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f1byjessie · 8 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part three.

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yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡

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mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡

↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin

↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n

↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming

user missing these lads so much lately

user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭

user the f1 drought is real rn

user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024

↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤

user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?

↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀

↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???

user what a fake ass bitch

user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away

user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤

user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett

user SLUT SLUT SLUT

user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr

↳ user same omg

↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌

↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄

↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list

user oh… these comments… 😰

↳ user right???

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yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉

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mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵

mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025

↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔

user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett

user god when does she go back to f1??

↳ user march iirc

↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc

user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU

user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are

user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut

↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her

user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.

user kys like genuinely

user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒

“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”

It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.

You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.

It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━

You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.

You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.

That’s what they tell all the athletes.

What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.

Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.

You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.

When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.

The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”

Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.

Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.

In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.

An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.

You just feel alone.

Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.

You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.

“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”

He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”

You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.

You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”

“And things with Ward?”

You purse your lips.

“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”

You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.

If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.

“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”

You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.

You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”

When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.

“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”

All you can do is nod.

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yourusername there’s no place like home

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry

━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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inthedoghousern · 8 months

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i'd have to think about it

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: it seemed like it was meant to be, but things don't always work out. too bad you might still be in love with each other. inspired by "i'd have to think about it" by leith ross.

contains: childhood friends to lovers, fluffy stuff, angsty stuff, cursing, reunions, breakups, proposals, pregnancy (is it drs? maybe not...) there's a lot.

5.2k words

a/n: sorry it's been a minute, school distracts me from the truly important things in life (this acc).

18 years old

"Danny," you whisper into the dark guest room. You weren't sure if he was asleep, you hope he wasn't. "Danny," you whisper again, slightly louder. You can hear blankets shuffling.

"What?" you hear him groan.

"Are you awake?"

"Now I am," he answers, annoyance in his voice.

There's a bit of light filling the room from the moon outside, and your eyes finally adjust to the darkness. You can make out Danny in the bed, he sits up looking towards you.

"Good, come on," you whisper still standing at the door. You're trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking up the rest of the house.

The two of your families had been close your whole life. You and Daniel were only one year apart, which meant that the two of you were always paired up. Over the years you became inseparable, and the dynamic between your families only got stronger. Your families were always on vacations together, at the race track to support Danny, staying at each other's houses for a few days for a change of scenery. This weekend was one of those instances.

You peek your head into the hallway, making sure there's no light from under any of the bedroom doors, the last thing you wanted was to wake up your parents, Danny's, or any of the siblings.

"Why? What time is it?" He rubs his eyes.

"Danny, come on!" you whisper-yell, getting impatient.

"Ok ok." He finally surrenders and gets up. He trails behind you as you quietly make your way through the house. At the door, you slip on your flip-flops and Danny follows suit.

You open the door and lead the two of you away and down the suburb street. After you're a good distance away from the house, Daniel finally speaks again, "Where are we going?"

"The beach," you answer plainly, still walking and looking ahead. You lived just a few minutes away from the shore.

"Okay... and we're going because?" Daniel asks. He's confused why you've dragged him out of bed and are cryptically answering his question.

You turn and look at him, "You're leaving in a few hours. I wanted to hang out!" you answer, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back and shakes his head. "Why didn't you just ask before we went to sleep? Like a 'hey Danny, let's sneak out later, ok?'" He grins. "You let me get comfortable."

You laugh, "Sorry, I couldn't sleep and just decided in the moment."

"It's alright, I guess," he teases as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

The two of you walk in step with each other the rest of the way. A comfortable silence between you, only the sound of your flip-flops slapping on the pavement and the rustling of the trees around you. The March air is cool on your bare legs, but you're both in hoodies and don't really mind the temperature. As you get closer to the beach, the crashing of the waves also fills the silence.

When you get to the beach, you kick off your shoes and walk to the edge of the water. It's quiet as the two of you watch the waves roll over your feet.

"Are you excited?" you ask breaking the silence.

"Yeah, I really am," he answers.

In a few days Daniel was leaving for the start of his racing season, he was going to be all around the world for the next few months. This year was an even bigger deal than normal, as last year he was selected to drive with the Red Bull Junior Team, so this was his first year with them.

You look down as you lightly kick around the sand with your feet.

"I'm going to miss you, you know," you say in a playful tone, but you really do mean it.

"Hey, I'm back in August." He nudges you with his shoulder and ducks his head slightly to try and meet your eyes.

You look up from the sand and at him, "I'm leaving in August before you get back, remember?" You give a small smile. He wasn't the only one traveling this year, you'd graduated from school in December and decided to go to an American university. So your first semester started in August.

"Oh, right." Daniel looks out at the water again with a small frown.

A silence falls over the two of you again. You just listen to the steady rhythm of the waves crashing.

"It won't be too bad. You're still coming to some of my races, right?" Daniel starts, still looking out. "And when you start school it's not like you're never coming home again," he jokes.

You laugh softly. "True."

It's quiet again as you let your mind wander. It was normal for Danny to be out and about with his racing stuff, but starting school across the world was going to make both your schedules even crazier. But your families always found a way to spend time together. It would work out. You really hope it would.

You're ripped out of your thoughts when you feel Daniel grab you and throw you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" you yell in surprise. He laughs and starts walking deeper into the water, and you know what he's going to try and do.

"Don't you dare... oh my god, put me down!" You're squirming and hitting him, trying to save yourself.

"Put you down?" You stop fighting and simply rest your head on his back when you've realized your fatal error. "Sure!" he answers happily.

And with that, he throws you off into the water. You're completely submerged for a moment and then come back up to the surface. Daniel stands in front of you, a smile plastered across his face. You push your now wet hair out of your face and stand up too. The water is up to your mid-thigh at this point.

"Really?" You splash water at him.

Daniel just laughs in response and turns slightly in a weak attempt to avoid the water.

You splash more water at him and he does the same back. His clothes are progressively becoming more wet but it's nothing compared to how drenched you are.

As you go to splash him again, Danny grabs both of your wrists and holds them in front of you. He starts pushing you back and the water is rising to your waist.

You push back, trying not to get dunked again. In a fit of giggles, the two of you struggle against each other.

Danny slips a little bit and you take your chance, pushing him hard. But his grip on you is still strong, and as he tumbles backward into the water, you go right down with him.

When the two of you come up to the surface you're both laughing hysterically. Daniel lets go of you and you move back slightly, you're floating in the shallow water facing each other.

"This is your fault," you joke. You're smiling so hard that your cheeks are starting to hurt.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he smiles just as hard back.

The water isn't deep, but you and Daniel stay submerged up to your shoulders. You don't know what else to say, and it seems like Daniel doesn't either, the two of you just look at each other. Both of your smiles relax a bit, and you notice Danny's eyes flicker down to your lips and back to your eyes. You feel your stomach drop a little. You're probably seeing things.

He swims even closer to you, a lazy smile still on his lips. You lightly push his face to the side, your heart beating fast. What was he doing?

He slowly looks back at you. "I'm going to miss you too."

"I'd hope so," you answer teasingly. You're trying to ignore how he's looking at you.

"Yeah?" He counters with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Yeah."

It's quiet again and you just look at each other. The way your heart is beating out of your chest is just too much. You break your eyes away from him and stand up, making your way to the shore.

Daniel lingers for a moment, watching you, but eventually, he gets up and follows.

Your wet clothes are heavy as you make your way across the beach to your shoes. As you pick up your flip-flops, you feel Daniel come up beside you, grabbing his shoes too. Neither of you put them on, and instead, just hold them at your sides as you leave the beach.

There's a certain amount of tension between you two as you walk back to the house. You can't describe it, and honestly, you're not even sure if it's just in your head or not. But you can't help but feel your stomach doing flips as you walk side by side down the street.

As you're walking, Danny starts to veer towards the side, walking into you. His side hits yours, and you laugh a bit as he gets you off balance. He keeps doing this and you run forward to escape him.

You turn to look at him behind you, walking backward down the street. A grin is back on his face, and on yours too.

You throw one of your flip-flops at him, and it hits him in the leg. It's not a hard throw by any means, but shock spreads over Danny's face at your assault.

He grabs the flip-flop and throws it back at you, but you dodge it. He still has two more shoes though.

When he launches the next one, you're not prepared and it connects with your arm.

The next moments are filled with you and Danny throwing shoes at each other and running around the empty road like maniacs.

There are still no words exchanged between the two of you, just laughter and the slap of flip-flops against your wet sweatshirts, bare skin, and the pavement.

You wanted the street to stretch on endlessly. You didn't want to get to the house because you knew that the moment would be over. It would've made it a reality that Daniel was leaving soon and so were you.

But unfortunately, the street had its limits. You and Daniel walked into the house and quietly made it back to your respective rooms. You said your goodnights. After the sun rose in the next few hours, Daniel and his family packed their stuff into the car. You two said your goodbyes.

You weren't able to go to any of his races that season. He didn't get back before you left for university.

You only came back for winter break that school year. Your families saw each other once.

When your summer vacation came around and you were back in Australia, Daniel was already gone.

This cycle repeated for the next three years. He invited you to races. You couldn't make it. You invited him to your graduation. He couldn't make it.

The frequent phone calls got difficult with time zones, so your communication turned exclusively to texting. Eventually, those slowed down too.

You watched each other's lives in pictures. Forgetting what the other's voice sounded like in person. But you never forgot how much you cared for him, and he never forgot how much he loved you...

24 years old

"Danny!" You call out across the lobby of the Monaco hotel. He turns and flashes you one of his signature smiles. You hadn't seen it in what felt like ages.

He walks over and you two embrace in a tight hug.

You pull apart and his hands are on your shoulders as he looks down at you. "I'm so glad you're here," he says.

"Me too!" You respond with just as much enthusiasm.

The past few weeks you and Daniel had been talking more frequently, finally trying to coordinate seeing each other again. You were both in luck when the days leading up to the Monaco Grand Prix, as well as the race weekend, fit into your schedule.

For a moment you're just smiling at each other, taking in one another's presence. A long overdue reunion. "Let's go, yeah?" He asks.

You nod and the two of you leave the hotel, ready to start making up lost time.

For the rest of the day, you two are attached at the hip. It was nice you got to spend so much time together before all of his racing and media obligations.

You're smiling to yourself now as the evening breeze dances lightly through the narrow streets of Monaco. You and Daniel stroll side by side, relishing in the familiarity of each other's company.

The city lights cast a warm glow upon the cobblestone pathways, and laughter and chatter spill from the restaurants, blending with the soft melody of distant music. It's a picturesque scene, one that perfectly reflects this moment shared between two old friends reconnecting.

"You know," Danny says, breaking the silence, "I should've kissed you that night."

You glance at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What?"

"On the beach," he clarifies. "I know you remember." He laughs slightly.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head in disbelief. "I can't believe you're bringing that up now."

"But I'm serious," he insists, his tone playful yet earnest. "It might just haunt me."

"Haunt you?" you echo, unable to suppress a smile at his confession.

Danny shrugs, his expression turning thoughtful. "Yeah, I mean... I've been thinking about it, seeing you again and everything. Wondering what could've been if I had just taken the chance."

You pause, the weight of his words sinking in. Despite the casual atmosphere, there was an underlying tension, a silent acknowledgment of the unsaid feelings lingering between you.

"I guess we'll never know," you say finally.

Danny nods. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"I have missed this though," Danny continues, his voice softer now, "Just being with you, like old times."

You smile. "Me too."

Daniel wraps his arm around your shoulder, and the air is filled with a comfortable silence as you continue your stroll back to the hotel. Despite the passing of time and the unspoken words hanging in the air, there was a sense of ease in your companionship, a familiarity that went beyond any tension.

Lost in your thoughts, you steal glances at Danny, noting the way the lights danced across his features, casting a soft glow on his easy smile. Memories continue to flood back in your mind, intertwining with the present moment. You recall the laughter you've shared, the secrets whispered, and the countless hours spent together. But now it seems like you've spent just as many hours apart.

Lost in reflection, you barely notice when Danny's arm falls from your shoulder and he stops walking.

You stop too, turning to face him, confusion on your face. "What's up?"

He meets your eyes, his expression unreadable for a moment before he takes a deep breath as if steeling himself. "I know I shouldn't bring this up now, especially after all this time, but…"

Your heart skips a beat, anticipation and a tinge of anxiety rising in you.

He looks down for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before meeting your eyes again. "...I never stopped thinking about you, you know. Even after all these years, even when we were apart."

You feel a rush of emotions within you, "Danny…"

"I know it's complicated, and I don't expect anything from you. I just needed to say it, to let you know."

You're taken aback by his confession, you feel surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of something you dare not name. For years, you've kept your feelings tucked away, buried beneath the weight of missed opportunities.

You don't speak, but you can feel a small smile start to tug at the corners of your lips.

You laugh a bit, shaking your head, and step closer to him. You're amused by just how much time the two of you have wasted.

He smiles back.

Neither of you have to say anything. The expression in your eyes and the ease with which your arms wrap around his neck and his hands find your hips say enough.

You feel his warm breath against your lips as he leans in closer, closing the gap between you. The world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment, suspended in time.

It's a gentle yet passionate kiss, filled with years of longing and of the realization that perhaps fate had brought you back together for a reason.

After that reconnection, you two didn't waste any time. It felt as though the universe had conspired to bring you back together, and you weren't about to question its timing.

You officially started dating soon after, diving headfirst into a relationship that felt both exhilarating and comforting.

Years flew by in a blur of shared laughter, quiet moments, and unforgettable adventures. You celebrated milestones together, from anniversaries to Daniel's achievements in racing, always by each other's side through thick and thin.

You couldn't be happier. Your families couldn't be happier. Even the fans couldn't be happier. Childhood best friends to lovers. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. For a while it really was.

32 years old

"What do you think?" Daniel holds a ring in between the two of you. It wasn't some over-the-top gesture, he didn't get down on one knee; he knew you wouldn't want that.

So tonight he brought up the question, he asked if you would marry him.

"Daniel, I..." you trail off uncertainty in your voice. You look at the ring and then back up at him.

Daniel feels a lump form in his throat. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting. What made it worse was the seriousness in your voice.

"What's wrong?" His brows furrow.

"What does the future look like after this?"

He should've known you were going to ask this. You two were lucky in that your relationship had little tension. You rarely fought, even after the many years spent together. But there was one point of contention, even more so lately: Family. Kids.

During the first few years of dating, you two were always pestered about marriage and kids. Then, the two of you said it wasn't the right time. There was no rush to get married, to start a family. Not back then. But it's been eight years and now you're the one who's been trying to bring up the topic. You certainly didn't need a diamond ring from Daniel to cement your relationship, but starting a family with him was something you wanted. But Daniel was never as clear in what he wanted.

"You really want to get into this right now?" He sounds a little annoyed.

"We need to talk about this. I can't ever get a straight answer out of you." You start while shaking your head. "I'm ready to settle, Daniel. Soon. And I can't tell if you want that too. I want to start a family and I want that to be with you, but every time we try and talk about this we just put it aside for another day."

"Baby..." he trails off, his hand holding the ring falling to his side.

You cross your arms over your chest. "No, I'm serious. You know we don't have forever to decide this."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me where you see us after this. Is it still just racing?"

"We do both," he says.

"I don't want that. I know it's not fair to you, for me to ask this. But I don't want to do it alone. I can't."

He takes a step closer, "You wouldn't be alone."

"No Daniel, I would. It's inevitable."

You're right. He could try his best, but there was no way he could be there every step of the way while starting a family. Racing was just too demanding and time-consuming.

"Are you seriously doing this to me?" his voice cracks.

"I'm sorry," you choke out. "I love you so much okay? But tell me the solution to this. I'm not going to ask you to stop racing." You've been with him through his whole career, you know how much work he's put in. How much he loves it. And you know he's not ready to stop yet.

He runs his hands over his face. It was an impossible decision. A gut-wrenching situation. But Daniel's stomach drops because he knows you're right.

"So what? We're breaking up right now?" His voice is laced with anger.

"Don't be like that." You're hurt by his tone.

"Be like what? We've been together for almost eight years and you want to end it just like that. I just asked you to fucking marry me!"

"Eight years of me following you, Daniel! My life has revolved around wherever you have to be, where you have to race. And that's fine, I didn't complain because it wasn't all bad. And I love you so what did it matter? But I'm tired of it Daniel."

He doesn't say anything and the two of you just look at each other.

Finally, Daniel speaks, "So this is it?"

You bite the inside of your lip. It seemed like Daniel made a decision, you weren't surprised by it, but it still hurt. Racing was his everything.

"I guess so."

Daniel runs his hands through his hair and turns away from you.

"What a waste of time," he mutters.

You feel your brain go numb and you can't believe what you've just heard. This wasn't easy for you. You weren't happy about it either, not one bit.

Before the two of you got together, you didn't even want to start a family. But eventually, that changed, and when you became a mom you wanted it to be with him, it was supposed to be with him.

"Are you fucking serious?" You snap back at him.

"What else would you call this? It's been nearly a decade."

"So none of it even matters anymore? You can be mad at me, but what the fuck is wrong with you." You're awestruck at how he is handling this situation.

"What the fuck is wrong with me? You're the one making me choose between you and my career." He answers angrily.

"And you chose."

"I guess I did."

You knew that you would love again. But the months after you and Daniel broke up were difficult. The two of you didn't talk at all. You coordinated move-out technicalities through friends and family members. Any trace of one another on your social media was wiped clean, which was nearly your whole account considering you'd been together so long. Plus the fans and media did not take the situation lightly. Your comments were always filled with things about him, and vice versa on his accounts.

But eventually, things slowed down.

You just left social media altogether and started a quieter life in Australia, without him. Eventually, you met someone and you started to make amends with the situation. You moved on. Your new boyfriend is a gentleman. And soon he became fiancé, then husband. And you're content.

Daniel focused on racing. He avoided the ongoing questions about you from the media, from his team, the rest of the grid. He avoided the silence in his drivers room without you in it. He avoided the empty space next to him as he traveled the world. But eventually, he moved on too. The late-night drinks over you turned into drinks with friends. He knew he could be content again too...

37 years old

Daniel could feel a wave of anxiety wash over him as he walked up the front stairs of your childhood home. He hadn't been here in years. He hadn't seen you in years. For the last few family events, you and Daniel were never there at once. He'd go to one, you'd skip, the next one, you'd go and he'd skip.

But it's been five years since you broke up. It's been five years and he knows you've gotten married. He hasn't met your husband. He knows you've had a kid. He hasn't met your daughter.

It's been five years and your families have gotten sick of walking on eggshells around the two of you. Especially since it seems like both of you have moved on. So they put their foot down and said you both had to come.

Daniel walks into the house and is welcomed by the familiar sight of both your family members bustling around, preparing for the gathering. There's a mix of nostalgia and apprehension within him as he scans the room, searching for a familiar face.

"Daniel!" Your mother's voice cuts through the chatter, and he turns to see her approaching him with a warm smile. "It's been too long. How have you been?"

He manages a small smile in return, "I've been good, thank you. How about you?"

As they engage in small talk, Daniel can't help but steal glances around the room, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipates seeing you again. He wonders if you're here yet, if you're as nervous as he is about this encounter.

"Oh, come here!" your mother calls out, beckoning a man that Daniel doesn't recognize. Daniel's heart sinks as your mother introduces your husband. Daniel extends a hand, forcing a polite smile as he greets him.

"It's nice to meet you," Daniel says, trying to ignore the knot of jealousy tightening in his chest.

Your husband offers a friendly smile in return, shaking Daniel's hand firmly. "Likewise, Daniel. She's told me so much about you."

Daniel's smile feels strained now, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. He can't help but feel like an outsider in this moment, a silent witness to the life you've built without him.

"Speaking of her," your husband says as he looks around the room, "she might be in the backyard."

Daniel nods, his heart sinking even further at the mention of you. He forces himself to maintain his composure, offering a polite nod to your husband before excusing himself from the conversation.

As he makes his way through the house, Daniel can feel the weight of the past five years pressing down on him. He wonders what he'll say to you, how he'll navigate seeing you after all this time.

Daniel freezes as he catches sight of you in the backyard, playing with a little girl who bears a striking resemblance to you. His heart skips a beat at the sight, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. He hadn't expected to be hit with such a strong reminder of the life he could've had with you.

You look up and notice him standing there, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as your eyes meet. There's a flicker of recognition, a hint of surprise.

"Hey Daniel," you say, your voice soft.

"Hi," he responds.

There's a brief pause, a silent acknowledgment of the years that have passed, the wounds that have healed, and the memories that still linger.

As you stand up, Daniel notices the slight baby bump under your dress.

"Congratulations," he manages to say, his voice laced with genuine warmth despite the turmoil he's starting to feel. "I didn't know that you were expecting."

You offer him a small smile in return, a mixture of gratitude and sadness shining in your eyes. "Yeah, I'm only a few weeks along."

There's a heavy silence between you, you both struggle to find the right thing to say.

You pick your daughter up and rest her on your hip, walking closer to Daniel.

"Can you say hi?" you ask her with a smile.

The little girl looks at Daniel with wide eyes, seemingly studying him for a moment before offering a wave.

"Hi," she says with a smile.

"She just turned two," you say, looking between her and Daniel.

Your daughter nods, still smiling.

Your husband comes out to the backyard, and you excuse yourself from Daniel for a moment.

"Here," he says grabbing your daughter from you. "Time for us to hang out, little lady," he says to her and then gives you a small smile. You return it and he goes back into the house, giving you and Daniel a moment to yourselves.

Daniel watches silently as your husband takes your daughter, feeling a pang of envy at the easy familiarity between the two of them. He knows he shouldn't feel this way, that it's irrational and unfair, but he can't help the twinge of jealousy that gnaws at him.

As you turn back to face him, there's a tense silence between you, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

"How are you?" he asks softly.

You glance away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before meeting his gaze again. "I've been good, thank you," you reply, your voice steady.

Daniel nods. "I'm glad to hear that."

"How are you?" you ask. "Racing seems like it's going well."

"Yeah, I'm loving it. It was shifty for a while, but I'm happy with how everything is going," he answers with a slight smile.

"That's great." You two sit down on the porch steps.

Side by side, legs slightly pressed against each other, it was a position you two had been in countless times. In this exact spot. But obviously, things were different now. So different.

There's a tension between you but despite it all, there's a flicker of something in your eyes, a hint of warmth and familiarity that draws him in.

"I'm sorry," Daniel says suddenly. "For everything."

You meet his gaze, your expression softening at his words. "Daniel..."

"What I said then. That it was a waste of time," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity. "It wasn't. Whether you were my girlfriend, or just best friend. Those years really did mean a lot to me."

You feel a rush of emotions within you, a mixture of sadness, regret, and longing.

"They meant a lot to me too," you admit.

You both struggle to find the right thing to say, the right way to bridge the gap that has grown between you over the years.

"I know it's too late for us," Daniel says softly, breaking the silence. "But I just needed you to know."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you fight to hold back tears. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

You hate that you still feel this way about him. That it's been years and you have a new life, your own family. You're the one who wanted this. You're the one who left.

But Daniel sits next to you and your mind wanders to what could be different.

He's here at your childhood home. Your family, your kid, your husband just inside.

But in all honestly, if Daniel asked you to leave to be with him and split.

Well, you'd at least have to think about it.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #dr3 #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #danny ric #Spotify

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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months

Text

The real AI fight

Tonight (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Last week's spectacular OpenAI soap-opera hijacked the attention of millions of normal, productive people and nonsensually crammed them full of the fine details of the debate between "Effective Altruism" (doomers) and "Effective Accelerationism" (AKA e/acc), a genuinely absurd debate that was allegedly at the center of the drama.

Very broadly speaking: the Effective Altruists are doomers, who believe that Large Language Models (AKA "spicy autocomplete") will someday become so advanced that it could wake up and annihilate or enslave the human race. To prevent this, we need to employ "AI Safety" – measures that will turn superintelligence into a servant or a partner, nor an adversary.

Contrast this with the Effective Accelerationists, who also believe that LLMs will someday become superintelligences with the potential to annihilate or enslave humanity – but they nevertheless advocate for faster AI development, with fewer "safety" measures, in order to produce an "upward spiral" in the "techno-capital machine."

Once-and-future OpenAI CEO Altman is said to be an accelerationists who was forced out of the company by the Altruists, who were subsequently bested, ousted, and replaced by Larry fucking Summers. This, we're told, is the ideological battle over AI: should cautiously progress our LLMs into superintelligences with safety in mind, or go full speed ahead and trust to market forces to tame and harness the superintelligences to come?

This "AI debate" is pretty stupid, proceeding as it does from the foregone conclusion that adding compute power and data to the next-word-predictor program will eventually create a conscious being, which will then inevitably become a superbeing. This is a proposition akin to the idea that if we keep breeding faster and faster horses, we'll get a locomotive:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

As Molly White writes, this isn't much of a debate. The "two sides" of this debate are as similar as Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Yes, they're arrayed against each other in battle, so furious with each other that they're tearing their hair out. But for people who don't take any of this mystical nonsense about spontaneous consciousness arising from applied statistics seriously, these two sides are nearly indistinguishable, sharing as they do this extremely weird belief. The fact that they've split into warring factions on its particulars is less important than their unified belief in the certain coming of the paperclip-maximizing apocalypse:

https://newsletter.mollywhite.net/p/effective-obfuscation

White points out that there's another, much more distinct side in this AI debate – as different and distant from Dee and Dum as a Beamish Boy and a Jabberwork. This is the side of AI Ethics – the side that worries about "today’s issues of ghost labor, algorithmic bias, and erosion of the rights of artists and others." As White says, shifting the debate to existential risk from a future, hypothetical superintelligence "is incredibly convenient for the powerful individuals and companies who stand to profit from AI."

After all, both sides plan to make money selling AI tools to corporations, whose track record in deploying algorithmic "decision support" systems and other AI-based automation is pretty poor – like the claims-evaluation engine that Cigna uses to deny insurance claims:

https://www.propublica.org/article/cigna-pxdx-medical-health-insurance-rejection-claims

On a graph that plots the various positions on AI, the two groups of weirdos who disagree about how to create the inevitable superintelligence are effectively standing on the same spot, and the people who worry about the actual way that AI harms actual people right now are about a million miles away from that spot.

There's that old programmer joke, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand binary and those who don't." But of course, that joke could just as well be, "There are 10 kinds of people, those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't understand either":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/11/the-ten-types-of-people/

What's more, the joke could be, "there are 10 kinds of people, those who understand hexadecenary, those who understand pentadecenary, those who understand tetradecenary [und so weiter] those who understand ternary, those who understand binary, and those who don't." That is to say, a "polarized" debate often has people who hold positions so far from the ones everyone is talking about that those belligerents' concerns are basically indistinguishable from one another.

The act of identifying these distant positions is a radical opening up of possibilities. Take the indigenous philosopher chief Red Jacket's response to the Christian missionaries who sought permission to proselytize to Red Jacket's people:

https://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5790/

Red Jacket's whole rebuttal is a superb dunk, but it gets especially interesting where he points to the sectarian differences among Christians as evidence against the missionary's claim to having a single true faith, and in favor of the idea that his own people's traditional faith could be co-equal among Christian doctrines.

The split that White identifies isn't a split about whether AI tools can be useful. Plenty of us AI skeptics are happy to stipulate that there are good uses for AI. For example, I'm 100% in favor of the Human Rights Data Analysis Group using an LLM to classify and extract information from the Innocence Project New Orleans' wrongful conviction case files:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

Automating "extracting officer information from documents – specifically, the officer's name and the role the officer played in the wrongful conviction" was a key step to freeing innocent people from prison, and an LLM allowed HRDAG – a tiny, cash-strapped, excellent nonprofit – to make a giant leap forward in a vital project. I'm a donor to HRDAG and you should donate to them too:

https://hrdag.networkforgood.com/

Good data-analysis is key to addressing many of our thorniest, most pressing problems. As Ben Goldacre recounts in his inaugural Oxford lecture, it is both possible and desirable to build ethical, privacy-preserving systems for analyzing the most sensitive personal data (NHS patient records) that yield scores of solid, ground-breaking medical and scientific insights:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-eaV8SWdjQ

The difference between this kind of work – HRDAG's exoneration work and Goldacre's medical research – and the approach that OpenAI and its competitors take boils down to how they treat humans. The former treats all humans as worthy of respect and consideration. The latter treats humans as instruments – for profit in the short term, and for creating a hypothetical superintelligence in the (very) long term.

As Terry Pratchett's Granny Weatherwax reminds us, this is the root of all sin: "sin is when you treat people like things":

https://brer-powerofbabel.blogspot.com/2009/02/granny-weatherwax-on-sin-favorite.html

So much of the criticism of AI misses this distinction – instead, this criticism starts by accepting the self-serving marketing claim of the "AI safety" crowd – that their software is on the verge of becoming self-aware, and is thus valuable, a good investment, and a good product to purchase. This is Lee Vinsel's "Criti-Hype": "taking press releases from startups and covering them with hellscapes":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

Criti-hype and AI were made for each other. Emily M Bender is a tireless cataloger of criti-hypeists, like the newspaper reporters who breathlessly repeat " completely unsubstantiated claims (marketing)…sourced to Altman":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464030855880383

Bender, like White, is at pains to point out that the real debate isn't doomers vs accelerationists. That's just "billionaires throwing money at the hope of bringing about the speculative fiction stories they grew up reading – and philosophers and others feeling important by dressing these same silly ideas up in fancy words":

https://dair-community.social/@emilymbender/111464024432217299

All of this is just a distraction from real and important scientific questions about how (and whether) to make automation tools that steer clear of Granny Weatherwax's sin of "treating people like things." Bender – a computational linguist – isn't a reactionary who hates automation for its own sake. On Mystery AI Hype Theater 3000 – the excellent podcast she co-hosts with Alex Hanna – there is a machine-generated transcript:

https://www.buzzsprout.com/2126417

There is a serious, meaty debate to be had about the costs and possibilities of different forms of automation. But the superintelligence true-believers and their criti-hyping critics keep dragging us away from these important questions and into fanciful and pointless discussions of whether and how to appease the godlike computers we will create when we disassemble the solar system and turn it into computronium.

The question of machine intelligence isn't intrinsically unserious. As a materialist, I believe that whatever makes me "me" is the result of the physics and chemistry of processes inside and around my body. My disbelief in the existence of a soul means that I'm prepared to think that it might be possible for something made by humans to replicate something like whatever process makes me "me."

Ironically, the AI doomers and accelerationists claim that they, too, are materialists – and that's why they're so consumed with the idea of machine superintelligence. But it's precisely because I'm a materialist that I understand these hypotheticals about self-aware software are less important and less urgent than the material lives of people today.

It's because I'm a materialist that my primary concerns about AI are things like the climate impact of AI data-centers and the human impact of biased, opaque, incompetent and unfit algorithmic systems – not science fiction-inspired, self-induced panics over the human race being enslaved by our robot overlords.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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spitefulfemme · 5 months

Text

i love being cared for and spoiled just as much as the next lesbian, but it's so important to do the same for the other person in the relationship.

helping them out when they've had a bad day, give them a shoulder to cry on or a neck to hide their face in, reassure them that they'll be ok no matter how much the world feels like it's crashing down on just them and them alone. or if they're not that much into physical touch, just lending an ear helps. even if you can't give them great advice, just being there and letting them get their bad day off their chest says a lot, and it means even more. and some people don't like to talk about their bad days. that's ok too. sometimes it's just space that they need but sometimes they just need to be distracted from their bad day. indulge in some of their favorite hobbies with them, watch a comfort show/movie of their's, cook them their favorite meal.

remembering the little things and doing them just because. adding in small details that you've remembered they hold so dear to their heart for whatever reason. it always feels good to know you're actually being listened to.

can we pls normalize femmes paying for stuff? just a little bit???? please queens/kings????? listen guys, i'm not complaining if you want to take care of me financially, i am a broke bitch! but WHEN i do have money, (not very often😞) at least let me buy you some ice cream with it or SOMETHIN'- PLEASE! i know ice cream isn't a super big responsibility but it's always felt weird to me seeing the relationship dynamic where one person supports themselves and their partner financially, and the partner doesn't even reciprocate it occasionally???? THIS IS NOT ME DEMONIZING THIS LIL DYNAMIC OR WTV, i just personally do not vibe with it. but do whatever makes you happy, bbgs. i know there are other ways of taking care of someone other than supporting them financially but i'd love to even be able to do it just once in a while, if not all the time. (all the time is not likely bcs once again i can't save money for shit....)

i know i mentioned this for like five seconds in my first or second lil paragraph but cooking is such a reassuring thing to do. cooking someone their favourite meal or just any meal is a love language that we look past too often and i am sick of it!!!!! (this is coming from someone who tried to make homeade hamburger helper with burrito beef two nights ago btw... don't look at me.) it's such a quiet way of love admittance. but then genuineness is there and it's abundant. mostly if your partner is of culture, i bet that would be an amazing and quite heartwarming surprise for them to see. (meow:3)

i could go on and on and on about reciprocity but it's 2am and i don't feel like writing anymore...

⁻ this post was made by a minor, mdni accs dni!

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mgnifique-tion · 7 months

Text

— human reaction.

summary || ``you’re starting to wonder if attending work after your day-off was a mistake.``

pairing: 2012!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: tesseract - cix (p.s. check out seunghun on build-up rn!) lowercase is intended… part: 1/?

— themes and warning/s: open-ended, enemies to potential lovers (for sure, they will be lovers soon), NOT a stand-alone one shot ;) wink wink, bossy loki, y/n being somewhat a dumb human being (heroism)

— a/n: hi! back with another loki au this march and guys, this is not a phase– IT’S NOT A PHASE, MOM! (corny? i graduated with that course in the university of the cornyology – i’m not even done with g12 lmfao wtf am i saying) anywho, i miss him. i literally rewatched the avengers for him and i'm not even active w the mcu anymore. i actually have a lot of other pending drafts from my main acc (@mgnifiqueyoo - follow me there :3) and so many unfinished IMPORTANT work from real life but like i thought of a line and now, i just HAVE to write it or it's outta my head so here u go. lmao. enjoy!

[ total words: 1.9k ]

support me on ko-fi! ☕

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“... oh my god.”

that was all you could mutter under your breath the moment you saw the rest of your co-workers controlled by that thing the alien held in his palm. you didn’t show up to work yesterday since you were just taking the final steps in finishing that project of yours.

what was the project? the hypercryogenic station.

and now, after a long day of ignoring your texts and calls, you ended up going to work, which happened to be a terrible idea. better yet, a horrible mistake. “... excuse me?” you took small steps, nearing the towering male as he just stood still, not facing you. all of your friends were doing his commands without any questions and you knew that clint barton would never do any of this!

but he did anyway. and you had to know why.

“what did you do with them?” you asked, demanding for answers as you heard him let out an almost inaudible chuckle only to be followed by a deep, low snicker. the alien slowly turned around and looked you straight in the eye, sweat pouring down his face with a sharp glare while his teeth ground against each other.

he was just terrifying, how else could you leave the facility without getting killed?

“oh, is that supposed to matter?” the alien mocked, later glancing at the staff he held before looking back at you, his smirk disappearing little by little. “... you must be horrified, aren’t you?”

of course you were, who wouldn’t be horrified when they see something like this?

but before he could even get closer to you, he suddenly stumbled. that wasn’t something you expected since you assumed that he was a powerful being out of this world after seeing that wardrobe choice but he showed… weakness? it’s hard not to take note of it for future purposes.

you then cleared your throat and asked, “are you okay?”

but he said nothing in return, tense and trembling with every step. he had a maniacal look on his face as if he couldn’t control his actions; he seemed like he was enduring something that was hurting him inside.

and that got you thinking what else was happening with the man in front of you. “so, that’s a no?”

“you’re the expert,” he said, “you’re the one blessed with knowledge over what it is that’s happening to me now.”

you frowned. you definitely had no idea what was going on with him and you were planning on leaving him to himself when he surprisingly grabbed your wrist. “heal me,” he pleaded, breathing in and out rapidly as you felt the burning heat that surrounded his palm, which led to that moment of realization.

“i… i don’t know how–,” you were then cut-off by him tilting his head to the project: the hypercryogenic station. if you ever had a scanner around you, his heat signature would be all over the place because of how high his temperature was. “but the station hasn’t even been tested yet and it could be dangerous for you and for all of us!”

the alien shook his head frantically, not letting any excuses get into his way. “if you don’t help me right now…” his breath hitched as the tip of the scepter was pointed at your chest, right at your heart. “you won’t be living for long.”

and that made you take so many steps, assisting him in the station as you closed the door. “you can’t be in there for more than a minute, it’s highly dangerous and i’m telling you, we haven’t done any tests yet–”

“just begin with the process.” his voice had gotten lower, hoarser with every moment that passed as you felt your heart race quicker. you knew that if you made a mistake, somebody like barton would kill you; there was no way out.

so the gears started running and you watched how the glass windows of the station had fogged up. your life’s work was being used by an unknown entity who took over the minds of your co-workers. your friends.

you couldn’t help but cry silently, biting your nails while you stood a meter away from the finished project. how could a five-year plan get wasted? to this unreadable, tyrannic humanoid? you can’t even breathe well.

and once the process was done, the station’s doors slid apart, creating a path for the man inside. when he stepped out of it, he didn’t even seem affected by it. all normal and human-like as if he had only bathed himself in some snow and not in an actual blizzard.

but colder than his skin was his gaze toward you, the scepter staring back at you as well, watching the way you took a few steps away from him.

“who are you?” you asked, your eyes glued to the scepter rather than his face, which caused him to get agitated.

in return, the tip of the scepter’s blade touched your chin, tilting your head up so that you could look at him. “i am loki of asgard,” he introduced with a deranged grin as you heard the way his breath hitched, overwhelmed and proud with how he spoke to you.

that was enough to make you take another step back but his hand grabbed your arm like a lock, fastened so tightly that it made everything worse for you. “what did you do with them?” you tilted your head to the blue-eyed agents now circling the entire room, which made loki laugh.

he truly was out of his mind.

“i simply used them for a greater purpose,” he said back, letting out another chuckle as the scepter gleamed in response. it was in his complete control… they were all under his control.

how in the world can you run from this?

“let them go.” “oh, we’re getting heroic now, aren’t we?”

he mocked you shamelessly as if it wasn’t your invention that saved him from his visible misery – whatever it was that hurt him earlier.

“... well, i did save you.” you just had to let a bit of sass come out because it was true. however, loki didn’t seem to be fond of that and had read that as entitlement rather than a reminder of who did save him.

nonetheless, he lowered his weapon and laughed once more. “your little saving was merely necessary, mortal. i could’ve used that machine myself.” of course, he disregarded that tiny, little favour you did for him and decided that it’d be best to not even give out a little thank you.

but then, again, what do you expect from an aspiring alien tyrant?

“but you couldn’t because i programmed it for my access only,” you continued the conversation, stating the truth right in front of him. that was your life’s work… you still couldn't believe that it was firstly used by some tall man with a scepter and emerald drapes. “besides, that thing you used wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.”

there was long silence once again… perhaps, even longer than moments of silence you had earlier when your eyes scanned over the rest of the place.

almost the entirety of the facility was led by loki. horrifyingly brainwashed by that scepter.

“fair enough,” he admitted, “but you wouldn’t be breathing if i hadn’t given you the chance.”

“... do you want me to thank you? for this?” “giving thanks means nothing. i need something much more than that.”

you crossed your arms, gulping as you still tried to make yourself seem as if you had the upper hand. an imaginary upper hand, perhaps? although you had put on that mask, loki knew you were afraid of what he could do to you.

if this is only a preview of the damage he’s capable of causing, just how could you survive while being opposed to him?

“i could…” he trailed off, smirking to himself as he circled the station, his palm touching its painted and carved surface while the scepter glowed in his other hand. “hm… i could do the same to you. put your talent to use like the others.”

and you readied yourself, closing your eyes as your once crossed arms dropped to your sides, hopeless and left without a sign of help. “but you have not attacked me once,” he said with a tone of interest, diverting his attention from the opportunity of just controlling you like a mindless servant and rather feeling positive about a different, riskier path. “and you’ve saved me. willingly. no control needed.”

he walked towards you, breathing heavily and letting out a low chuckle. “do you know what gift you have, dr. l/n?” he questioned, expecting you to know the answer as he tilted your head upwards again with the end of the scepter. one wrong push and you could bleed to death; he was being careful with you still.

after all, you were a great addition to his plans.

“humanity, l/n.” he proudly stated, now lowering his weapon as your heart raced. never did you fear death until now, especially when your life would fade to grey without the knowledge of what’ll happen next. to the world and the people around you. “you’ve got so much humanity in you that your best choice was to save a dying god. it’s foolish, l/n. how could you be so brilliant but foolish?–”

“are you done?” you had enough of it, still staring at one corner as you saw how your friend’s eyes still gleamed in blue, manipulated by the god standing right in front of you while the remaining lights of the facility shone over his prepped quiver, ready to attack whenever, however.

and of course, the god of mischief was indeed offended by that. “... you’re so brave, it’s idiotic.” he laughed, shaking his head as if you both had been joking with one another and you felt the heat rush up your head; you didn’t want this. you just wanted your friends to be set free – your world to be set free from this being.

“what do you desire in return?” “for you to stop whatever you’re planning here, my lord.”

even though loki knew you were being sarcastic, he just admired the way it rolled off your tongue. “you do know that does not equate to what you’ve done for me and you might want to do something more for me if you’d want that to happen,” he said, denying your request with a snicker. “but of course, i still appreciated your service earlier so how about i offer you something else?”

he’s cheating, you thought.

“in exchange of your little saving, it’ll be guaranteed that not one of us would lay a finger on you…” he paused, hiding the scepter behind his back as you tilted your head to the side. were you even hearing this correctly? that was too low. “and you would be shielded from any harm as well.”

but can you do anything about it? no. “is that good enough for you, my little savior?”

you had to think about it for longer than a second. why only a second, you may ask? well, does it look like you still have enough time to decide perfectly? the world is at stake; you had to give an answer now or worse destruction could happen.

“fine,” you uttered, firmly extending your hand towards him as he only stared back at your empty, shaking palm. “i’ll do whatever it takes to free this world from you.”

“that’s laughable.” “we’ll see, your majesty.”

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lilyrizzy · 1 year

Text

i thought the dash could use some silly fic but i acc wrote this as a gift for my darling @catofthecanals289. Thank you for being my best friend and supporting me through my terrible masters degree. i love you <;3

“Daniel.”

There’s something about Max’s tone of voice, a cautious sing-song that has Daniel looking up from his book, turning towards him in the bed.

“Max,” he answers, mirroring his pitch.

Between his legs, his dick starts to twitch. Hoping-

Besides him, Max looks- Nervous, but not scared. Kind of the same way he looks right before he shocks Daniel into pleasure, asking for something so kinky that Daniel would never come up with on his own, but doesn’t know how not to want once Max puts it on the table.

There’s a slight pink glow to the top of his cheeks, and Max is chewing at his mouth. Daniel’s eyes get caught there, taking in the way the blood rushes back into his plump bottom lip as his teeth finally let go. Daniel takes off his glasses, letting them clatter onto the bedside table behind, not taking his eyes from Max.

“I think we need to get married.”

Well. Not for that.

“What?” Daniel asks, dragging his gaze up and away from Max’s mouth, to his eyes as he feels his own go wide. “We need to- Max, what?”

Max sighs, putting his own evening entertainment- some horrendous sim live stream playing on his phone- down onto the table too, the one on his side. When he’s done, he just looks at Daniel’s face. Assessing.

“I need to tell you something.” As he says it, he sinks lower into the bed.

So many possibilities run through Daniel’s brain all at once, ranging from the terrifying to the ridiculous, while a noise that sounds suspiciously like TV static starts to ring in his ears. Max being deported from Monaco, police breaking into their apartment to drag him kicking and screaming from their bed in the dead of night. Max signing over some next-of-kin documents in a startlingly white doctors office, Max-

“Baby, what, you’re scaring me,” he croaks, panicked, because Max still hasn’t said anything, hasn't done anything other than look at Daniel with his wide blue eyes.

He just groans, scrubbing a hand over his face roughly.

“Okay,” he relents, as though it’s Daniel who has brought up this topic of conversation- whatever it is about- to begin with, “but you cannot be angry, of course, I did not mean for this to happen.”

For what to happen, Daniel wants to demand, but instead he swallows against the pit of wriggling snakes in his stomach, trying to keep them from crawling up and out of his mouth. Nods.

“I won’t get mad,” he promises because he knows Max will need to hear it, and he hopes that whatever he is about to hear won’t make him a liar.

Max nods, solemn, believing Daniel as easy as always. It soothing, a little. Makes it easier to remember that they love each other. How bad could it be, how-

“Victoria thinks we are getting married.”

The words tumble from Max in one long rush, ends bleeding with the beginnings. For a moment Daniel just blinks at him.

“Is that it?” He asks, when Max doesn’t say anymore. Max scowls at him, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Daniel can’t help the way it draws his eyes there, to where he is so lovely and plush like his mouth, and it only makes Max look madder when he looks back to his face.

“What do you mean, ‘is that it?’” He repeats, “of course it is important if she thinks we are, and then we are not.”

“Max,” Daniel tries, letting out a startled, barking laugh, “I thought you were being sent back to Holland. Or, like, needed a medical next of kin or something, what- Why does Victoria think we are getting married?”

That has the petulant look falling from Max’s face, replaced by something sheepish. Daniel can’t help but grin.

“She, um, she saw,” Max starts, the pink on his cheeks turning to crimson. “In the car, when we drove to the store, of course, for nappies last time she was here with the babies, she- In the glove box. She found the receipt for, your. Your present.”

Takes a moment to click.

“Oh,” Daniel says, thinking about what it must have been like for Victoria, Max’s sister, to find a receipt in the glove box that said “2.5 carat diamond,” with a hefty price tag next to it, for it actually to be- “Oh.”

It’s impossible to keep the giggles contained then, fizzing out from his lips like shaken champagne.

Max picks up the pillow from behind his head and thumps Daniel over the head with it.

“It is not funny,” he insists, voice cracked and high like it always gets when he’s feeling indignant. “Daniel, it- She thinks of course that I brought you an engagement ring.”

Daniel picks up the pillow from Max’s hands and gives Max a thump right back. He’s in a relationship with an idiot.

“And you didn’t just tell her the truth?” Daniel asks. Then, wiggling his eyebrows at Max, “that it was a different kind of jewelery.”

Max snatches the pillow back, shoving it behind his head with an eye roll.

“Oh yes,” he starts, mocking, “when my sister is getting teary eyed, and telling me ‘oh Max, I am so happy for you, you two are so happy together,’ and all of this, to say, ‘actually sorry Victoria, the diamond is for Daniel’s dick.’”

Which- The way Max says dick, it’s just rude.

“Hey!” Daniel protests, covering his dick as though to protect it from Max’s words, “you love my diamond dick. You wouldn’t have dropped 50 bags on it if you didn’t, baby.”

“Yes but I do not need my sister to know this, Daniel.” Max looks at Daniel like he’s grown a second head, or is having a stroke or something. Or like he’s just said he’s going to drive for Williams instead of Alpha Tauri next year. “That is too-“

“So the answer is to get married?” Daniel interrupts with a laugh that sounds a little more hysterical even to his own ears. “Do you even want to get married?”

Daniel doesn’t expect for the way Max’s eyes drop down into his lap then. The way his his fat bottom lip goes right back between his teeth. Fingertips twisting into the duvet covers, Daniel feels like an idiot, because-

“Max,” he says again, gentler, “do you want to get married?”

Max shrugs, still not looking up at him.

“I do not think it would be so bad,” he mumbles, and Daniel has to reach for him then, to tilt his chin up. “To be married, it- Victoria is right, we are happy together.”

Both Verstappen’s are right. They are. Happy in a way that would have felt impossible to Daniel five years ago, if you’d told him he’d be 34 and back driving for Torro-Rosso-come-Alpha-Tauri. A kind of happiness that bloomed from shared podiums and hotel rooms but weathered the storm when everything else fell away.

“We are happy,” he agrees nodding, and because he has to, he leans in and kisses Max. “Happy enough to lock it down, I’d say.”

Max pulls back and looks at him then, uncertain in a way Daniel never wants him to be again, not when it’s about the rest of their lives.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Daniel promises, “though I want a do over, Verstappen, with an even bigger diamond. This was the shittiest proposal ever.”

Max’s laugh, the way he falls into Daniel’s touch, it's all the diamonds, silver and gold in the world.

—

Later, after Max has shown Daniel just how much he appreciates his dick piercing after all, an idea pops into Daniel’s brain.

“Max,” he whispers against the back of his sweaty neck, where Daniel’s nose was pressed because Max is indulging him in cuddling tonight. “Max, what if- I could always leak my nudes to your sister. To save us all the hassle of a wedding.”

It’s a joke, of course. Daniel has already come around the idea of his special day and then a few weeks of bliss on a remote island together somewhere after.

Max sighs.

“Daniel, do not make me divorce you already.”

#this is silly #so please read it with the silly tone in mind #max/daniel #fic

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