#flap barrier system

[sarthisystems]

Explore smart security on Entrance Control Solutions. Learn how products like Flap Barrier in Jaipur, Boom Barrier in Jaipur, and Swing Barrier enhance safety and manage access efficiently for offices, schools, and residential complexes. Discover the benefits of integrating biometric systems for secure and seamless entry control. Ideal for those seeking modern access solutions in Jaipur.

[tripodturnstile2008]

Swing Gate Turnstile is generally called a slap door in the rail transit industry. Its barrier body (gate pendulum) is in the form of a plane with a particular area, perpendicular to the ground, and swings through rotation Implement obstructing and release. The materials of the blocking body are frequently stainless-steel, natural glass, and tempered glass. Some also use metal plates wrapped with unique flexible products (to minimize the damage triggered by hitting pedestrians). Bridge Smart Swing Barrier Gate The more popular name has actually been inherited from the original bridge-shaped structure. It includes a primary chassis and two movable swing bars. The swing bars can swing 180 ° or 90 ° to accomplish the function of discouraging or launching. Column Swing Barrier Gate The appearance of the primary devices is in the kind of a column, which can carry out the exact same functions as the bridge type Swing Gate Gate. It is identified by lower cost and less area. RS Security Co., Ltd Main Products: tripod turnstile gate, flap gate, full height gate, swing turnstile, hydraulic bollard, road blocker, access control, face recognition, barrier gate and so on. Application of Swing Barrier Turnstile It is generally used for passage entryway and exit management. Normally, only individuals are enabled to travel through, or people dragging baggage, and handicapped individuals. Considering that Swing Turnstile can achieve wider channel attributes than wing gates. The majority of Swing Turnstile passages can be mixed with pedestrians, bikes, mopeds, disabled cars and other non-motorized cars. element Swing Gate Turnstile structural structure: Swing Door Turnstile includes chassis, motion, swing arm, control system, infrared sensing unit, It includes control equipment and other parts. High-end brake Swing Gate consists of: chassis, brake motion, control system, infrared sensor, control devices and other parts (high-end brake Swing Door Gate is that it can stop rapidly and efficiently, there is no shaking, no mechanical stuck structure, and the swing arm automatically opens after power failure. It fully complies with fire security requirements).

[szrssecurity]

Swing Barrier Turnstile is normally called a slap door in the rail transit market. Its barrier body (gate pendulum) remains in the type of a plane with a specific area, perpendicular to the ground, and swings through rotation Implement blocking and release. The products of the blocking body are typically stainless-steel, organic glass, and tempered glass. Some likewise utilize metal plates covered with special versatile products (to reduce the damage caused by hitting pedestrians). Bridge Smart Swing Gate The more popular name has actually been inherited from the original bridge-shaped structure. It includes a main chassis and two movable swing bars. The swing bars can swing 180 ° or 90 ° to attain the function of discouraging or launching. Column Swing Gate The look of the main devices is in the type of a column, which can perform the same functions as the bridge type Swing Barrier Turnstile. It is defined by lower expense and less area. RS Security Co., Ltd Main Products: barrier, flap turnstile, complete height gate, swing gate, hydraulic bollard, road blocker, access control, face recognition, barrier gate and so on. Application of Swing Door Turnstile It is primarily utilized for passage entryway and exit management. Normally, only individuals are enabled to travel through, or people dragging baggage, and handicapped individuals. Considering that Swing Turnstile can accomplish broader channel qualities than wing gates. The majority of Swing Gate passages can be combined with pedestrians, bicycles, mopeds, handicapped cars and other non-motorized vehicles. part Swing Barrier Gate structural structure: Swing Door Turnstile includes chassis, motion, swing arm, control system, infrared sensing unit, It includes control devices and other parts. High-end brake Swing Gate consists of: chassis, brake motion, control system, infrared sensor, control equipment and other parts (high-end brake Swing Door Turnstile is that it can stop quickly and efficiently, there is no shaking, no mechanical stuck structure, and the swing arm automatically opens after power failure. It fully abides by fire protection requirements).

[tripodturnstile]

RS Security Co., Ltd is a modern enterprise with smart gate devices and top quality services as its core. The business's primary business is: building website access control, face recognition Turnstile, Complete height turnstile, acrylic swing turnstile, movable gates, tripod turnstile, basketball court paid turnstile, parking area barrier gate, totally automated hydraulic bollard, etc, with car park management Depending on the research and development, production, sales and service of devices, pedestrian gate management equipment, intelligent door openers and other products, we supply clients with comprehensive management services. For many years, the business has specialized in gain access to tripod turnstile gate, swing barrier door, city flap turnstiles gate, speedlane gates, gates, barrier-free systems, complete height turnstile doors, access control, and parking lot systems, and has actually slowly enhanced the items of magnetic cards, IC/ID cards, barcodes, and infrared series products. Integrated application, through constant battle and efforts, it has now developed into the most powerful supplier of intelligent channel gate products in the market.

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

System Error

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, superiors being a pain in the ass

TW: panic attacks

Word Count: ~6.6k

Summary: A system error can change everything.

Masterlist

⸻

The paddock was winding down after a long, grueling race weekend. Mechanics were packing up, engineers hunched over tablets double-checking logs. You and Max had grabbed a quick lunch together — tucked into the corner of the hospitality suite, quiet and lowkey. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Just two exhausted people needing food and a moment of normalcy.

But that didn’t stop the whispers. The glances. The knowing smirks from a few teammates as you walked back into the garage together.

You tried to ignore it.

Back at your workstation, you focused in on the post-race diagnostics. Max had pushed the car hard today — telemetry showed it in the stress reports. You tapped through the data quickly, then made a tiny adjustment in the feedback delay loop on the throttle mapping software. The change was minimal, a smoothing patch that would make the car respond cleaner under fatigue next time.

Except… the system hiccupped when it compiled.

A 0.4-second glitch.

You barely saw it flash.

Then Max rolled out in the car again for a systems test lap, his visor down, the RB cranked up for one last high-speed run.

And you held your breath.

He came back into the garage ten minutes later, a scowl already on his face.

“Something’s wrong with the throttle mapping,” he muttered, tugging his gloves off. “Turn 6, the input lagged. Could’ve thrown the rear if I hadn’t caught it.”

You felt a cold sweat bloom on your back.

Before you could even speak, your superior stormed toward you — red-faced, report printouts flapping in his hand.

“Y/N,” he growled. “This was your code?”

You opened your mouth. “I— Yes, I patched the response curve, but I double-checked—”

“Double-checked?” he sneered, voice rising so everyone could hear. “Is that what you call this? A delay that could’ve sent our driver into the barrier?”

The whole garage fell silent. People turned. Mechanics slowed their movements.

Max glanced between you both, jaw tense but silent.

You took a shaky breath. “It was less than half a second—”

“In racing,” the superior barked, stepping closer, “half a second can mean death. Do you understand that?”

Your hands trembled.

He didn’t stop. “No wonder the car’s lagging. You’ve been too busy having lunch dates with our lead driver to do your damn job.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened. People were staring. Whispers were picking up again — faster now.

You tried to respond, but it was like your voice got caught in your throat.

“Pack up your station,” he said coldly. “We’ll talk to HR in the morning. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re done.”

The world stopped spinning.

You felt like the air was being sucked out of the garage.

Max turned then, eyebrows furrowing. “What did you just say?”

But you weren’t listening anymore. Your vision was tunneling. Everything was loud— the voices, the clanging metal, the roaring blood in your ears.

You’re done.

You backed away from the workstation, heart pounding, lungs unable to catch up.

You made it out behind the garage, behind the rows of equipment crates, and dropped down to the ground. Your knees hit pavement hard, but you didn’t feel it. Your chest heaved as you tried to pull air in, but it wasn’t working.

Your mind was spiraling:

I almost got him hurt.

I messed up.

They’re right. I’m a distraction.

They’re going to fire me.

Your hands shook violently, fingers digging into your arms as you curled forward, heart slamming inside your ribs.

Then—

“Y/N!”

Max.

You heard him before you saw him — voice sharp, close, panicked.

He dropped beside you. “Hey—hey. Look at me. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t speak.

“Shit,” he whispered, brushing your hair back from your face. “You’re having a panic attack.”

He moved fast — sitting behind you, pulling you gently between his knees, arms wrapping around you from behind as you fought for breath.

“Just breathe with me,” he murmured into your ear. “In. Out. That’s it. You’re okay.”

His hands held your trembling ones, guiding your breath until the storm inside your chest began to slow.

It took minutes. Long, unbearable ones. But eventually, your pulse stopped hammering so hard, and you could breathe again without gasping.

“I didn’t mean to mess up,” you croaked, voice raw. “I was careful, Max, I swear—”

“I know,” he said instantly. “I saw the data. That patch didn’t put me in danger. It was a soft glitch, nothing more.”

“But he said—”

“He was wrong.”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy. “He’s going to fire me.”

Max’s eyes darkened. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

And then he stood. You reached for him instinctively, but he squeezed your hand.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Then he turned on his heel and marched back into the garage.

This time, the garage didn’t just go silent — it held its breath.

“Oi!” Max shouted, zeroing in on your superior, his voice sharp and furious. “You said she put my life in danger. That’s a bold claim. So tell me — did you actually check the patch before you threatened her job?”

The superior blinked, caught off guard. “I—It’s a breach in safety protocol—”

“No,” Max growled. “It was a 0.4-second telemetry feedback loop skip. A glitch that you would’ve seen if you weren’t too busy playing detective about my fucking lunch schedule.”

“Verstappen, this isn’t your place—”

“It is when you humiliate someone in front of the whole team and make it about some rumor instead of the facts.”

Dead silence.

Max stepped closer, voice deadly calm now. “You don’t get to threaten her because you’re uncomfortable with her doing her job and being respected by the drivers. That patch? Didn’t put me in danger. But you just made this garage a hell of a lot more dangerous by making her the scapegoat.”

Then, a pause. A chilling one.

“I’ll be speaking to Christian about this.”

The superior paled.

Max turned and walked back out of the garage without another word.

When he found you again, he crouched beside you and offered his hand.

You took it, still shaky.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said gently, helping you to your feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner.”

You nodded, eyes stinging. “Thank you.”

“You’re not getting fired. Not today. Not ever — not on my fucking watch.”

And this time, you didn’t care who saw when he pulled you into his arms.

⸻

The sun had dipped behind the paddock skyline, casting long shadows across the now-quiet lot. Most of the team had cleared out. The garage was locked up. The whispers were probably still alive somewhere, still circling like buzzards — but for now, the world felt still.

Max’s motorhome was dimly lit when he opened the door and motioned you inside. He hadn’t let go of your hand since you stepped out of the car. It was warm, quiet. The kind of quiet that settles after a storm but still hums with what was left unsaid.

You dropped your bag by the door and sank onto the sofa, your body too heavy. Your limbs ached from the adrenaline crash, and your chest still felt bruised from the panic earlier.

Max sat beside you, leaning forward, forearms on his knees. He glanced at you, then away, then back again.

“You haven’t said much,” he murmured. “Still stuck in your head?”

You nodded slowly. “It just keeps replaying.”

Max shifted closer, one arm resting along the back of the sofa behind you. “What part?”

“The moment he said I was done,” you said quietly. “Like I was disposable. Like one mistake made everything I’ve ever done worthless.”

He looked over sharply, his voice low but firm. “It wasn’t a mistake worth punishment. I’ve had bigger scares from software updates. What you did was smart. Efficient. Just unlucky timing.”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. Not to him. Not to the people watching. They already think I’m here because of you.”

That one came out bitter.

Max was silent for a long beat.

Then, “Are you?”

You turned your head, startled.

“I mean,” he said, trying to smile but failing, “you’ve got a ridiculous resume. You worked your ass off to get here. But I just… want to make sure that if people keep talking, you know it’s not true. You’re not here because of me.”

“I know that,” you whispered. “But sometimes it feels like no one else does.”

Max’s expression softened.

“Today proved that no one’s immune,” you continued, voice cracking. “It doesn’t matter how many hours I log or how many times I’m the last one out of the garage. One lunch with you and suddenly I’m reckless. Distracted. A liability.”

Max moved then. Not fast — gently. He shifted so he was facing you fully, his legs crossed in front of him, one of your hands caught lightly between his.

“You’re not a liability,” he said, each word sharp and certain. “You’re the reason I trust that car when I go flat-out into turn one. You’re the voice in the back of my head telling me I’ve got a machine under me I can count on. That doesn’t go away because you ate a sandwich with me.”

A soft, broken laugh escaped you.

He squeezed your hand.

“I lost it in the garage,” he admitted. “When I saw what he did to you. When I saw you leave like that. I thought—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching. “I thought I’d pushed you into something you didn’t want. I thought maybe I ruined something for you.”

You looked at him — really looked at him — and saw it. The regret. The protectiveness. The bare honesty in his expression.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said gently. “You saved me.”

His breath caught, just slightly.

Silence stretched between you — but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with something else. Something slow and warm and terrifying in a way that wasn’t panic. This was different.

Your voice barely rose above a whisper. “I didn’t even realize how scared I was until I couldn’t breathe.”

Max nodded. “You don’t have to explain. I’ve been there.”

“Yeah?”

He looked down at your joined hands. “After Monaco, 2018. Lost control, smashed into the wall. Everyone called me reckless. Stupid. Said I’d peaked already. I had this moment in the hotel bathroom that night where I couldn’t even look at myself. Couldn’t breathe. Thought I’d never shake it off.”

You reached out slowly, your fingers brushing his knuckles.

“And yet here you are,” you said.

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. Here I am. With you.”

Your cheeks flushed. That warm feeling rushed higher in your chest.

“I don’t know what this is,” you whispered. “But I know I’d fight to keep it. Whatever we’re building. Even if the whole damn team thinks I’m only here because of it.”

Max leaned in slowly, his forehead touching yours.

“They can think what they want,” he murmured. “I’ll fight with you.”

You closed your eyes.

For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again.

⸻

The room stayed quiet, just the sound of the AC humming faintly and the low creak of the couch when you shifted slightly. Your forehead was still resting against Max’s, and you didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

“You’re exhausted,” he said softly, his voice more warmth than sound. “I can see it in your eyes.”

You gave him a tired smile. “That obvious, huh?”

Max pulled back just enough to look at you, then tilted his head toward the hallway. “You don’t have to drive back tonight. Just stay here. You can take the bed—I’ll crash on the couch.”

You blinked, startled. “Max, I can’t—”

“It’s not a big deal,” he cut in gently. “You need a quiet place. You need rest. And I… I’d rather you not be alone tonight.”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to stay—it was that your pride, your fear, your racing thoughts were still tangled too tightly inside your chest.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered.

“You’re not.”

He said it immediately, like he’d been waiting for that exact moment to shut down the thought. Like he knew it was coming.

“You’re not a burden, Y/N. You’re not a mistake. You’re not some weak link in the chain.”

His voice dipped even lower.

“You’re just human. And you had a hell of a day.”

Your throat tightened again, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was something else. Something gentler.

He stood slowly and offered you his hand again, palm up, open. “Come on. Just get some sleep. I’ll make sure no one bugs you.”

You let him lead you down the narrow hallway, your hand still in his.

His bedroom was simple—clean, quiet, dimly lit. He turned the light on low and grabbed a fresh shirt from his drawer, tossing it onto the bed for you without looking directly at you when he said, “If you want something comfier.”

You nodded silently, clutching the shirt after he left to give you privacy. You changed quickly, folding your clothes in a neat little pile at the foot of the bed, then sat down gingerly like the mattress might break under the weight of everything you were still carrying.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door.

Max peeked his head in. “You good?”

You nodded, but it was tentative. Your hands were fidgeting in your lap again, like the nerves had crept back in the moment you were alone.

He lingered in the doorway, eyes scanning your face. Then, softly: “Do you want me to stay?”

You blinked. “Here?”

“I meant—just until you fall asleep. I can sit in the chair, or stay on the floor. I won’t crowd you.” He shrugged a little, awkwardly. “Sometimes it helps, not being alone.”

There it was again. That gentleness. That quiet way he offered things without demanding anything in return.

You nodded.

He came in and sat on the edge of the bed, a careful distance away. Not too close, not too far. You laid down slowly, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders, and let yourself settle.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered after a while.

“Of course.”

“Why did you come looking for me after the garage?”

Max looked over at you, his expression unreadable at first. Then he said, very simply, “Because you were the one thing that mattered more than what anyone else was saying.”

You swallowed hard, eyes misting again.

He leaned back against the headboard, one hand resting lightly on the blanket near your side.

“You’re safe now,” he said quietly. “You’re here. With me.”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut.

The last thing you remembered before drifting off was the warmth of his presence beside you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the low, soft murmur of his voice when he whispered, just barely audible:

“You’re not alone.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

⸻

You woke slowly.

The soft warmth of unfamiliar sheets, the faint smell of detergent that wasn’t yours, and quiet—blessed, undisturbed quiet—wrapped around you like a second blanket. For a moment, you forgot. Then it all rushed back.

The panic. The yelling. The threats.

You shifted under the covers, turning your face into the pillow with a small groan. Your body still felt heavy, but your chest didn’t hurt this time. That was new. That was… better.

And then you heard it.

A bang. A curse.

Another bang.

You sat up, confused and a little alarmed, hair tousled, shirt riding up one shoulder.

“Max?”

No answer—just more clattering.

You pulled the door open and padded barefoot down the hallway, the oversized shirt falling past your thighs. The moment you turned the corner into the small kitchenette, you stopped in your tracks.

Max Verstappen, four-time world champion, was standing in front of a stovetop looking like he was actively losing a battle with a frying pan.

His hair was a mess, his tshirt was on backwards, and he was holding a spatula like it had personally insulted him.

You blinked.

“What are you doing?”

He turned sharply, looking sheepish. “Making you breakfast.”

You glanced at the pan. “Is that… supposed to be eggs?”

“It was,” he said defensively, scraping something blackened off the edge. “I think the stove runs hot.”

You gave a soft laugh, the sound cracking the morning tension in your chest like sunlight through blinds.

“Max…”

“I was gonna bring it to you in bed,” he added quickly. “Like a peace offering.”

“For what?”

He looked at you seriously. “For yesterday. For everything.”

You stepped closer. “You don’t need to apologize.”

He looked back down at the eggs—if you could still call them that.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I wanted to do something nice. Just… something normal. For once.”

You leaned against the counter beside him and plucked the spatula from his hand. “Okay. Step aside, champ.”

Max smirked but obeyed, watching you with a hint of wonder in his eyes as you grabbed a clean pan and cracked a few eggs like it was second nature.

“You’ve done this before,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Cooked a non-lethal breakfast? Yeah. Once or twice.”

“Impressive.”

“You should try it sometime.”

He gave you a look. “I did. You laughed at me.”

“That’s because you burned eggs.”

He shook his head, but his smile stayed, soft and easy. The kind of smile that didn’t feel forced. The kind that tugged at your chest.

A few minutes later, the two of you sat on the little bench by the window, plates in your laps, legs nudging together lazily.

For a few peaceful moments, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. Like you weren’t one meeting away from HR and an official review. Like no one was whispering about the engineer and the driver who maybe got too close.

Max broke the silence first, his voice softer now.

“You’re not going to lose your job.”

You looked over, uncertain. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he said. “I made sure of it.”

Your brows furrowed. “What did you do?”

“I spoke to Christian. Sent in my full debrief, made it clear there was no issue with your system, and that you handled it well under pressure.”

You stared at him. “You defended me?”

“Of course I did.”

“But Max, they might think—”

“Let them,” he said firmly. “Let them talk. Let them wonder. I’m not going to let their crap undo everything you’ve worked for.”

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes again—not panic this time, just emotion. The weight of being seen. Believed.

He reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve got your back, Y/N.”

You nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know.”

And you did.

Really, truly did.

⸻

The halls of Red Bull Racing’s HQ felt colder than usual.

You’d walked them a thousand times—joking with the guys from aero, trading coffees with the engine analysts, taking calls while speed-walking between wings—but today, every footstep felt like it echoed too loud. Every stare felt like it lingered too long.

And though Max had tried to reassure you that things were handled… you couldn’t shake the knot in your stomach.

You reached the door marked Human Resources – Internal Operations and hesitated, knuckles hovering.

The memory of yesterday’s shouting still rang in your ears.

“You’re done here!”

“This stunt could’ve gotten him killed!”

“Maybe you’re too busy with Verstappen to do your job anymore!”

You swallowed hard and knocked.

“Come in,” came the clipped voice of Adrian, the HR officer.

You stepped in, back straight. Eyes forward. Trying not to tremble.

Adrian sat across from you with a screen open, data pulled up beside a few printed reports. And just to his right—your superior from the garage. Still smug. Still silent.

“Sit, please,” Adrian said.

You obeyed.

What followed was twenty minutes of cold, clinical questions. “Walk me through the system reset.” “Why did the warning not flag in the telemetry?” “Was Mr. Verstappen present at your workstation?”

You answered every question. Calm. Precise. You’d run the diagnostics again yourself last night before bed, just to be sure.

And still—

“While there’s no clear evidence of deliberate misconduct,” Adrian said, “concerns remain about… judgment. Focus.”

You stiffened. “I’ve never let my personal life interfere with my work.”

“Yet your team lead says this isn’t the first time you’ve been distracted.”

“That’s not true—”

The door opened.

Everyone turned.

Max stepped in.

Not knocking. Not hesitating.

He was in full race gear, holding his helmet under one arm, dark brows drawn low. Like he’d just come from the simulator and heard everything.

“Apologies for interrupting,” he said, voice firm. “But if this conversation is about yesterday’s system flag, I should be here.”

Adrian blinked. “Mr. Verstappen, this is a personnel review—”

“And I’m the personnel they’re saying she put in danger,” Max cut in. “So yeah. I’m staying.”

He crossed the room and stood behind your chair, his presence a wall of quiet support.

You felt your throat tighten.

Max continued, jaw tight. “There was no danger. The system glitched, she flagged it manually, and I was updated over radio before I hit lap two. I never lost control. I never felt unsafe.”

“Regardless, the optics—” your superior began.

“Screw the optics,” Max snapped. “You think she was distracted? That she doesn’t care about this team? About the car I put my life in every time I sit down in it? That’s a pathetic excuse for blaming your own lack of leadership.”

Your superior bristled. “She made a mistake—”

“You made a mistake,” Max cut in, eyes blazing now. “You let whispers get in your head. You threatened one of the best engineers on this team because you were scared of what people might think.”

The room went silent.

Max took a step forward, voice dropping low and tight. “You don’t get to fire her because we had lunch. You don’t get to throw her under the bus because she’s good at her job and people like her. And you definitely don’t get to treat her like she’s some liability when she’s the reason my car crossed the line every weekend without falling apart.”

You sat frozen. Breath stuck in your throat. Emotion burning behind your eyes.

Adrian cleared his throat awkwardly. “I believe we can… pause this discussion for now.”

Your superior stood and stormed out, jaw clenched.

Max didn’t look at him. Not once.

When the door finally clicked shut, you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Adrian gathered his things. “We’ll conclude our review this week. But off the record—” He looked at you, then at Max. “I’d prepare a public narrative. If this becomes media chatter, you’ll want a united front.”

You nodded numbly. “Understood.”

When the door closed again and you were finally alone, the tension broke.

You stood, your knees shaking, and turned to Max.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

He shrugged like it was obvious. “Didn’t trust them to listen to you the way they should.”

“I… you didn’t have to fight for me like that.”

Max stepped closer. “Yes, I did.”

Your lip trembled. “I thought I’d lost everything.”

“You haven’t lost me.”

His words landed between you like a lightning strike.

Your breath caught.

Max’s hand reached for yours—slowly, like he was afraid you’d pull away. But you didn’t. You let him hold it.

You let him ground you.

He squeezed your fingers gently. “You’re safe now.”

And for the first time, you believed it fully.

⸻

You didn’t go back to the garage after the HR meeting.

After Adrian dismissed you, the air around HQ felt too dense, too sharp. You needed time — time to breathe, time to think, time to let the adrenaline drain from your chest without someone else demanding a straight face and steady hands.

So you went home. Showered. Changed into something soft. And waited.

You didn’t even have to text him. Max showed up at your door an hour after sunset, hoodie on, hair damp like he’d just been through a cooldown lap that wouldn’t end.

He didn’t say anything when you let him in. Just gave you a look — quiet, asking — and you nodded.

So he stayed.

Now you sat on the floor of your living room, both of you leaning against the couch like old war buddies after the battle. The lights were dim, casting soft shadows, and there was a mug of tea in each of your hands.

You weren’t even sure who made them.

Max broke the silence first.

“They’re not going to fire you.” His voice was low, certain.

You glanced sideways. “That’s not your job, Max.”

“It is when you’re being punished for being close to me.”

You looked down at your mug, thumb tracing the rim. “I’m not being punished for being close to you. I’m being punished for letting people see it.”

He didn’t respond to that. Just breathed out slowly, leaning his head back against the couch.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy — it was something else. Something more raw. Fragile.

“I hated seeing you like that,” Max said after a long moment. “Sitting in that office. Taking all of it. Like it wasn’t breaking you.”

You blinked. “It was breaking me.”

“I know.” His jaw flexed. “I wanted to tear the whole building apart.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “You kind of did.”

He gave a quiet huff — almost a laugh. Then:

“I didn’t plan any of this, you know.”

You tilted your head. “Plan what?”

“You.” His voice dropped. “Me, feeling like this. Like if I don’t see you after a race, something’s missing. Like if someone tries to take you away from this team, they’re taking my team away too.”

Your breath hitched.

He turned to look at you fully now, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I’ve spent my whole life needing to win,” he said. “But lately, that doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Not if you’re not there.”

You blinked back something sharp behind your lashes. “Max—”

“I know it’s complicated. I know it’s not fair, what they’re doing. What they’re saying.”

“They think we’re a distraction.”

“They’re wrong.” He leaned in a little closer, like he needed you to believe it. “You make me better. Sharper. Calmer. You ground me when I lose control. That’s not a weakness. That’s the only reason I haven’t lost my mind this season.”

You felt tears sting again — but this time, they didn’t come from fear. They came from relief.

Real. Tangible. Crashing relief.

You reached out and placed your hand on his chest, right over where his heart was hammering.

His eyes dropped to your hand. Then back to your face.

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “If this goes public… if they twist it… I could lose everything I’ve worked for.”

He nodded. “Then we take it slow. We stay quiet. We figure it out on our terms.”

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his hoodie. “But you want it?”

His answer was immediate.

“I want you.”

And when he leaned in — slower than ever before, eyes watching yours like he was asking permission — you didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

You just met him there.

The kiss was soft. Barely-there. A breath.

But it changed everything.

When you pulled back, your forehead pressed against his, he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You whispered back, “I’ve got you too.”

⸻

It started with a ping.

You were in the garage early the next morning — headset on, checking tire temp data on the tablet before the briefing — when your phone buzzed.

One new message.

From a number you didn’t know.

“Didn’t take you for the type to climb the ladder like that.”

Attached: a photo. Grainy. Distant. But clear enough.

You froze.

It was you and Max. From last night. Sitting on your living room floor, mugs in hand, your head resting against his shoulder. A quiet, private moment through a window that had been half-covered by the curtain.

No kiss. No scandalous pose. Just… intimacy.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because it was real.

The second ping came thirty seconds later.

Then a third.

And by the time you opened Instagram, it was everywhere.

“Red Bull Engineer and Verstappen? Fans think something’s brewing behind the scenes.”

“Late-night rendezvous: insider sources say she’s been seen leaving his hotel multiple times this month.”

“Favoritism or just fast love? Max Verstappen’s inner circle raises eyebrows.”

You gripped the tablet tighter, knuckles white.

The whispers started almost instantly.

Two mechanics near the back of the garage leaned into each other, glancing your way.

Someone from comms darted past, phone to their ear, muttering fast and low: “Yes, we’ve seen it. Yes, we’re drafting a response—”

Your team lead approached but didn’t say anything. Just gave you a look. Cold. Cautious.

Like he was waiting to see if you’d melt down or explode.

Your headset crackled. Max’s voice came through. “Y/N, you seeing this?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He tried again, quieter this time. “They’re handling it. My PR is locking it down.”

You stepped away from the pit wall, out of range of the others.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whispered into the mic.

“I know.”

“They weren’t supposed to see us. Not like that.”

“I know.”

There was a long pause. Then Max said, softly, “Come upstairs.”

You looked up at the second-floor glass overlooking the garage. He was already there, behind the tinted window. Waiting.

You climbed the steps two at a time.

When you reached the top, the door opened before you even knocked. Max pulled you in and shut it behind you like he was locking out the whole world.

You turned to him, eyes already burning.

“I can’t—Max, I can’t do this if it’s going to cost me everything.”

“It won’t.”

“It already is. You saw their faces. They’re all thinking I slept my way into strategy decisions. That I compromised data to keep you safe—”

“You didn’t.”

“They don’t care.” Your voice cracked. “They just want a headline. A villain. A scapegoat.”

Max stepped closer. “Then let me be it.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Let them blame me. Let them think I pushed you into it. That I used my status or—whatever. Let them hate me if they need to.”

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at you like it was the easiest answer in the world.

“Because I can take it.”

Then, softer: “And I won’t let them break you.”

You reached for the edge of the table to steady yourself.

He moved slowly, brushing his fingers against your wrist.

“I’ll call a press conference,” he said. “We get ahead of it. We say it’s personal, private, that it doesn’t affect performance, and that if anyone has an issue—they take it up with me.”

You shook your head. “They’ll crucify you.”

Max’s smile was faint. “They already try to. Let me protect you now.”

You stared at him for a long, long moment.

And nodded.

Because maybe it was already too late. Maybe the damage was done.

But if you were going down…

You weren’t going down alone.

⸻

The press room was already full when you slipped into the back.

You stayed close to the wall, cap pulled low, hoodie zipped up over your team polo—trying to disappear. Max’s manager had told you not to come. Said it would only feed the rumors.

But you couldn’t stay away.

Not when Max was about to step in front of every camera with your name on his lips.

The room hummed with tension. Journalists whispered to each other, some already typing furiously. The Red Bull PR lead stood off to the side, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Then the door opened.

And Max walked in.

He wasn’t in race gear this time. Just jeans and a navy team jacket. Clean-cut. Calm. But there was something in the set of his shoulders—tight. Ready.

He sat. Adjusted the mic.

“Let’s begin,” the PR lead said. “We’ll take questions in a moment, but first, Max has a statement.”

Every camera clicked on.

Every eye locked in.

Max didn’t flinch.

“There’s been a lot of noise in the last twenty-four hours,” he began, voice steady. “Photos, speculation, and a lot of assumptions.”

He paused.

“I’m going to make this very simple. Yes—I’m seeing someone. Yes, she works on my team. And no, that doesn’t compromise her work or mine.”

The room exploded. Flashes went off. Hands shot up.

Max held one palm out. “Let me finish.”

You gripped the back wall so hard your fingers hurt.

“She’s one of the best engineers I’ve worked with. She’s brilliant, disciplined, and earned her place here long before I ever asked her to dinner.”

Another pause.

“If anyone wants to suggest her position, or mine, is the result of favoritism—you’re insulting every hour we’ve both put into this sport. I won’t stand for that. Not for her.”

He looked straight at the cameras now. No flinching.

“This is private. It’s not gossip. It’s not strategy. And it’s not going to stop us from doing our jobs.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

The PR lead nodded, signaling the first question. It was a reporter from Motorsport Weekly.

“Max—don’t you think it sets a precedent? Dating within your own engineering division?”

Max didn’t blink. “I think it sets a precedent that we’re human.”

Another question came—something about “transparency,” about “possible bias in trackside decisions.”

Max shut it down in one line.

“If you’re suggesting she’d risk my safety or her own reputation for a relationship, then you’ve clearly never watched her work.”

The questions kept coming.

But Max didn’t falter.

He took the heat. The scrutiny. The storm.

And all you could do was watch, heart in your throat, realizing something that scared you more than any rumor ever could:

He wasn’t just protecting you.

He was choosing you.

Publicly. Unflinchingly.

And somewhere between his first sentence and his final nod to the room, something inside you cracked open.

Because you knew, no matter what came next—

You weren’t in this alone.

⸻

The hallway behind the press room was all stark lighting and hushed footsteps.

You stood tucked against the wall, barely breathing, heart rattling in your ribs as the door finally clicked open.

Max stepped out.

His eyes scanned the corridor once—and landed on you instantly.

He didn’t say a word at first.

Just walked straight to you.

Your breath caught the second he reached you, stopping less than a foot away. Close enough to see the flush still high on his cheeks. Close enough to feel the weight of everything he’d just risked… for you.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Your voice barely worked. “You… really did that.”

“Of course I did.”

“They’re going to talk about it for weeks.”

“I know.”

“They’re going to talk about me.”

Max nodded. “Let them.”

You swallowed, eyes burning. “You didn’t have to say all that. Not for me.”

“I didn’t say it for you,” he said, voice lower now. “I said it because it’s true.”

He reached for your hand again—like he had in that HR office, steady and sure. Like it was second nature now. And maybe it was.

You let him take it.

“You shouldn’t have to hide,” he said. “Not for their comfort.”

Your breath shook. “Neither should you.”

He cracked a smile—tired, soft. “I think I made peace with that the moment I walked in there.”

You both stood in silence for a beat.

Just the two of you, in the echo of everything that had just changed.

And then—finally—you said it.

“I’m scared, Max.”

He didn’t flinch. “So am I.”

You met his eyes. “This… it’s not just a fling.”

“No,” he said, stepping in even closer. “It’s not.”

You looked up at him then—really looked. At the way he watched you like the rest of the world didn’t matter. At the warmth behind his frustration, the steadiness behind all the fire. You’d been trying not to name it. Trying to pretend this was still something you could take off like a uniform after hours.

But it wasn’t.

This thing between you?

It was already stitched into your skin.

You whispered, “I’m in this. I don’t know where it goes, but… I’m in it.”

Max exhaled like he’d been holding that hope hostage in his chest.

“Then I’m in it too,” he said. “All the way.”

He leaned in—slow, careful, just a breath away from kissing you.

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

His forehead pressed to yours instead.

And you stood there, breathing in sync, hands clasped like lifelines, hearts still racing from everything outside that door.

But in here?

It was quiet.

Safe.

Yours.

⸻

By the time you made it back to the hospitality area, the buzz had already spread.

You’d barely stepped past the doorway when someone whistled low behind you.

“Damn, Verstappen,” came Lando’s voice, half impressed, half amused. “Didn’t think you had the balls to say it on mic.”

Max didn’t flinch. “Someone had to.”

Lando’s gaze flicked to you—calculating for a second, then softening. “You alright?”

You nodded, though your voice was caught in your throat. “Getting there.”

He offered a crooked smile. “Well, don’t let the vultures get in your head. Most of them are just mad they didn’t call it first.”

Before you could even respond, Charles appeared with two coffees and a knowing look.

“I thought you might need this,” he said, handing one to Max. Then to you, “And you might want to check your socials. Public opinion is…” He paused. “Very divided.”

You groaned softly. “Great.”

“But mostly in your favor,” Charles added quickly. “Some people are idiots. But the rest? They think you’re brave.”

You didn’t realize how badly you needed to hear that until you did.

Oscar walked past then—tossing you a thumbs up as he did, like this was just another race day problem you’d solved with grace.

It shouldn’t have meant that much.

But it did.

Because the silence you’d expected never came. The cold shoulders, the whispers—they didn’t hit like you feared. Instead, there was something else in the air.

A quiet respect.

A new kind of attention.

One that didn’t just see you as her, the one from Red Bull. But her, the one he looked at like that on camera. The one who held her ground. The one who stayed.

Someone nudged your elbow gently.

You turned to see Lewis, calm and collected as ever.

“If it helps,” he said in low tones, “some of us knew a long time ago.”

You blinked. “Knew what?”

He gave a subtle smile. “That he was serious about you.”

Max was just returning from across the lounge when Lewis added, “He doesn’t risk the car. He only risks what matters more.”

Then he walked away, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You looked at Max.

Max looked at you.

And for the first time all day, you smiled.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Masterlist

[lynxgriffin]

You know, in retrospect, the Cattenheimers possibly being important in the future would line up with how the significance of cat-related stuff has increased dramatically now.

Starting with Chapter 2 and the hiatus after it’s release, the Spamton Sweepstakes Q&A had Spamton bring up the elemental pairing of [Puppet/Cat] among other examples. This can be seen in the hidden elemental property system that is sometimes assigned to attacks and armors - which has been more clearly seen with the Shadow Mantle’s effects against attacks from the Titan and some of Gerson’s. In particular, some attacks from Spamton NEO, Tasque Manager, and Tasques all share the same element ID which most likely is [Puppet/Cat].

Alongside that, there is the enigmatic IMAGE_FRIEND/DEVICE_FRIEND:

It initially appeared in Queen’s Basement with a random chance of appearing where the teacups rise up to take you down to the barrier generator. Obviously, it contains the now recurring motif of pink and yellow, which back then we could only connect to Spamton’s glasses. But then in the second round of Spamton Sweepstakes ARG stuff back in May, “FRIEND” was confirmed to explicitly be a cat from the image files of the rarecats game page. And as you have seen, FRIEND became openly prominent in the game as the face of the Endogeny-shaped Darkner during Ralsei’s Ch 3 explanation about the Dark World, as well as the enemies ERAM summons against us during the Sword Route boss fight.

Interestingly, you can even see FRIEND during the first board of the Sword Route. With a maxed out sword, not only can you reach a hidden path to a room with ERAM in it, but you can also cut down the trees to the left and right of the pyramid to find two caves that each have a half of FRIEND’s face appear after moving long enough. And they appear as a pitch black silhouette in the 3rd Sanctuary room with a Waferguard in it, meaning they’re only visible via the sound waves.

The hidden Mike fight and minigames certainly have a lot of cats, with Battat’s minigames directly taking from rarecats and Pluey being based on the fan theory that FRIEND was Mike, but it’s a bit harder to gauge how important this in particular is.

Moving on from FRIEND, I’ve brought up the pink and white cats in the Sword Route, which brings the topic back to the Cattenheimers. And Chapter 4 has a bunch of really odd details surrounding them.

Their cat flap is noted to have a lock that “requires 3 codes” - the flavor text really does have this color - in a clear parallel to the shelter door, but is treated as a joke as ‘useless information.’ Sans’ teleporting shenanigans make an appearance for the first time with him going between his store and the Cattenheimers’ grill between screens. Not only that, he fixes/upgrades the grill to now be capable of also smelling of dogfood, not just catfood, and cooks his “hot dog/cattail” prank on it. And then there’s Catty being the one who is picked to give the sermon about the prophecy behind Deltarune.

A sermon that explicitly confirms one of the heroes to have horns and is he/him - which fits Ralsei AND probably Asriel given Toriel and Asgore’s dark world/prophecy crowns. A sermon that brings up Catti is currently still into summoning/communing with demons. And a sermon that has Catty keep the church guessing about whether or not she’s secretly “actually a Hero” (the capitalization is part of the quote) or that she’s been keeping a secret from everyone - which I presume is in general.

That’s not even bringing up how the dad calls Catty his “genius daughter” in yellow text, which in the church is otherwise reserved for referring to Alphys, Noelle, or Noelle being locked out. Catty acts like she misunderstood what Kris was talking about and points them to Noelle and indirectly to Alphys, but still.

Heck, during Catty’s sermon, it is the only place you can get the Ancient Sweet, which is a bizarre healing item worthy of its own tangent. Really, the most relevant part here is that if you fulfill the conditions required to get it, Kris’ interaction with Susie changes to her finding an undelivered letter in Asriel’s church clothes from Asriel to Catty about their upcoming junior dance together. The same dance that Catty brings up very fondly in Chapter 1 and calls Asriel a “cutie pie” for, not too dissimilar to how much she imagines the horned hero to be “SO cute” for reasons she says she doesn’t know.

Even the other option, the option to pay attention to service, has Susie provide a similar expansion upon another part of Catty’s sermon. Namely, bringing up how Catti and Kris are rumored to have tried to summon demons back when they were kids, which much more openly brings up that plot point about Kris and Catti’s history.

But yeah, there seems to be something really, really weird going down with cats in Deltarune. And more likely than not, the Cattenheimers or at least the sisters will be important to it.

(Not gonna lie, Sans’ modifications to their grill has me lowkey looking suspiciously at the explicitly cattish FRIEND being paired with an Endogeny-like body. That, and also at how it seems to establish some kind of close connection between Sans and the Cattenheimers in general. I mean, he just upgrades and starts using their grill while the family is away without any apparent permission. I hadn’t even realized that last part with the grill until the moment of writing this. )

I'm just gonna stick all of these asks together because...MMMFFGH. I feel like my brain is just absolutely overloaded on cats now and I don't quite know what to make of all of it!

I still don't know what to make of FRIEND, ultimately. The mentions of Friend in the Mike Room honestly almost seem to be teasing players about getting too Pepe Silvia-brained about Friend, but at the same time, there's all these weird little connections with ERAM and Spamton and man it's all a lot. Best I can work out is that, whatever Friend is supposed to be, they're adept at jumping between the layers of reality that the game presents (the game-within-games of the dark world, the dark world itself, the light world, the device layer, etc.)

Catti's got connections with Kris in regards to the demon summoning (which I still maintain could be US all along)

Catti has got serious tension with Susie over Noelle, who are supposed to go to the festival tomorrow together. "Raging inferno of jealousy" could apply to Catti as much as it does Asgore.

Catti's also got tension with an older sibling the same way Kris might have mixed feelings about Asriel. Asriel is likely coming home next chapter for the festival.

There's SOME kind of big cat fight we've got coming in the future but I'll be damned if I can figure out how it will happen or ultimately shake out.

The primary conclusion I draw from this: Undertale is the dog universe, and Deltarune is the cat universe. I don't know how on earth to explain what that means, but it's a conclusion I've got nonetheless.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wukong's wings strained as he darted around and between the complex, taking note of entrances, possible exits, and any guards and security systems he could spot. The place was built like a fortress, demons and bandits mixed together in a truly frightening number had it been any normal mortal that scouted the place and there were likely even more traps and tricks within. It had been a long time since ehes truly used his transformations this long and in this manner, usually only slipping in and going straight to his goal or finding a resting spot to spy from rather than actively scout a location out. But he wadnt taking any chances, not with Havoc who he remembered all too well as the dangerous beast he had been before, and especially not with his newest string of hostages! Not with his son and Master on the line.

If he were to look, he could just barely spot his brothers a distance away, taking cover behind a group of boulders as they awaited him to return with his findings and a plan of action. Waiting for him to save the day like he normally did. Unfortunately for them and for himself, he isn't finding any opening that could be used without causing a ruckus. Havoc had learned from his previous encounter with Wukong and the whole place was covered in barriers and traps meant to catch a sneaky demon slipping in under a glamour or disguise, and there were too many of his lackeys to simply sneak past on their own. Wukong did one last circling of the complex, hoping beyond hope that he had been wrong in his assessment, before banking towards where he'd left his brothers with a series of quick flaps.

Only to freeze into a glide when he noticed the shadow against the sun. It was impossible to tell coloration with the glare shadowing it's form, but Wukong would be a fool not to realize that was a large predatory bird diving straight towards him at ridiculous speed. With an alarmed chirp, he began pumping his wings, trying to gain speed to avoid the hawk or eagle that was after him and barely missed being caught in sharp talons. As the bird fell past he managed to get a good enough took to realize it was a falcon of very dark plumage. Where falcons were build for speed and ambush, sparrows were built to darting and weave around, giving Wukong a bit of an advantage as he pumped his wings to get away from the bird, especially since most falcons would not go after prey when their initial ambush failed.

Apparently this bird was different however, the falcon quickly ascending once more and chasing after the smaller bird in a manner far too similar to how Wukong had once been chased by a certain celestial warrior with similar transformative abilities to his own.

'Well, guess this is going to be a chased then' Wukong mused to himself as he began his ducking and weaving, very much wishing they weren't in the open sky as branches and foliage would give him the coverage he'd need to transform into something else and lose the predator behind him. As it stands, with him so close to Havoc's castle and in the open air, it'd be too risky to do so where anyone could see. And the falcon behind him was gaining on him, apparently determined to catch the sparrow it had spotted. '

Wukong is proud to say he had been able to send the falcon on a merry chase that lasted quite a while before he inevitably faltered as his tiny sparry body finally couldn't keep up with his frantic wing flaps and heart and began to slow. He let out a curse as he felt sharp talons snag one of his wings and then close around his body, pinning the appendages to his side. He wiggled about in the other bird's grip as it banked, aiming to fly away with its catch as his tiny beak useless pecked and bit at the bird's legs. With a huff of frustration, Wukong began to gather his power, aiming to transform into something thay could get him out of this, damn the consequences.

'I don't have a choice but to reveal my presence to Havoc!' Wukong's thoughts screamed at him, 'I am not going to be a bird's dinner!'

But before he could release the power that would allow him to transform, the talons around him tightened, oddly gentle for a predatory bird with its next meal, and he felt a foreign and suspiciously familiar magic tightened around his own, cutting him off from transforming. The falcon glared down at him with a single purple eye and Wukong felt all thought and air leave his body. It couldn't be...

In his shock, Wukong could barely comprehend where they were headed until he felt himself be dropped, his transformation breaking as he turned back into his true form. With a gasp, he sat up as he turned to look behind him. Just in time to see the falcon transform itself mid flight and a dark figure land heavily as he leaned over him, a face Wukong had dreamed of but never imagined he'd ever actually see again.

"M-Macaque!"

That feel when your last meeting with your husband/life mate ended in a bitter arguement, and you both stewed in regret and ire for 500 years because you couldn't contact each other in that time. And you mad at them for going on a religious pilgrimage/parole to appease the very same Heavens that prosecuted you, thus keeping you from your family.

Macaque would 100% make Wukong think he about to eat him.

But the shouting and kissing can wait until their son is safe.

I love your writing so much.

[uhhhyaenbyjade]

Thunderwing - Horizon Custom Machine

Machine: Thunderwing

Cauldron: Omicron

Class: Communication

Based on the prehistoric azdarchid pterosaur Hatzegopteryx, the Thunderwing is a massive, but peaceful, Communication Class machine, similar to the Tallneck. Its name comes from the booming flapping of its wings in the air. It covers vast distances via aerial travel, connecting the Tallneck communication system over barriers such as oceans, islands, mountains, and canyons. There are only twenty Thunderwings at one time, making them incredibly rare.

However, they are still seen regularly; despite being able to stay in the air for months at a time without landing, they take regular pit-stops at designated landing sites in their designated “territory” for maintenance by other Zero Dawn Machines. As one would expect, when nearby tribes witnessed such regular landings, Thunderwings quickly became significant to many cultures. In the Great Delta of the Quen, the landing of the local Thunderwing happens in their territory every four months, each day being a recognized holiday in the Quen calendar. In the Tenakth Clan Lands, the Thunderwing is revered as the most legendary of the Wings of the Ten, and the local machine will use the Arena as a landing site once a year.

The Thunderwing is very similar to that of a Tallneck. It has a massive set of muscles to support the immense weight of the head and radar dish, and when landed for maintenance, it will often patrol a small area. Similarly to its Communication Class sister, the Thunderwing cannot be damaged or overridden, but it does provide an ideal resting space for aerial mounts when flying. The main power source of the Thunderwing comes from the solar panel wings, but this is supplemented with emergency supplies of blaze during maintenance. In order to ease the weight of flying, when a Thunderwing encounters a favorable air current, it can use the sparkers on its wings to shock the muscles into stiffness, soaring on the current for miles.

This machine is created by me, and posted on March 15th, 2024! If you wish to use this machine or artwork in a project, please tag and credit me!

[daccesssecuritysystem]

🛡️ Top Flap Barrier Manufacturers & Suppliers in India: Why DAccess Leads the Way in Secure Access Control

🛡️ Top Flap Barrier Manufacturers & Suppliers in India: Why DAccess Leads the Way in Secure Access Control

Modern flap barrier system installed in a commercial building by DAccess Security Systems Pvt. Ltd.

✅ Introduction

As India rapidly moves towards smarter infrastructure, the demand for advanced access control systems like flap barriers has grown across sectors — from corporate offices and gyms to residential complexes and industrial plants. These intelligent gate systems not only enhance security but also ensure efficient and contactless entry for users.

When looking for a reliable solution, finding the right manufacturer and supplier is crucial. In this blog, we’ll explore what makes a flap barrier system truly effective — and why DAccess Security Systems Pvt. Ltd. is becoming one of the leading providers in India.

🚪 What Is a Flap Barrier System?

A flap barrier gate is a motorized entrance control system that regulates pedestrian movement through secure access verification. Commonly seen at metro stations, gyms, IT parks, and residential societies, flap barriers are built to allow authorized users in — and keep unauthorized ones out.

They integrate with:

RFID card readers

Biometric scanners

QR code systems

AI-based face recognition devices

🔍 Key Features of a Quality Flap Barrier

When choosing a flap barrier manufacturer, here’s what to look for:

High-speed processing to prevent queues during peak hours

Anti-tailgating and anti-pinch sensors for safety

Strong materials like SS304 stainless steel for durability

Smooth integration with access control systems and software

Battery backup and fail-safe operation in case of power outages

Aesthetic design to match corporate, fitness, or residential environments

🏆 Why DAccess Security Systems Pvt. Ltd. Stands Out

At DAccess, we don’t just supply access control devices — we engineer customized security solutions that blend technology, design, and functionality. Our flap barrier systems are ideal for high-traffic environments such as:

Commercial towers

Gym and fitness studios

Co-working spaces

Gated communities

Educational institutions

Government and defense premises

What You Get with DAccess:

✅ In-house R&D and manufacturing ✅ Compatibility with face recognition, RFID, QR, biometric ✅ Durable SS304 body with high-end finish ✅ Smart software integration with attendance or visitor management ✅ Pan-India delivery & on-site support ✅ Related solutions: tripod turnstiles, boom barriers, lockers

We’ve successfully delivered projects across Pune, Mumbai, Bangalore, Delhi, Hyderabad, and Ahmedabad — and continue to expand our footprint across India.

Whether you're opening a new gym, upgrading office security, or managing a multi-residential complex — our team at DAccess Security Systems Pvt. Ltd. is here to help you build a smarter, safer entry experience.

📞 Contact us today at +91 9021828128 🌐 Visit: www.daccess.co ✉️ Email: chaitanya@daccess.co

[patheticallyinfatuatedwithu]

— satan's spawn ; chapter nineteen!

yu jimin had everything in the palm of her hands. highest grades in the year, promoted as the captain of the dance team, top of the social hierarchy, and close to having the school's hearrthrob— song kang as her boyfriend. everything was sunshine and rainbows, until song kang's supposed sister, kim y/n turned song y/n— a certified hottie pain in the ass steps into frame, no longer the pathetic, crybaby loser jimin knew her as. and the line between hate and love slowly began to blur.

THE SMELL OF CHLORINE AND VANILLA

there was something freeing about becoming one with the water. despite the long years of performing the sport, y/n couldn't help but relish in the way the water grazes her skin and parts its waves for her. she is its sculptor, molding the aqua into her very own city, a city that only she ruled.

as she glided through the water with such haste, she surfaces and reaches for the timer on the ledge of the swimming pool, fumbling to tap the button.

100m freestyle, 52.73. y/n hums, craning her neck to watch as the ripples she created slowly subside, breathing heavily. her eyes trail around the room in a fast motion, checking the time. 5:43 pm. she contemplates staying for a little while longer, before remembering that she was only supposed to stay until 6.

she reckons she'll get a good night's rest.

y/n has always hated crowds. she hates how everyone's packed together like sardines, barely leaving any room to breathe in. everyone's pushing, and loud, and aggressive, and trying to push to get to the front. she stays outside the perimeter of the huddled up crowd.

y/n muttered strings of curses under her breath, slipping the phone in her pocket as she clutches her duffel bag for dear life. she circles around the crowd, trying to look for an entry into the backstage that the crowd hasn't already blocked. aha!

she slips through the barrier with ease, paying no mind to the group dancing to eminem's the real slim shady on the makeshift dancefloor in the middle of the field.

oh, fuck. kang forgot to mention how crowded the backstage is, too. y/n's eyes flick from person to person, scanning the whole room for her step-brother. a job that shouldn't be hard with her height proves to be difficult, raising her chin as she walks past countless teams, gripping the duffel bag's strap tighter as countless of eyes fell on her.

with her eyes too busy scanning the room and legs that walked on autopilot, she was bound for trouble. and that trouble just happened to be bumping into the last person she needed for it to be. yu jimin.

the shorter girl was dressed in a black, oversized shirt that contained a photo of cat on the front, and light green pants. her hair was tied up into two pigtails, with a headband to top the whole outfit off. jimin looked good, and she knew it. she looks at y/n with wide eyes, and the taller girl is suddenly aware of her outfit.

y/n had sported a black, long sleeve compression shirt paired with a black sweatpants, and she gripped the strap of her bag in a vice grip.

jimin's lips struggled to get a response out of her system, her usual "get out the way, nerd!" response met its demise on her tongue. is this even the same person? that kim y/n? now she gets why people go for the nerds.

her eyes meet y/n's and she only realised then how close their proximity was, when the smell of chlorine and vanilla to mask the smell wafts into her nose. jimin hated the smell of chlorine. one of her exes used to be a swimmer, and she'd remember the pungent smell of pool water when she'd meet up with him. yet she doesn't mind it on the girl in front of her. it rather fits her, she thought.

jimin absentmindedly blinks her eyes when she heared go min-si's voice through the open flaps of the tent, and bumped shoulders with y/n as a hurried last minute bitchy move, strutting down the line of competitors.

y/n breathes out a heavy sigh of relief the moment jimim had gone, shoulders slumping as she massaged her temples, relieved that her highschool bully didn't try to stir a pot of drama. "oh my fucking god."

after a hectic amount of time wasted on looking for kang, y/n found herself outside the perimeter of the crowd once again, eyes mindlessly trained on the men the performed gasolina on stage. she was so out of it that she didn't notice yeonjun approach her, placing a wicked hand on her shoulder, successfully earning a shriek from the girl.

"what the fuck, yeonjun?!"

"i thought you weren't coming?"

y/n grumbles, crossing her arms and trying to even her erratic heartbeat from the jumpscare in deep breaths. "kang needed his jacket and i went to drop it off for him. thought i'd stick around to see what the fuss is all about with this whole dance competition thing."

"and how is it so far?"

"shit. i don't get why people would want to sacrifice air and personal space just to see a bunch of people dancing." y/n deadpans, watching as the crowd cheers and the team on stage finishes.

"you know they can breathe, right?" yeonjun raised an eyebrow in amusement, lips lined into a smirk.

"yeah, yeah. whatever. i bumped into jimin on the way to kang too. i was scared shitless." y/n scrunches her nose, glancing at a cackling yeonjun.

"did you- i bet you shit your pants!" he wheezes, continuously landing smacks on the agitated girl.

"you don't get it! she literally stared at me with those laser fucking eyes! i swear to fuck i thought i was about to combust into a pool of blood beneath her gaze!" y/n replies, tugging at her damp hair that danced with the breeze. "i was eye to eye with a demon, yeonjun! it's a miracle that i'm even able to stand beside you right now."

yeonjun loses his composure, using y/n as a wall and leaning all his weight onto her, making unflattering noises and coming to a halt when kang appears on stage again.

"and now, give it up for aespa!"

yeonjun glances at y/n in silence as a remix of sexyback and are you that somebody? played.

ouhhhh something is brewing...🧙‍♀���

masterlist — prev — next

@ilamara @noone-find-me @newhairnewjeans @hwm1hyun @bambisnc @yoontoonwhs @haechansbbg @rinapomu @lostamoeba @impossiblesharkcashrebel @jisooftme @aeriniee @xen248 @blue4hour @nnewjeansstuff @kyuusberry @masuowo @greenniee @limbforalimb @myjaeyunn @staytiny20 @yerisdumbass @myouiiiiiiii @xszn @r4cjh @i3lia @neviegf @yallatalla @thefckghost (TAGLIST OPEN FOR A SHORT TIME!)

[captain039]

The 2029

Old man Logan x reader

Warnings: AOB dynamics, age gap, angst, swearing, mutants, intimacy, eventual smut, claiming, heats, ruts, needles, drug usage, dystopian world, plus size reader

Mutation: Telekinesis, energy manipulation, telepathy

The wards alarm wakes you. The sound blaring and ear piercing, you hear the loud sound of boots and your door opening.

“Up omega 332” the guard says and you’re forced out your bed. You keep your back to them as they inject your neck making you bite your inner cheek. You feel your powers die with it like they were never there. You force your body to relax so the guard knows it works. He leaves your door closing heavily and the lock clicking. You rub the small spot on your neck where the needle went in.

“All omegas are required to wear outfit 3 for presentation today” the female voice rings out over the PA system and you sigh heading to the small closest. You grab the outfit, a tight white tank top, white underwear, white bra and nothing else. You put it on feeling uncomfortable in it already, it sticks to your skin the material isn’t soft either. You brush your hair and put in a pony tail as instructed before brushing your teeth and taking the enhancers with the breakfast slid through your door flap. You hate how they make you feel, your mind goes hazy everything that makes an omega gets enhanced by ten times, scent, submission, weakness….

You hate it.

When you’re lined up with the other omegas you hate the almost attacking smells from the alphas in the other room. You scrunch up your nose slightly before a small frown is on your face. You take a subtle breath finding one scent sticking out from the others, mutant, older. You shake your head a bit as the doors open your body going rigid. Though there’s a barrier between you and them you don’t feel any less safe. The roaming eyes heavy gazes, heavy scents alphas close to rut.

This world was a fucked up place. Omegas forced into wards made perfect for breeding, taught how to be a proper omega since presentation. Alphas close to rut are brought in if they aren’t mated, made to pick an omega so they don’t cause havoc on the street, as time went on so did alphas feral state, when it seemed to be getting better four years ago turned into something worse, alphas began to kill their mates from brutality, they’d go on a rampage and not stopped unless put down. So the government sought to protect the betas seeing as they take up most the population while the alphas and omegas were forced into a new heavily caged way of life, though alphas still lived there life as normal they were watched heavily, tracked as well.

You keep your head down knowing that you’re most likely not to get chosen. A bonus if you think about it, you’ve always been a bigger woman your whole life no matter what sort of diet and forced exercise they made you do, you stayed the same, you’ve got muscles, your body’s healthy too, you have to be here other wise you get sent to the other facility, the one where the ‘useless’ omegas go.

You catch the mutants scent again but don’t dare look up. All mutants have been marked and taken control of as well with the changes, a mutant alpha on the loose was worse than a human, one caused a whole town to go extinct. So they forced the omega and alpha mutants to get a weekly injection to dull their powers and branded with a small M on the back of the neck.

“Exit” the automated voice calls and you follow the line back to where the rooms are and head to yours. You let out a sigh of relief thankful that’s over ready to claw this damn singlet off.

“Omega 332 you have been chosen” the automated voice makes you freeze, panic running through your whole being.

“If you do not calm down you will be injected with an easer” the voice adds and you take deep breaths calming your heart, you hated those too, an Easer something to make you high and easy. Your door opens and your afraid too look around till you catch the mutants scent. You take a small breath his scent not unpleasant like the others, its laced with Cigars and whiskey, somehow not harsh on your nose. You keep your back turned waiting for the alphas command.

He doesn’t speak though he grunts softly and sits down on the love seat in the corner of your room sighing softly. You’re confused as he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move either, you can see him out the corner of your eye but don’t look without permission.

“How can I serve alpha?” You ask.

“Jesus” he mutters voice deep and rough.

“Sit on the bed” he says, he doesn’t command or use his alpha tone but you listen anyway and sit down.

“Get comfortable” he grumbles and you shuffle so your backs against the wall and you sit comfortably. You see him now fully, he looks old, greyed hair, wrinkles, his eyes are closed and his head is leaned back showing him your throat. It’s strange for an alpha to do that but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s in a suit, no tie, a plain black jacket unbuttoned. He doesn’t speak, he just sits there and you’re highly confused, you can catch the slight smell of rut in his scent but it’s subtle. You’re unsure of what to do, fiddling with your hands silently cursing this shirt. You shuffle a bit trying to itch your back against the wall. The alpha lifts his head with a slightly raised eyebrow. You freeze forcing your eyes down.

“Something wrong with your shirt?” He aske quietly, you struggled with how to answer.

“It’s itchy, the fabric isn’t nice” you answer honestly expecting a backlash.

“Do you have other clothes?” He asks and you nod pointing to the white cupboard. He stands with a small sigh going to the cupboard with a limp. He opens it stares for a moment before pulling out your grey shirt and shorts.

“Here, these ones feel better” he hands them to you and nods before sitting down. You hold the clothes in your hands baffled at the gesture as he sits back down again.

“May I get off the bed to change?” You ask.

“Don’t have to ask” he shrugs.

“You’re the alpha I have to ask” you say.

“Right” he grumbled sighing.

“You can change in the bathroom” he says and you nod heading to the bathroom wondering why he picked you if he didn’t want to see you naked. You change and come back out.

“Is this ok alpha?” You ask.

“Just call me Logan kid” he sighs.

“I’m required to call you alpha” you say feeling more confused by him.

“Right, yes that’s ok you can sit down again” he grumbles out. You sit down again in the same spot happy to be out of those clothes.

That’s how your first meeting went with Logan. He didn’t do anything the whole time during his rut, he sat there took the meals provided, let you do what you wanted, well when he asked you to. He asked you what you liked and then asked you to do that. It was strange to say the least. He had a few showers you heard a few times of him relieving himself in the shower before he came back out and sat back on the chair. He hardly slept max two hours a night or during the day, the older alpha did nothing to like what you’ve been taught and told would happen. When he left you were confused for a while, wondering why the hell he didn’t do anything wondering if he didn’t like you or you weren’t a good omega. You’d asked more than once if he required anything but he got angry with a growl and shut you down so you never asked again. You’d never seen an alpha with so much restraint or maybe he genuinely didn’t have the urges due to his age.

It became a routine he’d come in for his ruts and you catch his scent in the other room your heart picking up before the automated voice said you’d been chosen before the alpha would come in and sit down. You got brave asked simple questions, how was his day, if he worked or not, he’d answer in short simple answers and you got that he wasn’t a talker, so you’d sit in silence, you learnt not to ask to do thing even though it went against every fibre of what was drilled into your head since your presentation. His scent was becoming familiar and you found yourself enjoying it, you found yourself sitting on the chair lying down so your nose was close to where his scent laid, left wondering how he’d act if he’d been younger or let all restraint go, he’d be rough you could tell by his exterior, the gruffness, hardness in his voice, he’s been through a lot you just don’t know what and it always left you wondering and wanting more.

Next part ->

[szrssecurity]

Swing Barrier Gate is generally called a slap door in the rail transit market. Its barrier body (gate pendulum) is in the kind of a plane with a particular area, perpendicular to the ground, and swings through rotation Implement obstructing and release. The products of the blocking body are frequently stainless steel, natural glass, and tempered glass. Some likewise utilize metal plates covered with unique flexible products (to decrease the damage caused by hitting pedestrians). Bridge Smart Swing Door Turnstile The more popular name has actually been acquired from the original bridge-shaped structure. It consists of a primary chassis and two movable swing bars. The swing bars can swing 180 ° or 90 ° to accomplish the purpose of dissuading or releasing. Column Swing Barrier Turnstile The appearance of the main equipment is in the form of a column, which can carry out the exact same functions as the bridge type Swing Door Gate. It is characterized by lower expense and less space. RS Security Co., Ltd Main Products: door, flap gate, complete height gate, swing gate, hydraulic bollard, road blocker, access control, face recognition, barrier gate and so on. Application of Swing Barrier Gate It is mainly utilized for passage entrance and exit management. Typically, only individuals are enabled to travel through, or individuals dragging travel luggage, and handicapped people. Considering that Swing Gate can accomplish wider channel qualities than wing gates. The majority of Swing Door Gate passages can be blended with pedestrians, bicycles, mopeds, handicapped automobiles and other non-motorized vehicles. element Swing Gate structural structure: Swing Gate Turnstile consists of chassis, movement, swing arm, control system, infrared sensing unit, It consists of control devices and other parts. High-end brake Swing Door Turnstile consists of: chassis, brake motion, control system, infrared sensor, control devices and other parts (high-end brake Swing Door Turnstile is that it can stop rapidly and efficiently, there is no shaking, no mechanical stuck structure, and the swing arm immediately opens after power failure. It fully complies with fire defense requirements).