#exit interview process

[sibyl-of-space]

Work is becoming such a shit show I am SO glad I have an interview Wednesday. I wanted this job I'm interviewing for even before work became a complete shit show but now I'm like IT IS TIIIME TO JUMP SHIP

Like, this was a dumpster fire that I saw coming. But it's much worse than I thought it was going to be so I really want out.

For the past year it's become increasingly clear that our facilities department needs more than one and a half people (I only work part-time). A couple months ago my manager stepped out of her role, good for her, she got the hell out. The interim was stressful which I expected it to be and I've honestly been looking for an out since then but they finally hired someone else who, out of the three candidates that were interviewed, was the least dumpster fire of them and I actually had a good feeling about it.

Well it's unfortunate but oh my god. Like I really do feel for her because she was set up to fail and definitely doesn't have the support she needs to do well in this position, but also, holy fuck, some people really are kind of incompetent. It's not something that makes her a bad person, but it DOES mean I still have to do twice as much work basically, the person above her isn't going to pick up any slack. She also just completely Lacks office communication skills and I actually had to call a meeting with her to stage an intervention when she was clearly overwhelmed because it was at the point where she was just taking it out on the finance department lady she was on a phone call with.

Anyway, I feel for her, it's a bad situation, I'm trying to be non-judgmental and patient, but also I do not get paid enough to deal with this so I'm going to interview for a job where I actually *would* get paid to help people deal with shit, and it's not just a thing I have to do on the side because the manager they hired for me lacks some fundamental Working In An Office skills.

As a woke commie I do feel solidarity with her and want to advocate for better but as the person who works with her directly and train her on certain tasks aiehejddhdhdhdh I'm dying squirtle.

(it's also awkward because I'm pretty sure my manager... I don't know, wants to be friends or something. I get the sense she's very lonely. Like I genuinely feel bad for her I think she's going through a lot and I'm trying to give her what I can on my way out. But also. Part of me thinks nothing's going to change until I leave and it becomes really clear that they need more people working in facilities)

[tillysslife]

ACTORS ON ACTORS–D. Starkey

pairings: drew starkey x actress!reader

warnings: actress!reader taking place of margot robbie in the barbie movie

word count: 1.9k

Your heart fluttered with nerves as you smoothed down your dress in the back seat of your Uber. It was a pink silky dress that clung to your curves, accentuating your skin tone beautifully.

You had recently been invited to the Variety set for a segment called Actors on Actors, and it felt like your career was skyrocketing over the past year. Last year, you won your first Oscars, for Best Actress in a Leading Role for your portrayal of Stereotypical Barbie in the Barbie movie. And now, here you were, doing an interview with the great Drew Starkey, someone who seemed so far removed from your own humble beginnings.

“We’re here, Miss Y/L/N,” your driver pointed out politely. You had been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you to exit the car for the last two minutes.

“Right,” you chuckled, offering him an apologetic smile before taking the final steps to prepare yourself for the anxiety-inducing environment—another quick adjustment of your dress, lip gloss smeared onto your lips, and a toss of your hair.

When you forced a smile this time, you dialed it up to perfection—the smile that could only be produced from fear of constant scrutiny. “Thank you.” You beamed, accepting his help as he guided you out of the car.

You watched as he drove away, almost wishing you were him—escaping from your fears, the terror of being put on a screen that would magnify all your imperfections.

You were ushered into the warm studio before you could fully process the motions of your body. The exterior was dull, a stark contrast to the bright, welcoming interior. “You’ll be needed on set in about 15 minutes! Drew’s already here… oh, he’s so handsome, isn’t he?”

You zoned out the wide-eyed assistant. Normally, you would’ve made an effort to at least pretend you were interested in what someone was saying, offering the occasional noncommittal hum or nod. But under pressure, you were never great at multitasking, which felt ironic given your profession of pretending to have it all together.

Soon enough, you were whisked onto the set of the interview. The first thing you noticed was a broad-shouldered man, his presence larger than his already tall frame. You took in the room—two velvet armchairs sitting atop a grey carpeted floor, a decorated black table nestled between them. The set was simple, designed to ensure that viewers’ attention would be on the two actors, not distracted by anything flashy in the background.

But your eyes wandered upon seeing those sharp blue eyes meet yours across the room. His lips tugged into a small smirk as he registered your presence.

Your heels clicked against the floor, sinking into the plush carpet beneath your shoes as you made your way toward him. You summoned up all the charm and confidence you had, giving Drew a saccharine smile and extending your manicured hand.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m Drew,” he greeted, his large, rough hand meeting yours in a soft shake. You only had a moment to admire the sheer size and power of his hand before he withdrew it to his side.

A small blush crept up your cheeks, hopefully hidden behind the foundation meticulously applied earlier in the day. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this,” you admitted, your eyes flitting up to meet his. The dark lashes framing your gaze locked with his, an unspoken energy buzzing in the air between you.

Drew’s smirk softened, his blue eyes flickering with curiosity. “Likewise. You were incredible in Barbie,” he said, his tone warm but with an underlying admiration.

Your lips curved into a modest smile. “Thank you, that role meant a lot to me,” you replied, your voice quiet, reflective. “But I have to say, I’ve been hearing so much about your new project, Queer—I’m really excited to see it.”

Drew chuckled softly, a light blush creeping up his neck. “It’s definitely been a wild ride,” he admitted. He was about to expand on his opinion before the film crew instructed the duo to take their seats. 

Drew gestured for you to take a seat first, nodding towards the area. You sank into the red armchair, crossing your legs, inadvertently making the hem of your dress rise. You watched as Drew settled into the chair across from you, giving you the chance to fully inspect him.

He was dressed in a matching navy pinstripe suit with a cream undershirt. His legs stretched long in front of him, posture relaxed, but his eyes were intensely fixed on you as if studying your every movement.

He rested his chin against the palm of his hand, his blue eyes never moving from your figure. “So, finally face to face with the exceptional Y/N Y/L/N.” He began, readjusting his position in the chair. 

You breathily laughed “Wow what an introduction.” You smiled softly, your eyes flickering from his eyes, darting down to his lips and then back up again. “It’s hard to believe honestly. I’ve admired you and your work for so long. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment longer than I realised.”

“I just call it like I see it.” Drew’s smile grew warmer, his eyes flickering with an unknown spark. “But you know I was just thinking the same thing. It feels like we’ve both been running in separate circles, but somehow, here we are.”

You cocked your head to the side, the smile never leaving your face. You crossed your legs over the other and leaned slightly forward “Well if we’re giving out title, I guess I should return the favour. The incredibly talented Drew Starkey.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head lightly. “Hard to compete with Barbie herself.”

“Well you could pass as Ken.” You retorted, your eyes lighting up. He had this way of making you feel at ease, even though there was a whole camera crew filming you, watching you every move all you could think about was this beautiful man in front of you who made you laugh at every turn.

Drew laughed, the sound deep and genuine “I’m not sure I’ve got the abs for it.” He joked. 

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you fought back a grin “I think you’d be just fine.” The words escaped before you had permitted them, bringing the second and certainly not the last blush of the day.

His eyes light up with amusement. The ait between you two holding quiet electricity–the kind that settled in stolen glances and unspoken thoughts.

“So,” you continued, shifting the topic before the heat in your cheeks betrayed you again. “Tell me about Queer, I haven’t managed to watch it yet but I’ve heard it’s one of your most challenging roles yet.”

Drew nodded, his expression turning thoughtful “Yeah, it’s… different from anything I’ve done before, a period piece. The story is raw, really personal and significant. It follows this guy, Lee,in the ‘50s as he struggles with identity, his relationships. It’s messy and heartbreaking, but also really beautiful.” 

You listened intentionally, caught up in the way his voice softened as he spoke and the passion in his eyes. “That sounds incredible. I think films that really shed light on hard topics are lovely. It’s what the key to acting is, it's truly storytelling. Especially for those who weren’t able to tell their own story.”

Drew nodded and the shine in his eyes confirmed that he admired your words. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

A few moments of prolonged eye contact lingered between the two of you, only broken by being signalled to speak. 

“So, Miss Barbie. Tell me how that was like.”

You interlaced your fingers on your lap, gathering your thoughts to translate your thoughts in the best way. “Every role that I have the privilege to bring to life is an honour. But Barbie really spoke to me. As many other girls, I played with barbies growing up.” You laughed elatedly, recalling your memories. “ Barbie just seemed so… perfect, she was something that I looked up to. Even if I didn’t look like her it was so encouraging to see all of her careers and journeys. There are countless things that I loved while making this movie but it was truly inspiring to have so many strong and individual women in one space. The movie explores topics of patriarchy and male superiorism, something I'm sure every woman has unfortunately experienced before in their life. But then it shows how women come together, it isn’t a hateful jealous relationship, like how it is constantly portrayed in the media but it was true sisterhood. And god don’t even get me started on America’s speech or ‘What was I made for’, I’ll just start bawling.”

“Right,” Drew started, “I remember when I watched Barbie with my sisters the look of… feeling so totally understood was astounding from them, it hurt that this was something they could relate to. But it’s so powerful and impressive how you represented women all around the world, validating feelings they may have been harbouring.”

You met his gaze, your fingers absently tracing shapes in your dress. “Yeah,” you murmured, holding the weight of his words for a moment longer before letting out a light-hearted sigh. “Wow, that got deep fast.”

Drew tilted his head, scratching the back of his head with a smile “I guess you bring it out of me.”

You shook your head lightly at his antics “So, tell me something shallow about you. Balance things out.”

He chuckled, leaning back “Alright, um… I have an embarrassingly extensive collection of sneakers. I don’t even wear most of them, but I keep buying more.”

You gasped dramatically “Drew Starkey, a sneakerhead? Who would have guessed.”

He held up his hands “I contain multitudes.” 

“Alright, my turn. I have an unhealthy addiction to lipgloss. If I leave my apartment without at least three in my bag, I go crazy fighting out what I’m missing.”

You felt Drew’s gaze flick to your lips, his smirk lazy but unreadable. “I noticed. Looks good on you.”

Your breath hitched slightly before you played it off with an eye roll “Very smooth, Starkey.”

He grinned, “I try.”

The crew began moving around the set, adjusting the cameras, but you barely noticed. The energy between you two was magnetic—effortless. It wasn’t just scripted conversation or polite industry chatter. It was real. And if you weren’t careful, it could become something even more dangerous.

But right now, you weren’t sure you minded.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Nadezh' Interview

Summary: After Nadezh previous identity as the Firebreather, notorious Supervillain, was revealed, she thought she’d lose everything. She’s never been so happy to be wrong.

You can read Nadezh' first story (HERE)

--------------------------.

It’s decided that Nadezh will work in the finance department of Hero Force. She hates to leave her civilian job and her coworkers seeing the success of her budget fully bloom, but the other option is wearing the power suppressors 24/7, and their power frequency vibrates through her engagement ring in a way that reminds her of a bee buzzing, and she won’t take the ring off so.

The interview is a formality but they make her do it anyway. She prepares for it over the course of seven days, making Gannon rehearse every hypothetical question with her until the last minute.

Until the last minute meaning on the drive to Hero Force for the interview.

“There is a discrepancy in the packaging budget,” Gannon reads. He’s used to her driving and doesn’t flinch when she merges too quickly, and a chorus of Chicago drivers chastise her loudly. “There is a flat rate for three different sizes of package. According to the average order value and average product mix, packaging should be $3.5k—Nadezh, Hero Force doesn’t have a commerce division, I don’t think this is necessary.”

Nadezh knows the rest of this question. What steps would you take to reconcile actual and planned? “Of course, there’s the option to conduct a forensic audit, however—”

“We do have a forensic finance department,” Gannon concedes, “but that’s not—”

“—first would be to observe the whole packaging process. While there is a flat rate for all three package sizes that doesn’t mean all orders are being packaged for efficiency—”

Gannon reaches for her knee, thinks better of it, considering her foot on the gas pedal, and diverts to her shoulder. He squeezes, and all of the tension in her back magically eases. “Babe. You’re already overqualified. You’re going to do great.”

They’ve already had this argument, so Nadezh doesn’t say Overqualified? It’s amazing they’re even letting me into a Hero Force building, I could be the President and I still wouldn’t be qualified considering my past. Instead, she says, “Right. Right, thanks. You’re right. Right.”

“Right,” Gannon says seriously.

“Right,” she says and takes the next exit.

“Riiiiiiight.”

By the time they pull into the parking garage, Nadezh is laughing at the increasingly bizarre ways Gannon says the word right. The word barely has meaning anymore, and she’s fairly certain that if anyone else heard Hero Zone sounding so goat-like, they’d send him to psych for an evaluation.

Nadezh gets out of the car first, hurrying before he can say anything else that will set her off.

“Go save the day,” she says. Her face hurts from smiling. She tosses him the keys over the roof of the car after she closes the door. “I can get the train back.”

Gannon rounds the bumper and presses them back into her hand. He kisses her forehead. “No public transport from HQ.”

She blinks, the spot his lips touched tingling. “Is that a rule?”

“Our house rule,” Gannon says. He smiles reassuringly at her. “Just a precaution. I know too many people who get made getting followed out of HQ.”

Gannon always explains himself even though she never asks. Her heart is racing at our house rules. They have house rules. They’re engaged. They’re going to get married. She lifts her chin for a kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you.” He kisses her.

Kissing Gannon is the closest she feels to her powers these days. The warmth that runs through her, the heat in her cheeks, the pounding of her heart – actually she takes it back. It’s not like her power at all. It’s better than her power.

“Break it up!” a man calls from across the parking garage.

Electricity shoots through Nadezh. She didn’t hear him come up behind her. She tries to pull away from Gannon, to turn and protect them, but his hands on her shoulders stop her. Her brain catches up a moment later. Gannon is relaxed, warm brown eyes still happy. The voice is familiar.

“It’s not goodbye yet,” another voice says grumpily. This time Nadezh recognizes the speaker. When her tension eases, Gannon lifts his hands long enough for her to turn and greet Flare. He drapes his arms over Nadezh’s shoulders. Flare’s eye twitches. “There’s, like, a whole elevator ride to go.”

“There’s cameras in the elevator,” Gannon says.

Nadezh still doesn’t know what to make of Gannon’s Hero team. Omit – the leader of the team – is decent. Fast, sound decisions on the field, always knows when to retreat, which is important when your team is made of B and C-rank heroes.  His power – to eliminate an object from the enemy’s perception during battle – makes her uneasy. Despite his openness with her, she can’t erase the suspicion that he’s using his powers on her from her mind.

She likes Flare. The woman is bright and bubbly, almost six inches shorter than Nadezh, with all the energy of a hummingbird. Though she’s stationed on Gannon’s team, she’s in high demand across the city. There aren’t many fliers out there, and although her dragonfly wings aren’t exactly subtle, she’s fast enough and strong enough to conduct recon across Lake Michigan. Flare keeps Gannon safe when he’s out saving the world. Nobody sneaks up on them with her around.

Mostly.

“Us singles are feeling left out,” Omit says and tries to drape an arm over Flare’s shoulders.

Flare flits away. “Interview today?” she asks Nadezh.

“Right,” Nadezh says.

Gannon’s burst of surprised laughter lasts all the way to Nadezh’s floor where he waves goodbye breathlessly.

Even with his mask obstructing the crow’s feet she loves, Nadezh savors the memory of his joy all the way to her interview.

----.

Agent Briston isn’t like any other agent Nadezh has ever seen. He’s in his sixties, round, bald, and wearing a sweater vest under his regulation suit jacket. She thinks there’s a reason agents like him are kept out of sight. He looks like an easy target—no. She doesn’t think about people as targets anymore. She means that he looks like the grandfather in a commercial about watches, the one who takes the vintage watch off of his own wrist to wrap it around the grandson’s with an air of gravity.

“This interview isn’t a guarantee, despite your…recommendations,” Agent Briston says the moment Nadezh sits down. His desk has nothing but a computer, a notepad, and a pen. Somehow the harried look on his face makes it seem cluttered with paper. “We don’t have the budget for many staff. We need to be selective.”

Nadezh resists the urge to pull at the Hero Force regulation mask on her face or the power suppressors around her wrists. Part of her agreement with Foresight was that she’d wear the cuffs whenever Gannon wasn’t with her. The blue glow feels ostentatious, and she hopes Agent Briston won’t turn her down based on them. “Understood, sir.”

“Briston,” Agent Briston says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Only the heroes call me sir. My staff calls me Briston.”

Nadezh nods. “I’m Nadezh Mel—”

“No last names, Nadezh,” Briston says. He pulls his glasses from a desk drawer and puts them on. He squints at his computer. “Now. Tell me.  Do you have accounting experience?”

“Yes, si—Briston.”

Briston’s thick white eyebrows raise and he abandons his computer to focus back on Nadezh. He seems skeptical. “Really?”

“I created the office budget for my last company,” Nadezh says. She has a better way to say this, she rehearsed this with Gannon— “My plan allowed for the purchase of new chairs and a copier.”

Briston stares at her. “You really have accounting experience.”

Did he not hear her? Or did she answer incorrectly? “I-I was also part of the team that allocated reinvestment funds—”

“Foresight’s recruits never have accounting experience.”

“—and payroll for over 500 employees—”

“Payroll!” Briston looks up at the ceiling. “She does payroll!”

“I—I’m sorry?” she says. She can’t read his tone. Is he disappointed or being sarcastic? She scrambles for her next interview answer. “I have a bachelor’s in accounting from Illinois State, but I plan to complete my master’s in the next five years—”

Briston makes a sound she’s only ever heard from frightened raccoons. “You’re hired,” Briston declares. He reaches over the desk to shake her hand. “I’ll draw up a counteroffer before noon.”

Confused, Nadezh shakes his hand. His grip is surprisingly strong. “Sir? The terms of my employment should already be in my file.” Foresight had made it clear she’d be starting at the bottom level of the pay scale.

“We aren’t paying my new director that,” Briston says. “We’ll start double that and see what they counter offer.”

“They? Aren’t you in charge of salary approvals?” Nadezh asks. Then, as his words sink in, “Director?!”

Briston beams at her. “Experience, a degree, and common sense! We’ll settle for 30% higher than the initial offer with a condition for an additional 10% at the next performance review.”

“Director,” Nadezh says. When Briston doesn’t answer, ignoring her in favor of typing feverishly, Nadesh says with surety, “You’re joking.”

Briston hums and doesn’t answer her.

“Right?”

----.

Briston isn’t joking.

Gannon takes a dazed Nadezh out for dinner and drinks to celebrate. The private room he reserves is in the back of a Japanese restaurant run by a former Superhero. There are flowers on the table, candles strategically placed around the room, soundproofing on the walls, and a chilled bottle of Nadezh's favorite white wine waiting. She processes all of this distantly. She makes Gannon read her employment contract between bites of sushi. Bemused, he dutifully announces her employed status and starting salary whenever she asks.

“Guess I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors about the department head,” Gannon says. Rather than surprised, his voice carries an element of relief. “You’re barely taking a salary cut with this.”

“Cut? This is a ten percent raise,” Nadezh hisses. She stares at her green tea. “Does Foresight know?” A jolt of sick fear floods with her. “I didn’t make Briston give me a raise, I swear!”

“Nadezh, of course you didn’t,” Gannon says. He reaches across the table to nudge at her clenched hands. Automatically, she unfurls them to reveal half-moon indents from her nails. He slides his palm against hers. “You deserve this.”

“But Foresight might think—”

“He won’t.” Gannon picks up his chopsticks with his left hand, content to let his right keep holding hers so that her dominant hand is free. He’s clumsier with them and frowns as he chases salmon roe around his plate. “Briston has almost unilateral say in the finance department. Nobody can sway him. He’s known for being short-tempered, cheap, and stubborn. I’m sure Foresight will just be grateful he finally hired someone.”

Nadezh narrows her eyes. “You said you didn’t know the person interviewing me.”

“Oops?” Gannon finally catches the salmon roe under a bite of rice and pops it in his mouth. He chews innocently. “Did I?”

“Fess up.”

“It’s not like I know a lot. People say Briston fires more than he hires.” Gannon’s eyes shift to the side.  “Aaaand that he can be heard yelling whenever it’s time to calculate overtime expenses. Or whenever the armory submits their expense report. Or when the audit team comes back with city damage claims. Or when—”

Nadezh drops her head into her free hand, letting her long black hair hide her for a moment. She forgot that Hero Force accountants dealt with destroyed skyscrapers and medical leave for when you got your arms ripped off in a fight, not copiers and desk chairs. “You didn’t think to mention any of this before the interview?!”

“You were freaked out enough.” Gannon pauses in the way he does when he’s about to say what he’s really thinking so Nadezh doesn’t interrupt. She waits as he chews until he finally says, “I’m glad he bumped your salary. I was starting to feel guilty.”

Nadezh’s hand spasms around Gannon’s. “Guilty?”

“Yeah,” Gannon says. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I argued against making you leave your job. Said it made Hero Force the sort of organization everyone always accuses us of being. Overreaching and, well…cruel.”

“You didn’t tell me about that either.” Had he been thinking that this whole time? While she made him practice interview questions with her? Did he think she was forcing herself? The thought of Gannon feeling even a tenth of the gnawing guilt that lives inside her makes her want to throw up. Nadezh shakes her head and leans across the table. She’s glad for the private room and how it allows her to show him how his words affect her. “Babe, you don’t have anything—"

“I know how hard you worked for that job,” Gannon interrupts. He licks his lips. Now it’s his turn to stare at his tea. “Please, just…listen.”

Nadezh would do anything Gannon asked. She squeezes his hand again and fights the words bubbling up her throat like lava.

“We haven’t really talked since that day,” Gannon says. He’s a Hero; he makes himself look into her eyes. “I haven’t really talked. I’ve been afraid to. I know your past isn’t…isn’t good. I do. And I know that you don’t want to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist.”

She wants to, but she can’t. Like hunger and emptiness, she doesn’t think Gannon will ever understand the weight she carries from the harm she’s done. The screams she’d once reveled in now haunt her in ways she could never have guessed. But he’s talking to her, so she doesn’t explain. She listens.

“I feel like I’ve been making you give up everything for me,” Gannon confesses in a rush. He speaks faster as her eyes widen, like if he makes his sentences a big enough river, she won’t be able to dam it up. “Your first civilian job, your past, and your freedom to do whatever you want to do – because you could do anything, you really could – and even your powers.” He rubs his thumb over the underside of her wrist where the power suppressors sit during working hours. His face crumples. “Every morning, I will have to take you to put them on. It’s…I hate it. It feels like I’m abandoning you, or like I’m part of your punishment, or like I’m not being the partner you deserve.”

She starts, half rising from her seat. “Gannon! How could you—?”

His grip is strong on her hand, and he gestures for her to sit with a quick jerk of his chin. His eyes close tight. “Please, Nadezh.”

She quiets.

It takes him a long time to start speaking again. He remains quiet until he’s able to look her in the eyes again. “You…that day. The day you saved my and my team’s life.”

The day she thought her fairytale had come to an end. Even now, the memory of his blank eyes as she revealed the red and gold costume of the Firebreather, one of the world’s most notorious and deadly supervillains, follows her. The cold wind whipping across the ship’s deck, the pillars of ice gleaming in the sun, his team haltingly asking her if she was going to take over the boat…and his eyes. The pain that ripped through her when she realized she would lose him was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. It had made her realize that she’d been a shell for years until she met him, that she’d been nothing until he showed her a world where she could be someone. In that moment, she’d known that she’d wasted his time on a dead end. That their dream to get married would never be the same if it happened at all and she had robbed him in her greed.

But he remembers it as the day she saved his life rather than dooming his future.

“I became a hero to save people,” Gannon says. His lips thin. “How did I put it? That day at the diner? To share the relief of having the day saved.” His face twists in a way she can’t understand. “You must have thought I was so naïve.”

“No,” she says simply.

He raises their hands so he can kiss the back of hers. “Thank you. I think I was naïve. Being a hero seemed simple, looking at the world that way, like everyone wanted to be saved and, in turn, wanted to one day go on to save someone else. Every moment of salvation would get repaid. Good things would always happen to good people.”

Well, when he put it like that.

Gannon continues, “But when I saw you standing there, dressed as the Firebreather, being saved was…different. It was all different.” He swallows hard. “For the first time, I realized saving the day wasn’t so simple. You had to reveal your identity to do it. You had to put your freedom and everything you worked for on the sidelines. Even us. You were ready to do it even if it meant we never got the chance to be married. I could tell that you weren’t going to let that stop you. You were going to save the day.  Instead of being relieved, I felt afraid.”

A small noise of protest builds in Nadezh’s throat. “Afraid of me?”

“No!” Gannon’s eyes widen and he leans over the table. “No, never. Never, Nadezh. Even when that last fireball singed the toes of my boots, I didn’t flinch for a moment. I knew you would never hurt me.”

Nadezh’s laugh is watery. “So that’s why you threw out those boots.”

“Regulation is closed toe,” Gannon says gravely. He plays with her fingers. “I was afraid because I realized there was a cost that I wasn’t willing to pay, but you were.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” Nadezh says.

“I know.” Gannon clears his throat and adjusts his grip on her hand so that he can feel her pulse against his thumb. “I know. I’m not saying that’s wrong.  Just…it was hard, wasn’t it?” His brown eyes search hers. “You knew before you even left the apartment to find me that you were going to lose everything.”

“But I didn’t,” Nadezh points out.

“But that’s what you thought.”

She can’t deny that.

“Saving the day is easy when it’s just a job,” Gannon says. “That day, I realized that I’d never really been a hero. It was a job, an important one, but not one that was going to take anything I wasn’t willing to give. That same job was the reason I let myself just stand there as Hero Force took you into custody. Like a coward. I hate myself for that moment.” His voice is raw with the admission. His free hand curls into a fist. “I should have run with you then.”

Nadezh barks a disbelieving laugh. It’s inappropriate, but the idea of Hero Zone, the most honorable hero in Chicago, running away with a supervillain is ridiculous. She hides her incredulity. “That’s—”

“I’m serious, Nadezh.” Gannon’s eyes burn through her, gaze unflinching. Her pulse jumps under his thumb. “I still think that. We could run now. Settle down somewhere and be civilians. Never show up on Hero Force radar again. Like Bonnie and Clyde hiding out from the law.”

“That’s not funny.” Try as she might, Nadezh can’t find any trace of humor on Gannon’s face. Her eyes dart around the room. When she can’t find any cameras, she leans forward and hisses, “Don’t even joke about that. You love being a hero.”

“I love being with you,” Gannon says. This time when he smiles the mole under his eye disappears with the force of it. “I told you, all I want is to marry you. No job will ever be worth more than that. So…” His smile wavers for a moment before he fixes it in place. “What do you say? Will you run away with me?”

Fuck. Her mind leaps ahead. They could get a place in the mountains. She knows how much Gannon misses his hometown on the East Coast. His family has long since disappeared from those ridges and valleys, but she can see him there, facing the sun with his arms held over his head in triumph. A field sprawled out below him blooms with green and a house sits just beyond that with a gently smoking chimney. Could she belong there too? With him?

Gannon mistakes her silence. “You wouldn’t have to wear the power suppressors ever again or worry about Briston yelling or what Hero Force will make you do. It could be just you and me like we always imagined. Together.”

Is he pleading with her? Begging her to say yes?

There will always be a part of her that wants to. The greedy and selfish part that wants to keep him all to herself, like the doll in her childhood that unraveled at the seams after only a month. The part of her that could hide him away is familiar. Too familiar.

“No.”

Gannon’s face falls. “No?”

“Not because I don’t want us,” she assures. Somehow, she feels lighter. Is this what’s been sitting silently between them this whole time? She could laugh. “I do. But I think you’re misunderstanding something. You’re not the reason why I’m cooperating with Hero Force.” She thinks over her words and then rephrases. “You’re not the only reason.”

“I’m not?” Gannon backtracks. “I mean, it’s not a problem if I’m not, but I thought…well. I thought given what you said in the interrogation room…”

“You will always be the love of my life,” Nadezh says. She finds the words as she says them. She’s had a lot of time to think about this – Gannon is not the first one to think what it’d be like to run away. “That will never change. It’s just…” Private room, she reminds herself. No one will be able to hear. She confesses, “I want to change. I don’t want to be the Firebreather anymore.”

“You’re not!”

Keep him, no one can stop you, power suppressors barely work once we really get up to temperature—Nadezh stops those thoughts firmly in their tracks. “There are parts of me that still are. I was afraid when I revealed who I was, but since then look how far I’ve come. You know all of me and you’re still here.” She lets her wonder and hope leak into her voice. Some mornings she wakes up to him by her side and can’t fathom how the universe let someone with hands as stained as hers have something so good. “I have a job. I have a way to give back for all the harm I caused. I…I think confronting my past has given me a chance to grow like I haven’t done before. A year ago, I couldn’t even accept the proposal from the man I love more than life itself. Now? I know that I can walk into work every day and have those power suppressors put on me by Hero Force -not you - and I can hold my head high.”

“Not me? Nadezh, I’m your containment,” Gannon says. His expression is tortured in the candlelight. “You say it’s Hero Force, but it’s me. I’m the one holding you back. Foresight said that Firebreather was sufficiently contained by my side, he awarded me custody—”

“Are you feeling guilty over that?” Nadezh’s mouth drops open. “Gannon, seriously?”

“I feel like I’m choosing to be your captor over being your fiancé,” Gannon says.

“Just like how you knew I would never hurt you, I know you would never hurt me. I wouldn’t even have to use my powers. I know the second I didn’t want to put those cuffs on, you wouldn’t.”

“I’m still—”

“No.” Nadezh won’t allow any room for confusion here. “Gannon. Stop. I am the one choosing to do this. That day I gave you a choice, remember? I said that you could walk away and I would be—” fine is a strong word “—I would understand. I was going to keep the memory of us agreeing to get married and let you walk away.”

There’s gravel in Gannon’s voice. He reaches across the table to capture her other hand. “I would never change my mind.”

“I believe you.” He was patient with her, waiting for her to believe it. She holds his hands back. “I believe you. So here’s what I’m asking. You gave me a choice just now. Stay or run away. Please believe me when I say I want to stay.”

“Even if it means I have to be your captor?” he asks, anguished.

She nearly snaps at the question. Isn’t he listening to what she’s saying? His tone stills her. She studies him. His eyes are teary, and she can feel his hands tremble in hers. “This really bothers you.”

He nods wordlessly.

She tries to put herself in his shoes. She imagines that he’s working as a henchman who used to be a hero. She imagines putting cuffs on him before work every day, knowing that he’d be helpless if the Villain ever decided to turn on him—She winces. “Maybe we can ask Omit to put on the cuffs instead?”

“I…we could try that,” Gannon says after a long moment. He breathes in through his nose. Out through his mouth. In through his nose. Then, “I really ruined this celebration dinner, huh?”

She snorts. Both of their eyes are red and swollen despite neither of them crying. “This is about how most of my celebration dinners have gone. Better, actually. Nobody is screaming and nothing’s on fire.”

“Yet,” Gannon says.

“See? There’s still hope.” They’ve been talking for so long that her wine is warm. She grimaces as she swallows. “Hey, captor? I think it’s time you took me to a secondary location.”

“That’s not funny.” Despite his words, Gannon’s lips twitch as he stands and pushes in his chair. “I’m really upset about that.”

Nadezh follows him to the door. She caresses his shoulder, ostensibly checking him for dust, but really needing the contact. “Should I comfort you?”

Gannon drops back to put his arm around her shoulders. “Hmmm, keep talking.”

“I think I have Stockholm syndrome—”

“I change my mind. No more talking.”

Nadezh laughs. “Riiiight.”

It’s not perfect. Nadezh knows that the conversation isn’t over. There’s a guardedness in Gannon she’s never seen before when talking about Hero Force. He doesn’t believe her, not yet. But that’s okay.

She’ll be around to convince him.

(Except for 9am-5pm Monday through Friday. She somehow doesn’t think Briston would take kindly to a hero responsible for flooding the docks every other week hanging around the office.)

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and what I do, please consider checking out my Patreon where I post all sorts of pieces earlier than I do on Tumblr!

Next week I have the continuation of my Cinderella retelling going up there first and then here later in March. You can read Cinderella here (Tumblr X) (PatreonX)

Patreon(X)

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

“Marry.”

“What?”

“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”

“Eddie, we’re not playing FMK; you’re supposed to be telling me his name.”

“Oh. That’s…. Joe Jonas.”

“…he’s literally from Hawkins. And he’s holding a hockey stick.”

“Nobody from Hawkins is that hot, man, no way.”

~~~

Gareth posts the clip to his personal TikTok. Before he can get around to reposting it on Corroded Coffin’s band account, it has more than 100k views. Things only spiral from there, because once the band shares it, the video goes more viral and ends up on the screens of the right people.

chiblkhwks: harrington94 is social media challenged, but we’re going to make sure he sees this. Will keep you posted.

The comment is immediately overshadowed by a busy day of PR. A photoshoot to an interview to a radio show to the green room at the Fillmore in Boston, before an intimate pre-album release show for members of their fan club. Eddie has completely forgotten about the video entirely, but Gareth’s phone pings with a text notification.

“A response has been issued!” He declares to the room, still grinning down at the screen of his phone.

The rest of the band shares a collectively confused look, all seeming pleased to find they’re not alone in whatever they’ve missed.

“What?” Jeff asks for the group.

In lieu of an explanation, Gareth just flips the phone in his hand around to show a TikTok, stitched with the clip they’d made earlier that morning.

~~~

“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”

#Stitch

“Is… is that supposed to be a compliment?” Steve asks, making a pinched face as he laces up his skates.

“You watched the whole video. He compared you to Joe Jonas.” The girl behind the camera responds, but he levels her with an unimpressed look. She doesn’t respond, and after a beat, he sighs.

“Yeah, alright, I guess Joe Jonas is hot. I’ll take the compliment.” He huffs, standing to his feet and moving from the bench he’d been suiting up on toward the ice. The girl follows him, gliding toward the net once they're in the rink, never falling out of pace with him.

“Do you know who it is talking in the video?” She presses, and Steve looks unimpressed again.

“You mean the other hot guy?” He asks with a grin, then nods. “That was Eddie. I’m surprised you don’t know him, the Party listens to Corroded Coffin all the time.”

The video loops back to the stitched clip from Gareth’s initial TikTok then. Everyone in the room processes what just unfolded.

“The Party? Did… did Steve Harrington just make a reference to DnD? Or is that some sports thing I dont understand?” Jeff asks.

Freak raises his hand, indicating he’s next to speak. “Not only that, but his nerdy DnD friends listen to us all the time?”

“Did King Steve call Joe Jonas hot?” Eddie asks, visibly still trying to connect the wires in his brain that fried at Steve’s agreement. “Did he call me hot?”

All three turn toward Eddie, whose face is still reflecting the long form math equation his brain is trying to work out, and Jeff sighs.

“Well, boys. I think we’ve officially lost him.” He says, bowing his head. Freak and Gareth join him solemnly, making Eddie huff and cross his arms over his chest.

“You’re all so dramatic.”

“Gee, I wonder who encouraged us to be this way,” Freak exaggerates through a grin, before shoving a guitar into Eddie’s chest, just in time for Paige to open the door and summon them.

“We can have a meltdown over Harrington after the gig,” Gareth promises with a pat to Eddie’s back as everyone moves around him, exiting the green room and heading for the stage.

~~~

Riding his post-show high, Eddie makes a bold move in the CC band TikTok, commenting under the video Steve had stitched.

corrodedcoff!n: we’ll be in chicago 1/26 if harrington94 and ‘the party’ are free 🎫

He only gets about 20 minutes of peace before Gareth is jumping around, proclaiming himself the greatest wingman in history.

“It’s an offer for free concert tickets made over social media, and he hasn’t even answered, Gare Bear.” Eddie tries to get him to relax, but he, too, is eager to see how the other reacts to the offer.

He wakes up the next morning to the answer he’d been waiting on, and his stomach flips as he reads it over.

harrington94: only if you guys come to the home game 1/27 🏒

__________

Steve doesn’t even bat an eye when Max shoves her way into the locker room, b-lining straight for him.

“Can I help you?” He asks without looking up, unhooking the padding from his calf and letting it drop to the ground in front of his locker.

“Are you using TikTok to publicly flirt with Eddie Munson?” She asks, voice quieter than he’d typically expect from her, but he just scoffs.

“I’m just being friendly! You’re the one who started this in the first place! What, you didn’t expect me to log on and check if they’d responded?” He asks in response, freeing his foot from the skate, before placing a cover over the blade and letting the boot drop into the lower shelf beside his locker.

“I’m just confused because you’ve been super weird about coming out, and now you’re out here hitting on a rockstar all over social media, that’s all.” Max says, and Steve freezes for a moment.

“Do you…” he trails off, before closing his eyes and rubbing a thumb into his temple. “You really think I just accidentally came out?”

“You called Joe Jonas and Eddie Munson hot, encouraged this rockstar to come to your game when he’s in town and also accepted tickets to see him perform, Steve.” Max was monotone, and held her hands up defensively when he groaned. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying that this could get blown out of proportion now.”

They discuss a little further, deciding neither of them will publicly acknowledge anything that’s been posted to the account for now, until they actually come up with a plan.

Once he’s in his car heading home, Steve calls Robin.

“Dingus,” she greets, as always, and he lets out a grumble. “Uh oh. What happened?”

“I think I accidentally came out on the internet, and it’s Eddie Munson’s fault.” He’s met with several seconds of silence as he starts his car on the path to him and Robin’s shared apartment.

“Eddie, the drug dealer from high school?” Robin eventually asks, confused, and Steve groans again.

“Yeah. He uh, also is in a band?” He supplies, and Robin’s quiet for a moment as she processes. Then, he hears the tapping of a keyboard. “What are you doing?”

“Looking Eddie up, obviously.” Steve can practically see her eye roll, even though they’re not FaceTiming. “You’re nothing if not consistent, I guess. Doe-eyed curly brunet.”

Steve scoffs. “You say as though you’re not the one currently waking up beside Nance every morning.”

He’s met again by a short silence, before Robin lets out a little puff of air, in a small laugh. “Thank you again for being so cool about that, by the way.” She says, before he hears clicking on her end. “Apparently, Eddie is out as bi. Corroded Coffin does a charity show for the Trevor Project every year, and he’s been to a lot of Pride events.”

Steve’s stomach twists with each new bit of information she provides, because a part of him wants to be that out, wants to be like Robin or apparently Eddie, freely sharing that part of themselves with the world and having no one give a shit. But that’s not how it works on so many levels for Steve. Beside the shit he’d have to deal with on the ice from certain other players, he had no idea how it would impact the team overall. There’s no way to gauge how fans would react, when there’s never been an openly gay player in the NHL. And that didn't even begin to touch on how his parents would react.

“Hey,” Robin breaks him out of his spiral and he realizes he’s been chewing a hole into his cheek. “I can hear how loud you’re thinking right now. Do you need me to come home?” She asks, gently, and he sighs.

“Please.” He mumbles after a long pause, and is grateful when he hears the jingle of car keys from the other end of the phone.

~~~

Robin scrolls through article after article once she gets to their place, pulling Steve onto the sofa with her and laying his head in her lap. Her fingers twist through his hair, doing her best to keep him calm as she reads up on the situation playing out to try and help gauge how big of a hole he’s dug himself this time.

“I don’t think there’s really anyone who thinks you were flirting with him. Not seriously, at least.” She tries to assure him, but he’d already seen the twitter posts to contradict that before she came over. He sighs and rolls onto his back, so he’s looking up at her, and shrugs.

“I kind of don’t think there’s any avoiding it, at this point.” He mumbles. “I’m not… I’m not ready to come out, not like this. Not on this scale. I think the only thing I can do is carry on and hope it doesn’t get turned into any bigger of a deal.”

Robin hums down at him, and continues to brush his hair back out of his eyes. “Okay. So you don’t come out yet. But don’t overcompensate for it, okay?” He scrunches his face up at her, and she types something into her phone before turning it back into his face. He immediately pales, met with a photo of him out with Heidi last year. With a black eye on full display, he looks miserable behind a fake smile.

“Low blow,” he grumbles, pushing himself away from Robin to sit up beside her, and she raises her eyebrow at him, still holding the photo pointed in his direction.

“‘Maybe they won’t notice or ask why my literal teammate punched me in the face at practice if I take a fucking supermodel out to dinner.’” Robin’s imitation is a little too good, a sure sign of too much time spent together.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it!” He asks, taking the phone off of her and closing out of the image before locking it. He drops it back into her lap with a sigh. “I just don’t know how many times I can keep getting away with hiding it.”

“Well, it helps that Billy got traded out to LA. He would be insufferable about this, and would absolutely make everything 10 times worse.” Robin muses.

Steve sighs and hesitates for a moment before dropping his head back into her lap, curling into her. “I just want it to be on my terms, when I’m ready.”

“We’ll figure it out, and it’ll all be okay, no matter what. Okay?” She assures quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.

His phone dings with a new notification; Max texted him a screenshot from TikTok.

corrodedcoff!n: you’ve got yourself a deal 🤝🏻

[oikarma]

look me in the eye | pt.2

pairing: max verstappen x rbr!engineer!reader

summary: the rb21 is unfixable but that's definitely not the only reason max verstappen wants you around.

a/n: "who cares what they think" bf and overthinker gf are my roman empire

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Max doesn't give you much of a choice.

One minute, you're wrapping up post-race debriefs with your teammates, pretending that you're not reeling from his reaction to your possible departure. They're very polite and do not pry into the conversation they all obviously heard. The next, he's standing by the garage exit, jacket in hand, waiting.

"Dinner," he says. It’s not a request.

You hesitate, glancing around. "I mean, I don't think-"

"I need to talk to you." His words are softer but still determined. "Properly. Not in the garage. Not with twenty people listening."

Your stomach twists. You should say no. You should.

Instead, you find yourself sitting across from him in a dimly lit restaurant, the scent of freshly baked bread and seared steak filling the air. It's nothing fancy. Fancy means attention. It's quiet, tucked away, the kind of place he probably picked because he assumed no one would bother him here.

But Max Verstappen is not someone who goes unnoticed.

Right now he's focused, barely glancing at the menu. It feels more like a business arrangement than a catch-up. That's how it's meant to be. Max is, in the hierarchy pyramid, somewhere a few diagonal triangles above you.

"Tell me what you need," he says as his fingers tap restlessly against the table. "More support? More control over the car setup? I'll talk to Christian."

You sigh, setting your menu down. "Max, it's not just about that. It's-"

A hushed voice at a nearby table. A phone camera clicks and, judging by the kerfuffle that follows, the person who pressed the button didn't expect it to be so loud.

Your stomach drops. Max's gaze flickers over your shoulder, jaw tightening as realization dawns.

"Shit," he mutters.

You don't turn around. You don't need to. The whispers are getting louder, the occasional giggle or gasp confirming what you already know-someone recognized him. And worse? They recognized you.

Your chest tightens. This is exactly what you didn't want. Attention. Speculation. The internet dissecting every detail of why Red Bull's star driver is having dinner with one of the team's engineers. Especially after that interview. Two things that should not be happening in quick succession.

Max leans forward and his voice is low. "Hey."

You shake your head, gripping your napkin like it's a lifeline. "I need to go."

"If you leave now, it’ll be worse."

You know he's right. Storming out will just make it look more suspicious. But that doesn’t stop the anxiety creeping up your spine.

Max studies you for a moment before making a decision. He leans back, body language shifting, a small smirk curling at the corner of his lips. Then, loud enough for the nearby table to hear-

"You're overthinking. Just enjoy your food."

It's so casual, so normal, that for a split second, it throws you off. And judging by the way the whispers fade just a little, it throws everyone else off too.

Max is playing it cool. Acting like this is nothing, just a casual dinner, nothing worth speculating over.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to match his energy. You pick up your menu again, even though you're too tense to focus on the words. "Fine," you sigh. "But if this ends up all over Twitter, I'm blaming you."

His grin deepens. "I'll take full responsibility."

Under the table, where no one can see, his fingers graze against yours. It's only for a second. It's probably an accident, you tell yourself.

You look into his eyes and you know it means so much more than just that.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

You wake up to chaos.

Your phone won't stop buzzing. The messages, missed calls, and notifications stacking up faster than you can process. At first, you think it's just another race week frenzy. Then you open Twitter.

Max Verstappen on a dinner date with Red Bull engineer. Garage romance?

Attached is the photo. A little grainy, taken from the next table over, but unmistakably you and Max. He's leaning in, smirking, looking far too comfortable across from you. You're gripping your menu like you were ready to bolt.

There are too comments to keep track of.

user1 she's been in the garage w him all season user2 Bro is dating his own engineer to fix the car 💀💀💀 user3 i fear they look GOOD together user4 is she the one he slipped up about in the interview??

You barely register the rest before Christian Horner is calling you. You pick up immediately instead of letting him go to voicemail. This is bad.

"Do you know what's happening online?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I just saw it."

He breathes loudly-you can hear it over the phone. "Look, we don't comment on personal lives, but if anyone asks, we stick to the story. It was a casual team dinner, nothing more. Max's team is probably already handling it."

Max.

As if on cue, another message flashes across your screen.

Unknown It's Max

Unknown Don't look at twitter

Too late.

By the time you get to the paddock, the damage is done. Journalists are already circling, cameras flashing whenever you so much as breathe near Max's side of the garage. You stick next to Liam's car. You don't know what you're doing there, but he kind of does and pretends to talk with you about something he doesn't understand either. Good lad.

You keep your head down, pretending not to notice the murmurs. When you step into the engineering office, Max is already waiting.

He's scrolling through his phone. You can't see anything behind those startling blue-green eyes of his. You still can't when he looks up. "They're making a big deal out of nothing."

You exhale. "I'm trending on Twitter."

He shrugs, completely unfazed. "And?"

You blink. "And? Do you know what people are saying? That I'm-” You lower your voice. “That I'm sleeping with you for my job. That you’re-”

"Using you to fix the car?" His lips press together. Now his eyes darken, the sky before the storm. "Bullshit. Do they not know how engineers work? They fix the car anyway."

You shake your head. "It doesn't matter if it's bullshit. It's out there."

Max crosses his arms. "So?"

"So?" you echo, incredulous. "I don't want this. I don't want my name attached to you like I'm some stupid tabloid headline!"

He seems to read you. "Do you think I wanted it either? I just wanted dinner. I wanted to talk to you, convince you not to leave. Not...this."

Your anger deflates. You can't be mad at him. People are people.

Max pushes off the desk and steps closer. "Tell you what. If you want, I'll shut it down. Tell them all it's nothing, that it was just a stupid meal. That you mean nothing to me."

The words sting even though you know he doesn’t mean them.

You swallow hard. "Would you?"

His jaw tightens. "If that’s what you want."

You should say yes. You should. But he's the one waiting for you to make a choice-the choice-and you're frozen.

"I don't know," you whisper.

Is that relief you see on his face?

"Then we don't say anything."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The orange army has risen, and it's not McLaren's. The checkered flag waves, and above the screaming engines and the crackling of team radios, one thing is clear: Max Verstappen has won again.

Against the odds, against the struggles, against a car that has fought him all season, he has done what Max Verstappen does best.

He has won.

The Red Bull garage erupts. Engineers shout, mechanics throw their arms around each other, and the pit wall slams their hands down in victory. You barely register the chaos because your eyes are glued to the screens, watching as Max slows down on his cool-down lap, his voice breaking through the radio.

"YES, LET'S GO!" His laugh is breathless. "That was so, so good. Thank you, guys. Thank you."

You exhale. He did it. You don't even recognize the warm feeling going through you because suddenly, he's there.

Before you can even process it, Max is sprinting toward the garage, helmet ripped off, his fireproofs half-unzipped and clinging to his sweat-drenched skin. There's no hesitation, no second-guessing-shouldn't he be out there?-as he skids next to you.

Your heart lurches.

You don't even have time to move before he reaches you, before his hands find your waist and he pulls you in.

"Max-" Your protest dies in your throat because holy shit he's so close. His breath is warm against your skin, adrenaline pouring off him in waves.

"You," he pants, eyes wild and utterly alive. "You made that happen."

You shake your head, flustered beyond belief. "Max, you-"

But he cuts you off, hands tightening like he's afraid you'll slip away. "No. You fought for this car. You never stopped." He swallows, chest rising and falling. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

You feel every nerve in your body short-circuiting.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Just static.

Max searches your face. He looks at you as he does his father, after a race is over. Like this win doesn't mean as much if you aren't part of it. There is one person in the world he cares about making happy...might there be a second?

You’re completely, utterly speechless.

"Lost for words?" he teases.

You shove at his chest, but your laughter betrays you. "Shut up, Verstappen."

You untangle yourself from his grasp and motion for him to greet some other of the team members. The media must be having a field day. And after the entire PR talk, too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The celebrations are still in full swing when Max is pulled into an interview. The champagne drips from his hair as a permanent grin is stretched across his face. He's still breathless, still buzzing, still high off the win.

The reporter from Sky Sports barely has to ask the first question before Max is already talking.

"Max, that was an incredible drive. How does it feel to take this victory after the struggles you’ve had with the car?"

Max laughs easily. "Yeah, it wasn't easy. The car still isn't perfect, but today, it worked. And that's not just me, that's the team, that's the people who keep pushing-"

His words cut off for a second, his mind catching up to his own excitement. His tongue is loose, his filter nonexistent.

And then-

"-that's her."

The interviewer blinks. "Who?"

Max doesn't hesitate. "My engineer."

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Your stomach drops as you watch from the back of the garage, eyes wide as the cameras zoom in on him. He's still grinning, still glowing, and either he doesn't realize what he just said or he does not care.

"She-" he stops himself, shaking his head like he can't find the right words. "She works harder than anyone. Every problem with this car, she's been on it. I mean, I was nowhere at the start of the season, and now, we're here. If anyone deserves credit, it's her."

The reporter raises an eyebrow. "That's very high praise. Would you say she's been a crucial part of your season?"

Max tips his head back in his laughter, and it's so obvious now, the way he's still running on instinct, how he's still in the moment.

"She's been-" He stops, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. And then, softer-too soft for someone who's just talking about an engineer-he finishes:

"She's everything."

The interviewer's eyes widen slightly, and there’s a second-just a second-where you see the exact moment he realizes what he just let slip. Max's lips press together, like maybe if he stops talking now, the words will somehow erase themselves. But the damage is already done.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

Max turns his head like he can see you in the garage. He's searching, looking for you.

You panic. You run.

But the world has already heard him. You're not just another engineer.

You're Max Verstappen's everything.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The second you step back into the Red Bull garage, cheeks flushed from your bathroom pacing and breakdown, you know you're screwed.

The looks. The whispers. The way people pretend not to be staring but are absolutely staring. Because, of course, everyone saw the interview.

The moment Max Verstappen, three-time world champion, winner of the race, decided to open his mouth and say-

"She's everything."

You could kill him.

Scratch that. You will kill him.

Your heart is still hammering from the moment you heard it, from the way he looked for you afterward, like he wasn't even the slightest bit embarrassed about saying something that made it sound like-like-you don't even know what it sounded like, but it was definitely not normal driver-engineer talk.

And now, here you are, trying to avoid eye contact with every single person in the garage while searching for the idiot responsible.

It doesn't take long.

Max, being Max, doesn't bother hiding. He's standing by the monitors, still in his fireproofs, arms crossed over his chest, looking completely unbothered. He should be celebrating. Why is he not out celebrating?

He's still waiting for you.

The moment he sees you, his expression shifts. Something smug, something amused, something that makes you want to strangle him.

You grab his arm and yank him into the nearest private space you can find.

"Max," you hiss, barely able to contain yourself. "What the hell was that?"

His brows furrow. "What?"

"What?" you repeat. "You-on live television-you called me everything."

Max blinks, looking so utterly relaxed that you want to shake him. "Yeah."

You stare at him, waiting for him to realize the problem, to acknowledge that he just threw you to the media wolves with zero warning.

Nothing. Just calm, slightly confused Max Verstappen.

"You do realize what that sounded like, right?" You press, feeling your face heat up. "Everyone's losing their minds. Twitter is exploding. Horner gave me a look. Do you know how scary it is when Christian Horner gives you a look?"

Max’s lips twitch. He's fighting a smirk and he's not winning. "I mean… was I wrong?"

"What?"

He tilts his head, like he's considering his words. "You are everything. To this team. To the car. To-" He stops himself, but it’s already too late.

He knows exactly what he said.

"Max-"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

You can't, because he isn't. Maybe you've known it all along. Maybe this is why you can't leave the stupid team, even though it's causing hair loss and severe lack of sleep.

So you don't. Instead, you grab him by the collar and pull him down. Max lets out the softest, most relieved exhale before he crashes into you.

It's not a soft kiss. It's not careful, or hesitant, or anything close to restrained. It's desperate. It's months of tension snapping all at once.

You make a soft noise-half surprise, half something else entirely-and that's all it takes.

Max groans, deep and low, like he's wanted this for as long as you have, and suddenly it's worse, because now he's tilting his head, deepening the kiss, pressing you back until you hit the nearest surface.

You don't even know where you are anymore. A storage closet? A backroom? It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is him. The way he tastes like champagne and adrenaline, the way he kisses like he races. All-consuming and with only one thing on his mind.

You should stop. You know you should stop. The entire garage is just outside. Someone will notice. Someone will hear.

You thread your fingers into his hair, tugging just slightly, and Max shudders.

"Fuck," he mutters against your lips, utterly wrecked. His eyelids flutter, long lashes too. Max runs a finger down to your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You're overthinking again."

He's completely right. But you don't stop then. You relax and just let Max Verstappen take over every single thought in your mind.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: i just need a man who's bad at emotions but also so good at them

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

NFL Honors

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Rockstar!Reader

Summary: The NFL Honors ceremony had always been a spectacle, but tonight. Tonight, all eyes were on them. For months, there had been whispers. Sideline glances. Shared exits. Paparazzi catching them “coincidentally” at the same places. But neither of them had confirmed anything. Not after the season started. Not after the break-in. Not after Joe’s frustrating year on the field. But tonight, there was no denying it.

She stepped onto the red carpet, wearing a sleek, black floor-length dress that hugged her figure perfectly—classic, effortless, but stunning.

And beside her?

Joe Burrow.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, hand resting comfortably on her waist, walking like he wasn’t single-handedly sending the internet into flames.

Reporters were scrambling to adjust their questions. Cameras flashed wildly. Fans lost their minds.

Joe leaned in, murmuring just for her.

"You ready for this?"

She smirked, squeezing his hand. "Are you?"

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. "Not even a little."

By the time they reached the interview section, reporters were barely containing their excitement.

Interviewer: "Joe, [Y/N]—is this your way of confirming the rumors?"

Joe, completely unfazed: "I think the rumors confirmed themselves."

She laughed, tilting her head. "But if you need it spelled out—yeah, we’re here together."

The internet? Exploded.

Hailee Steinfeld, already at the event, sprinted across the carpet the second she saw them.

"OH MY GOD, FINALLY."

Joe sighed, shaking his head. "Here we go."

Hailee grabbed her by the wrist, beaming. "You don’t understand—I have been holding this secret in for MONTHS."

She rolled her eyes. "You literally told me to wait for the perfect moment."

Hailee grinned. "Yeah, but I didn’t think it would take this long."

Joe smirked. "She wanted to keep the mystery alive."

Hailee turned to the cameras, gesturing to them dramatically. "Well, mystery’s dead. They’re a thing. This is real. You're welcome."

Joe laughed, pulling her closer. "Guess there’s no going back now."

She grinned, looking up at him. "Nope."

NFL Memes (@NFL_Memes): “JOE BURROW JUST CASUALLY SHOWED UP WITH HIS GIRL LIKE IT WASN’T THE BIGGEST DEAL EVER.”

PopCultureBuzz: “HAILEE STEINFELD BREAKING HER SILENCE LIKE SHE WAS A HOSTAGE TO THIS SECRET.”

ESPN: “Joe Burrow’s biggest win of the season? Making it official.”

The moment Joe’s name was called for Comeback Player of the Year, the entire room erupted in applause.

She turned to him, smiling proudly, squeezing his hand before he stood up.

“Go get your award, Burrow.”

Joe smirked. “You gonna be here when I get back?”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

Joe leaned down just slightly, brushing his lips against her cheek before heading to the stage.

The cameras caught everything.

Joe stood at the mic, taking a second to compose himself before speaking.

“Man… this is an honor.”

He went on to thank his coaches, teammates, trainers, the fans, the people who helped him grind through the tough season.

And then?

His eyes flickered toward where she was sitting.

“And, uh… one more person I gotta thank.”

She froze.

The audience leaned in.

Joe smirked just slightly. “She knows who she is.”

The room erupted in murmurs and laughter.

She shook her head, covering her face as Hailee smacked her arm, grinning.

Joe just chuckled, clearing his throat. “Anyway… let’s get ready for next season.”

NFL Memes (@NFL_Memes): “JOE BURROW GAVE HER A SHOUTOUT IN HIS SPEECH AND JUST LEFT US TO GUESS???”

PopCultureBuzz: “‘She knows who she is’—JOE BE SO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.”

ESPN: “Joe Burrow keeps winning. On and off the field.”

She barely had time to process what just happened before she felt strong arms wrap around her waist.

Joe.

“You good?” he murmured against her hair.

She turned in his arms, poking his chest. “Seriously? She knows who she is?”

Joe smirked. “You did, didn’t you?”

She huffed, biting back a smile. “I hate you.”

Joe just leaned in, whispering against her lips. “No, you don’t.”

And with that, he kissed her.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism: "No thank you! I have a partner!"

Silly. G/N. Y'all probably seen the meme. Your partner comes home drunk and doesn't recognise you. Masterlists

Gun Park, Ryuhei Kuroda, Goo Kim, DG, Vin Jin, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo

Loud scratching and thumps at your front door wakes you. You wonder whether to arm yourself with a frying pan and then you hear your boyfriend muttering slurred profanities.

A loud bang reverberates through your home as he stumbles, drunk, through the door.

With a sigh, you crawl out of bed to check the state they're in.

Gun gazes at you, bleary-eyed and half focused. Slightly swaying on his feet, a very unusual sight of someone usually in full control of their body.

Then something clicks in his brain, eyes hardening just before he looks away. He tells you, tone disinterested, that he's a taken man.

"I don't know how I ended up here, but don't get the wrong idea."

He turns around, exits his own living room, exits his own home, and sleeps outside the apartment in the hallway instead.

.

.

"Yeah you're pretty cute," Ryuhei mumbles, words slurring together, "But my partner is cuter."

He pulls his phone out, drops it twice, unlocks it on the third attempt and shows you a picture - one that you have seen, actually one that you took of him smooching you on the cheek.

"Aren't they cute?" He beams, utterly besotted. "Let me just crash here," he says as he collapses on the sofa. "If you touch me I'll scream."

.

.

"Get your hands off me!" Goo screeches, slapping you away as you try to undress him and get him ready for bed. "My my, you're forward aren't you?"

Goo leans forward and gives you a smile halfway between utterly charming and complete sleazeball.

Then, all bravado evaporates and he sighs.

"Oh sweetheart you would be just my type, but," he pushes you off the bed, "I'm taken and very happy about it."

He lies down, burritoing himself and turning his back to you. "You can make your own way out."

.

.

Vin fiddles with his sunglasses, peering approvingly at you.

Even in his drunken haze he can tell that damn, you're fine. Except. He is also lucid enough to realise he is not looking respectfully anymore and he thinks of you, his ride or die, and his face completely changes.

He frowns and asks you what the hell you are looking at. That you have no chance. He has a partner at home that is much hotter, much better, thank you very much and yeah he's an asshole but he's not going to cheat so back the fuck off.

You roll your eyes, hackles would have been much higher if he wasn't actually being sweet in his own way.

.

.

DG takes a moment to process the situation. And when he does, he gets it completely wrong.

He plasters on his k-pop smile. The one reserved for winning over fans, interviewers and for his insincere apology videos.

"Did you want an autograph?" He pulls out a photocard from his inner pocket and a pen (and wow, you did not realise he carried a stack of his photos. You are not going to let him live this down) and scribbles his signature that comes with some love hearts and sparkles and passes it over to you.

"Here you go," he holds it out to you in both hands, not before mumbling under his breath, "You're cute but shit if you turn into another stalker..."

.

.

Jake is already asleep on the sofa by the time you pad out, which must be some super power in itself.

"Wake up," You give his shoulder a shake. He frowns, then cracks one eye open. "Come to bed."

He grunts something indecipherable and attempts to roll his oversized frame on your undersized sofa.

"Jake, cmon."

You start to drag him to your bedroom, your touch finally waking something inside and he bolts upright, removing your hands firmly off him.

"I have a partner." He tells you with no room for any misinterpretation. "But," he scratches absentmindedly at his stomach, "Do you have any food?"

.

.

Samuel does as he's told. Obediently removing his trousers, and unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off-

(Truly, you had no ulterior motive, you just wanted to remove the stink of alcohol.)

When, maybe for the first time in his life, he is afflicted with modesty and a startling clarity.

He yanks his shirt back on and pulls his trousers on with surprisingly sober efficiency.

"Absolutely not," he glowers at you, "This is not happening. I'm taken."

[flowerfreya]

Repercussions

The next part in the office AU

Masterlist

Content: Readers ex boyfriend tries to win her back( does not go well ) and then she discovers she has a crush on all four of them *gasp*

Pairing : poly!141 x reader

If have any thing you want to see from this group of people, please let me know. Lowkey running out of ideas lol

Price, Soap, and Ghost stand in front of the room where you were just taken. “She’s just trying to get attention”, he shifts his gaze to Price, “You know what I mean?”, he raises his eyebrows in a know what I mean motion. 

Price is not amused ,“No, I don't know what you mean”.

“Maybe you need to take a walk”, Soap says. He tries to guide him to entrance but your ex is  a glutton for punishment. 

“No,she a bitch, she used me as a gold digger”,he spits out, waving his arms and yelling and honestly embarrassing himself. 

“Mate, you need gold in order for that to happen”, Simon is trying to move him away from the door but he is very persistent. 

“You take another step it will be your last in this building” 

He slowly turns around, “You can’t do that, there's a process”, he smirks, thinking that he’s won. 

“Oh I know the process, we have been doing the process”, he lists all the things that your ex-boyfriend has been doing or in this case, not doing. 

Price has always had a problem with your ex boyfriend, they hired him on a whim and they needed a body. They had hoped that he would have no call , no show and they could help him but alas , he very very sadly persisted. He started fucking up almost four months ago, showing up late leaving early , taking long lunches. Price had finally found his in. He’s been putting in the work with Kyle to fire him, that when he brought you in for an interview. 

Price knew that men like him , took out his frustration on the women in his life because that's just the man he is. So he put a pause on it, you didn’t deserve that. When he got that call from Simon that you had called asking for help he knew that it was a sign.

~ 

Your ex is still moaning and bitching about you, then he says something that makes you not care. 

“Oh shut the fuck up” , you yell at him and walking out the backroom. He’s shocked that you responded, you're usually very passive in this , thinking it’s easy to agree then to argue. He starts stuttering, not used to this from you. 

“Uh -u -u -u” , you mock him. You get close to him so tired of just taking it. You’re so done with him. 

“Nothing to say?” , you ask him. He looks around like one of your guys are going to help but he finds none. 

“Can you do me favor and just fucking go?” ,you're so pissed that you let yourself get to this level, this sad sad place, where knowing that you need better, that you deserve better but just staying. Settling. 

He tries to change tactics with you, “Baby, please you know that I’m sorry, I messed up please forgive me”, he gets tears in the corner of his eyes. 

You scoff, “You know you caused this , you decided to leave me here and be a jerk when I asked you to pick me up”, you pause and wait for him to respond and he has nothing to say. 

“We are done, over, never getting back together, wrap your brain around that”. 

He tries to say something else but John cuts him off and leads( pushes) him toward the exit. 

Once he’s out the door, you kind of deflate when you no longer see him. Kye places his hand on your shoulder, “Alright?”, you want to go home and curl into a ball and drink dessert wine still your stomach hurts. 

“Can I go home?”, you don’t make eye contact with him even though you know that he is trying to connect with you. You can’t do life today and being with all of them today is going to be too much. You are single for the first time in a very long time and you have a crush on your boss ... .and coworker ... .and your other coworker… and your HR rep. How do you go from hating your only romantic partner to having a crush on four people? 

[cheralith]

— red curtains.

mikage reo, nagi seishiro — there is something sinister about your interview process. (wc: 1.0k)

cw : gn!reader, no pronouns used, cannibalism!au, implied cannibalism, slight blood, not really a lot of romance here lol just suspense a/n : reonagi backstory finally woooo who cheered

an-all consuming desire masterlist

Four have entered, none have come out.

At least that's from what you've been observing. In the wake of the hall in which you wait in where five total interviewees once remained, there are three people—you and two security guards standing in front of two doors leading to the office of where you'll do your interview. The double doors are tall and heavy, just as intimidating as the atmosphere you've attempted to grow accustomed to for the past few minutes—to no avail have your attemps worked.

It's strange—all of this. From the application page, to the mysterious number that called you to an interview, to the sudden relocation of where the interview will be held... and now this. Something is just off about this entire supposed secretary job for one of the most powerful companies in the country, but you can't place your finger on it, only going by a gut-feeling of impending doom rooting from somewhere you don't know. Maybe this was a part of the process—to see if you can withstand the daunt of Mikage Corp.

Because unless there happens to be another exit from inside the office, you find it strange how the tall woman—Ba-ya, if you can recall—just simply invites another person in without letting the previous exit. This eeriness about the way she curls her finger towards the next possible contender feels like she's reeling them like bait, almost.

The door opens again. You sit straight up. Ba-ya pokes her head out, scans the area, then lands on you, her smile widening in a way the pit in your stomach deepen.

"Next."

Her stare almost seems to puppeteer you, because you get up without any sudden resistance with your papers in hand and walk towards and through the large brown doors. You can only pass a dry swallow as you pass through the barrier.

The office is a little dark, lit by a couple of overhead lights with some lamps here and there. The window that views the skyline of the city veils it from view from a transluscent grey curtain, dimming the area and making you squint to properly see your surroundings.

There is also no other doors in sight aside from the ones you came in.

This is not a place of invitation but rather intimidation.

"Reo-sama," Ba-ya says, gesturing towards you and says your name as an introduction. "Your last interviewee."

And there, sitting behind the desk seated politely in the middle of the room, is the head of Mikage Corporation himself—Mikage Reo himself.

He's dressed in a crisp black button-up, a silvery watch on his wrist as he rests his chin between folded hands. There's this supple smile on his face when you look at him, artificially sweet. He sits behind his desk so still, as though he was just in waiting.

"Hi there," he greets and motioning to the two chairs in front of his dark oak desk. "Take a seat."

You nod stiffly, going to situate yourself down on the cold leather that you dare not let your back touch. He shakes your hand, his palm feeling colder than the leather you sit on, making a chill go down your spine almost.

Something is most definitely off.

"Give me one moment," Reo says, shuffling some files about to search for something on his desk. "Just... trying to find your file, hm..."

You stay quiet with thin lips, apprehensive to offer your replica of your resume you've submitted beforehand. The courage gathers in you after a few moments of Reo humming and pursing his lips, but the moment you're about to say something, Reo lifts his head up.

"Nagi!" he calls over to a corner of the room suddenly, one that's darker than most, despite the office itself being darkened already. "I think you forgot to collect the fifth file! Can you check if it's over there somewhere?!"

Someone sounds out something in the dark corner of the room that you see when you creak your head towards it is some sort of “entrance” to somewhere with thick red velvet curtains in replace of doors. You see them move a bit, before a tall, white-headed man dressed atypically in only jeans and a black hoodie reveals himself from behind it, carrying a manila folder.

And amidst the ivory paleness of his skin—is a streak of something red near his mouth.

It’s small but regardless, it just adds to the strangeness of everything. For whatever reason, you don’t feel like you should pry at it.

"Is it this?" 'Nagi' asks lethargically as he walks closer, waving the folder about.

"Yes, yes," Reo remarks contently, taking it from his grasp and almost admiring the strange man that stands out between you, Reo, and Ba-ya with the casuality of his attire. He tilts his head, squinting, before brushing a finger near the corner of his mouth.

Nagi blinks slowly at him, before deciphering what Reo is implying.

"Oh..." he murmurs, taking his hoodie sleeve and wiping away at the red streak near his lips, it vanishing from view. "... is it gone?"

Reo nods with a grin and turns toward you, straightening your file on his table. "All good. You can go back to eating lunch now."

Nagi hums again, taking one look at you in a curious, sleepy manner, before he stalks back behind the red curtain.

You could've sworn you saw something wavering in his eyes... but then again, this is a dark office, after all. Your mind could've been playing tricks on you.

"Sorry, don't mind him," Reo gives a soft chuckle, one that you think is genuinely amused. "He's my... assistant, you could say."

There's a film of falsity and hesitation when Reo says that, but you figure you're in no position to be questioning him, especially with where you are right now. So you just tightly smile and stay quiet.

Reo scans your resume for a bit, eyes glistening with something bright as his smile continues to grow as he continues to read your rather impressive work history. If this were any given normal scenario, one where your nerves weren't constantly on edge, you'd mimick his grin and thinking that you're leaning towards an approval of sorts—but there's something almost eerily eager about the way the head of the mysterious Mikage Corp stretches his smile.

He lifts his head up towards you, almost eagerly so. You fight to fidget under his stare.

"Well then," Reo says, "shall we get started?"

[samgirl98]

A Dip and A Slip 5/6

Prev | Next

Danny was about to punch the crazy lady who claimed to be his mother and make a run for it. He had texted his parents an SOS and was sure that, given their reckless driving and complete disregard for human life, including their own, they would arrive soon with the Fenton Speeder.

It wasn’t soon enough.

“Talia, you have to think about this,” Bruce Wayne whispered to the crazy woman. Danny would be in the dark if it weren’t for his superhuman hearing. “He doesn’t live in our world and has a normal life. He won’t understand why you’re doing this or how we know about him so quickly.”

“I don’t care! He’s my son—mine. Now that he’s back to me, I won’t let him go.”

“Ok, do we make a run for it and hope your parents find us?” Mr. Manson asked. They may not like Danny much, but they wouldn’t let some random stranger take him. Besides, the Fentons would kill them for letting anything happen to their son.

“Wait, I know this is hard to believe, and she went about it the wrong way, but mother isn’t lying. You’re my brother, my twin!”

“Okay, say you’re telling the truth. Why should it matter? Danny already has parents,” Sam said with a scowl on her face, “You drop this bombshell on him without going through the legal process, and that lady is talking about kidnapping Danny.”

The police were interviewing everyone who hadn’t run. Red Robin and Nightwing watched the spectacle as if it were a good sports match, keeping a watchful eye on the tied-up agents waiting to be arrested.

“Listen, if what you’re saying is true, how would you know I’m your missing twin brother?”

“I took a DNA test,” Damian said, crossing his arms.

“You stole my DNA and had it tested without my permission?” Danny asked angrily.

Damian had the decency to look remorseful.

“I had to make sure,” he tried to defend himself.

“How did you even get the results so quickly?” Sam asked.

“Family secret,” Damian said through gritted teeth.

“Ancients, all billionaires are the same. You guys have a secret lab in your basement, don’t you?” Danny asked.

Danny noticed how Red Robin, Nightwing, and Damian all tensed subtly. Danny probably wouldn't have noticed if it weren’t for his super senses. Danny threw his arms up in defeat.

“Of course, of course, I have another billionaire Fruit Loop now looking into me. You’re all insane, and I want to have no part of this ‘family’ reunion.”

Danny didn’t think but reacted when a hand touched his shoulder. He grabbed the wrist and flipped the person over him, sending them flying.

It was the crazy lady.

“Mother!”

Damian ran up to his mom and helped her to her feet. Bruce Wayne looked at Danny with a calculating expression.

“Beloved, I don’t think our son is a regular civilian,” Crazy Lady said calmly while getting up.

“We can talk about this later, Talia.”

“Well, Mr. Wayne, as fun as this has been, it’s best we leave,” Mrs. Manson said while Mr. Manson herded the two teenagers toward the exit.

Crazy Lady flipped over Mrs. Manson and stopped Mr. Manson from advancing further. All for Amityville natives tensed. Crazy Lady was blocking the exit.

“Talia,” Bruce barked out, “Stop this.”

Police officers and the remaining guests watched the drama unfold. The two vigilantes tried to redirect their attention by getting the agents up and marching them toward the police vehicles outside.

Damian was between his twin and his mother, for once, not knowing what to do.

Somehow, Nightwing and Red Robin managed to clear the room, leaving only Danny, the Mansons, Crazy Lady, and Damian behind. Danny tensed when Crazy Lady moved, her arms wide open.

Mr. and Mrs. Manson got in front of Danny and Sam, shielding them from Crazy Lady’s eyes.

“Please, Habibi, please. I’m your mother. The pit took you away from me before I was even able to name you. I want my son back.”

Danny felt a little for the woman as tears started trailing down her cheeks. Damn it. He hated seeing people cry.

“Listen, I feel for you, I do, but I have parents, a sister, a family, already. I can’t just take your word for it that I’m your son, and you miraculously found me after years of searching. I need proof. I need to talk to my parents. I can’t give up my life and follow you.”

“He’s right, Talia,” Bruce whispered in a soft tone. “He has a life. We can do this differently. We need to take DNA tests and talk with his parents. We can’t kidnap him.”

Crazy Lady—no, Talia shook her head and looked straight at Danny.

“You’re my son, my little prince taken away from me.”

Danny sighed inwardly. He wanted to go home and forget the day had ever happened.

A crash sounded outside, and Danny heard the GIW yelling out his parents’ names in fear.

 Danny sighed, resigned to the chaos that was bound to happen.

“Who dares think they can take my baby boy from me?” His mom yelled out with a high-pitched whine following her question.

“Yeah, nobody messes with the Fentons.”

Talia got on the defensive and ran toward his mom, ready to attack.

Fuck.

[iphyslitterator]

https://www.tumblr.com/iphyslitterator/781529944758091776/fascinating-phenomenon-that-the-buddie-fandom-is?source=share

My theory: the buddie fandom members are more inclined to reject (and even to rebel) against something that they don't agree with (or causes them pain) and are willing to believe in any sign that may indicate that what they want is in fact happening, even if it's against all logic; while the BT fandom members seem more grounded in reality, recognizing what's happening and being able to accept it (which doesn't mean they can't manifest their disagreement), despite the pain said reality may cause.

is this an age thing (buddies skewing younger and BTs skewing older)? a cultural thing (religious background / education / literacy levels)?

I'm intrigued by this.

Yeah, I've been thinking along these lines, i.e. that it's about the dominant modes of reading in each fandom.

The most prominent Buddie shippers believe Buddie's going canon, and that involves a lot of reading between the lines: the show is sending you subtle messages, the signs are obvious to the skilled ("media literate") interpreter, of course they wouldn't spoil things in interviews. The gifset of alleged season 8 foreshadowing for Bobby's return fits right into that - attention and close reading are supposed to reveal the hidden truth.

I love the point about the tendency to reject/rebel against canon, which is linked to an investment in canon: this thing that you want isn't happening onscreen, and that's unacceptable, so therefore it will, it has to (and it's so important for it to happen, there may be no way to convince you that it won't).

Whereas the Bucktommy fandom did the exact opposite in the wake of the breakup: we both accepted canon and distanced ourselves from it. Even as more people got more hopeful for a reconciliation, our main project in the hiatus was to solidify into a fandom that could survive without the show. At the same time - and it wasn't immediately clear this would happen - we started heavily incorporating 8x06 material into our readings. The prevailing characterization of Tommy shifted significantly. We dive deep into their communication issues. We hated the episode, but we decided to take a lot of it at face value and turn it into a "better" story.

To avoid the "grounded in reality" value judgment for a minute, I'd say the Bucktommy fandom leans more pessimistic. Believing in the Buddie long game requires optimism, faith that the show is intentional and patient. Bucktommy fans are more likely to express cynicism about Tim Minear and distrust in the show; taking the text at face value/arguing that the show "isn't subtle," even if accurate, is related to the general post-breakup wariness. (It's also related to having a canon ship - we never had to excavate it, it was happening onscreen.)

Of course the Bucktommy fandom has also already coped with the sudden loss of a beloved character; a lot of us were processing a lot of grief in November, and I think even the people who were clowning early reconciled themselves to the possibility he wouldn't come back. The irony is that we were wrong, and Tommy did return! But the experience still primed a lot of us to start grieving Bobby and coming to terms with his death quickly. (It's also ironic that we're taking the press at face value, but the Peter farewell tour is so much more extensive than the Lou "exit interviews" that believing it seems like the smart/realistic/pessimistic thing to do.)

I'm unwilling to generalize about demographics without hard data, and I think we overinterpret the age thing. There are plenty of younger Bucktommy fans, and plenty of older fans with the reactions or behavior people sneer at as juvenile. I'd tentatively say the fact that many of our most prominent writers are late 30s or older has shaped the fic landscape, and the unusually high percentage of queer men has influenced the culture. But whether this has any bearing on the Bobby alive vs. dead debate, I couldn't say.

[originalcrime]

honestly though would never have processed that as a “writing him off the show” scene if it weren’t for the exit interviews which is. um. interesting

[slyscoutess]

I'm going to be taking advantage of the trailer for Senna's new miniseries to explain a subject that Brazil has been talking about for years, and that I think is important to share, so as not to have disagreements with the somewhat uncertain future of the script made for the miniseries.

Explaining why many Senna fans don't like Xuxa, a great artist and his most famous ex.

All the information in this was taken and translated from a thread, which was taken from several public interviews and also from stories that we have been told about Senna since we were little, so I may forget some details!

the release of the trailer for the Netflix series “SENNA” has revived the debate about how Senna’s relationship with Xuxa is portrayed in the media. Firstly, it is important to know that they had a public relationship between 1988 and 1990 (we don't know for sure) their relationship was very well regarded by the media and by the pilot's family, after the end the two continued to be “friends” publicly for more 2 years

In 1993 Ayrton began dating Adriane Galisteu, which according to some articles irritated the pilot's family, as in addition to liking Xuxa a lot (who was already famous and rich at that time), they thought that his current girlfriend might have had her eye on his money. Shortly after the beginning of Senna and Galisteu's relationship, there were some interviews with the singer Xuxa, saying that Ayrton had cut off contact with her because of his new girlfriend, clearly with the intention of being welcomed by the public as the “poor thing” in the situation.

[ TRANSLATION: after the funeral, Galisteu's relationship with Xuxa, however, was shaken. The presenter and pilot dated for approximately one year and eight months and continued to meet for more two years after they broke up. Then Senna started dating Galisteu and "cut contacts" ]

After the fateful accident, which unfortunately ended up taking the great Brazilian idol, Senna's family continued to exclude Galisteu and support Xuxa, which led many fans to side with the model since she had just lost her boyfriend and was without any support.

[ TRANSLATION 1: Family members welcomed the queen of little kids with open arms, but they did not hug Galisteu. At the time, one of the last in the procession reported - Xuxa was if the car Adriane was in was in the second car, just behind the car that carried Senna's body. ]

[ TRANSLATION 2: Crying a lot, Galisteu said that the two of them were having a great time in their relationship, that she was very much in love and had no idea what she was going to do with her life. "I think I'm living a nightmare and I'm going to wake up. There are moments when I'm strong, aware of everything, and others when I'm totally out of my mind. And I suddenly find myself completely alone, because I lost my boyfriend", said the model. "I wanted to go back in time two days to do something and stop everything ," she added. "But for me he was untouchable, he always came out well of accidents.” ]

[ TRANSLATION 3: When Adriane arrived at the burial site, there were only two empty chairs left, both next to Xuxa. She sat to the right of the presenter. The two spent two "long" minutes without even looking at each other, until someone offered Xuxa a seat next to Leonardo Senna, the driver's brother. ]

It is also worth mentioning that many of Senna's friends stated that he said that Galisteu was the love of his life and that he wanted to build a family with the model. However, Xuxa continued going after the pilot to try to get back together while he was still with the model.

[ TRANSLATION 1 : Then, according to the report, the presenter got into the family car, accompanied by Ayrton's sister, Viviane Senna, and left with them, while Galisteu had to walk to the exit of the cemetery and board a bus reserved for guests. For the journalists covering the burial, there was a clear impression that Adriane had not received the consideration that the three-time world champion himself had been giving his girlfriend. ]

[ TRANSLATION 2: Journalist Lemyr Martins, author of the book "A Star Called Senna", said, in a BBC documentary, that Galisteu was Senna's great love and "could have been the mother of his children", if it weren't for accident that killed the athlete in Italy. However, there are also theories of that Xuxa and Sena had talked about day before the accident and would have decided to resume the relationship. ]

[ TRANSLATION 3: In 1993, Senna opened up about the relationship that lives with Galisteus: "I'm very happy. [...] Having a life. As we Brazilian (pilots), traveling the world with Formula 1, we deserve, sometimes, to take a little calm and share our life with a special woman", he stated. ]

Okay love, but what's up? Why is there so much antipathy between Xuxa and motorsport fans? The reality is, the reason is that she used a lot of the driver's image to promote herself even after the accident, in addition to trying to force that SHE was the great love of his life, it is worth mentioning that the rumors that they had talked before the race were initiated, and are remembered, by her and her alone, with a video and/or interview talking year after year about a supposed connection they both had, always pretending to be a repentant widow, and Senna had two love affairs before Galisteu, after da Xuxa. Even after 30 years she still continues to share their INTIMATE moments, which in my opinion is totally disrespectful to Ayrton

She is known for wanting to convey the image of an “inconsolable widow” to this day, which is an image that doesn't work very well in Brazil, especially those who follow the interviews with Ayrton's friends, and Adriane herself, who leave It's very clear the pure love they felt for each other, as Adriane was the love of his life, he wanted to form his family with her, and one of Ayrton's biggest dreams was to be a father, so he could understand that he wanted to fulfill this dream about her says a lot about his love for her

apparently the Senna series will show this Xuxa character as a “widow” figure for Ayrton, especially because here we know that Adriane was not called to help in any way regarding her moments with him during the development of the series, to be clearer , she thought the character's name wouldn't be hers, she thought they would make her a fictional character.

Unlike Xuxa, Galisteu's interviews are rarely trying to “get back into the media” using Senna's name, as well as being very elegant when mentioning all of the presenter's “stories”.

“butterfly path, my 405 days alongside Ayrton Senna” by Adriane Galisteu

Adriane received an offer to be a Grid Girl at the 1993 Brazilian Grand Prix. She didn't like the idea, because she didn't care about F1, but she ended up agreeing as it was a good proposal. The first meeting with Senna took place on Saturday, during a social event at the Shell hospitality center, but they did not interact. On race Sunday, during the pitwalk, she was approached near the McLaren pits "I'm Ayrton Senna's private affairs advisor. He asked me to get his phone number." She passed and continued her work. She, who initially didn't like racing, found herself cheering madly for the Brazilian to win the race. And he won!

During the celebration given by Shell, all the grid girls came to him to congratulate him. She congratulated him and he asked her to celebrate with him. She refused. He called her the next day and asked her out. She refused again. He invited her to a party. She got a puncture and didn't go AGAIN hahaha

HE ENDED UP AT HER AGENCY OUT OF NOWHERE, everyone was euphoric.

They met at his house and arranged to go to Angra. They went in a helicopter piloted by Senna himself. She says that those days were extremely happy, she talks about her first kiss and the many walks on the beach and diving with her dog Kinda. Still on that same trip, he invented that there was a problem in the room she was in and took her to another "It's my room. Now it's yours too. Make yourself comfortable", From then on, they never let go!

She was introduced into F1, as his girlfriend, at the Monaco GP. She received a private lesson on all the characteristics of the track and was introduced to Berger, Braguinha, Rubinho, Betise, Galvão. He won the race and said it was for her. Upon returning from that incredible trip he says:

"Please don't ever change. If I had to ask you for something, it would be to be exactly who you are. You just don't need to drink so much Coca-Cola, go to so many McDonald's and, seriously, I think you should study English"

Already in Brazil, Dri was looking for a used car to buy. Then on a date that wouldn't be anything special, he surprises her with a brand new silver Uno. The car was full of flowers. On the plate a special detail: "DRI7770". She still has this car today.

Another cute episode was one time they got into an argument over an interview she gave to a magazine. To apologize later, he surprises her:

"Have you been to the bank yet?”

He gave a beautiful interview about how much he loved her, he even gave images of the two of them to Caras magazine.

"One day, I'm going to marry you. And one day I'm going to race in a Ferrari. Even if the Ferrari car drives as fast as a beetle car, I want to be there at my last start, my last lap, my last checkout - I dreamed. - Ferrari is the mystique of Formula 1"

Many say that this relationship made Senna a happier man. That Galisteus made him much happier and lighter.

Words from one of the most important people in the pilot's life, Braguinha: “Ayrton was sad and she made him happier”

The book tells this and much more.

It was such a cute story that it seems like fanfic. Dri moved on with her life, but she always carries this important part with her. She says that she would never want her story to be disconnected from his, that she has the honor of being Senna's ex.

For those who like these behind-the-scenes things, it's worth reading! There are so many more stories there!

I admire Adriane Galisteu so much

She was so young and had to deal with so much. I saw some interviews that were clearly rude to her and she never lost her class!

April 30, 1994

"I have a lot to tell you. To propose to you. To offer you - he continued. I must be there at 8:30 pm, or so. I want to spend the night awake. Let's talk until dawn. I want to convince you that I am, by the way, the best man of your life"

Sempre Senna.

[azaharinflames]

https://www.tumblr.com/azaharinflames/780568231788380160/ive-been-thinking-a-lot-about-buck-and-tommy-and

Have to agree with your response to this anon. I get why BTs or even non-shippers who just enjoy canon are reeling. This season has been filled with questionable choices on the part of Tim and it is hard to trust the process when the journey has been stupid. Still, we know Lou is coming back, Buck has mentioned Tommy more in since the break up than when they were happily dating, and both Tim & OS basically said that they would have their issues. Most importantly, we are quick to talk about the lack of media literacy on the part of the BoBs while failing to follow one simple rule: be mindful of who is saying something. The only people who said that Tommy was gone for good and that was an “exit interview” were BoB journalists. We already know that most of what they say is false or fueled by delusion and yet we choose to believe that???? Sure it is possible that Tim will drop the ball on this but my guess is the plan was always to get them back together but he wanted to create drama and didn’t have any better ideas of how to do so than what we got.

Couldn't agree more, Nonnie.

I'll go blue in the face saying this (and I will eat my words if it turns out I was wrong), but more and more I'm starting to be convinced that this was, in part, a test. And I know that's what we said at first (to cope, let's be real), but honestly? I don't think we were entirely wrong. Because, if anything, this has shown Tim that we do care about Bucktommy. And, something even more important - it's shown Tim that he can give them drama, and people will actually give a shit about it (in ways they haven't done with any of Buck's past LIs).

Tim and Oliver have said in the past how they want the relationship to have their issues (gen), how they don't want a relationship to always be in a state of content (paraphrasing). Oliver went on to say he did like the aspect of will they won't they at a time when he had already shot 806. I think a lot of us forget about that fun tidbit. And if he hadn't fully shot it, he at least was aware of what was coming. We had our warnings, as much as we didn't see them, and now we just have to see if the result is good for us. But it's not crazy to think it has a possibility of being good.

And yes, the journalists are a big part of the problem (and I use journalists extremely lightly). The 'exit' interview, MG claiming Lou was gone for good and that if he came back it wouldn't be as Buck's LI (love how that has aged, btw)... we all took it too seriously. But we're talking about the same people who live to bait the buddies. Who saw the kitchen scene between Maddie and Buck in 811 and tried to spin it in Buddie's favor, even when that was the show shutting it down. Hell, MG downright tried to twist RG's own words, from his own interview. I think we'd all be much happier if we just stopped paying any attention to them (and I know that's hard, but. It's not like they deserve our attention, anyway)

Overall - heavily agree with you, Nonnie, and I'm glad you agree with me, too!