#and it’s the only one I finished (so far!)

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much.

[killiaia]

SEXTAPE

Last fic of 2024.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Rosé x male reader.

"Thanks, man."

You thank the cashier and exit the store. You take out your phone and notice again that you have zero messages. You've been back from your mission for several weeks but you still have zero replies from Rosé.

But when you open your social networks, you see her everywhere. You see her and Bruno Mars. Literally, they're everywhere. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tiktok. Any application, they're there.

And it hurts. It hurts to see your girlfriend with someone else. It hurts to have no messages. It hurts not to hear from her, you don't even know if you're in the same country.

And tonight, you decided to clear your head. You got on your motorcycle and set off. Where? You don't know, you don't care. You just needed to get away.

Here you are, in a gas station deep in the Korean countryside. It's now 3:43 a.m. and you're drinking a can of Coke.

You're about to leave when you feel your phone vibrate.

Jennie is calling. You pick up and find yourself face to face with her.

"Hey.." says a sleepy Jennie.

"Hi, gorgeous. You're not asleep? "

"No, I'm not. You weren't answering messages, we were worried with the girls. "

"Oh. I'm sure Lisa, Jisoo and you did. Rosé, not sure. "

"Sweetie.." goes Jennie.

"I don't even know if we're on the same continent. I know I'm in no position to say this with my profession but... it hurts. "

"I know it does. But sweetie, where are you right now? "

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

You look around for a sign. After a few seconds of searching, you find one.

"I'm not far from Gimhae."

"Sweetie! "Jennie says in shock. "You're not far from Busan! "

"Oh." You reply in turn. "I guess I needed to clear my head. "

"I'll call Rosé. You need her. "

"I need all of you. I need her, you, Lisa and Jisoo. "You answer sincerely. "I don't know, I'm lost, I guess. "

"I'm calling Rosé. Don't move, sweetie

"

You want to tell her no but you don't have time Jennie has already left.

You sigh and finish your can, which you throw away. You wait several minutes and decide to get back on your bike.

You're about to turn on the ignition but once again your phone vibrates. You click on accept and Rosé's face appears.

It's daylight where she is. She looks beautiful and happy. You want to say something, but Bruno Mars' voice cuts you off.

"Come on, Rosé! We're having so much fun, you'll see your boyfriend later! "

It's the final straw for you. You notice Rosé's panicked look on the camera just before you cut the call.

You put your phone away and get back on your bike. You turn on the ignition and take off. You have no direction in mind. You just know you have to go.

With each vibration of your phone, you accelerate. You zigzag between cars, you run a red light, you overtake another car, you run a stop sign and you haven't seen the car.

----

"Everything's going to be okay. "Rosé's mother says softly.

Rosé cries in her mother's arms. His father strokes his hair, but Rosé is devastated.

Ever since your accident, Rosé has been a shadow of her former self.

Following your accident, Rose cancelled all promotions with Bruno Mars.

When you hung up, Rosé tried to call you several times, but when you didn't answer, she called Jennie. Jennie tried to call you but you didn't answer - it was only several hours later that Jennie received a call telling you of your accident.

Jennie called Rosé in tears and booked a private jet to Busan. You were taken to a Busan hospital, the best one because Jennie paid for it.

"If he dies, I'll never forgive you. "Jennie told Rosé.

Rosé enters your hospital room and collapses. Seeing you so vulnerable makes her legs buckle. Your right leg is in plaster and so is your right arm. Your head is covered in bandages, as is your torso.

"He's asleep. "says a voice from behind Rosé and her parents.

They all turn around and come face to face with your father. Rosé runs to him and takes him in her arms.

"I'm so sorry.

"It's not your fault, Chaeyoung. He made his own choices and these are his consequences... "Your father replies softly.

Rosé's parents come forward.

"Hello. I'm sorry we have to meet like this..."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N's father. "

Your father and Rosé's parents leave the room. Rosé walks over to your bed and gently grabs your hand. Your hand is cold and Rosé tries to warm it.

Gently, Rosé places a kiss on your forehead. You let out a groan of pain and Rose apologizes.

"I'm sorry, my love." Rose panics.

She grabs a chair and sits down beside you.

"Ah. There you are. "says a voice from behind Rosé.

Rosé turns and looks at Jennie. She didn't hear her come in. Rosé watches Jennie settle in across from her. Jennie takes her hand and Rosé gives her a questioning look.

"What?" asks Jennie. "You've got nothing to say. "

"Really? Are we really going to have this discussion now? "

"You don't deserve him. He loves you." Jennie lets go.

"I love him more than anything! " says Rosé.

"You respond to the one you love. You don't leave him unanswered for weeks." says Jennie.

"Come to the point, Jennie. "

"I don't think this relationship is right for either of you. You two should break up. "

"Are you serious? We break up and just like that, you get him back, right? "

"He'd be better off with me. "

"Go fuck yourself. Don't even go near him. " threatens Rosé.

"What are you going to do about it? You're never around. You shoot clips with other guys talking about your exes."

"What's going on here?" says a voice behind them.

Lisa enters the room. Rosé and Jennie look at each other, ignoring the Thai woman.

"Get out, both of you. "Lisa says.

Jennie's words stick in Rosé's head. Rosé waits for Jennie to leave and leaves the room. The Australian joins your father.

"Is something going on with Jennie? "

"She's in love with Y/N. "

"Oh." says your father.

"I love your son. I love him more than anything. Believe me, if I weren't an idol, I'd already have your last name. "

"I'd love to have you in the family. ", replies your father.

"I know with everything going on, my music, Bruno Mars.... But I swear I love your son. It's business, nothing ever happened. "

"Chaeyoung. I trust you 100%. My son didn't give you time to explain and he's going to have to face the consequences, but I know you'll support him. "

"I'll take care of Jennie. ", Rosé replies. "Lisa's talking to her. "

"If someone had told me my son would have two idols fighting over him. "Laughs your father.

Rosé laughs.

"I've contacted his team. He won't be able to accept assignments for a while. "

"Good. I don't know if he told you, but a few months ago he came back injured. "Rosé confesses it to your father.

Your father sighs. 'You've never talked much about your work with your father. You know he supports you, but you don't want to worry him.

"I guess he doesn't want me to worry. But not hearing from him worries me. "

Rosé rests her head against your father's shoulder.

"We're going to help him. "

Your father places a kiss on the top of Rosé's head.

"I'm so happy to have you in the family. "

----

* A few months later. *

"You're fit to go on another mission. "

You thank the medical officer and feel Rosé's grip tighten. With your thumb, you caress her hand in a gesture of comfort. You leave the military hospital. Rosé hasn't said a word.

"I'm not leaving just yet baby. "You say to Rosé.

"Not now, but who knows. In a few days, you could be called up. "

"Rosé..." you sigh. "I'm still you and Blackpink's bodyguard. "

"Stay away from Jennie. " Rosé says seriously.

"You're going to have to fix the problem you have with Jennie. I'm serious, baby. I'm not going to leave you for her. "

You get into Rosé's car and notice that Rosé is upset.

"I'm not going to be able to avoid her. You're in the same group, I'm going to do my job and that's it. "

"I swear, if she tries anything. " warns Rosé.

"She already has. "You say nonchalantly.

Rosé slams on the brake and thank goodness you're strapped in. You'd have ended up in the windshield.

"WHAT?"

"She was drunk. It was at one of your galas. You were already asleep. I went downstairs to get Jennie and Lisa. Jennie was completely drunk, Lisa could hardly contain her and you know Jennie. When she's drunk she's extremely horny. "

"What did she do? "asks Rosé.

You notice Rosé's red skin, a sign that she's upset.

"Fact, nothing. It was more in her words. She was in "Oh, I'm sure I suck better than Rosé" mode.

"That bitch. "Said Rosé, slapping her steering wheel.

"I defended you. " You reply.

"What did you say? "

"I told her that the way you sucked my cock was the best thing in the world and that I couldn't stop cumming in your mouth. "

Rosé is shocked by your answer. You notice her clenching her thighs.

"But she went on. She said her pussy was tighter than yours. Of course I defended you, said your pussy was made for my cock. "

Rosé lets out a little "Oh".

"Continue. "says Rosé in a small voice.

"And of course Jennie talked about anal. But my answer shut her up. "

"And what was your answer. "

"I told her that while she was doing her solo during your concert in Australia, you were bent over with my cock in your ass and Lisa was watching you get your ass taken."

"Fuck.." mutters Rosé.

"I had to defend my girlfriend. " You reply nonchalantly. "So you don't have to worry my love. I much prefer your pussy and your ass."

"Baby.." whines Rosé.

"And speaking of which, drive us to your place. I want to fuck you. "

Rosé nods slowly and turns on the ignition. You laugh softly.

----

"Fuuuck Rosé. "

You're just a toy to her. You're completely at Rosé's mercy. The Australian engulfs your cock in her mouth and you're forced to moan.

"I love your fucking mouth so much. "

As Rosé responds, she sucks you faster. You help her with your hand. You grab her ponytail and force her to take your whole cock in your mouth.

Ever since you told her the story about Jennie, Rosé hasn't missed a chance to suck or fuck you.

And here you are, sitting on your sofa with this goddess kneeling between your legs.

"You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth. I should take a picture of you. "

"Do it." replies Rosé seriously. "That way when Jennie asks you you can show her the picture. "

You don't waste any time. You pick up your phone and plant it in front of Rosé.

Rosé takes your cock out of her mouth and starts licking it. She stops and poses, sticking her tongue to your cock. You press the button and there you are with a beautiful photo of Rosé with your cock.

"Film. We're going to film. "Rosé replies seriously.

Although surprised, you accept her request. You switch to video mode and concentrate on Rose like a porn director.

"Look at that pretty girl with my dick in her mouth. You suck me so well. "

"That's because I'm your good girl. "

"You are. " You reply, shoving your cock into her mouth.

"Take a look. She sucks me so good. Are you addicted to my cock? "

Rosé nods. She's far too busy sucking your dick to answer.

"I'm still thinking about where I'm going to cum. In your mouth or on your face? "

"My mouth. "Rosé replies seriously. "Good girls don't waste. "

"You're right. You're going to drink all my cum. "

Rosé nods and continues her oral assault on your cock. With her hands, she jerks you off and accentuates with tongue strokes on your tip.

You continue filming.

"Would you like us to show Jennie how well you take care of my cock? "

"Hey Jennie. "Makes Rosé look at the phone lens. "Watch how well I take care of my boyfriend's dick. I suck it so well, look. "

To accentuate her words, Rosé engulfs your cock again and bops her head, causing you to moan.

"Fuck, you're so good with your mouth Rose. Jennie look how good she is. Look how good my good girl is at sucking my cock."

Excited by your words. Rosé starts to slide her hand under her skirt and thong.

"Oh but actually she's a bad girl. Look, she's starting to touch herself, this naughty girl. “

Rosé takes off her thong and starts touching her pussy. By the sound alone, you can hear how wet she is. Rosé continues to suck you.

"I'm going to cum soon, Rosé. "You tell her.

"Into my mouth. "

Rosé steps back and you stand up. You start stroking your cock.

"Paint me. Cum in my mouth, I'll show her how much I love your cum. "

You speed up the movement around your cock and feel yourself coming quickly. You position your cock over Rosé's wide-open mouth.

After several quick strokes back and forth, you cum. You empty yourself into Rosé's mouth. Several jets of cum land in the singer's mouth. Mouth wide open and full of cum, you approach the camera.

"Swallow. "You order Rosé.

Rosé listens and swallows in one gulp. She opens her mouth again and shows you that she's swallowed it all.

"What a good girl to listen to Daddy. "You say to Rosé and the camera. "Lie down on the sofa and spread your legs, I'm going to eat your pussy."

Rosé listens and complies. The singer removes her skirt and spreads her legs, presenting you with her pussy.

You get down on your knees and put the phone in front of her pussy. With your free hand, you spread the folds of her pussy.

"Look at that beautiful pussy. Just for me. "

You pass the camera to Rosé as you begin to lick her.

"Oh my God. "says Rosé, pointing her head at the camera. "Daddy licks me so good. "

Rosé presses the screen and films you eating her pussy.

"Fuuuck. Look at him eating my pussy. Do you like eating my pussy?" Rosé asks you

"I love it so much. Your pussy tastes divine. It's almost intoxicating. "

To accentuate your words, you catch her clit between your lips and suck it, drawing her into your mouth.

"Daddy, finger me. "

You listen to Rose, still concentrating on her clit, you tuck a finger into her pussy. The double pressure drives Rosé crazy.

"You show Jennie how I eat your pussy?"

"Fuuuck yes. I might even show Lisa and Jisoo. "

"In that case, I need to concentrate. "

With your gaze fixed on the lens, you suck Rosé's clit again and insert a second finger into her pussy, causing Rosé to howl with pleasure.

Rosé tries to film anyway, despite the pleasure she's feeling.

"You...will...have...to...send...me...the...video..." articulates Rosé between each moan.

You nod, still concentrating on giving her pleasure. You lick her pussy, start by licking her hole and work your way up to her clit.

"The girls are going to be jealous to see how you're eating my pussy."

You put a finger back in her pussy and suck on her clit again and Rose starts undulating her pelvis against your mouth.

"That's it. You're going to sit on my face. "

You stand up and Rose looks at you. You help her up. You take the opportunity to kiss her and Rosé continues filming.

"A little kiss for the camera? "asks Rosé.

You grab her and kiss her full on the lips. You take the opportunity to finger her pussy and Rosé moans into your mouth.

"Her pussy is so wet. Listen to her. "

You insert a second finger and finger Rosé. The sound her pussy makes is so beautiful. It's so wet. You continue your assault on her little pussy and Rosé almost falls over as she moans so loudly.

You cut short the pleasure and bring your juicy fingers from Rosé's pussy to the singer's mouth. Rosé hastens to lick your soaked fingers.

"What a good girl. She sucks my juicy fingers. Does your pussy taste good? " You ask Rosé and the camera.

Rosé nods, continuing to lick your fingers. Her gaze is so sexy, so provocative.

You tap her on the ass and Rosé flinches with excitement. You give Rosé your phone back and lie down on the sofa. Rosé climbs on. Her pussy over your face, you grab her ass and let Rosé fall on your face. The shock is almost violent, but it's not serious.

For your part, you lick the young woman greedily. Her pussy is an aphrodisiac today, you can't do without it. Rosé grabs your hair and starts straddling your face. Phone still in hand, Rosé films herself straddling you.

"Watch how he eats my pussy."

Rosé lovingly strokes your hair.

"You see, Jennie, Oppa's too busy licking my pussy."

You could almost laugh at Rosé's jealousy. Playfully, you grab her ass and press her pussy against your mouth.

"Fucking look, I love it so much. "

With your tongue, you lick everything possible. Her lips, her hole, her clit.

"I love it so much when you eat my pussy. I'm going to cum so hard in your mouth. "

With your hands you spread her buttocks and titillate her asshole.

"Oh fuck. Take care of my holes. "

You put pressure on her holes and Rose is nothing but a mess. Still filming you, the young woman straddles your face. She picks up the pace and you can feel that Rosé is not far from cumming. You decide to go faster with your tongue and without warning, you feel Rosé's pussy contract against your tongue. You receive her full juices in your mouth.

Rosé lets out an almost bestial sound and the young woman nearly smothers you with her thighs.

Realizing this, Rosé pushes herself off your face and lies on your chest. And of course, as a global star, Rosé doesn't forget the camera.

"I came so hard with Oppa's mouth. "

You laugh and stroke her hair. Rosé turns her face to you and smiles.

"Ready? " you ask.

"Always ready. " Rosé replies.

"In that case, give me the phone and get down on all fours. "

Rosé listens, hands you the phone and moves into position. You get up and stand behind the singer. Like a porn director, you zoom in on her buttocks and pussy.

You slap her ass and Rose moans. She glances over her shoulder at you and you fuck her pussy. With your hand, you spread her ass.

"Look at that beautiful pussy."

You zoom in with the camera and Rosé waddles her ass. You stand up and position your cock in front of her entrance. Rosé's pussy is so wet that you enter easily. The movement elicits a groan from both of you.

"I'm sliding so fucking good in your pussy. You're so wet I didn't even have to strain. "

With the phone you film the movements of your cock in her vagina.

It's worthy of the greatest porn movies. You never thought you'd do it, but here you are. Filming yourself taking one of kpop's biggest stars doggy-style at her request.

"Fuck. I could never do without your pussy. It was made for me. "

Rosé moans. The young woman literally fucks herself on your cock, head against the couch, mouth open, Rosé just a toy at this point.

"Look, she loves it when I do this. "

With your free hand you slap her ass. Rosé screams with pleasure.

"I told you. She loves it when I slap her ass."

You slap her ass again.

"It helps her come. " You say to the camera.

Rosé says nothing, the young woman continues to move her pelvis. You can hear the sound of flesh against flesh. You're lucky you don't have neighbors.

"She's about to come. I feel the walls of her pussy tighten around my cock. "

Rosé nods and increases the pace. You decide to do the same. You pick up the pace and with your free hand you grab one of her buttocks. Your balls hit her ass and your loins propel Rosé limitlessly against the wall behind the sofa.

"Harder! Make me come and come inside me. "

Who are you not to listen to this goddess. You grab her hip with your good hand and place the camera next to her on the table. The angle is perfect. With both hands, you grab her hips and start plundering Rosé's pussy.

"Yes...YES!"

Almost animalistically, you climb onto the sofa, giving yourself a new angle of penetration. With this new angle, you accentuate the pleasure of both of you.

In this position, you totally dominate Rosé. Rosé can do nothing but receive your cock strokes.

But that's what the singer wants, so you speed up your movements.

It's beastly. You're just trying to make her come. And after several strokes, you come together.

The combination of your orgasms is powerful. You feel your legs buckle and you quickly catch yourself before you fall. You've come so much that you feel your cock being expelled from her pussy.

You catch your breath and see Rosé breathless, lying back on the sofa. You also see your cum coming out of her pussy. 

You stand up, grab the phone and point to Rosé's cunt filled with your cum.

"And that's the end. "You say to the camera. "

Rosé is so full that it's spilling out of her pussy. 

With your hand you spread the folds of her pussy and watch your cum fall onto the sofa. 

You put the camera up to Rosé's face and ask. 

"Any last words Rosie? "

Rosé looks at the camera and says to Jennie.

"You'll never have him and his cock belongs to me. "

You laugh and pat her on the ass.

[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?” 

[microqwavve]

roomroot, ceramic jar, house fire

cant write

roomroot full 129 hour tour part I, roomroot full 129 hour tour part II, and roomroot full 129 hour tour part IV

size 53 sphere

uknowme

best: creativity and talent of my community worst: boredhouse

the idea that at any point my decisions are completely cutting off meeting the funniest and kindest people a month in the future Why? guess

i can choose my dreams

one time someone finished a tub of ice cream and we didnt know who so i just went "i did not have edible relations with that ice cream" to my dad

if that emotion is being fucking cool yeah

kisses and hugs?? Go watch a movie, bud

keep suckig his flat chest

sucking toes and eating hairy manass

nothing im not scared of anything

my house

i wish i was good at everything because i have to be

math meth roomroot (bonus! drunk driving)

no. yes. theres absoolutely intelligent life but theyre not like Green Eyed fucks that go I am making love to your fingers ᓭꖌ╎ʖ╎↸╎ ʖ𝙹リᒷᔑ∷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ !¡⚍ᓭᓭ|| ⊣𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷ ⎓ᒷᒷꖎ╎リ⊣ ⎓⚍リ⊣ᔑ∷╎𝙹⚍ᓭ ᓭ╎⨅ᒷ ⎓╎⎓ℸ ̣ || ℸ ̣ ⍑∷ᒷᒷ ᓵ𝙹ʖʖꖎᒷᓭℸ ̣ 𝙹リᒷ ᓭ!¡⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ

the sun

also the sun

i keep a jar of spirits on my shelf and i only let them out to breed with each other so i would say technically yes

u, know, me267

u, know, me268

chrstas tree

Garlic powder 🥰

512 nm wavelength

they call me Neutronius because my dick is that small

as previously mentioned spirits

i dont get sad i either kill something else or kill myself and so far all of my problems have had a solution i can deal with

wd shae stand yott

yeah

1,461

roomroot

when sonmeones mouth is open for a while and it does an occasional glottal click i HAVE to commit an act of violenc

i got a 70% for paranoia on an online personality quiz

what

i thought of an extremely funny joke on a road trip when i was 8 but i held myself back out of the goodness of my heart and that was the peak of my life

wd shae stand yott

wd shae. cool

fingies nails

questions I think would be fun to be asked

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

show us a picture of your handwriting?

3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

what scares you the most and why?

any reacquiring dreams?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what do you consider to be romance?

what’s some good advice you want to share?

what are you doing right now?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

name 3 things that make you happy

do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens?

favourite thing about the day?

favourite things about the night?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

say 3 things about someone you hate

what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

fave season and why?

fave colour and why?

any nicknames?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

are you messy or organised?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

any hobbies?

any pet peeves?

do you trust easily?

are you an open book or do you have walls up?

share a secret

fave song at the moment?

youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

any bad habits?

(this post was stolen from @teenage-mutant-ninja-freak, since it couldn't be reblogged anymore)

[the-modern-typewriter]

The villain, who doesn't typically celebrate much anything gets invited to an event (holiday, gala, birthday, etc) by hero with no strings attached.

This is a Secret Santa snippet gift @snowshowerwriting 😊 Have a great one! I hope you enjoy.

---

“…And I was just wondering if, maybe, if you’re not too busy, you’d want to go with me?”

The villain stared at the hero for a long moment, watching the colour slowly creep up the hero’s cheeks and all the way up to the tips of their ears.

Snow begin to drift and eddy lazily on the empty rooftop around them.

“Only if you want to,” the hero said. “Sorry. You’re probably too busy, what with being…you. Forget I asked! It’s not a big deal or anything I just—”

“—You want me to go to the peace ball with you.”

“Only if you want to!”

“Why?”

The villain could think of a dozen reasons why, but none of them exactly fitted with their impression of the hero in front of them.

The annual peace ball was a tinsel-strewn, glittering festive affair designed to promote good will across the city by forcing all heroes and villains to join together in a night of absolute truce. No fighting. So help anyone who tried scheming, though of course everyone still did. Good will to all super-powered men, women and others on earth!

The villain had been invited before, in the first few years that the ball was hosted, by a few of the boldest players on either side of the roster. They’d always said no. Never mind that they’d never been much one for making a big deal out of arbitrary times of year. The hero in front of them was not a particularly bold creature, though, heroics aside. Nor were they the sort to want to make some kind of statement.

The hero was bafflingly genuine. Too true to themselves to be of much use in politics, and too powerful for most to want to risk taking a run at them. Powerful enough, certainly, that they didn’t need the villain’s protection or the implication of an alliance between them. Good enough, surely, that the villain struggled to envision a scenario where the hero tried to enlist them over mince pies.

Indeed, as far as the villain could tell, the hero had absolutely nothing to gain by having the villain on their arm.

The hero’s head tilted at the question. “Because I think it would be nice?”

“I’m not nice.”

“Well, no. But it would be nice to spend more time with you. But only—”

“—Only if I want to,” the villain finished.

The hero’s blush deepened. It was possibly one of the most adorable things that the villain had ever seen. Still, the hero stood their ground and waited for an answer, arms folded grumpily against their own overly expressive face.

“Yeah,” the villain said, smothering a smile. “Okay. Sounds…nice.” They kept their voice light. Casual. Their heart hammered in their chest, giving an almost painful squeeze at the bright grin that shamelessly crossed the hero’s face.

“Yeah?” The hero raised their eyebrows. “Nice.”

The villain snorted.

The hero’s grin grew, delighted. “I’ll pick you up at seven? Unless you’d rather meet there?”

“Seven is fine, but I’ll come get you. What address works?”

They made the arrangements, the hero practically fizzing, like they really were looking forward to a night with the villain at their side. No strings attached. It was…well. It was really was so damn nice. There was a rare, warm feeling buzzing in the villain’s chest.

Still.

“You do know you’re going to get hell for turning up with me, don’t you?” the villain asked. “Whatever your reasons.”

“Mm.” The hero made a show of thinking. “I fought a literal mutated snowman last week, but you know what really scares me? Other people’s dumb opinions at the Christmas party.”

The villain found themselves laughing.

“Honestly,” the hero said. “I don’t know how we’ll survive.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You could get hell for turning up with me. Whatever your reasons.”

“It’s cute that you think anyone other than you dares to give me hell about anything.”

“I could be a terrible, hellish date.”

“Oh yeah?” The villain took a step forward, before they could stop themselves. A belated lightbulb flicked on inside their head. “Is that what you are then? My date?”

“I mean—" The hero’s eyes widened. They floundered. They bit their lip, drawing the villain’s attention immediately, and parties were lame but that mouth was absolutely not. “Only if you want me to be!” the hero said. “We can just go as friends. Long suffering colleagues. I’m not trying to—”

“Oh, no. You’re my date, darling. No taking that back.”

“Oh, thank god.”

That time, the villain utterly failed at smothering a smile.

“Oh, crap. I mean—” The hero scrambled for a more eloquent, less relieved, cooler response. They came up endearingly blank.

“Nice?” the villain offered.

The hero narrowed their eyes, playful. “You’re mocking me. Rude.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be very festive of me.”

“Oh, yes. Because you’re such a big fan of festivity and seasonal celebrations.”

The villain blinked, mostly out of surprise that the hero had been paying enough attention to even notice that. Maybe they shouldn’t have been surprised all things considered. The hero was smarter than they let on. “And yet,” they said, “you invited me to a seasonal celebration.”

“Well.” The hero shrugged, mostly managing careless that time. “Limited opportunities to take you out anywhere else. I think people might panic if I just turned up with you for a dinner.”

“We’d be served very quickly. I do tend to clear our restaurants with my presence.”

The hero snorted.

“So what does one do at a peace ball?” the villain asked, voice a murmur.

“There’s food. Drink.” The hero recovered themselves, reaching out and taking the villain��s hand, drawing them a few steps closer, leaving footprints in the snow beginning to coat the roof. Their voice softened too. Liquid caramel. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“You done much of that before?”

“You might have to teach me.”

“Well, we start by you wrapping your arms around me like this…”

The villain might have shivered. The hero might have grinned, humming a made-up tune beneath their breath as they swayed together.

The weeks until the ball flew by.

***

People did stare when the two of them walked in. The villain chose to believe it was because the hero looked absolutely gorgeous, despite their dubious choice of wearing a festive jumper to what was clearly supposed to be a black tie event. The jumper was red and said ‘yule can do it friend’.

Maybe the hero was bold, in their way. The villain definitely thought, in the last few weeks, that they’d underestimated their sometimes-enemy.

There were a lot of people crowded into the city hall venue. Pretty much everyone. The villain abruptly missed their usual peaceful night of strolling around the city, relishing the way that the streets emptied as everyone bundled away to wherever their festivities were.

No panic. No screaming or nervous looks. No chance of some would-be-hero showing up demanding what the hell they were doing.

The hero set a steadying hand on the small of their back, studying their face, and their easy read of the villain’s emotions should have been alarming. It was alarming. It was also…

“You good? Do you want to go and grab a drink?” the hero asked. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t drink in public.”

“They have hot apple juice and hot cocoa too. Some fancy mocktails.”

“You don’t mind that I’m not joining you on the champagne?”

“Why would I?”

Some people, the villain thought privately, minded. They had specific ideas on what a party was supposed to be like and felt judged should the villain deviate from that pre-determined idea. The hero led them through the party, expertly weaving people.

“So?” the hero waggled their eyebrows. “What will it be?”

The villain retreated from the stand with an alcohol-free glass of sparkling. Easy to blend in, even if the taste was nothing special. The two of them watched the room for a while, trying out the various different canapes in the buffet, chatting.

It felt better with the hero at their side. They so obviously knew what they were doing at a party, smoothly carrying conversation with anyone who came over, but not in a way that made it seem like they were schmoozing. It didn’t make the villain’s skin crawl. The hero mainly got excited about and asked for pictures of everyone’s pets. Whenever anyone tried to comment on the fact that the two of them were there together, the hero said cheerily that it was “nice, wasn’t it?”

They’d catch each other’s eyes as whoever it was left. An inside joke. It had been a long time since the villain had been in on an inside joke. With the hero, it was a little thrilling.

Of course, as the evening wore on, there was dancing.

The movements were familiar, after all of the hero’s ‘lessons’ in the lead up to the ball. It made it easy to ignore the rest of the room, and the gaudy tree, and the awkward feeling that they might destroy their reputation for the sake of a party. The hero didn’t care about their reputation, did they? They just did what they wanted to.

“So,” the villain said. “What else does one do on a date?”

The hero’s eyes lit up, better than any fairy-light or candle. They stroked their fingers along the nape of the villain’s neck. The music took the opportunity to change to something slow and intimate, inviting everyone to press a little closer. It should have annoyed the villain, but with the hero in their arms, grinning at them, it couldn’t possibly.

“Well,” the hero made a show of considering. “There’s hand-holding.”

“Indeed.” Their fingers wrapped around each other as they moved.

“And kissing.”

“Ah, kissing,” the villain said. Their gaze dipped, inevitably, to that mouth worth going to parties for. “You might have to teach me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve kissed before,” the hero said, amused. “But I’m always happy to provide a refresher.”

“Part of being a good, heroic citizen I imagine. Helping out the needy.”

“Needy, are you?”

The villain opened their mouth. They registered what they said.

“You’re blushing,” the hero said.

“It’s rude to point it out and mock your date.”

“I would never dream of mocking my date,” the hero said. Then, finally, the hero leaned in to kiss them. Sweet, honeyed, and the warm thing in the villain's chest glowed. They dragged the hero closer, wanting more, more, more. The hero laughed with breathless pleasure and nipped at their lips.

The next year, the villain vowed right then, they were taking their hero somewhere private.

[astonmartinii]

day seven: (christmas) star power | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem primary school!teacher

oh how one lie can spiral

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by yourbff, yourbrother and 204 others

yourusername: so ummmmmmm i pulled the short straw and am in charge of the school's nativity ??? AND THEN made a comment about my 'boyfriend' charles leclerc and now the whole school and WHOLE village think he is coming to the show ...

view all comments

yourbff: are you fucking dumb ???

yourusername: YES

yourbff: you told the headmaster that your boyfriend is CHARLES LECLERC ????

yourusername: i said it in JEST

yourusername: like ooohhhh my boyf charles

yourusername: and i guess that my framed picture of him on my desk definitely didn't help ...

yourbff: you have a framed picture of him on your desk...

yourusername: it was a christmas present from my cousin 😭

yourbff: oh but why would you have it on your desk - you're a primary school teacher all those kids do is ask questions

yourusername: why are you VICTIM BLAMING SO MUCH

yourbff: because you're DUMB

yourbrother: oh they're gonna stone you when they figure out it's not true

yourusername: they should know it's not true ITS CHARLES LECLERC

yourbrother: so you're saying you couldn't just go to monaco right now and pull him? disappointing

yourusername: 1. i'm broke as fuck 2. i am me and he is he

yourbrother: ugh such a skill issue

yourbff: bro it's hit f1twt

yourusername: WHAT

yourusername: who the fuck is on f1twt from our village

yourbff: maybe it was me...

yourusername: REALLY?

yourbff: no you actual dumbass

yourusername: no but for real these people are insane detectives they're going to figure out it's me and i'm going to be CANCELLED

yourbff: lol

yourusername: fuck you.

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 1,034,289 others

tagged: arthurleclerc & lorenzotl

charles_leclerc: just a quiet christmas for the leclercs this year

view all comments

user4: because we're going to somerset right?

user5: does he know he's meant to be in somerset?

user6: does he know what a nativity is?

user7: girl he may be an f1 driver who didn't finish school but he's not THAT dumb

landonorris: why am i seeing that you're coming to my ends for christmas?

charles_leclerc: am i??? why would i want to spend even more time with you?

landonorris: first of all - rude. second of all i have literally seen posters about you coming to the village?

charles_leclerc: what is a village?

landonorris: okay mr monte carlo some of use aren't from a tax haven

charles_leclerc: also when you're this beautiful, people tend to paste your face everywhere, you can't relate

landonorris: even RUDER

landonorris: my young cousin goes to the school and is completely convinced that you're coming to the show and dating his teacher

charles_leclerc: WHAT

yourusername: oh my jesus christ

user8: and if that one girl on f1twt made it all up...

user9: would be the only good thing to come out of that place

pierregasly: what is this i'm hearing of you having a girlfriend? charles i am HURT

charles_leclerc: where are you all hearing all of this stuff?

pierregasly: twitter!

charles_leclerc: oh jesus christ

pierregasly: you've got yourself in a right mess

charles_leclerc: ME?

charles_leclerc: this is clearly the work of a downright lunatic or a lonely cat woman with FAR too much time on her hands

yourusername: oh he gagged me there

yourbff: heyyy you have a dog not a cat!

charles_leclerc: who are you people?

yourusername: NO ONE

user10: what on earth is going on

user11: and WHO is @yourusername

yourusername: NO ONE

landonorris

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri and 1,034,277 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

landonorris: look who came to see me :)

view all comments

user13: holy....

user14: oh charles at the nativity is still so on

user15: my hopes are simply too high now good lord

user16: lowkey hoping this is all one big lie from f1twt that has managed to convince ACTUAL drivers to go to a random village

oscarpiastri: how did he get an invite to the norris house before i did ?

oscarpiastri: do my 'heart eyes' mean nothing to you?

landonorris: no babe i can explain it's for the bit

charles_leclerc: babe?

oscarpiastri: stay out of this old man

charles_leclerc: that's no way to talk to your father

oscarpiastri: my father wouldn't do such things for 'the bit" WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN

landonorris: it's a joke osc

oscarpiastri: so i'm a joke to you? i see how it is

landonorris: NO THE TWITTER JOKE

landonorris: has he just put his phone on do not disturb?

charles_leclerc: he said he's going to bed (it is actually quite late in australia dude)

landonorris: how do you know that?

charles_leclerc: he replied to my text :)

landonorris: WHAT

charles_leclerc: family comes before whatever pathetic crush he has

user17: how have we gotten to this point?

user18: just smile and wave boys this is mental illness on show

charles_leclerc: you're right, having a crush on lando is mental illness

landonorris: then it's time to get your son sectioned!

alexalbon: well this has all gotten a bit serious now - can we get back to the actual reason charles is at your house?

yourusername: @yourbff oh brother this is getting TOO REAL

yourbff: to put it quite kindly you are royally FUCKED

yourusername: i might have to move to another country, change my name and get bangs :(

yourbff: NOT BANGS

landonorris: who are you people and why are you always camping out in our comment sections

yourusername: WE'RE NO ONe

landonorris: WAIT I HAVE MUTUALS WITH YOU?

landonorris: NOOOOOOOOO

landonorris: she blocked me?

yourbff

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 304 others

tagged: yourusername

yourbff: take a good look at her folks because i have reason to believe that if a certain someone turns up at the show she will KILL HERSELF. love you queen, rest in divadom

view all comments

yourusername: this sounds very dramatic

yourusername: but you are correct

yourusername: my life will come to a short and all round inconsequential end tonight

yourbff: it is dramatic

yourbff: but i understand queen

yourbff: your celebrity crush who you have had a parasocial relationship with for years is coming with the express purpose of embarrasing you because he believes you are a sad, sad woman who has created an elaborate lie that you're in a relationship

yourusername: well yeah that sums it up pretty well - you think you could put that on my head stone?

yourbff: i don't think we can afford that

landonorris: i can pay!

yourusername: AHHHHHHH

yourbff: AHHHHHH

landonorris: oh forgot to say but found you! we have a lot of mutual friends lol

landonorris: actually i think my mum and your mum are in the same book club!

yourusername: you're aware this is creepy?

landonorris: you're aware that pretending to be my friend's girlfriend is creepy

yourusername: THERE WAS A GROSS MISUNDERSTANDING OVER MY DESK DECOR

landonorris: sureeeeeee

yourusername: also charles isn't even the only man i have framed on my desk, i have my dog, justin from wizards of waverely place, jason kelce and marc marquez, he's just the one the old lady picked out

yourbrother: now we have actual f1 drivers in the comments, how can we get free tickets from them?

yourusername: so my impending suicide means nothing?

yourbrother: not really. i might take your car if you die

charles_leclerc: so this was all one big scheme to get tickets? there's no show ???

yourbrother: that's what you're focusing on? not that she has a whole town under the impression that you're dating some irrelevant primary school teacher?

yourusername: rude?

charles_leclerc: a primary school teacher? that's cute

yourusername: wait did you think i was just doing the nativity for the love of the game?

yourbrother: who gives a fuck he called you CUTE

yourusername: oh!

yourbrother: she passed out :/

charles_leclerc: i didn't know i had that kind of effect on people

landonorris: oh fuck off of course you do

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,539,056 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: met my long lost girlfriend (and most importantly her dog)

view all comments

user20: omg i do not know how to feel

user21: WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME SHE'S THAT BEAUTIFUL

user22: i 100% thought the gal was gonna at least be in her 40s

landonorris: i guess she puts on a pretty good nativity

charles_leclerc: which kid is your cousin?

landonorris: the lobster!

pierregasly: LOBSTER?

charles_leclerc: @yourusername why was there a lobster?

yourusername: ummmm there's a lot of kids in the class and i was running out of roles? all animals are gods creations?

charles_leclerc: seems sacrilegious but it was cute <3

charles_leclerc: just like you

pierregasly: that was awful

yourusername: SHUT UP

yourusername: thank you charles :)

charles_leclerc: no worries princess x

user23: i am losing my mind ?????

user24: bro got tricked into going to SOMERSET and has actually fallen for her

user25: i mean ... look at her

yourusername: i do also have a cracking personality if i do say so myself

yourbff: oh girl you needed it after i held your hair back three times in the lead up to meeting charles

yourusername: and i will repay you somehow ???

yourbff: well.... now you've charmed a certain someone can we inquire about his pool of friends

landonorris: hi!

charles_leclerc: no not that one he's not cute enough

landonorris: you're really mean

charles_leclerc: @yourbff may i introduce my good buddy joris

landonorris: JORIS ???

charles_leclerc: well i regularly want to throttle you so i think it would be better to go on double dates with someone i actually like ?

user26: charles leclerc is the origin of the sassy man apocalypse

user27: i think the paddock was the start of it all

yourusername: i can't believe this actually happened :')

charles_leclerc: and i can't wait to see where it goes

yourusername: see you for new years pretty boy

charles_leclerc: i think i already know who my new years kiss might be

yourusername: i'm already waiting :3

fin.

note: i hope you all had a fun christmas! i had a great day with my family and am workin hard to get the rest of this series out!

[girlrotterr]

☆ 𓈒 ݁ I wanna hold the hand inside you. ๋ ♩ ⋆ ݁

ellie williams x ballerina! reader Summary: Ellie, an art school dropout working at a bookstore, has a habit of sketching strangers she encounters. One day, she becomes captivated by a rising ballet star practicing at a nearby theater. a/n: Happy holidays, my angels! I'm endlessly grateful for your support and kindness. To show my appreciation, here's a festive little fic to celebrate the season! 🎄

The first flakes of snow swirled against the inky sky, catching the amber glow of streetlights as if they were performing a pirouette in the winter night. Ellie slouched on her stool behind the counter, her gaze drifting to the frost-rimmed window. Outside, the world carried on with its holiday bustle—carolers huddled under lampposts, the tinny strains of their song barely audible over the rush of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. She dragged the edge of her sleeve across her face, smudging lead further down her wrist, and stared at the half-finished sketch in her notebook.

The shop was quiet, except for the soft hiss of the radiator and the muffled strains of an old jazz record spinning in the corner. The Christmas tree, barely taller than her arm, stood crooked in its stand, its few ornaments glittering under strings of mismatched lights. Ellie wasn’t much for festive cheer, but it had been her boss’s idea—a “charming touch” to draw in customers. So far, it hadn’t worked.

The bell above the door jingled, sharp and sudden against the quiet. Ellie glanced up, expecting the usual—a hurried shopper looking for last-minute gifts, maybe another student trying to trade old textbooks for cash. But the figure standing in the doorway was neither.

You hesitated there, framed by the frosted glass, the soft glow from the streetlights catching on the gold buttons of your coat. Snow clung to your hair, melting into shimmering droplets that slid down your scarf. Something about the way you stood—poised yet uncertain—caught Ellie’s attention. You stepped inside, the sound of your boots muffled by the threadbare rug, and the door swung shut with a gust of icy air.

Ellie straightened, wiping her smudged fingers on her jeans. Your eyes flicked around the store, tracing the shelves with a kind of deliberation that made Ellie’s skin prickle. You moved with a grace, like you carried some secret rhythm only you could hear. A dancer, Ellie thought, though she couldn’t explain how she knew.

“Can I help you?” Ellie’s voice came out rougher than intended, the words blunt in the stillness.

You blinked, startled, your gaze snapping to hers. For a moment, you didn’t speak, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your coat. Ellie noticed the way your hands moved, smoothing invisible creases, your knuckles brushing against the buttons as if trying to iron it out. 

“Yes,” you said at last, your voice soft but steady. “I’m looking for an old choreography journal. I heard this store might have it.”

Ellie arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. “Choreography journal? That’s pretty specific.”

You nodded, your expression earnest, and Ellie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. “Right. Follow me.”

You trailed behind her as she wove through the maze of shelves. The air smelled of aged paper and pine, and the faint hum of the jazz record followed you into the back corner of the shop. Ellie scanned the spines, her fingers grazing over faded titles until she spotted it—a leather-bound journal, its edges worn with age. She pulled it free and turned, holding it out.

“This the one?”

Your face lit up, a smile breaking across your features so suddenly and so vividly that it hit Ellie like a sucker punch. “Yes! Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you took the journal from her hands, cradling it like something fragile and precious.

She watched as you moved toward the counter, her fingers itching to grab her sketchpad. She didn’t know what it was—maybe the light catching the curve of your cheek, or the quiet determination in your eyes—but she felt the urge to capture it before it slipped away.

The bell jingled again as you left, the journal tucked under your arm. Ellie sat back down, her fingers already moving, charcoal sweeping across the page in quick, confident strokes. She sketched the tilt of your head, the fall of your coat, the way you had looked when you first stepped into the shop, snow still clinging to your scarf.

When the drawing was done, Ellie stared at it, her chest tightening.

“Should’ve said something,” she muttered, closing the notebook with a sigh.

Ellie’s hands drummed absentmindedly against the steering wheel, the engine’s hum matching the rhythm of her thoughts as she drove down the dimly lit streets. The Christmas lights that adorned the lampposts casted a muted glow over the pavement, reflecting off the windshield in streaks of red and green. She flicked her gaze over to Jesse, her best friend, who sat in the passenger seat with his head tipped back, looking up at the sparse stars through the cracked window.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were starting to like this cold," Ellie teased, her lips curling into a grin.

Jesse smirked but didn’t reply right away, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. After a beat, he looked over at her, his expression softening. “It’s not the cold that’s got me in a good mood. It’s this whole, ‘helping out with your job’ thing. Plus, I get to spend some time with you before I clock in at mine.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "You mean the part-time gig as the world’s most underpaid stagehand?"

Jesse chuckled. “Hey, I’m getting better at lifting things.”

The two of them shared a laugh before the silence settled comfortably between them. Ellie had never been one for big plans, but Jesse’s spontaneity had a way of keeping things interesting, even on cold winter nights like this one.

Pulling into the theater's lot, Ellie parked in the space closest to the backstage entrance, and Jesse threw open the door with a flourish. “Wanna come inside for a bit? They’re rehearsing for The Nutcracker, and I don’t feel like sitting around alone.” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got nothing better to do.”

Ellie shrugged, her hand on the door handle. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got a couple hours to kill anyway.”

The two of them walked inside, greeted by the familiar hum of stage lights and the distant chatter of performers. The backstage area was a chaos of costumes, props, and stagehands rushing about in preparation for the evening’s rehearsal. Ellie had seen it all before—Jesse working his second job, moving props, fixing lights, and usually getting caught in the drama of the theater. But tonight, she didn’t feel like hanging around the cluttered backroom, so instead, she followed Jesse down a narrow hallway, where the low murmur of music seeped out from beneath the door to the rehearsal space.

The room was filled with dancers—some stretching, others running through pirouettes, all wrapped in the familiar warmth of motion and music. Ellie leaned against the wall just inside the door, watching them with a quiet sense of awe. The elegance in their movements, the sharp precision of each turn and leap—it was a world so different from her own, so alien in its grace.

But then, her eyes caught you.

You were at the front of the group, gliding effortlessly across the polished floor, your body flowing in perfect synchrony with the music. There was something magnetic about the way you moved, something Ellie hadn’t been able to shake since that first moment she saw you in the bookstore. She hadn’t known it then, but seeing you now, so focused, so composed—her heart gave an unexpected thump.

You paused mid-step, adjusting the position of your arm as the instructor called for the group to repeat the sequence. Ellie’s breath hitched in her chest as she watched you. She didn’t know much about ballet—hell, she didn’t know much about anything that required that level of discipline—but she knew that you were a star in the making. And something about you standing there in that moment made her feel like an outsider, unsure of whether to approach you or simply watch from a distance.

Her fingers twitched, the urge to capture you on paper bubbling to the surface before she could stop herself. The sketchbook she always carried with her was nestled in the crook of her arm, the familiar weight comforting in its presence. Without thinking, she pulled it free, the pages flipping open with a soft rustle, and she found the nearest bench, settling down with a practiced ease. The dancers continued to move in their own world, their rhythm uninterrupted by her quiet intrusion.

Jesse, oblivious to the change in the air, slapped her shoulder as he walked by, his voice laced with his usual lighthearted teasing. "I’m gonna go clock in."

Ellie gave him a sharp nod, her focus already elsewhere. “Go do your thing.”

He gave her a crooked grin before disappearing into the back, leaving Ellie alone with her sketchbook and the image of you in her mind. Her pencil hovered over the paper for a moment, and then she was moving, sketching you in a flurry of strokes.

The movements were swift but careful, each line drawing out the fluidity in your form—the arc of your arm, the curve of your body as you turned, the elegance in the tilt of your chin. Ellie’s hand moved instinctively, following the rhythm of your dance in a way she never had before, as if the beat of the music pulsed through her own veins. The sketch began to take shape quickly, a blurry but vivid impression of you.

She glanced up briefly, just to catch the way your foot landed on the floor with a light thud before you floated effortlessly into another spin, and Ellie was back to the page, her pencil pressing harder now, as if she could make it feel more real. The slow burn of the sketch was intoxicating—each movement of your body translated into a new line, a curve, a shadow on the paper. There was something about watching you from here, at a distance, that felt so… personal, like she was drawing you in a way that words never could.

Her pencil moved faster as you paused in a stretch, your back arching in a way that made Ellie’s breath catch in her chest. A small frown creased her brow as she captured it, the lines growing more confident, more precise with every passing second. 

You were beautiful.

Ellie bit her lip, feeling a warmth creeping up her neck at the thought. It was like you were a part of the drawing now, and she didn’t know whether that made it feel more real or less. She wanted to show it to you, somehow, but the thought of speaking to you—really speaking to you—sent a quick pulse of anxiety through her chest. 

The dancers were in full flow now, the music swelling with urgency. They executed one complex sequence after another, their bodies bending and stretching with fluidity. But at the front of the room, where you were, the music seemed to swell around you, highlighting every intricate move, every flick of your wrist, every lift of your leg. You were the center of it all—focused, your concentration as sharp and precise as the form of your body, each movement a well-practiced line of choreography.

But then, in the middle of a delicate turn, it happened.

Your foot slipped.

It was almost imperceptible at first, a slight misstep—a mere second of imbalance—but it was enough to unravel the perfection of your movement. Your ankle buckled, the graceful arc of your body faltering. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she watched you lose control, your arms flailing for balance, but your foot twisted in a way that left you no choice.

You crumpled to the floor with a soft thud, the sound of your body hitting the hardwood echoing in Ellie’s chest. A sharp intake of breath escaped your lips as you caught yourself on your hands, but it was clear you weren’t going to recover quickly. For that split second, time seemed to freeze—there was only the sound of your pain hanging in the air, as still as the tension that gripped the room. Ellie felt her stomach drop, her hands instinctively tightening around the edges of her sketchbook as she kept her gaze locked on you, her heart pounding wildly.

The other dancers rushed to your side, their faces a blur of concern and urgency, but Ellie couldn’t tear her eyes away. She felt as if her whole body had gone rigid, her muscles taut with the sudden, overwhelming need to do something, anything—but she couldn’t. She was rooted to the spot, her mind frozen with the image of you crumpled on the floor.

"Shit," Ellie muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper as she clenched her jaw, frustration building in her chest. Her fingers, stiff with worry, drummed against the pages of her sketchbook, but she barely noticed the paper crinkling beneath her touch.

It felt like hours before Jesse reappeared, though it was only a minute or so later. He stepped lightly into the space beside Ellie, his shoes tapping against the floor. He scanned the scene in front of them, his eyes flicking over to where you were being helped up by one of the instructors.

Jesse plopped down next to Ellie, stretching his legs out in front of him and settling in with the ease of someone who had been here a thousand times before. His tone was casual, but Ellie could hear the concern that lingered beneath it, the weight of the situation finally beginning to register in his voice. "You good?"

Ellie’s focus was still completely fixed on you. Her mind was a swirl of confusion, worry, and something deeper she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t know how to process it, how to feel about seeing you like this. She’d watched you dance so effortlessly before. But now, this—this moment—felt different. “I don’t know… I think she’s okay, but—” She trailed off, her voice trailing behind the question, as she watched the instructor gently guide you off to the side. Your movements were slow now, the instructor’s arm around your shoulders, offering what little support you might need.

Jesse leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. He folded his arms across his chest, the casual way he settled back into his seat making it clear that this wasn’t his first time seeing something like this happen. 

“Ohh, her. She’s a rising star, man. You wouldn’t know it from how quiet she is, but she’s a big deal around here. Preparing for The Nutcracker… it’s like, a huge role for her.” His voice softened as he spoke, but Ellie could still hear the admiration in his words, the way he seemed to know something more about you than she did.

Her brow furrowed, her thoughts racing in a dozen directions. 

Jesse’s  gaze shifted back to you as you sat on the bench now, resting your injured ankle. There was a brief pause before he continued, his voice quieter now. 

 “Last year, though… she had a huge setback. Bad performance, all the pressure got to her. She messed up, and it cost her. Big time.” He glanced at Ellie, gauging her reaction, before he continued, his voice more subdued. “She twisted her ankle during the performance. It’s been hard for her to bounce back.”

Ellie’s stomach tightened at the revelation, her heart sinking. “Are you sure she’s gonna be okay?” Ellie asked, her words tumbling out before she could stop them. There was a tightness in her chest now, a knot she couldn’t unravel as she watched you—still holding yourself, but now with a limp, a hesitation in your steps.

Jesse let out a long sigh, his expression softening with something like sympathy. “She’s tough. But… yeah. It’s gonna take a lot to get back to where she was before. The injury’s made it harder to balance sometimes. I think it messes with her head more than anything.” He paused for a beat, his eyes lingering on you, still sitting off to the side, the pain evident in your movements even though you tried so hard to mask it.

Ellie couldn’t look away. The sight of you made something inside her ache, something she couldn’t name. 

Ellie walked into her apartment, the door creaking as she pushed it open, the familiar scent of stale air and dust greeting her like an old friend. The heater was a noisy beast that struggled to keep the cold at bay, but she couldn’t afford anything better, not when every paycheck was stretched thin between groceries, rent, and whatever scraps of art supplies she could scrape together. She sighed, a breath that carried the weight of the long day, as she kicked off her boots. 

The floor was cold under her feet, but it didn’t matter much—everything in this place was a little broken, a little worse for wear. She shrugged out of her coat, letting it drop onto the couch, and peeled off her layers one by one. The thick sweater, the scarf she had wrapped too tightly around her neck, the faded jeans—she tossed them all aside like they didn’t matter anymore. She had long given up on caring about how she looked or how this place looked. No amount of rearranging could fix the fact that it was barely livable.

Ellie crossed the small living room to the heater, cranking it up to the highest setting, watching the way it sputtered to life with a half-hearted groan. The warmth was slow to come, but she didn’t mind the wait. She needed to lie down. She needed to close her eyes for just a moment before the thoughts crowded in.

She dropped onto the couch, sinking into the familiar, sagging cushions. The spot had molded to her body over the years, each depression a reminder of how many sleepless nights she had spent in this place—thinking, drawing, wasting time. Her sketchbook was always within reach, a constant companion even when she hated it, when the pages felt too full of the messy, unrefined parts of herself.

Ellie was a scrappy art school dropout with no grand dreams of gallery shows or fame. After her dad—Joel—had passed, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He’d been the one who held things together, who made sure she had everything she needed, even when things were hard. His sudden death shattered her world, leaving her with no safety net. Without him, there was no way she could afford the tuition. So she quit.

Her shifts at the bookstore paid for the crappy apartment, but it didn’t cover the bills, let alone the art supplies she burned through. Still, she kept coming back. It wasn’t the job she wanted, but it kept her from starving, kept her from getting evicted. Her fingers were always covered in ink and graphite from sketching during breaks, filling pages with fragmented portraits and half-formed ideas. 

Ellie had been lying on the couch, the irritation of the thumping bass from next door creeping under her skin like an itch that couldn't be scratched. She'd pulled her pillow over her head, hoping it would drown out the noise, but it only seemed to make the thudding louder. The muffled music bled through the walls, a constant, annoying reminder of how small and stifling her apartment had become. She felt trapped—trapped by the noise, by the walls, by the life she couldn't quite get out of.

And then the moment came. Another wave of pounding bass rattled the floor, sharp and insistent, until Ellie couldn’t take it anymore. Her frustration built up until it was a tight knot in her chest, and before she even realized it, she was on her feet, storming out of her apartment without a second thought.

Her feet barely made a sound as she walked down the hall, her breath shallow, fists clenched. The door to the apartment was slightly ajar, as if inviting her in, and Ellie, in her agitated state, didn’t pause to knock. She pushed the door open, ready to confront the source of the noise, but then everything stopped.

You were there.

In the soft glow of the moonlight, you moved with a grace that stole Ellie’s breath away. The warm, golden light wrapped around your figure like a blanket, casting your silhouette in a soft, delicate glow. Your body spun through the air, each movement flowing effortlessly into the next, as if you were part of the rhythm of the world itself. Your form was fluid, every line of your body a quiet expression of something beautiful.

She stood frozen in the doorway, her chest tight as she watched. The world seemed to slow down around her. There was no harsh music blaring, no noise at all—just the sound of your movements and the occasional soft swish of fabric. The way you danced was mesmerizing, like you were lost in a world of your own.

Your focus was total, your expression one of quiet concentration, but it wasn’t just your skill that held Ellie’s gaze. It was the way you seemed to move so effortlessly, as if you were floating. You were lost in your dance, your body becoming an extension of the space around you. For a brief, fleeting moment, Ellie forgot everything—the irritation, the frustration, even the reason she’d come here. All that mattered was the way you filled the space with your presence.

God, you're everywhere.

Ellie’s heart thudded in her chest, each beat louder than the last. The thought hit her, unbidden and sharp: fuck, I can’t escape you. You were a constant presence, even if Ellie hadn’t fully realized it until now. In the bookstore, in the theater, in the quiet of her own apartment, and now here, in the soft glow of your world. It was as if fate had tied her to you, whether she liked it or not. And in that moment, Ellie couldn’t decide if she was terrified or intrigued by that pull.

You finished your spin, landing with the kind of grace that left Ellie almost breathless. The room around you felt smaller, quieter, as if your very presence had claimed it..

But then, in that instant, your movements faltered. Your eyes flickered toward her, and suddenly the connection snapped. Your gaze locked with hers, and Ellie felt a jolt run through her body, as if her entire world had shifted. The stillness of the moment was broken by the uncomfortable tension that now hung between them.

You froze mid-spin, your wide eyes betraying a mixture of surprise and fear. The tension in your body was palpable as you instinctively took a step back, your shoulders tightening, your lips pressed together in discomfort. Ellie saw the way you hesitated, a quick breath caught in your chest, as if you weren’t sure whether to move or stay.

You were scared. Unnerved by her presence.

Ellie raised her hands slowly, palms out in a gesture of apology, her voice coming out softer than she intended. “I—I didn’t mean to—your door was open, and the music… I just…” She trailed off, words tangling on her tongue as her gaze flickered over you, taking in the guarded way you stood, every muscle taut as if ready to defend yourself.

The silence between you stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside and the soft tick of a clock somewhere in your apartment. Ellie swallowed hard, the warmth of the space and the sheer presence of you making her feel like an intruder in a world she didn’t belong to.

You folded your arms, your expression shifting from wary to something unreadable. The moonlight poured through the wide windows, catching on the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to your skin. Your hair framed your face, slightly disheveled but effortlessly stunning, and the tension in your jaw made Ellie’s chest ache in a way she didn’t fully understand.

“Look,” Ellie started again, shifting awkwardly, her fingers curling into the strap of her bag. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. I live next door, and the music was… loud.” She winced inwardly at the weak excuse, the words sounding hollow even as they left her lips. Her frustration from earlier had long since dissipated, leaving only a raw mix of nerves and something else—something she couldn’t quite name.

“Loud?” you repeated, your voice soft but edged with incredulity.

Ellie nodded quickly, her cheeks burning. “Yeah. But, uh, you dance… really well. Like, beautifully well.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, your arms still crossed, but the sharpness of your gaze seemed to dull just a fraction. Ellie could’ve kicked herself. Compliments probably weren’t what you wanted to hear from the stranger who’d just barged into your apartment uninvited.

“Thanks,” you said finally, your tone clipped. But there was something in the way you said it—something quieter, almost hesitant—that made Ellie’s stomach twist. The tension in your frame didn’t ease, and you kept your distance, clearly not ready to let your guard down.

Ellie shifted on her feet, the urge to say something—anything—gnawing at her. “Right. I’ll, uh, get out of your hair.” She took a step back toward the door, but her movements were sluggish, reluctant. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, louder than the muffled music still playing faintly in the background.

She hesitated, glancing back at you over her shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” she said, her voice quiet, almost shy, “you’re… incredible. I can tell how hard you work. ”

The tension in your face softened ever so slightly, a flicker of something Ellie couldn’t quite place crossing your features. But you didn’t say anything, just leaned lightly against the edge of a small table near the window. The moonlight caught on the curve of your shoulder, illuminating the quiet strength in your posture, the determination etched into the lines of your body even in stillness.

“Next time,” you said finally, your tone even but laced with a sharp edge, “knock.”

Ellie nodded quickly, a sheepish, almost apologetic smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Totally. Got it.”

Without another word, she slipped back into the hallway, the door clicking shut softly behind her. Ellie leaned heavily against the wall, running a hand through her unruly hair as she exhaled a shaky breath. Her heart was still racing, the image of you under the moonlight burned into her mind.

The faint glow of the Christmas lights bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of colors, soft blues and reds dancing across the walls of Ellie’s small apartment. The space felt warmer than usual, though the heater sputtering in the corner certainly wasn’t responsible for that. It had everything to do with you being here—sitting cross-legged on the floor with a box of ornaments balanced in front of you, a soft smile playing at your lips as you unwrapped another bauble.

Ellie glanced at you from the corner of her eye as she worked to untangle the mess of lights in her lap. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught herself watching you, though she’d gotten better at not staring outright. You’d been coming around more often lately, showing up with little excuses to see her: a borrowed book you’d “forgotten” to return, a leftover pastry from the café near your place that you thought she’d like, even a random bottle of wine to “celebrate surviving another week.”

At first, Ellie had been cautious, unsure of what to make of your easy smiles and playful teasing. But slowly—so slowly she hadn’t even realized it at first—her defenses had begun to drop. You’d found a way to fit into the cracks of her life, easing past her guarded edges with a kindness that felt effortless.

And Ellie, despite herself, had started to let you in.

The moments you shared now felt natural, unforced. Like when you’d taken it upon yourself to help her pick out a Christmas tree after learning she’d never had one. You’d teased her mercilessly about her bare-bones apartment, joking that she needed “at least one thing in here that screamed holiday cheer.” And she’d let you, because even when you were poking fun at her, there was something so warm and genuine in the way you spoke to her, like you’d known her forever.

“Ellie,” you said now, breaking her from her thoughts. She blinked, looking up to find you holding out a small ornament shaped like a snowflake. “This one’s cute. Front and center?”

She shrugged, the corners of her mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “Sure. You’re the boss.”

You laughed softly, reaching up to hang the ornament near the middle of the tree. Ellie couldn’t help but notice how easily you seemed to fill the quiet spaces in her apartment, your presence bringing a lightness to the air that hadn’t been there before.

Tonight felt like another step forward, a bridge you’d both unknowingly been building.

Ellie stood beside you now, her hands tucked into her pockets as she stared at the tree. She was close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from her, close enough that her quiet presence felt like an anchor in the room.

“It’s… not bad,” Ellie said, her voice soft.

You turned to her, arching a brow. “Not bad?”

She smirked, her gaze flicking toward you. “Yeah. Not bad.”

You nudged her lightly with your elbow, grinning as you shook your head. The ease between you was palpable, the kind of comfort that only came after spending hours together—sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional comfortable silence.

Ellie’s apartment, once cold and cluttered, now felt warmer somehow. The pile of sketchbooks on the coffee table no longer seemed like a chaotic mess but a testament to the creativity Ellie carried in her bones. The tree, crooked and adorned with mismatched ornaments, added a glow that felt almost magical.

“Thanks, by the way,” Ellie said, breaking the silence. Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “For, you know… doing this.”

You looked at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. Ellie was many things—sarcastic, quick-witted, and guarded—but moments like these reminded you of how deeply she felt things, even if she didn’t always show it.

“Of course,” you said softly, your smile gentle. “Everyone deserves a Christmas tree, Ellie. Even you.”

Ellie let out a soft laugh, glancing down at the floor. “Never really had one growing up,” she’d admitted, “Joel tried once, but it just… didn’t stick. Felt weird, I guess."

“Guess it’s time to start” you teased, your voice playful but warm.

Ellie glanced up at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The Christmas lights twinkled softly in the background, their glow reflecting in your eyes, and Ellie felt the faintest tug of something deeper, something she didn’t yet have the words for.

But as the silence stretched on, you glanced at your phone, noticing the time.

"I should probably head out," you said, your voice breaking the calm. Ellie looked over at you, blinking as if snapping out of her own thoughts.

"Oh, yeah. I didn’t mean to keep you," Ellie replied, a trace of reluctance in her voice.

You stood, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. "It’s fine. I’m just—" you paused, then smiled. "I’ve got to get back to the theater. You know, practice."

Ellie nodded, walking over to the door with you. She hadn't realized how quickly the time had passed, how easily it had slipped away in the comfort of your presence. It felt almost too good to be true, this—whatever it was between you.

Before you opened the door, you paused, turning back to Ellie. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, everything seemed to quiet around you both.

"Hey," you said softly, catching her off guard. "I, uh, I know it’s short notice, but the performance is next week." You hesitated for a beat, your words coming out a little more uncertain than you’d intended.  “I’d really love for you to come. If you’re free, of course."

Ellie blinked, taken aback for a moment. She hadn’t expected the invitation—hadn’t expected you to even consider asking her.

"Of course I’ll come," she said, a little more quickly than she’d planned, but the sincerity in her voice made the words ring true. "I wouldn’t miss it."

You smiled, the warmth in your expression spreading like sunlight. "Thanks. It means a lot."

With one last look, you opened the door, stepping into the cool air of the hallway. Ellie stood there for a moment, watching as you disappeared down the stairs, your footsteps echoing in the stillness.

She stood there, frozen, for a beat longer than she should have, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

Ellie sat on her worn couch, the edges of her sweater tugged absently as she focused on the task at hand. Her sketchbook lay open before her, its pages worn and filled with sketches that had been born out of moments stolen in the corners of her day. Some of them were hurried, some more thought-out, but all of them were tied to the presence of the girl who had so unexpectedly woven herself into Ellie’s life.

She looked at the sketchbook for a moment longer, her eyes tracing the lines of the last drawing—the one of you, mid-spin, your hair a blur, your focus sharp. The way your body seemed to stretch toward something greater, something just out of reach, resonated with her more than she'd care to admit. The way you'd looked at her that night, vulnerable but powerful, it felt like something she couldn't just forget.

Ellie’s fingers grazed the edges of the book, her mind racing for the right words, the right moment. She didn’t have much, but she had this. She didn’t know how to express what she felt with words, but a drawing? That she could do.

She pulled a strip of brown wrapping paper from a roll on the floor beside her, laying it across the table. Her fingers worked quickly, folding the paper neatly around the book, securing the corners with tape, the sound of the tape cutting through the quiet air like a small, deliberate movement. Ellie’s tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she carefully placed the final piece of tape in place.

The book, now wrapped, felt heavier than it had before. Maybe it was the weight of her unspoken words. Or maybe it was the anticipation of tomorrow—the performance, the moment where she'd see you again.

Ellie sat back, her hand resting on the wrapped gift for a moment. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional rattle of the windows from the breeze outside. She glanced over at the corner of the room, where the small Christmas tree flickered faintly.

She didn’t know if it was enough. She wasn’t even sure if you’d like it, but the thought of not giving it to you felt unbearable.

With a final glance at the tree and the city lights dancing through the window, Ellie slid the wrapped book into a small gift bag, adjusting the top with practiced care. It wasn’t perfect—her hands a little too quick, her movements too hurried—but it was hers. She picked it up, feeling its weight, her heart thumping a little faster than it should have.

Tomorrow. Your big performance. 

Tomorrow, she’d give it to you.

The room was heavy with the weight of unspoken pressure as you stood in the center of the rehearsal floor. The mirrors reflected back not just your movements, but your fears, your frustrations, your self-doubt. The music swelled, a familiar, haunting melody that once had felt like second nature. But today, it sounded distant. Out of reach. Your foot faltered again. Just a small stumble, but enough to make your heart skip a beat, enough to draw the instructor's sharp, disapproving gaze.

"Again, you're off balance," the instructor said, voice cold, piercing the silence like a dagger. You clenched your jaw, trying to steady your breath. The words sliced through you, but you refused to let them break you.

You fought for this role. You had fought for months after the injury, after last year’s disastrous performance that still haunted you like a nightmare. You had pushed your body beyond its limits, rebuilt what had been broken, and now, you were here—fighting to keep this role, to prove you were strong enough. You were enough.

The music began again, faster this time, more demanding. You forced your body to move with it, the rhythm pulling at your every step. Each pirouette felt like it could crumble beneath you, each jump a risk you couldn’t afford to take. Your ankle, still fragile, sent a twinge of pain with each landing, but you fought it back, pushing through the discomfort. Your focus was sharp, despite the sweat beading down your forehead, despite the exhaustion gnawing at your muscles.

You would make it. You had to make it.

"Again!" the instructor snapped, crossing their arms. "You're losing control."

You swallowed hard, grinding your teeth, the bitterness of those words tasting sour in your mouth. Your legs burned, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn't stop.

You spun into the next movement, a leap that felt too high, too far—but you made it, landing with a soft thud that sent a jolt of pain through your ankle. But you didn't falter. You didn't let it show. You pushed through the sting, lifting your chin as you reset yourself. You had to prove them wrong.

But then, as the music paused for a breath, your instructor spoke again. Their voice, though calm, was final.

"You’re getting replaced."

The words hit you like a cold wave, crashing over you and pulling the air from your lungs. Your world seemed to tilt, and for a brief moment, everything blurred. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You forced yourself to meet the instructor’s gaze, but the sting of their eyes was unrelenting. The disappointment was clear, written in the subtle shift of their posture, in the way they avoided your eyes.

"What?" you whispered, your voice cracking, but the question hung in the air like a dead weight, swallowed by the silence.

The instructor didn't respond, just stared at you, impassive. You tried to steady your breath, trying to hold onto something, anything. Your pulse thudded in your ears, but you couldn’t let it break you. Not now.

But they didn’t move. Didn’t soften. Their gaze was colder than you’d ever felt it before.

"You're not ready," the instructor continued, the finality in their tone wrapping around you like a chain. "We can’t afford to keep you in this role. Your balance is off. We need someone more stable."

A dull ache spread through your chest, hollowing you out from the inside. Stable. They might as well have said you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough, not after everything.

"Just... give me one more chance,. you found yourself saying before you could stop it. You stepped forward, but they didn’t flinch. Your hands clenched at your sides, your legs trembling beneath you, but you didn’t let yourself collapse.

But the instructor's response was curt. "The decision is final."

The air in the room thickened, the weight of it suffocating. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only felt your legs shaking as if the floor had disappeared beneath you. You had fought so hard, put everything into this role, this comeback. And now… you were being replaced.

The music that had once felt like a lifeline was now silent, and in its place was only the sound of your own heartbeat crashing in your chest.

"You're done here," the instructor added, turning away, leaving you standing alone in the center of the room, your body trembling and your breath shallow.

The silence stretched on, but it felt like hours. You stood there, fighting against the overwhelming rush of emotions—defeat, frustration, disbelief—and yet, a part of you felt something else, something deep and burning. You were not done.

The city’s stillness hung in the air, thick with the weight of dawn, as Ellie leaned against the railing of her balcony, her breath fogging up in front of her. The faint hum of the early morning felt too quiet, too empty for the chaos that had built up in her chest the past few days. But it was all muffled now, drowned out by the image of you standing there, on your balcony in the freezing cold. It was 5 a.m., and there you were, just... staring into the distance, your body wrapped in a sweater too thin for the chill that had already crept into the world around you.

Ellie’s mind raced, worry creeping in. She had seen you around for months now, your quiet, focused presence tugging at something inside her, something she didn’t want to admit. She could never ignore you, even from afar. And now here you were, vulnerable and alone in the cold, your shoulders hunched against the wind, and all Ellie could think about was how wrong it was. How you should be inside, getting rest before tonight—before everything hinged on tonight—and yet here you were, standing in the dark. Alone.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Ellie called, her voice cracking through the silence.

You jumped slightly at the sound, and when your eyes landed on her, it felt like a punch to the gut. There was something about you in that moment—lost in thought, distant, wrapped in the cold, but so incredibly... beautiful. It was in the way you carried yourself, how you seemed to light up even in the darkness. It was so raw, so vulnerable, it made Ellie’s heart tighten in her chest.

You looked confused at first, blinking at her, then a little embarrassed, as if you hadn’t realized how cold it was out there. “Just... thinking,” you said softly, your voice carrying a layer of fatigue that Ellie could almost feel.

“Thinking?” Ellie’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t stop the concern from bleeding into her tone, the need to pull you inside, to wrap you in something warm. “It’s freezing out here. And it’s... it’s 5 a.m., what are you doing?”

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze dropping to the ground, the quiet tension hanging thick between you both. Ellie could feel it, a thick pulse in her chest, like she was waiting for something—anything—to break the silence.

Then, she noticed the gift bag in your hand, something carefully wrapped, something she had almost forgotten about in the chaos of everything else.

“Shit,” Ellie muttered under her breath, stepping closer to the railing. She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but the words just slipped out. “I brought you something.”

You looked up at her then, surprised, as Ellie held out the gift bag. It was awkward—too much, maybe—but it was all she had in that moment.

“It’s—uh, it’s for the show tonight. You don’t have to open it now, though,” she said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to hide the sudden, nervous flush creeping up her neck. The words were tumbling out too fast, her chest tight.

You took the bag from her, your fingers brushing hers for a moment, and Ellie felt a spark of warmth flood her skin. She watched you, her breath coming a little quicker now, unsure of how to feel about this. You glanced down at the bag, your expression unreadable, before you pulled the tissue paper aside and peered inside.

Ellie’s stomach flipped as you pulled out the sketchbook. She hadn’t thought about how it might feel to have someone open it, not like this. Her sketching had always been so personal, something she kept to herself, but this felt... different. Watching you flip through the pages, her sketches of you—sketches she’d never planned to show anyone—made her feel exposed, too visible. She could hear the soft, surprised intake of your breath as you saw the drawings, but Ellie didn’t dare speak, afraid of breaking the moment.

“Ellie,” you said her name like a whisper, your voice catching in her chest. She met your eyes, her heart skipping a beat at the softness in your gaze. "This is... " There was a pause, and then your eyes darted up to meet hers. 

Ellie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. The way you said her name, the way you looked at her—there was something in it that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as awkward as it felt. That maybe, despite her nerves, it was okay.

“I…,” she muttered, her fingers twisting nervously. “I just... I wanted you to have it. You know, for the show.” She let out a small laugh, but it sounded more like a sigh. “I’ve been sketching you for a while now. I—uh, I wanted to give you something.”

You smiled, your lips curving up in the smallest, softest way, and Ellie felt her heart race at the sight. “Thank you, seriously.,” you said, your voice full of sincerity, and Ellie couldn’t help the flush that spread across her cheeks. It was too much, too real, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to say that,” Ellie muttered, shifting on her feet, her gaze avoiding yours for a moment. “I just wanted to do something for you.  I don’t know, I just... figured you might like it.”

“Ellie," you said, and your voice was steady now, the uncertainty that had clouded your face earlier gone. “Let me perform for you.”

[mimiri22-6]

This reminds me of the first time I ever saved Zelda. My first Zelda game I played myself was A Link to the Past(never got very far in it, I was very young and didn't know what I was doing)and when I, Link, was called to action my mindset was on Rescuing, getting this voice in my head out of trouble.

I don't know if I even registered she was the princess, but I stormed the castle(over and over again because I only played like the first little bit of the game each time)and, as a little boy, got this little girl out of the dungeons and never once thought about her again everytime I left her in the dust.

It's probably the little bit of aroace in me, but even then I was just there on business and had the rest of the world on my mind. "How do I get there, when will that open to me, who is this, what's in this house, what's in these pots" I had the first half hour of that game down to a precision route with the least action taken.

I Really want to finish the original game one day on the same console, but not because I want to see the end, but because I want to see the world. It's why I love botw so much.

All this is Nothing against Zelda, the first time I picked up a controller for smash bros and saw Zelda/Sheik in action she immediately became my main at the time(totally not my genderfluid seeping through. Who said that), but I've always needed to overturn every rock in a game and at that point, to me, Zelda was a rock I already overturned, dusted my hands off and went for the next one.

People like to romanticize the relationship between Zelda and Link in a whole “destined reincarnated soulmates” kind of way, but am I the only one who thinks it would be more interesting if Link didn’t love Zelda?

Like, think of it. Hylia is a Goddess, basically Hylian Jesus, and she loves this mortal man. A hero who stepped forward to defeat a Devil in the world’s hour of greatest need. But, he didn’t do it for her, he did it for the World. Even when he binds his soul to the Triforce, locking himself in an endless pattern of reincarnation with her against the Devil Demise, it’s not because he loves her. He loves Hyrule and its people.

But that’s okay, maybe in the next life they can be?

But it isn’t. Over and over, Hylia becoming Zelda, Link doesn’t love her. He loves Hyrule. He loves to dance to its music and ride its fields and wants to preserve it against the threat of Demise. He loves different women each time, and sometimes it is Hylia’s reincarnation, but they’re never the core of his heart.

It’s always Hyrule that he loves. From it’s savage and arid deserts to the cold and harsh tundra, he loves it, and steps forward to save it each time.

Duty, he calls it. Responsibility and Purpose, but Hylia/Zelda knows the truth. He’ll never love her the way she wants him to.

Hyrule will always be Link’s first and greatest love.

[keferon]

Hmmmm. New infection: Blurr/Swerve

Your writing has radioactive qualities but in a comic book super powers granting kind of way.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

———————————————————————

There was single spark of Christmas in the deepest dark of space. Far, far from the warm fire of Earth.

With the sort of warmth reserved for children’s holiday specials, Swerve and Jazz exchanged small improvised gifts.

Prowl also participated, with all the stone cold concentration of a bomb defusal.

Turns out, there was a decent amount of dropped shanix down various vents that Jazz had gotten a hold of. Swerve helped him pick up a gift for Prowl the next time they stopped at a trade depot. It was some of the most fun he’d had since waking up.

Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again.

Later, Swerve would watch as Jazz helped Prowl loop a striped scarf over his shoulders and across one half of a chevron, laughing and smiling all the while.

Swerve wasn’t jealous. No no no. He really was happy for them! He was! And maybe a little sad.

Prowl nodded at something Jazz said and took his leave to head back to his, their hab suite. Jazz jogged over to where Swerve had been slowly been drilling a pen into the drawing pad Jazz gotten for him.

“So you going to go see them?”

Swerve abruptly dropped the pen and flattened a hand over the sketch he’d definitely not made of the person he totally wasn’t thinking about.

“Whaaaat? No, no I’m sure they’re fine. Not! That I was still thinking about him! THEM.”Swerves optics darted rapidly from Jazz to the drawing, making sure any evidence was fully concealed.

“Besides, I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve.” He said a bit more seriously, remembering Jazz’s current isolation. Unlike him, Swerve could visit Earth whenever wanted.

“Actually, Prowl was talking about some silent holovid earlier, so we were going to watch it tonight. It’s cool man, go check on your boo.”

Jazz looked, well, happy. And his field (wow, Swerve was still mind blown that humans had those the entire time) reflected that.

Swerve did a poor imitation of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you’re totally sure.”

Jazz put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet a little, “Hmmm, you could always join Prowl and I for the holovid. You know, the one we’re gonna watch together? Inside his room?”

HA!

Hahahahhaha!

Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl.

The Christmas Shopping was enough.

With Jazz’s blessing, and Prowl’s glaring, seriously he could feel it through the wall, Swerve wished them a Merry Christmas and went to his room. Just a little bit quicker than necessary.

———————————————

Blurr’s hospital was one of those really fancy ones that looked more like a hotel room from the right angles.

There were simple decorations, extra furniture like a nightstand and a small couch, as well as fairly thick curtains framing a large clear window.

Christmas lights were strung up outside, adding to the ambient glow of the city lit up below. Snowflakes drifting through the air fuzzed the details. Made everything a little soft.

Swerve zeroed in on closing the curtains out of habit.

“Leave th-“

Swerve shrieked, nearly clipping through a wall with how hard he jumped.

Lying on his good side on the couch, Blurr merely blinked at him slowly before finishing his sentence.

“Leave the curtains open, please.” He pulled a blanket that didn’t look thick enough a little more securely over his shoulder.

Blurr didn’t resume looking at the falling snow, instead he took Swerve in with a half lidded eye.

“So are you my ghost of Christmas past, present or future?”

Swerve was uncomfortably reminded of how he looked at the moment. Colorless, grainy and mostly transparent. Slowly, he turned up the sliders on his holoform. “Heh, uh, option D? None of the above?”

Blurr didn’t have an IV in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on some other form of painkillers. Either way, he seemed a little more aware than what Swerve was prepared to deal with.

So why was he moving to get Blurr a better blanket?

Eh, he probably won’t remember this, but his recovery will. Swerve rationalized. He thinks I’m a Christmas ghost anyways, it’s just a dream to him.

When Swerve was almost out of sight, he was stopped by a small, “Stay?”

Swerve stayed.

He shuffled where he stood, Blurr continued to look at him. Slowly, the former racer tried to sit up.

Swerve was there right away, moving softly as he helped him up. In order to support Blurrs weight as best as possible, Swerve ended up sitting halfway onto the couch where Blurr had been laying.

Blurr placed a hand on his arm for support, and when he was most of the way upright, Swerve felt him sigh and rest all of his weight onto his holoform.

Comfortable.

Trapping him.

Holoforms can’t explode right?

Swerve was living both his greatest fanfic dream as well as his second greatest real life nightmare. He really, really hoped holoforms couldn’t explode. Fuck knows he’d put this poor man through enough.

How many layers of guilt were there again? There’s the initial parasocial idolization thing. There was the time Blurr saw all of his destroyed merchandise. So he thinks Swerve hates him. Did. He did actually hate him. Not really, but he wanted to. Oh and then Swerve left him for dead! Because he treated him like he wasn’t an actual living person who could feel fear! Or pain! Or. . . Alone.

On Christmas.

Swerve got a little more settled onto the couch, letting Blurr use him as his personal cushion a bit more comfortably. Leaning his head on his shoulder, Blurr was watching the snow again.

“When I was a child, I spent every Christmas at a ski lodge to the north” Blurr spoke quietly enough that the silence stayed resilient.

“I’d stay up late, watching the snow drift down through the mountain lights for hours. It felt a lot like this.” Blurr’s eye was fluttering more and more the longer he spoke. Each time it closed, Swerve could see the effort it took to open again.

Blurr, readjusted his body one last time me. Then mumbled. “You’re very warm for a ghost.”

Swerve, desperately, wished he could remember a single smart thing he’d ever written. “I got a slider for that.”

Swerve was going to find the self destruct button.

Blurr snorted a genuine single laugh. His eye had closed and he’d stopped fighting. Gradually, Swerve felt him breath a little slower, sinking into him and the couch. Swerve held still, until all the screaming, embarrassing panic in his mind resolved into white noise.

Swerve stayed for as long as he could. And when his time was almost up, he carefully lowered Blurr back onto the couch. Getting him a thicker blanket, and a non-Swerve pillow, for Christmas.

———————————————————————

- SSTP

"Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again."

LMAO

"Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl."

AHAHAHAJFJGMGJGKRJ WHEEEEEEZE HELP

ANON. SSTP. DEAR. MY TREASURE. MY SWEET NUCLEAR POWER PLANT OF A WRITER. I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM. BOTH JP AND BLURWERS. YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS TO BE THIS FUNNY AND CUTE /J

Also The scene with Blurr is just SO cozy auughhggj I wanna wrap them both in a blanket and send to the magic ski resort where nothing bad ever happens*

[drowning-rabbit]

a drawn-out lullaby: spencer reid x artist!reader

an extension of my artist!reader and spencer headcanons, found here

word count: 0.8k

summary: fluff; you gift spencer an early christmas present in the hopes that it will help him fall asleep

“i know you can’t sleep, spence.” your voice rang out into the silence of the pitch black bedroom. it had been the only sound for hours - other than violent shuffling from the other side of the bed.

spencer winced back at you, half-taken over by his exhausted body and half-cursed awake by his brilliant mind. he shifted every five minutes, unable to quiet the constant drone of thoughts. every time he shut his eyes, visions of past memories flowed through them like a motion-picture movie in high definition. so far, nothing could lighten the weight settled permanently on his chest. that was the unfortunate downside of his career choice. spencer can’t forget.

it was hard to quiet your own mind with the frosty air poking at every exposed piece of skin. it kept you awake. his apartment was older, so the single pane windows frosted over on the coldest days. the ache of seeing spencer restless didn’t help. you knew it got harder around the holidays, since he usually couldn’t make it back home to visit his mom. the nightmares would come more often, and spencer began to dread sleep. you placed a hand on his exposed shoulder to keep from startling him.

“can i give you a christmas present early? i think it’ll help,” you whispered in fear he did happen to fall asleep.

he hummed back in question, still drowsy. when you paused, he lifted his hand to cover yours and give it an affirming squeeze.

“can you roll over for me?” you asked softly and squeezed his hand back.

he turned to lay on his stomach as you rose from the bed, digging through the closet for a minute before triumphantly raising a grocery bag in the dark.

the rustling of plastic caught spencer’s attention. he opened his eyes as you poured three black markers out onto the nightstand.

“i thought i could try drawing, on your skin. you were talking about that study you read the other day, about the benefit of repetitive motion for falling asleep. like how adults have an easier time sleeping when they’re rocked to sleep like babies or something? and i looked into it so i thought maybe the motion of the felt tip on your skin would help you fall asleep? my mom used to trace on my back with her fingers when i was little, and i always loved that and if you don’t like it it’s okay, they’re skin safe and-“

he brought a finger to his lips to quiet your rambling before running the same hand through his messy hair. he was baffled by the fact that you had researched for his benefit, to help him sleep. every remedy he had found in studies for nightmares and insomnia was insufficient. he had given up, but you kept trying. it was only three markers, but he felt so seen and so loved.

“i love you.” he whispered, “so much that i will never be able to fully express it to you.”

“you think it will help? i love you too,”

“as long as you’re sure they’re body safe and nontoxic. i trust you and i adore you. and i think your research is sound and i’m quite exhausted so i’m willing to try anything.” spencer closed his eyes again in defeat, too tired to tell you all the things he normally would.

so you uncapped one of the markers and pulled the blanket down to his boxers. he shivered slightly from the icy december air. you ran one hand down his back a few times to calm him before beginning to draw.

the doodles came mindlessly. first a little star in the center of his shoulder blades, followed by the branches, needles, and trunk of a christmas tree.

spencer flinched the first few times the marker grazed his skin, but he kept to his word and trusted you as you continued. the tree received a little garland and a few ornaments as you tried to create a smooth rhythm.

when you finished the bow on the first present, you felt spencer’s breathing deepen. before long, an entire christmas tree marked the length of your boyfriend’s back. the image raised and lowered with every even breath he took.

“spence?” you spoke almost silently, but received no response. assured he was asleep, you finished the drawing with i love you scrawled beneath the wrapped gifts.

finally. spencer’s endless thoughts had been overtaken with his need to rest. his body had drifted into sleep, just as you thought it would when you spotted the markers in the store. you loved spencer with every inch of your body. you wanted him to feel safe with you the same way you did with him. if all it took was a few strokes of a marker, you’d happily spend the rest of your life recreating the louvre on his skin.

with the cap on the marker and the blankets pulled up over his back, you crawled into bed next to spencer. as you drifted into sleep, you felt him find your hand and lace his fingers through yours.

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

The father had turned on the night light. The flickering orange glow lit the hallway like a torch, so the darkness wasn’t what troubled the child.

He’d tucked each beloved stuffed animal into the child’s bed, careful not to lose any of them beneath the comforter lest they become fearful of the dark. The boy had seen it himself, so that wasn’t the cause of his woe.

Had the father checked the closet and beneath the bed for monsters and thieves?

He combed through the night’s events, then nodded. Yes, he had. He’d even checked the toy box for signs of the great green eyes or dagger-like claws the boy was afraid of.

“What is it?” the father asked finally, cradling the sobbing child close. “Did I forget something?”

The boy choked on words. His pajamas were wet with tears, and his pale blue eyes didn’t meet the father’s gaze.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be mad,” the father said. Had the child been hurt? Had he done something he was ashamed of?

The father flipped through every possible scenario he could think of and came up empty-handed. What was troubling the child so?

The man had never had a child before. He’d read every book he could get his hands on, attended first aid and childcare classes, gone so far as to watch Internet videos about raising a child—which, of course, he’d never admit to anyone. But, with all his knowledge, why couldn’t he find an answer to the distress?

Was it due to the child’s parentage? His thin curls and pale, pale eyes had been the sign of something different even before the round of his ears had gone.

He’d found exactly one confidante who knew what the child was. Who knew what to teach the child about, what things the father needed to know, what he could do to protect the child until his true parents returned for him.

But, after nine years, the child’s parents had not yet returned. The father could see on the elven teacher’s face that even she didn’t know if the parents would ever come back for him.

“It’s not common,” she said once, “for my people to abandon their young in the mortal world. I can only presume something happened to them. Until the boy is of age to return to our lands—until he is able to make that journey—”

The father knew what she was going to say. “—I am responsible for his safety,” he finished.

And so that was that. He was the father of a fantastical child until that child came of age.

Yet, even after nine years, the father rarely knew the right thing to say and do. He wiped the child’s tears and pushed his hair from his forehead now, and the child still cried.

After a long, endless moment, the child looked up, and his face crumpled. “I don’t want you to die.”

Ah.

The breath caught in the father’s throat.

The teacher must have gone over that with him.

The fact that the human race was nowhere near as long-lived as the elves was not new information to the father. He’d turned it over in his head again and again.

Even if he did live as long as the child would, it wouldn’t make a difference. The child had his own life and people to return to once the time came, and the father would return to prior things.

It was no one’s fault. Both things—lifespan and other lands—were mere truths of the small family’s existence.

Mere truths that, even so, felt insurmountable at the moment.

“I will die long after you return to your land,” the father said gently. “You will hardly think of me.”

The boy cried harder at that. “I will think of you! Every day!”

“But it will not be thoughts of my death. You will think of the stories before bedtime, burnt pots of macaroni, and staying up to watch the stars. You will think of drives to the park and learning to read.”

The boy sniffled, though his tears had slowed. “But when you die, I won’t know.”

“And there is no reason to know. I would much rather you think about the things like…” the father thought for a moment. “Like when you got scared of the teddy bear’s shadow in the nightlight!”

The boy laughed.

“Or when we didn’t bake the cake long enough and it fell apart on our forks. Chocolate slime!”

Another laugh, this one louder. “Or when you pretended to be Santa but your beard fell off?”

“Yes!” The father let boy from his arms. “Exactly.”

The boy offered a grin, albeit a tired and watery one. He slid off the bed and stood still for a moment.

“So it will be alright?”

“Of course it will be. I won’t let you forget those things,” the father answered. “Now, go to bed. You have lessons tomorrow.”

The boy obeyed, stopping at the door for only a moment to do the special wave he and the father had made up.

The father returned it in kind, and then the door shut. He listened for the soft patter of footsteps back to the boy’s room, and, once they disappeared, he gave a sigh of his own.

Without the orange glow of the nightlight, darkness seemed to engulf him entirely.

Things would be alright. The child was only a temporary part of his life, and soon enough the father would be back to things as they had been nine years ago.

Things would be alright.

He would have to convince himself of that. He’d allowed himself to care too much for the child, hadn’t he? And now he was breaking at the thought that none of it was truly real.

Things would be alright.

He’d always known that it was temporary, so how had he gotten here, so far into the role of father? How could he simply forget this, let it fade into the mundane day-to-day?

It was what it was. That’s how it was always going to play out.

For now, he could continue as things were. Nothing was changing.

Things were going to be alright.

They would have to be.

You're a single human parent of a Elf child, today has you ready yourself for bed you hear them burst open the door with tears in their eye as they jump into bed with you and hold onto you tight, has you comfort them you hear them say through their whimpering and sobs "i don't want you to die".

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 WHY CAN'T I FIND NO ONE LIKE YOU?

IN MY HEAD, WE BELONG , STREETS. DOJA CAT

WARNINGS. SMUT, cheating, fuckgirl!billie, innocent!reader, cunnilingus, bathroom sex, boyfriend!oc, fingering, hickeys, praise, language, slight manipulative!billie, and drinking.

SUMMARY. you broke up with billie a few months back, yet you can't seem to get her out of your head. it doesn't help your situation when she shows up at a party you and your boyfriend were hosting.

WORDS. 4.5k

LETTERS. AAAAA MERRY CHRISTMAS(IF YOU CELEBRATE)!!! HERE'S FUCKGIRL!BILLIE AS A LITTLE PRESENTTT

"it's just one drink, babe," your boyfriend urges with a playful nudge to your shoulder, his own alcoholic beverage in his right hand.

his left hand is occupied around your waist, fingertips running along the smooth skin that you crop-top revealed, "live a little! don't be a scaredy cat." vincent yells over the music, a grin coming across his face.

you shake your head with a smile, his words flipping a switch in the competitive side of your mind, "i'm not a 'scaredy cat,'" you scoff, and without a second thought, you reach for the large bottle of vodka pushed far back on the counter.

"think i won't?" you challenge him, your nerves coming back to bite as you watch him shake his head.

"pass me one of those cups," you say, quickly grabbing it from your boyfriends hand as he gives it to you. your eyes dart along the counter, catching sight of a half-full cup of (what seems to be) sprite. keeping that in mind, you fill the empty cup with the vodka in your hand before setting it back down.

with a deep breath, and one final look at vincent, you shout, "vince, watch ou—!"

his entire body turns in an attempt to shield both you and himself, and when he does, you swiftly switch the places of the two cups, gripping the cup of sprite in your hand and bringing it to your lips. you flick his shoulder, catching his attention once again, "yeah, let's go, y/n!" he calls, hyping you up with words of encouragement.

you finish the cup with one last gulp before setting it down onto the marble counter again, fighting the urge not to throw up due to the carbonation. you get hit with an attack of coughs, and vincent is quick to laugh it off while rubbing at your back.

"holy shit. i didn't think your ass would actually do it." he chuckles, tone full of amusement and almost no concern.

"whatever," you roll your eyes, straightening yourself and watching as your boyfriend pours himself another cup. his, what, third one? but, of course, in his defense, 'it wasn't vodka, so what harm could it do?' a lot, to his surprise. you, however, wouldn't even bat an eye if you found him passed out on the edge of the pool or in the bathroom over the toilet.

with no words and a kiss to your cheek, he snuck off into the sea of drunk teenagers and sweaty bodies, leaving you alone with the many horny couples that all decided to make out in the kitchen of all places. so, instead of staying, you fill up your empty cup with water and begin to carefully manuever yourself around the crowd, apologizing left and right each time you even grazed someone with your arms or body.

you only make it to the hallway of your boyfriends bedroom whenever you notice that all of the rooms are occupied because of either a. the moans, or b. the doors are locked.

you let a sigh out, leaning back against the wall and closing your eyes to maybe escape reality for even just a second if that was possible. and you were successful until one of vincents friends showed up to bother you.

"'ay, you're vinny's girl, right?" he asks, voice deep yet somehow heard over the obnoxiously loud music.

you nod hesitantly, unsure of why that would be the first question he asked because vincent's friends had to have known your name by now, "right, right, well—okay, are you down to light one up with me and the guys?" he inquires, his lips curving into a dopey smile to showcase his perfectly white teeth.

you never understood why boys like this threw away their futures on stupid things like drugs and alcohol.

"i don't smoke," you answer, shrugging with a soft, apologetic smile(although you weren't sorry at all).

"hey, can you tell vince i'm gonna be heading out soon and that i'll be somewhere around the front, please?" but, even with your clear dismissal, he doesn't budge, rolling his eyes with an amused scoff.

"come on, girl, you can either come and tell 'em or you'll leave without a goodbye kiss."

he pushes his lips out in a kissing motion, imitating a kiss as he moans suggestively. the action makes you cringe, your fingers gripping tighter around the red solo cup in your hand, "lets go, yeah, baby?" the nickname only pushes you further, your comfort getting more and more destroyed by the second, "no, i think i'll stay here..."

his facial expression switches to one of pure anger and annoyance at your resistance, groaning before finally reaching out to tug on your wrist, "vinny never told me you were so god damn stubborn," he grumbles, his strength overpowering your own attempt to stay put.

"hey, i said no!" you yell, but your call is a mere whisper in the crowd of loud shouts and booming music.

the tall guy drags you to the back patio before you make an effort to defend yourself, splashing the leftover water you had in your cup in his face the moment he turns back to see if you were still there. his grip loosens for a moment from the shock, but when you try to wiggle free, he's quick to tug you forward and make you stumble back, "i—you fucking bitch!" he roars.

his loud yell catches all eyes in the backyard, and some partygoers standing by the backdoor even stop and stare. there's still the slightest look of bewilderment on his face, but it's soon masked with anger as he feels the droplets of water slide down his face and neck. he swipes his eyes with his hands, clearing his vision so that he can see you again.

"who the fuck do you think you are, huh?" he asks, voice deeper than before to show his anger.

he steps closer to you, his tall figure towering over your own as he practically barks curses into your face. what you don't expect, however, are his next words, "you're lucky you're a woman 'cause i would'a beat your fuckin' a—!"

"so what? just because she's a woman doesn't mean she couldn't rock your shit."

as fast as the attention was on you and the boy, it's passed to some random girl twice as fast. some 'random' girl you know all too well, "this doesn't concern you, billie," the furious boy scoffs with a shake of his head, trying to shrug her off. but billie won't shake, of course she won't.

"nah, i think it does." she pushes, stepping closer.

she didn't look nearly as intimidating as he did due to her height, but you knew exactly how much of an effect billie's gaze had on people, "don't think i didn't see that shit, that stunt you pulled? i see everything, so don't fuck around." billie warns, tone strong and never shaking, "leave the girl alone, dude. she doesn't wanna buy whatever fuckass thing you're selling."

"can you shut the—?" he begins to speak, but billie is quick to butt in again, "hey, wait... didn't you get called out on your shit last year for selling fakes?" she makes an uneasy face, whistling quietly before catching the look on his face. billie just laughs in the poor boys face because now, he just looked pathetic.

he grabs billie by the collar of her shirt, her chains getting caught between his fingers and bringing their bodies closer. you just stand there and watch, confused and still angry as the boy whispers something into billie's ear that is either a bunch of curses or an apology. with one final glance back at you, he stomps off further into the backyard, shaking his head.

now that all the attention is gone and the chatter starts up again, billie finally gets the chance to properly greet you with her signature smile, the silver gems on her teeth on full display for you and any other person who dared to pay close enough attention. when she takes a step closer, you grip your cup again.

"woah, okay, don't splash me now." billie chuckles, putting her hands up in surrender as she takes a few more cautious steps closer.

despite your nerves, you still join in on the playfulness, "you're lucky there's none left in here." billie smiles wider at your words, taking it as a sign that she can come closer. you don't even realize that she's pulling you into a hug until her perfume reaches your nose. the perfume you were just about to forget about until billie came in like a knight in shining armor.

unlike you, billie had yet to even forget your body language—a language she was far too familiar with. she breathed in, getting the faintest smell of your shampoo and the sweet, floral perfume you always wore. it only changed when billie came out with her own perfume and you wouldn't wear anything but it. then, multiple accidents happened, and...

here you were. two exes reconnecting at a party you really thought you wouldn't see her at.

"you're not supposed to be here," you mutter, hesitantly pulling away from her embrace. your eyes seem more sad than angry now, and you're sure that billie's the only one who would ever notice. not even vincent knew when you were angry. he was just so careless at times, but he treated you well, "why are you here?"

billie's smile becomes smaller, but it never goes away, "not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that douchebag?" she laughs, cocking an eyebrow and letting her hands rest at her hips. her eyes pick up on the way your lips twitch up, but you never give her the satisfaction of your smile—the smile that she longed to see after all these years.

"i know." she sighs, eyes never leaving yours. you hated how good she was at maintaining eye contact, "just wanted to reconnect with you, ma."

your gaze flickers down to the chains that hung around her neck, noticing the way she toys with them to calm her nerves. you completely drown out her words along with the inaudible chatter around you as you notice the old fairy tattoo on her hand, complimented by the silver rings on her fingers, "you listenin'?" her hand drops back to her hip, and her voice catches you attention again.

a nod of your head is all she needs to know that you, in fact, were not listening. she repeats herself nonetheless, staying silent about the fact, "i saw that you got with vincent a while back," she mutters, biting her lip as if she can't stand even thinking about it, "hope you know what you're in for, y/n." she shrugs the sentence off purposely, trailing off onto some other topic that was completely irrelevant.

"billie, what?—what do you mean?" you ask, voice quiet and a little weary. you had no idea what she was on about.

she pauses, trying to fight the smirk that threatens to take over her face once again. the worried look across your features is all she needs to know that you've walked right into her trap. she had a love-hate relationship with the gullible side of you, "just that... vincent is kind of known for bein', uh—untrustworthy?" she whispers, eyes locked on yours.

your heart rate picks up, the cup in your hand almost completely crushed, "what?" you mutter, voice barely audible.

"he cheats." she states boldly. she almost feels bad for doing this to you, but... she needed her girl back, "no wonder he's not with you right now," billie accuses, "probably off with some chick in—" you're quick to cut her off with a shake of your head and quickly spat words, "billie, stop!" you whine.

and she does, but it doesn't last long, "i know the truth hurts, y/n." her voice is filled with fake sympathy, but you don't know that. you're too focused on the implications that she made just seconds earlier, "i'm sorry." she frowns, tilting her head and opening her arms for you to fall into. but you don't. you stand your ground, tears threatening to build because her words actually sounded believable.

"i'm here, y'know." she speaks, voice soft as she beckons you into her arms. when you glance into her beautiful blue eyes, you break immediately, dropping the cup from your hands and falling into her arms. her warmth envelopes you, and suddenly, it feels like you're right back to square one with the girl—like you're falling right back in love all over again, "it's okay,"

her words are sweet, but her face is the exact opposite. if you saw the twisted smile on her face, you would've known that this was all a trap, but your thoughts were all over the place, and you really needed her right now.

she nuzzles her face into your hair, breathing you in, "you can do better than him, any way." she knows exactly what she's doing, but she won't admit it, "and, y'know... i'm available." billie shrugs, tone still soft, "if you need a friend, of course."

you pull away, but not fully, keeping your arms around her waist so that she wouldn't leave. your faces are inches away, and you can feel the way her breath fans over your lips, plump and pink just how you remembered. her eyes flick down to your own pretty lips, finding it quite hard to keep herself under control at the close proximity you had her at.

this was wrong. you didn't even know if vincent was cheating, and you were still in the arms of your ex-girlfriend. but, then, why did it feel like it was meant to be? like you shouldn't have broken up with her all those years ago?

then again, she was also guilty of cheating on you with not one, not two, not three, and not even four—but five girls. all of which she'd been sneaking between every other day. but that hadn't crossed your mind even once tonight because... she could've changed. no—she did change.

you hoped.

you hoped she changed because you just kissed her. you really hoped she changed because now you were exchanging saliva in the middle of the backyard. you really, really hoped she changed because now she was guiding you through the rowdy crowd of teens and dragging you upstairs.

you really, really, really fucking hoped she changed because she was pushing you in the bathroom of your boyfriends house and locking the door behind her. you couldn't believe you got this far with her. with billie. your ex-girlfriend.

she's quick with her mouth and hands, multitasking as her ringed fingers slip under your skirt and massage your thighs, all while her tongue leaves a trail of fire from your lips to your neck. her plump lips suction onto your neck, and you squirm. just as sensitive as she remembered. your own hands are busy tugging at her beanie that you're growing to hate due to it restricting you access to her soft hair.

you yank it off her head out of frustration, throwing it aside on the bathroom counter that was filled with your makeup products and some of your boyfriends hair gel and whatever the hell else he used. billie's quick to rid the counter of all of it in less than a minute, though, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up onto the cool marble.

the way she looks up at you through her lashes, blue eyes so soft yet so dangerous. this was dangerous. it was so dangerous that you were falling right back into her, lips pressing hungrily against her own. her tongue easily slipped between your lips, groaning eagerly as your muscles clashed, fighting for dominance. billie won easily, her triumphant laugh muffled against your mouth.

"billie," you whisper, words slurred due to the exchange of saliva with your ex, "bill—" she just huffs with a shake of her head, head lowering back down to the crook of your neck, continuing her slow torture on your skin. her teeth sunk into your skin, smile growing wider at the way you whined. so needy for her.

her tongue soothed the bite before moving on to the next spot, creating an array of hickeys along your neck that definitely wouldn't be able to be covered with any amount of makeup.

your hands were still in her hair, tugging painfully hard. billie didn't care. she just wanted to make you feel good again—make you hers again. her eyes flickered all across your neck as she pulled away, smiling proudly at her work before her eyes moved back to you. her own hands snaked further up your thighs, ringed fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, all while keeping eye contact.

maybe you didn't hate it as much as you thought.

"really?" billie gasps, an amused look plastered on her stupid, sexy face. hanging from her index and middle fingers were the lacy black panties she bought you the day before yoi broke her heart, "still wearin' them even while you're with that little boyfriend of yours, huh?" she muses, stuffing them in her back pocket for everyone to see once you and her left the confined space.

your face flushes pink, biting your lip and tugging her closer by her hair, "just touch me already..." you whine, not being able to look her in the eyes anymore. not that you were doing very well at that in the first place, "please." you add. you knew how much she hated whenever you had no manners, "bills, please."

she chuckles at your needy tone, hands coming back down to part your thighs, granting her access to your dripping core. you held your skirt up upon hearing her mumbled request, your other hand still tangled tightly in her dark brown strands. her fingers ran through your wet folds, biting her lip at how soaked you were.

she cursed under her breath, inhaling deeply to ground herself before she quickly discarded her rings and let them drop onto the counter with quiet thuds. her fingers were back on your cunt in seconds, parting your lips and teasing you just because she wanted to. your little gasps and whimpers were anything but quiet, and they were music to her ears.

her index and middle fingers slowly pushed into your hole, exhaling shakily at the wet sound that echoed in the rather large bathroom. your walls were so tight around her digits, but they fit so perfectly inside. almost like you were meant to be together.

in her head, you two belonged together.

"wasn't ever able to find someone as perfect as you," she mutters, eyes glued to the way your pussy swallowed her fingers so willingly, so easily without any resistance.

she shakes her head at all the memories, some of which were so scattered she couldn't even remember the girls' names. but that's not what she was focused on right now. she was only focused on you. only you could satiate her needs, her hunger, "found it hard to find someone like you," she whispers, leaning closer to kiss your cheek.

"'cause nobody could ever compare." billie breathes, listening carefully to your strained moans and soft whines of her name, "nobody." she makes her point clear with a curl of her fingers, the pads of them rubbing against the special spot inside of you that she had no trouble finding.

your own fingers curl around the fabric of your skirt and the dark strands of her hair. the way she was speaking made you feel like you were the only girl in the world, and the way she was touching you... it made you crazy, absolutely feral for more and more of her.

babbles of her name fall from between your lips repeatedly, the plump skin swollen from how hard you were biting down. she was gonna kill you if she kept this up.

a knock on the door did nothing to stop billie's movements or her mouth from working you up. nothing would ever hold her back from making you feel good. not even if it meant somebody finding out what you two were doing because, frankly, she didn't care.

all she cared about right now was getting you off and getting you back.

"doin' so good for me. such a perfect, obedient girl." billie praises, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, making you look into her deep blue eyes. the smile paired with it only further pushed you toward that edge, "y'missed me?" she teases, biting her lip as she pumps her fingers in and out of your pussy at a quicker pace.

you nod mindlessly, head blank of all things except for billie. when her lips met yours again, you melted into her touch, crying quietly against her mouth from the pleasure. you loved it when she was like this—so soft and so nice to you, so caring of your needs even though you two were broken up.

"tongue—'m'want your tongue," you murmur between moans, panting harshly from how close you were getting. you held it back, although it seemed impossible, because you wanted—you needed to cum on her tongue.

fuck your boyfriend, he wasn't even a thought in your mind anymore, and billie was quick to notice as soon as you began—or attempted—to push her head down.

billie raised an eyebrow in amusement, her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she gave you a bashful smile. she didn't know why she was getting all nervous so suddenly, but it definitely had some connection to the way you pleaded with your eyes—the eyes that she was always getting lost in.

so, without having to hear another word, she dropped to her knees on the hard tiled floors of the bathroom. her jeans did nothing to break her fall, but she wasn't worried about the bruises that would form on her knees the next morning or the scuffs that the tiles would leave on her pants. she was only worried about not having enough time with you, worried that you might come to your senses and leave her again.

not that she wouldn't be able to get you back, but the thought was still scary.

her fingers caressed your walls so gently, moving at a pace that wasn't too slow or too fast, a pace that was perfect for the both of you. when her lips wrapped around you clit, though, it felt too little and also too much all at the same time. billie was making you lose it completely.

you let your skirt fall atop of her head, too fucked-out of your mind to hold it anymore. now both of your hands were pulling her closer by her hair, nails scratching her scalp both soothingly and painfully, but she loved it. gosh, she couldn't think of anything that felt better.

"fuck 'em." billie murmured, the words not getting to your ears but the vibrations going straight to your throbbing cunt. she shook her head back and forth lightly, her tongue moving along with it, flicking over your clit perfectly. your thighs were shaking, threatening to close because you were almost off that edge.

the wet, squelching sounds of her fingers slamming into your pussy echoed in the large bathroom, filling both yours and billies ears. it only added to the sounds of your moans, and it was driving billie insane—she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop herself even after you came, "bab—billie, billie, billie!"

"'m'cumming—gonna cum all over your face, bills!" you warn, voice shaky and high-pitched.

she barely heard what you said, but by your tone, she was told all she needed to hear. the speed of her fingers picked up, and she sucked on your clit even harsher than before, eyes fluttering shut and just listening to you.

she would listen to your moans every day if she could.

her hands squeezed your thighs comfortingly, urging you to cum. she needed it, maybe even more than you. when your breaths came out in short gasps and your body shook furiously momentarily, she smiled proudly.

as you came down from your high, she continued to lap at your pussy, fingers slowing to help ride it out for a few seconds. a whine sounded from her throat whenever your hands began to push her away, but she pulled back with a disappointed groan. your eyes widened in adoration when you finally got a look at her face.

your slick was dripping down her chin, her lips swollen eyes pouty from having to stop so soon. nonetheless, she gave you a dopey smile, her blue eyes so pretty and blue you were scared that you'd drown in them. not that you'd mind, anyway.

her fingers slid out you slowly, her eyes trained on yours to see every little reaction you made. billie's smile only grew when she showed off her fingers, slick with your sticky cum. when she spread her fingers, it made a web between them. a quiet curse fell from her pretty lips as she brought them closer to her lips, her free hand squeezing your thigh again.

now it was your turn to be utterly mesmerized. billie's lips parted as she pushed her own fingers inside her mouth, sucking on them in such a lewd manner. you pulled at your skirt, wrinkled from how hard you were gripping it earlier—something your boyfriend was definitely gonna comment on later—but it didn't matter. you couldn't continue to lead him on after getting fucked and falling back in love with your ex.

billie's plan worked, and you knew nothing about it.

"just as sweet as i remember." she states, drying her hands on one of the many towels your boyfriend had hanging behind the door. you almost felt bad, but when billie turned back to you with the sweetest smile on her face, you forgot all about it.

before doing anything else, she grabbed her beanie from the floor, putting it on her head and not even bothering to fix it before turning to you again.

she took your hand in hers, helping you hop off the counter and onto your feet again. when you stumbled, billie caught you instantly, hands gripping your waist tightly and pulling you closer to her, "woah, okay, maybe you're not in the best condition for walking." she jokes with a laugh, eyes scanning over your half-annoyed-half-happy face.

"good thing i'm here, right?" in one swift movement, she's carrying you bridal style, a smug smirk playing on her face.

you roll your eyes at her teasing words, but as she begins to move, your face drops. your hands are gripping at her neck in an instant, scared that she might drop you or something. but, her grip is tight, and she's holding you with more care than your boyfriend could even express, "relax, ma."

the nickname makes your heart flutter, eyes snapping to billie's only to find yourself falling even deeper in love—if that was even possible.

yeah. now you were sure you'd never find anyone like her.

TAGS. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @afteraftercare @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @karaeilishh @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia @hopelessfawn @zayluvss @meliciousmel13

[backfliips]

Answered below the cut:

How many fics have you worked on since January?

I've worked on 9 since January, one of which I'm still currently working on and will be working on for the next few months, probably.

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

A lot of things! I think the biggest one is alternating perspectives.

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

Baldur's Gate 3, obviously, haha.

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Just the one, BG3.

What ships captured your heart?

Mostly Wyllstarion, but I also wrote Minscstarion and Halsin/Ulder Ravengard LOOOLLLL..... crack ships taken seriously are so good to me

What characters captured your heart?

Wyll mostly, and also Astarion.

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

Yes, all of the ones I've listed so far! The newest ones were Minscstarion and Ulsin LOOL I sort of was the flagship for both of those.

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What's Become of You, because that was the first long-form creative writing project I've ever done! I'd only done short stories before then, and then I sat down and churned out a novel-length fanfiction. it meant a lot to me to know that it was something I'm capable of.

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

Probably also What's Become of You, but all of the fics I've written have made me super happy. If they didn't make me happy, I wouldn't write them. Right now, the fic I'm working on (titled "Sorry For Your Loss") is really making me excited too, but I won't be posting it for a while.

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

Again, What's Become of You.

What fic was the most difficult to write?

The one I'm currently working on. Where What's Become of You basically already had a whole plot outline because it just follows the entire plot of BG3, Sorry For Your Loss is far more original and has required SO much outlining and re-outlining and re-re-re-outlining, and I've redone so many chapters from the ground up because I wasn't happy with them. It's been a real challenge, but it's one that I'm really excited to keep conquering >:^)

What fic was the easiest to write?

Keep Talking, for sure. That one's just brainless smut. Of course, that's made it my most popular wyllstarion fanfiction HAHAHAHAHA.... but that's how these things go.

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Shortest was Keep Talking, longest was What's Become of You.

What were your go-to writing songs?

The "deep focus" playlist on spotify hahahahaha I can't listen to stuff with lyrics much when I'm writing, and a lot of other background songs end up distracting me. Honestly, 75% of the time I'm just writing in silence.... or to the sound of a busy crowd. (Don't worry, I don't write anything NSFW in public.)

What was the hardest fic to title?

Health Potions (Or: If Only Someone Here Knew Cure Light Wounds). That one was a toss up, and as you can see, I still couldn't choose between two titles lmao

What's your favorite title of the year?

Probably A Haughty Spirit (Goeth Before a Fall) because that's a bible verse I chopped up and that just cracks me up a little bit. I have the title for an eventual sequel planned if I ever write it, which would be "To Be Humble (In Spirit with the Lowly)."

Share your favorite opening line

Do chapter opening lines count? Here's a sneak peek from Sorry For Your Loss.

Share your favorite ending line

Another chapter ending line from Sorry For Your Loss.

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

"He was the best-dressed homeless man in the city. Of this he was sure."

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

While working on my latest fic, a certain conversation went in a totally different direction than I planned, but I ended up really liking how it turned out. I had to go back to the drawing board for a couple things later in the story because of it, but I think it's way better this way.

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

Google Drive mostly. I like to write things on paper when I'm outlining, or when I'm feeling stuck. It keeps me from deleting things, and I care less about getting it Perfect that way.

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Finishing What's Become of You, definitely.

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

No, I wanted to get a cake for What's Become of You, but I had plans that day and that ended up being fun enough that I didn't feel the need to get a cake.

How did you recharge between fics?

Laying on the floor. I don't actually have a recharge method, I just write when inspiration strikes me.

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

Oh, yes. So much fanart lmao.

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

Just one! Wyllstarion Secret Solstice event, but I did art instead of writing for that one.

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

@foxflowering definitely!! She really helped me improve my writing so much and she was such a fantastic editor for What's Become of You.

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Keep writing Sorry For Your Loss, really.

What would you like to write next year?

I want to finish Sorry For Your Loss and do a couple more short-form Wyllstarion pieces. I have ideas! Lots of ideas!!!!

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[lowkeyerror]

Help With The Curriculum Pt 4

Agatha x Rio x Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Notes: Smut, choking, fingering, cunnulingus, daddy!kink, mommy!kink, dacryphilia, dirty talk, edging, mentions of overstimulation, begging degradation, praise

Summary: Rio gets herself a chance with you and Agatha. The only caveat is that she has to follow instructions and even then, she might not get a reward.

An: The Ao3 curse hit me, but part 4 (potentially last part) is here, hope you like it.

Previous Part | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Y/n, wake up.”

You groan, snuggling further into Agatha’s warmth. She chuckles a bit, scratching the top of your head.

“Baby, you have to let me get up. I have to go home.”

That only causes you to hold her tighter, “No.”

She sighs, “I have class later, I have to go home to change.”

“Wear mine,” you mumble against her collarbone.

“You’d love seeing me in your clothes, wouldn’t you?”

You pull away from her and wipe your eyes, “What time is it?”

“6 am.”

You shake your head, “We’re college professors, 6am is high school teacher hours Agatha.”

“Well, I need time to go home and get ready. Someone didn’t want to let me go last night,” she gets up, causing you to sit up right in your bed.

“It was late, and besides your legs could’ve given out on the way over,” you tease her.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “Funny, I’ll see you on campus.”

“Wait,” you get out of bed clumsily, she laughs at your movements. “Let me walk you out.”

“Adorable.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you lead her to your front door.

“I have a gap around 2, if you want to do lunch?” She suggests and you nod.

“I’d like that,” you smile at her.

“Text me your order, I’ll pick it up,” she says and for a moment it feels like you’re both prolonging the goodbye.

You kiss her sweetly, not really wanting to stop, “You need to go before I take you back to my bedroom.”

You push her lightly out of the door. She starts walking to her car, but she turns back half way just to blow you a kiss. A small chuckle escapes you before you shoo her away with one last movement of your hand. You wait for her to drive off before going back inside your home.

Since you were awake so early you decided to make breakfast and get ready for work. By the time you were dressed and finished eating it was time for you to go.

Today was the day of the exam, so it was going to be relatively easy for you. You arrive to your classroom a bit early to make sure everything is set for the exam.

“Exam days always seem to drag on forever,” you lift your head at the sound of her voice.

“Professor Vidal, what do you want?” Your voice is dry when you speak to her.

“Think I made that quite obvious yesterday,” she stalks her way over to your desk.

“And why would I reward such a brat?”

She puts her hands behind her back and tilts her head. Her eyes get big and glossy, “But I’m a good girl.”

You could see why Agatha would easily cave in to the woman. She is hot; her body is damn near perfect and her beauty is undeniable.

“No you aren't, because here you are begging me like a needy slut. When we both know you should be talking to Agatha, instead,” you give her a pointed look.

“She doesn't want me anymore,” you hear a vulnerability that you aren't sure she meant to convey.

“Who said that?”

Rio frowns, “She did, literally yesterday. She told me to move on.”

You sigh taking a bit of pity on the woman, “Listen Rio, your problem is that you push too far. Agatha can't handle you being a brat all of the time. I don't think she wanted to end things with you, but if you're never going to listen to her, what's the point?”

“And you listen to her?”

You nod, “Of course, I listen to her, she listens to me.”

Rio focuses on the ground, “She listens to you. She never let me- I wanted to be in control sometimes.”

You cross your arms leaning back against the chair, “Sounds like a reward. I wonder if you could earn it, somehow?”

It's Rio’s turn to sigh, “I need to talk to her, don't I?”

You nod, “I think it’d benefit you.”

She groans, but make her way towards the exit, “You know, I'm not all bad Professor L/n.”

“I know, but you have some lessons to learn. Hopefully rewards to gain, Professor Vidal.”

When she leaves your eyes linger where she stood. It felt like she was the embodiment of temptation. You could imagine what she looked like bare, her look playful, and eager. You’re sure that her neediness clouded any sense of obedience in her body.

When the class piled in you gave them the exam instructions. While they were testing, you let your mind wander to what you could do with Rio. How you could help Agatha tame her.

You were thinking about it until it was time for lunch. Agatha said she would meet you in your classroom.

“What did you say to her?”

Agatha sits the food on your desk.

You shrug, “I told her she needed to talk to you, why?”

Agatha begins to take out the food, “She apologized for being such a brat all the time, said that what we had was important to her, and that she didn’t want to lose it.”

“And what did you say?”

Agatha sighs, “I told her that I wanted to believe her.”

“But…”

“But she would have to prove that she could be good.”

You take a sip of your drink, “And how should she do that?”

Agatha’s eyes met yours, “I was hoping you had some ideas.”

You smirk, “I’ve been brain storming since she left my classroom. I was thinking, maybe we could put on a little show for her, but the rules prohibit her from touching. If she lasts, she can have a reward, but if she can’t… we can give her a very memorable punishment. Thinking either edging or overstimulation. Depends on her attitude.”

Agatha levels with you, “I doubt she can hold out. I mean I doubt that I could if I was watching us fuck.”

You lean back in your chair, “This test isn't about her obedience, it’s about her willpower. I want to see how quickly she cracks, if she’s remorseful, or if she’s going to be disrespectful. If she meant what she said to you, she will try her hardest. Tell her to meet us Saturday at your place. I assume she knows where you live.”

Agatha snickers, “Why do I hear some jealousy in that last part?”

“I told you, I’m not fond of sharing. Don’t worry though, I plan to work through that when Rio’s watching me make you all desperate. I know what she wants from you Aggie, and I’m going to show her how much you love when I give it to you,” your jaw twitches slightly.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she begins to eat her food.

The days seem to pass slowly as anticipation builds inside of you. You’re excited but you don’t necessarily know if that’s appropriate. In truth you wouldn’t describe yourself as a naturally dominant person but something about being with Agatha and something about the thought of being with Rio really made you want to take control.

With Agatha there was much more of a give and take nature to your encounters. Sometimes you would be in control and sometimes you’d crumble under her gaze. However, with Rio’s needy eyes on you, you didn't know if it would be appropriate to crumble.

This time would be somewhat of an example for any times that would occur in the future. It was like you were setting a precedent for how things would unfold and whatever kind of relationship you decided to pursue. There was a lot of confliction inside of you the moment he saw her you did want to put her in her place. You were serious when you said you weren’t sharing but now you didn't know if that was true.

Was it really sharing if you had decided you wanted both?

“I can feel you thinking from here,” Agatha’s hand cups your face.

You’re both in her bedroom waiting for Rio to arrive. You let out a relaxed sigh as her thumb starts to caress your face.

“It feels silly, but I think I’m nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before. I know I was talking a big game, and that was real. I want this, I just don't want to fuck this up,” you admit.

“You’re adorable,” she says.

You whine, “Agatha.”

“Baby it’s not just you in here, I'm here too. I doubt you’ll struggle to preform because you haven't before this. In the case that you do, I’ll be here to get us back on track. Trust me?”

You nod and lean in to peck her lips, “I trust you.”

The doorbell rings breaking the endearing moment. You want to rush to the door but a gentle tug from Agatha has you walking at a slower pace.

“Compose yourself,” she whispers to you before opening the door.

Rio stands on Agatha’s porch in a short sundress. The nerves on her face are present, but she tampers them with a smile.

“Looks a little different than last time I was here,” Rio says peering into the house.

“You know I get bored with décor quickly,” Agatha says stepping aside to let her in.

“And how different is the bedroom?” Rio says slyly.

You speak up, “You should see for yourself.”

Rio hums at your words, making her way towards the bedroom. Agatha and yourself follow her side by side. When you’re all in the room, you’re the one to close the door.

There’s a tension in the air, anticipation of what will happen.

“So…”

“Sit in that chair,” you command Rio, before she can further speak.

She complies, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. You keep your eyes on her, “Good listening, today we’re going to see how long you can keep it up for. You’re going to sit here and watch while Agatha and I fuck. You aren't going to touch yourself at any point.”

Rio’s eyes darken, “And what do I get for sitting here?”

You tilt your head to the side, “Why would you get anything? This isn’t a reward, this is your case to Agatha that you can be a good girl, and follow simple instructions without being a brat.”

“I can be good.”

You grip her chin so she looks into your eyes, “I hope so because I think it would be fun to play with you.”

You kiss her cheek before turning your back to her and heading towards Agatha. You stand in front of her, eyes locked on each other. Your hands find the bottom of her shirt. You raise it slowly giving her a chance to stop you.

She doesn’t, when her shirts off your hands trail up her soft skin. You let out a shaky breath, trying to control your impulses. Your head dips down so that your tongue could swirl around one of her nipples. The other nipple was occupied in between your fingers.

Periodically you look up to take in the details of Agatha’s face. The light moans and delicate tensions on her face are not enough for you. You want more, you start to use your teeth and soon her breathy moans become more fleshed out.

Agatha couldn’t take any more of the teasing, she pulls your face up so that your lips meet. It’s hungry, and you swear her lips get softer every time you kiss them. You moan as she sucks on your bottom lip.

You hear a whimper in the corner of the room and you break from the kiss. Rio looks like she has a sweat building up on her forehead. You pull your shirt from over your head and see her eyes widen as she takes in your body.

You don’t miss the way her hands grip the chair. Agatha hugs you from behind, her hand traveling down your body with no hesitation in sight. You moan, keeping eye contact with Rio as Agatha’s hand disappears into your pants.

“You’re so wet for me baby,” she trails kisses up your neck.

“I need you,” you say bucking into her hand.

She guides you so that your back hits the wall. In a swift movement your pants are down and Agatha is on her knees. She spreads your legs and your breathing speeds up a bit.

You grab a handful of her hair and laugh lightly, “Isn’t this familiar?”

She chuckles the same, “Not until you start moaning professor.”

Her hands rest on your thigh as her tongue swipes through your folds. Your grip on her hair tightens, as her pace increases. She hums in satisfaction, not caring about how far her face is buried into your cunt.

“How you doing over there Vidal?” You manage to glance at her and she looks in utter discomfort. She doesn’t answer, “I asked you something.”

“S-soaked,” she grits out.

“Fuck, Aggie were you starving or something?” You feel your legs begin to shake a little from the intensity of her movements.

She pulls away, “You just taste so good.”

“Should we give her something?” You nod your head towards Rio.

Agatha nods, “Whatever your thinking, I’m in.”

Rio sighs believing that the challenge is over and that she’s won a reward. You smile sweetly at her, “Strip.”

Her clothes are gone in under a minute and she stands eagerly.

“Ok sit back down, you were a little uncomfortable in the clothes,” you speak dismissively before returning your attention to Agatha.

“You want to taste yourself?”

You nod, “And I need those fingers inside of me professor.”

“Suck,” Agatha pushes two fingers into your mouth.

You obey her and as soon as her fingers leave your mouth her lips are on yours again. As your kiss echoes in the room, she slides fingers into you.

You gasp in pleasures as she quickly begins to pump in and out of you. Her thumb finds your clit and you can barely keep up with the kiss. Your head falls onto her shoulder.

“You like when I burry my fingers in you, baby? The way my thumb presses down on your clit? Fuck, I can feel you clenching against me. You going to cum on my fingers that fast? God you’re needy today, or is it cause Rio’s watching? You want her to see how I make you cum.”

You lift your head from her shoulder just enough to look at Rio, “I want her t-to see what she can’t have.”

With her now naked you can see every little twitch her body makes. The look of anger on her face only makes you cum harder. Agatha fucks you through it, and as soon as she pulls her fingers out of you, you’re guiding her towards the bed.

You sit with your back against the headboard and Agatha sits in between your legs.

“Open for me baby,” she follows your instructions opening her legs.

One of your arms secure around her waist while the other rubs small circles around her clit. You give Rio a perfect view of Agatha’s dripping cunt.

“You ever have her like this Rio?”

Your fingers glide through Agatha’s folds in a teasing manner.

Rio shook her head, “N-no.”

You chuckle deeply as you plunge two fingers into her, “Oh Aggie, that's so mean of you. Never opened up for your little plaything?”

“Never earned it,” Agatha says breathlessly.

You can see Rio fix her mouth to say something, but she holds back.

“Speak up bunny, I want to know what's on your mind. You think you deserved something like this?”

Your fingers work faster, intoxicated by the sounds of Agatha’s hungry wet hole.

Rio begins to shake in her spot, “I wanted it so bad.”

“Wanted what?”

Her head drops, “To fuck Agatha. To have her whimpering because of me, to give her so much pleasure that she'd be drunk on it. Maybe, maybe I didn't earn it. Hell, I doubt that I deserved it, but I wanted it. She deserved to be worshiped and I thought that would've been enough.”

You can feel Agatha’s breathing quicken at the words, “If you can't handle instructions, you couldn't handle fucking me.”

Your thumb presses against her clit and she throws her head back. You begin sucking harshly on her neck as it becomes more accessible.

You lick a long stripe along her neck sparing a glance at Rio, “Beg for it Rio.”

She’s quick to fall to her knees unceremoniously. Her legs are shaking and you can see her arousal glistening down them. Her eyes are large and filled with tears.

Her voice is hoarse with need as she speaks, “Please, please. I-I can’t watch anymore, I need to- please. Tell me to do something, I’ll do it. I-I can be good. I can listen. I’ll do anything.”

You can feel Agatha clenching around your fingers as she watches Rio beg.

“More,” Agatha growls at Rio.

“Mommy please, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened. I shouldn’t have been so bratty. I was bad, but not anymore. Please, touch me. Let me touch you. Anything, please,” Rio cries fully now.

Agatha begins to rock her hips against your fingers, “Ask Y/n.”

“Daddy please, I’m sorry for being such a slut in your classroom. I need you, I’ll do better, I’ll be better. You don’t have to share, you can own me. Please, please, please.”

Agatha’s body jerks forward as she cums. Your arm around her waist is the only thing keeping her grounded. You slow your fingers, waiting for her to ride out her orgasm before removing them from her cunt. They find their way into her mouth and she sucks them delicately.

“Come here,” you murmur to Rio.

She stands, quickly walking over to you. You unhook your arm from around Agatha, using that hand to lightly grip Rio’s jaw. She nearly flinches in anticipation from your grasp.

You swipe at her tears with your thumb. Slowly you pull her face towards you while craning your neck up to her. You kiss her and it’s a fragile thing. You can feel her holding back. Trying to restrain herself, from taking more than you’re willing to give.

She whimpers into your mouth and her legs begin trembling even more than before. Your eyes widen and you break the kiss.

“Did you just cum?”

Rio’s face tints red with embarrassment, “I-I-"

Agatha intervenes lifting Rio before tossing her gently on the bed, “God, you’re so beautifully pathetic when you listen.”

“I want to taste her, she wants to taste you. I think we can all be winners here,” you look at the tanned woman in a predatory manner.

“Can you handle it baby? You couldn’t even manage a simple kiss, without making a mess of yourself,” Agatha questions her.

“Please, sit on my face mommy,” she pants out.

You decide to give Rio some relief, “Don’t hold back, but I’m telling you right now, I’m not stopping until Agatha cums again. So if you cum before her, we’re going to keep going, understand?”

She nods the best she can, “I understand.”

Agatha grabs Rio’s wrists, holding them above her. The older woman straddles Rio’s head, not loosening her tight hold on the submissive’s wrists.

“You know the signal if it’s too much,” Agatha speaks tenderly.

Again Rio nods the best she can.

That’s the only sign Agatha needs before fully sitting on the woman’s face.

Rio’s legs open for you with the sound of her sticky cunt echoing in your mind. She is absolutely drenched, you can see her clit twitching in anticipation. You can tell she’s sensitive, but you can’t help yourself.

Without hesitation you got straight to sucking her clit. Her back arches off of the bed, and you have to hold her legs in place. You can hear the low groan she let slip into Agatha, causing the other woman to grind down on Rio’s face.

Every calculated thought or worry that you previously had leaves your head as her taste seeps into your brain. All you want to do is make her cum. You eat her sloppily, not holding anything back. You can feel your jaw growing tired from how obsessively you’re eating her out.

You assume she’s doing the same to Agatha as the woman with the unoccupied mouth has not stopped making sounds since Rio’s face has been in her pussy.

When you finally detach your mouth from the woman, you stay close to her cunt. Letting your breath fan over her as you try to form any type of coherent thought.

“I understand why Agatha let you be a brat for so long. Your taste is so intoxicating baby, I just want to drown in it,” you say as you slide your middle finger into her.

You feel her cum instantly at the sensation and it makes your eyes roll back.

“You close professor?” You ask Agatha who only answers by nodding vigorously. “You’re going to give me one more then Rio.”

Feeling your own orgasm build, you began to feel needier. You want to feel Rio against you. So you change your position so that your cunt is aligned with hers. You hold one of her legs up and begin to grind against her.

The feeling of her hot sticky cunt rubbing against yours is bliss. You could feel her hips bucking into yours and it made you smile sadistically.

“Feels so good when you fuck yourself against me like that baby. Make us cum, like you begged for. Show us how desperate you are. Suck her clit, swirl your tongue around it, graze it with your teeth. Make her cum in your mouth, like the good girl you are. Don’t stop meeting my hips either, want you to show me you can multitask.”

Your words send Rio into a frenzy. She begins to speed up her movements, even though her body is fatigued. She works hard to send you both over the edge and she does.

Agatha cums first her hands abandoning Rio’s wrists to grab a fistful of her hair instead. She removes herself from atop of Rio only to meet the woman in a sloppy kiss. Rio doesn’t stop grinding against you even when fresh tears prick her eyes.

“Make daddy cum, baby,” Agatha kisses the top of Rio’s forehead moving stray hairs off of her face.

You fall apart at the same time Rio does, nearly collapsing against her. Agatha’s arms hold you up so you don’t flatten the woman beneath you. You can feel her squirt dripping down your abdomen, which sends a strong aftershock down your entire body.

“Fuck,” you say rubbing your hand against the mess she made on you.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, exhaustion hitting her like a truck.

You shake your head, “You’re perfect.”

Rio blushes and then cover her face with her hands.

Agatha laughs softly at her behavior, “Underneath all that bratty attitude, is one of the softest girls in the world.”

“You’re just a sweetheart trying uphold some bad boy image aren’t you,” you run your hand through Rio’s hair.

She leans into your touch, “I’m a badass.”

You indulge her for a moment, “For sure. I know plenty of badasses who beg mommy and daddy to fuck them.”

She shoots back at you, “Whatever you say miss ‘I don’t share’.”

Agatha intervenes, “As much as this bickering turns me on. I’d say it’s time to clean up, because I’m going to have to wash these sheets before sleeping tonight.”

“So now what?” You prompt.

“Aggie?” Rio’s voice holds a vulnerability to it, “Can I stay?”

Agatha looks at you, a small uncertainty passes through her.

“Let her stay, the brat is growing on me,” you say, smiling down at Rio.

“She tends to have that effect on people,” Agatha also gives her a small smile.

“We usually just eat and watch tv after the mind blowing sex, so don’t expect too much excitement Vidal,” you say, getting out of the bed.

Agatha follows suit and Rio just sits up.

“I’d offer to cook, but I don’t think I can stand right now,” she laughs.

“Do not worry professor, we’ll help get you all cleaned up,” you send her a cheeky wink, before scooping her up in your arms.

She yelps in surprise, but wraps her arms around your neck so she doesn’t fall.

“Well aren’t you charming?”

You smile, “So I’ve been told.”

True to your words, the three of you clean up. It’s a group effort as you shower, Rio seriously having trouble standing up right. Agatha lends you both some comfy clothes to lounge in and you find yourselves on her couch eating takeout and watching Glee (your request).

“So she sent that girl to a crack house?” Agatha questions.

“It’s inactive,” you and Rio say at the same time.

“You two might just be too similar,” Agatha chuckles.

You and Rio share a look.

“Good taste,” you say at the same time.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “A few hours together and she’s already corrupting you, Y/n.”

“I actually think you might be the biggest brat here Agatha. Lying about needing help with the curriculum just so I’d fuck you silly… pretty brat like behavior,” you retort.

Now it’s Agatha that is blushing and Rio who is cackling.

You smile innocently, taking in the moment. Though it’s unconventional, this is something that you hoped you wouldn’t lose. Moments like these that transcended the bedroom always put it into perspective for you. You wanted to build something with these women. Unbeknownst to you they both wanted that very same thing.

[limethefirst]

UGH MY HEART— I READ THE FANFIC YOU WROTE WHERE THE READER REMINDED SHADOW OF MARIA AND IT WAS SO CUTTEE!! Can I request another one with the same concept? Maybe one where the reader gets hurt in some way connected to the movie’s story line, and Shadow’s scares of losing them? Like how he lost Maria!

Not again

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader [platonic]

warnings: sonic 3 spoilers, mentions of injury, G.U.N shoots a (implied) minor…when don’t they

summary: While trying to infiltrate the G.U.N headquarters, you get caught and are fortunately saved by Shadow after a rough encounter

a/n: this request was challenging for me to think on because I wasn’t sure how to incorporate the reader getting hurt in the story since I didn’t know any moments that made sense but here you go! I’m sorry if it’s not the best but I hope you enjoyed and tysm for supporting my stories!!!

The plan was simple, Robotnik and Gerald would get in and out, while you would infiltrate the GUN base. Unfortunately life had a way of throwing curve balls at you. As you hid behind a wall, opening your computer to try and deactivate some security protocols a stray guard managed to stumble upon you.

“Hey, you,” the guard somewhat yelled, making you quickly snap your head up from your small laptop. You definitely did not look like you belonged here, you were too young compared to most of the other people here who were in their mid 30s to late 40s, “Let me see your badge,”

Oh no, this was something you didn’t prepare for, you didn’t have a badge, you were stuck here. Quickly thinking you set a small distress signal to Stone from the small laptop still held in your grasp, letting him know of your situation.

Nervously you responded to the guard, “Uh I- uhm forgot my ID back home,” you patted yourself down, pretending to look for an ID that you obviously didn’t have. As you did you slowly put the laptop on the floor.

The guard, clearly not believing you, turned on his radio calling for backup. Your mind was racing, you knew getting caught was not an option so the only thing you could do at this point was run.

“You get back here!” You made a quick glance back, seeing as two other men, with actual guns started to chase after you, their weapons raised to you.

There was no way they’d actually shoot at someone, especially someone actively way younger than them.

Suddenly your arm stung, red began to seep through your fake uniform, oh god they were really shooting at you.

You quickly turned the corner running behind a wall, trying to get away. A small lab was close by, maybe you could hide in there and hope they would pass you by.

The door was open by some miracle; quickly slipping into the dark and empty room you made your way to the desk off by the far right and sat down there, covering your mouth holding back the scream you wanted to let out from the burning bullet wound on your arm. It wasn’t a massive wound, not by any means, it was a graze but it was still a gun shot and it hurt like hell. Tears were threatening to spill from your glossy eyes but the fear of making noise kept them at bay.

You heard the door creak open, light footsteps echoing in the room. They were nearing and you had nowhere to run, surely they wouldn’t kill you, that wasn’t morally right but they shot at you, well you were trespassing on government property so you weren’t sure what they’d do.

You heard a creak to your left; they’d found you. You saw the man reach for the electrical handcuffs but before he had the chance to grab them a sudden flash of red caught you by surprise.

Shadow had found you as well, you watched him take down the three men. He teleported throughout the room, confusing the men. He began to teleport between the men, going from one to the next, landing a hit on each before he did it again.

You sat there, your back against the wall, your breathing was heavy, your eyes wide, fear lacing your every feature.

Once Shadow had finally finished he turned back to you, his stoic and angry gaze quickly falling, his eyes widened as he quickly made his way over to you. He gently but urgently grabbed your bloody arm, his face a mix of anger and fear.

He was normally very neutral, the only thing on his mind revenge, but currently all he sensed was fear. This scene was all too familiar to him, it reminded him of those terrifying moments he had so many years ago.

As Shadow held a tight grip on your arm, the tears that were brimming your eyes had finally fell, you tried to choke the sobs but all the adrenaline had finally wore off. Shadow looked around the room, finding some gauze that he then used to wrap around the wound.

Once he had stopped you could no longer hold yourself back, you quickly grabbed onto Shadows torso as you sat on the cold dirty floor, your face red with tears and snot. Shadow stood still, he was enraged, long ago GUN had taken something he cared about, and once again they tried to take something else.

He slowly let his arms wrap around your shaking figure, he knew how to comfort people, he’d done it with Maria before, but it had been so long.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Shadow quietly comforted, his words didn’t do much but you knew you could trust them. So you just sat there, as Shadow waited, remembering what it was like to care and comfort someone.

[revelboo]

Ahhh Clumsy Heart is everything!!! (And Point of Extinction too, I’m a sucker for Shockwave and Soundwave) Omg I love it so much! <3 I know its only 2 parts so far but I cannot wait to see how this develops! (No rush tho, take ur time /gen)

I love your writing so much!!! <3

Have silly Shockwave and smaller Shockwave [also if u squint u can see my Shockwave model kit torso in the background too, I just have the legs left and its finished]

Tiny Shock is so intimidating (and slightly horrifying, because I can just imagine him being pure rage at that size)

Clumsy Heart Pt 3

Soundwave x Reader, Shockwave x Reader

• He doesn’t understand as Soundwave just keeps crooning at you, the sound broken and miserable. Painful as it makes the chaos of jangling memories in his processor worse. Venting softly, Shockwave watches Soundwave stroke along your side. You’re causing Soundwave pain, but he isn’t allowed to remove you. Why isn’t he allowed? Watches you look up at Soundwave with frightened eyes, freezing when that stare slides to him and you shudder. Helpless little thing. His processor snares on that, on being helpless. Swearing he can remember being held down by rough, cruel hands, but the memory is a tattered thing, slipping away when he reaches it. Something that never happened even as it leaves him shaking with hatred. A stranger’s memory.

• Big servo stroking over you so gently, your heart races as the other one begins trembling faintly, that one angry optic dimming. And then the one stroking you turns his head, reaches to lay a hand on the other monstrous robot and his antenna flick up. Watching them exchange a look and even though there’s no expression on those alien faces, you have the impression that something’s wrong with the angry one. Tensing as the gentle one grabs the other’s only hand and pulls it to you. You cringe down as he guides the other’s servos to gently touch your head then slide down your spine. Is this why they took you? Are you a stray they found not understanding you didn’t need to be rescued?“Soundwave,” the purple one says, seeming to relax as he pets you. Is that the blue one’s name?

• Keeping a firm grip on Shockwave’s and in case he slips again, he guides the other mech’s servos against you. Knows you were taken for him because Shockwave thought you could replace what he’d lost, because he hadn’t understood, but stroking over you, letting him feel the beat of your little heart is calming down the scientist down. Grounding him. And letting Soundwave trespass in that broken mind, because somehow touching you, coming into contact with your mind is amplifying his ability. Sees that fragment of memory that Shockwave can’t reconcile. A shard of who he’d once been before Empurata. Knows those memories surface occasionally. That they hurt him when they do. They hurt Soundwave, too. Stark reminders of who his friend has been. That Senator Shockwave may as well be dead.

• Venting raggedly as he slides a servo against the fragile line of your throat, Shockwave can feel the warmth of you. Can feel Soundwave’s hand on his, ready to separate him from you if need be. And he’s not sure how he feels about you. A pitiful organic, afraid of them both. Weak. Big eyes stare up at him as you reach a trembling hand to touch his servo, though. Trusting him even though it’s counterintuitive to your continued survival. And that little touch jangles through him, spreading warm in a way that’s almost unsettling.

• Leaning forward, cannon thumping against the surface you’re on, those servos curl partially around you as his antenna go back. “Shockwave. Gently,” Soundwave says in reprimand when you start to panic. And then Soundwave is crooning again, that noise sinking into you, taking the edge off the fear. Dulling it. Servos releasing Shockwave’s hand, you shiver as you’re lifted, closing your eyes as the end of the cannon nudges at you. Prodding curiously, but gently. Wanting to ask to go home. To beg, but too scared to do anything that might upset the one holding you. As he tips your head toward him, you begin to cry.

Previous

Walking, walk, walking away

Just to lift a leg to start is the hardest part

I turn and trip on my clumsy heart

I always trip on my clumsy heart

We, before there was we

She only she, me merely me

Lonely

Lonely only