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whumble-beeee · 6 months

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The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life, pt. 1

Masterlist

CW: disabled whumpee, gun mention, restrained to chair, knife

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[Welcome to The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for super-villains and bounty hunters! In this self-help manual written by villains, for villains, we will go over various techniques, tips and tricks, and other useful skills for all different types of villains needed to keep those pesky heroes safely and securely kidnapped, nicely out of the way for your dastardly deeds!

Torture tips, mind games, knot-tying step-by-steps, and more, all the knowledge you will ever need in order to capture and contain a super-powered person is kept right here, in The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping! Time to seize the day, villain! Heretofore, may your endeavors forever be hero-free!]

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Stan screamed himself awake, but he couldn’t hear anything over the deafening flaring in his ears, his heart racing, body burning, every muscle seizing.

He couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t that there was anything strictly in the way of his breathing, it was just as if his lungs had succumbed to death's dark embrace and were about to glide through to heaven’s pearly gates when some malevolent force clawed into them and ripped them asunder, shoved them back into his body, and ordered them to get back to work.

And they were not happy about it.

Neither were his heart, nor his brain, or any normal bodily function for that matter, because for a brief moment, they all seemed utterly appalled and offended that Stan had the audacity to still be alive.

It only took a couple eternal seconds for his bodily functions to fully reaccept their lot in life, but now he was fully aware of every fiber of his being that insisting “wait, aren’t you supposed to be dead?” which made him immediately spiral into a blind panic.

His chest heaved as it tried to force in air, his head buzzed in a horrible all-consuming way, the lights and colors and sounds around him were all way too bright and loud and whooshing around him faster than he could ever process fully. So he just screamed, begging and needing for it to stop, please, please, he couldn’t take this anymore, anything else but this, please.

Slowly, unfathomably slowly, the panic began to ebb away. His surroundings finally started to infiltrate his overloaded consciousness; the gray concrete, the cinderblock walls, a mostly empty room that immediately set him on edge, because he knew exactly what this type of room was for.

He sat in a chair. Or rather, his arms were wrenched behind him and his wrists were secured to the back of the chair with what must have been twine. Then some ropes connected to his wrists crisscrossed around and across his stomach several times over to keep him bound tight. So it was more like he was imprisoned in the chair.

He thrashed out against the rope, only succeeding in momentarily stealing the breath from his lungs again. No give at all. He held in a sob and blinked the tears away, trying to fight off the angrily buzzing head and desperately weak appendages.

Then he saw him.

Another person in the room; a man sitting in his own chair a few feet away, only with the good fortune to not be tied to it. He held his phone limply in his hand and tilted his head at Stan with some mild amusement, as if he had just paused his internet browsing to watch the captive struggle.

There really wasn’t that much special about him, at least considering he was probably a villain; he dressed like a cyber-punk cowboy, with blond hair, a darker complexion, and a couple of scars scattered about the small amount of skin he had exposed, including a pretty nasty burn scar that peaked out from his collar and up over his jawline. He wore a mask to cover the bottom half of his face, and a tool belt with various little pockets and cases, among which was an actual leather holster housing an actual shining metal gun. It was some sort of old-timey-looking revolver, sparsely decorated to match the rest of the man.

Stan stared wide-eyed at him. He wished that he wasn’t a panicking lurching mess in front of the person who must have been his kidnapper. The guy returned his terrified glare with half-lidded eyes and a light-hearted smile.

“Let-let… Let me go-o.” Stan finally sputtered out.

The man raised an amused eyebrow. “What, no hi, hello? Would have thought you to be the polite type…”

A tickle in the back of Stan’s mind told him that he knew that voice from somewhere, but a much more prominent voice in the front of his mind screamed danger danger DANGER!!

“Let me go!” Stan shouted through gritted teeth, straining against the ropes. The man didn’t so much as flinch. “Let me go and we can forget all about this! I’ll let you off with a warning! But you need to let me go, you have no idea who you’re dealing with here!”

The captor rolled his eyes, slid his phone into his pocket, and casually strolled over to Stan, which Stan reciprocated by leaning back into his chair as much as physically possible. He tried not to eye the revolver too noticeably.

“You’ll let me go off with a warning, huh?” The man teased with a soft lilt. “That’s a relief. Y’know I was worried there for a second, since I’m dealing with THE Stan McKellen, right?” He said the name as if Stan were some movie star, instead of some super-powered nobody.

“Age twenty-two, five foot four, brownish-redish hair, green eyes, buncha fuckin’ freckles. Pretty bad limp in your right leg, and you’ve got this cute little magic cane that you use to walk and make your powers just… so much more powerful.”

His eyes practically sparkled as he knelt down in front of Stan. “Telekinesis, or something of that sort. Y'know, I saw you in full action before I nabbed you. Really impressive. The swirly magician cape really adds to the magic of it, I think.”

Stan tried to kick him in his stupid smug face, but the man was sadly just out of kicking range. He smiled a shit-eating grin and stood up to slowly meander around Stan.

“But I wouldn’t know about all that, especially the part about keeping that cane the hell away from you because could lay me on my ass if you had it. Because I don’t know who I’m dealing with, right?”

Stan's face flushed. “You can’t just take–!”

“You’ve also got some pretty shady history, yeah? I mean, did you know you don’t even legally exist? Like, not that you've been declared dead or something, I’ve seen that before, I mean you don't exist at all, in any database. It's like you've been erased. You don't exist. That, of course, got my attention, so I did some digging, loads of recon and llave, you've got some of the most insane powers I’ve ever seen, just throwing shit around and pushing people around like ragdolls. I’ve been in this business for quite some time, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say you’re probably one of the most powerful I’ve seen. It's really a shame that you need that cane to do anything with them, and even more so that your leg doesn’t work right–”

“Okay, OKAY, I get it, you know who I am! Stop talking about the cane, or– give it back, I need it!”

“Preeetty sure I implied you’re not getting that thing back.”

Stan jolted in his restraints, and immediately regretted it when he was sure he felt new bruises forming on his wrists. “I need it! Give it back.”

The man paused behind him. Long enough that Stan almost called out to him to demand what the hell he was doing. Then he sat on top of the back of Stan's chair, forcing Stan to either take his full weight on his upper back or lean forward and strain against the already too-tight rope. Stan quickly chose the latter with a strangled grunt.

“I do what I want, chiquito,” the man said, deceptively calm. Friendly, even. “You'd do best to learn that quickly.”

Stan bucked back against the weight and let out a frustrated groan when the whole man on top of him didn't budge. The ropes dug painfully into his stomach.

“Get. Off of me.” He seethed.

“What's the magic word?”

“Fuck you.”

His captor leaned back onto him a little bit more, and the rough tendrils of the twine bit into his wrists like sandpaper. His shoulders tugged back, stuck behind the chair and protesting the weight folding him forward by tugging him rebelliously back, caging in his ribcage, forcing the air out of his lungs. He let out a pained wheeze before he could stop himself.

“Still not quite right.”

Stan squirmed in his seat, trying to shove up and get the captor off of his back, but it was proving increasingly hard to try and shove such a big guy off with only the use of one knee to push back, his protesting noodle arms, and the increasing desperation banging against his skull.

“Okay, okay, fine!” he squeaked breathlessly, hoping he sounded like he was just conceding instead of near panicking. “Get off of me, please! Please!”

The man stood back up and Stan slammed back up against the back of his chair, breathing deep and fast, only now feeling the bone-deep soreness and probable ring of bruises around his aching wrists. He couldn’t even feel his hands, the bonds were so tight. How long had he been tied up? How long had he been here?

He felt a hand ruffle his hair. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Stan wanted to scream. “Yes. It was hard.”

The voice snorted. “That's what she said.”

Stan could have sworn he saw red. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath to turn down the boiling rage and rising panic in his stomach. It did absolutely nothing. He pulled on the ropes yet again, more out of desperation than any actual notion that he might be able to tug loose, and another jolt of pain branched up along his forearms.

Tears threatened his eyes again. He was at the complete mercy of a man who made ‘that’s what she said’ jokes.

He did his best to shove down the emotions and tried to focus on the positives. This guy obviously didn’t care about experimenting on him or trying to steal his powers, or torturing him until he was just a husk of himself, or trying to mold him into a living weapon who just lived to do as he was told without question or hesitation. Hopefully…

There was also still that nagging feeling that Stan knew this guy from somewhere, a small piece of vital information buried deep in his brain screaming to get out, shoved down under years of trauma and intentional burying of memories until it couldn’t find its way to the front of Stan’s mind if it had a map, a compass, and the sun to guide its way.

He clenched his fists. Why was his brain being so stupid?! He was smarter than this!

“Who are you…” Stan grunted under his breath, not even fully meaning for it to be verbal, but the pent-up emotion was starting to bubble over.

“Hm?”

“Who!” He shouted, surprising both himself and his captor. “Who are you?! Why are you doing this, why am I here, how am I here, why did you kidnap me?”

The man narrowed his eyes at Stan, and his heart may as well have stopped. He cringed in anticipation of some sort of punishment for yelling. He knew the man’s type. Power-hungry. Easily pissed off. Eager to make someone suffer, especially when they’re given a reason to, which Stan just did. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

Instead of doing any of that, the kidnapper just picked up his chair and slid it closer so the two of them could talk face-to-face.

“Alright, you're right, I should probably explain,” he started with a sigh. Despite the sudden bewildering tone shift, Stan couldn't help but tentatively lean into the promise of answers. He hadn't expected any sort of positive response from his outburst.

“Can’t tell you much, but I’ll give you a few free questions, yeah?" The man started. "The deal is, I’m basically gonna be your babysitter. I'm really just supposed to keep you here for the time being.”

“You're... my–… my babysitter?” Stan sputtered.

“Basically.”

Stan waited for an elaboration, but the man seemed perfectly content with his answer. But he did say Stan could ask questions, right?

“Okay, so you’re…” he started tentatively. This was a delicate game. “You’re holding me for someone else? Or you’re gonna let me go in a little while?”

“Can’t say.”

Stan scrunched his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“You’ll learn soon enough.”

Ominous.

He sighed, searching his brain for a different line of questioning.

“Then why are you holding me here?” he ventured.

“Can’t say.”

Stan groaned. Was this how it was gonna be? “Why not? Are you like a villain or something? Got some big plans to use me to destroy the world or some crap?”

“If you wanna describe me as a villain, sure. I’m just a mercenary. A bounty hunter, if you like.”

Okay, that felt like important information, but all it did was make Stan want to kick himself for not realizing sooner. Obviously the guy was a mercenary, just look at him. He felt some puzzle pieces click together within his brain. Mercenaries do other people’s dirty work.

“What’re you gonna do to me here?”

“Depends entirely on you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Can’t say.”

He must be messing with him on purpose, this was egregious.

“Who are you working for?”

“Can’t say.”

Stan was getting tired of this. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“Won’t.”

“Why are you even letting me ask you questions if you’re not gonna answer them?”

He shrugged. “It’s a helpful pacifier.”

“Come again?”

He shrugged again.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Stan conceded. “Can you at least tell me who you are? I don’t even know your name.” and I feel like I’ve seen you before.

The man chuckled. “Bud, I think you can use your smart-brain to know what I’m going to say at this point.”

Stan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Won’t say?”

“What can I say? If you knew my name I’d have to kill you,” he said in an almost sing-songy voice.

Stan nearly laughed at the cliché before he realized there was probably some truth behind the joke. It turned into a more strangled cough.

“...uh. What do I call you then?”

“Usually I’ll say ‘DB’ if the target isn’t creative enough to come up with some derogatory nickname on their own.”

“I’m not calling you Deeby, that’s stupid.”

“It’s even stupider when you know what it’s based on.”

“What’s it based on?”

“Can’t say.”

“This is bullshit.”

The man snorted and shot up from his chair fast enough for it to skitter backward. Stan recoiled into himself at the sudden flurry of movement and sound.

“Wonderful, I hope you found your little impromptu interrogation session enlightening.” the mercenary smiled. “Now back to business.”

He fiddled around in one of his belt pockets, then tsked when he apparently couldn’t find what he was looking for and switched to another pocket instead. Stan felt a horrible churning feeling start to stir in his gut. He didn’t like how the man had just suddenly sprung to life, how giddy he seemed to be for whatever he was searching for.

His heart sunk into his shoes when he finally saw what the mercenary held up for him to see. “So, runt,” he drawled, fiddling with an egregiously large pocket knife and locking it open with a deafening click. The blade glistened in the clinical lighting. “How do you feel about knives?”

#whump #hero whump #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #defiant whumpee #kidnapping whump #whump story #heroes and villains #(un)official guide #been waiting so long to finally upload this #very excited for it hehehehe #hope everyone enjoys #also pacing issues? what pacing issues? never heard of 'em

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youreternallover · 2 months

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Rainy Days

The first meeting between Mochizuki Asuka and Amamiya Ren. Mochizuki Asuka is my original character made for the Persona 5 Royal game. This is an Oc x Canon story.

This is my first time writing after a good few months due to writers block, and so it may be OOC and not made with top notch quality. But I enjoyed writing it, and that’s all that really matters to me.

𓂃 。◦ ✿ ◦ 。𓂃

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

The drips of rain falling to the sidewalk was all that was heard aside from the cars on the busy street. It created a soothing sound. It wasn’t meant to rain today, and yet it did, you can never trust the weather reporters to give accurate reports.

A soft sigh left her lips as she walked towards the railway station from the school to go home, listening to the sound of the rain hitting her umbrella. Asuka Mochizuki was glad she always carried one around, due to situations like these. Though, she pondered, would her brother be okay? He probably didn't bring an umbrella, and he had to stay longer at the school today.

She shook her head, there was no point in worrying about her brother, he always managed to find a way to come home unscathed.

It was a peaceful walk so far, nothing out of the ordinary. Though, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar face. Unkempt wavy black hair, pretty dark-grey eyes and black glasses. That was the new student, Ren Amamiya.

Asuka stopped walking for a moment, tilting her head as she saw him. Shielded from the rain by a canopy of a store, multiple people standing under it. Right, it wasn't meant to rain today. People didn't bring umbrellas with them.

She thought back to school, how on the first day everyone already avoided him because of people finding out he was on probation, deemed a danger and trouble due to it by everyone.

A soft sigh left her lips, she felt bad for him. Right on his first day he had already been treated poorly by everyone with a few exceptions. Asuka knew what it was like to be an outcast, she was one in her old school.

After a bit of wondering, Asuka decided she’d try to get to know him. You can’t judge a book by its cover, or perhaps judge a person by rumours.

With slight hesitance and mentally building up confidence, she approached him with a small wave to try and get his attention. Perhaps he also used the railway station? Then she could walk him there with her umbrella, at least he wouldn't be soaked or have to wait till the rain mellows out.

Dark-grey eyes turned their attention to her, hesitation was building up. What if he thinks it’s weird that she’s approaching him out of school? ‘No, Asuka’ She thought to herself, she already was approaching him and so there was no way she’d back out now. That would be even weirder.

The sound of rain against the umbrella was soothing her nerves. Upon being at a reasonable distance, Asuka finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry to bother, but you’re the new student at our school, right? My name is Mochizuki Asuka, I believe I’ve seen you around the school a few times.” The brunette said with a smile resting on her lips.

*The raven-haired high schooler pushed up his glasses which were threatening to fall from gazing down at his bag beforehand. With a small head tilt and a nod, he returned a small smile.

“My name is Amamiya Ren.” He spoke, nodding at the question to confirm it. As he was about to speak again, a meow rumbled from his bag and a fluffy cats head poked itself out.

Both their gazes shifted down to his bag, a black cat with some white around its mouth and big blue eyes. ‘Meow’ The cat mewled in a curious manner. What an adorable little kitty.

A soft smile tugged at Asuka’s lips as she looked at the cat before gazing back at him, a curious expression written all over her face. “You have a cat? It’s adorable.”

“You could say that.” Was what he said in response to the question, looking at the cat that was being spoken about. The cat.. seemed to be upset over being called a cat, but had enjoyed the attention the stranger was giving him.

Not quite understanding what he meant by that, she just shrugged it off and asked a different question upon spotting the yellow collar on the cat. “Hm.. Well whats their name?”

“..Mona, me and my friends named him Mona.” He hesitated with the answer, as if having to remind himself what his own cat is called, or perhaps what name to call him in that moment.

“Mona, huh?…” Asuka trailed off before nodding with a content smile, “I like that name, it seems fitting.” Her gaze wandered back to the busy roads and rain tapping on her umbrella.

Unbeknownst to them, they started walking in the rain while keeping small casual talk, her umbrella keeping them sheltered from the rainfall. They discussed things such as their classes, their view on the school and so on, with Asuka occasionally asking questions about the cat in his bag. They even shared some laughs along the way, this has gone better than she had expected.

Within a span of thirty minutes they had reached their destination. “Oh- we’re here.” Asuka spoke, albeit a bit bittersweet as she had been enjoying their time together.

“I guess this is where our paths end, I’ll see you in school?” Asuka asked with a soft smile to mask her disappointment, closing her umbrella while gazing at him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around. I appreciate you letting me share your umbrella.” He said with a push to his glasses and a smile on his lips, giving a wave with his free hand that wasn’t holding the bag securely.

And with that, Asuka left. A content expression on her face and a soft glint in her eyes. She left with the knowledge she made a new potential friend, without the help of her brother.

#🌓 eclipse’s writing #persona 5 royal #original character #ren amamiya #p5r #writing #oneshot #asuka mochizuki #for fun #idk what else to tag #idk what to tag this as #practicing #i was so nervous to post this omg #hope everyone enjoys

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thatoneandlonelyemo2005 · 12 days

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So a lot of the time in modern au-which is now called Still Smiling- Bumlets has to leave to go to gymnastic competitions and most are during the school day so Flipper isn't allowed to see them, but I wrote about it a little and thought I share

will say me and @chaosfairy18 have named the boys so to putting that information here-

Bumlets is Dominic

Swifty is Vincent

Skittery is Michael

Flipper is Philip

Tumbler is Benny

Flipper was on the front porch steps with Bailey. They both had been sitting here all day waiting for Bumlets to get home from a competition. Flipper wanted to go but it was during a school day and Bumlets didn’t allow him to skip. So here he was, petting Bailey and using him as a pillow to wait for Bumlets.

When a car rolled up the driveway Flipper jumped off Bailey and watched as Bumlets came out of the door.

“Dominic!” He yelled as he ran to him.

“Philip!” Bumlets smiled.

Flipper had run up to him and Bumlets caught him to only spin him around. Bailey then came over and barked at him. Bumlets chuckled and went to pet Bailey as Flipper hugged him.

“Where's Skits and Swifts?” Bumlets asked since none of them ran out to greet him.

Flipper looked at the house, “Oh, Swifty went to the store with Tumbler and Skittery was up stairs on your bed, or at least that's what Swifty said.”

“I see, well then wanna help me carry my bags in?” Bumlets ruffled his hair.

“What do you mean bags? You only took one Bum.” Flipper playfully glared.

Bumlets rolled his eyes playfully and went to his car to get his bag. Flipper stood and waited for him by the other side of the car. “Did you do your school work Flip?”

Flipper shrugged as they began to walk to the door, “I did, just not my math. Everyone was too busy to help.”

Bumlets sighed, “It seems like you were too busy waiting for me.” He paused and turned back around, “But I’ll help you, just do all your work next time okay.”

Flipper hung his head and felt Bailey's head go under his hand, “I’m sorry. I know I should have-”

“Hey, Philip, I’m not mad, okay. You just need to get your school work done.” Bumlets dropped his bag in front of the door and kneeled down to Flipper's height.

Flipper sniffled, “I just miss you.”

Bumlets hummed and then wrapped his arms around him for a hug, “I know, I miss you too.” He stayed quiet for a moment to hug him, “It's okay, I’m not mad.”

Flipper nodded and wiped at his eyes. Bumlets dried them as well and kissed his cheek. “Alright how about you go get your homework and I’ll go see Skittery because I know he’ll get mad if I don't.”

Flipper's mouth turned into a smile again. “Good because he's been in a mood since you left.”

Bumlets shook his head, “Well I’m glad you're not the only one who missed me.”

Flipper laughed and then they walked into the house. Bumlets gave another hug to Flipper as he went to the dining room to get his homework out. Bumlets walked up the stairs to his room and couldn’t help but want to hug Skittery.

As he made it to his door he saw it cracked a little. Bumlets pushed it open as quietly as he could and saw Skittery lying there in the middle of the bed sleeping with Skittles on the pillow next to him. Skittery was also in a pair of Bumlets sweat pants and a hoodie of his.

Bumlets chuckled softly as he walked closer to him and Skittles meowed at him. He brought a finger to his lips and shushed the cat. Then he sat on the side of the bed and brought a hand to brush back some of Skitterys hair.

“Michael.” He said softly, “Michael wake up, I’m home.” He said a bit louder this time.

Skittery stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. That only made Bumlets smile again. He then kissed him on the lips and his cheek then his forehead.

Skittery blushed as he felt the soft lips on him. He opened his eyes to see Bumlets smiling softly at him. “Dom?”

“Hi doll.” Bumlets kissed him again, “Did you miss me?”

Skittery reached out for him. “Yeah,” He replied sheepishly

“Well I can certainly tell. Seems you like to wear my clothes.” Bumlets hugged him and felt the other boy nuzzled into him.

“M’sorry, just missed you.” Skittery mumbled.

“I don’t mind.” Bumlets laughed, “Maybe you and Flipper have something in common then.”

Skittery shook his head and broke the hug to look at Bumlets then he kissed him. Bumlets kissed him till they needed air and that only made Skittery chase after him again.

“Hold on doll, I need to help Flipper with homework-”

Skittery whined, “But Dom!”

“Doll be good or you won’t see your surprise later.” Skittery raised his eyebrow. “But you could have stopped moping and helped Flipper with his homework earlier.”

“Bold of you to assume I know how to do anything.” Skittery glared.

“Oh what am I going to do with you doll?” Bumlets kissed his lips again.

“You could ignore Flipper for-”

“Nope!” Bumlets broke the hug, “I made a promise okay. Now either you can stay up here and mope or join us.”

Skittery rolled his eyes and rolled over grumbling about how this isn’t fair. Skittles went to headbutt him and he started to pet her.

“I love you Skits.” Bumlets kissed the side of his cheek and it only made the other boy grumble some more.

Bumlets walked out the door smiling knowing Skittery would be down soon. He just needed to get over himself first.

#that was it :3 #hope everyone enjoys #tried my hardest but i just love them so much ya kow #also Flipper and Bumlets as brothers is going to send me to heaven istg #92sies #1992 newsies #1992sies #newsies 1992 #newsies #skittery newsies #bumlets newsies #swifty newsies #flipper newsies #Still Smiling #bumswiftery newsies #tumbler newsies

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jaeclerc · 11 months

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through the dark ; maxiel ; 2.4k

tw: mentions of eating disorders, unhealthy behaviors, previous abuse, mentions of mental health disorders

max was trembling with the effort it took to not spill his guts out in front of daniel, to admit all the things he’d been hiding from him. he was picking at his food, his stomach turning over and over as he stared at the pasta on his plate, trying to occupy his hands as he cut it smaller and smaller. his mind was racing with a million different thoughts.

he wanted to tell him, to admit that his dad visiting was driving him into a pit, that every time he told daniel he was going to his classes, he was actually just fucking around in the public library, staring at the books he pulled on things like physics and mechanical engineering to try pretend like he was actually attending college and not a high school drop out. he felt like the clock was ticking on his honesty and every day that he lied to daniel about how normal he was, about how absolutely perfect everything was, he was just sealing the death of the best thing he ever had.

“are you not hungry, max?” daniel asked and max just shook his head, slightly pushing his plate away. he rarely actually ate when he was with daniel, but he usually managed to fake it better. this time he could not.

“you okay?” daniel looked concerned and it made max’s stomach turn even more. he felt like the guilt was seeping out of every pore on his body. he just nodded, a tight smile on his lips.

“just worried, you know? about my dad. he’s very critical of me.” daniel tilted his head just slightly and gave max a look that made him feel too seen to be comfortable. daniel always made him feel too seen to be comfortable, the only person who max let slip behind his perfectly constructed facade.

“but you’re doing well!” max just ducked his head, the rope around his neck tightening with every word and he just wishes he was never there in the first place. he wishes he never met daniel because then he would not feel this guilty, this exhausted in the need to please someone so much because he yearned for them so badly.

“max.” daniel sighed. “i know.” his tone of voice was too casual for what he was saying to him, like it was nothing. like he didn’t just say the one thing that made max fall into a deeper spiral as his head snapped up, eyes wide as he looked at him, almost bewildered.

“what?” he managed to choke out, trying to match the casualness of daniel’s voice.

“you don’t have to fucking lie to me anymore. i know.” max swallowed as those words came out. it felt like the moment that the chair finally got kicked from beneath him and it was over.

“i-i’m not.” max stammered and he didn’t sound believable at all. he knew it. the jig was up.

“yes, you are. i don’t know why, but you are. i know you’re lying, you go to the library everyday instead of class. you sell videos online. you never eat even if you pretend to, i see you get rid of it. and i don’t want you to feel the need to lie to me when i don’t care about what you do or how successful you are. i just-“ he dropped his head and max could see tears in daniel’s eyes.

“i care about you max. i care so much about you, it feels like my heart was ripped out of my chest and everyone can see how much i fucking like you. i rave about you to everyone, i think you are just so beautiful and i don’t understand why you lie to me when all i want is the you i see.” max couldn’t deal with this. he needed to get out of here, out of daniel’s apartment.

daniel was looking at him and max felt even more exposed, the curtain ripped open and here he was: wounded, broken, and a small fraction of what he pretended to be. he scooted his chair up, getting ready to bolt.

daniel knew him too well because he was already up and gently grabbing max’s arm, not tight enough to force him there but firm enough to keep max standing still for a second.

“i’m not mad. please, max. i am not mad at you, i just want you to tell me the truth of what’s going on.” daniel’s eyes were too open, too soft.

max didn’t deserve this.

he wanted it so badly.

“i can not, daniel.” max was really trembling now and daniel’s hand let go of his wrist to trail down to his hand, loosely wrapping max’s in his.

daniel knew he already had max.

max already knew he was about to expose every single fragment of pain to this man.

“let’s start with this: why are you so anxious about your dad?” that was not a small thing to start with but it was the easiest. the most rehearsed part of his story.

“whe-i started karting at 3 years old. i can’t even remember it, but there’s a picture of me in a kart as a child. i can’t remember starting but i can’t remember life without being in that kart, driving around. driving feels like freedom. karting felt like a cage, but i was good, of course i was good. i was made to be a driver. that’s what they said to me. i was offered the seat when i was 16. to start driving in formula 1 at 17 years old. i was going to be the youngest driver in the sport ever. in one of my lower races, i hadn’t eaten for a few days and i blacked out for just a second. and then i was in the wall with my front end severed and both my knees blown out.” he took a deep breath, daniel leading him to his overstuffed couch to sit down so max could gather himself.

“i hated karting. i hated it. it made my parents divorce. my dad was my mechanic, my coach. but he was not my father. every bad result meant i was restricted. from everything. when i told him i didn’t want to return after my injury, he smacked me so hard i couldn’t hear for a few hours. this was of course my entire childhood. i ran away to my mom and told her that i could not do it anymore. she moved me here with her and her new husband. they are back in belgium now but i am still here. i can’t leave. he’s trying to get me to come back and work with him, be under his thumb. again.” max felt like he was floating above his body as he spoke to daniel, his blinking, breathing, and even leg tapping automatic, precise.

daniel was quiet as max spoke, his lips pressed together as he watched max’s face. he could feel daniel’s eyes on him with every word.

“i googled you but…nothing came up.” was all daniel replied. max laughed bitterly.

“look up max v-e-r-s-t-a-p-p-e-n.” he spelled it quick and precise, unable to look at daniel as he pulled out his phone to google him. he saw daniel’s eyes widen as he saw the search results, images of max in his redbull gear, young and eyes full of anger. his racing results. the legacy he was building.

“you are-you’re brilliant.” max was surprised he didn’t say “were”. daniel said “are” like that max and this max were the same person, and not the images of before and after the great tragedy of a young superstar.

“when i got here. my mom made me go to a psychiatrist. said that i needed to talk to someone. he diagnosed me with anxiety, anorexia, and depression. when i was 19, my mom found out i was lying to everyone. she made me go again. they told me i was borderline. i don’t know why. why i am like this. why i lie so much. i lie about my name because i don’t want people to know how much i failed. i lie about everything else because it feels good, i think. to live a life where i’m not-where i succeeded.” he continued.

daniel hummed, pulling max’s hand into his lap.

“i don’t care about who max verstappen might’ve become. i care about who he is now.” he started rubbing circles into max’s hand, looking down at their contrasting fingers. daniel’s tanned hand with max’s paler one. his long slender fingers with bitten nails, max’s shorter fingers and longer palms, nails chipping and brittle.

“i want you to stay with me max. but i also want you to stop lying. i cannot deal with not knowing what’s going on with you. i worry so much about like whether or not you actually have somewhere to go, if you’re okay, if you’re actually eating or getting anything in your body.” he flipped their hands over to look at max’s hands.

“i want to care for you but you need to tell me what you need.” his voice was so quiet and max risked a glance at daniel. he looked sad and max felt like his stomach was flipped inside out. he didn’t want daniel to be sad.

“okay.” max said.

“how do you feel?” was what daniel asked him when the news came. max was surprised. he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised that daniel would ask him that. that’s all daniel asks him in their relationship: how do you feel, what are your thoughts, how was your day, where do you want to go, what do you want to do.

“it sounds like a good opportunity.” was all he replied, slumping back against the couch. daniel just looked at him, eyebrows raised. max pushed his glasses up and let out a deep sigh.

“i think it’s a good idea. for both of us. seattle is too…it’s not what we need, there’s too much history. i think i will miss seattle. i think it’s too good of an opportunity for you to pass up. i think i will follow you to the ends of the earth if that’s what makes you happy. i think i don’t want to pack everything up and move to malibu because that’s just a lot of things to do. i think i need a redbull right now.” daniel laughed, leaning down and cupping max’s jaw to press their noses together.

“and i think you’re being facetious. but i also thing it will be good for us. i think we can visit whenever we need if we miss seattle too much. i think we will hire a company to help us pack. i think that i’ll get you your redbull and we can eat dinner. i think that if you told me you hated the idea, i would just find something else.” he kissed max quickly, making his lips tick up into a smile as he watched daniel practically skip to the kitchen to grab max his redbull.

he came back, two in hand and settled beside max after handing the drink over.

“how was your class today?” max leaned his head onto daniel’s shoulder, curling into him as he inhaled his fiancé’s smell.

“exhausting. but, very lovely to start and finally graduate high school. even though i’m twenty-four.” daniel tightened his arm around max.

“hey, it’s never too late to start! plus it’s only a few months.” he protested and max rolled his eyes.

“you sound like-“ daniel cut him off before he could finish.

“i don’t sound like seb.” daniel protested.

“you do too.”

daniel playfully pushed him away before wrapping both arms around max, pressing a redbull scented kiss to his cheek.

“i’m gonna start dinner. i’m making streusel tonight, just for you.”

max wondered how someone could look so much like a mouse and still be considered one of the most perfect men in the world. charles somehow managed. triple champion and yet all max saw was that mousey boy he knew on the karting track, the boy who pushed him off.

“max!” charles said once he sat down in a whirlwind, sunglasses pushed off his tanned face. “i’ve missed you, mate. you need to come back here more, always so far in california!”

“or you can come to california. you always expect me to fly so far away to see you, when you’re the one who has the money.” charles just scoffed, but max’s smile couldn’t be bigger and neither could charles’.

charles was who max could’ve been. he used to hate charles for that. he also used to pity charles for that. to be so young and in such a position. now he was just happy for him, charles was a great driver and deserved it all.

charles was better than max. if max had stayed driving, he doesn’t think that he would have ever been able to come out, but charles did at such a young age. he faced so much backlash that max couldn’t stand watching anything f1 for months after he did it, only swiping up on charles’ story with his boyfriend and saying “thank you.”

“ah but daniel isn’t doing too bad? so i think you can fly over here to see me when i’m here.” max could see fans of charles’ looking at them through the cafe windows, staring at them. they probably thought that he was charles’ ever mysterious boyfriend. max secretly wondered how disappointed they’d be to learn charles’ actual boyfriend was a tech COO ten years his senior who wore HOKAs and bee shirts.

“is that what you tell sebastian when he complains about having to jet set just because you’re sad?” max fired back.

charles just tilted his head, green eyes dancing with mirth as he nodded.

“how is daniel? you never bring him to see me either! i miss having someone who doesn’t hold memories of me at 15 with a grudge.” charles asked as he looked over the menu.

“daniel is good as always. he’s very excited to see you win this race. told me to tell you that he’ll start a riot if you don’t.” charles’ grin became even bigger and max couldn’t help his own fond grin.

“and how are you, max?” max hated when most people asked him that, but charles was there, in the background to see it all. when they reconnected, max was honest with him, about everything.

“i’m happy. it’s always a good day with daniel and the cats, even when i wake up and it feels like i’m stuck being 15 again.”

charles tilted his head and said “yeah?”

“yeah.” max sighed, smiling as he looked at his phone, the image of him and daniel on their wedding day.

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #sebastian vettel #maxiel #mentions of sebchal #you and i au #just little snippets of their lives #hope everyone enjoys #a better tuesday is always the goal!

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