering of hair that you can't reach when you shave, it doesn't bother him. he loves it all.

he also loves to pet it. matt learned a long time ago exactly what you liked, and he'd be damned if he didn't want to take it slow and do it right every single time. so before any of the finger-fucking or tongue-slithering, he gets a feel for your skin. he reminds himself how soft it is, not that he needs to. he breathes in the way you smell. it wasn't always roses, and he didn't mind. this was a human body, your body. that made it perfect.

when his finger pumps lazily in and out of you, matt blows his warm breath over your clit, giving her a moments peace and an eternity of torture when the cold air from the room hit her again.

when the tip of his tongue runs gently over said clit, he smiles at the way it makes you shiver. he enjoys tightening the muscles of his tongue so they can hit those tiny pockets of nerves scattered all around your mound.

his hands are gentle when they spread your folds apart. when he flattens his tongue to run up your now-open slit, the salty taste of your arousal makes his chest constrict. he adores it.

matt could die between your thighs and be perfectly content. he feels his nose has no better place than the honeyed entrance of your labia, and his lips are best served right on the outside of your pussy, sucking your skin and the mix of his saliva and your juices into his throat.

he doesn't even mind when your legs clench up around him and your hips buck up into his face. no, he just holds you tighter, his heaving breath covering your oh-so-sensitive skin while you unintentionally ride his nose.

and when he finally lets you finish and his face is covered in your slick, he wipes it onto his hand, licking himself clean. the excess on your thighs is taken care of by his tongue as well, and you'd better hope you're not feeling too overstimulated, because if there's any left on you, he's gonna clean that up as well.

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @madisturn @mattspolitank @sturnsxplr-25 @xtravrgnoliveoil @raysmayhem-72 @sturnpooks @certifiedstarrr @melanch0lybby @freshloveforthefit @xoxo4chrisss @stunza @meerkatzthings @zivall @sturniolopepsi @that1fangirll @wh0schl0 @sharksworldd @mattscoquette @chrisslutx @sturnzsblog

[caesium-55]

—seven days [ epilogue ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warnings: mentions of death and suicide.

author's note: here's the epilogue and the end end of the seven days series. thank you everyone for showing love to this fic! i was honestly so overwhelmed by the sheer amount of all of you. also, i apologize for all the broken hearts i caused after posting chapters 4-7. stay safe yall! i'll rest my fingers for real now. my doctor wasn't very happy with me. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal @landorris @onecojg @leclercdream @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @spookystitchery @0710khj @strollnstroll @justab-eautifulmess @ssrcsm @seasonswinter @kravitzwhore @mycure156 i hope i didn't forget anyone

masterlist.

Julio [Name] was not an ambitious person. He didn't have dreams or concrete plans in life. But in 1985, his first dream was born. He wanted to be an F1 racer after reading about the Portuguese Grand Prix in a local newspaper where he saw a Brazilian racer even younger than him participate in it and winning it. Ayrton Senna was the racer’s name, twenty-five years old. At that time, Julio [Name] was the same age.

He immediately searched for the nearest karting track. He brought his then girlfriend, Sally Kingston, a dental student in USC, to the kart zone for their date. It was safe to say that driving was not exactly his forte. He crashed his rental kart and had to pay the damages. He was afraid that he made himself a loser in front of the Sally Kingston, the richest, prettiest, and nicest girl from L.A., and that she wouldn't wanna go out with a bumpkin like him anymore, but she had only laughed at him—her eyes turning into little crescents, showing too much teeth and gums—and from then and there, he knows he’s going to marry Sally Kingston one day. He might not have become a F1 driver, but he ended up marrying the girl of his dreams.

Him and Sally welcomed a son in 1991. They named him Damiano and he turned out to be a carbon copy of his beloved wife, not that Julio was complaining. When Damiano turned five, Julio brought him in the kart zone and let him try driving the kart. Damiano adored it so Julio signed him up for racing school. Three weekends later, Damiano got sick of driving around in circles so he stopped. Sally gave birth to a daughter in the same year—1996.

Five years later, he brings [Name], his mija, into the kart zone. He expected that you’ll be like Damiano, too, getting sick of the thing after three weekends or so. You didn't. You loved karting and going fast, almost dangerously so. You lasted five weekends so Julio signed you up for the kart zone’s junior racing school and you were their first female member. You won your first race when you were six, only seven months after you officially joined.

“She was born to race,” the team head told Julio. Julio then decided that he’d do whatever it takes so you could become a F1 driver.

Like his initial dream, his dream for you couldn't be brought to reality. When you were nine, you had to stop karting for financial reasons. Damiano was in high school, Rafael had leukemia, and Dominic had just been born. When Julio told you the news, you were sad but you understood why the decision was made so you never complained. You learned how to play billiards instead and your Abuelo was the one who taught you. It's cheaper than karting so Sally and Julio gave you their full support.

Julio [Name] was pleasantly surprised when you told him that you got accepted in USC’s engineering department years later. He half expected that you’d be like Damiano, who took an interest in dentistry, and was attending dental school. He was going to be a dentist like his mother. He was a perfect copy of Sally.

“If I can't be a racer, I’ll become a mechanical engineer,” you declared, head held high. Julio couldn't be anymore proud. You were living his dream.

If you asked Julio [Name] if he had lived a happy life despite not reaching his dreams, he would say yes without hesitation. He married the love of his life, Sally Kingston, now Sally [Last Name]. His first son, Damiano, had topped dental school and followed in his mother’s footsteps. His daughter, [Name], graduated with flying colors, a mechanical engineering degree under her belt and entered the motorsports industry, the first in the family to do so. (You even got him Fernando Alonso’s autograph! That's his second favorite driver!) Not only that, she volunteered at the LAFD during her college years and competed in a billiards tournament in Vegas, Australia, and the UK. You had the potential to be an international-level pool player but you didn't pursue the sport because you wanted to be an engineer. Rafael didn't let leukemia beat him and now, he’s finishing up his last year in CalTech, pursuing mechanical engineering like his older sister. A research team in Sweden had been eyeing him for a while now. Dominic, on the other hand, is steadily building a career for himself in volleyball. He was offered a sports scholarship in Harvard so, despite the fact that he’s going even farther than his siblings with no relatives near him like in L.A., Julio pushed him to pursue what he wanted. His children are his pride and joy. He spent every single day bragging about his children to his colleagues. The others had expressed their envy to him. Did Julio save a country in his last life to have such great children?

Furthermore, he’d been promoted to be the captain of Station 131 in Austin. Julio may not have driven an F1 car but he wouldn't even trade this family over anything in this world, not even the life of luxury and thrill of a Formula One Driver.

(What Julio didn't know was that Damiano had serious depression in dental school that he carried even after graduating, that you weren't accepted as an engineer in F1 and was stuck in a managerial position for the last five years, that Sweden found a better researcher than Rafael so he’s stuck suffering physically and mentally in a degree with his future unclear and cloudy, and Dominic was slowly losing passion in volleyball but it's the only thing putting him through college right now so he grits his teeth and put himself on court. No one told Julio. Julio got enough of his dreams broken already.)

Truthfully, despite working for Red Bull for half a decade, you never liked its taste. You were always the Monster Energy type of girl. It's the one drink that kept you functioning through all the all-nighters you pulled in engineering school. However, you kind of lost the palate for Monster Energy so now, here you are, standing outside a gas station mini mart in the middle of the dusty highway that leads to El Paso. You hold the chilled can of Red Bull against the side of your neck, satisfied with the feeling of something cool pressing against your skin. The temperature in Texas is going absolutely crazy this time of the year. In your other hand, two cigarette sticks balance in between your fingers. You crave the deadly nicotine. Desperately. But you're not stupid enough to smoke at a gas station because of your cravings.

Your phone vibrates and you pull it out of your pocket to see who messaged you. You snicker when you view the barrage of pictures from the Austin Grand Prix that Leo sent. A stolen shot of Logan, meme faces of Alex, the air show, a selfie with THE Fernando Alonso, and a Tiktok video with the other Williams mechanics.

You watched the race from the stands today and truthfully, you prefer watching the race in the garage than on the stands. It's unbelievably boring to be there. People pay thousands of dollars to sit under the excruciating heat of the sun and catch a glimpse of very fast cars for a nanosecond. You wouldn't even catch sight of if you blink. Nevertheless, you're happy that Leo is having the time of his life. You wish you share the same shoes.

leo: so so sad that u have to go

you: id be flattered if u actually mean it

leo: *rolling eyes emoji*

leo: i hope you choke on your beer

you: i hope you choke on the celebratory champagne

you: and i dont drink and drive

leo: good to know ur not stupid

leo: on a serious note make sure to drive to el paso safely

you: aight aight

leo: u know i have something to confess

you: if it's something stupid, don't bother

leo: ur stupid

you: fuck u

leo: shut up

leo: just wanna say i didn't break up with u bc u gave max too much attention

leo: i know that's what i said but i only said that bc i knew that u needed max to achieve ur dreams

leo: and idk i just thought max wouldn't give it to u not when im still dating u

you: that's stupid

you: max isn't like that

leo: hes in love with u

Your heart stutters. You ignore it.

you: liar

leo: i could tell u lil shit

leo: idk he looked like someone who’d hold a grudge

you: he does hold grudges

leo: and i cant allow myself to stand in between you and the one person who can give you your dream you know?

leo: i loved you enough to let you go to him

You choke on your saliva. You don't love Leo romantically anymore and you are sure that the feelings are mutual but his abrupt confession is enough to bring back the pain of loving him and letting him go all over again.

leo: u sure u won’t stay to see him?

leo: he’s the one who wants to see you the most

you: his ig messages makes me think otherwise

You're a fucking coward. A pussy.

leo: you didn't see the man [name]

leo: you don't know how empty he looks now

A shadow of guilt darkens your eyes. You quickly shove your phone into the pocket of your jacket. You open the Red Bull and take a large swig, almost draining the entire can. You exhale loudly after drinking, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You stare at the vast expanse of the dry earth before you, starting to understand the appeal of aimless road trips in the southern roads.

The world seems to be turning in slow motion now.

Ever since your father died, time feels like it was moving too fast. You arrived at the hospital half an hour after Julio was officially pronounced dead. At that time, you felt like the world was ending. Your knees gave out in the middle of the hospital hallway. Your mother’s wail echoed in your ears. Damiano and Dominic were trying to console her, both of whom were crying terribly. You stare at them, face empty despite the hurricane brewing within you. Rafael wrapped his arms around you and you held onto him as he cried uncontrollably.

Your mother possessed a weak heart. She’d grown weaker and weaker day by day after your father passed. Your father’s station held a ceremony for him to pay tribute to their fallen captain. You were the one who carried his helmet all throughout the ceremony because the entire station knew you were his most prized child. When you flipped the helmet, there was a photo taped on it. A photo of the entire family at your graduation ceremony in USC. You maintained that tired and empty stare during the entire procession. In the middle of the ceremony, your mother collapsed.

Your father’s death was the first domino to be tipped. Your mother’s collapse during the funeral was the second. From then on, everything turned to shit. Your mother had always been frail and prone to sickness so it didn’t surprise you when she had grown so weak in a matter of days. She couldn't sleep. She didn't want to eat. She lost her will to do anything else. You took her to the hospital after a week because you were afraid she was beginning to become malnourished. Damiano suggested moving your mother to El Paso, to your Abuelo and Abuela’s farm, so your mother could recuperate there, and you agreed. The entire family moved to El Paso quickly, leaving the house in Vista Del Pueblo empty and celebrated the New Year there.

You opened your phone for the first time since you landed in ATX on the 30th and a barrage of messages had been sent to you. From Daniel, Logan, Leo, Kendall, Julia. You freeze when you see Max’s name. Your finger hovers above it, hesitating. Your mind trailed back to the five years you spent in Red Bull, to all the memories with Max in it, to what happened inside his penthouse in Monaco, the jet, the night you spent in his sheets, the shoes and—

Fuck.

“Kelly,” you mumbled to yourself, typing her username in the search box. You began typing up a message. You're not mentally equipped to write a long message of apology. Your mental dictionary was not ready to use so you decided to half ass the entire message and hope for the best.

you: sorry about the breakup

you: i didn't know about the shoes

you: i didn't take it

you: im so sorry

you: i hope you're not too hurt

In truth, you loved Kelly for Max. You never had problems with her. At first, you were concerned about the great age gap between her and Max as she was even older than Danny but then you figured that you did not have a say because Leo was also younger than you, born in the same year as Max. Then, you saw how she was so caring to Max, so patient in dealing with his misplaced anger, so supportive. You saw how Max transformed into a better version of himself, something you are not even capable of doing, because of Penelope and Kelly. How he became the world's most massive girl dad without trying. You ignored every bitter feeling that sprouted on your chest because you saw Max was happy and his happiness always came first. And now, you’re here, apologizing to Kelly for taking Max away from her.

kelly: i think i’m the one who’s been taking him from you

kelly: take care of him for me

you: thank you for loving him

You can't imagine how hurt Kelly was. Imagine dating and preparing a man so he could be perfect for another girl.

you: but i can’t do what you're asking

you: not anymore

“Not anymore,” you whisper to yourself, as if uttering it to the wind would cement it as the truth.

Not anymore, Max. I’m sorry.

Rafael and Dominic told you that they want to drop out of college to help you out with Mama a few days after New Year’s. You quickly told them no, to finish college and that you could handle taking care of two senior citizens and your sickly mother and help out on the farm since you’re essentially jobless at the moment.

The third domino is Damiano. You were always aware he’d been clinically depressed, taking medications to help him get better. Whatever he went through in dental school, he carried it with him until he was working. You believed he was getting better. He was seeing a therapist for years now and you were checking up on him every day. Then, like Mama, he just…. became worse. Rafael found him submerged in the bathtub in his apartment, red painting his wrists. Had Rafael not been there at the right time, Damiano would have followed Papa Julio.

The fourth domino is Dominic. He ruined his hand in March. The doctor told him it was dangerous for him to continue playing volleyball competitively. It was either he learned how to set with only his non-dominant hand because his dominant hand is partially crippled or he stopped playing all together. He’d choose the second option with no hesitation as he had lost his passion for the sport but if he’s not playing for Harvard anymore, no one would be able to pay his fees until graduation. Not when Julio died, not when Sally was too sick to continue working, not when Damiano was currently unstable, not when you’re the only one who had been supporting the entire family through your entire savings account. Red Bull must have paid you a lot of money because you’ve been keeping the entire family afloat for months now.

The fifth domino is Rafael, who got his entire thesis overhauled so now, his graduation was out of the picture. It sucked. He’d always been expected to follow his older siblings’ footsteps, both of whom are academically excelling individuals and Rafael had been studying and studying and studying. So why was this happening to him? Why was this happening to his family?

The sixth domino was yet to be tipped over.

You refuse to fall.

You blink, suddenly back in reality when you hear a loud caw of a bird flying above your head. You shake your head, tossing the Red Bull in a nearby trash can and returning inside the mini mart. The amount of caffeine in a Red Bull isn’t enough. You need more. You need fucking coffee.

Gas station coffee sucks but you’re never the type who complains. El Paso is still eight hours away and you’re sure you're going to be driving your motorcycle the entire night just to reach the farm the next morning.

You walked towards the Yamaha XSR 155 parked in front of the mini-mart, a styro cup of coffee that’s as black as your soul and as bitter as your life in your hand. Hypnotizing swirls of steam rise from the cup. In each step you take, the key that is attached to your hip jingles.

It's a little past four in the afternoon but the darkness of the sky makes you think it's around six PM. You pocket your cigarettes and stand beside your motorcycle, hand on your hip while the other brings the cup of coffee to your mouth. A car suddenly arrives, coming to a screeching halt in front of you. You flinch in surprise, almost spilling your coffee in your hands. You hiss loudly, brows furrowing, a curse sitting on the tip of your tongue. You hear the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut and when you look up—

“Max.”

He’s still in his Red Bull overalls, drenched in sweat as if he ran to the gas station instead of driving. His hair is windswept, sticking out in multiple directions almost attractively so. He looks simultaneously distraught and relieved when your eyes met. The longing in his eyes. God. You unconsciously take a step back and turn around—a flight response—when he charges in your direction.

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, stopping you from your tracks and causing your coffee to spill and fall down pathetically on the floor. You avoided the puddle, hands reaching behind you to guide Max away from the steaming liquid. But it’s too late. You saw the hot coffee touch his skin.

“Max!” you exclaim, eyes going wide. Your hand wraps around his forearm, pulling it but his grip on you tightens so you resort to tapping his arm in hopes that he’ll let go and you can inspect his injured hand and make a quick run for the mini mart for first-aid supplies.

“Max, let go,” you say, panicking. “Your hand—”

“Don’t leave,” his voice cracks.

“I won't go, okay? Let go and I’ll—”

“No,” the hug tightens and you suck in a breath. “You’ll leave again. I know you’ll leave again.”

“I’ll fix your hand. You can’t burn your hand—”

“I can endure it. Let me have this please,” he pleads. You pull his hand but Max remains stubborn. Resigned, you sigh. It turns out that you’re still the same, giving whatever Max wanted.

“I’m sorry for getting angry,” he begins. “I’m sorry for stopping you from going to Renault. I’m sorry for promising that I’d talk to Christian. I’m sorry that I didn't. I’m sorry that you had to break up with Leo because of me. I’m sorry that I realized that I fell in love with you while dating Kelly. I’m sorry for the shoes. I’m sorry for getting drunk. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I’m sorry for not considering you. I’m sorry for loving you. I’m so, so sorry, [Name]. For everything.”

His words come rapidly and frankly, you don't want to hear Max like this. Max rarely apologizes. You're not used to hearing him apologize.

“Max—”

“I called, [Name].”

You freeze.

“I called so many times. Not once have you answered. Not once—” a loud sob erupts from his mouth, interrupting him. “You always come when I call.”

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

“I sent you a message,” he continues. “To wait for me. I know I’m selfish but can I have five minutes please? Just….five?”

A pause.

“Okay,” you whisper. Max’s body trembles against yours and you stand still for a few minutes,

“Hey,” you say gently, suddenly reminded that you're standing in an open space and Max is still in his Red Bull overalls and he doesn't even have his usual cap on and this compromising situation you're both in was going to be bad for Max’s online reputation once the wrong pair of eyes manage to catch sight of you. You can already imagine what the headlines would be.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND HIS FORMER MANAGER CAUGHT HUGGING IN A GASOLINE STATION AFTER AUSTIN GP.

MAX VERSTAPPEN AND FORMER RED BULL MANAGER IN A RELATIONSHIP?

FORMER RED BULL MANAGER POTENTIAL REASON FOR BREAKUP BETWEEN KELLY PIQUET AND MAX VERSTAPPEN?

MAX VERSTAPPEN CHEATED ON KELLY PIQUET WITH FORMER MANAGER?

MAX VERSTAPPEN, FULL-TIME WORLD TIME CHAMPION, PART-TIME CHEATING ASSHOLE.

God. You can already imagine the headache splitting the entire PR team’s skulls. The world already hates Max because of how good he was at his sport. You can’t allow people to shit on him more because of you.

“Max,” you try again, tapping his forearm so he can loosen his hold on you and you can turn around. “Max, baby, cooperate with me for a bit, yeah?”

You tug on his wrist and you can't help but sigh in relief when his arms loosen a little. He’s beginning to choke you a little bit. With his arms still around you, you pivot on your heels so you’re face-to-face with his broad chest.

When you look up to Max’s face, your heart shatters into a million pieces. His tears continue to flow and violent sobs wrack his entire body, robbing him of the ability to speak and barely allowing a breath to be drawn. He’s going to hyperventilate. Fucking dammit.

“Max,” how many times have you said his name in the last few minutes? “Hey, breathe with me.”

Your hand cradles his jaw and your eyes focused on his blue ones and fuck, they’re as insanely beautiful as you remembered.

“Breathe.”

You perform exaggerated inhales and exhales so Max can match your breaths, his hands settling on your shoulders. His palms feel heavy against your shoulders and his fingers dig deep into your skin.

“I’m here, Champ. I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m here now.”

You wait until he calms down a little and when he does, your right hand searches for his, intertwining your fingers together to assure him that you’re not going anywhere just yet. Your other hand comes up to hold the area below his neck and you slowly guide him back to his car. It’s a little difficult, Max obviously has no intention to let you go, but you know how to make things work.

Max sits on the driver's seat with you standing outside of the car. He's still clinging onto your hand and you use the other hand to hold the roof of the car for support. Max stopped crying now, staring blankly at you with a sad pout on his face. His tears are now dry, staining his cheeks.

“You okay now, Champ?” you ask, never failing to sound gentle. That's what Max needs now. Gentleness. God forbid you pull a Jos Verstappen.

Max shakes his hand, making you sigh deeply. Your eyes trail to the hands, the pale skin now an angry red.

“Max,” you call his attention. He looks up at you and you have to avoid his gaze because if you look at his face, your heart hurts. “I’ll get something from the mini-mart for your burn, aight?”

He shakes his head and his grip on your hand impossibly tightens. If he keeps this up, he’s going to break your bones.

“No.”

If you were the same person that you were in 2023, you would have let Max do what he wanted. What Max wanted, what Max shall get—that’s the philosophy you lived by. But things are different now. Leo told you that you’re allowing Max to take too much from you and Max needs to learn to actually listen to you.

You’ve been taught to treat even the most minor of burns as if it’s a major burn. That's what you are planning to do right now.

“Max,” you say, a little firmer now. “Gonna grab somethin’ in the mart real quick, you stay here, aight?”

“No—”

“Not askin’, Champ,” you interrupt him. “I'm not leavin’ yet, not goin’ anywhere until I make sure you’re okay. So stay here and wait.”

You swiftly remove the key attached to your belt and force it into his palm, “Here are my keys. I’m not goin’ to drive off and leave you here, aight? Do you trust me?”

You have a feeling that this anxiety of his might have stemmed from that one incident in his childhood where Jos left him at a gas station. Fucking son of a bitch that man was.

Hesitantly, Max says, “I do.”

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, dampening your palm.

You can see he does not like what you're doing now but he does not have any choice so he sits in the car, looking as pitiful as ever. You jog up to the mini-mart, immediately going to the beverage section to grab a bottle of water and passing by the hygiene shelf to snatch a handkerchief. You go to the counter and the middle aged guy manning the register obviously does not look impressed that you’re in his shop for the third time in the same hour, which is stupid because he should be glad that he has a customer. You put everything on the counter, pulling out some bills from your back pocket.

“You happen to have neosporin?” you ask.

“Do we look like a drug store?” he retorts. You roll your eyes, toss the bills to the cashier, and grab your items without even waiting for the guy to wrap them all up in a paper bag. You jog back to Max’s car.

“Excuse me,” you lean inside the car, opening the compartment to search for a burn cream you left inside there last year. Your eyes land on his keys, stiffening when you notice that Max kept every single gift you gave him. The bead keychain from 2020, the bottle opener keychain from 2021, the clay figure keychain from 2022, and the bracelet from 2023 sway slightly, staring back at you. You shake your head and resume doing your original mission. You find the burn cream and you immediately search for the expiration date. January 2025; it’s still good to use.

You straighten, take hold of Max’s wrist gently, and roll up his long sleeves up to his elbows. You open the water bottle and tug Max’s hand towards you so he won't get water on his car as you pour water on his burn. Once the bottle is nearly empty, you apply the cream on the reddened area of his skin. Then, you use the handkerchief, which you dampen using the leftover water, to dress it.

Max is silent the entire ordeal, watching you work your way meticulously and carefully around his hand. The same meticulousness one can expect from a former firefighter paramedic volunteer.

You step back to inspect your work, but Max’s hand stretches out towards you, grabbing the hem of your jacket.

“Sorry,” he says and yet you see his knuckles slowly turning white, which makes you unsure if he truly is apologetic or not. “Just…yeah, sorry. Can you stay for a while please?”

“Have to leave soon,” you say. “El Paso’s still hours away. I have to be there by morning.”

He nods, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, “Okay.”

“Thirty minutes, Max,” you decide. “Thirty minutes.”

You pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time and see the multiple notification bars. You type the password and direct to the message app to see the flurry of messages Max sent earlier. You have not noticed them.

max: i heard you came

max: where are you

max: please

max: can you give me ten minutes

max: just

max: please

max: wait for me

max: i’m not angry anymore

max: im begging you

max: or five minutes [name] im okay with just five

max: or even less

max: i just need to see you

“Who told you I was here?” you question, brows knitting together. There are currently two names in your head. They both start with the letter L and they both work at Williams.

“Leo called me and told me you were here.”

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes. Logan will never dare betray you like this. You made Leo promise not to tell Max where you were in El Paso and the bitch told him where you were the moment you stepped out of El Paso. He didn't break his promise technically, but it's still a very bitch move for him to pull. You're going to have a lengthy conversation with him later.

“So you’ve been in El Paso?” he asks.

You nod.

“My grandparents’ place.”

He nods.

“Sorry about Julio, by the way.”

You sigh. God, you want to cry.

It's truly unfair how God decided to take away Julio [Last Name]. Death should happen to assholes and shitty people. To people who abuse their children every day. To people who waste years of their lifespan on nicotine and alcohol. To people who kill people. Death shouldn't happen to heroes, who risk every single day of their lives to save other people. Death shouldn't happen to Julio [Last Name], a firefighter who died saving a kid in a burning building. At least, not this early. Not until you fulfilled his dream for him.

(His last words: I don't regret doing what I did. I have kids, too. I want someone to save them the same way I did that kid if they ever get stuck in a situation like this.)

“Did Leo tell you that, too?” you hope that he didn't notice that your voice slightly wobbled.

“No,” Max shakes his head. “We—Logan and I came to Vista Del Pueblo in December. Your neighbor told us that…”

He doesn't need to finish his sentence for you to know what he’s trying to say.

You nod, “So that's why there was an article that day…”

You remember Damiano showing you the news article in his phone—AN UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP: MAX VERSTAPPEN OF RED BULL RACING AND LOGAN SARGEANT OF WILLIAMS RACING SPOTTED DRIVING AROUND AUSTIN. You shrugged it off at that time.

“How are you?”

You turn to Max, raising a brow at his question.

“How am I?” you echo, sounding a little bewildered.

You see, Max has never asked this question. You're used to “Are you okay?” but not this. Not this question. You can easily lie to an are-you-okay. You can say yes even if you’re not, and you won't give yourself away because you only uttered one word. But with how-are-you, it’s different. It's not a question that is not answerable by yes or no. You actually have to explain how you feel. That's why Papa Julio only asked, “How are you, mija?” rather than “Are you okay, mija?” Papa Julio wants to know how your day went even if you're okay or not.

Yeah. You're definitely going to cry at this rate.

“How have you been after Julio?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wanted to be there for you at that time,” Max confesses. “When I learned that Julio was gone, I wanted to go to you. But Leo stopped me. He said I was not what you needed at that time and I agree. I was too angry at you for leaving me. I’m glad he didn't tell me where you are, despite how painful it was. I was selfish and immature that I cared about my grief and forgot to consider yours. I reflected on my actions a lot. I am not sure how different I am now from that version of me but I think I changed a bit. So yes, [Name], I want to know, because I want to know how you felt and help you in any way I can.”

You stand there, stunned at what Max has said. And perhaps it was his sincerity or the way his determined blue eyes stare into your soul that caused the sixth domino to tip. You break into tears, a raw cry escaping your mouth. You are so fucking tired of carrying everything on your shoulders.

Max is quick to engulf you in a hug and you don't hesitate to pull him into you, pressing your face against his shoulders as you let everything out. You claw his back as if you're trying to mold himself into you. Your nose turns red, snot drips out of your nose. You sob too loud and too heavily that you can hardly draw a breath. You don't cry pretty and this is the first time you allowed yourself to cry with another person bearing witness to your fragility.

When you calmed down, you found yourself sitting beside Max, shoulder to shoulder, in the backseat of his car, playing with the drawstrings of your jacket.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Sorry, I was just so tired,” you tip your head upwards. You can feel Max’s eyes on you. “Things have been hard since Papa died.”

“Do you want to talk? I’ll listen.”

You chuckle humorlessly.

Jesus, what did Leo feed this guy?

It feels like the roles are reversed now.

“Everybody's been takin’ it pretty hard so I'm trynna to be strong for them, you know? But I’m not that strong,” you begin. “I’m just as lost as everyone else and it's hard pretendin’ like I’m not. I’m not really sure what will happen with my life now so I wander around and do car repairs for a few folks in El Paso.”

“What happened to your dream? The job?”

“Well, it's gone,” you say, making Max’s eyes widen. “Not my time yet, I suppose. Or rather, I’m never supposed to have time. I guess I’m just not meant to be an engineer.”

“No,” Max turns to you, clasping your hands in desperation. “No, no, no. You always wanted to become an engineer. You can't just—I’ll think of something. I’ll ask Christian. I’ll ask the other teams. Renault isn't in Formula One right now but I can—”

“Max,” you smile sadly. “Let it go.”

“But—”

“Do you know what my Papa’s dream was?” you interrupt. “It’s to be a Formula One racer.”

You smile, remembering all the times you’ve seen your father watch the races on the television since you were younger. He’d wake up even in the ass crack of dawn just to watch them live. He’d be so tired after a 24-hour shift at the fire station but he’d refuse to even catch a wink of sleep until the Grand Prix broadcast is done. He always received a beating from your Mama because of it.

“He saw Senna in the newspaper and decided that he wanted to be like him, too. Sadly, Papa never vibed with a steering wheel so there was no future in that industry. He's always so disappointed in himself, sayin’ he can do the most unhinge shit at work but can't even drive a car. When Damiano and I turned five, he brought us karting. I could tell he was disappointed that Damiano didn't share his love for racing and I hated seein’ him sad so I learned to love karting. He signed me up and I did my best to win. I think I was good. Good enough to make him proud of me. Papa looked so happy when I won my first trophy. He cleaned it every week.”

You smile fondly at the memory.

“Then, shit happened and I have to stop. Papa looked even more disappointed than me that I had to stop. It hurts. Disappointment from your parents, I mean, even if I know that it's somethin’ beyond my control. I figured that if I can't be a racer, I’ll work in a pit stop. That's close enough. When I told him that I got accepted into USC and how I wanted to be an engineer, it was the proudest I have ever seen him since I won my trophy. I was livin’ his dream. I applied for Red Bull and Renault because those are Papa’s favorite teams and the rest is history.”

You pause.

“He’s never got to see me become an engineer,” you choke out, wiping the stray tear that fell from your eye with the back of your hand. “It was his dream. He always had his dreams broken and I was gonna reach his dreams for him but he’s gone before I can do so. Now, I’m so lost because I realized that I was shapin’ myself to become an extension of Papa and now that he's gone, I am an extension of no one. I was reaching for dreams that I don't own. I’m so tired and I’m so lost, Max.”

Max stares at you sadly.

“I should have talked to Christian sooner. Fuck, I hate myself for not talking to Christian. Fuck, why was I so selfish?” he presses the ball of his palms against his eyes in frustration. You chuckle, shaking your head.

“That’s okay,” you say. “I’ll find my way.”

You look at the scenery outside of the window. Night has fallen. You should have left for El Paso by now.

“I need to go,” you say, heart heavy.

“So soon?”

Max is panicking again.

“Jesus, Champ, calm down,” you pat his shoulders.

“Will I see you again?” Desperation laces his question.

“Dunno really,” you shrug.

“Can you wait for me?”

Your brows furrow.

“I’ll retire by 2028. No, that's still long. 2027. Ah no—2026? Can you wait for me? I—” Max’s hand trembles. “I love you. I love you, [Name]. I—I love you even before Kelly. I can’t. I can't lose you.”

The world stops.

“I am stupid, I am selfish, and I think I’m asking too much. If you can just wait for me, I’ll—I can even retire next year if you think it's too long—”

“Hold up right there, Champ,” you stop him. “You're not retirin’ early.”

“If you want me to, I will.”

You sigh in exasperation.

“Max,” your voice is low. “That’s your career. I’m not gonna—Jesus, Max don’t retire, okay? Not even for me. Retire only when you want to.”

This man is just…

You don't know if you want to choke him or kiss him.

“I want you to have me, [Name]. I… I want to be with you, to love you, and if retiring is the only way I can do that then I will,” he says. “I love you.”

You purse your lips.

“I love you, too, Max,” you confess and now, your chest feels lighter now that you've said it out loud. “But not now, I can't love you like this. I’m too… I can't pursue a relationship with you right now. Not when…”

“It's not our time,” Max nods. “I understand.”

He really did change.

“I want to find my way through life first," you tell him.

Max smiles and he pulls you again in a hug. He has tears in his eyes again and he sniffles, chuckling at himself for crying again. He pulls away from the hug slowly and hands you your keys.

“See you around?"

“See you around.”

You exit the car and you notice that your heart feels lighter now compared to the time you left Monaco even though you are doing the same exact thing—leaving Max to go home.

At the end of 2023, you grace the paddock with your presence—your signature YSL heels is back on the tracks. You wear pants now, instead of the corporate pencil skirts, matched with a Prema Racing polo shirt. The label at the back indicates: AERODYNAMIC ENGINEER. By the end of 2024, you are promoted to the strategy team. By 2025, you become a race engineer of an up-and-coming racing superstar and you kept the job position until now.

The world didn't end just because your Dad died. It took you a while to realize that your Papa didn't own your dreams. It was always yours to begin with. He just played a part in inspiring them.

Max Verstappen became the 2024, 2025, 2026, 2027, and 2028 WDC, marking history as an eight-time consecutive champion. He retired after the 2028 season and disappeared from the face of the Earth. He had stopped going home to his penthouse in Monaco, had put his private jet on sale, and had cut ties to his father, Jos, who was very disappointed that his son had retired too early in the sport. Max retired willingly—he had achieved more awards than most of his seniors and it's time to give room to the younger ones. Rumors say that he had established a racing program somewhere in Belgium. Charles Leclerc, Max's friend, refuses to update the media regarding Max's whereabouts and only says: "He's happy. Don't worry."

Years later, a thirteen-almost-fourteen year-old girl named Emiliana Julia Verstappen, racing under the American flag, become the youngest driver in history to join the ranks of the F1 academy and later, she becomes the youngest driver to ever drive a Formula One car, racing for Scuderia Ferrari as second driver, at only seventeen and a hundred and fifty days old, overthrowing Max Emilian Verstappen, retired eight-time F1 WDC, whom the world has not seen since his retirement, from the list.

[youaresimplylovely]

Fashion n' Cars (Part Five)

Pairings: F1 Grid x Verstappen!Supermodel!Reader Summary: Max Verstappen has a sister who is a famous supermodel but what happens when other F1 drivers start taking interest in her? Warnings: we still have overprotective maxie <3 this is an smau but a short short drabble for lewis!! Tried my best to replicate the espn f1 format lol <3 Fc: Emily Ratajkwoski Proofread!! A/N: part five is hereee!! Woohoo! We're almost 600 followers and ily all so so so much!!

part one part two part three part four

ynverstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, estebanocon, and 68,502,732 others

ynverstappen y/n and estie bestie in the uk 💨

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maxverstappen1 WHAT THE FUCK HE WAS NOT ON MY LIST.

estebanocon YOU HAVE A LIST? AM I DEAD? ynverstappen LOL NO HAHAHAHA

user5 WE LOVE YN AND ESTIE BESTIEEE

charles_leclerc ITS FUCKING ESTEBAN. WHY DID YOU GO TO MY HOUSE AT 3AM. @maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 better safe than never.

charles_leclerc also looking beautiful y/n 😍

maxverstappen1 it's like you want me to kill you again at 3am.

The busy and calm streets of London, relieved you. You were with Lewis since he was still touring your around. Although, you ask yourself. Do you really need it? or do you just want to spend time with him? You've traveled for so many times but this is the only time you've asked someone to tour you.

"London is a nice place." You mutter as you chuckle, watching the beautiful view of the sky from the streets that you and Lewis were on.

"It is." Lewis smiles, turning his head around to face you. Suddenly, a stranger who was in a hurry accidentally pushed Lewis causing him to lean in closer to you. What you didn't expect was you two to kiss.

Your lips were stiff, you didn't expect the kiss. So did Lewis. His lips pressed against yours, eyes wide open, staring at each other. A few moments passed, you pulled away from the kiss. You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck as you smile at him nervously.

He stares into your eyes, hands slowly cupped your cheek. He leaned in closer to kiss you. Your eyes widened, you didn't know what to do. Lewis continued to kiss you for a few moments eventually pulling away.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He mumbles, pulling you in closer to him to kiss you again.

f1

liked by redbullracing, scuderiaferrari, and 2,983,024 others

f1 what a close one between the red bull and the mercedes!

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espnf1

liked by ynverstappen, lewishamilton, and 1,023,891 others

espnf1 👀

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ynverstapen wowowowowow

maxverstappen1 shut up. (i still love you though.) lewishamilton love you too brother in law! maxverstappen1 God no.

user12 WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANOTHER DRIVER MAX EMILLIAN VERSTAPPEN

user4 maxie knows something we don't

user10 lewis and yn endgame??????

user18 NAH I THINK ITS GONNA BE ANOTHER DRIVER

maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 pov: me seeing the comments on the espnf1 post. (captioned by yn)

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ynverstappen LOLOLOL <3

ynverstappen

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ynverstappen he kissed me.

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TAGLIST

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[shierajones]

Rise of Red

So I’m watching this movie and doing Simone Biles levels of mental gymnastics to make this all connect to the original story and have the plot holes fill in. Here are my attempts at cohension from the beginning:

SPOILERS!!!!

It’s been 30 years since Auradon was founded.

The math isn’t mathing but sure, let’s say after D3, everyone went on adventures, Ben and Mal got married and they all took time to mature and grow in their roles. As the years have passed, they recognize what a terrible job Beast did as a leader and they want to increase trade and foreign relations with other countries.

Uma says that Ben and Mal put her in charge of everything while they (along with Evie and Jay) are making alliances with other countries.

Of course! Because Beast sucks as a leader so they don’t trust him to take back over even if only temporarily. Gil and Harry (and most of the pirates we’ve seen) are missing from Uma’s crew, because she asked them to help Ben and Mal on their journey. Hook is serving as Captain in Uma’s absence and Jay and Gil have grown very close since traveling Auradon together through the years so it makes sense.

Chad is Cinderella and Charming’s son, but Chloe will one day be queen of Cinderellasburg.

Cinderella and Charming had fertility issues at first and Chad is adopted. Chloe is their miracle baby and, though younger, is the true-born heir to the throne. They love and support Chad in all things and have pampered him his whole life. Given the struggles they had to conceive, they don’t regret showering Chad with love but they recognize he’s a bit spoiled and not fit to be king one day.

The future shows Red and the Queen of Hearts ruling on the throne together. I guess we’re assuming since she’s black and red it means she’s evil.

We never actually see that this future is prevented. The ultimate endgame may still be the same, that Red rules with her mother. I’m going to say, this future was not prevented, just that the Queen of Hearts turn to evil was delayed.

In the past, many of the heroes and villains that we know are in high school together.

Many but not all. This is just a blip in their histories and the stories to come in the future are still canon. We don’t actually see any of the villain/hero pairs (Maleficent & Aurora) (Hook & Peter Pan) (Hades & Hercules) so outside of two couples being established (Jasmine and Aladdin in love and Ella and Charming flirtation/mutual pining) there’s nothing that makes some of the stories automatically false. I’d say some of the events in high school just blacken their hearts more and turn them into real villains.

Bridget and Ella’s personalities seem to be switched (with a more evil skew on Bridget’s end as an adult). This one is long.

Ella was Bridget’s only friend and because she was grounded, she wasn’t supposed to be able to make it to the Castlecoming. She cancels on Bridget and leaves her alone. However, Fairy Godmother is also friends with Ella and has been practicing her magic more and is now in possession of a powerful spellbook (more on that later). She wants a way to help her and is finally successful casting an enchantment that gets Cinderella to the dance for a short time. When her curfew hits, the spell will be reversed and send her home. When she gets to the dance, instead of finding Bridget, she gets caught up in Charming and after the song playing changes to So This is Love, they share their first dance. The two are so engrossed in each other and discovering their feelings are mutual that she doesn’t notice anyone or anything else. However, Bridget sees her and is excited at first until she realizes Ella isn’t seeking her out. She’s stuck on Charming. The song playing when Ella walked in is Shuffle of Love and Bridget is trying to focus but makes a mistake. She turns again to Ella to see if she’ll jump in and help but she’s still too distracted by Charming. Left heartbroken she moves and just watches them on the dance floor while staying isolated on the sidelines. She tries to ignore her feelings because she should be happy for Ella but she can’t stop crying a little. She should’ve been there for her. Isn’t that what friends are for? Then, Uliana comes to talk to her and seemingly comfort her. For a second, she thinks she’s coming around to be her friend. She doesn’t think twice when she offers her a cupcake. Suddenly she’s transformed to a monster and everyone around her starts laughing. Ella and Charming’s attention is finally broken from each other and they turn to see what’s going on. Upon seeing this monster, they laugh too thinking it’s just a prank—with no idea who the monster is. But Bridget’s last shred of hope is broken seeing her only friend laugh at her pain after ignoring her the whole night. When Ella finally realizes who it is, she tries to run after her and loses her shoe. She almost catches her to comfort her but then is whisked away by Fay’s spell and finds herself back at, sitting in the barn. Ella, still grounded is left feeling a mixture of joy, love, pain and regret from the events of the night. She can’t contact Bridget or see her until school starts again on Monday. By Monday it’s too late. Bridget, having spent the weekend with no one to talk to or comfort her decides Love Ain’t It and takes on a new mantra for her life. She looks into the Looking Glass and sees her evil future with her daughter. Fine, if that’s what she becomes, why try? At school, Ella tries to apologize and beg for forgiveness but it’s too late. She tries to tell her how her kindness made her strong, how she’s always respected that about her and loves her like a sister but it’s not enough. She tries to show her with her actions. She takes on the persona Bridget always had because it was good, it was kind, it was true strength. She doesn’t want to suffer for one mistake and doesn’t want Bridget to allow that night to define her, but again, it’s too late. Bridget already knows how this story ends and it’s not with love and friendship. She decides to let the fear and power be her friend and becomes the worst bully they’ve ever seen.

Uliana and her crew were troublemakers so would never have been able to open the spellbook and prank Bridget.

Before Red and Chloe showed up, Uliana and her crew were going to lure someone else in to get the book. Fay! They manipulated her with fear and hope—the promise that she could use the Sorcerer’s book when they were done to perfect her magic. So she did it, just like her daughter tried to take the wand in D1.

Merlin just lets Red and Chloe into school, partners them with their mothers “coincidentally” and sees the open window after the break in but doesn’t try to find out who else was able to escape.

He’s aware that Red and Chloe are time travelers and knows there’s a reason to change the timeline as they have. He knows what’s to come with Beast banning magic and shipping off the villains. He wants to change that story too and these girls are the catalysts. This change in history is going to open the doors for magic to be welcomed back to Auradon in the future as they return and have to fix what they’ve changed.

[antielevator]

In the long seconds of his death, Sebastian doesn't compute anything. He doesn't feel the black tendrils that weave through his blood, nor the sharp sensation of needles as thousands of microscopic threads pull the layers of his wound shut. His body is gone, so something else has to put it back together again: something that pulses in him, something that sends flares of information to nerve endings that no longer respond. Over and over this thing makes up for what he's lost-- litres of blood are replaced with black liquid, electric synapses are turned to tiny explosions of spores, and then Sebastian's heart beats, and beats, and beats again.

Wake the fuck up for me, Ethan begs, and that single command makes spores explode at the stem of Sebastian's brain and jolt all his systems back into motion.

His eyes open first, and his lashes flutter delicately. Then his lungs catch up, and he ends up coughing hard. There is nothing delicate there, nothing soft or gentle as he hacks up invisible intruders. The change may have woken him, but the instincts in his subconscious mind panic; he coughs, and coughs, and coughs until his eyes are wet, and should Ethan help him in any way he'll turn to his side and wheeze miserably.

All over his body there's that pinpricking sensation of blood (corruption) flowing back where it shouldn't. Sebastian shuts his eyes tight against the discomfort, and then outright sobs when he suddenly becomes aware of the tightness of his chest. His heart is beating too fast, too hard, and he clenches his fist and slams it into the floor with a wordless wheeze.

It hurts... The black in his veins is going to burn him from the inside out, it feels like, and with this level of contamination every weapon in his immune system's arsenal is fired one after the other. He's feverish and sweating, there's blood coming from his nose, and he's just barely keeping himself from gagging. In a panicked craze, Sebastian curls into himself and starts clawing at his own shirt. It hurts-- it hurts-- get it out of me, get it out of me, get it out--!

He fails to realise that none of this is spoken out loud. He barely hears his own desperate, mindless snarling as he rips the buttons to his shirt apart and digs his blunt nails into flesh (he doesn't notice the knife scar by his heart has healed completely and left his flesh smooth).

At this rate, the overstimulation might drive him mad.

ethan doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t know what to do, whether or not what he’s hoping for will even work — but he has to try. it’s his own mistakes, his own bout of insanity, that brought this on, and if there’s even a chance to fix it, he’s going to take it.

it isn’t necessarily a conscious act, but instead more of a feeling. a thought that ethan hopes he’s somehow willing into existence. fix him, fix him, fix him : words thought over and over again, a mantra, silently commanding the decay that lingers beneath the skin to make itself useful. to put sebastian back together, to keep him alive. to worm its way inside his ribcage and make itself at home inside him.

as his hands remain on sebastian, face streaked with his own tears, ethan knows there is risk involved in this. there’s a small part of him that knows that it may go wrong as it did with so many of those taken by the bakers ; there is a small part of him that wonders if he’s being selfish by even trying. but when sebastian whispers his name, when his eyes flicker closed and his body goes slack against him, ethan knows it doesn’t matter. none of those risks are important in comparison to fixing this shit.

he still does not move away from sebastian’s body, even once he’s ceased breathing. he does not quit touching him, thumb stroking along his jaw. it feels somehow important that he stays close, and that’s an instinct that ethan won’t argue with.

he’s dead, silly, that little voice in the back of his head laughs, girlish and airy. he’s dead and you killed him!

she’s right, and yet she isn’t.

seb is dead. ethan did kill him.

but somewhere deep down, as ethan stares at his best friend’s seemingly lifeless form, there’s a feeling of connection.

a flutter. a tug on a string connecting him to the man beneath him. it is sensed by some crucial part of him, almost as if it is in the fibre of his very being, and ethan knows that it’s worked in some way or another.

how well though, he isn’t sure.

sitting here watching and waiting for sebastian’s eyes to open, to see the rise and fall of his chest, feels like an eternity of torment. “ wake up, you bastard, ” ethan murmurs, tone bordering on something close to pleading. “ i know you, seb : you’re stubborn. you’re a fighter. you can do this — just wake the fuck up for me … ”

[f1orza]

Lucky girl part three

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: charles and y/n are seen together sparking dating rumors between the two.

Faceclaim: threemillion

The first and fifth pictures are read bottom up, just wanted to let you guys know just incase, cause I was reading it wrong and I wrote it 😢 also some of the tweets have replies under them so I personally would read those before going to the next tweet)

yourusername • stories

charles_leclerc Enzo was so cute, I can't wait to see him again

yourusername only Enzo? 😪

charles_leclerc don't worry mon chéri, I'll see you soon ❤

y/b/username you took charles and enzo to the beach but didn't invite me??

yourusername sorry 😆

y/b/username did you at least have a good time

yourusername yeah I had a amazing time 🥰

Bestfriend1 UPDATE THE GROUPCHAT NOW

Username16 is it true you're dating Charles?

Username73 what's the dogs name?

yourusername his name is Enzo, y/b/n named him

Username73 help not y/b/n naming him after Enzo Ferrari 😭

yourusername I didn't know for months either 😔

Username73 don't worry queen it happens to the best of us 😌 ( not really just you tbh)

yourusername ohh gagged me fr 😪

Username19 the matching ladybugs, god I've seen what you've done for other 🧎🏼‍♀️🙏🏻

charles_leclerc • stories

yourusername Enzo really likes you 🥰

charles_leclerc only Enzo? 🤔

yourusername you know dogs often take after their owners 🙃

charles_leclerc is that right? So that must mean you like me too

yourusername you could say that

charles_leclerc well I don't have a dog but I might just need too

yourusername well I'm sure if you do, they'd be just as sweet as you 🥰

Username16 is that Y/N's dog?!?!?

y/b/username you went out with my sister and I didn't even know ??

charles_leclerc sorry y/b/n we have been getting to know each other, next time okay we can do something

y/b/username WITHOUT my sister?

charles_leclerc sure we can do that

y/b/username okay, treat her well will you

charles_leclerc promise

Username25 yall just really don't gaf yall posting basically the same pictures 😭

Username3 are you and lucky dating?

Username14 are you guys going to address the rumors or .....🤨

pierregasly how was the date with lucky?

charles_leclerc it was the best date I have ever had, I'm planning on asking her out again soon

arthur_leclerc you actually pulled her?

charles_leclerc yes?

arthur_leclerc with what rizz 🤔

charles_leclerc you'll see, I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend before you know it

Taglist: @ririyulife @2pagenumb @dullypully @tellybearryyyy @raizelchrysanderoctavius @exotic-iris13 @boywondrgrayson @oliviarodrigostan13 @evie-119 @boypls @gigigreens @styl1shl1v @formulaal

[gold-onthe-inside]

A No Body, No Crime song fic about Spencer’s partner seeking justice for their friend’s murder while trying to hide it from Spencer cuz he’s law enforcement. Maybe Spencer’s also investigating the case somehow - can be xOC

smells like infidelity

who? spencer reid x blake!reader (cont. from wrong person...) content warnings: infidelity, murder, gun violence and overall canon typical violence (i mean it, a person is murdered at the end, do not read if squeamish) word count: 2.2k songs: no body, no crime (duh) by taylor swift + still by niall horan a/n: i genuinely had a lot of fun with this one, thank you anon

If there was anything you had learned from being Alex Blake's goddaughter, it was how bureaucracy worked, or rather stopped things from getting done. The Syracuse PD chief had looked at you very empathetically, assuring you that his best detectives were on the case, which wasn't saying much from the state of his precinct. You'd done your research, looked at the number of solved missing persons cases they'd solved and you knew you had to take matters into your own hands, especially considering they'd let go of your main suspect.

Evelyn, or Evie as you knew her, had looked harried when you'd seen her last, barely eating her pasta, before confessing the greatest motive that could exist in a married woman's disappearance - an extramarital affair. "H-He's just different," Evelyn had said, bags under her eyes. "He's been drinking more, and I know what alcoholism looks like, alright? It'd-It'd be one thing if it was beer or whiskey, but wine? He doesn't drink wine, ever."

"Tastes change, Evie," you'd offered weakly, but even you knew it was suspect.

"Not like this," Evie had insisted, and you were fairly certain a vein was about to pop. "And it doesn't explain the pearls he bought from our account. Do I look like a pearls kind of girl?"

You had shaken your head, if only to appease her. "I have to say something, right?" Evelyn had asked. "I mean, I deserve some kind of explanation, we've barely been married a year!"

You had managed to calm her down enough to finish her meal and dessert, and you'd assured her that you had her back, and to call you if anything happened. She never ended up making that call. Another Tuesday night passed, nothing. You'd called her cell, checked with her workplace, all but her husband, until the police told her that he had already reported her missing. You had thought about telling Spencer, but it had only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other (which had been infuriating to tell Alex, with her smug 'I told you so' face). Instead, you had left Alex a voicemail, telling her what you were gonna do, and then headed back upstate to talk to her husband, some lawyer who you had thought was far too smooth to be real.

It was late evening when you used the knocker to his door, stepping back and looking around the front of the house. A truck was parked out front, and you frowned. You'd always thought he was too posh for a truck like that, and then you noticed the new tires. The door opened and you were face to face with a young woman, probably in her mid-20s, younger than you, younger than Evelyn too. "I'm looking for Harry Weaver?" you asked, keeping your tone polite, your eyes unmistakably catching the pearls around her neck and the velvet emerald wrap dress that you swore she had seen Evie wear a few Christmases ago.

"And you are?" she asked, raising a perfect eyebrow.

"He knows me," you said, not indelicately, but it was in everyone's best interest if this woman got out of her way.

The woman looked you up and down, clocking that you were nowhere close in competition with her perfect blonde curls and petite figure, then stepped back. "Harry, love!" she called out, and you stepped over the threshold, the interior nothing like the truck standing outside. "Someone's here to see you." Her black stilettos clacked over the polished wooden floors, past a round table with a lacy table runner and what was clearly an expensive vase filled with fresh flowers. Noone should be this rich, was the first thought to occur, and then there he was, in a tight polo shirt, a Rolex on his wrist and sharp blue eyes that rivalled Pierce Brosnan, coming down a spiral staircase in polished dress shoes (seriously, who wears those indoors?).

His eyes sparkled in recognition of you. "She's here about Evelyn, no doubt," Harry said, holding out his hand for you, and you took it, smiling sadly, well-practiced, even though the fact that there was no ring on his finger made you want to twist his arm until it fractured.

"The police have no idea where she's gone," you said, dropping his hand, which he used to gesture for you to take a seat.

"Trust me, I've spared no expense in trying to find her," Harry said, his voice still smooth as butter. "My PI suggests it's stress. She wanted a fresh start and… Our marriage was in the way, it seems."

"It's the first I'm hearing of it," you said.

"Can I get you something to drink?" the woman asked. "Wine? We've got a great Merlot."

"I have to drive," you said, your face apologetic and helpless, and you swore something flickered in her eye.

"Harry, honey, what about you?" she asked, looking at the man who couldn't deny her anything.

"Sure, what's a small glass between friends?" he said and you resisted a scoff. His wife was probably dead, and he had killed her, and still had the nerve to play the cool guy around them.

The woman gave him a saccharine smile, walking away, and Harry looked at you. "It's not what it looks like," he said lowly. "I decided to work from home, what with Evie gone. The last thing I need is police showing up at my place of work, and I can't do a thing without Betty. She's my secretary."

How cliché, you thought. Having an affair with his secretary, seriously? Are we still in the 90s? "Of course," you said  placidly. "By the way, I wanted to ask, the truck outside, is that yours?"

"No, that'd be Betty's. Or rather, her father's. He, uh, used to fix boats or something, I don't really know," Harry said, waving his hand carelessly, before letting out a sigh. "Look, I know why you're here. I don't know what Evie told you, but it's not true."

"She's wearing Evie's dress," you said lowly, almost dangerous, your anger bleeding through.

"She spilled coffee on her dress and needed a change," Harry said and you scoffed.

"Evie's not gone two days, and you've gone and replaced her. I can't get my guy to replace my TV that fast."

"We had a fight, that's it," Harry insisted, looking at you. "She… She was convinced that I wasn't faithful, refused to believe me, I mean, she was getting hysterical."

"And then what, she just packed her bags and left?" you asked.

"No, she just… she just left," Harry said, looking broken, but you knew his ability to fake it. "You have to know… I love Evie more than anything. It's just this merger's been eating up all my time and she got the wrong idea. She's the only one for me, you have to believe me!"

"Is that right?" Betty asked, walking over with a bottle of Merlot and a glass of wine. "Evie's the only one for you?"

Harry swallowed, his eyes widening as Betty approached him, a sneering look on her face, and you could tell this wasn't about to end well. You're praying you're pressing the right numbers, sending it to the right person, your hand in your coat pocket.

"Betty, no, I-I only meant--"

"Evie, Evie, Evie, God, you never shut up about her," Betty scoffed, dropping the glass with every intention, the sound of it shattering making you flinch.

"Betty, baby, listen--"

"I have done everything to get you to look at me," Betty cried, staggering towards him with the bottle in hand. "You told me I was prettier than her, you told me!"

"Betty, calm down, you're getting hysterical," Harry said, hoping a firm hand would guide her, and you inched away, hoping to be imperceptible.

"Betty…" you said slowly, "what did you do?" Harry looked at you, frowning.

"You don't seriously think Betty--"

"Why not?" Betty asked, tears flooding her eyes, red and watery, her voice loud and shaky. "Or did you think itty bitty Betty was just some girl you could fuck and shelve away?"

"Betty," you said, swallowing, "did you do something to Evie?"

"God, I am so sick of that bitch!" Betty cried, looking at you, all but snarling. "She's gone, okay?" she yelled at you. "Get over it!"

"Betty, what did you do?" Harry asked, stepping forward. "Did you hurt Evie?"

"Stop saying her name!" she shrieked, swinging the bottle back to hit Harry right in the head and all you could do was clap your hands over your mouth as the man toppled over, his head hitting the polished floors with a crack. Betty didn't even look especially pressed about it, watching the supposed love of her life sprawled unconscious, glass and wine spilled all over the floor. At least, you hoped he was only unconscious, and Betty took a swig of wine, then put it down with a sigh, her hand slipping into her pocket to pull out a revolver.

"Betty, what are you--" She didn't even wait for you to finish the question before shooting Harry in the head and it was all you could do to not scream. Run. You should run. There's no way Alex and Spencer can get here before-- Betty raised her gun right at you.

"Sorry," Betty said, not sounding sorry at all, "Can't leave behind a witness."

"Wait!" You cried out. "Please! Just-Just tell me what happened. I-I just want the truth."

Betty scoffed, tilting her wrist. "The truth? Harry was sick of her, and I gave him what that bitch never could. But he didn't have the nerve to drop her. All that high society bullshit. So I did what he didn't have the balls to do. I killed her. Good thing Daddy told me to get a boating licence at 15. Not to mention the life insurance policy I get to collect in a few weeks."

"How are you gonna convince the police it wasn't you?" you asked, managing to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Oh, that's easy," she said, grinning at you. "You came here, convinced that Harry killed Evie, and you shot him out of revenge. And then I caught you after you dumped him," she gestured to Harry, "And guess who'd left their gun behind when you took him? So, of course, I had no choice but to shoot you in self-defence. Sorry, honey. Guess this is the end."

You swallowed, out of cards to play, and closed your eyes when you heard the faintest siren outside. "Not yet," you said, right before the door burst open, Morgan kicking it down, followed by Spencer and Hotch. You felt your boyfriend (technically, you hadn't talked about labels yet) wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you away from Betty while Derek and Hotch had the woman surrounded.

"She killed Evelyn," you kept repeating as Spencer ushered you out of the house and to the waiting ambulance.

"I know, I know, angel, we've got her now," he said, and you frowned.

"How did you get here so soon?" you asked, as you felt someone wrap a blanket around you, your gaze fixed on Spencer.

"Blake told me about Evelyn," Spencer said, shrugging. "I wanted to help, but JJ said if you wanted you'd ask for it, so, I worked it out on my own. Figured it had to be Betty. She owned the truck, had the boating license, knew enough about the law to get away with it."

You sighed, sitting on the edge of the ambulance. "Well, that's just embarrassing. I didn't realise it until she came out with that wine."

"That's okay," Spencer said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You don't have FBI resources at your beck and call." You smiled at the gesture, but Spencer still looked serious. "You do, however, have me at your beck and call. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to get you in trouble at work," you said softly. "I know Strauss doesn't appreciate you lot crossing red tape."

"I'd rather have Strauss mad at me than find you…" He couldn't even finish the sentence, he was that terrified of losing her.

"I know," you said gently, taking his hand in yours. "I should have asked for help."

"Hotch is getting Syracuse PD to drag the water to see if we can find Evelyn," he said, shaking his head. "I know these local precincts are overburdened and underpaid, but this level of incompetence in handling this case is…"

"Thank you," is all you have in you to say, and it's not enough. You have to kiss him, like it's your birthright, your hands on his waist, his large, spindly hands cupping your jaw as he takes your breath away. He pulled away, all too soon, having to remember that he was here as a professional.

"Come on, it'll be dark soon, and you're not wearing nearly enough layers for the forecast." You chuckled lightly, keeping the blanket around your shoulders, coupled with his warmth, as he guided you to the car.