#data engineer job guide

[olivergisttv]

How to Successfully Prepare for a Career in Data Engineering Now in 2025

In the era of AI, LLMs, and real-time personalization, data is the fuel—and data engineers are the mechanics. While data scientists often get the spotlight, it’s the data engineers who architect, build, and maintain the pipelines that make all those smart decisions possible. If you’re interested in a high-impact, high-demand career that blends backend engineering with business insight, this guide…

[himanshuthemediabuddy]

Unlocking the Future: Why a B.Tech in Computer Science Engineering with Specialization is the Smartest Career Move Today

Technology is evolving at an unprecedented pace. From artificial intelligence (AI) to blockchain, from data science to cybersecurity, the digital revolution is reshaping every aspect of modern life. For students stepping into higher education today, there is one clear path that aligns perfectly with this tech-driven future: a B.Tech in Computer Science Engineering (CSE) with Specialization.

If you're a student aspiring to build a meaningful and future-ready career, or a parent guiding your child’s academic journey, this guide will explain why specialized computer science programs are the stepping stones to success.

What is B.Tech in Computer Science Engineering with Specialization?

A Bachelor of Technology (B.Tech) in Computer Science Engineering provides students with a strong foundation in computing principles, programming languages, algorithms, and system design. What makes this degree even more impactful is the opportunity to choose a specialization—a focused domain that aligns with industry demand and personal interests.

Specializations help students go beyond general knowledge, diving deep into subjects that power today's most innovative technologies.

Common Specializations Include:

Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning (AI/ML)

Data Science and Big Data Analytics

Cybersecurity

Blockchain Technology

Internet of Things (IoT)

Cloud Computing

Augmented Reality and Virtual Reality (AR/VR)

Robotics and Automation

Each of these fields is booming with career potential—and colleges across India and globally are offering specialized tracks within the traditional CSE curriculum to meet this demand.

Why Specialize? The Top Benefits

1. Industry-Relevant Skills

A specialized B.Tech ensures students are learning exactly what employers are looking for. For example, an AI/ML track teaches Python, TensorFlow, neural networks, and data modeling—skills that top tech companies require today.

2. Competitive Edge

In a crowded job market, a general degree might not be enough. A specialization helps your resume stand out, showcasing domain expertise that can fast-track you to better roles and higher salaries.

3. Better Career Pathways

Specializations often lead to defined job roles right after graduation. Instead of applying as a general software developer, you could target high-demand positions like:

Machine Learning Engineer

Data Analyst

Cybersecurity Consultant

Cloud Solutions Architect

Blockchain Developer

4. Higher Salary Packages

With specialized skills, companies are willing to pay a premium. Fields like data science, cybersecurity, and AI consistently rank among the highest-paying tech careers in India and abroad.

Course Structure: What to Expect

A typical B.Tech CSE with specialization program spans 4 years and is divided into 8 semesters. Here's a rough breakdown:

Years 1-2: Core Subjects

Programming Languages (C, Java, Python)

Data Structures and Algorithms

Computer Architecture

Operating Systems

Mathematics (Discrete Math, Linear Algebra)

Database Management Systems

Years 3-4: Specialization + Advanced Topics

AI/ML Algorithms (for AI specialization)

Cyber Threat Intelligence (for Cybersecurity)

Hadoop and Spark (for Big Data)

Smart Contracts and Ethereum (for Blockchain)

Cloud Architecture (for Cloud Computing)

Most programs also include:

Capstone projects

Internships

Research opportunities

Industry certifications (AWS, Google Cloud, etc.)

Career Opportunities and Job Roles

Depending on the chosen specialization, graduates can pursue careers in a wide range of industries:

Popular Roles:

AI/ML Engineer Design intelligent systems, work on natural language processing (NLP), and build recommendation engines.

Data Scientist Analyze massive datasets to uncover trends, build predictive models, and assist business decision-making.

Cybersecurity Analyst Protect systems from cyber threats and design secure networks and encryption systems.

Cloud Engineer Design scalable cloud solutions and manage deployment on platforms like AWS, Azure, and Google Cloud.

Blockchain Developer Build decentralized applications and smart contracts for fintech, supply chains, and more.

IoT Engineer Develop smart devices and connected solutions in healthcare, agriculture, and smart cities.

These roles are not only lucrative but also offer global opportunities, with demand growing in North America, Europe, Southeast Asia, and the Middle East.

Is a Specialized CSE Degree Right for You?

If you have an interest in coding, problem-solving, mathematics, or how technology can change the world, then yes—a specialized CSE program is an ideal choice.

But how do you choose the right specialization?

Here’s a quick guide: Interest AreaRecommended SpecializationLove AI, chatbots, visionAI & Machine LearningFascinated by statisticsData Science & AnalyticsPassionate about securityCybersecurityBlockchain and crypto-curiousBlockchain TechnologySmart gadgets and automationIoT or RoboticsScalable tech infrastructureCloud Computing

The Edunet Educare Edge

Choosing the right program and college can be overwhelming. That’s where Edunet Educare steps in.

With a mission to guide students toward future-ready careers, Edunet Educare provides:

Expert counseling for course and specialization selection

College admissions guidance

Career planning based on aptitude and industry trends

Information on scholarship opportunities

Support with internships and job placements

Whether you’re a student just finishing school or someone looking to pivot your career, Edunet Educare ensures you make informed, future-focused choices.

Final Thoughts: Tech is the Future—Be Ready for It

We are living in a world where AI writes poetry, cars drive themselves, and data predicts consumer behavior. The fourth industrial revolution is happening now, and it demands a workforce that is agile, innovative, and deeply skilled.

A B.Tech in Computer Science Engineering with Specialization isn’t just a degree—it’s an investment in a smarter, more empowered future.

If you want to thrive in tomorrow’s tech-driven world, there’s no better time to start than today.

Explore the complete guide and resources on the official Edunet Educare website, and take your first step toward a future-proof career.

[coco-loco-nut]

Revelations

pairing: Daniel x reader

summary: Daniel casually mentions his wife after 11 YEARS OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Danny Ric comeback. 2025 season, he is back on rbr

request are open pookie masterlist part 2

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Being an engineer for Red Bull was something else. You have been with them since you graduated college, and truthfully you never want to leave, the team is your family, having been with them for 11 years.

You met your husband through your job, both starting at the ripe old age of 23, and despite the potential HR violations, Christian Horner practically set the two of you up on a date after being oblivious about each other’s crushes. Thus began Red Bull’s best kept secret.

“Happy 10 years, Danny,” you kiss your husband, him watching you analyze data. Christian made him promise to never use you as a mole, and the two of you very quickly agreed. Even when he was on Renault and McLaren, work talk was kept quiet. Daniel had a great season last year and was brought back to Red Bull Racing, Christian promoted you to be his race engineer, knowing Daniel would listen to you.

“Happy 10 years, my love,” he hugs you tight. Your children are home in Australia with their grandparents for the weekend.

“Good morning, Ricciardos. Happy wedding anniversary,” Christian greets you, sitting for the pre-race meeting. Christian celebrates your wedding anniversary almost as much as you do, but he is a part of the family. He officiated your wedding at this track 10 years ago today, and he is the godfather of your eldest.

“Good morning, I printed out some data sheets so we can determine strategy. I noticed some unusual tyre degradation, while it could be from the unusually high track temperatures yesterday, it is something we should plan for today,” you start, passing out the papers. Daniel will never not be able to admire you. Sometimes he misses what people say because he stares at you, the exact reason Christian helped get you two together.

“Let’s grab some coffee then go on a track walk,” Daniel holds his hand out to you after the strategy meeting, you happily take it. After your lap around the track, you meet with the other engineers while Daniel warms up and does media. As you are watching the F2 race for valuable data, someone from PR comes over to you.

“Watch this clip,” she says and you oblige.

Daniel, you seem in better spirits than usual, care to share?

I don’t know mate, I am usually a pretty happy person.

Here I was thinking that maybe you finally had a girlfriend

Nah, I don’t think my wife would be happy about that… I wasn’t really supposed to say that. If you are watching, sorry! I’ll make it up to you, love.

Well, I hope there isn’t a couch in your future. Good luck today.

Thanks, but she’s put up with me for 11 years, I doubt there will be a couch in the future.

“Oh, he might have the couch tonight,” you laugh a little, honestly surprised it took 11 years for him to accidentally say something.

“Looking back at all the photos, he is wearing a wedding ring, how did we not see that?” You hear one of the Mercedes drivers say outside the garage.

“You saw the video?” Daniel asks as you playfully glare at him.

“I did. I have a winning strategy for you, so maybe you can move off the couch tonight. Lose and you stay there longer,” you tease. Being his race engineer helps so much because you can subtly say things and no one picks it up, and any interactions between you seem normal.

“Yes, Mrs. Ricciardo,” he smiles and goes to get changed for the race.

Last car in, good luck Daniel

I don’t need luck, I have you guiding my race

Ok, Daniel, whatever you say

The strategy works out well, and planning for the hotter heat was a smart move. Christian hasn’t told you not to race with Max, so you push Daniel for the overtake.

“Come on, honey badger,” you whisper. Daniel has had the better strategy and better pacing, all day so he easily overtakes and keeps the lead through the final five laps.

Okay Daniel, last lap, Verstappen behind, keep the pace.

Does this mean I’m off the couch?

Focus.

Sorry.

And that’s P1, P1 very good, Daniel. Red Bull 1-2. You are officially off of the couch.

LET’S GO! Thank you team! I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thanks for the brilliant strategy, and for letting me off the couch. Best wife ever.

Mhmm. Happy 10 years. Parc Ferme is clear for you, pull in so the team can celebrate.

Let’s just say that F1 TV streaming your radio broke the internet, and the drivers when they all got out of their cars and into the garages. You followed the team to wear Daniel was parking and the team pushed you to the front. Daniel celebrated there with the team, taking his helmet off and kissing you. The team wolf whistles around you.

“Go to the podium, we will celebrate with you there,” you push him in the direction of where he needs to go. Unknowingly to Daniel, Red Bull chooses you to represent them for the Constructors Trophy.

“Mate, how did you keep that a secret?” Oscar asks Daniel in the debrief room.

“It wasn’t much of a secret. Everyone in Red Bull knows most of the relationship,” Max says and Daniel nods along.

“Honestly, I don’t know how people didn’t know,” Daniel laughs. The FIA tells them to start heading out to the Podium and Daniel searches the crowd for you when he steps out, but can’t find you. He’s shocked but extremely delighted when you step out and stand beside Oscar for the Constructors trophy. The mischievous glint in his eye is a loud warning that you will be sprayed with champagne. You happily stand through the national anthems, clap when Daniel is handed the trophy, and beam with joy as you are handed the second trophy. Soon enough you are presented with champagne and the go ahead to spray it is given.

“Max!” you squeal and hide behind him as you both spray Daniel.

“Quit hiding my wife!” Daniel laughs and in a split second, your cover is gone as Max moves to spray Oscar. You and Daniel both pour the champagne in each other’s mouth.

“Ew, that’s almost as bad as if you guys were to kiss,” Max laughs. Daniel gives you a devilish smile, pulling you close to him and capturing you lips with his.

“The kids are going to be so grossed out,” you laugh and Oscar looks almost horrified.

“THE KIDS?!”

[pucksandpower]

hi love!! i’m not sure if you’re talking requests so completely ignore this if you’re not but, i’m in love with your grid kids series and i was wondering if you could do something with the grid kids that goes more into readers line of work?🫶🏼

Grid Kids: She Means Business

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your career as a renowned sports psychologist means you often work with your husband and grid kids

Series Masterlist

Sebastian Vettel: Meet Cute

Red Bull Racing’s pit wall is a hive of activity during the practice session for the Monaco Grand Prix. Engineers, strategists, and everyone in between are glued to their screens, analyzing data and communicating with the drivers.

You’re there in an official capacity, hired by Red Bull Racing to conduct a series of workshops to help the team, particularly the drivers, cope with the mental pressures of racing. With a headset on, you’re mostly observing, making notes on communication dynamics, when suddenly a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

You look up, slightly startled, to see none other than Sebastian Vettel, the team’s star driver, smiling down at you. His mop of hair sweaty and slightly tousled from the helmet he just took off after finishing up with FP2, the impish twinkle in his eyes making you feel … something.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I was just ...” you stammer, suddenly feeling a bit out of your element.

Sebastian sits down next to you, leaning in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think I’m here to see what the mysterious new hire is up to.”

You chuckle, “Well, if you must know, I’m observing team dynamics, communication patterns ... very thrilling stuff.”

He feigns a gasp, “So you’re spying on us?”

“In the most professional way possible,” you reply with a smirk.

Sebastian laughs, the sound genuine and contagious. “Well, I hope we’re giving you some good material.”

You lean in this time, matching his playful tone, “You? Always.”

There’s a brief pause, a moment of charged silence, before Sebastian grins, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smile back, “You should.”

The two of you chat easily, talking about the intricacies of the sport and the importance of mental preparedness.

As the session winds down and Mark Webber also makes his way back into the garage, Sebastian looks over at you, “You know, for someone who’s here to observe, you’re quite the distraction.”

Your cheeks warm, “Is that so?”

He nods, mock serious, “Absolutely. It’s a problem. I think we might need a one-on-one session to discuss it further.”

You laugh, “I’ll have to check my schedule but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Sebastian winks, “Looking forward to it,” and with that he’s off to debrief with his engineers.

As you remove your headset, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This job assignment just got a lot more interesting.

Max Verstappen: Unloading the Past

Ten years later, the Red Bull Racing hospitality suite is buzzing with activity: the clink of glasses, murmurs of conversation, and the distant roar of engines echoing from the track. But in a quiet corner, there’s a space that feels a world apart.

Soft, ambient lighting casts a serene glow, a few comfortable chairs are arranged in a circle, and on the coffee table lies an assortment of fidget tools, from stress balls to sensory mats. This is your corner, specially designed for individual sessions.

Max Verstappen hesitates at the entrance. His eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar setting. It’s clear that beneath that façade of unshakable confidence lies vulnerability.

You rise, offering a comforting smile. “Hey, Max. Ready?”

He gives a tentative nod, following you in. “I’m not ... I’m not sure how to do this,” he admits, voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you assure him, guiding him to a chair. “There’s no right or wrong way. Just start wherever you feel comfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, Max begins, his words tumbling out, “It’s just ... sometimes, when I’m out there on the track, I feel like that kid again.” His voice cracks and he pauses, searching for the right words. “The kid who always felt he wasn’t good enough no matter how hard I tried.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue, “Tell me about that kid.”

As Max delves into memories of his childhood, stories of relentless training sessions, the weight of expectations, and the struggle to fit in, you listen. Every word, every pause, every shift in his tone paints a picture of a boy who was thrust into the world of racing at a young age, grappling with the colossal pressure to prove himself.

You gently prod, asking him to revisit specific incidents, encouraging him to express his feelings, and offering insights when necessary.

As the session progresses, Max’s demeanor changes. His initial hesitation gives way to openness, vulnerability transforms into strength, and slowly, the pieces start falling into place.

“You know,” you say softly, “It’s natural to carry the scars of our past with us but it’s important to remember they don’t define us.”

Max looks up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “But how do I move past it?”

You want so badly to reach out and hug him — this young man who you consider a son in all but blood — but hold yourself back. You’re both here for work and, right now, Max needs you as a professional and not a mom.

“By acknowledging it, understanding it, and then channeling it. Every time you get in the car, it’s an opportunity to rewrite that narrative. Not for anyone else but for yourself.”

Max takes a moment, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a weight visibly lifted off his shoulders.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Anytime, Max. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. Oh, and remember, we’re all meeting at that little Italian place Charles recommended for dinner.”

There’s a lightness in Max’s voice that wasn’t there before, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Charles Leclerc: Bittersweet Memories

The setting sun casts a somber glow across the paddock at Suzuka Circuit. It’s a track rich with history, triumphs, and heartbreaks. For Charles Leclerc, it’s where he lost Jules Bianchi, his godfather, mentor, and friend.

You find Charles seated alone in a quiet part of the Ferrari motorhome, gazing out the window. The overflowing sadness in his eyes nearly makes you stop in your tracks.

“Hey,” you greet gently, not wanting to startle him. “Mind if I join you?”

He offers a small nod, his gaze still distant.

Sitting down next to him, you allow a comfortable silence to settle, giving him the space to open up when he’s ready. Moments pass before Charles finally speaks, his voice tinged with melancholy.

“Every time I come here,” he starts, “it feels like I’m reliving that day. The memories, the pain, it all just floods back.”

You nod, understandingly, “Grief has a way of doing that, especially when tied to such a tangible reminder.”

Charles looks down, fiddling with his bracelet. “It’s hard, you know? Racing on the same track where I lost him. Every corner, every turn, it’s like he’s there with me.”

Taking a deep breath, you offer, “Maybe that’s a way for you to connect with Jules. To honor his memory, to carry his spirit with you every lap you drive.”

Charles’ eyes shimmer with tears. “I want to make him proud, to show that everything he taught me wasn’t in vain. But sometimes, the weight of it all just becomes too much.”

You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Grief isn’t linear. There will be days when it hits harder, especially in places like this. You just have to remember it’s not about racing against the pain but learning that it’s okay to race with it.”

He meets your gaze, searching for strength, “How do I do that?”

“By allowing yourself to feel, by acknowledging the pain, and by channeling it into your drive. Jules might not be here physically but he’s with you in spirit. And every time you get behind that wheel is another opportunity to show that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a glimmer of determination returning to his eyes.

You give him a comforting smile. “I’m glad I could help, even if it’s just a little. We’re all here for you every step of the way.”

Lance Stroll: Nepo Babies Have Feelings Too

Inside the Aston Martin team lounge, screens show replays of the latest race, commentators discussing various drivers’ performance. One topic that often comes up is Lance Stroll. The chatter revolves around his father’s ownership of the team and whether Lance truly earned his seat or if he’s just a product of nepotism.

You notice Lance sitting a bit apart from the rest, headphones on but his face is a giveaway. The furrowed brows, the downward curve of his lips —he’s clearly overheard the unsubtle whispers.

You make your way over, gesturing to ask if he’d like some company. He nods, removing his headphones.

“Those comments,” you begin gently, “they don’t define you.”

Lance sighs, his frustration palpable. “It’s just ... no matter what I do, how hard I work, how much I improve, it always comes back to the same thing. That I’m only here because of my father.”

You nod, understanding the weight of such judgments. “It’s tough, Lance. But remember, others’ opinions of you are just that — opinions. They aren’t the truth and they most definitely are not your truth.”

He looks up, eyes searching. “But how do I prove them wrong? How do I show that I deserve to be here?”

“It starts with belief,” you say, leaning forward for emphasis, “belief in yourself. You’ve trained, you’ve raced, you’ve faced challenges head-on, and you’ve earned your spot. Your journey in F1 isn’t just about your last name. It’s about every late-night on the simulator, every risk taken on the track, every lap you’ve driven.”

Lance nods slowly, taking in your words. “But the chatter, it’s just so deafening sometimes.”

You offer a comforting smile. “You can’t control what others say but you can control how you react. Every time you’re on that track, you have the power to redefine the narrative, to let your skills speak louder than any spiteful words.”

Motivation straightens his hunched shoulders, the weight of doubt lifting slightly. “So focus on the drive, not the noise?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “Your talent, your dedication, that’s what matters. Let the world see Lance Stroll, the driver, not just Lance Stroll, the son.”

He chuckles, “Easier said than done.”

You wink, “That’s why you have a stellar support system. Lean on us whenever the noise gets too loud.”

George Russell: Comparing Comparisons

It’s a cool afternoon at the Silverstone Circuit and the entire paddock is buzzing with excitement. There’s an added layer of intrigue to the British Grand Prix this season. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, will be racing alongside his much younger compatriot, George Russell, as teammates for the first time.

In the Mercedes team garage, George is meticulously going over his race data, replaying certain turns and maneuvers in his head. But an undertone of tension cuts through his concentration.

You walk over, picking up on his restlessness. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

He glances up, forcing a smile. “That obvious, huh? It’s just racing alongside Lewis … it’s a dream come true but also incredibly daunting.”

You nod, understanding the pressure of standing next to a giant in the sport. “It’s natural to feel that way. Lewis has carved a legacy in F1 and now you’re right beside him, sharing the same tracks in the same car.”

George sighs, “That’s the thing. Everywhere I turn, there’s a comparison. It’s not just about my performance anymore, it’s about how I measure up to him.”

You lean against the worktable, choosing your words carefully. “Here’s the thing, George. You can’t control comparisons or expectations but you can control your race. Every driver brings something unique to the track. Lewis has his legacy, yes, but you have your own journey and story still to build.”

George nods slowly, pondering over your words. “I want to be able to block all of that out. I’ve tried every single weekend so far. But it’s hard. How do I focus on my race and not the looming shadow beside me?”

“There’s no one right answer,” you sympathize. “Look, Lewis is an icon and racing alongside him is an opportunity to learn, to grow. But remember, you’ve earned your spot here. This is as much your race as it is his.”

He chuckles, “You always know exactly what to say.”

You smile, “Just a little wisdom from the sidelines. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and let George Russell shine.”

Lando Norris: Never Grow Up

It’s a warm and bright morning but the mood inside the McLaren motorhome doesn’t quite reflect the sunny atmosphere outside. Lando Norris sits in a corner, earbuds in, lost deep in thought. The usual playful energy that surrounds him is missing today.

You approach, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “Room for one more?”

He looks up, offering a half-hearted smile. “Sure.”

You settle beside him, waiting for him to speak. After a brief pause, Lando finally breaks the silence. “Do you think I’m too childish?”

You’re slightly taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

Lando sighs, “I overheard some comments from a few crew members from another team. They said that no one takes me seriously because I’m always joking around, always laughing. They think that I’m not mature enough for this sport.”

You consider his words, understanding where he’s coming from. "Formula 1 is intense. It’s demanding and requires immense focus and dedication. But it’s also about personality, about bringing your unique touch to the grid.”

He nods but still seems unsure. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m not taken seriously because of how I act?”

You lean in, ensuring he listens to every word. “Lando, your driving speaks volumes. Every time you get behind the wheel, you showcase your skill and your tenacity. The playful side of you, the side that loves to laugh and bring joy, that’s a part of who you are. It doesn’t diminish your talent or your dedication.”

Lando seems to ponder your words, “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I have to constantly prove myself. Like there’s something wrong with being myself.”

You take his hand into both of yours, “Every driver feels that way at some point. But remember, the beauty of this sport is that it’s as much about character as it is about speed. Your playful nature, your genuine laughter, it brings a freshness to the paddock. Embrace it.”

He chuckles, the familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. “So be me and let my racing do the talking?”

“Without a doubt,” you confirm. “Stay true to yourself. The world needs more genuine smiles and more authentic laughter. Then, on the track, just keep doing what you do best.”

Lando grins, “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

Mick Schumacher: What’s In a Name?

The aftermath of a race is evident inside the Haas garage. Engineers are engaged in post-race analysis, the car undergoing routine checks. A desolate Mick Schumacher sits among the organized chaos, his helmet still on, concealing his face.

Walking over, you notice the subtle tremors in his frame, the weight of something heavy weighing on his young shoulders. Gently, you tap on his helmet, signaling for him to lift it. When he does, the anguish in his eyes is palpable.

“You okay, Mick?” you ask softly.

He tries to answer but his voice breaks. Swallowing hard, he confesses, “I just ... I can’t do it. I can’t ever live up to the name.”

You know the gravity of his sentiment. Being Michael Schumacher’s son in Formula 1 is no easy feat. The legacy, the expectations, the constant comparisons that follow Mick everywhere — it’s overwhelming.

You sit down beside him, “I won’t pretend to understand the pressure you feel but remember this: You are not just your last name. You are Mick Schumacher, your own person with your own journey, your own challenges, and your own victories.”

“But everywhere I go, it’s always about him,” Mick interjects, frustration evident. “The great Michael Schumacher’s son. Can he do it? Will he be even a fraction as good? It’s suffocating.”

You nod, acknowledging his feelings. “Your father is a legend and it’s natural for people to draw parallels. But racing isn’t just about legacy, it's about passion, determination, and personal growth. The shape your path takes in this sport is yours alone.”

Mick wipes away a tear, his gaze distant. “But what if I never truly make it? What if I never even score a point much less a podium or a win? What if I’m always just the son of the legend, never a making a name for myself in my own right?”

You squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Then you make peace with that and find joy in what you managed to achieve regardless. You are among twenty of the best drivers on the planet right now. Getting here is no easy feat. Not every path has to lead to the same destination. Maybe you’ll carve a different legacy, one that is uniquely yours.”

Mick seems to ponder over your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I just ... I want to make him proud.”

You smile gently, “By being yourself, by giving every race your best shot, you already are. It’s not the titles or the championships that define us. It’s our heart and the impact we make on those around us. And trust me, your heart is in the right place. Your father would only ever want you to be happy, whatever that entails.”

With a deep breath, Mick nods, a content smile crossing his lips. “Thank you. I needed that.”

You give him an encouraging pat, “I’m always in your corner. Remember that it’s not the shadow that defines us but how we emerge from it.”

Mick stands up, ready to face another day, another race. The legacy of his last name will always be there but he’s slowly learning that his own identity holds value and strength too.

Toto Wolff & Christian Horner: Couples Therapy

The sun filters through the sheer curtains of the sophisticated office, casting dancing patterns on the wooden floor. A blend of vanilla and sandalwood wafts through the air, lending to an ambiance of calm. But this illusion is quickly shattered by two animated voices engaged in heated debate, echoing from the hallway. The door flings open to reveal Toto Wolff and Christian Horner, each determined to prove their point even before the session officially starts, and the cameras and sound equipment stationed around the room quickly zero in on them.

You sit in your chair, a hint of amusement in your eyes, as you address them. “Gentlemen, welcome! How about we start by taking our seats?”

Toto and Christian hesitantly sit on the couch, keeping as much distance from each other as possible.

“So,” you begin, trying to contain your laughter, “Drive to Survive mentioned you two might need some ... couples therapy?” You add air quotes for emphasis.

Christian immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s ridiculous! We’re competitors, not some bickering married couple.”

Toto chimes in, “Although he does nag like my grandmother.”

Christian retorts, “Oh please, Toto! The way you carry on, anyone would think you’re auditioning for a soap opera.”

You hold up a hand, “Alright, let’s take a deep breath. We’re here to find common ground.”

The two team principals continue their banter, airing their grievances, from stolen engineers to wind tunnels to secret agreements. You listen, scribbling notes, occasionally nodding or offering a “hmm” of understanding.

After what seems like an eternity, you interrupt their tirade. “Okay, I’ve come to a conclusion. You both are quite the pair. But instead of directing this ... energy at each other, how about a united front? Surely there’s something, or someone, you both dislike equally?”

Christian and Toto exchange glances, a mischievous glint appearing simultaneously. “The producers,” they chorus.

You swear that you can hear the men standing out of camera range behind you — the producers in question — audibly swallow.

You lean in, intrigued. “Go on.”

Toto grins, “They’ve been poking and prodding, trying to get a reaction out of us. It’s why they set this whole thing up in the first place. And while we do love the drama,” he eyes Christian, “maybe it’s time they get a taste of their own medicine.”

Christian nods in agreement, “A united front to give the producers a season they won’t forget.”

You clap your hands together, “Perfect! So what’s the plan?”

As the session concludes, Toto and Christian leave, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughter echoing down the hall.

You lean back in your chair, chuckling. “Well, that was certainly one for the books.”

You turn around to face the Drive to Survive crew already packing their equipment and producers looking shell shocked . You’ve never seen grown men look quite so pale. But they only have themselves to blame — the session was their idea in the first place.

Sometimes you really love your job.

[elladreams]

The Perfect Setup (Zandvoort) // LN4

summary: Zandvoort '24. A young engineering prodigy, recruited by McLaren to solve complex F1 challenges, grapples with media scrutiny and an undeniable chemistry with driver Lando Norris. As tensions rise during a crucial race, they must balance professional duty with their growing personal connection.

warnings: she/her reader, smut (18+), unprotected (shower 😳) sex, size kink.

words: 6.9K

The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that reverberated through the paddock. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline mixed with the salty breeze from the nearby coast, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that signaled another race was about to begin. The McLaren garage was a hive of activity—mechanics making last-minute adjustments, engineers poring over data, and drivers mentally preparing for the challenge ahead. Amidst the controlled chaos, you stood, a pillar of calm in a world of speed.

You have always stood out, a prodigy in a field where experience often outweighed talent. But here you were, at the heart of one of the most prestigious teams in Formula 1, your hands and mind guiding the finely-tuned machinery that could make or break a race. At just twenty-two, you were already a respected figure in the paddock, known for your brilliance in engineering and your unyielding dedication to the sport.

Your family had sacrificed so much to help you reach your potential. You were always miles ahead of the other kids. While they were playing with dolls or video games, you were more interested in how those things worked. At six years old, you were already taking apart remote control cars, not to play with them, but to understand the intricate systems that made them move. By the time you were ten, you were building small engines from scratch, fascinated by the power and precision of mechanical systems.

Your parents quickly realized they had a prodigy on their hands. They encouraged your curiosity, enrolling you in expensive science and engineering programs meant for kids much older than you. You thrived in these environments, always eager to learn more, to push the boundaries of what you could create. By the time you were a teenager, you had already won several national engineering competitions, earning a reputation as a young genius in the world of mechanics.

When you first discovered Formula 1, everything changed. The speed, the technology, the sheer complexity of the cars—it captivated you like nothing else. You devoured everything you could find about F1 engineering, learning about aerodynamics, power units, and the delicate balance between speed and control. While other teenage girls were dreaming of prom dresses and much older boyfriends , you were dreaming of being in the garage, fine-tuning the machines that drove the world of motorsport.

Your parents knew that pursuing a career in F1 was a long shot, especially for a young woman, but they supported you every step of the way. They worked multiple jobs and sacrificed their own dreams so that you could chase yours.

Thankfully, your talent didn’t go unnoticed. By the time you were 16, you had caught the attention of several top engineers in the F1 world, earning an internship with Mercedes. You quickly made a name for yourself as a technical genius, capable of understanding and improving complex systems that seasoned engineers struggled with. The paddock buzzed with stories of the young girl who was instrumental in Mercedes' dominance.

With your newfound fame came an onslaught of media attention. Reporters from major news outlets were relentless, hounding you for interviews and prying into every aspect of your life. They asked invasive questions about your personal relationships, sought your opinions on the sport's latest controversies, and even pressed you to address misogynistic rumors linking you romantically with certain drivers. The spotlight, once a place of professional pride, had become a battlefield where your every word was scrutinized, and your achievements were often overshadowed by baseless gossip.

Zak Brown fought tooth and nail to bring you to McLaren, recognizing that you were the missing piece they needed to conquer the new regulations. When it became clear that the team was struggling to master the latest specifications, he knew they needed someone with your unique blend of technical expertise and innovative thinking. Zak saw in you a mind that could bridge the gap between theory and practice, someone who could not only understand the intricacies of the new rules but also translate them into real-world performance on the track.

But today, on the day of Max Verstappen's home race, there was an unmistakable charge in the air—tensions were higher, the stakes more personal. It wasn’t just another race; it was a proving ground, not only for the car but for you, the team, and especially for the driver who had become both your greatest challenge and your fiercest ally: Lando Norris.

Lando, the young, fiercely talented star of McLaren, had a natural charm that made him a media darling, but it was his relentless drive to win that truly defined him. From the moment you joined the team, your relationship with Lando had been anything but smooth. Your strong wills collided over every detail, every decision. He saw you as a nuisance, someone who constantly questioned his instincts and pushed him beyond his comfort zone. To you, Lando was stubborn, even arrogant at times—a driver who needed to understand that perfection on the track wasn't just about raw talent but about achieving the perfect synergy between man and machine. And today, that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve.

Standing in the garage, you reviewed the data on your tablet for what felt like the hundredth time. You had pulled an all-nighter, fine-tuning an experimental setup that you believed could give Lando the edge he needed on this notoriously challenging circuit. But convincing him to trust your untested approach was another matter.

Lando stormed into the garage, the top part of his race suit hanging low on his hips revealing his fire proofs, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing at the setup specs displayed on the screen. “This is what you’ve been working on all night?”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This setup could give you the downforce you need through the corners without sacrificing speed on the straights. I’ve run the simulations a dozen times—it works.”

“Simulations?” Lando scoffed, running a hand through his curls in agitation. “Simulations aren’t the same as the real thing. We can’t afford to take risks like this, not here, not today.”

“This isn’t a risk, Lando,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension. “This is a calculated decision based on hard data. I wouldn’t be recommending it if I didn’t believe it would make a difference.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to recognize all too well. “You’re asking me to trust a setup we’ve never used in a race, in front of Max’s home crowd, no less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it costs me the race?”

“And what if it wins you the race?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “You know as well as I do that playing it safe isn’t going to cut it against Verstappen on his home turf. We need every advantage we can get, and this setup is that advantage.”

Lando stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But you didn’t waver. You believed in this setup, and more importantly, you believed in him.

Finally, he relented, nodding slowly. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I swear I will never let you live it down."

“It will” you interrupted, a small tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be right there with you, making sure it does.”

A ghost of a smirk played on his face, his eyes betraying the glimmer of a sparkle. For a moment, the garage was silent, the two of you standing closer than you realized, caught in the intensity of the moment. The intoxicating blend of his dark, amber-scented perfume mingled with the unmistakable and familiar scent of the paddock, created a heady aroma that threatened to cloud your senses entirely.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes. You could feel your cheeks burning as his gaze caressed you.

Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell and stepping back.

"Well, let's get this done." he said, his usual light tone returning as he ran a hand through his hair again. "Wouldn't want to keep the adoring crowd waiting." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, thankful for the change in energy.

You both turned back to the screen to finalize the setup adjustments. As you worked side by side, the air between you felt different—not just charged with the usual tension, but with a deeper, more intimate connection. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, and you had moved from being teammates to something more.

The race was minutes away, but for the first time, you felt like you were truly part of a team—Lando’s team. And that, more than anything, was what mattered. The moments before the race were a blur of final checks and hurried conversations. You stood by Lando’s car, your heart pounding with adrenaline, not just from the intensity of the race but from something deeper—something you were trying desperately not to acknowledge. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Zandvoort Circuit, you caught Lando’s eye. He was already in his race suit, helmet in hand, but there was a softness in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you’d both been dancing around for months.

The starting grid was tense with anticipation. Lando had secured pole position in a spectacular qualifying session, and the team was buzzing with excitement. But everyone knew this race wouldn’t be easy—not with Verstappen starting right behind him, eager to impress his home crowd.

The lights went out, and the roar of the engines filled the air as the cars launched off the line. Lando got a good start, but so did Verstappen. As they barreled into the first corner, Verstappen made a daring move, diving down the inside and taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of orange on its feet as their hometown hero took charge.

“Hold steady,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen. Lando had lost the lead, but the race was far from over.

The next few laps were a blur of precision and strategy. Lando stayed close to Verstappen, not letting him get away, but it was clear that the McLaren’s setup was allowing him to conserve his tires while maintaining pace. The tension was palpable, every corner, every straight a testament to the fine-tuning you and the team had worked so hard to perfect.

As the race approached its midpoint, an opportunity presented itself. Verstappen, pushing hard to maintain his lead, began to show signs of tire degradation. You watched the data closely, your fingers gripping the edge of the console.

“This is it, Lando,” you said over the radio, your voice steady but laced with anticipation. “His tires are gone. You’ve got this.”

Lando didn’t respond, but you knew he’d heard you. His driving became more aggressive, more precise, as he closed the gap to Verstappen. And then, on lap 47, the moment you’d been waiting for arrived. Lando set himself up perfectly coming out of Turn 9, using the slipstream to his advantage. As they approached the hairpin, he made his move, diving down the inside with the confidence of a driver who knew his car—and his own abilities—were more than a match for the challenge.

He retook the lead, and this time, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Nicely done, Lando!” you cheered into the radio, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. The entire team erupted in applause, but your focus remained on the car, on the driver who had just reminded everyone why he was one of the best.

The final laps were a masterclass in control. Lando maintained his lead, keeping Max at bay and managing his tires to perfection, while also building a substantial gap. As he crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag, the McLaren garage exploded in celebration.

“You did it, Lando! You won!” The words burst out of you, the relief and joy evident in every syllable.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio, filled with the same emotion. “We did it. The car came alive.” A flush of pride warmed your cheeks. This was your win, too—your idea, your hard work, your dedication to perfection.

As Lando pulled into the pit lane, the world seemed to slow down. He stepped out of the car, removing his helmet to reveal a smile that lit up his entire face. You had joined the team to celebrate alongside Lando. Before you knew it, he was walking toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. The team was cheering, clapping him on the back, but Lando didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you.” He said simply, the words full of meaning.

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, the rush of adrenaline and pride filling you with a new kind of certainty. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you. You squeezed his hand, your heart racing not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the intensity of the moment between you. “Thank you for trusting me, Lando.”

There was a brief silence, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Then, with a quick glance around as if to check that no one was watching too closely, Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he repeated, a whisper that sent your heart into overdrive.

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. “And we’ll do it again.”

The race had been a victory, but this moment—standing with Lando, the connection between you undeniable—felt like something even more precious. It was the start of something new, something that went beyond the garage and the racetrack. 

—-

The podium celebration had been nothing short of electrifying. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, and the sight of Lando beaming as he hoisted the trophy high above his head was a moment you knew you would never forget. As the McLaren team gathered to celebrate, you found yourself on the podium alongside Lando, representing the team that had worked tirelessly to secure this victory. It was a whirlwind of emotions—pride and undeniable joy.

But as you made your way back to the garage drenched in Ferrari champagne, the adrenaline of the win still pulsing through your veins, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chiara, McLaren’s senior PR manager. Her usually composed expression was tense, and you could tell immediately that she had something on her mind.

“Great job out there,” Chiara started, her voice measured but tinged with concern. “The team couldn’t be happier, but we need to talk.” Your stomach sank as a sense of foreboding crept over you. Chiara had been your main point of contact for media communication since joining the team, and you knew that if she was this worried, it must be something serious. You felt a knot form in your stomach. The way she was looking at you told you that this wasn’t just about the race. “What’s on your mind, Chiara?”

She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, then pulled you aside into a quieter corner of the garage. “Look, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but we need to be careful about how things appear. The media and fans are already buzzing about you and Lando, especially after that little moment after the finish.”

Your mind flashed back to the celebration, to the kiss on the cheek Lando had given you, the way his hand had lingered on yours just a bit longer than necessary. It had felt private, special, but of course, nothing was truly private in the world of Formula 1, especially not when the cameras were always rolling.

“You know how it is,” Chiara continued, her tone softening slightly. “Fans are passionate, and the media loves a good story. They’ll spin anything to make headlines. I’m not saying you can’t have…whatever it is you have with Lando, but we need to manage the optics. The last thing we want is for this to distract from the team’s success.”

You nodded, understanding her concerns. The last thing you wanted was to give the press ammunition to turn your hard-earned victory into tabloid fodder. But the idea of keeping your newfound feelings for Lando hidden, of pretending there was nothing between you, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

“I get it, Chiara,” you said finally, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m not going to let them turn this into a scandal. Lando and I…we’re professionals first. We’ll handle this.”

Chiara smiled, relieved by your response. “I know you will. Just keep in mind that perception is everything in this sport. And right now, you both have the world’s attention.”

With that, Chiara gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to her next order of business. You stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, letting her words sink in. The exhilaration of the victory still buzzed through you, but it was now tinged with the sobering reality of the situation. The weight of her advice pressed down on your shoulders, reminding you that nothing in this world came without its complications.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, dislodging tiny droplets of champagne that sprayed out like glittering confetti. The sticky remnants of the podium celebration clung to you, a tangible reminder of the night’s highs. What you needed now was a serious shower—something to wash away not just the champagne, but the lingering tension from your conversation with Chiara.

As you made your way toward the team’s private quarters, the hum of activity in the paddock slowly faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Chiara’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the reality you both lived in—a world where every glance, every gesture, could be dissected and spun into a narrative you had little control over. The media would indeed be relentless, and the fans, always watching, would be insatiable in their curiosity. But how could you distance yourself from something—or someone—that had become so central to your life, to your happiness? The chemestry you shared with Lando was undeniable, and no amount of PR maneuvering could erase what you felt for him.

As you reached the lockers, you turned on the shower, eagerly anticipating the soothing warmth of the water to ease the tension knotted in your muscles. The promise of relief was a welcome thought after the intensity of the day.

You let out a small sigh, beginning to discard your champagne-soaked clothes. The polo that had clung to your skin now felt heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as you peeled it off and tossed it into the laundry bin. The day’s victories and challenges seemed to weigh on you all at once. The exhilaration of the win, the tension with Lando, the quiet moments where everything between you felt so effortless—they all mingled in your mind, creating a cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both intoxicated and exhausted.

You stood there for a moment, stripped down to your underwear, the cool air of the locker room a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Lando entering until you felt his presence, a subtle shift in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The realization of how exposed you were hit you all at once—half-naked and vulnerable in more ways than one.

Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but something in the way Lando looked at you made you pause. His eyes, darker now with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, roamed over your body, lingering on the curves and lines revealed by your lack of clothing. The heat that flushed your cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his gaze set your skin ablaze. You couldn't meet his gaze fully, not when you were absolutely sure it would burn you from the inside.

He murmured your name, his voice low, vibrating with a tension that matched the fire in his eyes. The way he said it, the way his gaze traced over you, made it feel like a caress. “Look at me.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and you met it head-on, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his. In the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, his features seemed more defined, his jawline sharper, his lips fuller.

There was no mistaking the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, a reflection of the same need that pulsed through your veins. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the space between you crackling with a chemistry that had been building for far too long.

Lando took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and with each inch he closed, the air around you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin—champagne and amber with a hint of the adrenaline that still lingered from the race—filling your senses.

The silence stretched between you, and yet, it was as if an entire conversation was taking place, unspoken but understood. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, the tension between you palpable. "I can practically hear that big brain of yours working overtime." he said, his voice even lower now, almost a rumble. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. The touch was gentle, but it was enough to make you shiver, your skin hypersensitive to every point of contact.

The last remnants of your resolve began to crumble, and you could see the same struggle playing out in Lando’s eyes. There was a flicker of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the space between you—whether to cross this line, to take what you both so clearly wanted.

But then he stepped even closer, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid between you. His eyes followed the path his hand made, and when he looked back up at you, there was no more hesitation, only a hunger that mirrored your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, as though he was barely holding himself back.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, a familiar ache begging to be satisfied. With every brush of his fingers, you felt your resolve crumbling.

You tilted your chin up, your lips parting in invitation. The look in his eyes was pure need, a reflection of the desire coursing through you. He leaned in, his breath warm on your lips, his scent simply intoxicating now that it was mixed with the sharp fruity champagne.

It was as if time had slowed down, and all you could focus on was the heat of his body, the anticipation of his touch, the promise of everything that would come next. And then, finally, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The feel of his lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing across your skin. His mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of him. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—the combination of the champagne, the adrenaline, and the sheer relief of finally giving in to the chemistry that had been simmering between you was enough to make your head spin.

As his hands roamed over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever they touched, you could feel your body responding, the desire building with every passing second. He kissed you like a man starved, and you met his hunger with your own, matching his pace. Your hands found his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms, the heat of his skin drawing you in like a magnet. He was solid and real beneath your touch, and you pressed yourself against him, the sensation of his body against yours igniting something primal and uncontrollable inside you.

Lando’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands splaying across your back, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter between you, ready to snap.

“Lando,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more a plea than anything else.

That was all it took to break the final thread of restraint. There was no gentleness now, only the raw, urgent need that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp curls, pulling him even closer as his hands roamed over your back, your waist, every inch of skin he could reach. The heat of his body, the taste of him on your lips—it was overwhelming in the best possible way, drowning out every thought that wasn’t about him, about this.

Lando’s hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he had it undone, the fabric slipping away as his hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp against his mouth. The sound seemed to fuel him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he backed you up against the lockers, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat between you.

You could feel the solid press of his body against yours, his arousal evident as he pinned you to the lockers, his hands never ceasing their exploration. Reaching your panties, his fingers slid under the band, tugging them down in one smooth motion, his movements sure and confident, as if he knew exactly what he wanted. The sheer contrast of standing before him completely naked while he remained fully clothed amplified the raw vulnerability of the moment, making it feel intensely intimate and charged with a potent, almost primal, energy.

Your own hands moved lower, sliding down his clothed chest, his hard abs, until you reached the waistband of his pants. The feel of his muscles tensing under your touch sent another wave of desire through you, and you wasted no time in slipping your hand beneath the fabric, finding his impressive length and trying to wrap your fingers around him.

His forehead resting against yours as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the friction elicited a rush of pleasure that had him breaking the kiss to let out a curse. For a moment, he just stood there, his breath ragged, his hands tightening on your hips, as if trying to steady himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, and the raw honesty of it sent a thrill through you.

“Good,” you replied, your own voice husky with need, your hand beginning to move with deliberate strokes that had him groaning, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to keep himself in check. He reached for his fireproofs and pulled them off, his movements almost frantic. You helped him, pushing the fabric over his hips, revealing the perfection of his physique.

You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the lean, sculpted lines of his body, the taut muscles that flexed with each movement. You inhaled a sharp breath as your eyes finally landed on his cock, hard and swollen with desire. You were no stranger to the male anatomy as your hormones and curiosity had gotten the best of you in the past, but you were starting to become nervous about taking his impressive size inside of you.

Before your brain could spiral too far, you felt Lando's hands on you, his touch firm but gentle, his calloused fingertips sending shivers of pleasure through your body as he traced patterns along your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The chemistry between you had ignited into a full-blown inferno, and neither of you had any intention of putting it out. 

In a fluid motion, Lando lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the shower that had been steaming in anticipation. You giggled as the warm water hit your skin, the tension between you melting away as the shower cascaded over you both.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver of anticipation down to your core.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," you replied, a challenge and a plea, and the heat that flared in his eyes at the words was enough to make you burn for him.

He lowered his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and deep, a delicious contrast to the urgency. His hand reached between your legs, finding the wetness there and stroking with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb circling your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he used it against you, building you up slowly but surely, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every expert movement of his hand.

You clung to him, your nails digging into the slick skin of his back, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the waves of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He entered two of his thick fingers making you whimper at the stretch. His free hand was on the side of your face, tilting it up to capture your lips with his, kissing you with a tenderness that belied the urgency of the situation. You knew he was trying his best to prepare you for his cock, but it was a lot. He was a lot.

"I don't think you're going to fit," you whispered, feeling embarrassed, but he just smiled, his fingers still working their magic.

"Oh, I will," he promised, and you felt a jolt of desire shoot through you at the certainty in his voice.

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you felt yourself clenching around his fingers, the pleasure intensifying as he stroked your g-spot with precision. Lando swallowed your moans, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of the water surrounding you, and the expert movements of his hand bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, his fingers working you relentlessly until the pleasure became too much, the tension snapping and sending you crashing over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling in its wake, and Lando held you close, his hands gentle now as he supported you. You were gasping for air, the feeling so intense it was almost overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice soft and low, the sound of it making something inside you ache.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost enough to make you forget how to breathe.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice full of emotion, and in that moment, you believed him.

Slowly, the haze of pleasure began to clear, and you became aware of the tension coiled in his body, the way his muscles were taut with restraint, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh. He was still rock-hard, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, to experience that connection on a deeper level.

"I'm ready," you breathed, your voice laced with a need that you could no longer deny.

He nodded as he turned you around, pressing your face against the cool tile, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Your breath hitched as he lined up his cock with your entrance, the blunt tip already threatening to breach you. He gathered some of your moisture by rubbing his tip against your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, as his other hand grabbed your neck, forcing you to arch your back. He took a moment to burn this very image in his mind. He had thought about this moment countless times before, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he could have imagined.

With a slow, deliberate push, he was able to get the head inside. Your eyes shut as you felt the stretch, his girth much more than you were used to. You let out a whimper as you reached for the hand currently holding your neck, seeking his support. You could hear him mutter under his breath, the words too quiet for you to make out. You assumed it was a string of curse words, but you didn't dare look.

With his hand gripping your hip, he pushed deeper, slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You could feel every vein on his perfect cock, the stretch dancing on the edge of pain and pleasure. He kept stopping, pulling back a bit and then pushing deeper again. You could tell he was doing his best to let you adjust to his size, but it was still a struggle.

Once he bottomed out, he groaned as you let out a sound that you've never heard yourself make before. A mixture between a moan and gasp. His hands traveled up your body, finding your breasts and giving them a squeeze, before settling on your shoulders. You could feel the water trickling down your back as the steam created a haze around the two of you. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of desire and concern.

"Yes," you answered, not even recognizing your own voice, "I'm just a little...full."

He chuckled at that, his cock twitching inside you. He slowly started moving his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up every nerve in your body. You couldn't string two thoughts together as he started creating a torturous rhythm. One of his hands travelled down to your bundle of nerves, pinching it with every thrust.

"Fuck," you cursed, "fuck, fuck, fuck." You couldn't believe how drunk you were on him.

He chuckled as he grabbed you from the now warm tile, resting you flat against his front. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper, making you whimper and whine with every thrust. His hands reached for your jaw, tilting it so he could stare deeply into your eyes. He was watching every reaction, every change in your expression.

"Tell me what you feel." he demanded, his voice hoarse, and you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare was almost enough to send you over the edge again, but you clung to the last threads of your self-control, desperate to prolong this moment.

"I feel...I feel everything," you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this b—"

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing the rest of your words. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of you could win. The heat between you was unbearable, the need for release consuming every thought. You knew he was close, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, less controlled. But you weren't ready to let go, not yet.

You pulled away from the kiss, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Please don't stop," you begged, your voice rough with need, "I need you, Lando."

That was all it took. His eyes darkened, and he let out a growl, his grip on your jaw tightening as he captured your lips again, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the raw hunger between you reaching a new level.

He fucked into you with wild abandon, his hips snapping as he chased his release. The pleasure was blinding, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, sending you spiraling toward the edge. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer hold back.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs as your body shuddered in his arms. Your eyes closed, the white light behind your eyelids pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only cling to him as you rode out the storm.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips finding the delicate skin there, sucking and nibbling. You could feel the pleasure building again, the combination of his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips against your neck sending you hurtling toward another climax.

"I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with need, "so close, fuck."

The words sent a surge of heat through you, and you clenched around him, feeling him shudder as his own release washed over him. You grabbed as his curls, forcing him to look at you, the intensity of his gaze pushing you over the edge again, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"Fuck, I can feel you," he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as your core milked him, the sensation of his release triggering another wave of pleasure.

You both clung to each other, riding out the waves, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless. You were both gasping for air, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Lando buried his face in your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the steady beat of the water as it cascaded over you. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so sated, so utterly spent.

Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of emotions—relief, contentment, and a hint of something else, something that sent a thrill through you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"That was...fuck," he said, his voice rough, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grinned, the joy and satisfaction evident in every line of your body. You could feel him slowly softening inside you, and you reluctantly unwrapped your legs, letting him slide out of you. You gasped feeling yourself become sore already. He chuckled as he noticed, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel, gently drying you off before lifting you up in his arms.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, a spark of humor in his voice, and you laughed, the sound echoing off the tiles, the sound carefree and light.

You kissed him, slow and deep, the kiss full of promises and possibilities. This was only the beginning, and you both knew it. You pulled back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and admiration, your heart full of the realization of what you'd found, the connection between you now undeniable.

"Get that perfect ass to media duty before they start sending out a search party," you teased, a chuckle escaping as you watched the realization of his looming responsibilities flicker across his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving you a quick peck on the lips before setting you down, "but just know, this was the best shower I've ever taken."

You smirked, unable to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, a sense of calm washed over you, the satisfaction of the moment lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. The memory of his touch, the weight of his body against yours, the deliciously filthy sounds he had coaxed from you, would stay with you forever, a private treasure. You sighed, reveling in the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop you, the afterglow of your tryst still humming through your veins.

[blorbocedes]

Why is there such intense sexual tension between gp and max

I really think the meat of the dynamic is max can trust him to be honest with him, and in turn max can be his most unfiltered honest self.

the driver and race engineer dynamic is a very intimate one. if you think of the car and the driver as the horse, the raw power that wins the races, then your race engineer is your rider -- calm and firm in guiding you to victory. f1 is a huge team production, each driver has a whole factory of people behind him making sure everything goes smoothly. but during the race the driver's only direct connection to the team is the voice in his ear, relaying strategy, warning them of other cars and track limits, encouraging them and even admonishing. this is the man you trust with your life, literally, coming out of blind spots like out of the monaco tunnel and trusting your engineer to tell you whose behind you.

with max and GP, GP's been his race engineer since 2016. that's a very long time and a very long relationship. max is obviously redbulls golden boy and literally everyone's job in the team is to keep him happy, from his tp to helmut it's all praise (and he's doing an outstanding job to get it), but GP in a way is the only person who isn't and by the function of his job can't be a yes man to max. he has to relay him the truth. you'll see GP isn't often impressed by max, and even bets against him making pole. The guy who knows your data and braking points and how you keep crossing over track limits isn't gonna be too impressed by you even if you're god's gift to racing. He makes max earn his post race praise. He's even curt, and outright direct when max is whining on radio. Likewise, max knows he can be aggressive in high pressure situations, yelling at him to not talk to him in the braking zone and that GP can take handle him. There's trust in that too. And if he feels he went too far, he will sheepishly get GP ice cream post race. Their dynamic on radio is one that makes us the viewers we're witnessing a couple having a domestic tiff. that's because GP gives back as good as he gets. He doesn't coddle max, if max makes the wrong call then GP will call him out on it. my favourite radio is when max was yapping why didn't we do etc etc and GP was straight up do you want to switch jobs? how about you do your own next lap.

this is the man you can be your worst self in high stress situations to and he will take you as you are. that's basically a marriage.

obviously despite all the headache max causes, GP loves working with him. he literally said max is the driver he wants to retire with. he has a photo with max in his living room, instead of his wife 😭 likewise, max literally has a clause in his contract that he gets GP. max is someone who is loyal to a fault and GP's been with him since his very first f1 win. that's his emotional regulator baldie.

the sexual tension comes from the fact that GP is 17 years older than him and max wants to get rawed by him 🧑🏻‍🦲❤️😋

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader P3

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

"You ready for our first Grand Prix together Max?" you ask, testing with Max had gone really well and Christian was happy with the dynamic the both of you had. Max as gentle and kind as he was, he was very ambitious and that ambition when it didn't prevail often turned into anger.

Christian saw, in FP1 and FP2 when he didn't think he was performing that well, you just completely calm Max down and talk him through each component of what he needed to improve. He listened to her on took on board when to conserve his tires, when do take turns wider or more sharply etc. And testing couldn't have gone better for Red Bull.

"You know it, lead me to Victory Y/N" he grinned before hopping into the car. You walk over to your station making sure all of the data on the car is looking as good as it did yesterday in qualifying and to check for any errors that could mess Max up in his first few laps. Nothing stuck out, and you could tell that both the car and Max would perform well today.

"Is Y/N here i need to talk to her before the race" you heard through your headphones, you turn seeing George in his racing suit and helmet in hand talking to some of the mechanics.

"Mate, you are a driver. You should be getting in your car for radio check. You cant be in the Red Bull area okay?" he advises, making George look around quickly before huffing and walking away in dissatisfaction.

"Max, Radio Check can you hear me" you ask and get a response immediately.

"Yes, loud and clear! Today will be good!" he exclaims.

And how true he was, you guided him into P1, it was an amazing start to you helping Max win the Championship, Mexico had been an amazing drive for him. He shared a podium with Lewis and Charles. There were a few cameras that caught you and Lewis looking at each other and you giving him a thumbs up.

Media teams were about to have a field day.

"You are amazing Y/N! You know the car so well I bet YOU could be the driver! Those strategies were insane" Max complimented you as he'd taken his helmet off and pulled you into an insanely sweaty hug of thanks for a great first race.

"Oh god, I'm definitely not driver material! Don't tell anyone, but I don't actually have my drivers license" you cringe giggling at him, it was something you'd never needed. Your mum or dad normally drove you around before uni, and once you were there everything was within walking distance. It had just felt pointless.

"No way, you've got to be lying to me" Max laughs, wondering how you'd survived so long without something like that.

"Honestly George or Lewis used to drive me around a lot, when i had to go to the Mercedes HQ back home he'd take me if my parents couldn't! You say a light smile on your face before it turned sour thinking of the mousy brown haired man that had completely lost any trust you had placed in him.

"Lets not think about them. Lets talk about you coming with me, Christian, Geri, Kelly, Sergio, Hugh and Carola?" he asks and a massive grin comes onto your face.

"I'm invited to the Horner dinner, huh? That sounds kinda important and fancy. I might just have to decline" you joke making Max roll his eyes.

"No, you are joining us and are having fun and getting your mind off Thing one and Thing two" he jokes, you tried to keep a serious face but you really couldn't.

"Anyway, considering the Princess cant drive do you want me to take you back to the hotel?" he asks smiling.

"If that's okay with you!" you smile happily, he nods slinging an arm around your shoulder guiding you to the car.

"So when do I finally get to meet P!" you exclaim, even though you'd only been working with Max for a week, you'd gotten to know him very well. You had to considering he had to trust listening to you while he was driving round a track a 200 miles an hour.

"Hmmmm I think Kelly said she'd be bringing her to the race next week. It's Brazil so its an important one for her!" he admits. The conversation flew between you and Max, it was strange really it felt like you'd been friends with him for ages. You had to grovel when it came to any of the Mercedes Drivers in the past, so this easiness to making friends felt good.

That was one thing you'd struggled with. You had a love for F1 straight away considering who you parents were and where you were constantly travelling from race to race until you got to university age. So you didn't actually have many friends who stuck around.

You both eventually ended up at the hotel, you waved at Kelly who was waiting for the both of you and she pulled you into a big hug as she walked over to you.

"You both did amazing today! So proud of you! Y/N, did Max end up inviting you to dinner tonight!" she exclaims, wanting you to be there as well.

"Yes, I'll be there" you smile and say your goodbye's before dashing into your room to get ready for the dinner.

You struggled on what to wear and ended up calling Max to get Kelly to help you on what the dinner vibe was for tonight. You ended up showing her half the stuff you'd brought to Mexico with you and ended up picking one of your nicer dresses from Versace.

You took some pictures before a knock was heard at your door that had you confused as you were meeting up with Kelly and Max outside theirs in 30 minutes.

You opened the door, and looked up to see who had come to the door.

"Omg" you both said at the same time, you tried to slam the door shit. George wouldn't ruin your night, he didn't deserve too.

However, a foot and arm in the door and his general athletic body that made him stronger than you prevented all of that. He practically barged his way in.

You both stood there in awkward silence. George couldn't get over how beautiful you looked. I mean, you were always beautiful to him. But tonight in the black dress that he swore Donatella had personalized just for you, and the way your hair fell around you face in an effortless fashion. He couldn't look away from you.

"If you've come here to accuse me some more, then just leave. I'm about to have a really good night with friends, people who actually care for me and want me to succeed and if I'm being honest I do not need your negativity" you say, turning around to check yourself in the mirror.

"You look gorgeous tonight. So i wont do this tonight, but please meet me in between the Mercedes and Williams garage next week in Brazil. We need to talk. We've been friends for years and I don't want my stupidity to come between us" he says, stepping towards you going to reach out his hand. You step back, it took a lot especially with this ocean blue puppy eyes looking at you with that sad expression that would make anyone fold.

"Please, After Qually, I'm only asking for five minutes Y/N please" he begs trying to catch your eyes but you were doing your best not to look at them too often, knowing you would probably cave.

"I'll think about it. If I'm there we can talk, if not then its up to you if our friendship is really worth waiting for" you admit, walking to the door and opening it up for him as a sign that he should leave.

"I've waited long enough" he mumbles before walking out the door himself and leaving towards the lift that was down the corridor from your room.

The night had gone so well, you were really beginning to feel comfortable around those in Red Bull. The people at the table were being so kind to you as the newbie, Christian pouring you the water, recommending you dishes he liked whilst arguing with the actual Mexican in the room who knew the cuisine of the restaurant like the back of his hand, to offering you the salt and proceeding to do it for you had your heart melting.

It was stupid, really. You shouldn't be this emotional over an older man doing small silly little tasks that you could tackle alone but just was nice to have the offered help. Help that you hadn't received in recent years.

"I really want to thank you all for tonight, its been really nice to hang out with you. And i cant wait for a double podium in Brazil next week!" you exclaim clinking you glass with everyone around the table.

However, George still managed to creep into your mind thanks to his earlier disturbance.

Would he actually apologise?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @urdad-hot

Hey guys, so i've noticed some people in the taglist aren't getting tagged, I'm not sure if this is username changes or what... but i will start to take of one that don't link to an actual page, so if you see your account name and its not working please feel free to message me, or comment her or on my masterlist of taglist so i can see your knew username!

[vibratingskull]

Hello, hello. I am obsessed with your stories .

I would like to ask you to write a Thrawn x f!reader . Thrawn is in love with the reader, and she refuses him. but she is actually very much in love with him. She believes she would never come first for him and that even she will be expendable to him should it come to that. Which is why she refused him.

Thank you my dear ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I am sorry for the delay

Thrawn x F!reader

tags : misunderstanding, heart to heart, love confession, (kinda?)hurt/comfort

Your heart is pounding. 

Peacefully seated at his desk, Grand Admiral Thrawn analyzes your latest work. You worked your ass off on these data, crossing all of those dates, GPS coordinates, vids information, and alien propaganda speeches to FINALLY locate the hideouts of those rebels! But you fucking did it! 

You’re not the Chimaera’s Commander for nothing! 

You were so much lower on your latest ship, underestimated and underappreciated. You made one singular mistake in the entirety of your career! And it earned you a transfer to the Chimaera, under then Vice Admiral Thrawn’s command, where a lot of the outcasts of the Navy ended up. A sign of shame and failure, being put under the only Alien of the Navy was worse than being demoted or laid off for some. 

But very quickly 

The tendance shifted. 

Thrawn has a natural talent : to find and refine others’ strengths, like a jeweler carefully polishes a precious gemstone. People who were judged useless under others’ orders suddenly started to flourish and gave good results, incredibly good results even ! Their enthusiasm and motivation crushed at their former posts reappeared, stronger than ever ! 

Thrawn took the losers he was given, nurtured their strong suits, and turned them into one of the most efficient crews the Empire ever had ! 

Commodore Faro and you were prime examples of Thrawn’s strong management talent and leadership. Diminished on other ships, unstoppable on the Chimaera ! 

And when Thrawn reached the rank of Grand Admiral in the record time of a single decade, all the snake tongues were forced to recognize his undeniable success and tactical genius. As they always should have! 

All those factors now make the Chimaera the most requested ship by ensigns and Navy workers of any field. From soldier to machinist, data scientist to engineer, to officer, all come knocking at Thrawn’s door to be part of the crew that will make History with a big H ! 

And you are one of them. Welcomed and guided by the Man himself you are part of his core team, his strongest supporter and follower. You are part of the Chimaera’s crew as you are part of a family, under Thrawn’s wise guidance. 

And… 

If you are honest with yourself and look at the bottom of your soul, the worryingly strong and fast beating of your heart might not just be because of the stress of having your work reviewed by a superior. 

But because of something else entirely... 

Something taboo, that should not exist between a Grand Admiral and his Commander of any respectable fleet. 

But you just cannot calm down your heart when you cross gaze with his shining rubies, you cannot help your blood rushing to your cheeks, the slight wobbliness of your legs, the air getting stuck in your throat when you have to speak to him. 

‘’Very good, Commander (Y/n). A remarkable job of investigation in a record time !’’ Thrawn finally declares, looking at you with a satisfied little grin, ‘’You can be proud of yourself.’’ 

‘’Thank you Grand Admiral.’’ You slightly bow your head to him with respect, ‘’Some data scientists did a wonderful job gathering all of that information, I would not have done it without their efforts.’’ 

‘’You will need to give me their name, so I can keep a closer tab on them.’’ He slowly nods in approval. 

‘’I will make you a list, Sir.’’ 

‘’Did anyone else caught your eyes ?’’ 

‘’Sir ?’’ You demand, ‘’Is it not Commodore Faro’s prerogative ?’’ 

‘’It is. It is also the prerogative of any of my officers I estimate. I value your opinion and judgment more than some of my fellow Grand Admirals, if you notice someone’s good work getting unappreciated I want you to come to me.’’ 

‘’Sir, I think you have no trouble noticing it yourself.’’ You cannot help but chuckle. 

He keeps looking at you, a tight satisfied grin on his lips, soft and found. His eyes seem to shine brighter. 

‘’What?’’ You ask before his insisting gaze, still shaken by your laugh. 

‘’Nothing. I simply enjoy hearing your laugh. It is such a delectable sound, it alleviates my stress and appeases my mind.’’ He tilts his head, focused on you. 

Your smile falters and the laugh dies down immediately. You close back on yourself, pressing your datapad against your chest. 

You cannot permit yourself such things... 

‘’With your permission, sir, I will take my leave.’’ You say, recovering your detached and professional tone, cutting short the conversation. 

His shoulders ever so lightly lower down and his smile disappears, like he is... Disappointed. But his expression remains unshakable. 

‘’Of course, Commander. You may go, I wish you a peaceful and restful sleep.’’ 

You curtly nod, murmur a ‘you too, Sir’ so low you wonder he even heard it, and exit the large office rapidly. You walk swiftly in the long and bright corridors of the Chimaera, a maze you know by heart. 

A maze you now call home. 

Your datapad pressed against your breast as to hide your sprinting heart from anyone who might cross your path you walk straight and fast, head raised high but gaze low on the floor. You gulp with difficulty trying to order your boiling mind. 

Grand Admiral Thrawn is nothing but professional, courteous, and polite. He never makes any crass comments of any kind or insinuations, the only compliments leaving his lips are praises for a work well done or a cunning attitude. 

That is all! 

Except for you. 

It has been several months now since he started to casually compliment you on... Anything really. He always found a little something to compliment you over every day. 

Always respectful and within the bounds of morality. 

He started as with anyone else, a ‘Good work’ here, a ‘Pertinent observation’ there, a ‘successful mission.’ sprinkled in. 

And one day it was ‘This new hair style compliment your features wonderfully.’ Out of the blue and with no warning. He said it casually, with his usual nonchalance and detachment, and you simply assumed he was in an exceptionally good mood to compliment someone for something so mundane and out of his usual zone of comfort. 

But this is highly unusual behavior for him!  

You never heard him compliment anyone’s hairstyle, choice of blush, or capacity to keep their uniform clean. But he started doing it for you. A little one every day, a constant stream of praise day by day... 

And if you brushed it off the first time, the second was heavily suspicious. 

He may slip off one time. But never two. 

It was intentional on his part! It must have been. 

He also started to take more caff breaks when you took one. He always appears three to five minutes after you, takes a fuming cup of caff, engages in some conversation with you, and gets back to the bridge a maximum of two minutes before you, down to the second.  

Sometimes he does not even take a single sip of his drink, preferring to speak with you about the current campaign, but mostly art, his special interest. If you wished to speak about your interests, he becomes absolutely mute. 

But he listens to you rambling attentively because when you come back to the subject a week or so later, he recalls a myriad of details of different importance with excruciating precision about anything you spoke of. 

If you are already talking to someone else, he does not insert himself in the conversation unless invited, preferring to take a seat at a table to sip his drink in complete silence. 

His gaze fixes his cup or the propaganda posters on the walls but always seems to come back to you, like you were a light in the darkness... You can feel his burning eyes on the back of your neck. But it does not feel like a burnt wound. Instead, it simply feels like... A heat source on your neck, a warm point that gently spreads on your skin... And when you spin your head in his direction to spot him, his eyes are back on his cup. 

But you do feel his warm gaze on you... 

You KNOW it. 

For some reason, he is trying to deepen your relationship. 

And while your heart pumps like a machine at that simple thought, you also know you should stifle that hope in its infancy. 

Thrawn... Is a man married to his job. War is the very purpose of his existence and he excels at it, why would he weigh himself down with a relationship? 

He either wants a short casual fling, which you would never guess was his style, or he wants something deeper... A real relationship with you. 

And those possibilities terrify you. 

When you love, you love generously, pouring your very own blood into the relationship, giving endlessly to please your partner. And it cost you a lot in the past, you were used and cast aside after countless times. So many tears were wasted for partners who only saw you as a commodity. You promised yourself to never fall for someone who does not make you their priority anymore! 

But you fell for Grand Admiral Thrawn, despite your better judgment and best efforts. 

He is a man of integrity, intelligence, charisma, and elegance, you did not feel any malice or will to hurt others in him which is surprisingly uncommon in the Navy hierarchy of the Empire.  

And he is very far from being displeasing to look at! His alien features even reinforce his natural charm, his face is harmonious and delicate with sharp intelligent eyes. 

Really, everything seems to make him a wonderful romantic partner in theory. 

But the theory doesn’t account for the first love of his life: work. 

You will never come before his first love, and as a Grand Admiral maybe you should not, but that stabs your heart.  

Once again you fell for the wrong one. 

If only you were smitten, you could manage. But the fact that he seemed to take an interest in you in return, offers you his gentle words and careful attention complicates absolutely everything! 

You should not fall for that trap again! You do not want to! 

But how to refuse such a man? How to look in his carmine gaze and stand your ground? It is demanding a will you simply do not possess, so now you run away from any new attempt from him. You respond coldly and sternly at any non-work related praises and leave the room swiftly. 

He never tries to hold you back, accepting your choice. 

That does not make it any easier for you. If you falter ONCE and give him hope that it is possible, you may fall again and hurt yourself, deeper this time. 

You survived your exes but could you survive Grand Admiral Thrawn’s love?  

Nothing is less certain. 

So you run away like a coward, feeling his fond gaze on your form. 

Never again... 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Thrawn sighs internally, his eyes fixed on the door you just exited through like a persistent image of you would appear to him if he focused on it. 

Again, you fled. 

He is used to it by now. He compliments you on anything not work-related and you shut off completely. 

What did he expect exactly anyway? Love stories between superiors and subalterns in a fleet are such a cliche of movies without any grounds in reality. He heard of some in the Ascendancy and the Empire and none ended well. 

But for some months he had that fleeting hope, that childish wish that something was possible between you two. 

He was the first surprised to realize he had feelings for you. He welcomed you under his commands as every other officer sent to him and you worked together for some time to find your strengths and give you the appropriate post for your skills. 

He was proud to see you grow and mature, witnessing your skills sharpening day by day until you wield them like a deadly blade with the utmost precision. Your true talents were revealed and your name started to be passed around and other ship captains started to court you for a transfer. 

It happens a lot. A lot of officers he trained were transferred to other fleets and he only heard good about them since then, even Commodore Faro was heavily requested by others for her next promotion, and while he would only feel pride and accomplishment to let her go lead her own forces as she deserves to, he only felt a deep and insidious cold course his flesh when your name appeared in the requests.  

At first, he rationalized it. He concluded that it was too soon for you to leave his tutelage yet, he could still teach you more before seeing you fly away. But the more transfer requests he received, the colder he felt, and the more uneasy he was. 

It was like... lacking air. Like he tried to breathe desperately but his throat was so contracted no air could reach his lungs. But those uncomfortable sensations melted in your presence. Next to you, everything felt right and natural once again, like it was meant to be.  

Slowly your grip on his being started to tighten, like a frog boiling in a pot. 

He never felt like that and it was starting to worry him. He could not let a single person have so much power over him, it would be too dangerous for his ultimate goal, but each time you appeared in his field of vision, all his worries vanished and a warm sensation spread in his chest, his heart felt wrapped in silk and everything was good again. 

And then 

The first wet dream came. 

He had some in his early teenage years when hormones did their work as for everyone else. But he always only saw a faceless, nameless figure in his arms at night. And then they just disappeared altogether, promptly sorted and locked in his well-organized mind and no further dream came to disturb his sleep. 

But that morning he was lying in bed, completely dumbfounded. His eyes wide open, fixed on the ceiling he tried to understand what that dream meant. For the very first time, he saw a face. 

Your face. 

So clearly. 

And what a dream it was... 

He observed his trembling hands for a moment, trying to make sense of all of that. Did his control over his flesh and body start to loosen after all this time? 

Was he softening up? 

He greeted his teeth and went on with his day. At that moment, he convinced himself it was lust. 

Just lust. 

Simple in theory but completely new to him, nobody ever disturbed his flesh like that before and it was quite annoying in his opinion. Obviously, it was only his problem, he could not reasonably hold you responsible for the weakness of his mind and body. He must deal with it alone and not let it disturb his focus! 

But he only had to hear your voice... 

Hear the melodic notes of your laugh... 

Admire the light in your human eyes... 

To know that he was in much more trouble than he first thought. 

It was not lust. 

It was love. 

A first for him once again, and at that point he was convinced it would never happen! Not that he would mind, honestly. Heart matters seem more troublesome than anything else... 

But you assuredly walked into his life and as assuredly took his heart from his chest to keep it with you like a lovely thief, you fondly kissing it every day with your perfect lips, making it beat faster, to the point he felt it could implode at any moment. 

That day he complimented you on your new hairstyle. Out of nowhere. He greeted you, let you know how lovely you were, and walked away without any other word.  

Why did he do that? Beats him.  

He saw you and felt the irrepressible desire to compliment you,  but the usual work praises did not feel enough to calm down the raging storm rising in his chest at that moment. 

And it all derailed from here. 

He kept the compliments coming and welcomed your disincarnated embrace in his dreams at night, craving to feel your real arms wrapping around him to hug him. 

He felt the need to follow you when you took your breaks as any minute away from you felt like death. He instigated casual conversations with you, trying to get you to open up to him. But you kept it so clean and professional; Would it be anyone else he would be thankful for that but he wants you to reveal your heart to him. 

He would take anything! Just learning your favorite color would satisfy his cravings for a month. 

You slowly relaxed around him, accepting to speak a bit about yourself, as much as it was morally acceptable for a Commander to say to her Grand Admiral. He noted every minute detail you let escape in his mind with meticulousness, creating a map of you in his head. 

He let you speak, not daring to interrupt you. He could listen to you describing paint dry. 

Of course, he knew how to stop. If you were talking to a colleague he respected your privacy, if he felt you uncomfortable at any moment he would take his leave. 

And for a time he fantasized about waking next to you in the same bed, rings shining at your fingers. And it was sweet and soft... 

But you are not receptive.  

So he buried that dream and slowly prepared to walk away from you. Each time he compliments you your face hardens and your tone gets colder and aloof. 

But for a split second... 

You bite your lips and he witnesses your heart accelerating in his infrared vision. 

And you cannot take that away from him. No matter how harshly you cut the conversation short. Those little compliments are his little pleasures, his only fancy. The only thing he allows himself to savor in secret. 

His eyes fall again on the datapad in his hand. With a gesture of the finger, he swipes the file to let appear the latest captain’s request to transfer you to their ship. 

Soon he will say goodbye to you, but at least he should make sure you get the best post possible... 

------------------------------------------------------ 

“Oh Maker...” Karyn makes her spine pop with a sigh of relief, “Today was long!” 

“Indeed.” You chuckle, “It was pretty dry and boring!” 

You both head to the bar of the officer mess hall. 

“Two beers!” Karyn orders, “I am done with work for the day! I need to relax.” 

Your shift finished 10 minutes ago, you are officially free for the rest of the day, and a fresh beer seems delectable right now! You sit next to your friend, clink your glasses, and take a large gulp with delight. 

“That’s the stuff!” You gasped. 

“True! I need to get drunk tonight or I will go crazy!” Karyn declares slamming her glass down the bar. 

You look at her with silent questions in your eyes, inviting her to speak more. She snarls, licking her white teeth. 

“I feel like the Grand Admiral is trying to slow me down.”  

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“He interfered so I could not become Commander of Task Force 231.” She reveals, her head sitting in her hand, annoyed. 

You freeze, contemplating what she just said to you. Would Grand Admiral Thrawn truly do that? Voluntarily sabotaging his own Commodore’s career? 

No. 

You cannot believe that! 

“I am sure he had a reason. He is a fair man, you deserve to lead your own troops, maybe he has a bigger plan for you.” 

She turns her head towards you, gauging you up and down before sneering shortly. 

“I forgot who I was talking to.” 

You nudge her playfully, earning another snigger. 

“You know I am objective. Even about him!” You counter. 

“Mmmmh. Maybe you are, maybe not.” She taunts, taking another sip, “All right! I think it is time for some women talks. How things are going with your Chiss?” 

“He isn’t my Chiss, Karyn.” You remind her, “We are not together.” 

“Which is highly surprising in my opinion with how interested he is.” 

Your grip tightens around your glass, your eyes hypnotized by the ale in front of you. 

“He is not interested.” You try to assert. 

“Arh, do not use that charade with me, (Y/n)! We are both past it, he devours you with his eyes and tried an infinite amount of time to speak with you. He never showed such interest in anyone since I work under him!” 

“He is just trying to be friendly.” You recoil more on your seat. 

“Maker fricking... (Y/n)!” She starts losing patience “We both know that is bullshit. I am tired of seeing your beaten puppy look every day, talk to him!” 

“... And say what? Explain to me what I am supposed to say, ‘Sorry, I am in love with you but you’ll probably relegate me to the bottom of your priority list, so no chance?’” 

“Why do you assume he would relegate you to the bottom of his priority list?” 

You turn to her with a raised eyebrow and a tired smile. 

“Because he is a Grand Admiral and married to his job? Because if I did come before his duties that would put us all in danger and jeopardize his entire career? Because it is simply impossible? Because he will not risk his goal for a single relationship?” 

Usually, you love goal-oriented partners, but you just wish they would make some place for you in their lives and not just see you as an appliance to take advantage of. You want them to be your supporter as you are theirs, but you have been let down so many times... 

“(Y/n)...” 

You sigh. 

“It is so hard, you know? To see him every day, to feel his grip around my heart compressing it until no blood is left. I feel like I am drowning in love and despair, I feel his gaze on my skin and I go weak. He plagues my dreams every night and I wake up cold and arms empty.” 

“(Y/n)?” Karyn whispers, “Maybe you should-” 

“It just hurts so much. To have him so close, to see Thrawn every day, excelling in his career and craving he would give me the same attention... Some nights I cry in my bed because I feel so empty.”  

“Hum, (Y/n)...?” Karyn slightly stiffens. 

“But what can I do?” You put your head in your hands with a long sigh “I promised myself not to fall again and I tripped over my feet when I met him. He is the textbook definition of whom I should avoid at all costs but I fell face first in the permabeton. At that point it’s a pattern, I am searching to get hurt. I am weak... I am pathetic but I love him!” You feel sobs rising in your throat and your eyes start to get wet, “Why is it so hard? Why can’t I forget these sentiments with a snap of fingers? Why do I have to live with this? Why-” 

“(Y/n)!” Karyn shushes you with a hard whisper, gripping your shoulder to shake you. 

You turn your head to her and she designates something on the other side discreetly. You turn your head again and almost fall from your stool. 

Right there, at the other side of the bar, a fuming cup of caff in his hand, Grand Admiral Thrawn sits, perfectly calm and composed. 

But more importantly, at eavesdropping distance. 

You immediately focus back on your ale, head full and spinning. 

He heard you! 

You know he did, he always hears everything in a room! 

You are so done for! You are royally fucked! You are so... 

“Maybe he did not hear, maybe he-” Karyn doesn’t have the time to finish her sentence, you get down your stool and leave the mess hall, ditching them both without a single word. 

You need to disappear! And quickly! 

------------------------------------------------- 

Thrawn lifts his cup to his lips elegantly, peacefully sipping the scorching hot caff. 

But inside he is anything but peaceful. 

“I am sorry, sir.” Karyn Faro finally says, tensing up before her full glass. 

“What for?” Thrawn asks, putting his down delicately, eyes fixed on his cup. 

She purses her lips, clearly embarrassed and uneasy. 

“This was not planned.” She explains. 

“I know.” He simply responds, “You are not one to expose other’s affairs.” He reassures her. 

He contemplates his reflection in the dark beverage, the steam lazily rising towards the ceiling while his stomach drops low. 

Is it how you truly see him? How you perceive his personhood? Is it his true value in your heart? 

He did not intend to listen to you! He just wanted to sit in your vicinity while drinking his caff and then anonymously leave without you noticing he was even there, leaving you two speaking peacefully. He did not intend to pry in your private conversation so impolitely! 

But when he understood you were talking about him he could not help but perk his ear. 

He almost froze hearing you professing your love for him and for a split second his soul sang. 

Only for the high to crash down spectacularly with your next words. 

So this is it, then? Your choice is made and your opinion is decided. This relationship will not be? 

You will not give him even a single chance to prove his worth? 

And he will let you go without trying to correct you? 

And everything will be over without even starting. 

You will now avoid him until he accepts a transfer request and he will never see you ever again, only hearing rumors of you thriving away from him, leaving him alone and cold to face his destiny and fate? 

Without your support? 

Without the music of your voice to help him carry through? 

Without the reflection of light in your gorgeous eyes to appease his worries? 

Without the warmth of your reassuring presence at his side? 

... 

No. 

He slams his cup down and stands on his feet. 

“Sir?” Commodore Faro asks as he walks away, decided. 

He can’t. 

This is beyond him. 

This is the first time he is in love, he simply cannot let you go without at least trying to plead his case! 

This would kill him. 

He knew it was dangerous. Deep down he knew that keeping you at his side was not the tactical-sounding choice. He prophetized before that keeping you around would give you too much power over him, but he would lie if he did not admit that he hoped it would happen deep down his soul. That your grip on his heart was as strangling as it was soothing, that a brush of your hand could command his mood. 

Your power over him was nothing about hierarchy, was not wicked or dangerous like those he experienced before in the Ascendancy and the Empire. It was comforting, soothing, soft but strong. 

The kind of power he would submit to with glee because he knew no harm could ever come of it. Because that power was meant to bring you together... 

He just cannot! 

He walks deadly focused ahead, with long strides in the corridors of the Chimaera. His shift resumes in less than 5 minutes but this is the least of his worries right now! 

For the very first time in his life, work will wait. He has to clear the air with you first! 

It doesn’t take too much time for him to find you. He is quicker than you and he would not let you escape like that! 

You are walking rapidly toward your cabin to lock yourself up most probably. Seeing your back walking away from him like that infuriates him somehow, he is offended! 

“Commander (Y/n) (F/n), stop!” He exclaims with an authoritative voice. 

You shudder, but instead of obeying you pick up the pace. 

You...! 

“Commander! I order you to stop right now!” He orders louder, accelerating behind you. 

You take four more steps before giving up and stop. You remain still, back turned to him, awaiting his next commands. 

He approaches you, already regretting his order. He closes the distance between you and places his hand on your shoulder. 

You shudder at the contact and he retracts it immediately. 

“Commander (F/n)...(Y/n), I am sorry.” He finally announces after several seconds of silence and stillness, “I would like to discuss some of your words earlier.” 

“Stop.” you finally speak. 

Thrawn almost gulp at your tone 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“I said stop.” You repeat, “I do not have to hear that.” 

Thrawn squints. This is the very first time you cut him like that. This is the first time a subordinate ever cut him... 

“I can take an earful if I make a professional mistake. But that... You do not have any right to impose that on me.” You explain. 

“Turn around and face me.” He orders softly. 

Your hands roll into fists but you slowly turn toward him. You take care not to look into his eyes, preferring to focus on his Grand Admiral badge. Your lips are pressed in a thin line, displeasure clearly apparent on your face. 

Thrawn refrains from cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold you lovingly. Instead, he claps them behind his back, preparing himself for the battle ahead. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“I simply wish to talk.” He reiterates, “This is not an unreasonable demand.” 

Your nostril flares but you add nothing. 

“(Y/n), is what you said true?” He demands sternly. 

So he did hear you, as you feared.  

“Sir, this is highly unprofessional.” 

“I am aware, but I feel like we need to have this discussion.” 

“No, we do not. If you insist I will file a report for sexual harassment.” You bite back, acidic. 

You need to cut that conversation short. You need to escape. 

“With what proofs?” Thrawn tilts his head. 

The tone is not mocking or threatening, it is calm, assured, and simply factual. You both know you have nothing against him, he never tried anything against your consent and always remained within the bounds of morality. 

“We both know you will do none of that, (Y/n). You are too good to make false accusations on such a grave matter.” 

You greet your teeth as you raise your frowning gaze to meet his. 

“Am I?” 

His stern and cold expression relaxes to let appear a tight, fond smile as the glow of his eyes seems to brighten. 

“Of course. Your ethics are too strong to slander an innocent man and tarnish victims’ testimony of such a heinous crime.” 

You snarl, flashing your teeth to him. 

But you have no rebuttal. He is right. You would not do such a thing to victims who already have difficulties to have their voices heard. 

“I simply wish to clear the air and tell you my truth.” He takes another step toward you, “This is all I am asking for.” 

The smile is gone but quiet hope burns in his red eyes. 

You gulp. You told your sentiments to Karyn, but revealing them to his face, admitting them to his eyes... That would kill you on the spot! 

“I wish to hear it from you. Tell me the truth, please.” He insists with a softer tone 

Almost... begging. 

Your lungs tighten in your ribcage, preventing you from breathing correctly while your throat dries up. You open your mouth be no sound escapes you. 

“Take your time.” Thrawn invites, his eyes shining so bright you cannot see any pupils anymore. 

“What for?!” You spit annoyed, “What would ever come of that discussion anyway?! Our expectations do not coincide!” 

Thrawn seems to tense up ever so slightly at your words, like he was hurt. 

But that would mean you have the means to reach and hurt him, and you seriously doubt you do. Either way, he needs to hear it, you cannot just brush past all that like the world is a wonderful peaceful place. You both have jobs and a relationship would just complicate everything! 

“You do no-” Thrawn stops immediately, looking behind you suddenly, “Someone is coming.” 

You turn your head full of hope. Finally, your ticket to exit that predicament! 

But before you can see anyone or anything you feel a large hand grabbing your arm and pulling you. You yelp in surprise when Thrawn pulls you inside a cramped and dark room and the door slams shut behind you. 

You pull yourself together and realize you are inside a closet. A very small closet. So small Thrawn needs to press you against himself for it to hold you both inside. You gasp, your cheek pressed against his large muscular chest, his long arms wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Sir!” You whisper indignantly, “This is-” 

“Silence.” He shushes you, “They are approaching...” 

You huff but remain silent. After some seconds you can hear a group of people discussing and approaching the door. You tense up, praying no one will open it and bust you in Thrawn’s arms... 

“Relax.” He whispers with his rich deep voice, a hand coming to caress your hair to soothe you like you were a cat or something. 

“This was unnecessary, Sir!” You complain with a low voice. 

“You would have preferred we continue this private conversation with them around?” He responds deadpan. 

You growl, putting your hands on his pecs to put some distance between you, but his grip is firm around you and the closet is really confined. You abandon that idea and give up, awaiting for the group to walk away, and then you’ll rush out and sprint away from the Chiss. 

You try to calm down your beating heart, feeling Grand Admiral Thrawn’s high body temperature through his uniform, your cheek getting pleasantly warm at his contact. 

Is that... Is that his heart that you feel beating against your cheek? 

You refrain from sniggering. Of course, this is his heart, but it amuses you to realize that he does have one... He who is always so stern and cold, detached and unbothered does have a heart after all! 

You close your eyes, silently focusing on the steady drum in his chest. If they open the closet door and bust you, you cannot do anything to stop it now, no use in stressing yourself out or causing trouble in the confined space. 

Did Thrawn feel you relaxing in his embrace? A soft and deep rumble starts in his chest and throat, like a...  

“Chiss can purr?” You murmur flabergasted. 

“Indeed.” He reveals, “Pardon me, I have some difficulties keeping it at bay with you in my arms.” 

You add nothing, too shocked by this revelation. 

“It isn’t... unpleasant.” You finally admit, a bit reluctantly. 

The purr deepens at your praise and he lays his chin on the top of your head. For some second you wonder if he is about to kiss your head, but he remains like that, continuing to caress your hair, unbothered. 

“Why don’t you want to tell me the truth?” He finally asks after a minute of silence, listening to the group that seems to have stopped just before your hiding spot. 

“There is nothing to say.” 

“You revealed your sentiment to Commodore Karyn. Why revealing them to me is impossible for you?” 

You sigh longly, eyes lost in the darkness of the broom closet, trying to formulate a coherent sentence with all those sentiments and emotions raging inside of you. 

“I have been hurt in the past.” You just say. 

“And you are afraid I will hurt you the same?” Thrawn whispers with his rich voice. 

“I am not ‘afraid’ you will, I know you will.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“They did it out of commodity and maybe malice, you would do it out of necessity.” 

“I cannot imagine a situation where I would hurt you, even out of necessity.” He negociates. 

“No, it’s just...” You sigh, taking a deep breath, “I have been used before and now I want someone who would make me their priority, not just an afterthought!” 

His grip tightens ever so slightly around your shoulders and his purr stops, signifying that he is closely listening to our worries. 

“I do not plan to make you an afterthought in any capacity. If we start a relationship I will make sure to take care of you to the best of my capacities.” 

“You are a Grand Admiral, your agenda is full to the brim, and your days are packed. What kind of attention can you still spare at the end of a shift? You will drop like a fly, Sir.” 

His hand caressing your hair stops and sneaks under your chin to make you tilt your head to face him. You press your lips in a thin line as he details your face with his inquisitive gaze, unraveling your soul with his burning orbs, unclothing your heart to reveal every febrile hope and fear. 

"How can you be so sure of those claims?” He simply asks, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“It is simple logic, Sir. You will never put me before your job, and you should not do it. But I need someone ready to put me first for once... Just once.” 

He releases your chin to cup your cheek with his large palm, his thumb caressing your thin skin tenderly. 

“(Y/n), I do not know what the future has in store for us, but I know I will forever regret it if I do not try with you.” He whispers, “You are right, I cannot put you before my work. But that does not mean that you should come after it. I can manage two important matters at the same time, I can take care of you while leading us to victory.” 

“A lot of exes made the same promise and they left me in the dirt when they got bored.” You simply assess, feeling tired of that charade. 

How many times did you dance that choreography already? Too many. 

“(Y/n), do you truly think I would do that? That I would waste both of our time for mindless fun and abandon you after? If I propose to you it is because I am confident in my capacity to give you everything you need. Look into my eyes and tell me: Is this how you think I am?” 

You look into his sihny eyes and sigh. 

“No... I do not think you would do that...” You concede, “You are not malicious.” 

“Then why not give us a chance?” He presses his forehead against yours, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. 

“Because... I could not survive you...” Your throat tightens as you speak. 

“What do you mean?” He demands with a soothing tone. 

“I may have been able to piece myself back together after them... But you, Sir, you would kill me. You would be my death.” You admit, lowering your tone. 

He tilts your head and reverently kisses your forehead in the secret darkness of the closet. 

“Then let me be your life. Every day I will be the force propelling you forward if you accept to intertwine your fate with mine... If you allow me to take your hand I will devote myself to you. You deserve to be loved and cared for, (Y/n) and it would be my privilege to make it my duty.” 

You sigh, tired, but lean on the warmth of his palm. 

“Promise me to think about it, (Y/n).” 

You hesitate, remembering all the tears and sleepless nights. 

But those eyes... So assured and confident, determined and reassuring... 

“... All right.” 

He brushes his nose with yours, his purr resuming. 

“I love you, (Y/n). You do not need to respond yet, just know that I adore you.” 

In the secrecy of that tight closet, you press yourself against Grand Admiral Thrawn, selfishly reveling in the love and warmth that you refuse to give back for now.  

“I do not promise anything.” You temper. 

“I know. But the fact that you agreed to consider it is enough for me. I will patiently wait for you and your response. And whatever your response may be, I will not stop loving you, even from afar.” 

You hesitate but finally wrap your arms around his chest, and think you felt his heart jolt at that, but you cannot be sure. What you can be sure, however, is the resuming of the purring. 

You do not know what the future holds for you, but right now, his embrace is the only place you want to be in.  

Even if it is selfish. 

Even if it may be the only one time you ever feel it around you. 

But maybe... 

Not. 

“If tie your fate to mine, either in love or friendship, I will devote myself to you. I promise you in this instant.” 

And he reverently kisses your forehead as to seal his words. 

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @Thrawnalani @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @elise2174 @davesrightshoe @Holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni 

[kika-hearts]

CAREER AND ASTROLOGY

I've found it is easy to see people's inclinations in terms of future careers in birthcharts. Most people would look at the MC. But I'm here to tell you that is wrong. Or at least, possibly could. I'm going to explain. In the past, there wasn't things as careers. Most kids inherited their parent's jobs and the ones who could afford it, turned to hobbies like writing, philosophy and etc. As so, people would be known by their "job" (even if they didn't make a living out of it like a lot of writers and philosophers from the past).

This could also take another turn. There are the money houses and then there is the 10th house. The 10th house isn't a money house, it is the service you give to society, (again another thing you would be known for). But lately we have associated this house with career, as now it is something we give back to community (since if nobody worked, society would stop working). So if you want you can also take a look at your 10th house.

The 2nd house is mostly associated with money and resources. So we are going to mostly look at that house and also at the chart ruler (planet that rules your ascendant).

Note: I would like to point out there are other money houses: the 5th (money won from contests, bets, gambles, etc) , 8th (money from other people, like inheritances, taxes, borrowed) , and 11th (gains from profession)

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 1st house or in Aries

entrepreneur, freelancer, actor or model, coach or mentor, personal trainer (especially if mars is exalted), public figure, activist, politician

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 2nd house or in taurus

banker, florist, farming, singer, voice actor, real estate, chef, artisan, financial advisor, retail, luxury goods, sales, jeweller,

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 3rd house

writer, social worker, journalist, blogger, social media manager, teacher, data analyst, driver, delivery, logistics, public speaker, podcast host, marketer, advertiser

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 4th house

real estate agent, interior design, chef, cateerer (especially home based), architect, builder, stay at home parents, family business, psychologist, working with kids, therapist, genealogist, historian, builder

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 5th house

artist, actor, performer, musician, dancer, content creator, influencer, teacher, fashion/beauty industry, entrepreneur, gambler, game developer, writer

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 6th house

nurse, doctor, veterinary (or just working with animals-especially small), health Care worker, nutritionist, wellness coach, assistant, secretary, office manager, analyst, technician, military, public servant,

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 7th house

lawyer, mediator, diplomat, therapist, consult, counselor, business coach, pr specialist, brand ambassador, wedding planner, matchmaker, Artist manager/agent, something to do with clients one-to-one

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 8th house

psychologist, psychiatrist, healer, tax advisor, inheritance lawyer, mortician, crime scene analyst, sex worker, financial investor, accountant

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 9th house

writer, professor, scholar, philosopher, lawyer, publisher, editor, translator, foreign affairs, diplomats, tour guide, flight attendant, pilot, working in company abroad or international

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 10th house

ceo, executive, manager, politician, leader, influencer or public figure, professional in any field, judge, authority figure

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 11th house

tech entrepreneur, software engineer, social worker, activist, fundraiser, event organiser, pr, community manager, hr, astrologer, innovator,

2nd house/10th house/ascendant's ruler in 12th house

artist, poet, filmmaker, monk, psychologist, dream analyst, hospital/hospice/prison worker, researcher, charity worker, working with big animals

[allsouls-emma]

heyy bestie!! i noticed you’re also an f1 fan (as am i) i was wondering if you could write an f1 driver reader! x leon marchand! preferably a ferrari driver (forza ferrari always)🤞

✧Scarlett Red in a Ferrari ✧

─ Léon Marchand x OC, Léon Marchand x Reader, f1 driver reader! x leon marchand!

OMG OMG @scottstr3et, I AM SO EXCITED. I adore F1 (Mclaren Girlie at heart) this was so much fun!! i really hope you love this as much as i did!.

Warnings: f1 driver reader! x leon marchand!, Strangers to lovers, silverstone, F1 and swimming crossover, Fluff!

The roar of the Ferrari engine was a symphony Y/N had dreamt about for years. Every twist and turn of the Maranello track felt surreal, as if they were floating on a cloud made of horsepower and adrenaline. This was their first official day as a Ferrari driver—a dream so vivid it felt almost tangible, like the very wheel they were gripping.

"Y/N, how’s the car feeling?" the engineer's voice crackled through the radio, breaking their reverie.

Y/N's heart pounded in sync with the engine. "It’s responsive, stable... feels perfect. Ready to push it."

"Copy that. Let's get you warmed up with a few laps."

Y/N pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the immense power surge through the car as they exited the pit lane. The sensation was overwhelming—an intoxicating blend of fear, excitement, and sheer determination. The car danced through the corners, gripping the asphalt with ease. Every vibration through the steering wheel communicated the car's every nuance, and Y/N responded instinctively, as if the car was an extension of their body.

But with the thrill came pressure. Driving for Ferrari wasn't just about skill; it was about legacy, and Y/N knew the weight of that responsibility. The team was expecting results. The Tifosi—Ferrari's passionate fanbase—were expecting miracles.

As Y/N completed the first few laps, the rhythm started to set in, nerves slowly morphing into confidence. It was during the cool-down lap that the thought crept in—could they really do this? Compete at the highest level, under the brightest spotlight?

"Good job, Y/N. Bring it back to the pits," the engineer's voice instructed, breaking through their thoughts.

Y/N eased off the throttle, guiding the car back into the pit lane. After parking and stepping out, the intense heat from the car mixed with the cool Maranello air, creating a strange but comforting sensation. The team was gathered around, checking data, and analyzing every second of the run.

Y/N took off their helmet, running a hand through sweat-dampened hair. The sight of the Ferrari crew bustling about with purpose made their heart swell with pride. They were really here.

"Solid run out there," the team principal said, clapping Y/N on the shoulder. "We’ll go over the data, but things are looking promising."

"Thanks," Y/N replied, trying to keep their voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through them.

As they walked away from the car, the reality of their new life started to settle in. This was just the beginning of a grueling season—one that would test them mentally, physically, and emotionally. But Y/N was ready to face it head-on. After all, this was their dream.

The season opener in Bahrain was fast approaching, and Y/N was putting in extra hours at the simulator, fine-tuning their understanding of the car. The Ferrari hospitality suite buzzed with activity as preparations were in full swing, but Y/N's focus was singular.

"You're going to wear yourself out before the race even starts," a familiar voice teased.

Y/N turned around to find Charles Leclerc leaning casually against the doorway, a small smirk playing on his lips. The Monegasque driver had been with Ferrari for a few seasons now, and his presence in the team was both comforting and challenging—a benchmark to measure oneself against.

"Just making sure I’m as prepared as possible," Y/N replied with a smile. "Can’t leave anything to chance."

Charles chuckled. "Smart, but don’t forget to live a little. The season is long, and you need to find balance."

Y/N nodded, appreciating the advice. "What about you? How do you find that balance?"

Charles shrugged. "I go home, spend time with family, or just do something completely unrelated to racing. It helps keep the mind fresh. You should try it."

Y/N knew he was right. The pressure of being a Ferrari driver was immense, and they needed to find a way to manage it without burning out.

"Actually," Charles continued, "there’s a swimming event this weekend in Monaco. I know you're new to the team, but you should come. A lot of the drivers are going, and it could be a good way to unwind before the chaos starts."

Y/N hesitated. Swimming events weren’t really their scene, but the idea of taking a break and bonding with other drivers was appealing. Plus, Charles had a point—getting out of the racing mindset, even briefly, could be beneficial.

"Alright, I’m in," Y/N finally agreed.

"Great. It’ll be fun, I promise," Charles said with a grin. "And who knows, you might meet some interesting people."

---

That weekend, Y/N found themselves in Monaco, surrounded by a different kind of athlete. The energy was more relaxed, yet still competitive. The event was packed, with the audience buzzing as swimmers took to the pool. Y/N was impressed by the sheer physicality of the sport, the way the swimmers cut through the water with such grace and power.

Charles had been right—this was exactly the kind of break they needed.

"Hey, you made it!" Charles said, walking up to Y/N with a drink in hand.

"Yeah, you were right. This is a nice change of pace," Y/N replied, watching as the next race started.

As they were talking, a swimmer emerged from the pool, his dark hair slicked back and water dripping off his muscular frame. He pulled off his cap and goggles, revealing a strikingly handsome face, his intense blue eyes scanning the crowd. There was something magnetic about him, a confidence in the way he carried himself that caught Y/N's attention.

"That’s Leon Marchand," Charles said, noticing Y/N's gaze. "He’s one of the top swimmers in the world right now. Won a bunch of medals already."

Y/N nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. "He looks like he was born for this."

"He probably was," Charles replied with a chuckle. "Come on, I’ll introduce you."

They made their way over to where Leon was toweling off, the crowd around them buzzing with excitement. When Charles approached, Leon looked up, a friendly smile breaking through his focused expression.

"Hey, Charles! Good to see you," Leon said, his voice warm despite the exhaustion of the race.

"Leon, this is Y/N. They’re new to Ferrari this year," Charles introduced them with a casual wave.

Y/N extended a hand, trying to ignore the sudden flutter of nerves. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Leon replied, his handshake firm but not overpowering. His eyes lingered on Y/N's for a moment, and there was a spark of recognition, like he was trying to place them.

"You did great out there," Y/N said, trying to fill the silence.

"Thanks. I’ve been putting in a lot of work lately. You’re with Ferrari, right? That must be intense."

Y/N nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under Leon's gaze. "Yeah, it’s been a lot, but I’m ready for the challenge."

"I’m sure you are," Leon replied, his smile widening slightly. "It’s not every day you meet someone who drives at 300 kilometers an hour for a living."

"Well, it’s not every day you meet someone who swims like a dolphin," Y/N shot back, surprising themselves with their quick wit.

Leon laughed, a genuine sound that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "Touché."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found themselves drawn to Leon’s easygoing nature and the way he seemed genuinely interested in their world. They talked about the pressures of their respective sports, the rigorous training schedules, and the sacrifices they had to make to stay on top. There was an understanding between them that transcended words—a shared recognition of what it meant to be the best in your field.

When the evening wound down and the crowd began to disperse, Leon turned to Y/N, his expression softening. "I’m glad we met today. Maybe we could hang out sometime, when we’re not both in the middle of our crazy schedules?"

Y/N felt a warmth spread through them at the invitation. "I’d like that."

As they exchanged numbers and said their goodbyes, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like something significant had just begun. Maybe Charles was right—finding balance didn’t mean stepping away from the competition; it meant finding someone who understood it just as much as you did.

The weeks following their encounter with Leon were a whirlwind. The F1 season kicked off with a bang, and Y/N was thrust into the chaos of race weekends, media commitments, and constant travel. Yet, amidst the frenzy, there was a constant thought that kept them grounded—Leon.

They’d texted sporadically at first, brief conversations about their respective sports and the occasional joke. But as the races piled up and the pressures mounted, those texts became a lifeline for Y/N. Leon had a way of making them laugh, even on the toughest days, and his encouragement was a steady source of support.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves looking forward to hearing from him, their conversations becoming more frequent and personal. They’d talk late into the night, sharing stories about their childhoods, their dreams, and their fears. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing day, even though they hadn’t seen each other in person since that day in Monaco.

One evening, after a particularly grueling race in Spain where Y/N finished just off the podium, they found themselves alone in their hotel room, scrolling through messages when Leon’s name popped up on the screen.

**Leon:** Tough race today. You did well, though. P4 is still a great result. You should be proud.

Y/N smiled at the message, the frustration of missing out on the podium slightly easing as they typed back a reply.

**Y/N:** Thanks, Leon. It’s tough to come so close, but yeah, I’ll take it. How’s training going for you?

**Leon:** Intense as always, but I’m getting there. Actually, I’ve got a bit of a break coming up next weekend. What’s your next race?

**Y/N:** Silverstone. Big one. The British fans are something else.

**Leon:** Sounds amazing. Would you mind some company?

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. The thought of having Leon at Silverstone, cheering them on, filled them with a warmth they hadn’t felt in a long time.

**Y/N:** I’d love that. It’ll be chaotic, but having you there would be awesome.

**Leon:** It’s a date, then. I’ll be your personal cheerleader.

Y/N grinned at the message, their mind already racing ahead to what it would be like to have Leon there. The idea of him being in the crowd, supporting them, made the upcoming race feel even more significant.

---

Silverstone was electric. The air buzzed with excitement as the fans poured into the stands, draped in the Union Jack, chanting for their favorite drivers. For Y/N, this race felt different. The pressure was there, of course, but it was accompanied by a sense of anticipation they hadn’t felt before.

Leon arrived on Saturday, just in time for qualifying. Y/N met him in the Ferrari hospitality suite, and as soon as they saw him, they couldn’t help but smile. He looked relaxed, dressed casually in a polo shirt and jeans, but his presence had an immediate calming effect on Y/N.

"Hey, you made it!" Y/N said, pulling him into a quick, but warm hug.

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," Leon replied, his smile just as bright as Y/N’s. "This place is insane. I’ve never seen anything like it."

"It’s definitely a different kind of crazy," Y/N laughed. "Come on, let me show you around."

They spent the next hour exploring the paddock, with Y/N introducing Leon to various team members and fellow drivers. Leon was a hit—his easygoing nature and genuine interest in the sport winning everyone over. Y/N could tell he was fascinated by the intricacies of F1, asking questions about the car setups, race strategies, and what it felt like to drive at such high speeds.

When it was time for qualifying, Leon took his seat in the Ferrari suite, watching intently as Y/N climbed into the car. The qualifying session was intense, with Y/N pushing the car to its limits around Silverstone’s fast, flowing corners. The roar of the crowd was deafening as Y/N crossed the line, securing P2 for the race.

Afterward, Y/N found Leon waiting for them, a proud smile on his face. "P2! You were incredible out there!"

"Thanks, but it’s only half the job," Y/N replied, still buzzing from the session. "Tomorrow’s the real test."

"You’ve got this," Leon said, his confidence in Y/N unwavering. "I’ll be cheering you on the whole way."

Y/N felt a surge of emotion at his words. Leon’s belief in them was like a shot of adrenaline, fueling their determination to deliver on race day.

---

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, the perfect day for racing. The atmosphere at Silverstone was electric, with over a hundred thousand fans packed into the grandstands, their cheers echoing around the historic circuit.

Y/N felt a mixture of nerves and excitement as they prepared for the race. They could feel the energy in the air, the sense that something special was about to happen. And knowing Leon was there, watching, only intensified those feelings.

As the race began, Y/N got off to a strong start, maintaining their position in the top three. The battle for the lead was fierce, with every lap pushing the drivers to their limits. The corners flew by in a blur, the roar of the engine drowning out everything else.

Leon watched from the suite, his heart pounding as Y/N fought for every inch on the track. He’d never experienced anything like this before—the sheer speed, the danger, the skill it took to control such a powerful machine. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

As the race entered its final stages, Y/N found themselves in a tight battle for the lead. The car ahead was fast, but Y/N was faster, and with a few laps to go, they made their move, diving down the inside at Stowe corner to take the lead.

The crowd erupted as Y/N crossed the line in first place, the checkered flag waving them home. It was a moment of pure elation, a victory that meant the world to them.

After parking the car and jumping out, Y/N was greeted by their team, hugs and cheers all around. But it was Leon they sought out first, their eyes scanning the crowd until they found him making his way through the throng of people.

As soon as their eyes met, Y/N broke into a run, their heart pounding with joy. Leon caught them as they reached him, pulling them into a tight embrace. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that moment of pure happiness.

"You did it!" Leon exclaimed, his voice full of pride and emotion.

"I couldn’t have done it without you," Y/N replied, their voice thick with emotion. The adrenaline of the race was still coursing through them, but it was mixed with something else—a deep, overwhelming feeling for the man standing in front of them.

Without thinking, Y/N leaned in, capturing Leon’s lips in a kiss. It was spontaneous, driven by the rush of victory and the connection they’d been building over the past few weeks. The kiss was brief but intense, a moment of pure passion that took them both by surprise.

When they pulled back, Y/N saw the surprise in Leon’s eyes, but also something else—something that mirrored the emotions they were feeling.

"Wow," Leon whispered, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "That was... unexpected."

Y/N laughed, their heart swelling with affection. "Sorry, I just... I couldn’t help it."

"Don’t apologize," Leon said, his hand cupping Y/N’s cheek. "I’m glad you did."

Before they could say anything more, the team was calling for Y/N to head to the podium. Y/N looked back at Leon, their eyes locking once more.

"Stay close, okay? I want you to be there when I get off the podium."

"I’ll be right here," Leon promised, his smile warm and reassuring.

With one last squeeze of Leon’s hand, Y/N turned and headed toward the podium, the cheers of the crowd ringing in their ears. As they stepped onto the top step, the weight of the moment hit them—the culmination of all their hard work, their dreams, and the support of the people who believed in them.

And as the national anthem played and the champagne flowed, Y/N’s thoughts were with Leon. They knew this was just the beginning of something incredible, both on and off the track.

When the podium celebrations were over, Y/N quickly made their way back to Leon, who was waiting just where he’d promised. Without a word, Y/N pulled him into another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate, a promise of what was to come.

As they finally pulled away, Y/N rested their forehead against Leon’s, their smiles mirroring each other.

"Looks like I’ve got another reason to love racing," Y/N said softly.

Leon chuckled, his eyes shining with happiness. "And I’ve got a new favorite driver."

Together, they walked away from the podium, hand in hand, ready to face whatever the future held.

[annabelle-creart]

The Worst and the Best years of our Lives

The time Heatwave noticed Boulder wasn't okay

---------

Boulder was new in Sigma-17, despite that, as an engineer and paramedic they were the first one to get on rescues the moment they started, to check on the security of structures or check on people. It was hard for bots to die in these times, mechanics were advanced in investigation and structures were safe most of the time

And yet, some things happen, and consequently some other things go wrong

Heatwave and Boulder had been living in that flat as roommates since they were assigned to Sigma-17, the station gave them those, even if Heatwave prefered to live with Chase the paperwork and their jobs distracted them from thinking on changing roomates until Blades finally adapted to Chase's lifestyle and Chase understood Blades' methods on living, and for Heatwave, living with Boulder was like trying to talk with a half-damaged walky-talky, sometimes it listened and repeated, sometimes it didn't, but with time and effort Heatwave finally got why Boulder was like that and got accomplished to it, and Boulder could make sense of Heatwave's wishes on shared spaces. Just like that, they ended up knowing each other a bit more each day, both in duty and at home, and that day Heatwave could recognize something was wrong

You'll see, Boulder, as their name, is a rock, is a bad lier, but is really good at making nice faceplates when neccessary, is like an unmovable force in some aspects, but is not eternal

That early morning Heatwave knew something was wrong when Boulder got out of berth before the alarm ringed, and worst of all, after just recharging for like 2 hours when the normal amount of recharge should be 4 to 6 hours each two or three days, but both had been awake for like four days in a row, and Boulder sleeps like if they were dead, nothing can wake up that machine except an annoying, noisy alarm, meanwhile Heatwave would get up only with the sound of the wind. The moment Boulder turned on their data pad, Heatwave's sensors made him wake

"Why are you awake?" Heatwave asked, well, barely, his voice box was still adapting to the inactivity

"Did the volume woke you up?" Boulder murmured, really ashamed for it

"Yeh" Heatwave grunted, about to get sleep in any moment "can't you recharge?"

"I'm not that tired"

Damn liar, thought Heatwave, it was obvious how much those big optics of them changed size with recharge depravation, now they were tinier

"Do you want to talk or something?" Heatwave offered, just to make sure

"No, I'm fine, go recharge if you want" Boulder's voice sounded a mix of tiredness and evasion, a weird kind of one

"Okay" Heatwave murmured, already preparing himself to go back to recharge, what else could he do? Is not like Boulder will tell him, right...? And yet "if you wanna talk or something, or if something is wrong, I'm here to listen, you know? Don't worry about waking me up" Heatwave said to the bot with a final look in the dark, Boulder smiled at him

"Thank you" they replied, feeling the gesture "But not today" Boulder's last words didn't include a smile, but Heatwave knew they meant it, and the worst thing to do for that was making pressure on the wound

"I get it" Heatwave finally answered "have a good night then" he pressed himself against the berth and tried to get sleep with no result. A couple of minutes later

"Heatwave?" Boulder called him

"Hm?" He barely replied

"How do you deal with failure?"

Hm?... what kind of question was rhat...?

OH!

Oh...

Now Heatwave got from where was the worry

Heatwave's memory passed in front of his optics like a record. The two bots Boulder and Goldy from Sigma-18 found on the building, Goldy and Boulder saw a strange signal and as paramedics and engineers they searched on the building guiding the expedition with Heatwave and other four rescuers but when they reached them, it was already too late. The way how their energon got out of their exposed chasis still mixed terribly Heatwave's tanks

"My way to deal with things is not the best, actually" Heatwave replied softly, softer than ever, with a hint of a laugh "I tend to keep all the guilt, even if I don't deserve it" Heatwave couldn't look at Boulder, just in case their optics were too much to handle "I only can comfirm something, if we're thinking on the same thing, is okay to feel that you could do more, but is not okay to keep a guilt that is not yours, or even unexistent. Just take that on mind" Heatwave didn't expect an answer just like Boulder never made another word

And the rest of the night was so quiet both finally had at least a decent amount of sleep

[rosemarymoodboards]

MBTI Dream Jobs

Part One: Introverts

Introverts shape the world from the inside out.

Without them, the world becomes loud, shallow, and lost.

ISTJ – The Reliable Architect

Perfect job: Judge, Logistics Manager, Librarian

Why: They bring clarity to chaos. They’re the bones beneath the skin of society.

Without it, they feel: Like a blueprint no one followed.

INFJ – The Soul Strategist

Perfect job: Social Change Architect, Psychologist, Spiritual Counselor

Why: They want to guide people inward toward growth and understanding. They’re here to heal systems, not just people.

Without it, they feel: Like a lighthouse no one looks at.

ISFJ – The Devoted Stabilizer

Perfect job: Pediatric Nurse, Archivist, School Counselor

Why: They’re protectors of tradition and comfort. They make life gentle again.

Without it, they feel: Like a warm hug rejected.

INTJ – The Mastermind Mapper

Perfect job: Futurist, Systems Designer, Research Lead

Why: They live for long-term vision. They need autonomy, strategy, and the power to build new structures from the top down.

Without it, they feel: Like a queen or king without a kingdom.

ISTP – The Hands-On Problem Solver

Perfect job: Mechanic, Survivalist, Special Effects Technician

Why: They need to build, break, and fix things in the real world. Action over theory.

Without it, they feel: Like a blade kept in a drawer.

INFP – The Visionary Healer

Perfect job: Fiction Author, Art Therapist, Indie Game Creator

Why: They need emotional freedom and meaning. Creating beauty from pain is

Without it, they feel: Trapped in someone else’s story.

INTP – The Endless Experimenter

Perfect job: Inventor, Data Analyst, Philosopher-Engineer

Why: They need space to tinker, question everything, and reinvent the rules. Mental freedom is sacred.

Without it, they feel: Like their brain is in a cage.

ISFP – The Silent Artist

Perfect job: Tattoo Artist, Dancer, Ethical Fashion Designer

Why: They crave quiet beauty, physical expression, and emotional authenticity.

Without it, they feel: Like a song played with no sound.

[mitchipedia]

Everyone is cheating their way through college: ChatGPT has unraveled the entire academic project

James D. Walsh at New York Intelligencer writes a deeply researched article on how students at “large state schools, the Ivies, liberal-arts schools in New England, universities abroad, professional schools, and community colleges” … “are relying on AI to ease their way through every facet of their education…. take their notes during class, devise their study guides and practice tests, summarize novels and textbooks, and brainstorm, outline, and draft their essays. STEM students are using AI to automate their research and data analyses and to sail through dense coding and debugging assignments. ‘College is just how well I can use ChatGPT at this point,’ [said a Utah student].”

If you cheat your way through college, are you cheating yourself? Robbing yourself of the education you’re paying tens of thousands of years for? Or is college just a gate you pass through to get to a higher-paying job and higher social status?

[Troy Jollimore, a poet, philosopher, and Cal State Chico ethics professor,] who has been teaching writing for more than two decades, is now convinced that the humanities, and writing in particular, are quickly becoming an anachronistic art elective like basket-weaving. “Every time I talk to a colleague about this, the same thing comes up: retirement. When can I retire? When can I get out of this? That’s what we’re all thinking now,” he said. “This is not what we signed up for.” Williams, and other educators I spoke to, described AI’s takeover as a full-blown existential crisis. “The students kind of recognize that the system is broken and that there’s not really a point in doing this. Maybe the original meaning of these assignments has been lost or is not being communicated to them well.”

He worries about the long-term consequences of passively allowing 18-year-olds to decide whether to actively engage with their assignments. Would it accelerate the widening soft-skills gap in the workplace? If students rely on AI for their education, what skills would they even bring to the workplace? Lakshya Jain, a computer-science lecturer at the University of California, Berkeley, has been using those questions in an attempt to reason with his students. “If you’re handing in AI work,” he tells them, “you’re not actually anything different than a human assistant to an artificial-intelligence engine, and that makes you very easily replaceable. Why would anyone keep you around?” That’s not theoretical: The COO of a tech research firm recently asked Jain why he needed programmers any longer.

(Emphasis added by me.)

GenAI is a great assistant but if using GenAI is your only skill, why would anyone hire you?

GenAI is like Microsoft Office: It’s a tool. Everybody who works at a desk job nowadays needs to know how to use Office or its Google equivalent, but if using Office is all you know how to do, then you have no job skills.

The ideal of college as a place of intellectual growth, where students engage with deep, profound ideas, was gone long before ChatGPT. The combination of high costs and a winner-takes-all economy had already made it feel transactional, a means to an end. (In a recent survey, Deloitte found that just over half of college graduates believe their education was worth the tens of thousands of dollars it costs a year, compared with 76 percent of trade-school graduates.) In a way, the speed and ease with which AI proved itself able to do college-level work simply exposed the rot at the core. “How can we expect them to grasp what education means when we, as educators, haven’t begun to undo the years of cognitive and spiritual damage inflicted by a society that treats schooling as a means to a high-paying job, maybe some social status, but nothing more?” Jollimore wrote in a recent essay. “Or, worse, to see it as bearing no value at all, as if it were a kind of confidence trick, an elaborate sham?”

The article features Chungin “Roy” Lee, a twenty-something AI entrepreneur who has built tools — and businesses based on them — to enable people to use AI to cheat at college, on job interviews and even on dates.

“Every technological innovation has caused humanity to sit back and think about what work is actually useful,” [Lee] said. “There might have been people complaining about machinery replacing blacksmiths in, like, the 1600s or 1800s, but now it’s just accepted that it’s useless to learn how to blacksmith.”

If writing is going to be obsolete, like basket-weaving and blacksmithing, then so be it. I don’t worry about it. I write to set my thoughts in order, and I don’t anticipate stopping that.

As for work: If writing ceases to become a marketable skill … well, I’ll figure something out. “I’ll figure something out” has been a theme of my career.

[educationmore]

Python for Beginners: Launch Your Tech Career with Coding Skills

Are you ready to launch your tech career but don’t know where to start? Learning Python is one of the best ways to break into the world of technology—even if you have zero coding experience.

In this guide, we’ll explore how Python for beginners can be your gateway to a rewarding career in software development, data science, automation, and more.

Why Python Is the Perfect Language for Beginners

Python has become the go-to programming language for beginners and professionals alike—and for good reason:

Simple syntax: Python reads like plain English, making it easy to learn.

High demand: Industries spanning the spectrum are actively seeking Python developers to fuel their technological advancements.

Versatile applications: Python's versatility shines as it powers everything from crafting websites to driving artificial intelligence and dissecting data.

Whether you want to become a software developer, data analyst, or AI engineer, Python lays the foundation.

What Can You Do With Python?

Python is not just a beginner language—it’s a career-building tool. Here are just a few career paths where Python is essential:

Web Development: Frameworks like Django and Flask make it easy to build powerful web applications. You can even enroll in a Python Course in Kochi to gain hands-on experience with real-world web projects.

Data Science & Analytics: For professionals tackling data analysis and visualization, the Python ecosystem, featuring powerhouses like Pandas, NumPy, and Matplotlib, sets the benchmark.

Machine Learning & AI: Spearheading advancements in artificial intelligence development, Python boasts powerful tools such as TensorFlow and scikit-learn.

Automation & Scripting: Simple yet effective Python scripts offer a pathway to amplified efficiency by automating routine workflows.

Cybersecurity & Networking: The application of Python is expanding into crucial domains such as ethical hacking, penetration testing, and the automation of network processes.

How to Get Started with Python

Starting your Python journey doesn't require a computer science degree. Success hinges on a focused commitment combined with a thoughtfully structured educational approach.

Step 1: Install Python

Download and install Python from python.org. It's free and available for all platforms.

Step 2: Choose an IDE

Use beginner-friendly tools like Thonny, PyCharm, or VS Code to write your code.

Step 3: Learn the Basics

Focus on:

Variables and data types

Conditional statements

Loops

Functions

Lists and dictionaries

If you prefer guided learning, a reputable Python Institute in Kochi can offer structured programs and mentorship to help you grasp core concepts efficiently.

Step 4: Build Projects

Learning by doing is key. Start small:

Build a calculator

Automate file organization

Create a to-do list app

As your skills grow, you can tackle more complex projects like data dashboards or web apps.

How Python Skills Can Boost Your Career

Adding Python to your resume instantly opens up new opportunities. Here's how it helps:

Higher employability: Python is one of the top 3 most in-demand programming languages.

Better salaries: Python developers earn competitive salaries across the globe.

Remote job opportunities: Many Python-related jobs are available remotely, offering flexibility.

Even if you're not aiming to be a full-time developer, Python skills can enhance careers in marketing, finance, research, and product management.

If you're serious about starting a career in tech, learning Python is the smartest first step you can take. It’s beginner-friendly, powerful, and widely used across industries.

Whether you're a student, job switcher, or just curious about programming, Python for beginners can unlock countless career opportunities. Invest time in learning today—and start building the future you want in tech.

Globally recognized as a premier educational hub, DataMites Institute delivers in-depth training programs across the pivotal fields of data science, artificial intelligence, and machine learning. They provide expert-led courses designed for both beginners and professionals aiming to boost their careers.

Python Modules Explained - Different Types and Functions - Python Tutorial

[mariacallous]

KnowBe4, a US-based security vendor, revealed that it unwittingly hired a North Korean hacker who attempted to load malware into the company's network. KnowBe4 CEO and founder Stu Sjouwerman described the incident in a blog post this week, calling it a cautionary tale that was fortunately detected before causing any major problems.

"First of all: No illegal access was gained, and no data was lost, compromised, or exfiltrated on any KnowBe4 systems," Sjouwerman wrote. “This is not a data breach notification, there was none. See it as an organizational learning moment I am sharing with you. If it can happen to us, it can happen to almost anyone. Don't let it happen to you.”

KnowBe4 said it was looking for a software engineer for its internal IT AI team. The firm hired a person who, it turns out, was from North Korea and was "using a valid but stolen US-based identity" and a photo that was "enhanced" by artificial intelligence. There is now an active FBI investigation amid suspicion that the worker is what KnowBe4's blog post called "an Insider Threat/Nation State Actor."

KnowBe4 operates in 11 countries and is headquartered in Florida. It provides security awareness training, including phishing security tests, to corporate customers. If you occasionally receive a fake phishing email from your employer, you might be working for a company that uses the KnowBe4 service to test its employees' ability to spot scams.

Person Passed Background Check and Video Interviews

KnowBe4 hired the North Korean hacker through its usual process. "We posted the job, received résumés, conducted interviews, performed background checks, verified references, and hired the person. We sent them their Mac workstation, and the moment it was received, it immediately started to load malware," the company said.

Even though the photo provided to HR was fake, the person who was interviewed for the job apparently looked enough like it to pass. KnowBe4's HR team "conducted four video conference based interviews on separate occasions, confirming the individual matched the photo provided on their application," the post said. "Additionally, a background check and all other standard pre-hiring checks were performed and came back clear due to the stolen identity being used. This was a real person using a valid but stolen US-based identity. The picture was AI 'enhanced.'"

The two images at the top of this story are a stock photo and what KnowBe4 says is the AI fake based on the stock photo. The stock photo is on the left, and the AI fake is on the right.

The employee, referred to as "XXXX" in the blog post, was hired as a principal software engineer. The new hire's suspicious activities were flagged by security software, leading KnowBe4's Security Operations Center (SOC) to investigate:

On July 15, 2024, a series of suspicious activities were detected on the user beginning at 9:55 pm EST. When these alerts came in KnowBe4's SOC team reached out to the user to inquire about the anomalous activity and possible cause. XXXX responded to SOC that he was following steps on his router guide to troubleshoot a speed issue and that it may have caused a compromise. The attacker performed various actions to manipulate session history files, transfer potentially harmful files, and execute unauthorized software. He used a Raspberry Pi to download the malware. SOC attempted to get more details from XXXX including getting him on a call. XXXX stated he was unavailable for a call and later became unresponsive. At around 10:20 pm EST SOC contained XXXX's device.

“Fake IT Worker From North Korea”

The SOC analysis indicated that the loading of malware "may have been intentional by the user," and the group "suspected he may be an Insider Threat/Nation State Actor," the blog post said.

"We shared the collected data with our friends at Mandiant, a leading global cybersecurity expert, and the FBI, to corroborate our initial findings. It turns out this was a fake IT worker from North Korea," Sjouwerman wrote.

KnowBe4 said it can't provide much detail because of the active FBI investigation. But the person hired for the job may have logged into the company computer remotely from North Korea, Sjouwerman explained:

How this works is that the fake worker asks to get their workstation sent to an address that is basically an "IT mule laptop farm." They then VPN in from where they really physically are (North Korea or over the border in China) and work the night shift so that they seem to be working in US daytime. The scam is that they are actually doing the work, getting paid well, and give a large amount to North Korea to fund their illegal programs. I don't have to tell you about the severe risk of this. It's good we have new employees in a highly restricted area when they start, and have no access to production systems. Our controls caught it, but that was sure a learning moment that I am happy to share with everyone.

[astrologer04449]

Career Astrology 101: The Perfect Profession for Every Zodiac Sign

Choosing the right career can be one of life’s biggest challenges. While qualifications and interests matter, astrology offers deep insights into your natural talents, working style, and ideal professions. Your Zodiac Sign, ruled by specific planets and elements, plays a vital role in determining what career path aligns best with your personality and energy.

If you’ve ever felt stuck in the wrong job or unsure which path to take, a free chat with astrologer at AstroSevaTalk can guide you toward the right profession based on your astrological profile.

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

Ruling Planet: Mars Best Careers: Military, Sports, Entrepreneurship, Law Enforcement Aries are natural-born leaders—courageous, energetic, and competitive. They thrive in fast-paced, dynamic roles that demand action. If you’re an Aries unsure where to focus your energy, chat with an astrologer to unlock the right opportunities.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Ruling Planet: Venus Best Careers: Finance, Real Estate, Culinary Arts, Luxury Retail Taureans love stability, comfort, and material rewards. They’re excellent in careers involving wealth management or beauty. If you’re facing a crossroads in your job, a quick talk with an astrologer could help clarify your next steps.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

Ruling Planet: Mercury Best Careers: Journalism, Teaching, Marketing, Travel Geminis are communicators. They do best in jobs that involve writing, speaking, or multitasking. Struggling to decide between career options? Free chat with an astrologer can decode your strengths and suggest ideal paths.

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

Ruling Planet: Moon Best Careers: Nursing, Counseling, HR, Interior Design Cancerians are nurturing and intuitive. They excel in careers that involve care, home, or emotional intelligence. If you feel emotionally unfulfilled at work, talk with an astrologer to understand the planetary reasons and find better-suited roles.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Ruling Planet: Sun Best Careers: Performing Arts, Leadership, Fashion, Politics Leos are ambitious, creative, and love the spotlight. Careers that allow self-expression and influence are ideal. If you’re not getting the recognition you deserve, chat with an astrologer for tips on activating your 10th house of career.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)

Ruling Planet: Mercury Best Careers: Data Analysis, Healthcare, Editing, Research Detail-oriented and analytical, Virgos shine in precision-based fields. They enjoy order and service. If you’re looking to switch to a more mentally stimulating job, free chat with astrologer can guide your decision.

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

Ruling Planet: Venus Best Careers: Law, Diplomacy, Fashion Design, PR Librans are balanced, charming, and diplomatic. Ideal for people-oriented careers, they also have an eye for beauty. If your current job feels unharmonious, talk with an astrologer for planetary remedies and career clarity.

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

Ruling Planet: Mars/Ketu Best Careers: Psychology, Forensics, Investigation, Surgery Scorpios are intense and focused. They excel in transformative or secretive professions. If you’re not channeling your deep energy well, a chat with an astrologer can reveal hidden strengths in your chart.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Ruling Planet: Jupiter Best Careers: Teaching, Travel, Philosophy, Law Optimistic and adventurous, Sagittarians need careers that offer freedom and meaning. If you feel stuck or uninspired, use free chat with an astrologer to find a path that aligns with your higher ideals.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Ruling Planet: Saturn Best Careers: Engineering, Politics, Management, Administration Capricorns are ambitious and patient. They do well in structured environments with long-term goals. If work feels stagnant or unrewarding, talk with an astrologer for astrological guidance based on your birth chart.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)

Ruling Planet: Saturn/Uranus Best Careers: Technology, Innovation, Humanitarian Work, Astrology Aquarians are forward-thinkers and rebels. They excel in unconventional and futuristic fields. If you're drawn to something different, chat with an astrologer for insights into career changes that match your unique spirit.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

Ruling Planet: Jupiter/Neptune Best Careers: Art, Healing, Music, Spirituality Pisceans are dreamy, intuitive, and creative. Ideal careers include healing arts or spiritual paths. If you’re unsure how to monetize your passions, a free chat with an astrologer can provide a path forward with clarity and confidence.

Why Use Astrology to Choose a Career?

Career astrology goes beyond zodiac signs—it examines your 10th house, 6th house, Ascendant, and Dasha periods to identify the best timing and type of work suited for you. It can also:

Help during career confusion

Recommend auspicious job-switch dates

Identify hidden talents

Suggest remedies for job instability or delays

Choose AstroSevaTalk for Accurate Career Guidance

At AstroSevaTalk, you’ll get:

✅ Free chat with astrologer available 24x7 ✅ In-depth career reports based on your Kundli ✅ Real-time planetary transit advice ✅ Remedies for career growth and promotions ✅ Friendly, experienced astrologers ready to help

Whether you're at the beginning of your journey or facing a mid-career crisis, a simple talk with an astrologer can shift your direction for the better.

Final Thoughts

Your Zodiac sign offers a strong foundation for understanding your strengths and preferences. But for a deeper, more personalized look, astrology helps align your career with your soul’s journey.

🌟 Ready to find your ideal profession? 💬 Start a  chat with astrologer now at AstroSevaTalk 📞 Or talk with astrologer to map out your career destiny today!