#and although i had a whole thing planned

[kitsunecrows]

study break! 🍵 (read tags)

[apassingbird]

i met my oldest half-brother for the first time in eight years today and it was such a strange experience in the best possible way

[alicevandrusen]

Inktober Day 18: The Hanged Man

Upright: sacrifice, waiting, uncertainty, lack of direction, perspective, contemplation

Reversed: stalling, disinterest, stagnation, avoiding sacrifice, standstill, apathy

A noose not always be something to hang from the rafters, but anything that would hold someone still where they stood. The figures stands at the bottom of the ocean of their own doing, as sacrifice was needed for progress needed. As the world goes on without them and their story lives on, perhaps they can find peace in forgiving themselves for taking a responsibility and mistake that they shouldn’t have had to make.

The story is even sadder than the description in Ingrained. And the world still survives after them, that broke my heart.

Ten year olds shouldn’t be asked to save the world, that’s how you get Team Rainbow Rocket. Super fucked this story could actually be real in some alternate timeline.

[crossbackpoke-check]

nosy anon again making a return because i think what my brain did was read that i helped find some kind of writing and then did not fully process what the writing was?? but upon rereading i am very intrigued if you ever get the urge to share i will be all eyes/ears/senses required to enjoy things!!

I GET TO DO WIP WEDNESDAYYYYYY!!! the writing exists mostly in the form of a tag (fantastic! 'verse) and also a thirty-two page doc of snippets and planning, so the sense you will be using most is imagination:

don't think i have ever actually formally written out anything about fantastic! 'verse but! the tl;dr of it is that it's a semi-college au: joel is still a hockey player for the lv phantoms, but morgan is a college student-athlete. it's incredibly relevant to the plot that joel falls in love with morgan in the check-out line of a wegman's, lies a little bit, and ends up going back to get his degree.

most of it is just good fun about college kids growing up, but i think there's a lot of parallels between making your way through a development system where traditional "success" isn't always guaranteed (ahl -> nhl, completion of higher education -> pursuit of a career) because that development system isn't always designed for you to "succeed" or have opportunities. heavy quotation marks around success because part of that struggle is learning what you want in life and how you define success. are your dreams achievable? are they still the same dreams you always used to have? it's infinite branching universes of would you still love me if i was a worm (ahl player forever) (a college dropout) (a college graduate) (older) (realizing the fallibility of your body) (uncertain of the future) (human).

silly little snippet:

[brawberryz]

Goodbye World

BatFam Yan! × Neglected Magic Girl! Reader

《Platonic》

Note / English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / M.List

Pt: 1 2

"(NAME), PLEASE DON'T GO!"

the girl screamed trying to stop her, this couldn't be happening, this shouldn't have happened, I was supposed to have more time but your transformation accelerated

"I'm sorry, ######, but there's no time left... sorry"

"Please (Name)!, don't go..."

The girl felt tears falling from her face, she was supposed to save you but she made the same mistake again...

"Goodbye"

You gave her one last smile before falling to the ground and your body began to deform

"(NAMEE)!"

The girl screamed for the last time before your vision went dark, there was no more pain or suffering, you felt like your body was deformed but you couldn't feel or do anything it was like you only had your conscience left

The original (name) had disappeared forever, and there was nothing else to do

Or well, maybe there was something they could do

_

Bruce was sitting in front of the batcomputer trying to find any trace of you, but there was nothing, not even a trace, it was like you had vanished in the wind

He felt too bad since your last interaction with you, if he had known what would happen he would never have let you go from that hug

But it's just "would have" it was too late to regret but he could still fix things, he would find you and take you home with everyone else and finally have the family you always dreamed of

"We found nothing, not a single clue"

Richard entered the batcave feeling defeated Again, he went out with the whole family to look for some clue but there was nothing, they even tried to see if some villain had you kidnapped but there was no one who knew about you

"This is shit"

Jason said angrily while leaning against a wall, as much as he didn't want to admit it in a way it was his fault he always treated you badly and insulted you

You had too many reasons to leave the mansion and hate all of them, but if he was honest he hated the feeling that you had left, you are supposed to be a family and you should stay together

Wherever you are they will find you and when they do they will never let you escape from their hands again

"And Tim?"

Bruce asked without taking his eyes off the Batcomputer, he hated feeling like he couldn't be in control, not having control over you, like he always had

"He decided to stay a little longer to patrol and see if he found something"

Jason said putting his hands in his jacket pockets, wherever you are he just hoped you were okay although knowing how Gotham is, it would be a miracle if you were okay without a single scratch

"I'm leaving here"

Damian spoke as he walked angrily out of the batcave, a part of him was angry with you and with himself, he was angry with you because you abandoned him without even saying goodbye or giving him reasons, you decided to hide and not tell anyone

He hated having things hidden from him, and at the same time he was angry with himself for how he treated you in the past, but he had changed he swears! When you get back to the mansion she'll be the best sister you've ever seen

"Damian, wait-"

Richard tries to stop him but Damian just pushes him out of his way before yelling at him

"SHUT UP, I don't plan on staying here even a minute longer.(Name) is lost somewhere in this stupid city and all we do is stay here like idiots"

Damian said angrily as he quickly left the batcave

Richard just sighed, when Damian had something in mind there was nothing that would stop him from reaching it, not even his own family

_

Damian walked angrily down the hallway of the mansion cursing under his breath

He continued walking until a door caught his attention, it was half open and he could barely see the small light coming out

Curious, he decided to open it, he was surprised when he realized it was your room...

It was small but still well decorated, it bothered him a little that your room was so far away from the others

He didn't want to invade your privacy (if he wanted to) but the curiosity about your things was too great, he began looking in your drawers but only found unfinished crafts or clothes

It seemed strange to him that all your clothes were still in their place, if the theory that you ran away was true you should have brought some clothes, but everything was completely in order

As he continued looking he found a photo album, it seemed old since it had some dust

He removed the dust that it had and decided to open it, there was almost nothing interesting just photos of you, some from when you were little and others from your birthdays

But there was one that caught his attention, you were in a park with a girl, it seemed to him It was strange that you had left since you never left the mansion

He was also very bothered by the approach that girl had with (name), who did she think she was to touch her sister like that?

But if he was honest, in that photo you really looked happy...

You didn't have that forced happiness like in all the photos, in this one it was seen that you really felt happy with that strange girl

He put aside the album and went back to searching through your things to see if he could find something else

Some of your drawers were full of board games full of dust, he remembered that once you asked him to play one with you but he simply ignored you and said that you had time for children's games

A soft voice took him out of his thoughts

"What are you doing in (name)'s room?"

Cassadran asked, looking at Damian with doubt. She thought it was strange that he was in your room since she thought she was the only one besides Alfred who knew your room.

"Something that doesn't matter to you."

Damian answered abruptly as he continued searching through your drawers.

"You seem too worried about her to be going through her things without permission."

Cassadran spoke again. She thought it was strange that none of the family members were around the house, but she didn't pay much attention and decided to go to your room to greet you. But she was surprised when she found Damian searching through your things.

"So what? It doesn't matter now that (name) is missing. I don't think it will bother her. Besides, it's for research purposes."

Damian was getting tired of Cass's insistence, because out of nowhere he is so worried about his privacy. Were you two close?

"Missing?"

Cassadran repeated in surprise, that answer hit Cass hard, she never imagined it would really happen, were you able to leave the mansion? Although if she was honest you had reasons to leave this fucking place

"Yes, my sister is missing and apparently I'm the only one who cares about her and tries to find some clue, so go away you're just bothering me"

Damian let out a snort of annoyance before resuming his search through your things

"She's your sister now?"

That answer took Damian by surprise, what the hell was she referring to

"What..."

"She's your sister now?" Cass repeated again before speaking again "you always left her aside, well, everyone left them aside and I include myself but it seems hypocritical to me that you want to blame others when you are also guilty, you always look to blame others for your problems because you are an egocentric and selfish person who only thinks about himself, you don't care about her you just want to have a reason not to feel bad about yourself"

Those words left Damian speechless, he hated to admit it but she was right although he would never admit it out loud

He simply looked away and focused on continuing to search pretending as if Cassandra's words hadn't mattered to him

Cass turned around and left the room before giving Damian one last look

Deep down she hoped you were okay wherever you were, but if you were truly lost she was going to do whatever it took to find you, she wasn't going to allow herself to lose another important thing for her, not anymore

_

Tim was jumping from building to building trying to find some clue about you, but there was nothing. He had been investigating criminals, villains or gangs all night but no one knew anything about you.

At this point the guilt was drowning him, he felt like the worst brother in the world. How could he forget someone so important?

Most likely you are now in some dangerous place, alone and scared thinking that no one will go looking for you because you are not important enough for them.

But he will do everything possible to find you, I promise.

He decided to stop at the top of a tall building so he could rest. He felt the worst. He had been patrolling all over Gotham for more than 4 hours but had found nothing. At this point he felt like he would never find you. No...no, if he found you he should not lose hope. You were somewhere in this place...he just had to find out where.

He felt something fast approaching him. Before he could react correctly and dodge it, a supernatural force ended up throwing him against the fire escape of another building.

Shit... that hurt, he was sure he broke his back or some rib, that thing that pushed him had too much force, it was clear that it was not a criminal or villain, they were too fast and strong to be one

But before he could get up he saw how a black mass with a strange figure approached quickly

It was easily the size of a damn bus or bigger, whatever it was was not human, that black mass reminded him too much of someone, he felt that he knew that figure from somewhere

But before he could think that large figure ended up hitting him again

It seemed as if that thing had something personal with him like some kind of hatred or resentment

Tim tried with all his strength to recover from that last blow, he had to warn the others about this thing and to come quickly before this strange creature taken from a horror story finished him off

With his last strength he grabbed the communicator and sent a signal for help before that thing hit him again now with more force causing his body to hit a wall

It seems you already have your first victim in your hands, you were going to finish off all those who made you feel miserable and you were going to make them feel the same pain that they made you feel

The original (name) had already died, the only thing left was this creature full of resentment and hatred

You were going to destroy every person who stood in your way and if that meant having to destroy the city or the world you were going to do it

"MADOKA PLEASE DON'T GO" aahhh reference 😭🙏💀

Sorry if it's too short or something, I hope you enjoy this shitty chapter

You can leave me questions or anything about this AU, I'll be happy to answer them🙏

[maybankiara]

okay but i'm working on phone swap again and i had to read the full thing to remember all the details and man. the way i was squealing like i was 14 again, reading some cute shit. the way i woke up in the morning and my boyfriend was trying to get me out of bed but i was just like 'no i can't i have to keep reading it's so tense these characters just broke up' and he was like. okay. aren't you reading your own story. and i was like yes i am sir and that is precisely why i need to get back into it because holy shit phone swap is so good in some aspects and i just. i can't wait to start sharing it with the world again, whenever that may be

[snoopyracing]

it’ll pass // mv33

pairing: max verstappen X engineer!reader

word count: 18.5k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use. this is about the 2024 season and while i tried to make things as accurate as possible some things are tweaked for the storyline. so just read for the vibes and not biblically accurate season info :)

includes: right person wrong time, childhood friends, hidden relationship, a little friends to lovers, and ANGST

summary: when you think you've finally gotten everything you want in life... it goes and shows you just how unfair it can be.

playlist for the fic: apple music | spotify

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not many children are certain on what they want to be when they grow up, especially at age nine, but you were an exception. Sure – millions of children say they are going to be a veterinarian or a doctor when they grow up, but how many of them actually end up being that? Life happens, plans change, and reality sets in for the majority of Earth’s population. Although you never planned on any of that happening to you. There was never a doubt in your mind that you were going to be anything other than a race car driver, but even the most determined and strong willed people get dealt a shit hand at some point in their life.  

You’d been surrounded by racing your whole life – a perk of your Dad being a successful rally car driver. The sound of the engines and the smell of the exhaust were ingrained into your brain by age five. You were a wild child, a thrill seeker and definitely your Father’s child according to your Mother, but you knew even if your Dad wasn’t a racer that you would have still found yourself drawn to racing one way or another. For a good chunk of your early childhood you claimed to want to be a rally driver like your Dad, much to your Mom’s dismay, but that all changed when you attended your first Formula 1 race.

F1 wasn’t a foreign concept to you, your family watched and attended lots of different kinds of racing, but you’d never been to an actual Formula 1 race before. The atmosphere was completely different to anything you’d ever experienced and watching it on TV was nothing compared to seeing it in real life. You were enthralled by the sounds and hustle and bustle of everything. Not to mention how fast the cars actually were. The little adrenaline junkie in you was on cloud nine and by the time the checkered flag was waved and the car crossed the finish line you knew you wanted to be the one driving it. 

Luckily being brought up in a motosports family meant you somewhat had an upper hand. You were blessed to have the finances to start karting and not to mention a very long list of connections. And sure having all these things help you, but you’ve still got to have the talent. Which in your case was never an issue. You were a menace on the track, a force not to be reckoned with, and your Dad taught you not to take any shit from any of the insecure little boys. Trophies and medals lined your walls and there was never a doubt in your mind that you couldn’t make it to the top, that was until you got older. 

As your brain developed more so did your understanding that a lot of people and your competitors didn’t think women belonged in racing. Sure when you were younger some of the boys teased you, but it was never anything that bothered you much. It wasn’t until you were around fifteen and looking to move over to single seater racing that you faced your first real case of self doubt. Even with you being one of the best drivers in your division you still had to work ten times harder than the worst male driver to prove to everyone that you were worthy to be there. It was exhausting to constantly be ridiculed, to hear people say you only had gotten this far because of who your Dad was. It amazed you how you had won all these championships and races and people still didn’t think you had the raw talent that you so clearly possessed. 

Even with spells of self doubt and days where it felt like the world was against you, you’d somehow made it to Formula 2. That Formula 1 seat that you’d dreamt about since a child was almost in your grasp and you were more determined now than ever to prove that you were one of the 20 best drivers in the world. You knew that this season was your make or break, if you didn’t put in 110% then what were you even doing here? You needed to make a statement, but even the most astronomical statement couldn’t help the fact that your fate was decided when you were born a female. 

It didn’t matter that you had won basically every championship in the previous feeder series or that you were clearly on your way to win the F2 championship. It didn’t matter if people claimed that you were the future of Formula 1 or if Susie Wolff was your mentor. It didn’t matter that you had meetings with just about every F1 team about the possibility of a seat next year or that you had a well known last name. None of it mattered because at the end of the day no one was actually ready to sign a woman as a driver. Sure, they’d string you along and give you the false hope of somewhat talking about a contract and then go and sign a driver who you could lap with your eyes closed. Sometimes you just thought they liked the publicity that the team got from the news of you being in talks with them and couldn’t care less about actually giving you the time of day.

Finally accepting that you weren’t going to get a seat in Formula 1 was a devastating out of body experience. You were sat in an uncomfortable chair in between Susie and your Dad as they tried to bargain you a seat at Williams. Although it wasn’t your first choice, you had thought and prayed that with a female CEO and Susie having ties there that Williams would be your saving grace. It was your last option at this point and as you sat there their voices became background noise and the longer you studied Claire’s body language you knew this was the end. You had zoned out, your fingers bloody from subconsciously picking at the skin around your nails as your mind wandered to a place that wasn’t this meeting. 

Ever so often you’d hear a statement from one of them and it only made you more catatonic. 

“She’s in a league of her own, Claire. I mean she’s a million times better than I ever was as a driver.” 

“Her stats alone should tell you everything you need to know. She’s more qualified than the drivers you’ve got right now. I can tell you that.” 

It’s what comes out of Claire’s mouth next that brings you back to reality and what also seals your fate. “We could offer you being a development driver like Susie was or possibly a reserve.” 

Your eyes focus on her as you sit up in your chair. “I don’t want to be a development driver or a reserve driver. I want to be in the car every race weekend. I want to be an actual driver and I know I’m more than qualified to be one.” 

You can feel your Dad and Susie’s eyes on you, surprised at your sudden brashness, yet they didn’t reprimand you. Both of them knew you deserved better than what you were getting dealt. You watch as Claire clasps her hands together and a tight lipped expression forms across her face. “I hate to say this, but we just can’t afford to take the risk.” 

“The risk?” You question, fully knowing what that risk is. 

She clears her throat, her eyes darting from Susie to your Dad and then finally landing back on you. “Yes you have talent, but we can’t take the risk as a team right now to sign a female driver. We are barely holding on the way it is and signing a female– it just– we can’t be the team to experiment with that right now, no matter how good you are. I’m sorry.” 

“So a woman can run a racing team, but just can’t drive for one? Got it.” You’re trying to be professional, but you’d already heard that sorry excuse so many times before and your dreams were literally getting crushed right in front of you, so who can blame you for being a little shitty.

“It’s not just me making this decision Y/N. There’s a million other factors and people that go into this decision. If it could be different I promise it would be.” The strained look on Claire’s face does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, if anything it makes it worse

There’s an awkward silence that fills the room and you want nothing more than to be out of this suffocating room. Your emotions are starting to bubble over and the last thing you want is for someone to spot you looking less than thrilled. In society a man is allowed to react and a woman can only overreact. There’s been countless times where your quote on quote emotions after a difficult race are used against you in an attempt to prove you shouldn’t be racing. 

The wooden legs of your chair screech across the floor as you get up and even though you don’t want to, you reach your hand out towards Claire. “Thank you for your time, it was nice talking with you.” 

“My offer still stands. I think it would be wise to think it over.” Her grip on your hand is firm as she speaks, but it does nothing to change your mind. 

You give her one last thank you before swiftly exiting the room and making your way out of the building. It’s not until you’re in the safety of the blacked out SUV that you finally let yourself fully feel your emotions. And once the first tear falls there’s no stopping the ones that come after. You’re angry that even with the talent you so clearly possess, no one will give you a chance. That you’d worked this hard, gave up your childhood and the possibility of having a normal one to do this. Spent hours, days, months training and being away from home just to get to this spot in your life. Your one dream in life was almost in your grasp, your fingertips could brush against it, that’s how close it was. Yet on a sunny afternoon on a random Monday it was ripped away from you.   

Sobs echo through the empty car and you’d never felt more hopeless than you do right now. You spot your Dad talking with Susie outside the building and a short minute later he’s walking towards the car. You try to pull yourself together, you don’t want your Dad to see you like this, but when he gets into the driver's seat you lose it all over again. You somehow feel like you’ve let your Dad down, he’s been your biggest supporter during this whole journey and you not getting a seat felt like the equivalent of you being the worst child ever.

Your Dad couldn’t be more proud of you though, he’d never seen someone work so hard to accomplish their dreams and he was always going to be in your corner no matter what happened. His heart breaks when he gets into the car and sees you so upset and defeated, he’s half tempted to march back in there and demand that they sign you. But right now he knows you need him more than anything. He reaches over the center console and pulls you into him the best he can. His little girl deserved so much better than what you had been dealt and he only wished he could take that hurt you were feeling right now away from you. 

“Darling I know this hurts right now. If I could, I’d make a whole racing team from scratch just so you could fulfill your dreams, but this isn’t the end for you. Maybe you could try different kinds of racing? Indycar? Endurance? Maybe follow in your old man's footsteps?” His hand gently rubs against your arm as you sniffle into his chest. “You never know, maybe if you take the reserve spot you could get a seat the following year.” 

You lift your head up, your eyes bloodshot as you make eye contact with him. “Dad, we both know that's not true. They’d just string me along.” You lean back into the leather seat as you close your eyes, already feeling a headache coming on. “I know life isn’t fair, but this is some cruel level of unfairness. I wish I had been born a boy because I know I would not be in this situation right now if I was.”

“You’re correct, if you were a boy you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. But that is only because you wouldn’t be half the racer you are as a guy. You’ve gotten this far and you’ve got the talent you do because of who you are and that includes being a woman. I like to take credit for your skills, but honey all your will power and strength and smarts and hell just about everything else you get from your Mother. The guts to be in love with dangerous racing I will take credit for though.“ He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on the side of your face, gently wiping away your tears. “Listen, people may be blind and ignorant now, but when they finally realize just how good women can be in motorsports and stop being pussies and take that risk, they are going to regret waiting so long.” 

His words do nothing to calm the raging storm in your mind. “I know, but I wanted to be that person. I wanted that realization to happen now. I worked so hard and what did I get in return? To be passed over by someone who’s absolute shit? It hurts so bad.” 

His hands reach back over to yours, enveloping your much smaller ones in his as he tries to comfort you in any way he can. “That feeling will pass. It hurts now, but it’ll pass. I promise you.” 

The feeling never truly passes. 

You learn to deal with it, trying to find the positives in life, but the ache is still there. It's like a bad knee that hurts when it’s cold outside. It’s not there all the time, but certain moments take you back to that awful day. It hurts when you win the F2 championship and still don’t have a seat in F1. It hurts when interviewers ask you about what your future holds. It hurts when you see people you raced with as a kid be that one of twenty that you want to be so bad. 

Once the F2 season ends you honestly have no idea what you are planning on doing with your life. You really don’t want to dabble in other forms of racing, but you know if you take a year off your chances of getting that golden seat become even more slim. 

It’s not until the FIA Gala that you come to the conclusion that maybe you should take up the offer of being a reserve driver. You know you’re going against every word you’ve previously said and every stubborn bone in your body doesn’t want you to do this, but there’s nothing you want more than to be a Formula 1 driver. And if there is even a .1% chance that you could get that seat by doing a year as a reserve first, then you’d be dumb to not try. You know all the odds are against you and maybe you’re betting on a losing dog, but you needed to at least believe in yourself if no one else was. It’s a choice that you’ve mulled over for what seems like an eternity, but it’s a certain Dutch driver that makes you take the final leap off the edge. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’ve known Max since you were kids in karting. The two of you were pretty close friends as kids, often seen attached at the hip around the track during race weekends. He’d found solace with you and your family, something that looking back now, you were glad to have been able to give him. He was the only other person who you truly considered competition back in those days. It was always a fun time when you raced against Max, mainly because he treated you like an equal, but also never downplayed your talent. He knew you were good and he expressed that many times– something that meant a lot to you back then and still does today.

As you two got older your friendship started to fade for no reason other than taking different paths. When he skipped F2 and went straight into F1 you were pissed, but he had the talent, you couldn’t deny that. You’d sometimes see him on weekends when F1 and F2 raced together, a few short words spoken in passing, but it was never like the old days. Your lives didn’t necessarily coincide anymore, he was making waves as the youngest F1 driver to exist and you were stuck in F2. So when he approached you at the Gala you were surprised. 

You’d been playing good racing driver and making small talk all night, talking to sponsors and random rich men who loved to hear  themselves talk. You’d finally escaped the tortuous sea of networking and found yourself at a somewhat secluded table with a flute of champagne in front of you. You hadn’t been at the table for very long  before you heard a familiar Dutch accent coming from behind you. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You turned to see the one and only Max Verstappen standing there with his hand on the back of the seat next to you. Your eyes scanned across the white linen tablecloth to the several empty chairs surrounding the table and then back to Max. “I think they all might be spoken for, but I’m sure they can find another table to sit at.” He lets out a little chuckle as he sits down and you notice him fidgeting with his tie, clearly trying to loosen it. “It’s weird seeing you in anything other than your race suit or team kit.” 

His movements halt as his eyes comb over you and it makes you squirm slightly in your seat. “Could say the same about you.” 

He’s not wrong though, the dress you’ve picked out for tonight is nothing shy of stunning, but it’s not you. You always felt like these events were a form of torture more than anything and having to get all dressed up was just the cherry on top. 

“I saw that you had a good season.” You state before taking a sip of your champagne. 

Max’s eyebrows raise in surprise towards you, like you’ve just said the craziest thing. “I don’t think we should be talking about my season when you’ve just won a championship.” 

You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs as you adjust your dress. “It’s only an F2 championship Max.” There’s still a part of you that’s slightly bitter about him leaving you behind and you wonder what this night would be like if you were an F1 driver like him. 

“It still means something.” His baby blue eyes narrowed at you as he spoke. 

The remaining champagne in your glass is gone in seconds, this isn’t where you wanted this conversation to end up, but somehow you knew it was inevitable. “It doesn’t mean much if it can’t even grant me that seat I want. I won that championship basically halfway through the season, but can’t get anyone to offer me anything higher than a reserve driver. How does that mean anything?” 

Max shifts in his seat, he knows this is a sensitive subject to you and he knows what he’s about ready to tell you will probably get him slapped, but he has to at least try. 

“It could mean something and I came over here to talk to you about it.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words, confused as to what he could possibly mean. “I want you as my teammate.” 

You can’t help but laugh slightly at him, the Dutchman had clearly had one too many glasses of champagne tonight. “Did you think to express that to Red Bull before I had that world shortest meeting with them months ago? We all have dreams Max and yours is nice, but it’s a pipe dream.”

He shakes his head and scoots his chair closer to you. “It’s not a dream. It can happen. The team wanted to see how the rest of your season played out, but they for sure want you now.” 

“Where is Daniel going then?” A waiter comes past and you snatch another flute of champagne off of their tray. “And why is this not being discussed in a formal meeting setting?” 

“The team thought you might be more willing if you heard about this from someone you knew pretty well first. You know I’ve always been in your corner.” Max knows this is where the conversation will either go south or you’ll hear him out and he fears the latter isn’t the most likely scenario. “ And Daniel isn’t going anywhere” 

It takes you a moment to understand what Max’s words mean, your glass of champagne hovers near your lips as you slowly realize what he’s insinuating. And this time you actually do laugh at him because how could he think that after your disgruntled conversation just moments ago that you would want the one thing you were dissatisfied with? 

“Max, you've got to be kidding me.” You feel like this is one big prank and your tone is more defeated than upset at this point. 

Max on the other hand is trying to figure out how to convince you that this is your best option without making you throw that glass of champagne in his face. “Just hear me out ok? I know being a reserve is the last thing you want, but I also know that you’re one of the best drivers out there right now. And yes– you should have that seat already and it sucks that they are making you jump through so many hoops, but I’m trying to help you out in any way I can. So please just take Red Bull’s offer. You’d be a reserve for a year and then when Daniel’s contract is up at the end of the season you’d be the number one contender for his spot.” The only thing you can find yourself to do is blankly stare at him. It’s not a guarantee that you would be getting Daniel’s spot, you’d just be a contender and to you that means you would be just used for headlines and never actually considered. 

“You really think this is the best thing for me?” 

A sigh escapes past his lips, he should have known this wouldn’t be as easy as he hoped. “What are you really going to do if you don’t take this offer? You can’t do another season in F2. I mean, you’re driving laps around these guys for fun. You’re wasting your talent here and you’re also wasting it by being so determined to not take this opportunity.” 

Your arms defensively cross over your chest and you want what he’s saying to not make sense, but it is and it’s making you even more irritated. “I could seek out other forms of racing.” 

Max can’t help but roll his eyes at how stubborn you’re being. “You won’t though. You love rallying and yes it’s in your blood, but you lack the experience that you need. Endurance just isn’t you. Indycar is the closest thing to F1, but at the end of the day it’s not Formula 1, so I know you won’t actually seek it out. F1 is what you want Y/N and I’m trying to help you get there.” 

You know what he’s saying is true and it’s a tough pill to swallow, but you still can’t bring yourself to actually accept that this is your best and to be frank your only option at this point. Max can see the gears turning in your head, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip. “Y/N.” He’s trying to get you out of your head and bring you back to him. His hand reaches out and gently lands on your knee and that simple action has your eyes focusing back on his blue ones. 

“How do you know for sure? How do you know that I’ll actually be considered for Daniel’s seat?”  

A heavy sigh comes from Max and you know he’s not going to say what you want to hear. “I don’t. You know the racing world –  just because something is said doesn’t mean it’s true, but there’s a high probability. And I think if there’s even a slim chance and you don’t take it then you’d be dumb. You know I’ll always be in your corner and I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you as my teammate.” 

You still don’t know what to say to him, you’re torn between staying true to your values and not taking anything less than what you deserve and realizing that you may have to accept that this is the only way to even get close to your dream. “Stop making the guys in F2 cry and come join Red Bull, please.” 

A small smile finds its way onto your face when you realize Max is recalling all the boys you used to make cry when you beat them when you were kids. 

“Think you’re the only one I haven’t made cry yet, Verstappen.” 

Max mirrors your smile, the memories of old karting days also replaying in his mind. “Don’t see it happening anytime soon either.” A small chuckle escapes past his lips as he speaks. 

The atmosphere between you two had lightened and as you stare at the smiling Dutchman in front of you there’s really only one thing you can say to him. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After much deliberation, a handful of meetings, and finally accepting that this was unfortunately your best option, you found yourself dressed in a Red Bull team kit three months later in Australia. 

Being a reserve driver was not where you expected to be right now, but you were trying to be more positive about the situation. If it wasn’t for Max you’d probably be sitting at home wallowing in self pity. At least with being a reserve you get to still be around the one thing you love. It was tough though, to be a part of the race weekend, but not actually be able to race. You’re in the team meetings, you occasionally do media, you train like a driver– you do everything that a driver would do on a race weekend except actually drive the car. You sometimes feel like you’re just being taunted, like an animal with a treat just out of its reach. It's hard mentally sometimes, but you push through with the help of a therapist and the hope that this suffering now will be worth it in the end. 

Being a reserve meant you spent basically all of your time on race weekends in the garage. It wasn’t a foreign place to you by any means, but you’d never really been in the garage while the race was happening. You were more accustomed to being the one out on the track and not in here, but you’d grown to love the behind the scenes work. The one thing in particular was the role of race engineer. You were very familiar with them, your own engineer had been with you all through Formula 3 and 2 and you had fully planned on taking them with you into F1 if it was possible. The bond between racer and engineer is a special one, you’ve got to have the utmost trust with one another, know how eachother thinks and trust that they are doing everything in their power to help you. It sounds a little dramatic, but truly what is a racer without their engineer? 

Throughout the season you’d found yourself lingering more and more around the engineers. The occasional times where GP let you sit on the pit wall during practice sessions or qualifying you found yourself glued to the seat next to him. To see how effortlessly Max and him communicate and the level of trust is amazing. It’s a completely different atmosphere and there’s somehow a calm adrenaline that comes over you when you’re on that pitwall. GP makes it look like a piece of cake— looking at data, having multiple people in your ear at once, thinking about strategy. It sounds like a nightmare to some, but you grow to love it. The analytics make the gears in your head turn and the little racing nerd in you can’t seem to get enough. 

You seem to be focusing more on the engineering side of things more than racing at a certain point in the season and maybe it’s because subconsciously you know you aren’t going to get Daniel’s seat so you’re trying to distract yourself with something else. There are some moments during the season that give you hope that perhaps you will be considered, like the couple times you get to drive Max’s car in FP1. That hour you get where it’s just you, the car, and the track in front of you makes you realize why you fell in love with this sport to begin with. It’s just that when that hour is up you’re brought back to reality and you don’t want to get out of the car, but the proud look on Max’s face and his insistent rambling about how it was a no brainer that you finished with the fastest time each session made it a little easier. 

But even with the slivers of hope, Max constantly advocating for you, and not to mention just your raw talent– the team still decides to go with someone else. They don’t come right out and tell you, but you hear the whispers around the paddock and online that Pierre Gasley is who they want. Your name is barely mentioned in talks and when the announcement finally happens at the end of the season you aren’t even surprised. In all honesty yes it hurts, but you knew when you signed that contract that there was the tiniest chance that you’d get that seat and so throughout the season you built your walls up and prepared yourself for the inevitable. 

If it was even possible Max seemed more upset than you about it, but when you tell him over winter break about the other deal you struck he seems to forget all about how you once again had been wronged. Somehow by not getting a racing contract you managed to sign a different one. It was a long depressing month during the end of the season of coming to terms with the fact that your racing career very well may never go any further than F2, but you’d realized that you can still experience your love of racing, just differently, by becoming an engineer. You’d fallen in love with the behind the scenes work during your year as a reserve and GP had somewhat taken you under his wing.

So when the two of you had an actual conversation about you possibly taking the steps to become one it just seemed to click. You’d signed a contract alright, but it wasn’t the one you’d imagined to be signing. The little girl with a dream of being nothing other than a race car driver couldn’t believe that this is where she was headed, but here you were. You were no longer Red Bull Racing reserve driver, you were now a Red Bull Racing apprentice engineer. Even with your knowledge from being a racer for some time, you’d still need to go to school and you somehow managed going to school while working under GP. How you managed that work load you’ll never know. 

Max was thrilled that you two still got to work together and was proud that you’d seeked out a new path for yourself. He’d still be holding out hope that one day you’d get to be teammates, but for now he couldn’t be more happy for you. Especially because you seemed happy with how your life was turning out. 

As the years pass you only grow closer with Max. It’s like you’re joined at the hip sometimes, but you come to realize there’s no one else you’d want to spend the majority of your year with. It feels like your old karting days, he gets you and you get him and for you two that’s just enough. You’re there for his first WDC and you don’t think you’d cried as much as you did then, seeing the boy you raced with as a kid win such a prestigious title. But you also cried for yourself, because as much as you were so proud of Max, you couldn’t help but still mourn the fact that it could have been and should have eventually been you winning a championship. It stings a little less when he wins his second, but that’s mostly because you got so drunk you couldn’t really remember much of it. When you graduate with your degree in engineering Max is there cheering you on, dressed in something other than his team kit for once. You don’t remember much from that night either, but you can’t seem to forget how genuinely proud he seemed of you and how he couldn’t seem to be anyplace other than right next to you. 

The following year with a degree and years of experience now under your belt you get a promotion, mainly because GP got poached by another team for the following season. So for the 2023 season that is truly an iconic one for Max you’re practically his race engineer, but GP is still there right next to you offering his knowledge when needed. 

When it’s finally official that you’ll be taking over the role as Max’s race engineer in 2024 the news is mostly positive, but of course there are some people that think you couldn’t possibly be capable of taking on the role. That a three time worlds champion shouldn’t have a woman as an engineer, let alone one that was around the same age as him. It was funny truly, you were more than qualified to be an engineer. You’d done the schooling and had the experience, yet once again because you were a woman people thought you didn’t deserve the job. 

Max on the other hand was ecstatic that you’d be filling GP’s shoes. He’d had a good run with him, but he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t sure that you two would make an incredible duo. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So maybe this wasn’t how I’d imagined us being teammates, but I did tell you I wanted us to be teammates didn’t I? And I think it’s safe to say I always get what I want.” Max stated as the two of you tried to hide in the corner of this end of season/Max's WDC party/your promotion party. Well technically it was Max’s WDC party, but of course he had to bring you into it and show his appreciation to the team as always. 

He’s clearly had one too many gin and tonics and the goofy smile on his face only got wider as he spoke.

“Cocky much huh? I think that third championship is getting to you.”  

He leaned in closer to you and those pretty baby blues narrowed in on you. “Well when we get my fourth title next year I’ll show you just how cocky I can be.” That was gin and tonic talking and you knew it was time for Max to retire for the night. 

“Alright champ. Think it might be time to call it a night.” Your hand wraps around his bicep to try and guide him towards the exit, but he’s a solid man and he doesn’t even budge. 

“No, it's still early! We haven’t even begun to celebrate you yet!” He’s being loud and pouty and all up in your personal space, classic signs of drunk Max. And truth be told you don’t want the attention on you whatsoever, hence you hiding in the corner. Which of course Max had invaded as soon as he could.  “Come on just one more drink?” 

You know one more drink is never just one more, but for whatever reason tonight you can’t tell him no. And so hours later when you’re both making your way down the fancy hotel hallway towards his room you don’t even recall wanting to leave early. Both of you tipsy are always giggling messes and when Max can’t seem to get his key card to work to get into his room it’s apparently the funniest thing on earth to you. Which in turn has Max laughing and you don’t realize how loud you two actually are until the door across from his opens and a disgruntled elderly man is stood there in his robe. 

“Sorry!” You barely squeak out to the man as Max finally gets his key card to work and you’re pushing him into his room before the old man can respond. When you hear the door click behind you, the both of you are stood in silence staring at each other for a moment and then laughter erupts out of both of you. 

Max plops down on his bed and you take that as a sign that he’s safely made it back to his room and you’ve fulfilled your duty as his friend tonight. “Alright. You’re safe and sound which means I’m gonna head to my room. Goodnight Max.” 

He quickly sits up on the edge of his bed at your farewell, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he wonders if he should go through with the idea that’s been consuming his brain for some time now. He had enough liquor in him now to justify even considering it. It’s not until your hand touches the door knob that he finally speaks up. “Y/N. Wait.” 

Your head whips around at the sound of his voice and by the time you’re fully turned around he’s inches away from you. “If this is you trying to convince me to rally and head back out I’m convinced you want me dead, Verstappen.” 

“No no, it’s nothing like that.” His voice is soft and you can almost feel the energy in the room change. 

“What is it then?” You throw him a questioning look. 

He’d cracked the can of worms and if he didn’t fully open them soon he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance again. “Um- there’s something I-” How was he supposed to tell the girl who in less than a month is going to be his official race engineer that he has feelings for her? He’d been somewhat harboring them since they were kids and as he got older and the feelings seemed to lessen he figured it was just a silly little childhood crush. He’d only then realized since becoming as close as the two of you have ever been these past couple years that those feelings were not just ones of a silly little childhood crush.

Sure it started out as that and yeah his feelings may have just gotten pushed down when your lives started to go in different directions, but now that he had you with him all the time and your relationship had blossomed into something more than just two kids on the kart track. He’d come to the conclusion that those feelings never actually went away. And he knows he should have said something sooner because this new phase in your relationship and your work relationship takes priority over his romantic feelings, but Max can’t help but be greedy. The three time world drivers champion surprisingly wants to have his cake and to eat it too.

The alcohol coursing through his veins isn’t really helping him in thinking that clearly, he can’t seem to muster up the words in the order he wants, it’s all jumbled up and he starts speaking in Dutch without realizing it. 

“Max, you're making no sense. You’re drunk, just talk to me in the morning or guess I should say afternoon by the way you seem to be sounding.” He’s tipsy, not drunk. He could hold a conversation, but apparently not when it came to confessing his feelings. The liquid courage he thought he had possessed was clearly no longer working in his favor. It’s only when he feels your hand touch his forearm that he pulls himself together. “When I signed that contract to be your race engineer I didn’t think it would include babysitting.” You slightly teased him as you tried to guide him back to his bed, but like back at the party his feet stayed planted to the plush carpet. 

You knew drivers and their engineers were close, you had to be, but there was something definitely different about Max and yours relationship. Maybe it was because you had known each other since you were children, but you two were for sure closer than the average duo. Case and point– the situation you two had currently found yourselves in. You didn’t know of any engineers and drivers who went out and hung out outside of work like you guys do or even party like you two do, but for you guys it was normal. So perhaps things would have to change when the season officially started. 

“If you’re going to be so stubborn then you can put yourself back to bed.” Your hand drops from his arm as you turn towards the door to leave when you feel his much larger hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. “Max-” 

Your faces are inches apart and his pupils are so dilated that those pretty blue eyes that always stare back at you resemble something more of a black hole than a spring sky. “I may regret doing this, but I think if I don’t I’ll regret it even more.” 

And it’s in this moment that everything between the two of you changes and your lives are forever altered. 

You don’t even get to question what Max is talking about before you feel his plump pink lips against yours. Your brain short circuits and it takes you a second to realize what is actually happening, but by the time your brain catches up with your lips he’s already pulled away and cursing. 

“Fuck I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Clearly you don’t feel the same-” 

Max doesn’t even get to finish his rambling before your grabbing at the material of his shirt and pulling him back towards you. Your lips crashing into each others and this time he’s the one surprised. His hands reach up to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, your lips moving in perfect synchronization. The night's drinks linger heavy on your tongues and they begin to mix as his tongue slips its way into your mouth. He’s dominant yet soft with his actions and you find yourself becoming enthralled with them. 

When you two finally pull away you’re both breathless with rosy cheeks and giddy smiles on your face. There’s a silence between you, no one wants to be the first one to say anything. To bring you back to reality and ruin this moment, but Max is the first one to burst the bubble. “I hadn’t really planned on kissing you. I actually had a whole speech planned out, but guess this did the trick just as well.” 

“A speech?” You question. 

“Was gonna tell you that I may have had a crush on you since we were kids in karting and how I thought it was just a childhood crush for the longest time, but then we became so close ever since you joined Red Bull and I realized that I’ve always been enamored by you. We just get each other and being around you is so easy. You’re my person Y/N.” 

You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say you didn’t have a crush on Max when you were kids too or that you’d perhaps sometimes in the middle of the night when your mind wandered thought that there may be something a little more between Max and you than what you let on. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as they arrived. You didn’t allow yourself to be distracted with silly crushes when you were racing let alone now when this new dream was at your fingertips. But the fact was that it wasn’t just a silly little crush. Max is just as much your person as you are his. He’s your biggest supporter and embarrassingly the person you think about the most. And perhaps you do find yourself staring at his pretty blue eyes or the way his eyes scrunch up when he’s really happy or laughing hard. The way his lisp becomes more prominent when he gets excited or how you love to hear him “maxplain”. 

So perhaps you were more down bad than you had let yourself believe, but it was no use dwelling on it. You were colleagues and soon you would be his race engineer. This was just a drunk mistake and Max was only caught up in the moment– at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. This couldn’t happen right now and you know you know you shouldn’t have kissed him back, but god kissing resembled the same feeling of when you overtake on the track. That adrenaline rush that starts in your stomach and travels up to your chest. It’s addicting and as he stands there in front of you, those swollen pink lips of his keep shutting down everything in you that tells you to not let this go any further. 

Max gently reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as he tries to figure out how you feel. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same, but I mean after that kiss… there’s got to be something.” The sly smirk on his face only has you rolling your eyes at him, but he knows from the small smile your donning that the eye roll was nothing of significance. “I just had to tell you. It’d been eating at me.” 

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across the top. You practically melt into his touch and as your eyes flutter shut a deep sigh escapes past your lips. You know this can’t continue, you know you’ve got to be the one to set the boundaries, but god damn if this wasn’t something like a dream. 

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel the same because I do. Perhaps even more than you at times, but this was absolutely the worst time for you to do this. Before you know it the season is going to start and I’m going to officially be your race engineer. We can’t mix pleasure with business.” 

He knows what you’re saying is true, but to hear you say you feel the same as him has him willing to risk it all. “I know I should have told you sooner, but I think we could make it work.” 

“Max.” You’re trying to get him to think rationally for just a second. 

“We don’t have to put a label on anything and no one will know until we are ready. We will just take it slow. Nothing would have to change between us or the people around us. Work will always come first.” 

His hands move down towards yours and your fingers intertwine as you try to make sense of all the things flying around in your brain. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before like you do Max. You’d been burying it, trying not to let it get in the way of your job, but it had been there subconsciously the whole time. Now that you’ve come to terms with it and found out he feels the same, how the hell were you two going to move forward with this?

“Things will change Max, even if you say they won’t we both know they will. We’ll have to be careful about how we interact and sneak around. This isn’t some little make believe play time kind of thing. This is real life Max.” You squeeze his hand as you speak, trying to convey just how serious you’re taking this and how he should be too. “I also have a lot more at stake than you do Max. I’ve gone through hell and back to get where I am today, I don’t want it all ruined in the blink of an eye.” 

Max so badly wants to make this work. He understands your apprehension regardless of how strong your feelings are for him, but he thinks you guys should at least give it a try. 

“I understand what you’re saying. I also think what we’ve got here is pretty special. It would be a shame to not pursue it.” 

Your brain is telling you to choose your career and your heart is telling you to choose both your career and Max. Everything could work out fine and he could be the guy you end up marrying and living happily ever after with or it could all blow up in your face and you could lose your career and your man. But if you would have never taken the risk of becoming a reserve for Red Bull then you wouldn’t be here in this position. So you take the risk and decide to go with your heart. 

“Alright let’s see how this plays out Verstappen.” 

His eyes light up at your words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

And for the third time that night you feel his soft lips pressed against yours. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The 2024 season starts out with a bang. Max puts it on pole in quali and wins in Bahrain and the same thing happens in Saudi Arabia. You’d been practically shitting yourself in the weeks leading up to the start of the season. There was an insane amount of pressure from the public and media for you to do well, but also an insane amount that you had put on yourself. You wanted to prove to people that you were good at your job, that you deserved to be there. So when the first two weekends went smoothly and your communication went well with Max you couldn’t have been happier.

Not to mention how well it was going with Max. You two had been nothing but careful when it came to your radio messages, but also your behavior in the garage. The fleeting glances or smiles thrown your way only mean that much more considering you two are the only ones who know their true intent. And the evenings spent in each other's hotel rooms are like your own personal getaway. It’s just you two once that door is closed behind you and it makes the kisses even sweeter. 

Although the following week in Australia you weren’t expecting to be dealing with a hiccup so soon, but that’s the world of Formula 1 for you. It started off normal, Max took pole in qualifying and the race started great. Everything is normal on the pitwall and then you see Carlos overtake Max on lap two. It of course is not what you want to see, but it was only the second lap and you weren’t that stressed at the moment, but then you hear the dial of Max’s radio.

“I just lost the car. Really weird.” Max’s voice fills your ears through your headset. 

“Yeah no problem Max. Still early.” 

You watch the data closely as the race continues and you can see his time dropping ever so slowly.

“Fuck. The car is loose.” 

“I know. Try and hold on, we are working on it.” 

His time keeps dropping and you're combing through everything trying to figure out what could be going on. As you glance at the monitor with the race coverage you notice smoke coming from the back of the car and not a second later his voice comes through your headset once more. 

“I have smoke. Fire fire. Brake my brake.” 

“Copy. Try and make it back to the pits.” 

Fuck. This could not be good. You’re first real issue as an official engineer and it’s only the third race of the season. You turn in your chair as you see him rolling down the pit lane, his rear brake on fire. Your stomach drops and you know it's a DNF for him. Thankfully it wasn’t a crash, you think you would have been going to the medics with him if that was the case. 

Your headset is off and you’re making your way across the pit lane as soon as you see him get out of the car. You’re nervous considering this is the first race issue you’ve dealt with while being “together” or whatever you two are calling it and you aren’t sure how Max is going to handle it. 

He’s in the garage taking off his balaclava as you walk up to him and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, but you know you can’t do that. There’s clearly signs of disappointment on his face, but he’s trying to keep a poker face when he spots you. “You alright?” You question as you lean against the counter. 

“I’m fine. Car isn’t though.” He’s short with you and you probably should have let him decompress on his own before coming over here, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve seen him in a less than cheerful mood, but it’s the first time since coming to terms with how you felt about each other and you being his engineer.

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

He shrugs his shoulders at you, his hand running through his dirty blonde hair. “Wasn’t your fault.” 

You feel like it is though. “Are we good?” You ask with a low voice. 

Max could barely hear you with the sound of the mechanics and when he sees them moving the car into the garage he grabs you by the elbow and leads you towards the back of the garage towards the paddock entrance hallway. It luckily was empty for the moment, the garage too busy dealing with the car. 

“Why would we not be good?” He lowers his voice too. 

It’s your turn to shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just that it was the first issue of the season and I wanted to make sure you weren’t upset with me or something.” 

“Schatje.” The term of endearment always has butterflies fluttering about in your stomach, no matter how many times you hear it. “It was not your fault. It was a mechanical issue.” 

He can see the worry across your face and he knows the amount of stress you’ve been feeling about everything. The last thing you need is to be worried about how your relationship is going. He quickly checks both directions and when he sees the coast is clear he pulls you into his arms. It’s what you both needed after the shit show that was this race and even if it was brief his actions told you everything you needed to know. “We’ll talk more tonight, yeah?” 

You simply nod at him, both of you knowing you have to go back to your respective roles in the team before someone comes around the corner. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before disappearing behind the corner and back into the garage. You lean your head against the wall as you let out a deep sigh. There was something in you that had a feeling that this season wasn’t going to be an easy one. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Japan and China have you guys back to regularly scheduled programming and then Miami comes and turns everything upside down. When Max wins by the skin of his teeth in Imola the following race week you know something is not right with the car, but you can’t seem to pinpoint it. You know Max and you know he’s driving the car to its full ability and he somehow manages to secure the win in Canada and Spain, but not without being vocal about how shit the car is over the radio, to which you can only reply copy that Max.

It’s clear to you and probably everyone else that this season is not looking to be a dominant Red Bull season and it makes your stomach churn to think about the headlines about you. There’s not a doubt in your mind that everything will be blamed on you, especially after the horrible weekend that is the Austrian Grand Prix. 

It doesn’t start out bad, Max puts it on pole in qualifying and he holds the lead throughout the majority of the race. It’s not until lap 48 that things start to fall apart. 

“I can’t hold this much longer.” Max’s voice sounds through your headphones. 

“A couple more laps Max.” 

“The tires are fucked.” 

You don’t want Lando to undercut Max and you know if you don’t time this pitstop right that it may very well cost Max the race. On lap 52 you call Max into the pits and McLaren pits Lando also. You need this pitstop to go well and of course — it doesn’t. A stubborn left rear wheel nut is what brings the gap between Max and Lando down to two seconds. 

There’s not a bone in your body that wants to relay that information to Max, but you’ve got to, it’s your job. 

“Gap to Lando is now two seconds Max.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I know, but you can hold him off.” 

As the time began to shrink between Max and Lando your confidence in Max holding him off was dwindling and you knew he wasn’t going to just let Lando pass him. He was going to hold Lando off for as long as he could and when the racing started to get sketchy you were sure you wouldn’t have any fingernails left by the time this race was over. 

“Keep it clean Max.” You tell him after a particularly close call. 

“Something is wrong with the car.” He replies. You can tell he’s got no grip, but he’s also trying to defend like his life depended on it. 

As the laps go by the two drivers seem to be getting more desperate as both of them are pushing track limits and each other. You know it’s not gonna end well and you can only do so much from the pitwall. It’s Max who makes the final decision out there regardless of what you say. 

It’s been a tiring back and forth game with them and when they finally make contact on lap 64 your stomach drops for the man you care for, but you shake your head as his engineer. Both of them have punctures and somehow Max is able to make it back to the pits and still finish fifth. It’s quiet on the pitwall and the cheers from the Mercedes team drown out anything that might have been said. You don’t know what to say to Max when you see him. As his engineer you know he was defending (rather recklessly in your opinion) but as his ‘girlfriend’ you want to slap him for being so reckless. 

You know it’s better to just let Max decompress on his own and at this point you somewhat need to also. He’s got media duties to deal with and you’ve got your own responsibilities. You don’t even bother in waiting around for him like you usually do after a race. Once your tasks are done you’re making your way back to the hotel and for the first time that weekend you actually go to your room. Nothing sounds better at the moment than a nice long hot shower and so you let the water help wash away the stress from this weekend. That is until you hear a rapid knock on the door as you’re wrapping yourself in the hotel branded fluffy white robe. You know exactly who it is, but considering you’re dressed in nothing but a robe– you check the peephole. To no surprise there on the other side stands a disheveled Max Verstappen. His hand runs through his hair obsessively and you can tell he’s not in the cheeriest of moods. You open the door and he wastes no time in coming in. 

“Why aren’t you in my room?” He immediately asks, his tone almost reads as offended that you were here instead of three rooms down. 

“A girl can’t use her hotel room?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

You sit down on the edge of the plush bed as Max remains standing. 

“I just wanted some alone time. To decompress after this weekend, specifically today. Figured you could use some too.” 

He’s standing in front of you now, his fingers lightly toying at the collar of your robe. “All I wanted to see when I came back to my room was my girl waiting for me.” His voice is soft and you can tell this weekend has taken a toll on him. He plays the tough guy act during racing, but at the end of the day he’s just a man who wants and needs love and comfort. And so without a second thought you're sneaking off to Max’s hotel room like a couple of teenagers trying to not get caught. 

The warm embrace of Max’s arms is one of the places you feel the most safe and tonight is no exception. Austria is clearly a weekend to forget, but you know the media will be dragging it out for weeks to come. “The only thing I’m gonna say about today is that you’re lucky all that happened was a puncture. As your engineer and girlfriend you put me through the fucking ringer today Verstappen.” 

He doesn’t even register you somewhat scolding him for his driving today, all he can seem to focus on his you referring to yourself as his girlfriend. Of course you’ve been nothing less to him in his mind, you were exclusively his and no other woman would compare. But with the somewhat tricky situation you’d found yourselves in you’d never really put a label on it and that was fine to him. In fact he’d been the one to suggest it in the beginning, mainly because he knew how nervous you were about exploring the relationship between you two. But to hear it nonchentaly come out of your mouth that you’re his girlfriend is perhaps the best thing he’s heard in a good while. 

“Girlfriend?” He questions, his tone somewhat teasing you. 

Your head leaves its home on his solid chest and moves to look up at him. You hadn’t even realized you’d referred to yourself as his girlfriend, but after six months of you two just going with the flow or whatever you wanted to call it. There was no doubt that you two were exclusively one anothers. 

“I mean– that’s what I am right?” You pray you haven’t just made a fool of yourself, but you know he feels the same. 

His hand cups your cheek and he looks at you like you’re the most breathtaking thing on the planet. You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach and just by the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same. 

“Yes, but only if I’m your boyfriend.” His voice is sweet like honey and the butterflies are about ready to escape your stomach at this point.

“We sound like two 13 year olds right now.” 

Your laughter is like music to Max’s ears and he can’t ignore the swelling feeling in his chest. It’s terrifying, but thrilling at the same time and it’s a feeling that he’s sure he never wants to be without. 

“Well ok then I need to know if we are actually boyfriend and girlfriend.” Giggles fill the hotel room and you would have thought you two had been drinking with how ridiculous you two were acting, but you were really just lovesick fools. 

As the laughter dies down you can sense a shift in the atmosphere as you two lay there and stare at each other for a moment. In what seems like no time at all your leg swings over his waist and a second later you’re straddling him. His hands instinctively move to your hips and your hands lay flat on his chest as you lean forward. “I think it’s safe to say that you’re mine huh? My boyfriend?” 

Your lips hover just above his as you whisper to him and you can see his pupils dilating and feel the grip on your hips getting tighter. 

“I like hearing that.” He whispers back, his lips jutting out to connect with yours, but the tease in you has you pulling back ever so slightly. 

“Hearing what?” A playful smirk adorns your face as you sit up with your hands still splayed across his chest. 

He sits up too, but it’s clear you’ve ignited a fire in him. His hands snake around your waist as he holds you close to his chest. Your hands now resting on his shoulders. “That I’m yours.” 

And in one swift motion he’s flipped you onto your back as his large biceps bulge while he hovers over you. His head leans down towards your ear and his breath tickles your neck. It’s like every nerve in your body is heightened and you’re aware of every single thing he does to you and himself. “And that you’re mine.” 

A shiver runs up your spine as he whispers into your ear and by the look in his eyes you know it’s going to be a long night. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To say you were looking forward to summer break was an understatement. The mere idea of having a month off was the only thing that got you through those last three races. Silverstone wasn’t horrible, but Hungary and Belgium were nothing to write home about. The team had figured out that the upgrades that were brought to the car weren’t working correctly, but now it was trying to figure out why they aren’t working and how to correct them. But even with potentially corrected upgrades it still seemed like the car would be a pace behind McLaren or Ferrari. You’d been stressing trying to work on a new strategy with Max and trying to figure out how to make the car faster with basically nothing to work with. Not to mention the headlines that had your head on a spike claiming “Red Bull’s downfall” was because of you. It was truly tiring and so when the checkered flag waved in Belgium you were one happy girl. 

It’s not everyday that you get to send a week on a private island with your boyfriend, yet here you were. When Max had mentioned something about getting away during summer break you had figured Saint Tropez or Bali or really any typical F1 driver vacation spot. You had also figured you’d be spending some time apart considering it would be a little weird to be spotted on vacation together. The last thing you wanted was for rumors to start flying around, but Max surprised you with the unexpected. 

When Max told you this was a private island you figured there’d be maybe a handful of other people, but it was literally just you two and the staff for the villa. It’s truly paradise on Earth and you have to pinch yourself sometimes to see if you’re dreaming. Days spent on the beach and in the ocean. Nights spent tangled inbetween the sheets and mornings spent waking up to the gentle lull of waves crashing onto the sand and alright sometimes it is spent tangled in the sheets. Decadent food at the snap of a finger and the feeling of the sun on your skin everyday. It’s just what you needed, what you both needed to help you recharge for the second half of the season. 

On one of your last nights on the island Max and you find yourselves cuddled up on one of the giant loungers outside. The ocean had calmed for the night and the moon’s light cascaded over the water and onto you two. For once Max had sought out comfort in your arms and you thought you had put him to sleep from running your fingers through his hair until he spoke up. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other.” 

Your movements stilled, you weren’t expecting him to say that. Sure Max is a lot more loving than people would expect, but he isn’t one to be overly sappy. “Me too.” There’s a beat in the conversation and your hand finds its way back to his hair. “I don’t think as kids we saw our lives ending up like this though did we?” 

“Career wise or us being together?” Max questions. 

“Both I guess or at least it was that way for me.” You can feel Max slip his hand under your shirt and his finger start to mindlessly trace patterns on your abdomen. “If you would have told the girl who hated your guts for a while after you left me behind in F2 that I would be on a romantic getaway with you years later, I would have laughed in your face.” You can sense the shit eating grin on Max’s face. “I also fully believed that I was going to be a Formula 1 driver. There was nothing that you could have told me back then that would have changed my mind. Hell even five years ago I was still holding out hope. Guess I should have known better.” You’d turned the conversation in a different direction, but it was Max and he was the one person who you could have these kinds of talks with in confidence.

Max knows this is still a very sore subject for you and how could it not be? He couldn’t imagine having gone through all the shit you have just to be denied over who you were. He may have had his fair share of shit to go through as a child and some other things, but in the end he got to achieve his dream and no one denied him of it because of who he was. He knew you had to look at him with envy more times than not and he wished he could only go back in time and somehow by the grace of the racing gods get you a seat. “There’s no such thing as “knowing better” you had a dream and the talent to back it up. There was no reason you shouldn’t have been able to achieve it schatje. Life is just one cruel fucker sometimes.” 

“But I guess without that happening we probably wouldn’t have ended up together then?” You try to change the subject to something less depressing than your failed racing career. 

“Everything happens for a reason.” Max states. 

You nod in agreement, it’s something you’d told yourself quite often to try and cope with your dreams getting crushed. 

“I do love my job now and however shit my luck may be it can’t be that bad. I still get to enjoy racing and I’ve managed to acquire you in the process.” 

Max lets out a small laugh at your statement. “Didn’t know I was some prize to be sought after.” 

“You were like an added bonus that came with the job.” 

Max playfully scoffs and after a few moments of silence he changes the subject.

“Maybe we should just stay here for the rest of the season.” He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been dreading for summer break to end and to go back to driving a car that wants to disagree with everything he does.  

“It would be nice, but we have a championship to win.” 

Max looks up at you and even with the moon as your only light source those baby blues of his still sparkled. “You really think we still have a shot at it?” 

You know this season has been weighing him and the whole team down and as much as you’ve been stressed you still have faith that you guys can pull off the WDC. ‘I’m gonna tell you something my Dad used to tell me. Whenever I had a difficult race or was upset or even when I was getting rejected for an F1 seat he’d always tell me ‘it’ll pass’. You may be feeling like shit right now or hopeless, but after some time things get better and eventually that feeling of despair will pass. This rough patch we are in right now– it’ll pass Max. You’re gonna win again, especially if I have anything to do with it.” 

The overwhelming desire he has to tell you he loves you right now is something he can’t ignore. He’s never had someone in his corner like this before. Had someone that he cared about so deeply and loved be so involved in securing his success, but also reassuring him and instilling confidence back in him. It’s something you were good at as kids too, he couldn’t recall how many times he’d snuck off and hung out with you and your family during your karting years. If he hadn’t had a particularly good race he always knew you’d be there for him no matter what others in his life said or did.

But as much as he’s confident in his true feelings about you and the fact that he really hadn’t felt this way about anyone before, he decides to keep it to himself for the time being. If you by some chance don’t feel the same he doesn’t want to ruin this nice moment or vacation by blabbing his mouth about how he feels. So for now him pressing his lips against yours and the feeling of your hands on him will have to suffice instead of ‘i love you’. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first race back after summer break is Max’s home race and you both want nothing more than for him to win this one. The usual cool and collected Max has some nerves to him this weekend. You’d been nothing but reassuring and supportive this weekend because you truly think with the little tweaks the team had made to the car and some new strategy techniques that you may have this weekend in the bag, but Max can’t seem to shake the doubt in his mind. He’s of course thrilled to be racing at his home race, but the fact that he hasn’t been winning and that his family is going to be here has his mind working on overdrive. The little boy who hated to be a disappointment is still inside of him no matter the size of the nonchalant facade he tries to put on. 

When Max qualifies P2 you know he’s going to be upset, but you know you guys can work with P2. You two go over the best possible strategy techniques Saturday night and come Sunday morning you’re both feeling good about the race. 

“Alright Max twenty seconds until the formation lap. Be smart and safe.”

Your voice travels through the headset and Max smiles at the last part. It had become a habit of yours to always tell him to be smart and safe over the radio. It’s your way of telling him you care and perhaps subconsciously that you love him and he wants to tell you he loves you back every time, but he knows everyone can hear what is being said, so he settles for the old stand by. 

“Copy.” 

When the lights go out you don’t realize you haven’t taken a breath until Max overtakes Lando on the first turn and you’re breathing out a giant sigh of relief. This is what you guys needed and now all Max needed to do was get some distance between him and Lando and pray for it to be a boring race and he’d be taking that top step. 

“Beautiful Max.”

You know the reassurance over the radio will have him smiling like a fool under his helmet. 

It doesn’t take long though for your confidence about the race to start to diminish. Lando wastes no time in trying to gain his position back and you can tell Max can’t hold him off much longer. He eventually overtakes him and the gap that Lando starts to create is making your stomach turn. You knew if Lando got out in front and into the clean air it would be game over and that’s exactly what happens. With only ten laps left you don’t even want to tell Max how big the gap has gotten, but from his radio silence and him not outright asking, you figure he already knows. 

22 seconds. 

That’s the gap between Lando and Max when the checkered flag waves. Your stomach is in knots as you take off your headset and make your way towards the crowd already forming for the podium celebration. Max still ended up with P2, but to be beaten with a 22 second gap at your home race has got to be killing him. You watch him from below and you can tell his mind is going a mile a minute, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the disappointment from losing the race is written all over him. 

After the podium celebration and the team debrief and every other responsibility that you have on a race weekend, you finally find yourself back at the hotel. Usually you’d be flying back home on his private jet, especially on a weekend like this, but Max opted to fly out first thing in the morning. So while Max finished up the last of his responsibilities you opted to torture yourself some more and go over countless amounts of data from this weekend.

Technically this isn’t even your main job, but if you can somehow figure out what the hell is wrong with this car then you’ll take on whatever job you have to. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been sat at this small hotel room desk, papers scattered everywhere as you hunch over your laptop. The sound of the door opening and closing doesn’t register in your mind and it’s not until you feel two strong hands on your shoulders that you are brought back from the world of tire degradation and sector times. 

“Baby, come on, let's go to bed. We can’t solve this in one night.” His fingers work slowly into your tense muscles and a sigh of relief comes from you as you lean back in the chair, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to work his magic. 

And as good as this feels, your brain wants to talk about the elephant in the room. “So we are gonna pretend like you didn’t get beat with a 22 second gap at your home race?“ His movements halt and you realize you probably could have worded that better. 

“Well I’d actually like to forget about it if that’s alright.” He moves away from you and chooses to sit down on the edge of the bed. His body language is nothing shy of defeated and you could kick yourself for how you spoke. 

“That’s not what I meant to say. It came out wrong. I was just trying to say that I’m trying to figure this out so it doesn’t happen again. We can act like it didn’t happen but it did and there’s clearly a reason here in this data.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you blankly. 

“I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to be hearing, but I’m trying to get you a winning car again Max. I mean this is my first year as your actual engineer and I feel like I’m gonna lose my job if you aren’t winning races. The car is shit and we can’t seem to figure out a good strategy to work with the shit car. I don’t know what the fuck happened from last year to this year but I’m losing my fucking mind. People already think I shouldn’t be here and by not cranking out wins I’m just giving them more ammunition to use against me.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d started crying until you feel Max’s thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Fuck I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on some rant and have a breakdown.” 

You bury your head into his chest as his arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his strong warm embrace. “It’s fine. It’s good to let it out.” One of his hands moves to gently stroke your hair and when you finally pull your head back to look at him, he’s pressing a kiss to your forehead and it tells you everything you need to know. 

“I know we’ve both been under stress, but I didn’t know it was this bad baby. I wish you would have talked to me sooner before it resulted in this.” 

You shrug your shoulders at him. “Didn’t want to be a burden.” 

“You’re never a burden to me. We are a team, remember? Regardless of actually working for the same team, at the end of the day it’s still you and me. Don’t ever feel like you have to bottle things up because you’re worried it will stress me out. We’re in this crazy ass world together yeah?” 

A sniffle comes from you, but your tears had subsided. You find yourself just staring at him, getting lost in those ocean blue eyes and you know you’re so eternally grateful to have a guy like Max in your life. If only the world could see just how compassionate and loving he actually was. 

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Probably be miserable.” 

And there was the smart ass Max that you knew all too well. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The season was coming to an end in a little over a month and you and Max and the whole team had been working overtime in trying to get the cars back up to the normal Red Bull standard that everyone had come to know. Max hadn’t won a race since Spain in June and with only four races left in the season the media had been in a whirlwind over a possible title fight between Max and Lando. You tried not to pay it much mind, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Max wouldn’t win his fourth championship this season. Even with a less dominant car he still went out there and gave it everything and his talent truly showed this season, to see him pulling that car up to podium level multiple times told everyone what they needed to know 

Brazil was this weekend and it’s always a fun race in your opinion. Rain is always expected at least once throughout the weekend and the teams prepare for it, but this weekend it seemed that mother nature didn’t want this race to happen. Qualifying had gotten moved to Sunday morning which made things a little more complicated. If Max wrecked it didn’t give the mechanics much time at all to make any repairs. To make things even worse he was already starting with a five place grid penalty due to power unit change, so he had to make the most of this qualifying. 

The garage is alive preparing to send the cars out for qualifying, but you can see how wet the track is and you can’t lie– you’re nervous. Usually you’d be on the pitwall by now, but you’re lingering in the garage waiting for Max. When he sees you he’s surprised and when you pull him to a somewhat less busy spot of the garage he’s worried that something is wrong. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

“Yes. Just wanted to tell you in person to be safe. It looks nasty out there.” 

A smile creeps its way onto his face and before he can tease you about being a softie his head mechanic comes up asking him a question. You take that as a sign to get your ass over to the pitwall before anyone overhears anything else. With your headset on and your nerves at bay for the moment you turn around in your chair to see Max getting into his car. 

“Alright. Green light at the end of the pitlane. Be smart and safe Verstappen.” 

“Always am.” 

You roll your eyes at him and prepare yourself for what could be an interesting qualifying session. When the first cars go out you know there’s going to be multiple crashes, you can just tell. Luckily Max makes it to Q2, but that's where everything goes wrong. A late called yellow flag has Max qualifying P12 which is actually P17 and you know when you hear the static in your headset that what comes out of his mouth is not going to be pretty. 

“What the fuck? Why did they wait that long to pull out the flag? Should have been red to begin with, he went into the wall!” 

“I know Max. We will discuss it later.”

You’re trying to not let himself get more community service, so the less he talks on the radio the better. 

Max is raging as soon as he exits the cockpit of his car and you can tell from the pitwall that he has a bone to pick, but the race is in a few short hours and you have work to do. He can rant all he wants later, but you’re on a mission to somehow get him to win this race all the way from the back of the grid. He doesn’t come and find you for some time, but when he does you two don’t even mention the drama from qualifying. He’s clearly cooled down and you two know it’s now time to lock in and make this strategy work. You two go over three possible strategy plans, but you can tell from the fire in his eyes that he’s planning on pulling out a little bit of Mad Max today. 

There’s maybe a half an hour until lights out and you take that time to go and find your parents who had been invited to attend the race this weekend. You like to think their very cool race engineer daughter is the reason they are here, but unfortunately you are a nepo baby and your Dad was invited because of who he was. Unsurprisingly you find Max and your parents chatting in the garage, Red Bull lanyards hanging from their necks. They greet you with a hug and kiss and Max and your Dad continue to talk while your Mom and you head out into the paddock. 

“How’s the engineer life been treating my baby?” She asks as you two stroll down the paddock. 

“I can’t lie, it's been stressful, but I love it. Helps that I’ve got such a good driver to work with though.” 

“It’s nice to see you two reconnect.” There’s an inflection in her voice and you know there was a totally different meaning behind her words. 

“What is it Mom?” You groan. 

“Nothing. All I said it was nice to see you two reconnect. You two were close as kids and I’m not surprised that you found your way back to each other.” 

You stop in your tracks, turning to face her. “Mom.” 

“It’s truly nothing. It’s just a little bit of Mother’s intuition.” You stare blankly at her– waiting for her to continue. “I’ve heard how you talk to him over the radio, how you two look at each other in pictures, and I’ve witnessed firsthand how you two have acted today. You’re in love with him aren’t you?” Your heart starts to race and you don’t know what to tell her, of course your Mom would know this. She links her arm with yours and you two head back towards the Red Bull garage.

As you two walk through the entrance you find your Dad and Max still talking. Your Mom lowers her voice as she speaks to you. “Your silence tells me that I’m correct.” When Max spots you his whole face lights up and he’s waving for you to come join him and your Dad. “And I’d say it’s pretty safe to say he’s in love with you too.” She whispers to you before heading towards the two men.

You’re dumbfounded as you stand there in the middle of the busy garage, but the sweet sound of a familiar Dutch accent hollering for you has your legs moving before your brain catches up. 

In what seems like no time at all you’re back on the pitwall and the cars are lined up on the grid. After a mess of a formation lap the five lights finally go out and the race is underway. Max wastes no time in making his way through the field and you’re crossing your fingers that this rain on the radar goes around the track, but as the first few droplets fall you know this is about to get interesting. 

Max had made it up to second thanks to a combination of VSCs, other teams pit stops, and then by the grace of the racing gods a red flag. Which gave you guys a free pitstop and allowed for him to hold his P2 position. Things were looking up, but when the red flag lifted it seemed like the rain was only getting heavier. You knew at this point that this was the ultimate test of trust between Max and you. He was blindly following your orders and praying that what you were telling him wasn’t going to have him end up in the wall like so many others. 

“No red flag? This is getting dangerous, even for me.” 

“No red flag.” 

“What the hell?”

“I know. Anything can happen out there. Please be careful.” 

Your fingernails are non-existent at this point and you’re sure you’ve aged ten years from this race alone, but eventually Max overtakes Esteban and after more safety cars and yellow flags it’s down to the last lap. Max has got this and you can feel the happy tears starting to well up in your eyes. And when that checkered flag waves and he’s the first person to see it the whole pitwall and garage erupts into cheers. You would have thought he’d won the championship the way everyone was acting, but he was just reclaiming his spot at the top.

You can’t make your way over to the barricade fast enough and to see the pure joy on his face as he climbs out of the car makes your heart swell with happiness. It had been a long time coming this season and of course his first win in what seemed like forever was one hell of a drive. He comes running over to the team and when he spots you you’re the first person he’s hugging and practically pulling over the barricade. You can feel the happiness radiating off of him and you know that after this that he’s got the championship in the bag. 

The podium celebration was one for the books and to see him radiating up there and smiling down at you had you forgetting that you’re keeping this relationship a secret. But the one thing you know you won’t forget is how in love you felt and what you don’t realize is how bad it’s going to hurt. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The two week break before the triple header that ends the season has you spending some time at headquarters. It's just the usual end of the season stuff, but when an email pops up from HR wanting to schedule a meeting you’re a little concerned. You don’t mention anything to Max, figuring it’s just maybe something silly, but when you walk into the HR office you can sense that it’s not something small. 

“Y/N, so glad you could work this meeting into your schedule. I know you’re a busy woman so I appreciate it.” 

You sit down in one of the plush chairs in front of her desk and you try to calm yourself, if it was something so bad then why would she be so cheery towards you. “Of course. What did you need to discuss with me?” God, could you sound any more robotic? 

Her cheery demeanor turns more serious and when she clasps her hands together on her desk you know this is the moment that someone has found out about you and Max and you’re about to be canned.

“I don’t know how to really go about this, but I’m just going to come right out and say it. There was someone who got into contact with us and claimed to have pictures of you and Max engaging in less than professional activities after his win in Brazil.” 

You’re stunned for a moment and don’t know what to say, you’d been mentally preparing yourself for this moment, yet when you actually hear it you realize you didn’t actually believe that this was the reason you were being called in. You two had been so careful about maintaining professional boundaries while at work and out in public, but apparently not that weekend. 

“I can assure you that’s not the case with Max and I. Did they actually have the photos to back up their claims or is this all just hearsay?” You weren’t going to immediately give it up in case this was a test, but when she pulls out an envelope and slides it across the desk, you know it’s over. 

The envelope though it weighs virtually nothing – feels like the heaviest thing in the world.

When you finally work up the courage to open it you feel like you’re going to throw up. Your palms are sweaty, mouth is watering, and you feel light headed. There in your hands is the thing that is going to ruin your career– pictures of you and Max kissing outside his hotel room in Sao Paulo. How could you two have been so dumb? You aren’t sure if you want to cry or scream or throw up. 

“There’s no denying that it’s you in those photos, but I’m here to give you your options.” 

“Options?” Your eyes are still locked to the photos that are still being held in your shaky hand. 

“Listen. I admire what you’ve accomplished as a woman in a fully male dominated sport. I also know what happens to women who let things like this go public. Their hard work is diminished to becoming their partner's significant other or your hard work could only have been accomplished by selling your body in exchange for promotions. Luckily, I was the one who saw that email and I squashed it early enough to where we won’t have a scandal on our hands, but I need something from you in exchange.” 

You’re like a deer caught in headlights and there's so many things going through your brain that you can’t even communicate with her. 

“I get that this is overwhelming and the last thing you wanted to happen, but right now it’s only you, Max, and me that know about your relationship at Red Bull and we want it to stay that way. I also know that you’ve gotten offers from McLaren and Ferrari to work for them next year and you’ve ignored them.” How did she know about that? You hadn’t told a soul, not even your parents. You’d been mulling over it for some time. You didn’t want to leave Max and you had made a home at Red Bull, but McLaren especially had been so adamant about getting you to join the team. Your contract with Red Bull was only for a year, but you figured they’d resign you, now it doesn’t seem that way. “So, you’re only real option here if you want to continue to make a name for yourself in this world is to break things off with Max and accept one of those offers.” 

Your eyes snap up towards hers and you can feel your heart about ready to beat out of your chest. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but my higher ups will not want to deal with this scandal if you two continue to be careless. There will be no workplace romance, you will be gone and your hardwork will be for nothing. I followed your journey Y/N, you deserve to be out there racing with all of them, but life gave you lemons and you somehow made some damn good lemonade. Now don’t let them drink your lemonade.” 

She takes the photos and the envelope out of your hands and you hear her put them through the paper shredder. You feel like you’re frozen in time, like how you felt back in that meeting at Williams all those years ago. “I’m sure it’s nothing too serious between you two anyways. So this shouldn’t be a hard decision.” 

You’re brought back to reality and the words are slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “It’s not serious.” 

Yes it is. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The following days leading up to Vegas are a blur, you try to drown yourself in your work and Max can’t seem to leave you alone. It’s not that you don’t want to see him, it’s just that you’re waging a war in your mind right now and he’s at the root of it. 

You try to ignore the impending doom hanging over your head and actually enjoy this weekend. If Max finishes one place ahead of Lando this weekend he’s going to be a four time World’s Driver Champion. It’s the thing you guys have worked towards the whole season and to see it finally come together might be one of the highlights of your career. Vegas as always is a spectacle, the lights, the parties, the celebrities. It’s nothing like any of the European races or really any other race if you were being honest. 

When the sun sets and the track lights come on your mind only focuses on the task at hand and not the ultimate ultimatum you’ve been given. Qualifying goes somewhat to plan, Max didn’t manage to get pole but he does qualify ahead of Lando, which puts him in a great spot for tomorrow. He’s buzzing once he gets out of the car and when he finds you he can tell there’s something slightly off with you. Your energy isn’t necessarily what it usually is, but he figures maybe you’re cold and tired, so he doesn’t press the matter. 

You try to follow the script the following night, but the longer this thing festers in your brain the more you can’t keep on your poker face. 

“Twenty seconds till formation lap. Be smart and safe.” 

“Copy.” 

The race thankfully is pretty unremarkable. The main goal tonight was to just beat Lando, if you managed to score a win also that would be great, but the Championship was what you were going after tonight. 

And that’s just what Max does. 

The roars from the crowd and the team as Max crosses the finish line before Lando are deafening and you can feel the mixture of happy and sad tears streaming down your face. 

“Max! You’re a four time champion!” 

It’s nothing but pure glee back from him across the radio and you can’t help but laugh at the simply lovely through the tears. You managed to pull yourself together and accept the congrats from the rest of the pitwall and make your way through the crowd to see if you can find Max, but he’s already trying to find you. The crowd makes space for you to get to the barricade and when Max spots you there’s nothing but love in his eyes and it absolutely kills you. He pulls you up over the barricade and envelopes you in the most bone crushing hug you’ve ever experienced. There’s millions of cameras around so you have to be careful, but you savor the moment for as long as you can. “We did it!” Max exclaims and you can see the happy tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. 

“We did! I told you it was gonna happen, didn't I?” 

Seconds later you two get into a Rolls Royce with a cameraman that takes you along the track. You look over at him and he’s radiating with happiness and the ache in your chest only seems to grow. “I’m so proud of you Max.” That smile that you love so dearly beams back at you and you want to reach out and caress his cheek, but you know you can’t.  

“I couldn’t have done this without you. This championship is as much yours as it is mine. I hope you know that.” He goes to reach for your hand, but then remembers the cameraman and quickly snatches it away. Silence fills the luxurious car and you know Max is trying to take in being a four time back to back champion, while you’re coming to terms with the fact that not too long from now you’re going to not only break the man you love’s heart, but your own. 

That little girl with a dream is still inside of you, she’s with you every race weekend. You love Max more than you should, but you know if you continue on with this you’ll be the one losing your job and not him. It’s not fair, but you learned that life isn’t fair early on and you’ll be damned if you allow yourself to lose something else that you worked so hard to achieve. So if that means losing Max and moving teams then you guess that's how it has to be. Your Dad’s words replay in your head ‘it’ll pass’ and you know that nothing ever truly passes and that all you do is learn to live with it. The ache gets weaker over time, but it never truly goes away.

Even though you found a new dream to pursue you still have moments of truly missing racing. Like when you see the pure excitement and joy on Max’s face when he wins a race or when you see the adrenaline radiating off of him when he gets out of the car, you can’t ignore that ache in your chest. You can’t help but sometimes still think that should be you and you know you shouldn’t feel like that about the man you love, but you’ve never been able to live through him. He’s told you so many times that his wins and now this championship are as much yours as they are his because without you he wouldn’t be able to win. But those words do nothing to heal the teenage girl who got her dreams shattered just because she was a girl. You want to be able to have your dream and keep the man you love, but the career you chose doesn’t allow for you to have both. So for that little girl that still lives inside of you, you choose your dream. 

You attend all the team celebrations and end up getting soaked in champagne more times than you can count and you try to savor every last moment you have with Max and that includes going out and celebrating and coming back to his hotel room and celebrating some more. You savor it all fully knowing this is the last time you’re going to make love to him and kiss him and be held by him. And when he finally decides to fully bare his heart to you as you lay in his arms that night, you stick your knife right through it. 

“I love you.” 

You don’t answer him for a moment and you know this is how it’s got to happen. The longer you wait the harder it’s going to be. 

“It’ll pass.” 

Max isn’t sure he heard you right and he’s choking on his own words trying to form a coherent sentence. “What are you talking about schatje?” 

The tears are already falling down your cheeks and you know there is no coming back from this. “Please don’t call me that.” 

Max removes you from his grasp and sits up in bed. “Why not?” 

“It makes this harder than it needs to be.” 

He’s more than confused at the moment. His heart is racing and you’re crying and he doesn’t understand what is going on. He just won his fourth championship and finally told the woman of his dreams that he loves her and she replies with it’ll pass? “Y/N what the hell is going on? I love you and I know you love me back. I see it in your eyes when you talk to me or when you look at me. I hear it when you tell me to be safe as I line up on the grid. Am I a fool or something? Have I been blind this whole time?” 

“I love you more than you could imagine.” 

“Then why are you sobbing and telling me it’ll pass and asking me to not call you schatje?” In the back of his mind he knows, but he doesn’t want to come to terms with it. 

You just want to pull him back into your arms and kiss him and take back everything you’ve said so far, but you can’t and you wish this wasn’t your reality at the moment. “We can’t be together anymore Max.” 

He furrows his eyebrows at you, he really can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “Are you being serious? Like are you being totally honest with me right now? Because we have something special here Y/N. I want to know why you’re throwing this away so easily.” 

You take a shaky deep breath and sit up next to him in the bed. “Someone got a picture of us kissing outside your hotel room in Brazil and Red Bull’s HR got wind of it. I got called in and she showed me the pictures. They squashed it before it got out, but Max, she basically told me that if we were to come out as a couple that I’d lose my job. I can’t afford to lose out another dream of mine Max. You don’t understand what it’s like.” 

He grabs your hand and the simple feeling of his skin on yours has more tears rolling down your cheeks. “Listen, I’d give away every championship every wi-” 

“You don’t mean that Max.” 

He’s up out of the bed at this point and you fear it’s only going to escalate from here.

“For fucks sake yes I do! I know we’ve made things a little complicated, but we can make it work. I mean I’m Max Ver-” 

“Exactly, you’re Max Verstappen. You won’t have to worry about losing your job over this. You’re F1’s golden boy, world famous Max Verstappen. It’ll be a little slap on the wrist for you, but for me in this boys club? It’ll be hell. I’ll be painted a whore, a girl whose only way to have gotten into this position was to have had sex with every guy I had to. You don’t know what it’s like to be one of the best drivers of your generation and not get to follow your childhood dreams simply because no one wants to take the chance on signing a female driver. I’ve had to give up one of my dreams and I’m not about to have to lose another one. So yes, I love you and it’s fucking killing me inside to do this, but sometimes we have to let go of the things we love. This horrible heart wrenching feel we are both experiencing will pass. I promise you. You deserve to be with someone who can give you their all.” 

He sits down at the end of the bed, your words finally sinking in and he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. Like he's gone into the wall at full speed. “I don’t want anyone else but you Y/N.” You crawl to the end of the bed and wrap your arms around him and it’s at that moment you realize he’s crying too and the last little bit of your heart that’s intact finally breaks. “I’m not gonna be able to convince you to stay am I?” 

You press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder. “No.” You whisper. “I’m probably always gonna love you Max, but this is how it has to be.” 

His hand reaches up and grabs yours and a shaky breath escapes from him before he speaks. “Guess you finally made me cry didn’t you?” 

FIA Gala 2025 

The black gown you’ve chosen to wear tonight is stunning, but you’ve still not grown accustomed to wearing them. And you haven’t grown to like these fancy Galas either, but you’ve got to go to it though. You’re being honored for being the first female engineer to win back to back WDCs with two different drivers on two different teams . Your season with McLaren this year was nothing shy of spectacular and people actually started to recognize your talent.

You’ve been nursing this glass of champagne for some time now, listening to the team talk about the season while all you can think about is taking this dress off later. They get called over to a different table to talk with some sponsors and you take the alone time to scroll through your phone. You’re just about ready to go and see if there’s anything here other than champagne when you hear him speak from behind you and that all too familiar ache blooms in your chest.

“Is this seat taken?” 

[shanieveh]

to all the boys i've loved before !

— genshin men receive your confession letter that you accidentally sent

he doesn't care (HE WON AT LIFE) - albedo, cyno, diluc, neuvillette, tighnari, xiao, scaramouche

His face, although one with his usual stoic expression was now screaming how God had blessed him and when you finally left, apologizing for the inconvenience and asking if he felt the same way. OF COURSE HE DID?! HE LOVES YOU MORE THAN ANY—

"Yeah sure you're okay I guess."

Nailed it. And as your flustered face starts to run away from him, he was now thinking what place will you guys settle in? When will he buy the engagement ring. You know, the expected. After all, there was no way he would give back the heart you gave him.

teases you to oblivion - childe, itto, kaeya, kazuha, lyney, pantalone, heizou, venti, xingqiu,

"Ho ho.... so you like LIKE me?"

He was hiding his red face underneath the words of teasing and fun. Yeah, he liked you back, but where's the thrill? A letter is just... well, a letter. He wanted to hear it from you, he wanted you to say it so many times for it felt like the blood to his heart. He needed this.

And although it may look like he was not taking your confession seriously, he does. Every word you said embedded in his head, and it's a crime for him to let you forget it. He plans to make you remember that silly letter you wrote at 1:43 AM for the rest of your life.

becomes a blushing mess - bennett, chongyun, freminet, gorou, thoma, capitano

When he read the whole thing, the happiness he felt turned to nervous immediately. What do you mean you liked him? Did the manifestations worked or something? Was he finally blessed with this beautiful angel after beng miserable for so long? YOU ACTUALLY LIKE HIM?

He wanted to party! No, but what if you decided to not like him anymore? After all he had many bad qualities. He was panting, frantically, the whole area heard it. YOU heard it. Will that make you like him less? Oh god... oh god... he was sure to admiring you from afar. But this?

"U...uhm I-I also feel the same way..." And with that he ran for his life.

thinks you guys are now married - alhaitham, ayato, baizhu, kaveh, zhongli, wriothesley

Oh so you like him? When's the wedding? He was now thinking of a designer for your wedding fits. After all, his partner deserves the very best. Do you want to be child free? Is there a need for him to make a planned parenthood account? What will your retirement plan be? Do you plan to be buried with him or separate? Thoughts like these raced through his mind.

The letter gripped by his hand, you were afraid to be rejected. And when you were about to speak and confront the silence he moved and folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Next time, it will definitely be a ring.

"See you at 5, sweetheart."

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

john green quit tumblr because of the cock monologue

No, he didn’t.

This all happened a long time ago, and my memory is imperfect, but here’s my memory: The cock monologue certainly hurt my feelings! But when people are trying to force someone out of a virtual space, they sometimes resort to behavior that is similar to bullying except it’s not completely identical to bullying because the person they’re making fun of has a lot of power. (As someone who got bullied a lot in school, the feeling was similar in 2014 but it wasn’t identical--because I was aware of the fact that I was okay, that what was in danger was certain aspects of my identity/self-value that I treasured but not my entire personhood itself.)

Anyway, it hurt my feelings, and still hurts my feelings when I see it shared (it feels to me like a joke about my sexuality, although I understand other people don’t see it that way; but yeah, you don’t know much about my sexuality and I don’t really want you to but it feels like a joke about that to me, which just bums me out). 

But all of that stuff is a side effect of my job and having been successful at it, and I like my job. It is a great job. All jobs have aspects that suck. My job has fewer such aspects than other jobs I’ve had.

So yeah, I did not quit tumblr because of the cock monologue. (I also did not ask tumblr to make reblogs un-editable.) .

I quit tumblr because a few people started to make extremely specific threats. One might, for instance, send me an ask that featured a google streetview screenshot of my home alongside a plan for breaking into it.

I was super scared of these people (or possible person pretending to be a few people?) because they seemed to have a lot of knowledge about me and my family. We lived in a normal middle-class neighborhood in Indianapolis and I felt very exposed and nervous all the time in my real life, and eventually the freaked-out feeling just got too big and that’s why I quit tumblr.

(Edited to add: I am aware that prominent people sometimes use death threats against them to portray themselves as victims and protect themselves against justified criticism for their bigotry or abusive behavior or whatever. I don’t want to do that; it’s important to note that I have a lot of resources and power and so was able to, for instance, move to decrease the threat, which a lot of people can’t do. But I also feel like not talking about the experience honestly has not really helped me or anyone.)

I SHOULD’VE quit tumblr much earlier--I needed to realize that people weren’t comfortable with me in their virtual spaces and that to them I came across as cringey or even creepy, but at the time, I wasn’t nearly self-aware enough to leave for any of those reasons, and plus there was a lot of pressure from movie studios etc to stay on the social Internet so I could continue to promote my books and the stuff around them. So I didn’t quit when I should’ve, and as a result had and caused quite a few negative experiences for people. I’m sorry about the role I had in causing those negative experiences. I should’ve had a better understanding of not just how I experienced myself but also how other people might experience me. That’s something i’ve worked on over the years but still come up short on sometimes.

At any rate, I might delete this later because it makes me feel a bit like all my nerves are exposed to the air but I did just want to clarify that the, like, Tumblr Legend of this whole thing is at minimum a bit over simplified. 

[loverslantern]

Chappell Roan at the VMAs was everything. People keep confusing her outfit with Joan of Arc but she was actually Julie D’aubigny, which is so much more impactful. Let me explain.

In simple terms she was very good at fencing and she even did opera singing. But what really connects her to what Chappell did is her love story. Julie was a queer woman, she often dressed in men’s clothing but did not attempt to come off as a man.

At some point she had a relationship with a woman, yes a romantic one. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, the girl was shipped off to a convent to prevent the two from being in contact. And to frame it simply Julie followed after her, snuck in pretending to be apart of the whole thing, created this whole elaborate plan to sneak her lover out which included getting a dead nuns body and placing it in the girls bed followed by burning the building down, therefore faking the girls death.

They ran away together. But, a couple months later the girl went back to her family. Julie’s plan was found out and she was charged as a man on a variety of crimes, she was sentenced to death by burning.

Now let’s put this all together.

1. Chappell was consistently using swords

2. In the performance she looked back and shot a flaming arrow at a building burning it down which goes back to the burning of the convent.

3. The song performed was Good Luck, Babe! And Julie’s lover going back to her family is so Good Luck, Babe! coded. Like literally ur lover followed you to a conversion thing, setting up this whole thing so that you can run away together and love freely and then you go back home to ur family and she dies at the stake. Although not surprising for the time period it’s still so crazy and soooo poetic.

4. Julie d'Aubigny has this whole tragic queer story and Chappells music centers around that sort of thing, and what’s more impactful than a literal gay performer dressing as a gay performer who was killed for being gay?

Do you guys see what I mean??? So, while I love the edits I’m seeing please keep in mind that it is not Joan of Arc. In fact, I think it’s super important that this is corrected considering how real and tragic Julie’s story was.

[theminecraftbee]

If Cleo hadn’t known Joe for longer than either of them have known Hermitcraft, she might be concerned about Joe having an argument with himself about which of his six contingency boltholes to hide the two of them in and discuss plans. She might be even more concerned about how blatantly questionable several of them are—she didn’t even know Etho had an attic, let alone one Joe knew how to break into and had hidden a bed in. However, Cleo’s known Joe since longer than either of them have known Hermitcraft, and frankly this is an impressively minimal amount of bafflingly designed anxiety-induced disaster prep for him, so she just lets him guide him into the room and sits cross-legged on the floor.

“No one ever remembers that the overworld smells different,” she says with a sigh.

“For example, here it smells like Etho’s socks,” Joe responds. “Why does he keep socks in the attic, Cleo? I still haven’t figured it out!”

Cleo snorts. “He’s a very strange little man.”

Joe shakes his head. “No, no, if he were a strange little man, I’d know. That’s what I am!”

“No, you’re a strange little puppet these days. Entirely different.”

“Oh, right.”

The two of them sit in silence for a bit after that. Cleo just breathes. They are supposed to be dead or exiled, and they are not. “Supposed to be dead but they’re not” is like, Cleo’s entire thing as a zombie, and Joe’s entire thing as a person, so that’s not what’s making Cleo’s heart race. Maybe Joe’s right; maybe it is the smell of socks. Maybe, though, it’s that the world is different colors. Everything isn’t the same awful grey and red, stretched out endlessly across the horizon.

A fuzzy puppet hand is placed on her own. Cleo looks down.

“Sorry I couldn’t talk to you the whole time. I was being hunted for sport,” Joe says.

“What? No, don’t answer that. Scar. That was obvious. Don’t know why I bothered asking.”

“Doc also kind of wanted to?” Joe says. “But as we both know, Doc’s really bad at making threats that are actually actionable. It’s sort of embarrassing. Cub, also, although Cub and I were mostly engaged in psychological warfare. It’s kind of a shame he exiled himself; who else has an appropriately complex relationship with fireworks and comic sans?”

Cleo snorts. “Never change, Joe.”

“I can’t promise that. To live is to change,” Joe says solemnly.

“Walked into that one,” Cleo says.

They both fall silent a little longer.

“The fact you called me at all, uh. Texted me. Kept me company. Fought a dragon? The drop shipping? I—”

“If my best friend goes mad from loneliness I’m not a very good friend,” Joe says.

“Still, thanks,” Cleo says. “Thank you. It was—thank you.”

“Anyone would have,” Joe says, and all at once Cleo is laughing and sobbing into their hands. Distantly, they can hear Joe panicking; he’s never been very good at other people’s emotions. It’s just—nothing, for days, and everything now, and the edges of their sleeves are still singed from Grian’s attempt to render it all pointless, and Joe’s right here, and Joe’s right here, saying:

“It’s alright, Cleo. I mean, it’s not, there’s an authoritarian government that isn’t letting me play Permitmaster. But it’s okay, for some definition of that, I think—”

“They really wouldn’t,” Cleo manages between choked breaths.

“What?” Joe says.

“You said it’s what anyone would do and they really wouldn’t,” Cleo says.

“…really?” Joe says, and he sounds so idiotically baffled and so exactly like Joe Hills, constant in Cleo’s life since before either of them knew what a Hermitcraft was, that she breaks down into sobs again. Distantly, she recognizes that this is a symptom of having ridden a horse across the nether roof for enough days in a row that her ability to emotionally regulate snapped a little. Immediately, though, she can’t stop thinking about how lucky she is.

Joe smiles, strangely kind for a puppet, and leans his entire felt body against her. He stops talking for the moment. Cleo knows it’s more that he’s probably panicking internally than out of any desire for silence, but…

She’s really, really lucky.

By some miracle stroke, they’re both left alone long enough for Cleo to pull herself together, and then, to the sound of distant fireworks and sirens, they escape Etho’s attic, laughing.

Together they really are going to be so annoyingly unstoppable.

[httpwintersoldier]

『 sweet little thing p.1 | b. barnes x reader 』

pairing: bucky barnes x afab!reader words: it's real long okay, it even has parts summary: what happens when the guy you have a crush on happens to have a dad, who is older, hotter and rougher? 『 part 1 』 『 part 2 』 『 part 3 』 『 part 4 』

fluff ; angst ; smut

When you saw Andy he was simply... phenomenal. His eyes were big and blue, and the way their corners creased when he smiled was simply too much to bear.

You made it a point to become close to him - you swore up and down that your classmate would fall in love with you if he spent just enough time around you.

So you pretended to be dumb, and, because Andy was one of the top students in the university, it was only logical to ask him for help and form a study group.

It was all going well and dandy - you two hung out together nearly every day, studied and partied, and eventually went from colleagues, to friends, to very close friends.

Your plan was working perfectly... until one day. Until that one awful, magical day in which he invited you to study at his house.

Your whole body was trembling and the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't sit still as you drove to Andy's place, but the smile plastered on your face would let anyone know that, despite the nervousness, you were thrilled.

You took a deep breath and opened the car door, shutting it behind you before skipping over to the house's front porch and ringing the doorbell.

Silence. Nothing. Not a "I'm coming", not a "one second!", not even a single footstep. You checked your phone to make sure you were on the right address and that you had gotten the date correct before ringing the doorbell again, while anxiously biting your lip.

Suddenly, you heard heavy footsteps coming from the inside, and the white wooden door swung open.

"Who the f- oh, who are you?" The man's voice was rigid at first, but it softened and quieted as his eyes landed on your figure, in a little skirt and books tucked against your chest.

Your eyes widened in surprise. That man couldn't be anyone other than Andy's dad. His eyes were just as blue, and his voice was just the right amount of soft and rough as well. But there was something about him... Something that made your heart pound out of your chest. Maybe it was the short beard, the sweat dripping down his forehead, or the way his shirt hugged his biceps, but you were feeling something just about everywhere.

Andy was good looking guy but that... that was a gorgeous man.

"S-sorry sir, I'm Y/N. I'm Andy's friend he uh- we were supposed to study today."

"Were you now?" He grabbed the rag that was tucked away on the waist of his jeans and wiped his forehead "I'm sorry darlin' but the little shit hasn't come back yet, feel free to come in and wait for him though." The man said, stepping away from the door and giving you space to walk inside.

His tone wasn't rigid, but there was definitely an aura around him that demanded respect and that imposed authority. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, but you smiled nevertheless.

"I wouldn't want to impose, I can come back later, Sir!" You shyly replied, as it was clear that the man was working and he had no idea he was about to receive visitors.

"Aren't you a sweet little thing, I wish all of Andy's friends were like you. It's no trouble, really. It's the least I can do for you in this situation." He said with a chuckle.

You smiled and walked into the house and right past the man, hoping he missed the blush that crept up on your face and the nervousness that made your legs shake.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Barnes!"

The man nodded in response and pointed you to the living room before disappearing somewhere in the house.

Minutes passed by and the clock on the wall ticked as you were left by yourself for who knows how long. You had plenty of time to look around, although there was not much to look at - the house was barely decorated, only a few framed pictures here and there, everything else was the strictly necessary furniture. The living room was but a couch, a reclining chair, a nice plasma TV and a coffee table with circular stains (from the lack of coasters, no doubt). Andy had once mentioned that his parents were no longer together, and that was obvious from the looks of the house - it was clearly a man-cave.

An hour had passed by when Andy's dad emerged from the back of the house once more, his forehead shining with sweat as he wiped his greasy hands on a rag.

He lifted his head and the man's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes met yours.

"Where is Andy?" He simply asked, in a monotone voice.

You swallowed thickly, almost nervously, as if you had done something wrong.

"I... I'm not sure, Sir. He hasn't answered my texts."

The male sighed and his features softened - you couldn't tell if he was annoyed that a stranger was still in his house or if he was irritated that his son had invited someone over and left them alone.

He opened his mouth to say something else but, as if on cue, Andy burst in the door.

"Hey dad there's a car in the- oh hey Y/N, what are you doing here?" The boy asked when his eyes landed on your figure sitting on the couch.

"We had agreed to study today." You said, holding up the books you had brought with yourself.

"No, we had agreed to study on Tuesday."

His dad walked over to him and smacked him on the head - it wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it was rough enough for Andy to understand he was being reprimanded.

"Which is today, dipshit. And where's your phone?"

Andy's eyes widened and he facepalmed.

"Aw man, is it!? I'm so sorry, Y/N!" Andy knelt in front of you, staring at you with those steel blue eyes "I will make it up to you, I promise."

But suddenly, those turquoise orbs that you came to love so much, did not have the same effect on you, as you had somehow found a more beautiful pair to stare into.

You had spent the week getting flashbacks of the small exchanges you had had with Andy's dad - the way his muscles flexed at every little movement, the way his hair fell over his face ever so slightly, and his piercing blue eyes, that gave such a rugged man an almost angelic look.

You felt guilty for the amount of thoughts you had about the man, especially when you were constantly hanging around Andy, but you couldn't help the effect he had on you, it was like poison slowly taking over your body.

"Why don't you come over for dinner, Y/N? I'm cooking tonight and I still owe you an apology for the other day." Andy invited, as you walked to your class.

You bit your lip - free homecooked food was not something you wanted to decline, but you wondered if stepping back into that house was wise, as more interactions with "Mr. Barnes" would bring your infatuation to a new level, you were sure.

"Come on! If you decline free food it means you were never really angry at me."

You rolled your eyes and eventually agreed, convincing yourself that it was nothing but a stupid schoolgirl crush that would eventually go away.

You were nervous throughout the rest of the day, for no reason at all. You didn't even know if Mr. Barnes would be home, you didn't even know if you were going to interact with him, but for some reason that beautiful gaze of his was burned into your mind.

Andy didn't find your silence too weird, as he just thought you were still angry at him - and he hoped that that night's dinner would bring your friendship back to normal.

After classes were done, you stopped by your place so you could shower and change clothes after a whole day of sweating. You stood in front of your closet, towel wrapped around your body as you wondered what you should wear, your eyes landed on a miniskirt. Usually you'd wear something sexy to catch the eyes of a certain boy, but this time you knew you'd be wearing it to catch someone else's attention. It felt wrong, it made you feel somewhat guilty, for some reason, and yet you still picked up the skirt and put it on.

Andy must've been busy with the cooking, because when you rang the doorbell it was Mr. Barnes who opened it for you. It hard to contain the smile (and the attraction you felt for him) as his eyes traveled down your body and landed on the little skirt you wore.

This time he wasn't as sweaty and dirty (to your slight displeasure), he wore a dark pair of jeans and a light shirt, with its sleeves rolled up until his elbow.

"Hello, Sir." You greeted politely.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he stepped away from the door, granting you passage.

"Hello, darlin'. You can just call me James." He said as you entered the house.

You can just call him James. You didn't know how to feel about that, there was a certain appeal in calling him "Sir", as if you were recognizing that he was somehow superior to you, more worthy of respect and authority.

"Of course S- James." You said, nonetheless, correcting yourself immediately.

"Andy's right down there in the kitchen." James said with a smirk.

You thanked him and followed the direction in which he had pointed to, and you found Andy, and a mess of onion and potato peels around him, as well as chunky and uneven cut carrots and a poorly de-boned chicken.

As you watched the boy struggle, you felt a presence behind you - James Barnes. You looked up at him, to find him staring at his son with a mix of confusion and disgust on his face.

"Hey, buddy, the chicken is already dead." He mocked.

Andy looked over his shoulder to find the two of you staring at him, and he looked... stressed, to say the least. It was clear that he didn't know how to cook whatever he was trying to cook, that the only reason why he asked you over was to impress you, and he had failed.

His dad laughed and walked over to him, patting his shoulder.

"Go wash up kid, I can finish up."

Andy looked like he had just seen his guardian angel, he thanked his dad and glanced at you.

"I'll be right back just- I'm going to take a shower." The boy ran past you and you couldn't help but giggle at the disheveled state of the ever-composed Andy Barnes.

However, when he left, you were painfully aware that you were once more left alone with the man you had been picturing in your mind the whole week.

"Do you need help, James?" The name rolled off your tongue with such ease, it felt natural, and for some reason it aroused you, as if calling him by his name expressed some sort of closeness.

The man glanced at you, and then at the counter - you could see the conflict in his eyes.

"You're a guest, don't worry about it."

You had been invited by his son, and the last thing he wanted was to have someone invited over to do housework, but you couldn't stand back and relax while he looked so overwhelmed. So, you rolled up your sleeves and began pooling together all of the peels and unusable parts that were laying on the counter.

"It's no problem, really." You told him with a smile as you carried the stuff you had collected to the trash.

Unbeknownst to you, the male's eyes fell to your legs as you walked away, and he muttered a small "fuck" under his breath as you bent over the trash. Your skirt rode up dangerously, and he had to force his gaze away from your figure. Obviously your outfit hadn't gone unnoticed by the man...

There wasn't much of an exchange between the two of you before Andy came down the stairs running, hair still slightly damp. The man focused on finishing dinner and you set the table, to pass time and fill in the awkwardness.

"Sorry! Sorry for leaving you with him again." The boy said as he came into the room.

"I will ground you." The man retorted, playfully.

You giggled at the joke and glanced at how mesmerizing Mr. Barnes looked, even from the back.

"Sorry Sarge!" Andy said and you cocked your head to the side.

James turned around to put the food on the table, and Andy took it as an opportunity to hook his finger around the chain around his neck, bringing the dog tag that was hidden under his shirt forward - you didn't miss the way it flashed some of the male's naked chest.

"He was an army brat and then joined the army and became a Sergeant. I wanted to join too but dad didn't let me." Andy explained, as you all began taking your seats around the table.

A soldier... That would explain the brooding and the serious expression, and it would further explain the way his presence alone demanded respect and exuded authority. It somehow made him even more desirable, if that was even possible.

"What would you even do there, Andy? You couldn't chop a carrot, never mind shoot a gun." You joked.

Andy's face grew red with embarrassment and his dad left out a hearty laugh.

You couldn't stop the smile from spreading on your face, for some reason you felt proud for making the male laugh. Andy protested your joke, but you didn't listen, as your eyes were glued to the dog tag, trying to read it.

"James B. Barnes..." You said to yourself, as you thought about what the "B" stood for.

"Bucky."

You eyes snapped up and you met the male's gaze, it was piercing and there was a mixture of emotions to them, they were curious and had a glint of playfulness, like a big dog staring at the newly arrived kitten.

"S-sorry?" You asked, not gathering what he meant.

"The 'B', it stands for Buchanan, or Bucky for short."

You blushed deeply, and you could feel the heat on your face as apparently you had said his name quite loud.

The glances you exchanged throughout the dinner were brief, and both of you wondered if there was something more to them, but, due to the fact that he was you dad's friend, the two of you just dismissed it as fragments of their imagination.

The dinner had been disastrous. Well, it had gone wonderfully, which was terrible, because your head was filled with constant images of your supposed crush's father.

Your head was spinning constantly, and your (romantic) interest on Andy had been reduced to basically nothing. You couldn't stop thinking of his eyes, his smile, his gaze, his muscles, his... everything. And the thoughts only got dirtier and dirtier as the clock ticked, each hour making your mind delve deeper into your perverted fantasies.

You refused to touch yourself to image of your close friend's father, it was wrong, but one day the images in your mind seemed too real, you were so desperate you could swear you almost felt his rough hand softly exploring your inner thighs, travelling upwards and upwards. You flipped the covers off of yourself and put on a pair of shorts as you headed out for some air.

You walked with no destination, but you remembered there was a convenience store nearby, and you decided to stop by - maybe a late night snack and a late night walk would make you sleepy enough to fall right asleep once you headed back, but oh how wrong you were.

You greeted the cranky cashier as you walked in and made your way around the store, looking for something that would catch your eye, but, to your surprise, you found a different kind of snack hidden in the back.

Standing in front of the beer cases was none other than James Buchanan Barnes, with one hand on his hip as he brushed his hair back with the other hand. His jeans were riding terribly low, and when he lifted his arm to fix the rebel strands of hair, he revealed the waistband of his underwear, like the ribbon of a gift you desperately wanted to unwrap.

He lived nearby, and you wondered if you had crossed paths before and you just hadn't noticed him, or if it was the universe toying with you.

You realized you had been standing there, staring like a creep, and he had probably noticed someone was in the same aisle, so you decided turned on your heels and walked towards the cookie aisle.

You had spend a couple minutes biting your lip and admiring all of the different flavours, before deciding on the Oreos at the very top of the high shelf.

Just as you struggled, standing on your tippy toes and reaching for the item, someone came behind you and grabbed a pack. Their hand was on your waist, and their chest directly behind you. You turned around, coming face to face with none other than Bucky, the man you were trying to hard to avoid. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you wanted nothing more than to grab the hand that had grabbed your waist and place it lower on your body.

You breathed in deeply, inhaling his manly musk, a faint smell of fresh laundry and deodorant, nothing too strong like most guys in your college whom you could smell a mile away.

"Hey darlin', what're you doing out here so late?" He asked as he took a step back and handed you your snack.

"Hi! I couldn't sleep, it's uh... it's too hot." It wasn't entirely false, but he didn't need to know where that heat resided, or who was the cause for it.

Your fingers brushed against his as you took the Oreos from him, and adrenaline shot through your body. Every single one of his touches left a fire in your body, one that he started and only he could put out.

"Yeah? Me either." There was a certain sadness in his tone, but he quickly changed the subject. "Are you here all by yourself?"

"Uh, yeah, I am."

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed together and he seemed to be deep in thought for a second. He had it in his nature to take care of everyone around him, and the situation simply didn't seem right in his mind.

"Let me drive you home, it's getting real late and it's dark out there."

You desperately wanted to take the offer, but you couldn't - not only did you not want to be a bother, you also didn't want your forget-about-Bucky walk to turn into a more-Bucky-content walk.

"Thank you, Mr. B- James, it's okay, really."

"Are you sure?" Bucky asked, feeling uneasy.

He had no authority over you, but it didn't feel correct to let a young woman walk alone in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, no worries James, thank you for the offer."

"Have yourself a good night then, darlin'." He said, with a small smile.

"You too, sir!"

You mentally cursed yourself for calling him "sir" again as you turned around and made your way to the cashier - old habits die hard.

As you left the store, you glanced back to steal another look at Bucky's ethereal appearance, and you wondered if you should have just given in and let him take you home.

"Hey there, wanna do something fun, princess?" A voice snapped you out of your fantasies, and, when you realized, three guys had surrounded you.

They weren't huge or muscled by any means, but they were tripled in number, so you felt a little uneasy in their presence.

"Come on baby, why don't we take you home, huh?" The tallest one of the trio asked, stepping forward.

"I'm- I'm good, thanks."

"Don't look so scared, we don't bite." He got closer to you, so that he could whisper "Not unless you want us to."

As you stood there, frozen in fear, the crew shared a collective laugh. The laughing stopped rather quickly, and their faces morphed from entertained and amused, to serious ones. You didn't understand what was happening, but as you took one step back, you bumped into someone's chest. You looked up to find none other than Bucky. His eyes were devoid of that twinkle and glisten that you fantasized about, they were dark and clouded by rage.

He said nothing before taking your arm and pulling you to stand behind him.

"I wanna do something fun. I think I know just how much fun the four of us can have." The male said, walking towards them until he was face to face with the guy that had whispered in your ear.

There were three guys versus just one Bucky, but their three scrawny figures stood no chance against a man like James Barnes.

"Ay, let's- let's bounce y'all." One of them said, in the back, pulling his friends back by the forearm.

"Yeah, I think it'd be best if you three 'bounced'." Bucky mocked, never letting go of the eye contact.

Once they were out of sight, the man turned around to face you, placing his hands on your arms.

"Are you okay? Darlin'?" One of his hands slid up your body as he grabbed your chin and tipped it upwards, so his worried eyes could look into your shocked, fearful ones.

"F-fuck..." You finally said, brushing your hair back in frustration.

You could finally breathe, and you felt like Bucky had just rescued you from the claws of a wolf.

"Thank you s- James. Thank you so much." You muttered, and Bucky breathed out in relief. "I shouldn't have-"

"Hey, none of that. You were living your life and what happened isn't your fault. Let's get you home, okay?" The man said, cutting you off and preventing you from potentially blaming what happened on any of your actions, which made you smile shyly and nod along to his question.

You followed Bucky to his truck. He offered you his hand so you could get on the seat as it was quite high, and his eyes shamelessly trailed down your body once more. The man had to turn his head to the side until you had climbed onto the seat.

Aside from giving him directions to your place, the trip was rather quiet.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, as he took one of your hands and placed his free hand on your hip while helping you out of his truck once you had arrived to your house.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for... that, back there."

"No need to worry darlin'. You uh- text me, or call me, if you're ever in trouble. Andy told me your parents live away from the university, so hit me up if you ever need anything."

Andy had told him... You wondered if Bucky asked or if the son had simply volunteered that information. Nonetheless you took the card he extended you - it was a business card with Bucky's Garage written on it, and his phone number under it.

You blushed intensely and your mind became foggy for a second, as you acknowledged that the man had just handed you his number.

"Thank you. I will, James."

After that encounter, you didn't see Bucky for over a week. The frequency with which he visited your mind, however, increased by the hour. It seemed like the saying "out of sight, out of mind" had no real meaning when it came to dirty thoughts involving James Barnes.

Nine days after the fact, Andy asked you and a couple other people over to watch basketball. It was a small group of four boys, including Andy, and two girls, you and a really sweet girl whom you had grown closer to, since you hung out together often because of the guys.

You knew Bucky would be there, which made choosing an outfit much more difficult. Should you dress normally!? Should you try to tease him further? Would you want to continue feeding this silly fantasy of yours?

Your eyes skimmed the closet, eventually landing on a cheerleading outfit - it was a small skirt and a long sleeved crop top, both with a colour scheme that matched your town's basketball team's. You had bought it for halloween once, for an undead cheerleader look, and you were seriously considering it.

Your mind raced with several contradicting thoughts, but you eventually picked it up and tried it on.

"Should I? Maybe it's too much... I mean, they will be wearing team jerseys, so it wouldn't be too farfetched to wear this. Or would it?" You were talking to yourself like a crazy person as you looked at your reflection in the mirror.

Eventually, you decided to text the other girl who was invited, in hopes of getting some honest feedback, before asking what she was thinking of taking as an outfit. You snapped two photos, one from the front, and one from your back, so she could properly see the length (or lack thereof) of your skirt.

You: is this too slutty to take to his house or does it look good? (2 attachments)

You put your phone down but it vibrated again as soon as it touched the mattress.

"I don't think the text was for me, darlin', but for the record, it looks good."

"minors do not interact" banner credit: @cafekitsune

[merlinmylove]

Morgana curses Arthur to become an animal (vermin to be precise).

He is now a mouse, small, universally disgusted, and easily killable by animals and other humans. Arthur had to navigate back from Morganas hut in the forest and find his way back to his castle and to Gaius.

He knows he could be eaten by a cat or an owl, be killed by the servants who spot him in the corridors, or get lost in the now very big Camelot. It takes him a whole two days to make his way back to the citadel

Morganas plan was genius one. He was invisible and helpless. He could be killed and no one would know or realise that they had killed their king while chasing a little forest mouse.

His journey takes him inside the castle, and while he’s roaming the corridors as a small mouse when he spots Merlin.

Merlin!

As he runs up to Merlin the idiot lights up. “Hello little one :D”

He bends down and scoops Arthur up into his (surprisingly large hands).

“Oh aren’t you just a sweet little thing? Don’t worry, I won’t tell cook I found you down here. You can stay in my pocket while I tidy the kings chambers”

Arthur knew that his friend had a soft spot for all animals, but really this was taking it a step too far. Allowing some random mouse he found crawling around the floor to accompany him into The Kings Private Chambers? Just so he could have some company while he tidies? What a dollophead.

Although…in this specific scenario…he supposed he could make an exception. Just this once. And as soon as he transforms back into his human self he will be having words with his servant about this absolutely ridiculous behaviour.

But for now Arhrur is safe in his silly manservant’s pocket. Silly, lovable Merlin, who just picked up a little mouse and decided to take it with him for the day because he was bored.

He stays curled up in Merlin’s neckerchief

(And he’s so totally normal about being this close to Merlin’s strong neck and chest. If he wasn’t cursed as a mouse he would be so normal about this)

It’s much later in the evening, while him and Merlin eat off of the Kings dinner plate (again, he will be having words about this), when the warning bell sounds.

The King is Missing!

[cleolinda]

Phone scam gothic

So my mom sits down and starts telling me about two weird-ass phone calls she had today—she was returning a missed call, and the woman who answered just… sobbed for a minute. I’m sitting here asking, like, a whole minute? Nothing else, just sobbing? Who did you THINK you were calling back?

“United Healthcare, they have my Medicare plan. They’ve been calling me for weeks without leaving any voicemail.”

(Are you sure it was United Healthcare? “It was the same number that’s on my card, I checked, and that’s who the caller ID said it was.”)

Are you sure it was a whole minute? Did YOU say anything?

“Yes, like sixty seconds while I kept going ‘Hello? Hello?’ It sounded like she was having a nervous breakdown, I kept waiting to see if she’d tell me what was even wrong. Finally I just hung up.”

And then my mom turned right around and called back again, because she was gonna get to the bottom of this.

This time she got a different woman, perfectly calm, who wanted to set up “your in-home direct patient care home health visit.”

At this point (at this point?) I’m staring, because no one here currently has anyone coming to the house to help with any kind of medical care. My mom might honestly be the healthiest member of the household, but even I don’t use any home services, herniated discs and all. “Did they have you… confused with someone else?”

“No, she repeated my full name and phone number back to me.”

This lady then started ARGUING with my mother. Why don’t you want us to come to your house to manage your direct patient care? Don’t you need home health care to be managed? Why don’t you need home health care? Why would you not want home health care? “I JUST KIND OF HAVE HIGH CHOLESTEROL?” But don’t you want us to manage your home health care? “WHY DO YOU NEED TO COME TO MY HOUSE TO MANAGE HEALTH CARE I DON’T USE?”

My mom finally hung up on this lady as well, without giving her any real information.

The more we talked about it, the more things we started to notice:

I was incredibly creeped out by the unsolicited use of the word “manage,” for some reason. Very sinister “write me into your will” vibes for some reason—I don’t know what these people want, but they’re gonna get you to sign something over.

My mom got especially stuck on “WHY DO YOU NEED TO COME TO MY HOUSE?!”

My mom has used home health services before… years ago, before she was on Medicare. But this company wouldn’t know about that. However, if you’re on Medicare, you’re over 65. Having not ever dealt with my mother before, someone calling a Medicare user might be playing the odds that a person over 65 is 1) in frail health and 2) old enough to get easily confused.

Fair play to my mom, she’s the one who thought of number spoofing. I’m so busy not answering the phone ever and arranging all my medical communications to happen through passworded portals that I didn’t think of it.

Hey, are you guys, like… holding someone hostage…?

So at this point, I google “United Healthcare scam.”

The “health insurance counselor”

This fraudster will offer help navigating the health insurance marketplace for a fee, capitalizing on people’s confusion about the state-based health exchanges created through the Affordable Care Act.

What to know

This sort of assistance is indeed available and is legitimate, but the people who offer it – also known as “navigators” – aren’t allowed to charge for their services. Also, remember that people with Medicare coverage don’t need to use the state health exchanges. The exchanges are for people under the age of 65, who are looking to enroll in an individual health plan.

Change “navigate” to “manage,” and I think this is it, although the lady on the phone never mentioned any fees. Either my mom didn’t let her get that far, or this is the point of actually getting into someone’s house: persuading them face-to-face to pay something, and potentially refusing to leave until the scammer has worn their target down.

Medicare does not make unsolicited phone calls.

Okay, so it was a scam no matter what it was about. As far as I’m concerned, my mom should contact Actual United Healthcare about it, and I’m here to spread the good word of Never Believing Anyone on the Phone 2k24. I don’t know what to tell you about the lady having the nervous breakdown though.

[humanjarvis]

i learned from you

synopsis: while talking with your colleague, you realize caleb is the closest thing you have to a mother figure. 

pairing: caleb x reader, reader is mc tags: light angst, comfort, fluff, reader had a rough childhood, reader has a period, reader and caleb's relationship is ambiguous but he kisses her head once, reader questions existence, reader is kind of a crybaby, grandma josephine implied to be a bum in this no shade to her word count: 1.3k

a/n: i hope this doesn't read weird #imnotintothat i just keep thinking about how caleb fulfills like 6 different roles in mc's life. he is so gender studies to me

“What do you mean you don’t know how to straighten your hair? Didn’t your mom ever teach you?” Tara asks in genuine confusion. 

With your sandwich halfway to your lips, you freeze. Although you were close with your colleagues, you weren’t all that open about your upbringing, for obvious reasons. Before now, everyone had always accepted your reticence on the topic. They’d never been people to overstep, but you guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“I don't remember much about my parents,” you respond carefully. “My memory from before the Wanderers came is a little blurry, sorry.” 

Tara’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as her cheeks turn scarlet. “I didn’t mean to—” she starts. “I wasn’t trying to—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 

You knew she didn’t know. That was kind of the point. Your whole thing was to move through life ignoring your early childhood, pretending you’d simply spawned into Linkon as a tween. But you couldn’t tell Tara that—she was sweet, it was an honest mistake, and she didn’t need your baggage at noon on a Friday.

Scrambling for something to break the tension, you blurt out, “I think she did teach me how to dry it, though!”

The peace offering is bland—to most people, drying hair is nothing special—but it works. Tara jumps back into the conversation, tactfully choosing to talk about her childhood so you could keep yours locked away in the depths of your mind. Crisis averted, you think. 

Except as the minutes tick by and Tara drones on, you realize the crisis is very much not averted. You’d brought up your “mom” teaching you to dry your hair to save you both from an awkward lunch, but when the lie left your mouth, it wasn’t your mother you were thinking of. It wasn’t Grandma Josephine. It was Caleb. 

Caleb had taught you how to dry your hair. It’d happened when you were twelve; a rowdy classmate had snuck up behind you and pushed you into the pool, leaving your hair a tangled, matted mess. When Caleb had found out your teachers were letting you go home early, he’d skipped his last two classes to be right by your side, running a shower for you while you sulked by the bathroom door. After you’d dried off and changed into the pajamas he’d left on the counter, Caleb came in from the hallway, carrying the same towel he’d used to dry your hair countless times before. Section by section, he’d squeezed the water from your hair, showing you how to without frizzing it up. “Not saying that ‘wet cat’ is a bad look on you, but I get the feeling you don’t want to look like that all the time,” he’d quipped. 

Caleb had been there for you for as long as you could remember, you realize. As you walk back to the Hunters Association, halfheartedly entertaining Tara’s chattering, the memories flood your brain: Caleb teaching you math. Caleb nursing you back to health when you had the flu. Caleb packing your lunchbox, Caleb doing your laundry, Caleb holding you through your first period. For all your firsts, all your milestones, and even the dull moments, he had been there. Your head spins as you stare at your desk, not even remembering sitting down. All your life, has Caleb been your only mother figure? 

You go home lost in thought. 

You stay that way for the whole afternoon, nearly forgetting about the movie night you’d planned for that evening with—you guessed it—Caleb. As you float around your apartment on autopilot, tidying up your living room and throwing on comfier clothes, the doorbell rings. He’s right on time. 

“Hey, pipsqueak,” he greets as you welcome him in. “I hope you’re hungry—I brought your favorite snacks.” 

You thank him with a smile, hoping his observant eyes can’t spot the way it wavers. Just two hours, you think. Two hours and then you’ll be free to question your existence all weekend.

The movie plays as normal. It’s easy to escape the worries on your mind with a fantasy blockbuster stealing your attention. It’s only when Caleb offers to make you a late dinner that the weight of your day falls back down to your shoulders. 

“No, that’s okay. I can just order something after you’re gone,” you refuse shyly. Having returned to your earlier haze of overthinking, you make a mistake. As Caleb moves to ruffle your hair, you flinch, dodging under his hand. The ensuing beats of awkward silence are all it takes for him to register that something is off.  

“...You just pulled away from me. You never do that unless you’re upset. Talk to me, pips—did I do something wrong?” He pauses. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you rush, throwing your hands out in front of you. “No, it’s just…”

When you trail off, he steps closer. “It’s just…what? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” he presses. 

“It’ll sound silly. And weird,” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze. 

“Nothing about you is silly, pipsqueak. Except when you’re actin’ cute for my attention,” he adds, gently poking your nose.  

You reward his efforts to put you at ease with a shaky giggle, finally finding the will to talk. “Earlier, Tara just asked me about my parents—wondering if my mom had ever taught me to do something.” 

Caleb grimaces. 

“And with Gran so busy all the time…and with her…gone…now… I just realized the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother figure is you,” you breathe, your voice breaking at the end of your confession. 

Caleb’s unreadable gaze makes the tears arrive faster. “It’s just…you’re everything to me, Caleb. You’ve been with me through everything,” you sniffle. “Every role in my life you could possibly play, you play it, and I didn't even notice until now. You’ve spent over half your life guiding me through mine, and I just feel so helpless. I don’t even know if I'd be alive without you, and—”

Your tears constrict your throat, forcing you to pause if you want to breathe properly.

Even though he knows now is a bad time to dote on you, given the circumstances, Caleb would rather eat glass than turn a blind eye to your tears. He quickly shushes you, letting you cry into his sweater, and the more you relax in his embrace, the more you hate yourself. You really can’t do anything without him.

Settling you both on the loveseat, Caleb rocks you for a few moments before he begins. “I didn't know you felt that way, but it seems like you didn't either. Look, pipsqueak,” he sighs, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Don't ever feel bad about how you were brought up. I won’t let you keep stressing yourself out over something that was never in your control.” He pauses, as if weighing the consequences of his next words. “And if it means anything, which I hope it does, I thank the stars every day that the universe was kind enough to let me take care of you. To see you grow,” he murmurs, pressing a long kiss to your temple. “Any way you'll have me in your life, I'll be there. Never feel ashamed for that.” 

With your heart pounding, you peek up at him, hesitant awe on your still-teary face. He meets your gaze with a soft smile, softly stroking your back, and you wonder what heroic deeds you accomplished in your past life to deserve him. “I’m sorry for pulling away from you earlier,” you whisper, nestling your head into his shoulder. 

You don’t know how long you stay there curled beside him, but the moon is high in the sky when he next speaks.

“So…mother figure, huh?” he asks, voice mischievous now that your tears have dried. “Better me than anyone else. You might have liked her more than me—can’t have that.” 

Lifting your head, you swat his chest. “Caleb!” you groan.  

[amiableness]

i had another idea for dad!james. who sometimes has to work late and reader helps take care of henry. he comes home and sees her reading henry a story before bed. he’s just heart eyes the whole time 🤎

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1125 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist

By the time James gets home, he’s exhausted. He didn’t plan to be this late, but sometimes his job demands it. He feels fortunate that you’re the one watching Henry tonight. If it had been the babysitter, she would have told him “tough luck” and left, as she never likes staying late when James’s work keeps him beyond schedule. He understands her frustration; it’s not fair to expect her to stay late without notice. But coming home to you and Henry is always a comfort.

He longs to kick off his shoes by the door, savoring the relief of stretching his toes. A hot shower to wash away the stress and changing into his cozy sweats are next on his list. Yet, more than anything, he looks forward to seeing his two favorite people: Henry, with his innocent, sleepy smile, and you, with your warm, comforting presence.

You truly embody comfort for him.

James will never admit it, but the nights you watch Henry while he works late are his favorite. Dinner is always kept warm for him in the oven, filling the kitchen with a delicious, welcoming aroma. The lamps he never uses are on because you insist they make the house cozier, casting a soft, inviting glow over the living room. And seeing your jacket and shoes tucked right next to his and Henry’s is one of his favorite sights—a simple yet profound reminder of home.

You take care of the little things that mean so much, like tidying up Henry’s toys and leaving a packed lunch for James in the fridge for the next day. Those lunches are the only ones he looks forward to, knowing that if he makes them himself, they’ll just be leftovers from Henry’s daycare lunches. You never prepare Henry’s lunches, understanding how much James values the tradition of leaving him a note. Although Henry can’t read it yet, Hilary at daycare always makes sure to read it to him.

The moment he opens the front door, a lovesick smile spreads across his face. There, by the door, are your coat and boots—essential for braving the London winter. As he steps inside, the familiar aroma of his favorite pasta dish fills the air, welcoming him home.

He locks the door behind him and sets his belongings down near the entryway. The house is neat and quiet, with the lamps providing a softer, more pleasant light than the harsh overheads. The faint aroma of pasta still lingers, adding to the relaxed atmosphere. He’s pretty sure the house never smells this good after he makes dinner.

As he heads up the stairs, he hears your voice animatedly reading Henry a bedtime story. Every now and then, Henry’s giggles punctuate the scene, and James imagines the dramatic pauses you take, flashing playful glances at him. He moves quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but he wants to take a moment to savor the sight of you reading to his son. The feeling he gets seeing you with Henry is something he knows he might never experience with anyone else.

He knows that someday things will change. You’ll find someone else, fall in love, and soon you won’t have the time to spend evenings at his house reading to his son. The thought of that future makes James feel uneasy.

For now, he leans quietly against the doorframe of Henry’s room, watching as you recline against the headboard of Henry’s small toddler bed, with Henry snuggled up next to you. Your hair is swept back, and you’re wearing a pair of sleep shorts that are a size too small, which always drives James a little crazy. He suppresses a smile when he notices you’re wearing one of his shirts—probably another forgotten piece from your own wardrobe. It happens often, but James remains oblivious to the fact that it might be intentional.

Henry’s head rests gently on the side of your upper stomach, his little hand clutching his stuffed dragon tightly to his chest. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, and James can see the joy in his son’s eyes as he listens intently to the story. The soft glow from the bedside lamp washes over both of you: Henry’s tiny form curled up against you, his breaths steady and rhythmic, and you, fully immersed in the book, your voice animated and soothing.

James adjusts his glasses slightly, trying to avoid interrupting the moment. But as he moves, Henry’s gaze shoots up, and his face instantly lights up with a wide grin. “Daddy!” he exclaims with a burst of excitement, his voice filled with pure joy.

“That does look a bit like Daddy, doesn’t it?” you say, tilting your head as you examine the book with a playful grin.

“What does, darling?” James asks as he steps into the room, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity. He gives up trying to stay inconspicuous once Henry spots him. Your eyes widen in surprise, your expression shifting from surprise to a hint of embarrassment as you look up. The soft light from the bedside lamp illuminates your face, revealing the genuine shock.

“Jamie! You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you two might be asleep, so I tried to come in quietly.” It’s a half-truth, but you don’t press the matter.

“I suppose it’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” You glance at the clock and wince. “Let’s finish this page and then get some rest, okay?”

“Daddy, you listen too.” Henry’s tiny hand reaches out and pats the bed, his eyes shining with anticipation. James fights back a grin, recognizing the familiar gesture. Whenever you want James or Henry to sit beside you, you pat the spot next to you just like that.

“There isn’t much room, buddy,” James says gently. Henry’s face falls into a small frown, clearly disappointed.

“You hold darling, like she holds me.” Henry pouts, and James knows he’s about to get what he wants in the most endearing way only a three-year-old can manage. “Darling”—the nickname James has always used for you and that Henry now affectionately calls you too.

James’s eyes flicker to yours, and you shrug with a smile, adjusting Henry in your arms to make space for him. As James shifts onto the too-small bed, his heart pounds with affection. You lean back against his chest, sending him a soft, reassuring smile over your shoulder.

The simple gesture nearly causes him to go into cardiac arrest.

Henry lets out a joyful giggle before snatching the book from your hands and starting to “read” it on his own. James glances down at the illustration of the friendly brown bear wearing wire-rimmed glasses, holding its cub close, and snorts softly.

So that’s how you see him.

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