#sister jo x female reader

[imaginaryf1shots]

His Sister | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 4.6K

Lewis Hamilton X Verstappen!Reader

Max Verstappen X reader!Sister

Summery: You have always been there for your brother, giving up everything for him, so when you decide to date his rival, what will he do.

Warnings: age gap(age not specified) mention of abuse, Jos Verstappen is an a-hole, Max is also an ass, bad childhood, bad father, cursing, alusion to smut but no actual smut

AN: this had me in tears at some parts, I was going, why did he do this 😭 as if I didn't write it, lol

Hope you all enjoy

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

Part 2

Growing up, Verstappen wasn’t easy. Growing up with Jos Verstappen as your guardian and the one that has custody is hard. Being the oldest, Verstappen is damn near impossible. Could you have chosen to live with your mother? Yes, but that would’ve left Max alone with Jos, something you weren’t about to do. Admittedly you were young yourself, but even at a young age you knew that if Max was left with Jos alone it wouldn’t turn out good for your brother, you’ve always been motherly and have so much love in you that you just shared it with those around you and your siblings got the most of it. It made perfect sense to you as a young girl to leave your life with your mother and sister and go with your brother and father.

At one point you were the one Karting, you loved cars and karting since you were young, with both parents into motorsport it was hard not to, and even Jos couldn’t deny how good you were, but alas you’re a female and there’s no way you’d make it all the way to F1, something that Jos loves to remind you of. That’s the reason he stopped you from going once Max started winning in karting, and he wanted to focus on his child, who would achieve all his personal dreams and make it into F1. Maybe it’s your love for the sport that made it easier but you enjoyed every time you went to a track and watched the karts race, you dreaded after the races though, to Jos anything but first is a failure. On days like that, you’d follow your father and stand in his way, he’d shout at you and push you around, and you’d take it all in all in the hope that by the time he reached Max he wouldn’t be angry, or at least you’d take the blunt end of his anger. That didn’t always happen and on those days you’d just stay with your brother holding his hand, walking with him home in the cold, in the rain and in the heat of the sun, never letting him go through a punishment alone and never letting him go through your punishments.

It was all in the hope that Max would reach F1 one day, and he did, he’s in Formula 1 now, he’s been there since he was 17, he skipped so many steps and jumped into Formula 1, he went from Toro Rosso to RedBull in a record time and he was racing with legends and world champions before you had time to comprehend it. All whilst you watched him from the garage, as a family member and a part of his team, never missing a race. Driving him around when he didn’t have his driver’s licence, hugging him after each win and DNF, picking up the pieces after a scolding from Jos and tearing up when he got his first win. Always smiling and happy for him no matter what.

You’d think now that you’re all older, the talk from your father wouldn’t affect you, that you’d get used to his words, and they won’t affect you. But he’s your dad. It never gets easy.

So here you are standing at the back of the garage you’re both watching the screen, when the camera cuts to you, you smile a bit before it cuts off back to the race, with one pull you’re away from prying eyes of people in the garage. Only the few people at the back could see you.

“What?” You ask your dad with a frown. His grip on your bicep is like iron. You hold in a wince and look him in the eye.

”What was that?” He whisper shouted, you looked at him confused. “Don’t give me that stupid look. How many times have I told you, I don’t like that look.”

”I’m just confused, I don’t know what you mean.” You explain yourself and try to act normal, all while knowing it’s about to get worse, he’s in a mood, Max’s race hasn’t been going like he’d like, he’s currently in second with Checo in first, something bad in your dad’s books.

”Don’t play stupid, I know what you’re playing at.” Jos squeezes more, and you’re bound to have a bruise by tomorrow morning.

“I’m literally doing nothing.” You move trying to pull your arm out of his grip, and he lets go of you but leans down in your face.

”I saw that look you gave the camera, don’t ruin your brother’s image.” You close your eyes and bite your lip, and it takes you a few seconds before you neutralise your expression into blankness. “Don’t look like a slut, it could affect the sponsors.”

”But I wasn’t.” You mutter, but he just scoffs.

”Don’t. Play. Games. With. Me.” With each word through his fretted teeth, he poked/pushed you with his finger at your shoulder, having you move back every time.

”I’m not.” You insist. Thankfully, before he can reply, someone clears their throat, making you both look to the side to see Hemlut standing there. He doesn’t look amused.

”Keep your family affairs out of the garage, please.” Was all he said before he turned to look at the screen. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes, giving your dad one last look you turn and go watch the race from a different spot in the garage as far away from him as you could get.

Max ended up winning the race, with Lewis second and Charles third. So all was good in the end, your brother won the race, your dad was back in his happy mode, and your day was ruined. You rushed with the crowd to congratulate Max on his win. Your brother comes to you for a hug. You kiss his cheek as you always do and pat his back.

”Congratulations Maxie.”

”Thanks.” He gives you a big smile before he’s rushed to get weighed, you look at Ferrari as they congratulate Charles, the sea of red eye catching, looking around you don’t see any Mercedes dressed personal in the vicinity. Your eyes then fell to the 7 times world champion, he’s sitting on the floor looking tired, his eyes swept over the teams looking for his own. You feel bad for him. His family must not be here today, and his team didn’t bother to show up for him.

Later that day, you found yourself pulled to a club to celebrate another Max win, you’re usually up for the celebration, but after what happened at the garage, you weren’t feeling up to it. However, you can never say no to Max when he asks you to do something all nice and loving, so that’s how you ended up here. In a random club, with a lot of Formula 1 workers from all teams and FIA, they’re all having the times of their lives as if they’re not rivals and hate each other, every other day of the week. You’ve sat down the moment you walked in and haven’t moved, drinks coming to you, but you’ve only been sipping light ones, not wanting to get drunk and deal with a headache in the morning.

An hour in, you head to the bar to order water or a soda, not in the mood to drink more. With a sigh, you lean on the bar and wait for the bartender to make his way to you, looking bored out of your life.

”You don’t look like you’re having fun.” Someone says, coming up to stand beside you, the accent familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint why before you turn and your eyes fall on a pair of brown eyes.

”Not really.” You say and shrug, turning so you’re both facing each other. “I mean you’re the first person to come up to talk to me in the last hour or something.”

”I don’t believe that, a beautiful woman like you.” Lewis gives you a small smile, and you chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes.

“I know, right, and here I dressed up, only for it not to work.” You say a tone of amusement lanced into your words, liking this banter going back and forth.

”I wouldn’t say it’s not working.” Lewis says and looks you up and down, you blush under his gaze but the smile doesn’t drop from your lips, the bartender comes up to you right then and asks you for your order, you ask for a glass of water and a soda, before he turns to Lewis who doesn’t ask for a drink. “You’re not drinking?”

”I had a couple of drinks, but I don’t feel like getting drunk.” You tell him, and he hums, you lean closer as if you’re going to say a secret. “Between you and me, I didn’t want to be here anyways.”

”Me neither, why are you here?” Lewis asks, you look around the club, and your eyes fall onto your brother having the time of his life with his friends.

”Because my brother wanted me to come.” You say not looking away from Max, who was smiling and enjoying himself, it brings a smile to your face seeing him carefree. Your favourite type of Max.

”You’re Max’s sister.” At Lewis’ words, you realise he didn’t know who you were, your head snaps to look at him and give him the smallest of smiles, a defeated look hiding behind your eyes. As if you’re expecting the worst.

”Yeah, is that a problem?” You ask him already knowing what he’ll say. Your brother is his biggest rival. There’s history between them, and it’s not all rainbows and sunshine. Just because they have respect for each other doesn’t mean they love the other.

”No, you’re not Max.” This did surprise you, and it showed on your face, Lewis winked, and you shook your head. “Do you want to head out of here?”

”Sure.” With that, you and Lewis turn and head out. Everyone’s too drunk or too occupied to see your retreating figures.

Let’s just say that you enjoyed your night, Lewis isn’t just good at racing. He did convince you to stay the night after everything was said and done, with his eyes half lidded and you both breathing hard it was the easiest yes you’ve ever said.

You woke up alone with the shower going in the background, feeling lazy. You sat up in bed and looked out the window. The view from his room was beautiful. You’re so lost in thought you don’t realise when the water stopped running or when Lewis came in the room. He stood there looking at you, your back bare for him to see, your hair messy, the sun coming from the windows making you glow. Lewis, dressed in only his boxers, moves to the bed and slots himself behind you, his bare chest meeting your back as his arms sneak around your waist, pulling you back. You lean into his chest and take a deep breath, content with the moment. Lewis’ lips find their home where your neck meets your shoulder, placing soft feather-like kisses up and down the exposed skin, you move your head to the side giving him more room to do as he wants.

”Lewis.” You moan suddenly breathless, Lewis moves his hands up your arms lightly before you wince in pain, making him stop all movements and pull away from you. You freeze and close your eyes instantly, knowing why you were in pain.

”What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Lewis asks, feeling guilt for causing you pain. You shake your head no and sigh, still not looking at him.

”No, no, it’s not you.” Lewis looks at where his hands were and he sees the bruise on your bicep, his mind goes to last night and he thinks over his actions, did he hold your bicep, maybe squeezed a bit too hard. It definitely looks like hand marks. You stand up still naked and snatch Lewis’s shirt from the night before from the floor where you threw it and slip it on. The oversized shirt falls mid thigh, and the short sleeves come down to your elbows covering your bruise.

”Who the fuck did this to you?” Lewis follows you off the bed, you turn to look at him crossing your arms protectively, suddenly feeling self conscious, you refuse to meet his eyes and clear your throat but no words came out of your mouth. “y/n, just tell me what happened?”

”It’s nothing. He didn’t mean to.” You mutter and shake your head, your hair falling into your face.

“Who? Who did it?” Lewis pleaded with you and you closed your eyes and bit your lip to stop the tears, it wasn’t a secret how rough your father is especially in the RedBull garage but no one outside a few observant people(which don’t include Max) know how rough he is with you.

”My dad, but he was just angry. He’s not like that, not anymore.” You mumble the last part, but Lewis heard it loud and clear, and just like yesterday, he surprises you. Lewis pulls you in for a hug, his tattooed arms just pulling you close, and he holds you. He just holds you.

”Bloody hell, love, I’m sorry.” Lewis says in your hair, and you raise your head to look at him, but still staying in his hold.

”You have absolutely no reason to be sorry.” You tell him and your hands move up to his face, lightly touching his cheek, your eyes taking him in. “I don’t really care.”

“It still doesn’t make it right. You shouldn’t go through something like this.” Lewis says, and you shrug.

”Life isn’t really fair.” He felt that there’s more behind those words. You didn’t just mean what happened the day before. There’s more pain in your voice, in your past, and to him, it looked like no one took the time to talk to you about them to help you through those pains. Lewis finds himself wondering why, he’s known you for less than 24 hours and all he wants to do is get to know you, uncover all your secrets, help you where you need help, support you where you need support.

”Well, if you let me, I think I can make it a little more fair.” Lewis says, deciding that this isn’t the last time he’ll spend time with you. He pulls back and goes to his bedside table where his phone rests.

”What are you talking about?” You ask him confused.

”Give me your number, I’m taking you out next time we’re both free.” Lewis says and hands you his phone. You slowly take it and look up at him with wide eyes.

”You want to go out with me? like on a date?” You wanted to make sure you understood him correctly.

”I do.”

“Even though you know I come with baggage.” You want to make sure he understands it won’t be easy.

”I don’t think it’s baggage, but even if it was, I don’t care.” Lewis gives you one of his smiles that make you weak in your knees, and you don’t think twice and type in your number. Lewis instantly calls you, and your phone rings before he ends the call. “Now you also have my number, and if you ever need something, or someone or a place to just call me.”

”Thank you.”

”I haven’t done anything yet, love.”

”Oh you’ve already done a lot.” Most people would act as if nothing happened and they saw nothing, most wouldn’t want to go out with you knowing there’s a lot in your past that needs solving, most wouldn’t go out with their rival’s sister, but most aren’t Lewis Hamilton, and you’re glad he’s not like the most.

You and Lewis start texting, getting to know each other. You see a side to the Mercedes driver you’ve never seen before. He’s so easy to talk to. You feel like whatever you tell him is a secret he’ll take to the grave. In the couple weeks since you’ve started talking you’ve been more open with him than anyone else, not just about your past and growing up with Jos but about your feelings. He never judges and gives the best advice. He’s been supportive and understanding to a point you’ve asked yourself how he is real.

You asked him to keep your budding friendship (turing relationship) a secret and he agreed 100% with you, it’ll cause a lot of trouble when and if it comes out, and you’re not ready for that. And for the first time in forever you don’t spend your free time between races where Max is, you fly to wherever Lewis is, and so for a month you both find that time to get to know the other in a way that you’ve never done before, and you find yourself being Lewis’s girlfriend and it makes you the happiest thinking about it. He’s made you happier, and those closest to you have noticed you’re more smiley and happy those days.

Sneaking around like children, not two adults was part of the fun, but it also made it harder for you.

”What are you smiling at?” Kelly asks, leaning closer to you. You close your phone in an instant to the amusement of your brother’s girlfriend. Max was in a meeting or doing something for media, so you and Kelly were having lunch in the paddock.

“Nothing.” You say, and your face flushes red, making her laugh.

”Come on, I can tell you’re texting someone.” Kelly laughs and nudges you. You roll your eyes and take a sip from your drink. “Who is he?”

”Nonone.”

”So there’s someone.” Kelly raises her eyebrows, and you sigh and nod your head. Yes, Kelly squeals and looks like she’s ready for a gossip session.

“Kelly, you’re not getting more out of me.” You tell the female, and she pouts.

”Why? Even Max is wondering who you’re texting all the time.” Kelly is confused, and rightfully so, you’re very open with her and Max. Not the type to keep something like this a secret. Or so they thought, but how can they be 100% sure when you haven’t been with anyone for years or even shown interest in anyone.

”That’s why I can’t tell you.”

”What? you can trust me, I won’t tell him if you don't want to.” Kelly felt offended that you didn’t trust her to keep a secret. She’s close to you. Anyone close to Max is close to you. His friends are your friends.

”I wouldn't do that to you, if he found out you knew and didn’t tell him he’ll get mad.” You explain to her, wanting her to understand where you’re coming from.

”No he wouldn't.” Kelly replies, and you give her a look making her sigh, Max is protective, and no one is good enough for you in his eyes. “Okay maybe he will be, but who could you be dating for you to be so sure he’ll get mad, anyways.”

“I love you, Kells, but I can’t tell you.” You both sat in silence for a bit, Kelly was thinking of any possible men you might’ve come across the last month, she started crossing some out of the list she made in her mind that you wouldn’t like, before her eyes went wide.

”It’s a driver!” She shouts, and a few eyes snapped to look at you both. You choke on your drink and cough a few times. “Sorry.”

”What the fuck Kelly, you want to tell the whole world?” You whisper shout and she looks apologetically muttering sorry.

”It’s a driver then.” She whispered and you reluctantly nod, who knew this lunch would cause you so much. “I’m not going to push you for more… yet.”

”Well thank god for that.” You mutter, but know that she’ll look and analyse every single interaction you have with any driver. Kelly went over the 19 drivers, crossing out those in a relationship. Nico, Kevin, Valtteri, Daniel, Checo, Carlos, Pierre, Alex, Esteban, Charles, Oscar, and George are all in a relationship. That narrows it down, but it’s still a bit, but a few are still single. Fernando, Lewis, Lance, Zhou, Lando, Yuki and Logan that left her with 7 drivers that are single, and you’re at the age that dating someone older would raise a few eyebrows and so would dating some of the younger drivers, but it wouldn’t be totally out of the box. Lance is the one closest to you in age, but she doesn’t think he’s your type.

After the Austin Grand Prix, Lewis makes it to your room, and a few teams booked their rooms at the same hotel, something that you’ve come to appreciate. Your room isn’t as big as Lewis’s but it just happened that he made it to your room, the brit, and you decided to chill and have a lazy night. The TV was on, but you both weren’t focused on it, each having a glass of Almave in hand, the non alcoholic drink your new favourite and it looked like you’d never run out of it.

You just finished telling Lewis about something that happened when you were younger and still karting, telling him about all the drama that happened then and how silly it is. His arm was on the back of the sofa beides your head, your legs over his lap, and his other hand was on your thigh rubbing softly at the skin visible from your bunched up shorts.

”Why did you stop karting?” Lewis asked, your smile from laughing wasn’t all gone yet, but it did falter a bit. You suck in your lips and run your tongue over them.

”My dad said that there’s no place for women in motorsport and that Max will carry the family name in Formula 1.” You shrug, your head dropping a little. The hand besides your head moves to your face making you raise your head and look at him, Lewis felt bad for you but he tried not to be obvious about it, he knew you wouldn't want him to.

“I know for a fact then if you continued, you’d be kicking all out asses on track.” Lewis said softly, and you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

”You haven’t even seen me karting.” You tell him softly and find that your breath hits his face from how close you’ve gotten.

”Next time we meet up, we’ll do that.” Lewis said and gave your thigh a squeeze. You hum and lean closer, your lips meeting his. His lips were warm and soft, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head. And as always, his lips made a spark ignite inside you and left you warm and fuzzy. Soft sighs left your lips as your lips moved, Lewis’s hand moved up your thigh and over your butt, tugging you so you’d move with him until you’re standing him. You pull back just a little, your breath mingling with his, his eyes looking at you and making you fall in love with him.

”Lewis.” Just the way you said his name left him breathless and needy, he pulled you down for your lips to meet again.

You’re both disturbed when Lewis’s phone rings, you move from on top of him and he reaches over to get his phone, seeing the caller ID he gives you an apologetic look and answers the phone. You sigh sadly, feeling a bit irritated to be interrupted, but Lewis is a busy man, and she understands this.

“I’m sorry, love, but I have to go.” Lewis leans over to kiss your head before hastily gathering his things. “It’s an emergency meeting, I’ll text you when I’m done and come back.”

”Okay, I’ll wait for you.” You say and lay back on the sofa taking out your phone to scroll through the TV is still going. Around half an hour later, your door is opened, making you raise your head and frown when you see Max walking in.

”How did you get in?”

”I have a card.” Max shows you the door card that had your room number on it.

”Why?” You ask him confused. He also relieved that he hadn’t come in when Lewis was still here.

”You’ve been losing yours a lot lately, so I thought to just ask for one.” Max shrugged as if it’s normal, he sat down in the chair by your legs so you could look at him, you rolled your eyes at his words, not needing to ask how the front desk gave it to him. You haven’t been losing your cards. You’ve been asking for an extra one to give to Lewis.

“What’s that?” Max asks, and you don’t bother looking up from your phone.

”What’s what?”

“That.” You sigh and sit up, looking to where your brother is pointing, your heart drops. Lewis forgot his watch, and it’s laying there on the side table that had a lamp on it, and it’s so very obvious not yours. The IWC Big Pilot’s Watch Perpetual Calendar ‘Lewis Hamilton’ Edition IW503002 is a beauty, but no way can it be yours. You curse Lewis in your mind for taking it off when he first came in. You open your mouth and close it a couple of times, trying to find words to say but coming up empty. “I’ve seen this before.”

”I don’t think so.” You say nervously, chuckling. Max frowns in thought as he tries to remember where he had seen the watch before.

”No I’ve seen it, I remember the red.” Max mumbles, and the moment he remembers you can tell, his face says it all. “L-Lewis? That’s who you’ve been seeing behind my back.”

”Max-“

”No you had your chance to tell me, but you didn’t.” Max stands up, and you follow suit. His voice is angry and irritated, a bit of betrayal in there as well. “How could you date Lewis and not tell me how could you even date him, I can’t believe you’d do something like this!”

”I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d get angry, and I didn’t want you to be angry.” You try to explain to him your reason, but he’s having none of that.

”Because I’m calm now.” Max says sarcastically.

”Max, this is why I didn’t tell you.” Your hands move in frustration, one of your legs shake in anxiety, and you whisper. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

”What is there to understand? You’re sleeping with my rival.” Max shouts, it breaks you. Max may have this image as the villain in public but he’s not like that with you, he’s always been nice and loving, you’re the best thing about his childhood, the warm hug he had, the person he relayed on, the person that could always make him smile. Seeing the look in his eyes makes tears gather in yours. “y/n, I can’t believe you. After everything you’re just, what? Selling yourself to Lewis-“

”Max.”

”-Do you have any idea-“

”Max.”

”-how this can affect my image-“

”Max, please.”

”-I thought I could count on you not to do something like this-“

”I didn’t.”

”-Dad was right.”

”Wh-what?” This just breaks you in two, completely shatters you.

”He said that you’re an attention who-“

”Okay enough.” You say and raise your hands in the air to stop him, tears leaving your eyes freely. “Please leave, I can’t hear you anymore, I can’t.”

Max fights the need to say sorry and hug you. He’s too in his emotions, and he’s too stubborn and hardheaded to say anything.

”Just leave, please.” Max turns and leaves your room. The quality time he wanted to spend with you is ruined. The moment the door closes, he feels like his relationship with you is forever changed. It cracked, and he curses himself for being so careless with his words.

Part 2

[ambivalence-is-me]

Your Power (1)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Meeting Azriel and the inner circle was not in your plans by any means. But it happened and it was not your brightest moment.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: mentions of death

A/N: Had this idea for a while and wanted to get it out! I haven’t read Silver Flames soo anything that might seem out of place is totally on purpose. I apologize for any (all) grammatical error :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘’YOU!’’

Azriel saw you the second you started walking their way. Your wide-eyed friend behind you trying to keep up with your drunk self. As always, he was on high alert even when his family told him to relax and enjoy the night. So, when he saw where you were headed, he quickly analyzed the situation and realized you weren’t a threat, even more as your friend tried to get you to stop.

He looked at Rhys, who in return raised an eyebrow at you and gave you his charming smile, and then back at you and decided to entertain the scene before him.

‘’You’ve forgotten about us, you know that right?! How can you continue to act all high and mighty while the rest of us are breaking down more and more each day!’’

You had one finger pointing at Rhys, your other hand bunched up in a fist on your side. They (Azriel, Rhys, Cassian, Feyre and Mor. The rest of the inner circle didn’t bother to go out that night and join them at Rita’s) all knew you were drunk but you were looking at them so fiercely, your voice never quivered, you definitely had all of their attention.

‘’Yes, you saved us but for what? To cast us aside when you’re done?’’ You looked to Feyre then. ‘’And you! I had such high hopes for you! A high lady yes, go females! But you’ve done the same!’’

Azriel saw how Rhys stopped smiling the second you turned to his mate, still recognizing that you were all bark and no bite but knowing how Feyre was going to save every single word you were saying in her brain and was going to overthink it later. Clearly, the amount of drinks you’ve had didn’t make you forget you were currently yelling at the High Lord and High Lady.

‘’Velaris needs you, the people need you! So do something about it!’’ With this, you finally dropped your hand, looked at them one last time before storming away. Your friend, once again, running after you not wanting to look at them after what you had done. She knew you were going to regret this outburst the next day.

And you did.

The second you woke up the next day, everything came rushing back and you wished you had a hangover so you wouldn’t have to think about it. A hangover sounded a thousand times better than thinking about how foolish and stupid you looked the night before.

Like, really? To go to the inner circle’s table, drunk, and yell at the high lord and lady? Surely, they were either going to forget about it or kill you. Or maybe they’d kill you and THEN forget about the incident. Sure, that’s what was going to happen.

But you quickly dismissed the idea when two days passed and nothing happened. Your life went back to normal and that was it. As if, the encounter you had with Velaris’ (and probably all of Prythian’s) most powerful fae was nothing. It probably was, you were just another common fae.

So, two days passed and you put it on the back of your mind focusing on your duties. Today, first thing you must do is drop off your nephew at school.

On Tuesday mornings, your sister-in-law wakes up before the sunrise to get ingredients for the shop meaning she couldn’t take your nephew to school. Therefore, you volunteered to do it. You loved your nephew and would do anything for him and his mother. Anything to make their lives easier. Sometimes your mom would join you but most times, it was just you and you were more than okay with that, savoring all the time you can with your nephew.

‘’Excellent! You’re gonna ace that test, kid’’. You sent him a big smile, squeezing the hand you were holding as you made your way to the school.

‘’I hope so. Mom said she’d let join her to the meadows if I did.’’ Of course he was interested in joining his mother. Like her, he loved nature and everything it provided them. He said he wanted to follow her footsteps and he was unknowingly also following his father's.

Your brother.

‘’Then you better get your boots ready, kid. I’m positive you’re gonna do great.’’

He gave you a big smile. He had your brother’s smile and you loved that about him. It made you feel like he was always there with you. It made missing him hurt less, even if years had already passed.

Both of you continue the walk to school. Talking about anything and everything. Like you, he was a yapper. But not everyone got to see that side of you. Many said you were quiet but that’s only because you don’t trust easily. Once you trust someone then they couldn’t get you to shut up. It was one of the many things that made you, you.

As you were nearing the school, your nephew stopped. ‘’What was that?’’

You looked at him confused ‘’What was what?’’

He looked around as if trying to locate whatever thing he saw. ‘’ I don’t know. It looked like a shadow’’. You looked at him even more confused. A shadow?

‘’Maybe it was a dragon’’ He looked at you unamused. ‘’Dragons don’t exist, Aunt Y/N’’.

‘’Maybe they should’’ you murmured under your breath. You shook your head and forgot about it as you looked at the school. You sighed. ‘’All right, kid. Go in there and do everything I wouldn’t do.’’

He gave you a look. ‘’You’re not supposed to encourage that’’. He was so mature for being so young.

You giggled and gave him a push towards school. ‘’Give ‘em hell! I’ll see you later!’’ You waved and sent him a kiss goodbye.

Once he was inside, you made your way to work.

Before you were even born, your family owned an apothecary shop. Your mother made sure you and your brother knew all about the family business as you were growing up. Your father passed away when you were a babe, having no recollection of him. Therefore, your mother ran the business until you or your brother were old enough to take care of it.

Growing up, you knew quickly that you wanted to do nothing with it. Nature was not your thing, you had great respect for it but it didn’t come naturally to you the way it did for your brother. He loved it and he loved spending time in the shop with your mother learning about it.

They had decided then that he was to stay with the shop once he was of age and finished his studies. You, on the other hand, gravitated to another side: music and arts. You loved anything that had to do with music: listening, playing, creating it; you name it. If there was music, you’d be there. A trait you’d inherited from your father, that’s what mother always said.

You had a job at a music shop and you loved it. It was everything you ever wanted and you were SO SURE that the man that owned it was going to promote you and one day maybe even give it to you. You wanted to take care of it, of the instruments, of the stories behind them. The shop had nights where the people would come and play together creating beautiful music. You wanted to play in all of them. Music was one of the things that made you extremely happy.

But then the war happened and your brother died.

And all of your plans to stay at the music shop died with him. You couldn’t stay there and let your family business die with him too. Your mother, nephew and sister-in-law were heart broken (as were you, of course. Heart broken doesn’t even come close) and you knew they were in no shape to run the shop.

So, there you went and stepped up to the plate. It was very hard at first to get the hang of it. You weren’t your brother, you didn’t have the same patience or love for it but eventually, you made it through. A year later, your sister-in-law decided to work there as well, saying that it made her feel closer to her husband.

You understand her completely, because sometimes you feel like he was there. It made you somewhat happy that you didn’t give up on the shop, on his dream even if you had to give up yours. Also, you have so much respect for her, not imagining how it must feel to love someone (romantically) so deeply, someone you swore was going to be with you for eternity and then having them gone so unexpectedly. Never to see them again.

You had your flings sure, but in all your centuries of being alive, you had never fallen in love the way your brother and sister-in-law were. Their love story was one of the most beautiful stories you’ve ever experienced and you hope to have one yourself one day. But until then, your day must go on.

‘’Good morning!’’ You said to Sabrina, one of the faes that also worked in the shop. She looked at you and smiled back.

‘’Morning, boss!’’ She was younger than you by a few centuries and you enjoyed having her in the shop. Somehow, she was always up to date with the town’s gossip so it was great to yap with her.

‘’How was your night, huh? That male still thinks you’re his mate?’’

She gave you a mischievous smile and a wink. ‘’Oh yeah, you should’ve see him. I got him to fix my bathroom sink. For free of course’’. Oh yeah, she scared you as well. She was a beautiful fae (and she knew it). With eyes and body that resembled siren’s, she could have any male she wanted and somehow tricked them into believing they were mates. Like a siren would indeed.

You thought it was both hilarious and dumb. You’ve heard tales of mating bonds, of how precious, powerful and extremely rare they were. And yet, somehow the males believed Sabrina when she would tell them that she was their mate.

‘’Males are dumb and will believe anything you say to them so long you give them attention’’ She would always say. She was right in one thing for sure, males are dumb.

‘’You’re evil’’. You said with a laugh and went inside the office of the shop.

Ugh, this work was so boring and tedious, you thought. How did your brother enjoy this? Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you sighed and started working.

Until about 20 minutes later, Sabrina stormed inside the office. You looked up at her confused, she wasn’t one to barge in like that.

‘’Yes? What’s wrong?’’ She was wide eyed, mouth opening as if she’d seen a ghost. So, you told her just that. ‘’You look like you’ve seen a ghost’’.

‘’Shadows actually’’ She whispered. You looked at her even more confused. Shadows? Like the ones your nephew saw this morning?

‘’Shadows?’’

‘’Shadowsinger’’

‘’Shadowsinger? Sabrina, you’re not making any sense’’. Truly, she was scaring you. Shadowsinger, what the heck did she mean?

‘’He’s here!’’ She whispered yelled. ‘’The high lord’s Shadowsinger. He’s here and he’s looking for you’’. Her frightened eyes never steering from yours.

The high lord’s-what? But then, it all clicked in. Your eyes and mouth opened wide.

‘’Shit shit shit’’ you whispered yelled as well. Standing up from the chair and pacing in front of Sabrina.

‘’What did you do?!’’ the whisper-yells continued.

But you weren’t listening to her, you were replaying that Mother’s awful night in your mind. ‘’I’m gonna die, he’s gonna kill me’’. You whispered and Sabrina let out a squeak, hands quickly going to her mouth.

‘’No! You can’t! I can’t lose this job, Y/N! I’m still so young. Oh my Mother. Who’s gonna tell your mother? I can’t tell her! She scares me.’’ Sabrina continued her rambling, you listening to bits and pieces and further feeling fear run through your body.

‘’My sister-in-law is ready to take over okay? Just, make sure you hide my body and everything will be okay. You’ll make sure of that right?’’ In another scenario, this would be downright funny to you but right now, you actually believed that the male behind the door (who was probably listening to all of this) was actually going to murder you.

Sabrina shook her head repeatedly, motioning with her hands as well. ‘’Absolutely not. That is a lot of responsibility here. I’m technically a witness here! What if he kills me too?’’ After saying that, she froze, and you saw how pale her face was getting at the thought of dying at the hands of the Shadowsinger.

So once again, you had to step up and be the strong one. With that thought, you stilled.

Okay so you were drunk and decided to go to the most powerful high lord (and high lady) and told them off. Not your brightest decision, clearly, but everything you said that night was true. It was what all of the citizens of Velaris were thinking but no one had dared to say out loud, specially directly to the rulers of the city.

After the first attack the city suffered, Velaris was a slowly sinking ship and it seemed like the inner circle wasn’t paying attention to it or its citizens. But you were. Because you were also one of them, another citizen. But you were very observant and most importantly, you listened. You listened to their troubles, fears and never ending grief. You and your family were all testament to that. So when it seemed like time kept passing and no one was stepping up, you said something.

Drunk, mind you, but it was said. So, if one of the most powerful faes of all time was there to kill you, then you’d find a sense of pride amidst all of the fear inside you, and then die knowing you tried to help the people of Velaris.

Even if they would never know.

‘’Let him in’’ You stated after clearing your throat.

Sabrina’s eyes stayed wide open. ‘’Are you sure?’’

‘’He’s not going to want to kill me in front of you okay? I- just’’ You sighed, none of this was making sense. ‘’Just let him in, please’’.

But both of you knew that there was no other choice but to let him in. So with that, Sabrina nodded, looked at you as if it was the last time she ever would, and walked out to get the male.

You struggled to stay still, hands fidgeting, looking straight at the door and swallowing down fear. Any moment now, he was going to walk in and death-

Holy Cauldron, he was the most gorgeous male you’ve ever seen.

You quickly replayed that night in your mind, trying to remember if he looked as good as he looks now but truthfully, your vision was hazy and focused only on Rhysand and Feyre. You were honestly glad of that, that you were so focused on your goal and not exactly looking at him because if you did, you’d cower and retreat at the sight of his beauty.

He was one beautiful intimidating male, that’s for sure. And one who was here on a mission.

‘’Hello’’ You squeaked out. Quickly clearing your throat and recovering (trying to at least). ‘’Is there anything I can help you with?’’

The fact that this female, the same one who had the balls to go up to his high lord and tell him off without a second thought, is the very same female who is now standing before him and looking at him like she wanted to run away, had him fighting a smile.

He’s a male who takes his job very seriously, known for being closed off and stoic. So when Rhys sent him to find the female who had left an impression on all of them and whose words stroke a nerve, he did it without a second thought. It wasn’t that hard to find you, he was really good at his job and also, your family business was well known in Velaris. People knew who you were and even though not all of them knew the real you, they knew you were a kind, caring and hard-working fae.

After finding everything he could about you, he reported back to Rhysand and Feyre. You were born and raised in Velaris, good grades, even better behavior, worked at a music shop, were now the owner of the apothecary, mother stayed at home, no father, has a sister-in-law who works at the shop, has a nephew, brother dead, no husband (that he could find at least). You were just another common fae. A really pretty one, one of his shadows had whispered to him.

He agreed.

He could see you getting antsier the longer it took him to reply. So with an raised eyebrow, he extended his hand toward you that held a parchment you had failed to see when you were too busy ogling at him and wondering if the death was going to be a painful one.

You saw it now. You also saw his hands. The rumors were true then. They were filled with scars, you wondered for a second how they must feel to touch.

Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you cleared your throat and stepped closer to take the parchment. ‘’Um-okay, thank you’’.

Really? Your thanking him for what exactly? You grabbed it and looked at it for a second before staring back at him. Not wanting to lose the opportunity to stare at his eyes up close.

Those rumors were also true. His hazel eyes were absolutely beautiful. For Mother’s sake, did he have an ugly bone in his body?!, you thought.

‘’Open it’’ How can someone so beautiful and intimidating make you feel things with just their voice? Is this what his prisoners feel before they die?

You could listen to him talk all day, but his reputation tells you that he’s not one to talk much, not like you. Which is exactly what you’re going to start doing if you continue to stand in his presence.

You weren’t sure if he was going to stand for your yapping. ‘’Oh! Sure-okay.’’ Clearing your throat once again, you looked away from his eyes and finally focused on the piece of parchment.

Opening and reading it, you gasped and your eyes widened.

‘’Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

We are inviting you to a formal meeting that will be held in two days, morning time at The Library. Please confirm with Azriel of your attendance.

We eagerly await your presence.

Rhysand and Feyre

High Lord and High Lady of the Night’s Court. ‘’

A meeting? With you? For what? Do they all want to have a part in your death?

You really need to stop thinking that they’re going to kill you, they would have done it by now…right?

Your ongoing thoughts were definitely not helping with the nerves. Why the heck did they want to meet with you?

Reading it a third time, you saw the name Azriel and assumed this was the Shadowsinger standing right before you and patiently waiting for your response.

Right, response. You’re supposed to confirm your attendance. But, were you going to go? Were you really going to say no to your high lord and lady? You might’ve been brave when you were under the influence but any other day you weren’t exactly courageous or anything. But what was at stake here? Maybe this was your chance to apologize for that night. You weren’t going to apologize for saying the truth but perhaps how it was delivered. Okay sure, you can do that..right?

‘’Right-umm’’. You looked at the male before you, noticing the brightness of his hazel eyes and was that amusement? Was he..amused by all of this?

‘’I’ll be there’’. You decided. Fuck, you weren’t sure about this. But it was out there, Azriel heard it and was sure going to report it back.

Azriel nodded and took a step back from you.

You were glad of the extra breathing space. It was still early, how the heck were you supposed to focus during the rest of the day?

‘’I wouldn’t leave your body here, I’d hide it. Can’t leave evidence behind’’

Did he just make a joke? Of your death? He obviously heard you and Sabrina then. And the male had the audacity to find it funny!

So, the cold and ruthless Shadowsinger had humor then…a dark one it seems. Interesting.

Too shock to reply to that, you saw a hint of a smile on his face before he quickly hid it and left. Leaving you with a memory of his eyes and smile engraved in your brain.

What the fuck did you agree to?

[ham1lton]

— a spinoff from the nepo!sis universe, what if you were the first female driver in formula one?

-> pairings: tba!

-> key people: mrs fluffkins as your cat. gavin as your race engineer and surrogate father. y/s as your younger sister. jo as your ever suffering pr manager.

-> author’s note: this is supposed to be a collaborative process!! so feel free to send in scenarios and ideas for our girl as this will constantly be getting updated.

tags -> all related works will be here.

main works.

YOU’RE STILL YOUNG (THAT’S YOUR FAULT) — your rookie season isn’t going well and you’re really feeling the pressure. after a particularly gruelling week, your sister is worried and calls in emergency help. that’s how sebastian vettel ends up on your doorstep on a rainy thursday afternoon.

QUESTION TIME? — being the only female driver on the grid means being the unofficial spokesperson for women in motorsports and you’re tired of it.

CASUAL — you expected dating to be difficult with your job but you didn’t expect to be having a debriefing with nico rosberg about your love life. but hey, when in monaco right?

WELCOME TO MIAMI — after the miami grand prix, you and some of your fellow drivers go out for karaoke and drinks for ‘bonding’ according to a certain lando norris.

MISS BAD MEDIA KARMA — after a night out, the media is alight with rumours and speculation about your romantic life. most people would call a pr meeting, you go through the funniest rumours on instagram live and rate them out of ten.

THERE SHE GOES — you win your first race and navigate all the chaos that follows. includes your iconic glossed camera kiss and social media’s reaction.

STREETS — you arrive in austin a little early, perfect time to go for a drive! you have the car, the playlist, charles leclerc, the vibes, the snacks - wait… CHARLES LECLERC? how did he sneak in your car? and why is this drive… kinda fun?

extras.

TEN THINGS F1 DRIVER Y/N L/N CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT. — the anticipated gq interview. it’s pretty straightforward, content is in the name.

Y/N L/N GOES SNEAKER SHOPPING W/ COMPLEX - formula one driver y/n l/n goes shopping with complex’s joe la pluma in new york and talks about her favourite shoes, her forage into fashion, her dependence on sneakers and buys her whole family a pair.

GRID IDIOTS - snippets from your group chat with your friends.

alternate universes.

HE SAYS TO BE COOL (I DON’T KNOW HOW YET) — after a party at a mutual friends, you and jenson are photographed leaving together. the large age gap causes concern especially after your earlier admission that you had a crush on him as a young driver. ⋗ jenson button x maneater!reader.

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus. 

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away. 

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance. 

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show. 

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo. 

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again. 

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister. 

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick. 

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of  your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves. 

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league. 

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol. 

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask. 

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you. 

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem. 

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut. 

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension. 

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving. 

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled. 

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion. 

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.  

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold. 

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig. 

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand. 

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses. 

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement. 

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache. 

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils.  His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad. 

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first. 

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions. 

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you. 

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy. 

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt. 

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble. 

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets.  A woman can only make so many sacrifices. 

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check. 

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth. 

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar. 

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open. 

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth. 

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll.  You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air. 

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts. 

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning. 

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other. 

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him. 

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return. 

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess. 

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily. 

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal. 

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you. 

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms. 

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment. 

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you. 

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work. 

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember. 

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t. 

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled. 

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky. 

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point. 

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t. 

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace. 

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged. 

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder. 

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time. 

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble. 

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway. 

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together. 

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me! 

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky. 

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole. 

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed. 

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer. 

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost. 

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements. 

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right. 

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors. 

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response. 

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock. 

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?” 

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.” 

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer. 

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.  

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe. 

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.” 

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.” 

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern. 

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them. 

It won’t be happening again.

[adventuringblind]

Pleaseeee part two of media relations!!!

Maybe J*s’ texts and comments to reader get brought up and Mac and Charles get all protective (maybe time skip with a mini verstappen 👀)

- 📚 @ireadthensuetheauthors

Media Relations Part Two

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: angst

Summary: Max and Charles get protective when Jos goes a bit to far.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, lestappen if you squint, rough pregnancy and birth,

Notes: Reminder that I'm not a doctor :)

Masterlist

Charles had mixed feelings about the whole situation. Angry that Ferrari and Redbull screwed over his sister and friend. Happy that they don’t have to pretend to be in love anymore. Sad that she moved out of his apartment and into Max’s. Now he adds confused to his list.

The two had come over to his apartment for dinner. He wanted to show his appreciation for his sister and what she'd tried to do for him regardless of if falling through.

The female, though, had been anxiously eyeing her phone screen. It had buzzed a few times against the table, but she hadn't picked it up. It looked like she was even getting farther away from it.

When she excused herself, Charles jumped on the opportunity. "Is she okay? She's been acting a bit strangley."

Max sighs and stares at her empty place at the table. "She insists everything is fine, but you and I have known her long enough to see when something is off." Max looks at Charles, and the Monegasque can see the worry on his face. "She's been eating less and has barely touched her phone. She hasn't talked to anyone outside of me or you in a while."

"Yes, I know. My mother is getting worried about her."

Both of them had come to the conclusion that it's possible she's just going through a rough patch.

~

It's crazy how things change over the course of a year. Her and Max had been flourishing. Absolutely in love.

Max had been planning on proposing. Even going to Charles to ask his blessing.

The Dutch had yet to learn that plans change on a whim. That when he found his hopefully soon to be fiance crying on the bathroom floor of his hotel room his world would be changed again.

He sets himself down onto the floor and pulls her into him.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpers, handing Max a plastic stick. Ten of them, actually.

“You’re pregnant?”

She starts sobbing again but Max feels the opposite. He’s all smiles and warmth.

It’s not shocking she’s upset. Not to him, at least. She’s been on the receiving end of hate over the last year. Someone had leaked that they were originally doing this for a contract. Another reason Max wants to marry her. Help her insecurities about the whole thing.

“There is no reason to apologize.” He kisses her head.

“Your not mad at me? What if this is another distraction?”

“Another distraction? Where did you get that idea?”

She freezes. Her chest was barely moving. “No reason - just my brain being dumb." She starts wiping her tears away, but Max moves her hands aside and does it for her.

"Marry me?"

"What?"

“Marry me, please.” It was supposed to be romantic. He’ll make it romantic eventually. But as he stares at the smile on her face and shine in her eyes, he knew he made the right choice/

“Yes.”

~

Charles was the first to know. She’d called him much more excited then when Max had found her on the floor. She had yet to tell him about the threats she’d been receiving. He had his own things to worry about, specially with the contract leak. She didn’t want to bother him with her problems.

She’s two months in and laying on the floor in Charles apartment waiting for Max to come get her. “Charlie, what if this is a bad idea?”

Charles looks up from his phone. “What is a bad idea?”

“Max, the baby, everything I’ve ever done in my life.” She sighs.

Charles rolls his eyes at her. “You used to never ask these questions. I think there is something else going on.”

“Nothing at all.”

Charles once again want to push for answers. She got better for a while. Now she’s worse again. The truth is that mental health is not a straight road and he knows that, but he wishes for nothing more then his sister to communicate with him.

~

Four months now. She’s struggling worse then she ever has been. She loves Max with every fiber of her being. Yet she can’t bring herself to tell him the vile things Jos whispers to her when he’s not around or the texts she receives whenever he catches wind of what they do in their off time.

She’s struggling with the pregnancy in and it’s only been three months. She’s had to stay with her mother while Max is traveling. The doctor keeping a close eye on her.

She didn’t want to be a problem while he’s working. Maybe that’s the reason he’s dominating right now. She’s not there to Interfere.

She knows Max loves her. It’s what she clings to daily. The reason she pulls herself together every morning despite the fans and Jos.

It’s the thought that puts her to sleep as she curls up in bed and dreams of him.

Jos leaves with a huff when he gets no response.

Is the pain supposed to be this bad? Where’s her phone? Everything is fuzzy and if she could just find someone who could help her maybe she’d be okay.

But the exhaustion hits to soon. The floor becoming her new home.

~

Seven months. She’s going to see him race seven months pregnant. It’s the last race before summer break. She wanted to see at least one race before they go on holiday.

That’s how she got herself here. Standing in hospitality with Jos Verstappen.

She needs Max. Jos had been not so subtly telling her she shouldn’t be here. She’d turned her brain off after the first paragraph.

Her water had broken after the second.

She needs Max. Or Charles. Or literally anyone at this point.

“Are you even listening to me?!” When did he get so close? She’s three months early so the stress of the situation must have cause an early labor. It doesn’t help that she’s not listening and the feeling of liquid on her leg isn’t helping.

~

“Charles! Have you seen your sister anywhere?” Max gets the Monegasque’s attention.

Charles spins on his heels to face him. “She was in the Redbull garage last time I heard from her. Have you tried hospitality?”

“No, not yet. Might be a bit stupid for that one.” He chuckles.

“Mind if I come with? She looked pale when I left her before the race.”

“Only if you’re okay with the stares.” They both laugh and chat on the way. Since the female Leclerc has become a common factor between them, they’ve grown into quite the pair themselves.

They walk leisurely together through the paddock until Max catches sight of his father. The older male stomps in their direction.

"Tell that girl of yours to be more respectful." He shoves past Max and continues his fit straight through the lines of people.

Max rolls his eyes. His fiancé hadn't hesitated to stand up to his father in the past when it came to him. She was willing to fight anyone for people she cares about. Most likely, that's what happened.

Though there is a feeling in his gut that something else is going on. He and Charles now jog to the entrance.

Why are there so many people around?

His eyes fall to the figure on the floor, and he freezes. Clueless on what to do.

"We've called an ambulance for her." Says somone in the area. He can't tell who. Everyone's voices are swimming.

Charles' hand on his shoulder shakes him from his trance. Max's body is kneeling next to her in seconds.

Charles is calling his mother. She knows everything about her recent medical history forwards and backward.

"She's in labor, I think." Says a different female.

Labor? She's three months early. His mind is reeling, and he knows he needs to get a grip.

He looks at Charles for any sort of support, but the Monegasque is ranting in reach over the phone. Charles does catch his gaze, however, sliding to the floor on the other side of her.

It feels like an eternity until the ambulance gets there. Then Max and Charles are driving to meet her there.

Of course, it's the one week they are in a different country with no family around. He'd texted Christian, the Austrian was more than understanding. He even said he can't wait to meet the mini Verstappen.

The realization hadn't sunk in that he's going to become a father here shortly. "Charles I'm going to be a dad."

"And I'm going to be an uncle. We've known this for a while, mate." Charles is smiling, but Max can see the fear behind his eyes. Passing out is never a good sign.

~

Max is brought back to her room immediately. Charles had to wait for now until she could give permission. Apperently, she'd woken up screaming for Max.

It was too late for any kind of pain medication. The labor was induced by stress. Things didn't look like they should, and Max was panicking when they told him.

They get him sanitized so he can go in the room, and he dosen't know what to do. So he does the one thing he knows how to do and holds her hand.

"Max, it hurts so much." He can see the sweat and tears in her eyes.

It's long and tiring on her end.

But the sound of her baby's cries are all worth it.

~

Charles gets to go see them hours later when she's cleaned up. She looks exhausted when he peeks in the door. The baby lays peacefully on her chest.

Max is sitting next to her, waving him in with a massive grin.

"Charlie." She whispers. "Meet Jules." A baby boy is handed over to him and he dosen't know what to do with himself.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore. Where is maman?"

"She'll be here as soon as she can." He smooths some hair out if her face.

"Charles, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" The Monegasque nods his head and hands the tiny body back to his sister.

Him and Max step outside the door, it shutting behind them with a small click.

"They said it was a stress induced labor. She suffered immensely because of it. Both her and the baby are going to need extra care for a little bit." Max explains.

Charles can hear the waiver in his voice. "Stress from what? The race ended perfectly." Charles taps his chin. His brain trying to think back.

"Do you - do you think it could have been my dad?" Max asks. Teary-eyed and exhausted, the Dutch doesn't know what else it could be.

"You don't think?-"

~

Max creeps back out of the room a second later. His lover and son asleep on the bed.

He clutches her phone in his hand. "I don't like invading her privacy."

"She's been scared of her phone for around two years now. I think we need to look for her safety and health."

Max unlocks the phone and sees a million unread messages. The majority is from an unsaved number.

Max keels over when he reads them. It's his dad's number. He'd texted his dad when the baby was delivered. He's coming to the hospital shortly to visit.

He feels idiotic. How had he not caught this sooner?

Charles helps Max back to his feet. "My dad's been sending her threats. Convincing her not to come to races. Telling her my success is better when she's not around to distract me." Saying the words out loud makes him feel sick again.

Charles takes the phone from his hands and scrolls through the messages so he disent have too. "I don't like how he calls the baby a parasite." He scrunchs up his nose in disgust.

Charles turns off the phone and grabs Max by the shoulders. "You cannot blame yourself for this. It's your dad, and you are not him. You are gentle and kind, and you've treated my sister better than I could've asked for." Max dries his eyes and nods his head.

She and his son both need him now.

~

Everything hurts. Her body feels weak and exhausted. But her mind hasn't been this elated in months.

Jules is lying on her chest. The name was something her and Charles fought over. Having then losing their godfather made them both want it. So it was decided that whoever had a child first gets the name.

Why does everything hurt so much? Charles and Max had to run back to the track to get their stuff but promised they'd be right back. That was twenty minutes ago, meaning they'll be back shortly.

When there's a knock at the door, she's surprised. Maybe her nap was longer then she thought?

Then, a familiar unfriendly face appears inside. "You had one job."

"Please get out."

"I told you to get rid of that thing." He snarls. Her mind is reeling, and the shouting wakes the baby.

She's crying as well, and his antics are doing nothing for her pain. Her heart rate was going up. She could hear it on the monitor.

She's frozen. The pain she felt from their last encounter back in full force.

She screams this time its so bad.

Max and Charles come running in the room. She didn't know how long she'd been screaming, but it was enough that people had heard.

Charles runs back out, yelling the word security.

Max's voice is fuzzy, but he's here. Her heart calmed with his presence. The beeping noise now less intense.

There are a few nurses around. One to take the baby, which makes her panic again. Another is to get her to breathe and give her something for the pain.

"You need to leave. I know what you've been doing now." Max seethes. He doesn't raise his voice, but he doesn't need to. His tone is enough to say everything and more.

They start speaking in Dutch. She can't keep up with it. She's too busy attempting to get Jules back anyway. Jos had threatened to take the baby a few times and being sperated like this with him in the room was doing nothing for her anxiety.

Charles comes back with security, who escort him out of the building. The room goes silent as he leaves.

"I told him never to speak to us again." Max is breathing heavily, and for a moment, she thinks she misheard. "I told him what he did is unforgivable, and he is never to speak to us again."

They both cry this time. The nurses leave them, and Charles is left holding Jules until the two calm down.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to ruin your relationship with him." She chokes. "I didn't want to be a hindrance for you or another problem to worry about."

All the hate she's received the past few years is not something she'd ever wish on someone. She just wants to live peacefully with her family.

"You have no reason to apologize. None of that is on you. They are jealous of you, and my dad is plain evil."

Max leans his forehead against hers. "We have our own little family now. I don't care what anyone has to say, I'm going to fight for it always."

[apollosdaydreams]

I would like a request with Max Verstappen and Y/N are siblings. She is his younger sister and she is MotoGP driver and…

Im sorry, I wasn't better.

Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language 

Author's Note: Sorry if this isn’t 100% accurate. I don’t know much or really anything about MotoGP, but I will try my best. 

Wordcount: 1476 (kinda got carried away) 

DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to hurt Max Verstappen and the Verstappen family! This is just an imagine. Again this is in no way meant to harm the Verstappen family!

Racing. Racing is something that you loved, something you lived for. Your family however always would put Max above you. Their reason to not care about your racing was that you are a girl, and girls don’t belong in racing, girls don’t belong to have a seat. No matter what you did, it wasn’t good enough for Jos, your father. You used to have a great relationship with your other siblings, especially Max. The bond you and Max had was something that couldn’t be explained. You two were closer to each other than you and your twin, Victoria. But as you two both got older, that bond broke. You both started to snap at each other easier, say nasty things to each other and never say sorry. You couldn’t take it anymore. The hate coming from your father, mother and your brother. You left. Moved out, when you turned 18. You cut off contact completely. Blocking their numbers and their social media accounts. You thought you were never going to see them again, oh how wrong you were.

Today was your 24th birthday. Today was also your home race. You were a part of the Red Bull KTM Factory Racing team, ironic. Everyone knew you were a Verstappen, they also knew you didnt talk to your family. People would ask, you wouldn't give them an answer no matter how much they begged. Everyone knew that the Verstappen kids were strong, powerful drivers. You were often being compared to your older brother, Max. When compared to him you would always tell the interviewer that you are your own person and you don't need to be compared to your older brother. 

You quickly pulled on your race suit, shoes and gloves. Trying to shake off the fact that today was your 24th, you haven’t spent a birthday with your family in 6 years. You didn’t care though, they had torn you down, thinking you couldn’t do anything in life. That this dream you had was impossible. Oh how you proved them wrong. You were making history. You were the first female rider in MotoGP, and you were amazing, this was your rookie year and you have already won three races. You dealt with contestant hate, with MotoGP being male dominated. They thought that you definitely had to sleep your way up to the top. Which was something that was just a lie. Something to make them feel better about themselves. 

You walked over to your bike, you shook your hands in a way to calm your nerves. You stretched out one more time. Then you climbed on to your bike. You then drove to your starting point. P3. You stopped your bike and put your feet down beside you. You were taking deep slow breaths to calm your nerves. As this was your home race you had felt a lot of pressure on you. Once you heard the final beep, and the lights turned green you started to move. 

You drove over to the number 1 spot, and got off your bike. You quickly put your hands up in the air and then ran to your team. You quickly hugged your team principal. As you hugged him you quickly thanked him. You then had to run off to the cool down room. Once it was time for you to go on the podium you walked out of the room and walked over to this lift, where they would lift you and your bike on to the podium. As you were being lifted you couldn't contain your smile, this was your first win at your home race. You have won a couple races in this season, but winning at home would always be a different feeling. You felt on top of the world. No one could wipe that smile off your face. Right? Once you got handed your trophy you raised it high in the air, with the biggest smile on your face. Once everyone else got their trophy you all three quickly put them down and grabbed the champagne. You then all started to spray each other, you ran over to your team principal to spray some on him as well. Eventually they stopped spraying. You wiped the champagne off your face and set the bottle down and picked your trophy backup. 

You were now back in your team paddock, you were talking to one of your teammates when you looked up and you saw someone you thought you would never see, see in person ever again. Your father, mother, brother and sister all stood in front of you. Your teammate knew that you didn't have the best relationship with your family. Before he left, he patted your back and told you that he would be over in his room if you needed him. You didn't know what to do so you just nodded. You just stared at them, not knowing what to do or what to say. 

“Y/n, sweety. You did amazing.” Your mother said. 

“Yeah… thank you..” You said. You were starting to feel overwhelmed. 

“Mom, dad, we should let her breathe, let Max talk to her.” Victoria whispered. 

You were starting to tear up, but once the other three left and it was just you and Max you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You were both angry and sad.

“Why are you guys here?” You had asked Max.

“y/n- I, we wanted to apologize.” 

“Well don't you think you are about 6 years too late.” You said. You were starting to get more angry than sad. 

“I know y/n and I'm sorry, we shouldn't have ever treated you like that. We should have apologized years ago.” he said while taking a few steps closer to you. You didn't move.

“Why?! Max, why?” you said. “I wanted a family, a brother who loved me, but all you guys did was tear me down.” You started to cry even more. Your anger is now turning into sadness. “What did I do to make you guys hate me so much?” 

Max’s heart broke at what you were saying. He quickly moved over to you and hugged you. He was expecting you to push him back or hit him. He wasn't expecting you to hug him back. “I'm so sorry y/n I'm so sorry.” He kept repeating. You started to take a deep breath. Trying to calm yourself down.

“Max, I want to forgive you guys, or at least you and Victoria.” You started to say. “You guys were also just kids, mom and dad on the other hand, i think it's going to take a while to forgive them.” 

This was the last thing Max had expected. He was not expecting you to forgive him so easily. “I promise y/n I’ll do better, I'm the big brother. I'm sorry I wasn't better at it until now.” He told you, tears now falling down his face. You smiled up at him and wiped his tears away. “It's ok, I trust you to change Max.” He smiled back at you.

“Can you bring in Victoria? I want to be able to talk to her as well.” He told Max. He quickly nodded and ran to go get Victoria. Once you saw her you both ran to each other and gave each other a hug. You couldn't remember the last time you two have hugged, all you knew is that it's been way too long.  

“Y/n im so sorry, I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you, i'm your big sister that's my job.” She told you. You couldn't help yourself. “You are only 7 minutes older than me V.” You had told her. She couldn't help but smile more, and she hugged you tighter. You saw Max standing awkwardly at the door. You motioned for him to come closer. You then all hugged each other. After a few minutes of silence you started to speak.

“I think I'm ready to talk to mom and dad.” You said. “But I want both of you to be here.” They both looked at each other and nodded. Max then went to get your parents. You then saw both your parents walk through the door. You didn't know what to do. You haven't seen or spoke to your parents in years. Victoria sat down on the couch with you, you heard hushed whispers behind the door. The door then opened, Max was at the front and you could see your mom, Sophie and your dad, Jos standing behind Max. You didn't know what to do, your parents stood in front of you. They tore you down, made you believe you aren't worth anything, that women couldn't be in moto sports. You saw your mom walk towards you. You didn't know what to do, you didn't know what she was going to do. Your dad stayed a few steps behind her. Max was on the side waiting just in case anything would happen. 

“Oh sweety, you look amazing. You did a great job on the race! I'm so proud.” You never thought that you would hear those words come out of her mouth. All you wanted as a little girl was to hear that your parents were proud of you. She went to sit down next to you, but you moved away. You weren't ready to be this close to her yet. Your father looked like he didn't want to be here, that he would rather be somewhere else. Typical Jos. You thought to yourself. Sophie understood why you wouldn't want to be close to her, that it would be hard for you to forgive her and Jos. 

“Mom, dad….. I don’t think I'm ready to forgive you just yet. I think that you have to prove that you changed, or are willing to change.” You said, while looking down at your hands picking at your nails. 

‘Of course honey, I promise that we have changed.” Your mother quickly said. Jos was still standing, with his arms crossed over his chest. “Can we go to dinner tonight?” she suggested. 

“We can do that.” you said, while looking up at Jos, waiting for what he would say. 

“I would love to.” Jos said. You looked next to you at Victoria and then up at Max and smiled. Maybe they were going to change. Maybe now my family is going to be my safe place. 

I hoped you guys liked this! If you did please let me know! Sorry if everything doesn't make sense. I don’t know much about MotoGp, but I tried my best!!

It would be greatly appreciated if you would like, comment and repost!! 

© 2023 on tumblr apollosdaydreams do not translate/remake/repost my works in any platform without authorized permission.

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: Love Takes Center Stage

Request: I would love a behind the scenes kinda imagine for Harry x reader but really thomas x reader

Reader: Female

Word count: 1759

Average reading time: 6 min 25 sec

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The lights on set shined brightly, casting a golden hue over the entire area as the crew prepared for another day of filming Descendants 3. The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with the excitement and chaos typical of a major film production. Cameras were being adjusted, lights were repositioned, and makeup artists were applying final touches to the actors. Amid this organized frenzy, Y/N stood in front of a large vanity mirror, adjusting her costume, a shimmering pink dress that perfectly fit her character, C/n, the younger sister of Audrey. The dress glittered under the lights, each sequin catching the golden rays and reflecting them in a dazzling display. It was a breathtaking piece, designed to captivate, just like her character.

Y/N’s heart raced with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This was her first major role, and the importance of the moment was not lost on her. She couldn’t wait to dive into her character and the storyline, bringing C/n to life on the screen. Her hands were slightly shaky as she smoothed down the fabric of her dress, taking deep breaths to steady herself.

“Y/N, ready for your scene?” the director called out, his voice cutting through the noise of the set.

Taking a final deep breath, Y/N nodded, her reflection in the mirror showing a determined and focused young woman. She walked over to her mark, feeling the eyes of the crew on her. Her character, C/n, was supposed to fall in love with Harry Hook, played by the ever so charming Thomas Doherty. As she took her place, she glanced over at Thomas, who was already in character, twirling his hook with a mischievous grin.

“Ah, there she is.” he drawled in his thick Scottish accent, eyes glinting with amusement. “Ready to be charmed, lass?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Harry.” she replied, trying to channel C/n’s mix of confidence and vulnerability.

The scene began, and Y/N’s character, C/n, and Harry exchanged playful banter. Harry was relentless in his teasing, calling her “lass” with that signature smirk of his, making her character blush and stammer. Y/N threw herself into the role, her heart pounding as she matched Thomas’s energy. Their chemistry was undeniable, and the scene sparks with tension and flirtation.

Off-screen, it was a different story. During breaks, the dynamic between Y/N and Thomas shifted from their characters' playful antagonism to a genuine connection. Thomas, ever the gentleman, never missed a chance to make Y/N feel special. He would saunter over, his smile warm and inviting, his eyes filled with a kindness that contrasted with Harry Hook’s roguish charm.

“How’s my favorite princess doing?” he’d ask, his voice low and velvety, sending shivers down her spine.

“Just trying to keep up with you, Thomas.” Y/N replied, feeling her cheeks heat up under his intense gaze.

“You’re doing more than just keeping up, love.” he murmured, his blue eyes locking onto hers. “You’re stealing the show.”

Y/N laughed, trying to play it cool, but Thomas’s intense gaze made her heart race. He had a way of making her feel like she was the only girl in the room, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. His presence was magnetic, and she found herself drawn to him both on and off set.

Between takes, they would sit together, sharing stories and jokes, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the bustling set. Thomas was a natural storyteller, his animated expressions and playful gestures keeping her entertained and captivated. He spoke about his home in Scotland, his love for acting, and his dreams for the future. In return, Y/N opened up about her own journey, her aspirations, and the challenges she had faced to get to this point.

Their conversations flowed effortlessly, the connection between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Y/N found herself looking forward to their scenes together, not just for the thrill of performing but for the chance to spend more time with Thomas. He had a way of making her feel at ease, his confidence and charm boosting her own.

During lunch breaks, Thomas would sit beside Y/N, making her laugh with his witty jokes and stories. He had a way of making even the most dull stories sound hilarious and captivating. Today was no different.

"You won't believe what happened this morning." Thomas said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he sat down next to her.

Y/N looked up from her sandwich, intrigued. "Oh, do tell. You always have the best stories."

Thomas grinned. "So, I was in the makeup trailer, right? And the makeup artist had this giant jar of glitter. I mean, we're talking enough to cover an entire parade float."

Y/N laughed. "Oh no, what did you do?"

"I may or may not have accidentally-on-purpose knocked it over." Thomas said, winking. "Let's just say, the whole place looked like a unicorn exploded. And poor Jeff, he was not amused."

She giggled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're terrible, Thomas. Poor Jeff indeed."

Thomas leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting." He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The small gesture made her heart race.

-----

One evening, after a long day of shooting, Thomas found Y/N sitting alone, reading her script. The set was quiet, the crew having wrapped up for the day. He approached her quietly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Mind some company, princess?" he asked softly.

Y/N looked up, her heart skipping a beat at the endearing nickname. "Not at all," she replied, smiling.

Thomas sat beside her, his presence warm and comforting. "You know, Y/N, you’ve got this incredible spark." he said, his voice sincere. "Both on and off screen. It’s impossible not to be captivated by you."

She blushed, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you, Thomas. That means a lot coming from you."

He reached out, taking her hand in his. "I mean it, love. You’re not just charming Harry Hook. You’ve completely enchanted me as well."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. "Thomas, I..."

He leaned in, his lips brushing gently against hers in a tender, sweet kiss. It was soft, yet filled with a promise of more, leaving Y/N’s mind spinning and her heart pounding.

When he pulled back, he smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you, princess."

She smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "I'm glad you did."

From that moment on, Thomas made it his mission to win her heart completely. He’d surprise her with little notes and flowers, each one more thoughtful than the last. One morning, she found a single rose on her chair with a note that read, "Thinking of my beauty, always. - T."

Later that day, during a break, Thomas approached her with a playful grin. "Did you like your surprise?"

Y/N held up the note, her smile wide. "It was perfect. Thank you."

Thomas chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Just wait. I've got plenty more up my sleeve."

His flirty comments were always accompanied by that charming smile, the one that made her heart flutter. He was relentless in his pursuit, but in the most delightful way. Each day, Y/N found herself looking forward to their moments together more and more, feeling the walls around her heart crumble piece by piece.

And as they continued filming, their on-screen chemistry only grew stronger, reflecting the blossoming romance off-screen. Each scene they shared filled with an energy that had everyone on set buzzing. The crew often voiced their opinions on how their performances felt so real, not realizing just how true that was.

During a particularly intense scene, Thomas couldn't help but sneak in a real kiss, catching Y/N off guard but making the moment even more genuine. When the director yells cut, he pulls her close, his forehead resting against hers. "Couldn't resist." he whispered, his breath warm against her lips.

Y/N blushed, unable to hide her smile. "I noticed." she teased.

By the time the movie wrapped up, Y/N knew she had found something truly special with Thomas. Their days were filled with laughter, stolen glances, and sweet moments that made her heart race. 

After their final shoot, Thomas found Y/N in her trailer, packing up her things. Without a word, he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "You know, I'm going to miss this." he murmured, his lips brushing the nape of her neck.

She leaned back into him, closing her eyes. "Miss what?"

"Being on set with you, watching you work your magic." he said softly, kissing just behind her ear, making her shiver. "But mostly, I'll miss having an excuse to see you every day."

Y/N turned in his arms, looking up at him with a smile. "Who says we need an excuse?"

Thomas grinned, lifting her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her bridal style. "Exactly what I was thinking." he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Thomas! Put me down," she laughed, playfully hitting his shoulder.

"Not a chance," he replied, spinning her around. "This is way too much fun."

They both laughed, the sound echoing through the trailer. When he finally set her down, he kept his arms around her, his expression turning serious. "Y/N, I've been thinking... Now that the movie is over, maybe we could go on another adventure. Just you and me."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. "You mean it?"

"Absolutely." Thomas said, taking her hand in his. "Ready for our next adventure, love?"

"Always." Y/N replied, smiling up at him, her eyes shining with happiness.

As they walked away hand-in-hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like she was living a fairy tale. Thomas stopped abruptly, turning to face her. "One more thing." he said, his tone teasing.

"What?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

He leaned in close, his lips hovering just above hers. "I love you." he whispered before capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, sealing his words with a promise.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N looked up at him, breathless and beaming. "I love you too, Thomas."

With Thomas by her side, she knew it was only the beginning of their happily ever after. As they walked away, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of contentment wash over her. She had found her prince, and their story was just beginning.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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Requested by: Anonymous

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

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Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 3)

Pairings : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Word count : 2.3k

Warnings : spoilers for s1-5, heavy angst, foul language, canon level violence, mentions of pregnancy, canon character death.

A/n : this series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warning for each part before continuing.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The next morning Y/n got into the Impala with Sam and Dean while Cas rode with Ellen and Jo. The place was empty. No people, no signals no EMF. Dean put the car in park and they all got out. They met up Ellen and Jo but Cas was nowhere to be found.

"Where did he say he was going again?" Sam asked.

"He said the place is flooding with reapers." Ellen replied.

"Wow we've already lost the angel up our sleeve." Dean commented.

"You think Lucifer got him?" Sam wondered aloud.

"Beats me." Y/n shrugged.

Soon there were demons swarming up the place. The first person to notice them was Jo. She stopped walking when she heard a female voice say.

"Hello boys, Y/n."

"Meg the bitch." Y/n smiled at her as if she was greeting an old friend.

"Damn I missed the attitude, babe." Meg smiled cunningly.

"Wish I could say the same." Y/n retorted.

"You made a mistake coming here, Sam. He's here. And he'll make you say yes." Meg snarled.

"You wish, bitch." Y/n shot at Meg and she groaned. A few demons came out of from buildings and Sam and Ellen shot at them. Dean was hovering behind Y/n just to be sure she's safe.

"You're gonna regret that." Meg said as she waved her hand around and loud growl was heard. Followed by another. Dean's eyes widened as he stared at the ground. He couldn't see it but he knew. Hell everyone knew. Hellhounds. Sam and Ellen shot at it and ran backwards. Dean almost seemed frozen at his spot and Y/n pushed him away putting her body in between him and the Hellhounds. She felt teeth on her calf and screamed in pain but then Jo shot at it. And he left Y/n's leg and ran after Jo. The Hellhound tore at Jo's body. The four of them grabbed Jo and ran into the hardware store.

Y/n and Ellen immediately grabbed as many bandages as they could to stop Jo's bleeding. Sam and Dean poured salt over doors.

"You shouldn't have done that, what were you thinking?" Y/n said as she pressed up a cloth against Jo's stomach.

"It was coming after you, it would've taken you." Jo replied meekly.

"You..just stop talking okay." Y/n felt like she was hyperventilating. Jo was like her little sister, She was supposed to protect Jo. Not the other way around. "You're gonna be okay yeah." Y/n's hand shook as she tried to stop Jo's bleeding.

"Y/n you're bleeding." Sam whispered.

"Shut up Sam." She intended to snap at him but her voice came out as a whimper.

"Y/n." Ellen called out. "You're bleeding. Let Sam patch you up." Her voice held such authority that Y/n couldn't defy.

Y/n slumped against the counter and let Sam wrap bandages over her wound. The gash wasn't as deep as Jo's but it was pretty deep and it bleed profusely.

"Hey look at me." She heard Sam's voice. "Not your fault okay?" He made sure she heard him. "You hear me? It's not your fault." She nodded halfheartedly.

"Sam's right. It's no ones fault. We came here to fight and if we go down, we go down fighting." Ellen said looking at y/n.

Dean hasn't spoken a word. He couldn't. He couldn't even bear to look at y/n. She's is pain because he was caught off guard. He looked at her face, tear stricken and sweaty. Blood seeping through her jeans where the Hellhound bit her calf.

"You have to get out of here." Jo mumbled lowly.

"We need to get out here." Y/n snapped.

"Cmon y/n i know I'm not making it out of here. My guts are all spilling out and we're barely holding them with bandages. How far do you think we can go."

"Jo please."

"Do you have any other plans?"

"What're you thinking?" Dean asked and y/n looked at him with a you-better-not-be-serious look.

"They're not going anywhere those Hellhounds, they have your scents forever and you can't outrun them. We're in a hardware store, perfect place to make bombs."

With a heavy heart they all agreed on Jo's plan. She was going to stay there, they'll get the hellhounds to get inside and then she'll blow herself up along with those filthy dogs. Sam and y/n prepared the bombs while Dean and Ellen placed them throughout the store, placing a wire on them to connect them all. Dean placed the detonator in Jo's hand and she took it with weak hands. Dean leaned and connected his lips with hers. Y/n wished she didn't witness it but that was Jo's last kiss and Y/n couldn't really hate it since she and Dean are nothing. Never were.

Ellen sat beside Jo and Sam gaver her a look.

"Someone has to let them in. I'm not leaving my daughter alone. Go."

A few minutes pass as the three of them left the store the place blew up in pieces. The trio watched as the large flames erupted and y/n let out sob which made Sam pulled her into him.

"Let's go." Sam helped y/n run as she was limping due to her wound.

They found Lucifer at the cemetery where he was supposedly performing a ritual to awaken Death. And Dean shot him with the Colt. Straight into his head. Lucifer fell onto the floor and the trio watched in anticipation. But then he got up and the bullet fell from his forehead.

"It doesn't work on me guys I'm an angel remember?" Lucifer said turned back to what he intended to do. He awakened Death.

Before they knew it Dean, Sam and y/n were zapped to Dean's car. They drove back to Sioux Falls.

"Cas can you heal her?" Sam asks from the front seat. Cas nodded and placed a hand on y/n's calf and the wound was gone.

"Thanks Cas." Y/n said quietly.

"We need to talk. When we get back." Cas looked at y/n and she nodded.

"What is it?" Dean asked from the drivers seat.

"Nothing that concerns you."

The drive was exhausting as they were all barely awake when they reached Bobby's house. The four of them walked inside and Bobby understood it didn't go well from their lack of enthusiasm and not to mention two members missing. Y/n walked to the garage and sat on the hood of one of the cars.

"Do you know or I'm going to be the one to tell you.?" Castiel stood beside her.

"I had my suspicion but you're gonna have to confirm or deny." Y/n whispered.

"It's true." Castiel answered. "You have be careful Y/n. Very careful." He warned. "If i hadn't healed you back there you could've.."

"I know Cas thank you." She whispered as the tears dropped down her cheeks. "Hey Cas."

"Huh?"

"Can you please keep it to yourself, not tell a soul?" Y/n asked him hoping he'd say yes.

"You don't want to tell your friends?"

"No"

"And the father?"  She shook her head. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

The next day Sam and Dean decided to hit the road. They can't keep waiting here and hoping that some miracle is going to happen and the apocalypse will be stopped.

"Y/n c’mon we've to leave in ten." Sam banged on her door.

"Leave me the fuck alone Sam, I'm not going anywhere." She yelled back.

"What why?" Sam asked.

"Come on in." She told Sam. Sam walked inside to see a pile of blankets. And from under the heap a head was peeking.

"What's gotten into you?" Sam said sitting beside her.

"I'm mourning." She mumbled from under in the blankets.

"Okay and?"

"And I can't do this anymore, Sam." She sat up let the blankets fall off of her. "I'm tired and I'm exhausted. Sam it never stops, the nightmares, the deaths, the terrors. Im losing myself here Sammy." Tears pooled in her eyes and before she knew it she was full on sobbing in Sam's arms. "I hate being weak, i hate that you have the weight of the world on your shoulders and here i am pathetically crying to you that my life sucks." She sobbed.

"Hey hey hey...look at me, where's all this coming from?" Sam asked in distress.

"I can't save anyone Sam, I had made peace with knowing that revenge wouldn't make it all right but then I met you guys and I stayed, and once we killed Azazel I thought it'll be over, but it never stopped. It's taken so much from us Sam, I lost my parents, your mom, John, Ash. Ellen, Jo I can't even...." She sobbed and Sam tried his best to calm her down.

Sam heard heavy footsteps approaching and he knew Dean was coming up to her room. He hoped his could brother help because clearly he wasn't able to. Dean burst into the room and he saw a mess of tears on Sam's shirt, a sobbing y/n in his arms. He kneeled in front of her.

"Sweetheart look at me, hey.." Dean pulled her away from Sam and made her look at him. "What's wrong darlin'?" He took a seat beside her.

Y/n just shook her head and kept crying, he pulled her closer to his chest and hoped she'd calm down, his heart was breaking into a million pieces. The love his life was a mess and he couldn't do shit to make her feel better.

"Sammy can you grab her some water please?" Dean asked and Sam left the room quietly. "Baby hey, cmon angel look at me please." He made her look at him. "Hey tell me what's wrong baby you're breaking my heart here." Dean asked as softly as he could.

"Everything is wrong Dean... there's nothing left anymore."

"Hey now don't say that, it's not like its the end of the world." He tried to joke but she didn't even smile, her face set in a frown. "You're scaring me now, you know?" She pulled herself away from him.

"Why're you even here Dean?" She asked quietly.

"I'm here because I love you. And it's ripping me apart to see you like this." His words sent a shiver down her spine. The words she desperately wanted to hear for so long but now it felt too late.

"Why now, Dean? Because it's the end of the world?" She asked.

"No because I'm tired of running. I love you. I need you, and I'd be damned if I let you go ever again."

"I love you too Dean." This was the first time either of them had openly acknowledged their feelings. But she knew she couldn't tell it to him yet. The news.

"It's the end of the world." She mumbled.

"It's not. We've got time. I promise."

"You're not thinking of anything stupid are you?" She stared at him. Sam came in back with a bottle of water.

"Define stupid." Dean asked.

"Micheal stupid." she turned to Sam, "did you go to a damn well to get me water?"

"Shut up." Sam replied with an eye roll. "Yeah Dean are you thinking of Micheal stupid?"

"No i promise I'd rather die than say yes to that asshole."

"Guys i... i don't want go."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"I don't think I...I don't want to be a hinderance to you two."

"That's a load of shit you know that right?" Sam said nodding his head at her.

"Sam no seriously. I'm not in the right state of mind. Apart from you two and Bobby, Jo and Ellen were my family. I guess I'm pretty shaken up from what happened to Jo. Part of me feels it was my fault and i just can't....I'll be more trouble than help to you two." Dean took her hand in his and squeezed it.

"I understand I guess. You take your time okay?" He said softly.

"Sammy?" Y/n asked looking up at him.

"Rest up kiddo." He kissed her forehead. She smiled and hit his chest.

"You're two months younger than me you giant." She giggled.

"You two are annoying." Dean rolled his eyes playfully.

"Look who's talking." Sam replied.

"Bitch" Dean said.

"Jerk." Sam replied.

"Whores." Y/n dropped in. The two of them looked offended and she giggled.

"Promise you'll take care of yourself?" Sam asked.

"Promise Sammy." She replied. "Before you go, can you get me my bag and my gun. Its in the trunk of the Impala."

"Sure." Sam asked Dean for the keys and he tossed them to him.

Dean's lips were on hers as soon Sam left the room. He grabbed her by waist and pulled her as close as he could. His other hand went to grab her neck. He kissed her as if his life depended on it.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna miss you." He pulled away for air. "Gonna miss these pretty lips and all the pretty noises you make for me." He pecked her lips over and over.

"I'm gonna miss you too. Come back safe yeah?" She pecked his lips.

"Yeah, you take care of yourself for me." Y/n nodded as Dean made his way towards the door. He was almost out if the door when he came back and pressed his lips her once again. "God I love you."

"Mhm i love you. Now go." She pushed him lightly. She heard his footsteps getting further away and heard him say something along the lines of 'what took you so long' to Sam, she assumed. Sam came back with her things and bid her goodbye as he left.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @queensilber

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

(im)perfectionist

vinny hong x jo!reader

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 1

part 2

pairing: vinny hong x jo!fem!reader

warnings: SFW, fem!reader, gifted!reader, cursing, mentions of blood & violence, mentions/flashbacks to vinny's shitty childhood. jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), physical descriptions (resemblance to jay, jay's mother, heavily implied asian features) intelligent!reader, female rage, implications of academic pressure, middle child trauma, second person's pov (you, you're, your), ANGSTY, lowkey self-indulgent, SPOILERS everywhere, includes momma bear vinny but then reader is also kind of a momma bear, reader is NOT yumi, but yumi still exists here. lmk if i forgot anyth

note: i can't stop tossing and turning while reading s4 lol this is how i cope. vinny pls come back now im bawling my eyes rn

—

None of the recontres you had with Vinny Hong in the entirety of your life was normal.

The first time you encountered him was when you accidentally bumped into him in a vulnerable state while walking home under a light rain shower after a tiring day volunteering at the hospital your parents were working in. The light pouring rain hit your umbrella with soft thuds as you were finding your way through the alley you accidentally passed by after taking an alternative route, but getting a little lost in the process.

You shuddered when you heard a groan. You immediately looked around and kept your guard up in case it was a kidnapper. But no, it sounded like one of pain. Stopping your tracks and pulling over your feet, you looked around the alley. Your eyes expectantly scanned until your eyes found the source of the grumbling noise. There he was, slumped against the wall.

I knew it. you thought.

It was a man. How cliché. His head was bowed down so he couldn't see you.

Let me guess, a high school boy was mobbed and injured somewhere and now is left to die in a dark alley to be found lifeless once the sun rises?

You scoffed. If only you had all the time in the world to be a delinquent, that will most likely be where you're meant for. These high school boys are wasting their lives when they unknowingly have the time to choose to be a better person. You discreetly envied how these kinds of people can still choose how they'll live their lives—regardless of presence of sense for separating actions between good and bad.

And so you walked past the alley.

Your steps slowed down as the man groaned again, this time followed by a rustle. A slight pang of guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. Damn it, this wasn't–

You reluctantly looked back to where the man sat. You've always sworn your life you wouldn't meddle in anything that wasn't your business. But for some reason, the guilt of having the ability to help but refusing to, drowned your fixed principle.

Just as you were having an inner banter with yourself, your feet made the decision for you instead and took you to him. You pushed the button on your umbrella to automatically close it, pointing the sharp end to the stranger. You weren't even sure if he's still alive because he suddenly quieted down after that last groan. Only the light from the nearest post gave you an unclear sight of the man and the fluff of his fiery red hair.

One of his hands fell limp on the floor while the other was covering his wound. It seemed like he's been in the same spot for minutes yet the distinct bright colour of fresh blood told you the injury happened not very a while ago. You weren't sure of how to approach him properly, so you lightly kicked his leg once, but he didn't respond. So you kicked him for the second time, this time, harder. Finally, he responded by quietly groaning in pain once again.

“Who… the hell… are you…?” He weakly questioned as looked up to squint and take in your face, but your figure was against the light from the lamp post, so your silhouette was the only thing he's capable of registering. Even when in pain, his voice still sounded atrocious. Like he's someone used to speaking to people harshly. Luckily, you weren't intimidated for a single bit. It'll take a lot more than harsh tones to drive you away. You've been there.

You fumbled inside your tote bag to search for your phone, “Who are you to ask?” When you got ahold of your phone, you turned the flashlight on and you got a clearer view of the blood oozing out of this stranger's side, staining his hand in the process. It looked like a stab wound, judging from the volume of the blood oozing out from the wound.

“As expected.” You raised your hand to point the sharp end of your umbrella to him once again. “I will help you. But if you attempt to do anything funny, I'll stab you on your other side, too.”

Your first option as was to call immediate professional help. As you tried to dial the hospital hotline to call an ambulance, your phone kept indicating there was no service. The signal's jammed. You almost threw your phone to the nearest wall out of frustration as you hit the side of it with your palm. You side-eyed the man behind you.

Shit. Now what? This kind of stab wound is fatal, especially because he already lost plenty of blood beforehand. It wouldn't bleed that much if the penetration wasn't deep. It might have even hit a vital spot. Calling for help now will be difficult because of this deserted alley and the continuous pour of the rain didn't help either, plus, your phone has no service.

“I don't need… your help!” he glared at your silhouette and cursed himself as he shut his eyes tightly while attempting to sit upright, enduring the excruciating pain on his side.

“You're quite obnoxious for a dying man.” You looked around to search for more resources. This is a closed alley. If you leave him here for another minute to find help, he might completely lose his consciousness, he was already limp in the first place. You were left with no choice. Your hand hesitantly reached to fumble around your bag once again until you got an OS, gauze pads and sterilized medical stitching needles.

Your mother would be furious if ever she finds out you stitched a stranger's wounds. You can only imagine her yelling, "Patients are not your playthings and the Medical field is not your playground! Who are you to perform Medical procedures? You're not even a Doctor yet!" Yeah, for sure Dra. Jo wouldn't be so pleased to find out her daughter's attempt to fix someone up. You kneeled and looked at the stranger. You needed to gain his trust as professionally as possible.

“I won't ask your name since you're clearly hard to talk to. I'm [Y/N]. I'm no Guardian angel of yours. I do light voluntary work in hospitals and I have current trainings on how to attend to emergency patients. But I'm still a high school student so I'm not yet licensed. Anyway, going to a hospital will always be the safest option, but I have knowledge about stitching wounds, at least. I'm going to temporarily stitch you up so you don't lose more blood, then we'll get you to a hospital once I find phone service.”

You surveyed his overall state, he looked very pale, although it's easy to tell that he's naturally pale, by losing a lot of blood, he's getting even paler each passing second. You were running out of time.

“Do you consent to this?” You asked him calmly through your glasses.

He breathed out heavily. You knew he was wary and reluctant. Which is understandable. But if it's not you, who else will do it? You heaved a sympathetic sigh. As you unemotionally tell him about the circumstances of his skepticality, that you well acknowledge.

“Hey, you might have a family member waiting for you at home. They would be devastated to just hear from the news that you were found dispatched and lifeless out here in the morning.” you looked around, left and right. Right now, you're the best chance he has if he wants to live. “I won't force your consent out. I haven't touched you anywhere yet and I wouldn't if you don't want me to, so I can just leave you here without me being a potential suspect of your murder. But you should probably think about the ones that didn't know their last sight of you alive was the last they'll get, ever.”

He looks at you for a few seconds while he grits his teeth, before he slowly, lightly nods. Shutting his eyes and removing his hand from covering the wound, implying that he had put his trust in you.

You checked his carotid pulse first. Just as you thought. Erratic and weakened. And then looked over to watch the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders. Shallow breathing. He definitely lost a high volume of blood already. You hastily started disinfecting everything—your hands, the tools, even the gloves. You checked his expression. You gave him a heads-up before lifting the side of his shirt to attend to the wound properly. You began working up and stitching the wound on his right side. You looked at his face once again that's being covered by the shade of the unfinished constructions caging the alley, while going through your first stitch.

“I'm sorry, this is the only option, for now. I'll find more professional help after this.”

He had no more energy left to open his mouth and reply. He grunts in pain while you were busy ushing the needle through-and-through. You asked him to bite down on a cloth while enduring the pain, since you didn't have anesthesia and he can feel every poke of the needle on his skin. You stitched him with precision with your skilled hands. Your hands were painted crimson red during the process.

This wouldn't be your first time stitching. You've done this a couple of times, but only to a simulator. You pulled yourself together as you kept in mind that a person's life is in your hands this time.

While you were focusing on the stitches, all the stranger can muster are croaky groans, as the pain of the wound and the stitches stung, so you tried to do it faster. When you were done, while wiping your blood-stained hands, you noticed how his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he was wincing in pain. He tried to look up at you again, but his sight of you was blurry.

“Don't worry, that'll be removed at once when you're taken to the hospital. What I did is only first aid, and you already lost a lot of blood so we still need to get you to the hospital as soon as possible.”

You pushed your knees to stand up and find phone signal, but before you can, his hand rose and reached for yours.

“No.” He clutched your hand to stop you. His hand was rough—and also large. You have large hands for a female, but his hand almost completely enveloped yours.

The side of your lips shifted downward while looking down at him. “When I said trust me, I only meant temporarily so I can temporarily close your wound. I didn't mean with all your life."

“Just no hospital.”

“You must really want to die.”

He gripped your hand tightly from the severe pain he's enduring. You know how much pain he's going through right now and he didn't mean to do so, so you let him squeeze your hand.

“I would rather die, than pay a hospital bill.” he weakly held on to you, falling completely unconscious. His head fell on your lap. You furrowed your brows and put his head into a more comfortable position.

Oh, so he was serious on dying?

You coming to his rescue definitely doesn't just end with a few stitches.

***

© reesespeanutbutterfuck 2023, don't forget to support your creators by reblogging !!!

always remember to put seeking professional help as top priority if you ever encounter this kinda scenario irl

[kth1fics]

Inconspicuous (M) | KTH (TEASER)

Inconspicuous

⟶ Pairing: Incubus!Taehyung x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Horror, Smut, Rated R | 18+ ⟶ Tropes: Jennifer’s Body Au, Friends to Lovers?, College Au ⟶ Teaser WC: 600+ ⟶ Warnings: talk of d**th, etc (not much since it's a teaser) ⟶ Beta: n/a (but my beauty jo @daechwitatamic looked through here for me) ⟶ Summary: A demonic force possesses college boy Taehyung, causing him to feverishly lust over unfortunate females who are completely out of his league. As his appetite for human flesh keeps Taehyung alive, you – his best friend since childhood – try everything to stop the savage butchery he leaves in his trail. ⟶ Author’s Note: Completely based off from the 2009 movie Jennifer’s Body, I have twisted a little tale of my own. I truly hope my readers enjoy this dip in horrific evil, and please leave any feedback or comments on a reblog, post, or even my ask box! Be mindful: The fic is still currently being written and is subject to change at any given time!

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

You hear the professor mention the debate with his students. He, Professor Greenburg, rests himself atop the corner of his desk as he peels his glasses from his face. The class is divided into a semicircle of chairs, each attached with a small wooden plank which acts as a desk for each student. Taehyung always fancies scooting his chair inches closer to you so he can mumble his remarks and to steal some of your notes or snacks you stuff your bag with.

“Yes, you can!” Your classmate raises their voice to interject another. “Some people are inspired by the movies or shows. Haven’t you seen any news or documentaries?”

“No, it’s not. Movies are not responsible for our actions or pursuit.” Another classmate bounces back.

Taehyung sighs softly, leaning his head against his hand as he shifts his weight. He’s counting down the minutes until your class time is up and for the two of you to leave. At this point it’s routine for the class to continue their arguments and discuss their cases. He just blends into the background and pretends he is invisible.

Dawn, a strong personality sorority sister, sits tall in her seat. Her purple pom-pom pen taps angrily when another student references film and real life being art references and imitation.

“Absolutely not,” she musters her voice up. Her sharp eyebrows stand high on her forehead with shock, “This isn’t a hypothetical situation. It’s not about ‘art’.” Dawn clarifies, “these are real people you’re mentioning. Actual life. This is reality, not a movie.”

“It inspires people and gives people ideas,” you hear someone chirp back. “Think about it, the writers of said movie or show already thought and came up with the scenario. It’s present in at least one person’s mind if you’re being technical about it.”

“And sure, making it into a movie is what? Promoting the idea?” Dawn mocks back.

The class continues to bicker and prod another’s ideas. You attempt to ration a few yourself, listening in and observing the thoughts that come out of your fellow peers. However, Taehyung remains silent. Hushed slightly adjacent to your seat. 

A resounded alert chimes from everyone’s phones, loud and startling. A few of you jump, quickly grabbing at your phones to see what all the noise is about. From your device, you see a campus-wide notification. Seems that everyone else received the same one.

You scan the words as someone else verbalizes it for the class.

“Campus curfew?”

The buzzing begins small but grows loud fast.

“All classes after 4:30 PM are canceled and will be merged online for the time being.”

You can hear the groans and moans coming from the other classes down the hall. Maybe some students are happy about the sudden transition.

“What’s this about?” You question out loud, turning your head around to see if you can find the answer from someone. Even when you turn to Taehyung, you see the disappointment of him being clueless.

“Beats me,” he shrugs.

“Is this about what happened from the town over?” You hear a curious classmate ask Professor Greenburg. “From last weekend?”

“It’s tough to say something like that is related to this,” he honestly replies. Professor Greenburg is still rereading the notification from his cellular device. “It wasn’t directly affiliated with the campus or student body, but if it were the case, it’s a precaution to keep things safe.”

“Maybe the police recommended it,” Dawn comments. “I just heard from a friend at a nearby university that they also were given a curfew at their school earlier in the week.”

You tune back to Taehyung, whispering, “What happened?”

“Didn’t someone die?”

“Die?”

“Killed,” Taehyung boldly refines. “Murdered.”

⟶ Estimated Posting Date : Halloween 2023

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[amberjazmyn]

you're only human, just a little human 💔🥹

pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader

summary : five times max verstappen should have cried but didn't + the one time he finally cries 

warnings :  j*s verstappen (yes, that's a warning), a swear word, dodgy english to dutch translations, self-depricating jokes, trauma, tears (that should have happened, sad and happy) sad max verstappen (once again, that's a warning because sad max is devastating) and a little bit of christina perri because her songs (especially human) are devastating

a/n : when i first wrote this for wattpad, i was lowkey shocked that i remembered it as well as i did when i first thought about it! don't forget to like and reblog. comment too and don't be shy to request a fic!

one

the first time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was when he had to first leave his younger sister and mum after the divorce of his parents. sophie and jos verstappen's marriage, whilst at the beginning seemed great, that 'greatness' would not last for much longer. at the ages of eight and six, max and victoria verstappen would be separated from one another. victoria staying with their mum and max with their dad as max's possible career as a formula 1 driver was something that was becoming stronger each passing day. and it was devastating having to move away from his mum and sister, little max wasn't sure why little victoria couldn't just, come with them so then max and victoria could be together with both of their parents rather than have one kid with one parent. in all honesty, it felt a little anti-climactic that jos verstappen felt like the best idea after the divorce was to split up his children however, of course, max nor victoria were able to try and stop it otherwise the likelihood of jos getting violent was very clear. and, obviously, being ages eight and six, that was not something that the two little verstappens wanted. seeing their dad get violent was never fun and it was scary. 

at first, max did cry when he was younger. of course he did, every baby cries, that's how we are brought into the world as humans, female or male, doesn't matter. crying is the only way babies and toddlers that aren't able to talk are able to let people know how they feel. whether they are hungry, tired or unwell, they will cry to let their parents or just someone know that they need help. however, because of the way jos brought up his two kids, max specifically, he would tell max to suck it up and to stop crying as the eight year old got older. telling him that crying was weak and he couldn't stand the thought of having a weepy, weak son who he'd one day want to have as a famous formula 1 driver. because in jos' eyes, formula 1 drivers weren't 'babies'. in jos' eyes, formula 1 drivers were robots that were incapable of expressing true human emotions. and that was what he was 'training' little max verstappen to become. a robot that was incapable of expressing how he really felt because the fear of his father's wrath was more powerful and something he never ever wanted to cross in his lifetime. and, in a moment where he should have joined his mum and little sister victoria in their tears, he didn't. all because of how terrified he was of his father catching him crying. even though any other parent (sophie included) would have completely understood little max's tears, jos was not that nice or understanding nor was he capable of having those human emotions himself. 

sophie felt tears well in her eyes as she picked up little six-year-old victoria verstappen. it was a devastating thought that she would be letting her eight-year-old son, her first born, away with her ex-husband, the father of her two kids. that and the fact that she truly had no idea when she would have the opportunity to see her little boy again. especially since jos had been quite adamant of him taking max with him and leaving victoria with sophie. 

victoria was devastated. she was hysterical as she watched the way her dad and older brother max could just easily up and leave her and sophie so easily. just so max could improve his karting skills. however, whilst she was only six, it was obvious that this was something to do with her dad. whilst max loved driving and cars because he was a little boy, what else did little boys enjoy as kids other than cars, especially ones that were really fast like race cars? however, this was clearly more of a thing for jos and his bruised ego from when he didn't do well enough as a formula 1 racer himself. and because victoria was so devastated, she hoped that if she cried just enough, it would get a reaction from max, making him feel guilty and decide to come back to be with her and their mum rather than leave with jos. 

however, it was clear to sophie as well as max that victoria's loud wails and hysterics were bringing jos to a boiling point. of course, if the man even tried to think about advancing at victoria over her emotions, he would wish he didn't. especially in front of not just one of their kids but both of them. 

warning her ex-husband, sophie stood firm, holding her hysterical daughter tightly, "denk er niet eens over na, jos!" sophie narrowed her eyes as jos bit his lip in a moment of tense anger, victoria still hysterical and max in the middle of it all unsure on how to react don't even think about it, jos!

"denk eens na, sofie? wat dacht je dat ik ging doen?" jos grumbled, folding his arms over one another, max trying to calm his little sister down, sophie noticing and smiling at her eldest lovingly think about what sophie? what did you think i was going to do?

"je weet verdomd goed wat je ging doen en dat laat ik je niet toe!" sophie's voice started to match her ex-husbands and it was clear the distress for little victoria was too much you bloody well know what you were about to do and i will not let you!

victoria was so hysterical and distressed to the point where the only person who could now calm her down was older brother max. so, sophie let the little girl wriggle out of her grip and rush over to her older brother who took the both of them back inside their house whilst their parents continued arguing and raising their voices at one another. 

comforting his little sister with sweet nothings in dutch and little coos, max knew why his parents were arguing. and it wasn't just because it was clear that jos was ready to strike victoria because she was crying and he couldn't handle his own crying kids. only knowing how to resort to physical abuse because maybe that was the way he was treated as a child when he cried? honestly, max had no idea why jos always got so aggravated when he or victoria would cry. they were arguing because jos wanted to separate their family and take max away from sophie and victoria. whilst it was obvious that maybe, max could get very good in karting and then later on be a formula 1 driver but, was it necessary to take him away entirely from his mum and younger sister? 

both max and victoria jumped in fear from hearing their mum scream at their father, "omdat je niet weet hoe je met je eigen emoties moet omgaan, als je twee kinderen emoties tonen, is het eerste dat in je opkomt om ze daarvoor te straffen en dat is niet oké! daarom huilt max niet meer, omdat hij zo bang is dat je hem pijn doet dat hij fysiek niet meer in staat is om te huilen terwijl hij zou moeten zijn, omdat hij gedwongen wordt zijn moeder en zusje te verlaten!" it was obvious from hearing that from his mother that jos was going to hit or discipline victoria physically for crying if sophie hadn't stopped him and that scared max because you don't know how to handle your own emotions, when your two children show emotions, the first thing that comes into your mind is to punish them for it and that is not okay! that's why max doesn't cry anymore, because he's so afraid of you hurting him that he's physically unable to cry now when he should be because he's being forced to leave his mum and baby sister!

now max really didn't want to leave with his dad without his mum and sister. this outburst of his father about to strike his little sister for crying over having to say goodbye to her older brother was terrifying. it was the first time that max had really seen it from a different perspective as it was always him getting the verbal implications of jos' wrath if he ever dared slip up and accidentally show emotion in front of his father, not the other way around. this was the first time he had ever come close to seeing what happened to him happen to victoria. and he was only eight years old at eight, you shouldn't have to worry about being struck because he was expressing his emotions and crying. no one should be physically disciplined for crying when they have no other way to properly express how they're feeling. 

expecting to hear their father to yell, defend or even do anything in response to their mum's claim, they were shocked to hear nothing come out of their father's mouth. slowly coming back to the front door, they noticed how their father just stood opened mouth, like a fish, in shock at what their mother had just yelled at him. his silence proved to sophie more so than it proved it to max and victoria that she was correct in her claims. that because he didn't know how to handle his own emotions, whenever someone else, his kids specifically, showed emotions he wasn't familiar with, he would get violent. 

eventually, sophie and jos stopped arguing and eventually, it was time for jos and max to leave sophie and victoria. and it was as awful as anyone could have imagined it. except, max didn't cry but he really should have. 

"doei victoria, ik zie je snel schat. gedraag je voor mama, ik hou van je!" max whispered, hugging his little sister for one last time in the safety of his mother's arms, victoria being picked up again by her so jos couldn't get to her if he did have another violent outburst bye victoria, i'll see you soon darling. behave for mummy, i love you!

whilst she wasn't entirely hysterical anymore, victoria still had tears streaming down her little chubby cheeks as she farewelled her older brother, "doei maxie! ik beloof dat ik me voor mama zal gedragen, ik hou ook van jou!" victoria sniffled, her arms reaching forward to be held by her older brother as max stepped further away bye maxie! i promise i'll behave for mummy, love you too!

even though it didn't seem obvious to those people looking in, max was devastated to say goodbye to his mum and little sister. it was moments like this that max wished he could cry without the fear of his own father getting physical with him all because he was expressing his upset in the only way he knew how to. he wanted to cry but he couldn't. 

two

the second time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was after he had lost a race, achieving second overall. jos was seething with rage because he knew that his son could win. he had made sure his son could win every single race however, the time he didn't win but came second, of course wasn't accetable in jos' eyes. for jos, if max didn't win, it wasn't good enough. max coming second was so terrifying for the kid that he kept his helmet on for four hours because he was so scared of getting hurt by his dad because he didn't win the race. that being the reason he should have cried, not that he achieved second place. whilst he did love to win, if he came second, it was still a good result in max's eyes however he was always scared for his dad's reactions if he got anything less than first place.  

and because of that, max knew if he kept his helmet on for as long as he possibly could then his dad couldn't do anything to hurt him. so, that's what he did. getting out of his kart, he kept his helmet on which would turn into four hours as he held his breath and made his way over to his father that was seething with rage. only hoping that jos wouldn't forcefully remove the helmet himself and then hit him. however, he didn't. he waited and waited for the impact or the removing of his helmet that never came. and he felt himself questioning why he wasn't being punished...maybe jos wasn't mad at max like he usually was when things didn't go max's way? 

"...pa? ben je niet boos?" max's little scared voice echoed out of his racer helmet as jos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose trying to contain his distain dad? you're not mad?

"niet op jou, maar ja, ik ben boos!" jos sighed, he was mad but he thought about what sophie told me the day he and max left - knowing that if sophie were to find out he had hit max again, she'd be pissed however it was quite hard for jos to restrain himself not at you but yes i am mad!

and hearing his dad say that felt strange, max felt like he could breathe. and because he thought jos wasn't going to hurt him, he thought he was safe in taking off his helmet those four hours later...

...what a mistake that was for little max verstappen. even though jos 'promised' his little boy that whilst he was mad but not at him, that still didn't stop him from reacting physically. grabbing max by the arm, jos pulls him into a more private area of the race track. and he reacts to his son's 'loss' in the same way that he always did when the little boy got lower than first. he'd kick and he'd hit the little dutch boy that was just trying his best at the life that his father couldn't do well enough but made sure his son did it for him. 

max should have cried after getting brutually slapped and kicked by his father jos verstappen but he didn't. he couldn't cry because this was something that was no longer new to the growing boy. this was his normal when he came second or what his dad labelled as 'the first to lose'. 

three

the third time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was when he won his very first podium with red bull. it was everything he had been working towards as a kid with all the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his own father that this podium wasn't because of his father, it was in spite of his father. whilst his father was there to celebrate his son's very first win, so was a very special person in max's life. this person, this lovely lady, was someone who took care of max. she would challenge jos whenever he tried to be too tough to max. when jos pushed max too hard, she would give the older dutchman a piece of her mind. but never when max was around because she knew that whilst max knew somewhere in his mind, most likely his subconscious, that jos, his own father, caused him so much pain and trauma, he still loved his dad. somewhere inside of max verstappen was a little boy that just wanted to be loved, appreciated and taken care of by his father. not made into this emotionless, robotic mad max that was only good for winning races and rage-quitting when he got anything less. all because of his rotten, abusive father jos. 

making eye contact with his girlfriend, max's smile was the largest it had ever been. he was so excited to have finally won a race with his formula 1 team. of course, if he were to start crying, it would have been absolutely acceptable and perfectly fine because it was his maiden win and usually, for any racer in formula 1 achieving their first win, it would be very emotional. and they'd cry, get a little misty-eyed, even have an emotional radio exchange in their car during the last lap to their radio engineer when it was obvious they were going to win. and in all honesty, f1 fans wanted to see their fave 'mad max' get emotional because to them, it seemed as though max was just an emotionless piece of shit. which he wasn't. but, for max verstappen, he didn't cry when he won his first grand prix with red bull. 

jumping off the podium, max's girlfriend was right there waiting, "gefeliciteerd maxie! Ik ben zo trots op je, mijn liefste!" she congratulated in dutch, her arms wrapping around her champagne-covered boyfriend as he wrapped his own arms tightly around his girlfriend's congratulations maxie! i'm so proud of you my darling!

smiling at her, max couldn't hide his excitement, "dank u schat! ik houd ook van jou!" max sighed in content as he finally relaxed, the exhaustion of the long race finally catching up to the eighteen-year-old thank you baby! i love you too!

the couple then celebrated together on their own. running away from christian and jos, mostly jos then christian but, christian did want to have a chat to the two young adults but alas, they were too fast for red bull's team principle. so, christian just gave up and let the two young adults run off together since the race was finished, max had won and they weren't going to do harm to anyone else for being in love. whilst y.n cried joyus tears that her boyfriend was finally a formula 1 winner but also the youngest ever formula 1 winner, max couldn't. of course he was happy, he was overjoyed that he had finally achieved part of his dream in formula 1 however, he just couldn't produce the same tears of joy that his girlfriend could. all because of the way he was raised by his father to believe that he wasn't allowed to cry because if he cried, he'd get hurt and max didn't want to be at the wrath of his father hurting him again. for it's happened to him too many times so for a third time, max does not cry. 

four

the fourth time that max verstappen should have cried but didn't was when y.n spoke up against jos and defended max with him standing behind y.n. it was summer break and the two of them had just returned from a sweet week off in southern italy before jos forced them to return back to monaco so max could get back into training mode for the next season of formula 1. 

max and his girlfriend, y.n, had met just shortly after max joined formula 1 back in 2015 when he was sixteen turning seventeen. y.n was also sixteen and the reason why the two teenagers met was because y.n's father was a known sponsor of red bull. and they met because her father wanted to speak to max because he had seen just how well of a racer that max was and wanted to let him know that when he was ready, that maybe he could get in contact with the team principal at red bull racing. and a year later, at seventeen, max verstappen was the youngest racer to join formula 1. and, at eighteen, max was the youngest racer to win a grand prix, surpassing sebastian vettel at eighteen years and two hundred & twenty eight days. and from the very beginning of meeting max and his family, it was very obvious how much jos influenced his son. it was very obvious that jos was the captain of the ship even though his son was getting to the age of being able to make his own decisions, jos still overlooked a lot of stuff. 

and as soon as y.n and jos verstappen made eye contact with another, it was obvious that jos disliked her from the getgo. the poor girl doing nothing wrong except introducing herself and her dad to the father and son. obviously, it was clear that jos' childish antics and unwanted and unneeded aggression was embarrassing max and the poor kid had to apologise for his father's over the top borderline abusive behaviour. all because a girl, who was the daughter of a red bull sponsor, was introducing herself and her father to the two of them. especially when it's remembered that it was a sponsor of the one f1 team that max had always dreamt of racing for in formula 1. especially because he didn't want his dad to ruin his dream that never started as his dream at the beginning but the dream of his father for his lackluster ability to be an f1 driver. 

finally, y.n's dad and jos left the two teenagers alone and that was when max apologised personally. then, after that, the two kids basically fell in love and have dated ever since then. and still, jos hates the fact that his son's attention is purely not just on formula 1 anymore even though he has proved time and time again that he is still a capable and talented driver even with a girlfriend. 

the build up to y.n standing up to jos had really started after max's first podium win and it just started brewing from then onwards. jos tried all he could to get his son's attention away from his girlfriend. it was clear that jos was bothered by the fact that max no longer paid all of his attention to his father now that y.n was in his life. and because of that, jos would try every single thing to get max's attention away from his girlfriend. it felt like jos was jealous that max was in a happy relationship and it was kind of gross and icky. 

she really wanted to confront jos that day, after max's first win but, max asked her not to. at first y.n thought her boyfriend had five heads but, max then told her that the best revenge at this moment was just for them to ignore jos. jos being ignored was what he hated the most. giving him a reaction was what he loved. so, having not just y.n but his son as well ignore him after a race was the one thing that jos hated the most. especially after max had such a good race with him winning for the first time. so, they watched from far away as jos raged at christian, who was also ignoring him, that he was being ignored by his own son because of his son's girlfriend. the two of them giggling as the rest of the grid joined them and also giggled at a full on adult, the father of the newest f1 winner, rage quitting because he was being ignored by him because of his atrocious behaviour. 

however, this time, after a race, that wasn't actually a good result for max because of a crash that had him be hit with a DNF, y.n could tell that jos was getting ready to get his son into a quiet corner to yell abuse at him. but this time, y.n got there before he did, stepping in front of max before jos could even think about grabbing his arm. this time, y.n made sure that jos knew just how she really felt about him. however, because she was still learning dutch, she said what she had to say in english because she knew that was another thing that bothered jos. when she wouldn't speak in dutch to him because he found it disrespectful. completely ignoring the fact that it wasn't for the lack of trying but because she was still learning. and, if you're australian, learning another language like dutch is not an easy language to learn when you already have such a strong australian english language. because, shocker, y.n and her father are australian but have since lived in monaco. and, for the first time, max didn't stop his girlfriend from speaking up against his father. he was just exhausted and he was just glad that this time, someone else could take the brunt of his father's abuse and arrogance. even though he wished he didn't have to be his girlfriend, he secretly couldn't wait to hear her rip a new one into his father. 

when people would try to do it when he was younger, stand up against jos, max was terrified that not only would he get hurt but so would the person going against jos. so, he would always tell people that everything was fine and that jos was just angry but he'd calm down soon. but jos never would and that would cause max to be impacted by his own father's anger afterwards. but this time, ever since y.n joined the picture and started dating max, she started to make digs at jos. of course, at first they started small but the longer they've gone on, the bigger they've become and now, this was the last straw for y.n. she was appalled at the way max was being treated by his own father. as though max was a little robot made to just be a top of the world formula 1 driver that doesn't have permission to fall in love, laugh, cry or be happy. it was as though jos didn't have children to love them but to make them into what he couldn't be. as though he was living vicariously through max because when jos was an f1 driver, he wasn't champion nor was he a winner. he was above average in comparison to max. 

and in all honesty, from the moment y.n made eye contact with jos, she knew she'd do everything in her power to change the way jos manipulated and destroyed max, making him into the 'emotionless' driver he was. she hated that she couldn't support her boyfriend when he got mad because it bordered the same anger as his father and that was scary. something that max wasn't even aware of because to that poor young man, his father's anger that stews inside him when something goes wrong, seems normal when it isn't. so, she knew she had to do something to stop jos verstappen and this was the time she could do it. just before it was clear that jos was about to hit his own son for getting a DNF not because of his son's own fault but because of a different driver that clearly wasn't paying attention. 

"...don't you even think about it, jos!" y.n stepped in front of max without a moment of hesitation as jos began his walk toward his son and son's girlfriend

obviously, this had thrown jos off, making him more agitated, "what, y.n? don't even think about doing what?" jos seethed, arms crossed over as y.n rolled her eyes as she laughed 

"you know what i'm talking about, jos. we know why you've stormed right up to your adult son after he DNF'd in a race so you can yell at him for being a failure for something that wasn't even his fault but you won't admit that will you? because you never admit the abuse and trauma you put this poor young man through all because you wanted him to be everything you weren't as a formula 1 driver!" y.n seethed out the same way, jos now even more pissed, if he was a cartoon, his face would be red and he'd have steam coming out of his ears 

for a couple of seconds, jos' mouth opened and closed like a fish before he felt like what he had to say next was of value, "what a liar you are, y.n! this is why i don't want you dating my son but he just won't let you go and i can't understand why! you are rude, you refuse to learn dutch, you--" 

"--i'm sorry but, before you continue your own abusive tyrant on me, lemme just pause your side of the argument real quick, jos..." y.n trailed off as jos bit his tongue and gulped although the look on his face didn't change - max just watching from behind of his girlfriend, jos not even realising that max wasn't saying anything to stop this as of yet 

"...you're saying i'm a liar, that i'm rude and that i'm refusing to learn dutch? well, last time i checked, i'm not the one that's rude, that falls on to you, i'm not a liar, another thing that falls on to you and, whilst to you it might not look as though i'm learning dutch, i am. however you just don't like the fact that max is in a happy, healthy relationship with someone that actually loves and takes care of him. so, anytime you hate yourself or feel insecure that you don't have a happy and healthy relationship, you go to your eighteen year old son because he has the things you didn't have in life. you didn't have wins within formula 1, you had a failed marriage because you weren't a great dad to your two children who grew up to be terrified of you because of the way you physically, verbally and emotionally traumatised them with your choice of 'parenting' and because of wanting to produce a robot which is max. you wanted your own little emotionless robot that mimics the life that you had dreamt for yourself growing up. but when you failed to have that life that you so dreamt of having, you had children, thank god you had a son before a daughter, right? thank god your first born was a son so you could make him into this little machine that doesn't know how to control his emotions when things don't go his way because his own fucking father doesn't know how to control his emotions when things don't go his way. do you know how fucking terrifying it is to comfort max after a failed race like today? he gets so mad that i think he's going to lash out at me in the same way you used to and still lash out at him when he comes second in a race and you'd hit him for not getting first because according to you 'second is the first to lose so therefore it isn't good enough'..." y.n paused but it was clear she wasn't going to stop so jos didn't say anything and just reluctantly listened

"...i'm glad that max doesn't have the same anger and impulses as you do because if max really had turned out just like you and he had hit me in a rage because he crashed and didn't finish the race...oh, you best believe i would be going straight to you and asking you why your eighteen year old son is using violence instead of using his words to commnunicate why he's so angered about the loss of a race. sometimes...you know...sometimes i just wish to see max cry his eyes out over a loss instead of becoming angry resulting in him kicking the wheels of his car. i just long for the day that max finally opens up and is vulnerable enough to cry in front of me because the fear he has to cry because of you telling him but victoria as well when they were children that crying was weak is heartbreaking...okay, fine, i get it, not everyone knows how to react to someone when they're crying but that doesn't mean it's acceptable to hit and kick them because they are upset...." y.n breathes, once again, not yet finished with her tirade but it was clear that jos was ready to argue as well so, y.n opened it up to him and included him in it 

"...okay, health lesson jos, when babies are born, when humans are born, what is the first thing that they do that is the first sign of life?" y.n asks as jos gives her an annoyed look, shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes as he didn't answer - the moment he had been given the floor to be included, he stood back and didn't involve himself, typical

"well, since you clearly don't know the answer to a very simple question, humans cry. the first thing they do that signifies that a baby is alive is they cry. if they don't cry, that's seen as something that isn't right and may suggest that the baby was born still and isn't able to be revived or many other reasons. so, when you were born, you cried, sophie cried when she came into the world, i cried when i came into the world. when victoria came into the world, she cried. but most importantly, when max was born, he cried and he possibly cried a lot because he had no other way to communicate with his mum and dad for the longest time. the only way he could get help when he needed it was to cry for his mum and dad. and because this was your first child, okay sure, you weren't sure exactly what the fuck you were doing half the time, same with my parents as i was also their first born, they had no clue what they were doing majority of the time. but that didn't mean they'd neglect me when i'd cry for their help when i needed them the most. then victoria was born, she cried too, max was a little bit older and he still cried when he couldn't fully express what he needed even though he could probably speak a little bit but not enough to actually fully let you know what he needed. and the second two crying kids entered your house, that's when you just exploded, right? that was when you decided that anytime one of your kids cried, specifically if it was max, you were going to hit and kick them and demean him. you couldn't handle seeing a crying child because, i'm guessing that when you were a little boy yourself and you were crying out for your own daddy, possibly mummy as well, you were kicked and striked and talked down to because 'boys aren't meant to cry' 'crying is weak'. well, do you know what i fucking think mr verstappen? i think you're a coward and i think you're the weak one. and i think the reason why max is such a great and talented f1 racer isn't because of you but it's to spite you for the way you treated him...."

"...sure, he doesn't know how to speak up for himself in front of you just yet but, i promise, that day will come. and when that day comes, you'll truly realise just how badly you fucked up as a parent, as a dad! cause sure, you're max's father but you're not his dad. dad's don't abuse their children, they step up and they care for their child and they make sure they get everything in this world within reason. dad's don't scare their kids from feeling emotions just because they can't understand them themselves. sure, i'm sure when i cried as a kid it absolutely annoyed the shit out of my parents, especially when they wanted to sleep but do you know what they did? what my dad did? my dad was the one that got out of bed and responded to my cries majority of the time so my mum could get the sleep she deserved because i'll tell you know, i was not an easy baby because of how sick i was as a kid, i was always being watched by doctors and nurses and always going in and out of hospitals. and it wasn't until i was eight that i stopped needing to see the doctor once every month. when i was crying, no matter if i was a baby or i was ten years old and crying because i was getting bullied at school, my dad comforted me, he loved me and he told me that everything was going to be okay and that nothing in this world could harm me again. but what do you do? you do the utter opposite, you neglect the emotions of your little boy for a little while but then the cries get louder and louder until you can no longer ignore them. so you decide to go over to your little boy and, thinking he's going to be getting a hug, a kiss and his tears wiped away, he smiles and reaches his hands up to reach for his dad. but what do you do? you hit and kick him and you yell at him for crying because that was the only way he was able to express the complex emotions he was feeling. you would do that so many times whenever max cried that it got to the point that max just stopped crying all because he was so afraid of you hurting him and yelling at him. but do you know what the real, most heart-wrenching moment about this whole thing is, jos? max doesn't really care all too much about the trophies anymore, sure, it's great but do you know what he craves the most out of anything in this world? the love from his dad and that's the one thing he cannot get because you only care about the trophies and the wins and the money and the fame that his name brings you. all he wants from his father is to be loved, jos. why is it so hard to just be a loving, caring father that doesn't punish his son for having emotions and trying his very best? why don't you understand that he's just a human being trying his fucking best?" finally, y.n had finished her tyrant against jos and it seemed as though jos had nothing to say to her even though she was out of breath and in tears and he still didn't have any empathy or remorse 

there was a minute of silence where no one said anything, nobody moved and it was as though the room went into stop mode. jos couldn't find anything to say in defence of the argument and, of course, y.n didn't find that too surprising because he never did. which was never good for the older man because that just meant what everyone was saying when they spoke up against jos was that it was true. and other times, jos would just leave the room in a rage to then go find someone else who'd listen to his whining and rage quits. however, most of the times, he'd just be ignored when those rage quits and whiny rants would occur because why do you want to listen to a middle-aged man whine and rage quit because he was challenged due to his awful behaviour? and, like usual, jos did storm out of the red bull garage which made y.n snicker. because it was typical, jos couldn't have a regular conversation with anyone without him having to storm out and sulk because he just wasn't mentally able to deal with anyone telling the truth about him to his face. 

after that whole argument that had y.n in tears, she expected to turn around and see max crying or at least a little bit teary eyed but, she didn't. he was just stone-faced and not knowing how he was supposed to react to the situation that just happened in front of him. and that just made you cry more because even without jos around him, max felt like he still couldn't express his emotions. sitting on his lap, y.n held him tight as they consoled each other after the terrible race that just was whilst jos continued to whine to those who wouldn't listen to him. 

five

the fifth time that max doesn't cry but should have, was the closest that he had come to crying since he was a little boy. by this point, he had now been with red bull for a few years, he and y.n were in a wonderful place in their relationship, he was in a wonderful place with red bull and he had just found out his younger sister victoria was pregnant with her and her partner's first baby. it was amazing news, of course it was, he knew just how much victoria wanted to have kids so she could give her own kids the life that she couldn't have because of her parents divorcing and having to live so far away from her older brother and dad. but, it was the way victoria had told him that had him show more emotion that y.n had ever seen from him. it was a sweet moment, victoria and her partner were visiting max and y.n in monaco during a two week break between grand prixs since victoria never wanted to have to tell such important news like a first-time pregnancy over the phone, she decided that she and her partner would make a little trip out of it. and max and y.n were their last dot point on their agenda but the most important part of their entire trip to monaco. not that max or y.n knew it at the time but, it would become obvious after they were told the news. 

y.n and max were relaxing on their couch in their monaco apartment, waiting for victoria and her partner when the door bell rung. meaning that they had finally arrived, excited, max jumped off from the couch, y.n following shortly after and skipped to the door. letting the wife and husband into the apartment, y.n and max led them back to the couch and put the tv on so they could have some light entertainment on in the background. 

however, it was clear that victoria and her partner hadn't come for no reason other than just wanting to hang out so, y.n started off the conversation, her dutch almost fluent at this point, "hey vic en harry leuk jullie te zien, wat brengt jullie op bezoek?" y.n asks with a little giggle as victoria and her partner smile at her and max hey vic and harry good to see you, what brings you to visit?

giggling, victoria spoke first, trying her hardest to not give away the surprise straight away as her partner looks at her, y.n and max looking at them, "oh, je weet wel y.n, we wilden het alleen bezoeken vóór de volgende grand prix van maxie," victoria smiled, trying not to seem suspicious but it was clear that something was shifting in the air as max lifts his eyebrow in confusion oh, you know y.n, we just wanted to visit before maxie's next grand prix

"weet je het zeker? het voelt alsof jullie ons allebei iets belangrijks moeten vertellen..." y.n giggled nervously as she placed her hand on max's thigh as victoria and her partner realised they really weren't good at keeping secrets are you sure? it feels like there's something important that you need to tell us

sensing that victoria and her partner harry were about to tell them something important, both y.n and max latched hands together. anytime something important was being told, it was stressful and, max and y.n needed each other's support. they didn't know what victoria and harry was about to tell them. they didn't know if it was a bad important or if it was a good important. they just knew it was important at this stage. they then noticed victoria reach for something out of her bag. that was when victoria then spoke up. 

"voordat ik je het belangrijke nieuws vertel, wil ik dat jullie allebei je handen naar je uitstrekken en je ogen sluiten..." victoria suddenly asks as max and y.n look at one another and then victoria and harry and then back at themselves before agreeing to victoria's question before i tell you the important news, i want you both to extend your hands and close your eyes

"...ehm, oké, dit is raar. vic, wat laat je ons vasthouden?" max questioned worriedly with his little nervous laugh that y.n always found the sweetest sound in the world as victoria and harry smiled umm, okay, this is weird. vic, what are you making us hold?

victoria then placed the positive pregnancy test into the hands of her older brother and sister-in-law. at first, the couple were slightly grossed out but, they relaxed when it wasn't slimy or feeling icky like they thought it would have. 

however, the more y.n started to feel it, the more she started to realise what it was that victoria had given to them to hold. only because she had taken a couple of them herself when she thought she and max were pregnant during last year's f1 season and my god, was that a terrifying time. not because they don't want kids but because at the time they weren't ready and max was going everywhere and anywhere with formula 1. there was no way that max would be able to be both a dad and an f1 driver at the same time and he really didn't want to end up being the father that jos was to him to his own future children. 

victoria gave the couple a couple more seconds before y.n just outright asked what it was, "is dit een zwangerschapstest, victoria?" she giggled slightly as her eyes were still crinkled shut as max's lip started to shake a little at the mention of his sister possibly being pregnant is this a pregnancy test, victoria?

"open je ogen y.n en max!" victoria giggled, hoping to keep the suspense a little longer until they open their eyes but, it was clear that it was a positive pregnancy test and that at least y.n knew that's what it was open your eyes y.n and max!

and, when they opened their eyes, y.n was right in saying that it was a pregnancy test in their hands. however, for some odd reason, neither max nor y.n had thought that it was a positive pregnancy test. they thought it was maybe a negative pregnancy test and they had come to their brother and sister-in-law for support since it was similar to what they had gone through last year. however, they were not prepared at all for the fact that it was a positive pregnancy test and that victoria was pregnant. 

"oh mijn god, victoria! je bent zwanger! gefeliciteerd jullie twee!" y.n burst out in excitement, her hands moving away from next to max's as she stood up to congratulate victoria and her partner which meant that max had just enough reaction time to stop the test from hitting the ground, placing it on the coffee table oh my god, victoria! you are pregnant! congratulations you two!

pulling her sister-in-law in for a hug, y.n was over the moon that victoria and her partner were pregnant. now that she thought about it, she should have seen it coming that this was the news that they were going to announce since they arrived. it was obvious that they had been wanting to tell them since they were brought into the lounge room. however, max was just shocked and silent on the couch, looking at his younger sister's positive pregnancy test that still rested on the coffee table. he had already envisioned the day that he'd find out victoria was pregnant and he always thought that whilst he'd be so happy and excited for her that he would probably be a lot more emotional about it. like, shed a couple of tears of joy that one, he was becoming an uncle for the first time but that also victoria and harry were becoming first time parents. and it was the first time that the verstappen children could change the generational trauma from their father by being better parents to their future children. 

but, what shocked him more than anything, other than the fact that he wasn't full on crying, that he was teary-eyed. this was the closest he had gotten to crying or having tears in his eyes since he was a little boy before his dad had scared him enough from crying that caused him to shove all of his emotions deep down inside of him. finally though, something inside of him made him get up out of his little daze and congratulate his little sister and partner on their wonderful and exciting news. 

"gefeliciteerd vic, heb je het mama en papa al verteld?" max's voice was soft and scratchy, as though his emotions were beginning to show up again as y.n smiled softly - glad that slowly max was feeling like he could finally stop being so scared to feel things other than anger and joy congratulations vic, have you told mum and dad yet?

"nee, nog niet maxie. we wilden jullie er eerst twee vertellen, voordat iemand anders. Ik denk dat ik het misschien nooit in alle eerlijkheid aan papa zal vertellen," victoria jokes at the end, not telling jos about becoming a grandfather actually sounded kind of funny and deserved as the four of them giggled, max and y.n shaking their heads no, not just yet. we wanted to tell you two first before anyone else. i think i may actually never tell dad in all honesty

"als we daar maar mee weg konden komen! als je niet tegen papa zegt, zit je hoofd op een spies! maar zorg ervoor dat je het papa in een openbare ruimte vertelt, zodat hij niet tegen je kan schreeuwen omdat je het hem niet eerst hebt verteld!" max giggled with a sniffle as y.n sat down next to max on the couch, her hand back on his thigh as they all giggled at max's response if only we could get away with that! not telling dad will have your head on a spike! but, make sure you tell dad in a public space so he can't yell at you for you not telling him first!

the siblings chatted for a little bit longer about victoria's pregnancy and about other things like where the next grand prix was although everyone knew it was monza. victoria also asked y.n about whether or not she and max were going to have children after not being ready this year but giving hints that maybe this year, she and max were ready. then, it started to get later then the verstappen's had realised which meant victoria and harry left just after it had gone to nightfall which meant that finally, max and y.n could go back to speaking in english to one another. whilst y.n was basically fluent now in her dutch speaking, max and y.n did prefer to speak to one another primarily in english. only saying their pet names to one another in dutch because that was just easier. 

that was when y.n also finally got a proper look at her boyfriend's face since she was so focused on victoria after the pregnancy news. that was when she noticed that max's eyes were still a little bit wet. hugging max tighter, y.n smiled and giggled, causing max to hum a noise of confusion. 

"what, liefde love?" max chuckled nervously as y.n smiled at her boyfriend, her hand resting underneath his chin now

"were you getting a little emotional when victoria said she was pregnant, schat?" y.n cooed sweetly as max got a little embarrassed, hiding his face in her shoulder as y.n giggled, ruffling her fingers through his messy hair 

"maybe a little bit but, it was because i'm so happy for her! i mean, i remember when we were younger, victoria would tell me with so much excitement that she'd make sure that she'd find the best guy for her to have children with. all so she could make sure that her future children didn't have the same experiences that me and her went through as kids..." max trailed off as tears continued to wet his eyeline as y.n cooed and smiled - proud that max was on his way to finally being fully vulnerable with her 

"...that's okay baby! i'm so proud of you for feeling safe enough to let your eyes water! sure, you didn't fully cry like you would've thought you would have when you were years younger but, this is progress. i love you, max emilian verstappen!" y.n smiled sweetly as max smiled back, pulling his girlfriend in for a kiss 

whilst he still hadn't properly cried when he should have, max wasn't too far off from it either. 

the one

the one time that max finally does cry is the moment in which he wishes he didn't have to remember or even have to go through. he was in england for the british grand prix at silverstone and you were not even in europe, you were in australia, back home. you were meant to go to the british grand prix with him since jos wasn't going either since he had to take care of his other kids that he had with his new relationship so max had gone on his own for this grand prix and you really wished that you could have gone with him. however, because of your dad's declining health due to terminal cancer, it meant that because at any moment he could pass away, you had to fly on an emergency flight back to australia to the east coast, to queensland whilst max borded a flight to england with the rest of the f1 grid and their partners. you felt like such an awful girlfriend but, max shut those feelings did, as did the rest of the grid and their partners since you left the same time for australia at the same time they left for england. all of them reassuring you that this wasn't going to be max's final grand prix and that there was still more of this season to go and that your dad's declining health was more important. it was devastating because his company was one of the primary sponsors of red bull but, that didn't mean anything anymore. your dad was dying and that was heartbreaking for everyone in the f1 world. not just because he was one of the sponsers but because he was also an f1 driver back in the day that, until this last year, had only been revealed to y.n and max. they had no idea that when he was around the ages of y.n and max that he was also a driver for f1. he never got a world championship but he was a good enough driver that he was miles better than jos verstappen and got a couple of wins and tons of podiums. racing for mclaren back in the day since red bull wasn't an established racing team until 2005 after red bull had bought the remanants of jaguar racing from ford. funny now though that he was the sponser of red bull instead of mclaren, the team he drove for. 

as you would imagine, out of the two fathers, jos and y.f.n, y.f.n absolutely adored max from the getgo. it was obvious that, just like y.n, her father realised that max wasn't an awful person like everyone in the media claimed the poor teenager at the time was. it was clear that it was from the manipulation and brain-washing of his father that he came across as aggressive and rude. jos was the one that was the aggressor and the rude one. max was a sweetheart, not too bothered really about what happened to him in a race because, to him, it was just a fun little thing that he was actually more than just alright in. max was the complete opposite of what his father wanted him to be in terms of manners, kindness and demeanour. and it was clear that when jos didn't get the results out of max that he wanted, max was punished for it. yet, he never cried, he never misbehaved, he just took it on the chin and kept on going. and that devastated y.n's father in the way that he was being treated by the man that was supposed to be his dad, if y.n's dad could even call jos verstappen a dad. it seemed insulting to call jos verstappen a dad when at best, he wasn't a dad but a deadbeat abusive father. so, after max joined red bull racing, y.n, her father and max started hanging out more and the older man started really taking care of max in the way a dad should be taking care of his son. 

it had come to the point where, max would start calling his girlfriend's dad, dad because he felt like his girlfriend's dad was more of a dad than his own father was to him. but that was besides the point, max loved y.n's dad and it broke his heart when he was told the news that he had been diagnosed with cancer. that was the other closest time of max crying. just like he did when victoria had told him she was pregnant with her first child, at hearing that sad news just four days after the joyous news of becoming an uncle, y.n and max were given the devastating news that y.f.n had been diagnosed with cancer. and, max was teary-eyed and in shock, not knowing how else to react. his voice on the verge of what it would sound like if he were to have started crying. 

so, hearing that it was now basically a matter of when not if y.n's dad was going to die, it was absolutely devastating that max had to fly to england whilst y.n had to fly all the way to australia to be with her father in what would end up being his last twenty-four hours. max not even getting to fully say his final goodbye, only being able to call them briefly for a short hour before he was called back to the paddock since he had to get ready for his qualifying race. the worst part of all was that, y.n was the only one in the hospital there with her dad. her mum had died giving birth to y.n's last sibling over sixteen years ago, the youngest sibling being sixteen years old and the rest of y.n's siblings couldn't bear having to watch their last parent die so, they didn't arrive at the hospital until after time of death for their dad had been called. and now, y.n had the worst job to do, she had to fly back to england, knowing she couldn't stomach telling max over the phone cause that was just cruel, she had to leave her four other siblings at the queensland hospital to catch a flight back to england to tell not just max but also christian, the team principal of red bull racing that her father, the main sponsor's founder had died. 

the rule was, if y.n was to fly back from australia before the end of the british grand prix at silverstone, that it wasn't good news. they said that because if she stayed then it meant that her dad was okay and she was just taking care of him. whereas, if y.n was to come back basically straight away from australia, then that meant that it was bad. and that was the hardest thing for her. knowing that she had to walk into that grand prix, at silverstone, maybe right after they've finished their race, probably had an amazing top three on the podium and then getting that all taken out from underneath them due to the loss of y.n's dad. 

by the time y.n finally arrived at the british grand prix at silverstone, the first person she actually saw was christian horner, the team principal of red bull racing. and immediately, he didn't hesitate in stopping what it was he was doing and manuvered over to pull her in for a tight hug. by this point, y.n was no longer crying. she couldn't cry anymore. she was simply out of tears. in all honesty, she was glad she couldn't cry anymore because, she felt as though she had filled that entire airbus a380 in a river of her tears. 

speaking softly, christian soothed the numb grieving girl, "...y.n, i am so sorry darling! what's the plan of action now that you're here? who's the next person you need to tell? max? danny? geri?" christian asked softly, his voice sounding light and airy as y.n gulped before slightly tilting her head to look up at christian 

"umm, i...i think i need to tell max next. he...he said that the next person after you was him...where...where's max?" y.n stammered out, her speech slow and as though she had no joy in her voice anymore like she did just days earlier 

"you want to tell max? okay, we can do that, we can find max. i think he was last seen in the cooldown room with charles and lando, we can totally get him for you..." christian trailed off, going to walk away but y.n stopped him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back 

"...wait...before you do that, what place did max come in the race? i couldn't watch it since it made dad upset that he wouldn't be able to watch his last grand prix because he was so far gone from all the drugs..." y.n's voice went quiet at the end as christian felt his heart break as he bit his lip but told her 

"...he...he won, darling. charles got p2 and lando p3. it was an amazing race, truly, if he wasn't so far gone, i'm sure your dad would have loved to have seen this grand prix as his last one. the three of them were neck and neck the whole way..." christian whispered as he then tilted his head towards the cooldown room, nodding her head, y.n let her hand slip out of christian's as he went to grab max 

max, lando and charles were relaxing in the cooldown room, lando and max on the floor whilst charles was in the seat that just happened to max's, the first seat he had fallen onto as they entered the room. making eye contact with christian, it seemed as though max could sense something was wrong since he wasn't saying anything. and because max wasn't either, charles and lando looked at each other, silently saying as though maybe, they should speak up. 

"...hey, christian, is everything alright?" lando spoke up as christian kind of jumped out of the little reverie he was in as he gulped and nodded his head

"uhh, yeah, yeah, sorry lando! yeah, i'm fine but, is it okay if i just steal max for a little bit?" christian tried to hide the urgency and worry in his voice but he couldn't and because of that, lando and charles were also alarmed 

max standing up from the floor straight away, he gulped and walked over to christian as charles then spoke up, "wait, christian, can we go with you?" charles asked as christian had no time to think before his head just involuntarily nodded up and down - allowing lando and charles to come with him and max, wherever it was that they were going 

they walked in silence for a bit, it seemed as though they were in a hurry to get back to the red bull garage. which was pretty easy for the three racers to realise but what they didn't expect to see in the red bull garage was y.n. seeing y.n in the red bull garage meant only one thing now and that meant that y.f.n was dead and that she had to now deliver that news to max. it wasn't just something known within the red bull team, this was told to all of the f1 grid so, it wasn't just max that was now feeling shocked and upset. lando and charles were silent and in shock, in less of a way that y.n was but, they were shocked. they couldn't believe it, they genuinely thought that y.n's dad was going to be fine. he was still so young, he wasn't even in his early 50s just yet. just a little bit older than christian horner himself. but, here they were, looking in the red bull garage to see y.n sitting right there, in a seat with gianpiero lambiase, max's race engineer sitting right next to her as she rocked back and forth ever so slightly, absolutely numb for any and all pain that consumed her on the flight from australia to london.

finally though, after staying silent for twenty-odd minutes and the rest of the f1 grid being called into the red bull garage, all of them shocked and saddned to see that it was indeed, y.n, and not someone else like they had all hoped and prayed it was. this was not how they wanted to end such a successful british grand prix at silverstone, having to be told that they had lost a family member from red bull racing. but, it was what had to be done and it was y.n that had to give out that news even though she hated it. 

"...umm, i know this isn't what we wanted to see tonight, especially at the end of such a fantastic british grand prix here at silverstone but, it is with the devastation in my heart that my dad, y.f.n has passed away. it was peaceful and it wasn't painful, he just slipped away as max, charles and lando made their way to the end of the race in first, second and third place. i know i don't need to tell any of you guys this but, whilst my dad was a sponsor and lover of red bull racing and mr christian horner, he was also a driver for mclaren and he adored every single one of you guys. he loved that you guys had welcomed me with the most open of open arms when i was first introduced to you guys. whether that was back when i was sixteen and meeting who would be the golden boy of red bull, max, or when i met the rest of you guys when some of you were rookies. he really appreciated just how much you guys cared about me, treating me all the same and with so much care as though i was a fragile little doll which, to be honest, i was until i got older. but, yeah, now that i'm here and not in australia, it's unfortunate that i now no longer have either parent. and because i'll also have to plan the funeral, it'll be held in australia but, i'll make sure to plan it during a break between races because i don't think i can imagine having my dad's funeral and you lot not being there..." as y.n's voice came to a halt, sniffles could be heard, as could very heavy breaths and it became obvious as to who it was 

because the other drivers that were crying like lando, carlos, charles and daniel were silent, they weren't hysterical, unless you actually stared at them for longer than a second, it wasn't easy to tell that they were even crying, let alone teary-eyed. so the only other person that y.n knew would get upset about this more than anything would try to run away because no one else had seen him get this emotional before. and, it was of course, max. no one was there when he was told that his sister was pregnant and when he teared up in the same way that no one in the grid was there when he was given the news that y.n's dad had cancer four days later when he had teared up for sadder, devastating reasons. so, no one had really seen any other emotion from max other than anger and joy. it was as though those were max's only emotions since no one else had seen max get emotional or teary-eyed in the same way y.n had those two times when max was finally starting to feel comfortable about being vulnerable. but now, he could feel his vulnerability fully start to crumble and he knew he had to get away before anyone else other than y.n could see it. it was scary crying in front of people, doesn't matter if your name is max verstappen or y.n y.l.n. it's confronting having people watch you cry and the one time he finally cries, he's too scared to do it around anyone else other than his girlfriend even though he knew in the back of his mind that his teammates in the grid wouldn't look at him any weirder or judge him for being upset that the man who was more of a dad than his actual father was had died from his terminal cancer. 

so, after getting hugs from almost all of the drivers on the grid and a couple of the other team principals, y.n had made her way out of the red bull garage and back into the cooldown room where no one else was. not even cameras since the grand prix was now fully finished, because that was where she knew max had run off to so he could finally break down and cry in peace for the first time since he was a little boy. 

and she could tell it was max that was crying in the cooldown room even though this was the first time hearing her boyfriend cry, she could tell it was him. the noises he was making were similar to the ones when he would get mad to the point where sometimes his eyes would water and he'd lose his breath. however, this time, it still sounded much different. he was full on sobbing and it was loud and it was punching y.n in her gut. it was painful hearing her boyfriend cry knowing she couldn't get there any quicker. 

finally though, her legs had found their way into the cooldown room and what she saw broke her heart more than the cries she was hearing. if that was even possible because hearing max cry was what y.n thought could be the most gut-wrenching thing on earth. what she saw was her boyfriend on the floor, his back near the wall next to charles' seat from when they were first in there after the race behind him. his knees were hiked up all the way to his chest with his face being cradled into his knees as he leaned away from the wall behind him but into the chair, one arm tightly holding his knees whilst the other one was limp against the floor. 

gently sitting in front of her distraught boyfriend, y.n pulled him in for a hug and straight away, max's resolve unravelled. his limbs unravelling as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend as he just sobbed. not caring that if his dad was watching this that he'd call him weak and a baby. he was in pain and it was devastating that he wasn't able to fly to australia with his girlfriend to be there for her when she needed him. he had never really experienced a loss like this growing up other than maybe grandparents but, they were the grandparents that died when max was basically a one-year-old so he had no memory of them. which meant that his girlfriend's dad was truly max's first experience with grief and bereavement. now he understood the painful feeling in his chest that people talked about when they had a full body cry in the same way that he was doing right now. he now understood how charles felt like since this wasn't the first time that charles had lost someone he knew. charles and the leclerc's were great friends with y.n's family, but especially her dad. so now max knew what charles felt like when the younger driver lost his own dad herve and godfather jules. it was a pain he never wanted his own worst enemy to go through. 

"...schat...i'm sorry baby, i know it's not the news you wanted to hear but, he was gone just as you guys finished the race. it didn't hurt and he actually called out for you because he could hear your radio transmissions to gp on the tv. he got scared and didn't know where you were until i reminded him that you were in england for the british grand prix and that's what he was hearing on the tv..." y.n whispered, hoping it would make max feel better but she should have known that it wouldn't have as max cried more 

"...i...i should have been there with you! why wasn't i there for you at the hospital for your dad's last days? what a terrible boyfriend i am!" max wailed as y.n felt her heart break as she shook her head and held max tighter 

"no baby, please don't say that! you are not a terrible boyfriend! even if you didn't have the grand prix on, i wouldn't have let you come to australia with me! i'm glad you weren't with me for dad's final days, he was glad that you weren't with me for his final days. i know dad was amazing to you, maxie. he truly adored you ever since he first met you all those years back when we were just teenagers. the moment he realised how shitty of a father yours was, he stepped up and took you under his wing. he loved the hell out of you my darling boy! in the same way he adored everyone in this year's f1 grid! and that's why it hurts that little bit more that he's now gone. but, we'll get to farewell him all together and, i'm glad that you'll be with me for that. i love you, okay, schat? and if you ever break down like this ever again, just know that i'm right here and i won't let you go until you are okay again, alright?" y.n was strong in her comfort for max as he nodded his head as finally his tears and wails had subsided 

"i'm sorry for crying all over you..." max whispered, sort of ashamed to apologise even though he always did because of his father, y.n immediately clocked onto it 

"...don't apologise babe, it's okay to cry. you're only human max and, that's what we do, it's what we're built to do. we're built to feel, to love and to grieve and part of all of this includes crying when we need to cry. so, never apologise for being a human..." y.n whispered back as max nodded his head and took a deep breath

wiping away the tears, y.n and max just sat in silence next to each other for a couple more minutes before charles, lando, carlos and the rest of the f1 grid joined the couple in the cooldown room. they were all equally as devastated for max and y.n that they had lost such an amazing man who just happened to be the founder and boss of the main sponsor for red bull racing. 

this was the first time that max finally allowed himself to cry since he was a little boy and it was the first time that he didn't feel weak for showing emotion either. especially when he noticed the other tear-stained faces of his f1 teammates. this was when max realised that just because he's a man, that shouldn't mean that he should be ashamed to cry and to break down because even if his father isn't going to be there to catch him as he falls, y.n and everyone else around him would be there to catch him before he even had the chance to fall. 

fin

okay, that was a bit of a weakling ending but, this took legit the whole day to write so i'm proud of myself for writing this since this isn't one that i hadn't written in a different book and it's nearly 2:30 in the morning as i finish this which isn't something i've done in a while so, i really gotta finish this baby up! i have so many ideas for more 5+1 one-shots but i just need to sift through them in my adhd brain and see which ones i like more cause i'm constantly thinking of new ones and then forgetting the old ones because i was thinking of one the other day and i think i've already forgotten it which is lowkey devastating but, no matter, i'll remember it later lol! 

[lizbethborden]

Hi again! Yeah, from your bookshelf! You seem well informed and I wanna know the type of stuff you read and might recommend. I don't even know what to tell you for my interests because I feel like I'm just begining. Sorry I'm young and dumb still haha.

#1 you're not dumb and #2 nothing to apologize for :)

Here's some books I've got on my shelves or that I've read:

Men Who Hate Women: From Incels to Pickup Artists, Laura Bates

Pro: Reclaiming Abortion Rights, Katha Pollitt

Women, Race, & Class, Angela Davis

American Girls, Nancy Jo Sales

Lesbian Culture: An Anthology, eds. Julia Penelope and Susan J Wolf

Lesbian Studies, Margaret Cavendish

Hood Feminism, Mikki Kendall

Against White Feminism, Rafia Zakaria

Sister and Brother: Lesbians and Gay Men Write About Their Lives Together, eds Joan Nestle and John Preston

Another Mother Tongue, Judy Grahn

Aimee & Jaguar, Erica Fischer

Mouths of Rain: An Anthology of Black Lesbian Thought, ed. Briona Simone Jones

Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe, John Boswell

The Mary Daly Reader, eds. Jennifer Rycenga and Linda Barufaldi

Hidden from History: Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian Past, eds. Martin Duberman, Martha Vicinus, George Chauncey Jr.

Testosterone Rex: Myths of Sex, Science, and Society, Cordelia Fine

Speaking Freely: Unlearning the Lies of the Father's Tongue, Julia Penelope

The Resisting Reader, Judith Fetterley

The Double X Economy, Linda Scott

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture, ed. Roxane Gay

Home Grown: How Domestic Violence Turns Men Into Terrorists, Joan Smith

Intercourse, Andrea Dworkin

The Trials of Nina McCall: Sex, Surveillance, and the Decades-Long Government Plan to Imprison "Promiscuous" Women, Scott Stern

The Politics of Reality: Essays in Feminist Theory, Marilyn Frye

Only Words, Catharine A. Mackinnon

Everything Below the Waist: Why Health Care Needs a Feminist Revolution, Jennifer Block

Witchcraze: A New History of the European Witch Hunts, Anne Llwellyn Barstow

Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Frontlines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture, Peggy Orenstein

Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men, Caroline Criado-Perez

Lesbian Ethics: Toward New Values, Sarah Lucia Hoagland

We Were Feminists Once: From Riot Grrrl to CoverGirl, the Buying and Selling of a Political Movement, Andi Zeisler

Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution, Adrienne Rich

On Lies, Secrets, and Silence: Selected Prose, Adrienne Rich

Feminism, Animals, and Science: The Naming of the Shrew, Lynda Birke

The Female Body in Western Culture: Contemporary Perspectives, ed. Susan Rubin Suleiman

Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza, Gloria Anzaldua

Flesh Wounds: The Culture of Cosmetic Surgery, Virginia L Blum

Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment, Patricia Hill Collins

Pornland: How Porn has Hijacked our Sexuality, Gail Dines

Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women, Susan Faludi

From Eve to Dawn: A History of Women in the World, Marilyn French

This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, eds. Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua

Seeing Like a Feminist, Nivedita Menon

With Her Machete In Her Hand: Reading Chicana Lesbians, Catriona Reuda Esquibel

The Disappearing L: Erasure of Lesbian Spaces and Culture, Bonnie J. Morris

Foundlings: Lesbian and Gay Historical Emotion before Stonewall, Christopher Nealon

The Persistent Desire: A Butch/Femme Reader, ed. Joan Nestle

The Straight Mind and Other Essays, Monique Wittig

The Trouble Between us: An Uneasy History of White and Black Women in the Feminist Movement, Winifred Breines

Right-Wing Women, Andrea Dworkin

Woman Hating, Andrea Dworkin

Why I Am Not A Feminist, Jessica Crispin

Sapphistries: A Global History of Love Between Women, Leila J Rupp

I tried to avoid too many left turns into my specific interests although if you passionately want to know any of those, I can make you some more lists LOL

I would suggest picking a book that sounds interesting and using the footnotes and bibliography to find more to read. I've done that a lot :) a lot of my books have more sticky tabs or w/e in the bibliography than in the text so I don't lose stuff I'm interested in.

Hope this helps!

[headkiss]

Hiii, could I request a Steve x Female reader inspired by the Little women, specifically the dynamic between Amy and Laurie. Reader is Nancys sister (feels second to her, like Jo and Amy) and got close with Steve when working with him at scoops ahoy, he confesses his feeling when they’re captured by the Russians but it doesn’t go well but plz make it a happy ending cos I need it hahaha ♥️♥️♥️ thank u!!

hiiii i love little women and i hope this is somewhat what u wanted!!! | 0.9k words, wheeler!reader, fluff :D

When Steve was with Nancy, you convinced yourself you didn’t like him, that you simply had to deal with his presence.

He was always kind to you, making small talk whenever he could, flashing you warm smiles. You weren’t used to him even looking your way, let alone talk to you, and then he was in your house.

Maybe it was the unusualness of interacting with him that put you off. Or—as you’d figure out later—maybe it was the underlying jealousy that he liked Nancy in a way he’d never like you.

Then, they broke up, and he was gone. You found out what happened, and you reached out to Steve, letting him know that you were there if he needed. That’s when you first realized you’d been lying to yourself all along; you didn’t dislike him at all.

You eventually started working with him and Robin at Scoops Ahoy, and he became your best friend. And you, his.

It got harder and harder to push your feelings for him away, to act like all you saw him as was a friend.

Then, the Upside Down invaded your lives again, and this time, you were dragged in. Russian codes, trying to crawl through vents, a secret elevator. All leading up to now, being trapped in said secret elevator. You had enough time in the room to process the fact that you might not get out, and as everyone else slept, you stayed wide awake.

You thought everyone was asleep, at least.

Steve was awake, looking at you through squinted eyes so that you wouldn’t notice. His stomach was in knots; he felt awful for involving you in this mess. You who, against all odds, stuck by him even when your sister didn’t. You who he’d grown to love, over time.

It was hard for him to accept at first, that he fell for none other than his ex’s sister. But, he couldn’t ignore it for long. What with the way you looked at him without an ounce of judgment.

You bury your face in your hands, lean your head against the wall behind you. Steve decides to get up and sit next to you. He nudges you with his shoulder, making you look over at him.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks.

“Can’t imagine why. It’s not like we’re doomed, or anything,” your sarcasm is familiar enough to make him smile.

“I’ll get us out of here, honey. I swear.”

“Yeah, I know you will.”

Though you don’t actually know anything about how or when you’ll get out, you do know that he’s going to do everything he can to keep you safe. You’ve never had to doubt that.

“What are you thinking about?”

He can tell when your mind is full, when your thoughts get a little too loud. He’s learned to know you better than he knows anyone else and sometimes it drives him nuts. All he wants to do is hold you, kiss it all away. But, he can’t.

He asks a loaded question, you think. Because, what aren’t you thinking about right now? You’re thinking about your family, what the last thing you said to them was. Thinking about the other people trapped along with you and how much you wish they weren’t here, only so that they were safe, You’re thinking about Steve, about all the things you might never say.

“Just, um, about what might happen if we die.”

“We’re not dying,” he faces you, makes sure you’re looking at him when he repeats, more sure, “we are not dying, you hear me?”

“Yeah. I know, I’m just scared.”

This time, he lets himself reach out. He takes your hand, laces your fingers together.

“Me too.”

His eyes are searching your face, roaming over every detail. The color of your eyes, the way your lashes frame them, the slope of your nose. Then, he thinks, if he does die, he doesn’t want it to be before he gets to tell you how he feels.

“Can I tell you something?”

“‘Course you can, Steve.”

“It’s gonna sound kinda crazy,” you squeeze his hand, a silent reassurance. “But, just hear me out.”

He clears his throat, clearly nervous. Your voices stay hushed, never loud enough to wake anyone, only to hear each other. It’s your turn to look him over, the way his throat bobs when he swallows, the hair that falls over his forehead.

“‘M not judging you, promise.”

“No, I know. Um. So, when we met, I barely even knew you. But now, everything’s different. You’re my favorite person, like, ever, and I don’t want you to feel like things have to change after this, but I love you,” your world halts, it’s just him. “I’m in love with you.”

“You’re lying,” you want to believe him so badly, but it’s hard not to feel like he only wants you because he can’t have Nancy.

“I’m not. Look at me,” he uses the hand that isn’t holding yours to cradle your face, thumb sliding over your cheek. “I know how it seems, and that the only reason we know each other is ‘cause I was with Nancy, but this is real. I do love you, and I’ll do whatever I can to prove that.”

You kiss him, quick and sweet, but the way he melts into you is enough to let you know he’s being completely honest. You lean your forehead on his.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I love you, too.”

At least, if this is your last day alive, you were able to have been loved by Steve Harrington, and to love him back.

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for a lovely anon, I hope you like it!

It is a Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace x female!Floyd!reader imagine.

Thank you @imjess-themess for proofreading!

Warnings: none

When you visited your brother at his work in San Diego you were nervous to meet his coworkers.

It wasn’t every day that you went to a Navy base because he usually came to visit you, but he had been working non-stop and had asked if you wanted to come visit.

You reluctantly agreed, because interacting with strangers wasn’t your speed.

Bob was the outgoing one out of the two of you.

You were both introverted and not keen on conversations with people you didn’t know.

You missed your brother so you took a chance and stayed with him for a few days.

Bob had missed you, and you were also very happy to see him again.

You were nervous to go out with him to a bar he frequented.

He told you that it was where he and his friends spent a few nights of the week just drinking and talking.

Bob didn’t drink, and you didn’t do so often, but you did it often enough to be used to alcohol.

You entered the bar behind Bob and he went straight for the pool table with you trailing behind him.

You were picking at the paint on your fingernails in worry as you looked around the room, seeing so many people and hearing the sheer volume of half-drunk conversations.

Bob didn’t introduce you to the group but instead moved to talk to a tall guy with a Hawaiian shirt and an unfortunate moustache, and you followed suit.

Bradley was nice and he didn’t allow you to stay quiet for long.

He was asking you questions and engaging you in kind but demanding conversation.

Bob slipped away from you when he felt you had it handled, getting a drink for himself and seeing Natasha approach him.

She greeted him happily but he felt a hint of nervousness and curiosity in the way she looked at him.

Her eyes raced over to where you were standing repeatedly and she licked her lips before she spoke up again.

“She came here with you, right? Do you know who she is?” She asked him carefully, her eyes wider and her demeanor much more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.

It was strange for him to see his pilot that way, but Bob knew how to interpret her behavior, and a smile spread over his face as he looked back at you for a second.

“That’s my sister,” he answered Nat with a hint of pride in his voice, and he could see her process the information.

Her hands closed around the bottle she had been fiddling with and she nodded softly.

“Okay,” she breathed as she looked back at you, and Bob had to force himself not to smile too widely.

He was quiet as he waited for his friend to say something, watching her carefully.

He saw that she collected courage before she spoke up again, and he was sure he had never seen her so honest and careful before.

He knew that it meant that she felt about you strongly, even if she had never seen you before.

“Do you think she’d like me?” She asked as she looked back at him, and he nodded as a small smile played around his lips.

“I think that no one could ever not like you, Phe,” he answered, and she nodded quickly.

Her eyes fell to the bottle in her hands before she looked back at him again.

“But do you think she’d like me? Like really?” She repeated her question and Bob nodded at her.

“She’s very much like me, so she will,” he said before he took a sip of his water and glanced at you.

“I think you should go find out. Rescue her from one of the most extroverted roosters I’ve ever met,” he sent her a lopsided grin, and Nat’s eyes grew wide with hope.

She nodded at him before she went to take off like he said she should, but Bob stopped her once again.

“She likes rum and diet coke,” he added as he focused his eyes back on his own drink.

Nat shot him a smile before heading straight towards her second favorite coworker, and you in his claws.

“I think you’ve pestered her long enough, big boy, let the lady breathe for a moment. She just got here,” she tried to joke, glancing at you, hopeful to see you smile at her attempt of humor.

You did smile, because of the joke and also from relief.

Not that you didn’t like Bradley, but he had extrovert energy, and he expected that amount of energy back in a good conversation, which was pretty stressful.

The pretty woman’s energy was much calmer, she almost relaxed you, even if her presence alone excited you because she was so beautiful.

Bradley laughed but he got the hint, nodding at you before he left you alone.

When you looked back at your savior she sent you a smile that filled you with warmth.

You returned that smile, if even a little shier.

“Hi, I’m Nat. I work with the guys,” she told you, and you nodded at her, introducing yourself.

You were comfortable in her presence but there was a silence before she decided to speak up again.

“I’d love to buy you a drink, if that’s okay with you,” she asked you, her eyes searching your face to make sure she read your response correctly.

“I’d like that,” you answered her honestly, and she nodded in reply.

She lead you to the bar and sat down on a stool when you did the same, turning to the bartender she seemed to know well.

“Hi Penny. A vodka soda and a rum and coke for me and the lady, please,” she asked, and Penny did as asked with a gentle smile.

You were curious and intrigued by how she knew your favorite drink, and you couldn’t help but feel heat rush to your cheeks.

“How do you know?” You asked, and received a soft chuckle from her.

She leaned her head to the side and you watched as strands of her dark hair fell from behind her ear to frame her face.

You loved her hair, it looked so soft you wanted to run your fingers through it, and it fit her delicate but determined face perfectly.

“Bob’s my backseater,” she told you, as if that would explain much.

“I’m his pilot? We’re friends too, he’s a great guy,” she explained.

“He’s talked about a ‘Phoenix’ a lot,” you answered her.

You knew that it was someone’s callsign, but you couldn’t remember if he had used it for someone who fit her description or not.

“Yes, that’s me,” she smiled widely at you before thanking Penny, who set your drinks in front of you.

“Then he’s talked a lot about you,” you said, and you were sure you caught a gleam in her eyes.

“If he’s talked about me then you know a little about me. Do you want to tell me about yourself? You don’t have to,” she said, reassuring you by reaching out towards you and setting her hand on your arm that was on the bar for a few seconds before pulling away again.

You wished she hadn’t pulled away because you missed her delicate and warm touch already.

You talked more to her than you had to anyone else but Bob, and you enjoyed it even.

Being with Natasha was comforting while your hopes of establishing something more than friendship with her were exhilarating, in the best way.

You spent the entire evening interacting with her while you usually couldn’t keep a conversation going with anyone else, but you were enthralled by her and her presence.

Nat tempted you to come out of your shell and you were happy to just be with her, until Penny apologized, telling you that she was closing the bar for the night.

You hadn’t realized it was so late, and you hadn’t realized that your brother was already gone.

He had just slipped away and left you, but he had known you were in more than capable hands.

Nat offered to drive you home and you talked the entire drive as well, until it was time to go inside the house.

You could see Bob’s silhouette moving in the living room and you looked back at Nat sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Thank you for this evening,” you told her and she smiled widely at you.

You were silent for just a second until she gripped your hand, emboldened by the alcohol.

“I’d like to see you again,” she told you, and you were breathless enough to only manage a quick nod.

Your hand turned to hold hers and you saw her leaning forwards in her seat, to get closer to you.

You didn’t breathe anymore as you leaned towards her, feeling her soft lips brush yours and her free hand cup your cheek.

You were so entranced by her that you only let out a breath when she pulled away, watching her intently and seeing a smile form on her face.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” She asked, and you chuckled at that.

“With a weapon or on a date?” You asked back, and she threw her head back in laughter.

“I guess you’ll have to see,” she winked at you, and you were so excited to do so.

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[thebiggerbear]

Writing Updates - Dec 2023

Here's what I've got currently going on amidst the holiday craziness (meaning, yes I'm working on ALL of these):

Beau Arlen x Female Reader:

The Ghosts Are Coming For You Chapter 2

Only Ever Holding Onto You Chapter 4

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #1)

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

Unnamed (TBD) AU short story

Unnamed (TBD) AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) AU Prompt Response (which is looking like it may turn into either a one shot or short story depending on how long this continues to get)

Unnamed (TBD) s3 AU short story

Soldier Boy x Female Reader:

Keep Me Inside Chapter 1

Unnamed (TBD) post-3x05/AU one shot that I previewed in November here

Unnamed (TBD) post-3x04/AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) post-3x08/AU story that I previewed in November here

Unnamed (TBD) s3 AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #1)

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

Dean Winchester x Female Reader:

Follow Me Into the Dark s15/AU short story Part 1

Unnamed (TBD) s15/AU Prompt Response

Unnamed (TBD) s15/AU one shot (that may turn into a short story)

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #1)

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

Unnamed (TBD) s10 one shot

Sam Winchester x Female Reader:

Unnamed (TBD) s14 ficlet (may turn into one shot)

Alec McDowell x Female Reader:

Unnamed (TBD) short story

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

Tom Hanniger x Female Reader:

Unnamed (TBD) post-movie short story

Unnamed (TBD) post-movie story

Jenny Hoyt x Female Reader:

Unnamed (TBD) story that I previewed in November here

Unnamed (TBD) 3x11 AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response

Anael/Sister Jo x Female Reader:

Unnamed (TBD) one shot

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #1)

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response

Rachel Gatina x Female Reader:

Unnamed (TBD) short story

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

SDV Leah x Female Reader:

Unnamed (TBD) Prompt Response (multi-character response #2)

Multiple Pairings:

Beau Arlen x Female Reader x Jenny Hoyt:

Unnamed (TBD) story

Beau Arlen x Female Reader x Jenny Hoyt x Cassie Dewell:

You Know What You're Here For (still determining if this will be a short story or full story but one thing it will be is absolutely filthy - I'm not much of a smut writer but I used this to practice with so yeah, absolutely filthy, I feel like I don't know if I need a shower or Confession or a cigarette, preferably one of the former two)

Breakdown of the Multi-Character x Reader Prompt Response Project:

Prompt 1:

Soldier Boy - Complete

Beau Arlen - Complete

Dean Winchester - in progress

Jenny Hoyt - in progress

Tom Hanniger - in progress

Jason Teague - Complete

Anael - in progress

SDV Alex - in progress

Prompt 2:

Soldier Boy - Complete

Beau Arlen - Complete

Dean Winchester - Complete

Jenny Hoyt - Complete

Tom Hanniger - in progress

Jason Teague - Complete

Alec McDowell - Complete

CJ Braxton - in progress

Anael - in progress

Rachel Gatina - in progress

SDV Leah - in progress

I haven't posted the completed ones yet because I want to post them altogether so they can all be linked together since they're responses to the same prompt.

As far as ships go here's what I've got in the works:

Beau x Cassie:

Their Silent Thunder Matches Mine Chapter 3

What Happened Last Night Prompt Response

No Warning Prompt Response

Traditions Prompt Response

Santa Beau Prompt Response

Unnamed (TBD) post-3x13 one shot

Unnamed (TBD) Halloween/AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) one shot

Cassenny (Cassie x Jenny):

Unnamed (TBD) pre-series/s1 AU one shot

Dean x Cassie Dewell:

Unnamed (TBD) s15/post-s3/AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) later season/post-s3/AU one shot (previewed here)

Destiel (Dean x Castiel):

Unnamed (TBD) later-season ficlet

Unnamed (TBD) post-15x19 ficlet

Unnamed (TBD) post 13x01 ficlet

Unnamed (TBD) AU/post-finale ficlet

Buddie (Buck x Eddie):

One Last Time s4/AU one shot (it's been in the works for the last two years at least but I'm getting that much closer to where I want it and can finally post it; we're on final approach, folks)

Unnamed (TBD) post-4x05 one shot (that may turn into a short story)

Unnamed (TBD) post-3x18 one shot

Jonsa (Jon x Sansa):

Unnamed (TBD) AU story

Unnamed (TBD) post-s6 one shot (that may turn into a short story)

Unnamed (TBD) post-s6/pre-s7 AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) one shot

Unnamed (TBD) AU one shot

Unnamed (TBD) post-finale one shot

Unnamed (TBD) post-finale one shot

Unnamed (TBD) post-finale short story

Daensa (Daenerys x Sansa):

Unnamed (TBD) modern/AU short story

Unnamed (TBD) s7 AU short story that I previewed in November here (that may turn into a story)

Unnamed (TBD) mid-finale one shot

Unnamed (TBD) s8 ficlet

Unnamed (TBD) AU Prompt Response

Bella x Jacob:

Take What You Need (possibly mid or) post-NM/AU one shot (I haven't decided which time frame fits the events better)

Unnamed (TBD) post-BD imagine

Unnamed (TBD) Thanksgiving/post-BD one shot

Other Things:

Game of Thrones story (post-finale) - contains OC's along with canon characters

The Walking Dead story (post-TWDDC season 1) - contains OC's along with canon characters

Dean Winchester x Female!OC story (post-finale)

Alec McDowell x Female!OC story (post-finale)

I'm currently outlining projects for the following:

Edythe Cullen x Bella Swan

Edythe Cullen x Jacob Black (one shot)

Rosalie Hale x Female Reader

Carlisle Cullen x Female Reader

Sebastian Sallow x Female Reader

Rip Wheeler x Female Reader

Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle (one shot)

Maribel Garlick x Female Reader (one shot)

Sam Uley x Female Reader

Leah Clearwater x Renesmee Cullen?

Sam Uley x Renesmee Cullen (one shot)

Max Goodwin x Elizabeth Wilder (one shot)

Jenny Hoyt x Dean Winchester (one shot)

Jenny Hoyt x Soldier Boy

Clarke Griffin x Lexa (prompt response to a Clexmas '23 prompt that I won't make in time to post the response to but I'm still writing it!)

Dean Winchester x Buffy Summers (one shot)

Buffy Summers x Faith Lehane