Iris Flowers

DON'T LEAVE ME

Ollie Bearman X fem!reader

Summary: When Ollie accompanies Y/n to her endoscopy. The anesthesia can make her say funny things, but also, some questions that make Ollie's heart break.

Words: 3.0K+

Warnings: Mention of the hospital, surgery (but nothing serious), Y/n under anesthesia, cute, funny, a bit of insecurity, mention of Y/n's almost profession, anguish, but romantic and happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling mistakes and slang that may be in the story. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

Ollie wasn't the type to pass up any opportunity to take care of Y/n—not even when she said, with all the firmness in the world, that everything was fine, that it was just an endoscopy check-up, nothing serious.

But for him, there was no such thing as "anything major" when it involved her.

"What if I let you go alone and you, numb, start telling me everything we do in a room? No, no! I need to be there to ensure my reputation!" He said with a mischievous smile, drawing a rolled, but amused, look from her.

Now, a few hours later, Ollie was alone in the room where Y/n would recover. He was sitting in an armchair in the corner, his cell phone in his hands, but his eyes fixed on the screen without really taking anything in. His leg was bouncing up and down, fast, as if his body reflected the silent whirlwind of his mind.

He knew, rationally, that it was a simple procedure. She herself had explained it a thousand times. But the most idiotic and unwanted thoughts insisted on going around in his head, creating catastrophic scenarios.

It was disgusting how anxiety acted like that.

The door opened with a soft creak and a friendly nurse smiled at Ollie. Right behind, the doctor was pushing a wheelchair where Y/n was sitting, her head resting on her hand and her eyes blinking slowly, completely groggy.

Ollie smiled the moment he saw her. He jumped up from his chair, his heart relieving just seeing that familiar, yet somewhat lost, face.

"She's still under the anesthesia." The doctor explained, stopping beside the bed. "The procedure went excellently, we didn't find any abnormalities, everything was clean.

Ollie let out a sigh of relief, resting his hands on his hips.

"Thank God." He murmured with a tender smile.

The nurse began to help Y/n out of the chair and put her on the bed. She snuggled into the pillow almost immediately, with that lazy and cute movement of someone who just wanted to go back to sleep.

"She may say some nonsense because of the anesthesia, but it should pass within 30 minutes to 1 hour." The doctor completed. "If she exhibits anything else out of the ordinary, notify the nurses' desk down the hall."

"Okay, I'll do that if I need to." Ollie nodded. The doctor and nurse left the room, closing the door behind them.

Ollie stood there for a few seconds, watching Y/n lying there, her eyes heavy. A warm relief filled his chest. He approached carefully, arranging the blanket about her. He sat down next to her, again in the armchair, holding her hand between his, observing every detail.

Y/n slowly opened her eyes and frowned when she saw him. "Where am I?"

"Hospital."

She looked around.

"Hospital?"

Ollie nodded, trying to hold back his laughter.

"Damn... I wish I was in a diamond castle like Barbie's and had a prince charming as my chauffeur."

"Look, this isn't a diamond castle and I'm not a prince, but I can be your private driver."

She smiled, still a little dazed, with a small smile. "As long as there's music in the car and you buy me a milkshake later..."

"Deal" Ollie said, chuckling and patting her hand lightly.

Y/n looked at their intertwined hands and frowned.

"Hey, you can't hold my hand like that... I have a boyfriend and I love him so much." She let go of his hand and ducked under the covers. Ollie laughed.

"Wow! Passed the loyalty test and everything. Wow!" Y/n made a confused face, and he leaned in with a smile. "It's me, Y/n. Oliver. Your boyfriend."

She pushed herself up a little, supporting herself on her elbows, and Ollie stepped closer to make sure she didn't fall over.

"My boyfriend? You?"

"Myself. Your boyfriend. With a ring and an apartment."

Y/n smiled as if she had won the greatest prize in the world.

"Ah... then I chose well."

Ollie's heart melted. He chuckled softly as she lay back down, gripping his hand more firmly.

"Do people live together?"

"Yes, we recently bought an apartment."

Her eyes widened. "Wow! That's really cool... how long have we been dating?"

"Let me think... about five or six years?"

"Wow, a really, really long time..."

"It's just that when I love, I stay." Ollie said with a sweet smile.

"If we've been together for so long... have you asked me to marry you yet?"

Ollie's eyes widened and he burst out laughing. "My God, you're really rude with these questions right now."

Y/n smiled, turning to him.

"How many times have we kissed? Do you remember the first time you saw me without makeup? It was horrible, wasn't it?"

Ollie laughed, confused by the bombardment.

"Okay, princess of the diamond castle! One question at a time!" He held up his hands. "Here we go: we've kissed more times than I can count, but I remember the first time—it was after the movies, you were wearing that silly strawberry sweatshirt. And the first time I saw you without makeup? It was perfect. Because you were just...you."

Y/n nodded slowly, looking around.

"Have we ever... you know... done adult dating things?"

Ollie coughed in surprise. "OH MY GOD, Y/N! You're putting me in a very unfair situation here!"

She chuckled softly. "Just scientific curiosity."

"Yeah, scientist, of course! I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, crazy doctor." He said, squeezing her hand affectionately.

"If we had a child, do you think it would have your nose or mine?"

"Probably yours. Mine's kind of boring."

"Your nose is cute... it looks like an elevator button." She wrinkled her nose, smiling.

Ollie frowned, laughing. "What?"

"Cute... makes you want to squeeze it."

"Now I'm scared you'll try to use my nose to get to the 12th floor."

Y/n smiled and began to blink slowly, looking at the ceiling. Ollie thought she was going to sleep and began to caress her hand and her brown locks lightly, lulling her to rest. But she opened her eyes again.

"Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? And that they dissolve if they get too sad?"

Ollie arched an eyebrow.

"That explains why you cry when you watch margarine commercials. You're an octopus!"

"It's not because of the margarine... it's the warm bread..."

"Of course, the drama of warm bread." He replied, smiling.

"You know what else? I once read that sleeping in a spoon position helps with immunity..."

"So we'll live to be a hundred years old."

"Yes..." She stirred happily in bed. "Or until the bones turn to fairy dust."

"That's it, love. Until our bones turn to Tinker Bell dust."

Her eyes lit up at that reference. "I remember I really wanted to be Tinkerbell when I was little..."

"Did you wish you had wings?"

"No. I wanted to throw magic dust at others and fly away when they scolded me."

Ollie laughed.

"Fair enough. Very emotionally healthy."

"I also had a phase where I thought Peter Pan was my boyfriend. Sorry, my love."

"No hard feelings. I'll just keep an eye out if he shows up in a green leotard."

She laughed, still a little groggily, and then turned around, a fond smile on her face.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?"

"Thanks, honey... do you still think I'm cute? I've been up all night and my hair is all messed up."

Y/n squeezed his hand lightly.

"Yes... looks like an angel... tired... but an angel."

"An angel on duty?"

"Exactly." She smiled, her eyes closing. "And you smell nice... like home... like my favorite pillow."

Ollie squeezed her hand and murmured, "You're my favorite pillow too, for the record."

The room was silent, muffled by a soft light that filtered through the window. And Y/n sighed, tired, her eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall.

"Back to talking about marriage..."

Ollie's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden change of subject. But she continued, calmly, as if it had been on her mind for some time.

"Do you think if we got married, we should get a dog or a turtle?"

Ollie smiled, letting his body sink a little deeper into the chair.

"Hmm... dog, but only if he likes sleeping late and eating leftover pizza."

"What if we had a house with a balcony? One of those with a hammock..."

"And a giant couch, with room for your cold feet," Ollie added, still smiling.

She let out a muffled chuckle.

"And the walls would be yellow." Y/n hums.

"I didn't approve of that, calm down." Ollie said, amused.

Y/n paused for a moment, her eyes still on the wall, and she became serious. "Okay, okay, love. I'm sorry..."

Ollie held back a laugh. It was so like her to apologize for the silliest things.

And silence filled the room again. She closed her eyes, relaxing, almost giving in to sleep. Ollie reached out and began to gently stroke her hair. The only sound she could hear was the muffled rumble of the city.

Suddenly, she began to laugh softly, as if she had heard something that only she could understand.

"Listen, listen..." Ollie looked at her curiously. "My heart is singing..." She laughed again, softly, delighted with her own sentence.

Ollie frowned and laughed along.

"Are you sure you're just numb or did you end up drinking alcohol in there?"

Y/n didn't respond, she just kept laughing as if the world was lighter. Then he hummed some made-up tune.

She opened her eyes and saw Ollie smiling at her goofily. Suddenly, her eyes widened, as if a penny had just dropped.

"OMG, I REMEMBER! You're a Formula 1 driver!"

Ollie laughed, delighted.

"Yes, and you fell in love with a crazy guy who runs at 300 Kilometers per hour"

"Have you ever wanted to honk your horn in the middle of a race?"

"Love, there's no horn on an F1 car."

"So how do you curse others?"

"With the hand and with the radio."

Y/n laughed, finding that the funniest thing in the world.

"Are you the type to swear nicely or swear badly?"

"It depends. If it's Verstappen, I'll swear badly."

She put her hand over her mouth, feigning shock. "OLLIIIEE!"

"You just asked me!"

She blinked slowly and murmured, her eyes dreamy, "Have we ever taken a bath together? Like, a real bath..."

Ollie couldn't contain his laughter and closed his eyes.

"Bath? What do you mean 'a real bath'?"

"I really do. With shampoo, conditioner and everything..."

"We've drowned in soap suds a few times."

Y/n blushed. "That sounds a lot like us."

"Yeah!"

She turned slightly in bed.

"I'm really weird, right? Kind of silly, kind of lost..."

"You look beautiful."

"You are obliged to say that."

"No. I'm your boyfriend. And your number one fan. I say that by choice."

Y/n smiled, her eyes slightly teary. "I like it when you talk like that. It makes my heart stop hurting."

"Was it hurting?" Ollie asked cautiously.

"No..."

Ollie laughed. But she frowned.

"But would you love me if I were a worm?"

The pilot's eyes widened. "A worm?"

"You wouldn't love it, right?..." Y/n began to cry silently. Ollie leaned over, concerned, and gently wiped her face.

"Hey, hey. I would love you if you were a worm, okay? I would make a garden just for you to roam free and eat dirt..."

"Thank you..." She sniffs.

"You're welcome, love!" The pilot smiles, holding back his laughter.

The room became quiet again. Ollie continued to caress her hair, and Y/n settled down, curled up, warm under the blanket. She seemed to have fallen asleep. He smiled, relieved, and picked up his phone, scrolling slowly.

But then, in a low voice, she spoke again,

"Have you seen the other pilots' girlfriends? I mean... they're beautiful, aren't they?"

Ollie lowered his phone, alert.

"Beautiful...? In what sense?"

"They have these amazing jobs, like model, businesswoman, artist... You know? And me... I'm just an aeronautics student."

Ollie looked at her, surprised.

"Just an aeronautics student? Y/n, do you realize that? You're literally an airplane pilot! You're a thousand times more amazing than any of them!"

Y/n smiled slightly, hesitantly.

"But they always seem so confident, so collected. Beautiful. Elegant. I'm just... me."

Ollie leaned closer, his voice softer, "Are you just you? Y/n, you've always been true to who you are. And that's what made me fall in love the most. You have this light... this way of seeing the world with rocket eyes and a marshmallow heart."

Y/n chuckled softly, groggily.

"Rocket eyes, Ollie?"

"Yes! You see everything with intensity, passion. And even when you feel small, you keep trying. That is much bigger than any standard."

Y/n looked at him, still with tears in her eyes.

"Do you really think so?"

"I'm sure. And if one day you forget... I'll repeat it a thousand times. Because you're my standard." She reached for his hand. "I'm here reminding you that you're perfect and that I love you."

Her voice came out as a whisper lost in the sheets. "They have blonde hair... blue eyes... haven't you ever wondered if you'd be happier with someone like that?"

Ollie felt his chest tighten so much that it hurt to breathe. This wasn't just silly jealousy. It was insecurity, raw and alive, and he felt every crack of it echo through him.

Before he could respond, she continued.

"Do you think you'll ever get tired of me? Because... if you look at it, the other pilots' previous girlfriends were just like me. Simple. Students. From small families. And they traded them for powerful women... with blonde hair and eyes the color of the sea..."

The tears flowed soundlessly. Only then came a sniffle and a whisper. "I'm scared, Ollie..."

He felt his heart shatter. The air seemed trapped between his lungs. The pain of seeing her like this, so fragile, so overcome with fear, made him wish he could take every single one of those doubts away from her and cast them away forever.

Ollie sat up straighter, his eyes fixed on her. His voice was firm but thick with emotion.

"Honey, listen to one thing: I am NOT them. And you are NOT replaceable. I didn't fall in love with you because of the color of your eyes or your hair... I fell in love because when you talk about airplanes, your eyes light up. Because you dance barefoot around the house, with incredible energy. Because you are a captivating person who wins over everyone around you. Because you are a determined, strong woman who fights for her dreams. Because you make me laugh even when the world seems heavy. Because you ARE and always will be my best friend... And because, even when you are scared, you are the bravest person I know..." Ollie held back his own tears. "Because you, my love. Are the person I always waited to spend the rest of my life with. I love you so, so, SO MUCH. These last six years that I've been with you have been the best of my life, and I know that we will still have many happy years ahead of us. Because I want to marry you, build a family, travel the world and conquer the moon!"

Y/n cried helplessly, her eyes red. "Please, don't leave me..."

Ollie couldn't keep his distance any longer. He got up from the chair and lay down next to her, pulling her gently into his arms. Her body fit against his, her sobs still shaky but beginning to calm.

He hugged her tightly, feeling her heart beat fast against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, whispering.

"I will never leave you. Nothing in this world would make me change you. Because you are my home, Y/n. It's where my heart rests. Where my laughter lives. Where I am whole. And even if one day the whole world changes, I will continue to choose you. Every day."

Y/n closed her eyes, still sobbing softly, but holding tightly to his shirt, as if holding on to a promise. Ollie hugged her tighter, stroking her back slowly.

The room, previously illuminated by light, now seemed enveloped in the melancholy she exuded. He took a deep breath, pulling her closer and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You don't need to be a model, or have eyes the color of the sea..." He began, his voice low and full of sincerity. "Because you are already all I need to see the sky."

Y/n, even with wet eyes, looked up at him, as if that affection was slowly sewing together every broken piece inside her. Ollie wrapped her even tighter, and with a slight smile on his lips, he continued.

"All I can think about is our future. I know how much you love making plans, so listen to mine..." His palm gently caressed her back, his fingers tracing a comforting path. "I want to be with you when you take your first solo flight." Ollie said, looking up at the ceiling as if he could see their sky there. "I want to be in the audience, screaming louder than everyone else, when you get your diploma. I want our house, with kids running around the yard, knocking over flowerpots and staining the walls."

Y/n smiled, even with tears in her eyes, and he noticed. He took advantage of the moment, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I want to be the guy who holds your hand when you think you can't... and reminds you that you can do anything, anything at all."

A softer sob escaped Y/n, as if her heart was being carefully cradled by his words.

"Besides..." Ollie chuckled, lowering his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. "Blue-eyed blondes? Pff. None of them look as good in army uniforms as you do."

Y/n let out a muffled chuckle, hiding her face in his neck, blushing.

"Because let me tell you..." He said with a smug smile. "You look extremely hot and sexy in them!"

She actually laughed now, still shy, and he took the opportunity to kiss her cheek affectionately, a long and secure kiss.

"Here it is..." Ollie murmured against her skin. "My favorite sound from the person I love the most."

Author: I would probably never be chosen, I'm a tall brunette, with brown eyes and from a small family hahahahah Just kidding.

White Horse - Chapter 1: March 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

....Do not expect particular quick updates on this, because it's a beast of a story. Also: kinda Charles bashing, but not really? You'll see.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

A Bar in Montecarlo: 

Max had come to the bar for a quiet drink, not to get his world flipped upside down. But then he spotted her.

She was standing at the counter, waiting for her drink, all soft confidence and effortless elegance. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to turn heads—she just did. And Max, never one to let an opportunity pass him by, slid up beside her with his most charming smirk and opened his mouth. 

And because apparently, he had actually listened the last time Lando told him all about the absolutely horrible Pick-Up-Lines that he had tried with middling success…that was what came out of his mouth.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, “but do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

She turned, amused—

And Max nearly choked.

Because he knew her.

His brain scrambled for a second before his mouth caught up. “Oh, shit. You’re Charles’ little sister.”

Her entire expression changed. The amusement faded, her jaw tightening. “Wow,” she deadpanned. “That’s one way to ruin a moment.”

Max grimaced. “That’s not what I—”

She picked up her drink and turned fully toward him, raising a brow. “I do have a name, you know.”

He nodded quickly, recovering. “Right. Isabelle.”

“Good job,” she said dryly. “Want a gold star?”

Max huffed out a laugh. “Look, I just wasn’t expecting you. I see a beautiful woman at a bar, and my instinct is to flirt. Then I realize she’s my colleague’s little sister, and I panic.”

Her lips twitched. “And?”

“And… I’m still going to flirt with you,” he admitted, grinning. “But properly this time.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max leaned in slightly. “Can I buy you a drink, Isabelle?”

She pretended to consider. “That depends. Are you going to keep calling me Charles’ little sister?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear never to utter those words again.”

Her lips curled in the slightest smirk. “In that case, sure. Let’s see if you can impress me, Verstappen.”

Max had never been one to back down from a challenge. And something told him this was a challenge he’d never want to walk away from.

Max flagged down the bartender, ordering another round for both of them. Isabelle took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass like she was trying to decide if he was worth her time.

He liked that. Liked that she wasn’t falling over herself just because he was Max Verstappen.

“So,” he said, leaning against the bar, “what exactly would impress you?”

She hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “A conversation that doesn’t involve my brothers.”

Max smirked. “That easy?”

“You’d be surprised how many people fail that test.”

He could imagine. Charles was everywhere in the racing world, and by extension, so was Isabelle. It must be exhausting, always being seen as an extension of someone else.

Max took the challenge seriously. “Alright,” he said, shifting toward her. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with your family.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was assessing if he was genuine. Then, after a beat, she said, “I work in architecture.”

Max blinked. “Really?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I never thought about what you do.”

She smirked. “That’s because you’ve only ever seen me as Charles’ little sister.”

Max winced. “Okay, fair. But I’m interested now.”

“Are you?” She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “I have heard your name at work before.”

Max frowned. “You have?”

“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle said, taking another sip of her drink. “Apparently, you’ve been house hunting. One of my colleagues nearly had a meltdown over the idea of designing a place for Max Verstappen.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Wait… which project?”

She bit back a smile. “A penthouse. You toured it a few weeks ago.”

Max suddenly knew exactly which one she was talking about. He had liked the place, but something had held him back from committing.

Now, though?

Now, he was very seriously considering signing the papers just for an excuse to see her again.

He leaned in, watching her reaction closely. “And if I were to, say, buy that penthouse?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’d know you had good taste.”

Max grinned. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “That, and I’d probably have to endure my colleagues freaking out for at least a week.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, then. Guess I have some decisions to make.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.

Yeah. He was definitely buying that penthouse.

Max drummed his fingers against the bar, pretending to think. "Alright, so let’s say I do buy that penthouse. Hypothetically."

Isabelle gave him a knowing look. "Hypothetically."

"Would I get a personal consultation?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "That’s not how it works."

"But if I had, I don’t know, questions about the design, or maybe some concerns about the layout, I’d need someone to talk to, wouldn’t I?"

Isabelle swirled the last of her drink in her glass, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Max, are you trying to say you need my number for professional reasons?"

He grinned, tilting his head. "I mean, what if I need an expert opinion? You are the only architect I know."

She sighed in mock exasperation, but he could tell she was entertained. "I really shouldn’t encourage this."

"But you want to," Max countered, smirking.

Her lips twitched, and after a moment’s pause, she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "Fine. Give me yours, I’ll text you."

Max typed in his number so fast that she actually laughed. She typed something in her phone. 

A second later, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Unknown Number: Congratulations on your completely unbiased, definitely not suspicious real estate decision.

Max chuckled. "So, what happens if I text you about things that aren’t penthouse-related?"

Isabelle lifted her glass to her lips and said, before taking the last sip, "Guess we’ll find out."

And just like that, Max Verstappen knew he was completely screwed.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

(Unknown Number): Hey, it’s Max.

(Unknown Number): Verstappen.

(Unknown Number): Just in case you know a lot of Maxes.

Isabelle: I don’t.

Max: Good. Would hate to have competition already.

Isabelle: Already?

Max: What can I say? I like you.

Isabelle: You barely know me.

Max: That’s true. But I’d like to change that.

Isabelle: …That was smooth.

Max: Was it?

Isabelle: Surprisingly, yes.

Max: Noted. I’ll add it to my very short list of smooth moments.

Isabelle: Very short?

Max: Tragically short.

Isabelle: I don’t know if I believe that.

Max: I promise, my sister would confirm it.

Isabelle: You have a sister?

Max: Victoria.

Isabelle: Right, I think I’ve seen her before.

Max: Probably. She’d probably like you, by the way.

Isabelle: Oh?

Max: Yeah. She has a good instinct about people.

Isabelle: And what does your instinct say?

Max: That I really, really want to see you again.

Isabelle: You’re very direct, aren’t you?

Max: Is that a bad thing?

Isabelle: No. Just… unexpected.

Max: Well, I can be subtle too.

Isabelle: Can you?

Max: Definitely. For example, I could subtly ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.

Isabelle: …Very subtle.

Max: Thank you. So?

Isabelle: I might be free.

Max: Good. Then I’ll subtly ask if you’d like to have dinner with me.

Isabelle: Are you always like this?

Max: Only when I really like someone.

Isabelle: …Dinner sounds nice.

Max: Perfect. I’ll send you the details.

Isabelle: Looking forward to it.

Max: Me too.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: I met someone.

Victoria: …Okay?

Max: And I think I’m in love.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: You literally just met her??

Max: Yes.

Victoria: And you think you’re in love?

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: Max.

Victoria: WHAT.

Victoria: HOW.

Victoria: WHY.

Max: I don’t know, Vic. I just know. I met her tonight and I just…I just know.

Victoria: You’ve known her for one night.

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Vic.

Victoria: Oh my god, you’re serious.

Max: Very.

Victoria: You’re actually gone for her already.

Max: Completely.

Victoria: …Okay.

Max: Okay?

Victoria: Yeah.

Victoria: I mean, I think you’re insane, but if anyone deserves to fall stupidly, recklessly in love, it’s you.

Max: …Thanks, Vic.

Victoria: You deserve to be loved, Max.

Victoria: For who you are. Not because you’re Max Verstappen, two-time world champion, but just because you’re you.

Max: …

Max: I think she sees me that way.

Victoria: Then hold onto her.

Max: I plan to.

Victoria: Is that why you’re texting me at midnight like a lunatic?

Max: …I may have also just bought that penthouse.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: YOU HAVE BEEN UNDECIDED ABOUT THAT PENTHOUSE FOR MONTHS.

Victoria: AND NOW YOU MEET A GIRL AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE BUYING IT???

Max: Her architecture firm is working on it.

Victoria: This is why people say Libras are intense.

Max: That’s astrology nonsense.

Victoria: SAYS THE MAN PLANNING A WHOLE FUTURE AFTER ONE CONVERSATION.

Max: I have a good feeling about it.

Victoria: MAX.

Max: What? You just said I deserve to be loved.

Victoria: YES, BUT I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D LOSE YOUR ENTIRE MIND OVER IT.

Max: Too late.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: You are actually the most ridiculous person alive.

Victoria: But if she makes you happy… then I’m happy for you.

Max: She does.

Victoria: Then that’s all that matters.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Emergency. Crisis. Disaster.

Emilie: That’s a lot of words. What happened?

Isabelle: I have a date.

Emilie: And that’s a disaster because…?

Isabelle: Because it’s with Max Verstappen.

Emilie: …

Emilie: I’m going to need a second.

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie: Okay, I’m back. WHAT???

Isabelle: We met at a bar. He asked me out. I said yes. And now I don’t know what to wear. Focus. Help.

Emilie: We met at a bar, he asked me out, I said yes—DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF???

Isabelle: EMILIE. FOCUS. OUTFIT.

Emilie: Right. Okay. Where is he taking you?

Isabelle: Some fancy restaurant. Not too fancy, but still expensive.

Emilie: God, of course. Okay. Simple but elegant. A dress that makes it look like you didn’t try too hard, even though you absolutely did.

Isabelle: Black dress?

Emilie: Obviously. And heels. You own some ridiculous ones. Wear those.

Isabelle: You are suspiciously good at this.

Emilie: Because I have taste. Now, more importantly—DO YOUR BROTHERS KNOW??

Isabelle: …

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: No, they do not.

Emilie: WHY NOT???

Isabelle: Because I don’t want to deal with it.

Emilie: You are dating CHARLES LECLERC’S BIGGEST RIVAL. YOU DON’T THINK THAT’S WORTH MENTIONING???

Isabelle: One date does not mean I’m dating him.

Emilie: YET.

Isabelle: I don’t think Charles would care.

Emilie: …That is the saddest sentence I have ever read.

Emilie: You don’t think Charles would care.

Isabelle: No.

Emilie: Are we talking about the same man??? The one who holds grudges against people for bad karting races from 15 years ago??

Isabelle: I am saying that I am basically invisible in my family, and therefore, he will not care.

Emilie: THAT IS SO DEPRESSING.

Isabelle: It’s just reality.

Emilie: No, it’s tragic. And when Charles inevitably does care, I am going to be so smug about it.

Isabelle: He won’t.

Emilie: He will. And when he finds out from Twitter instead of you, I am going to remind you forever that I was right.

Isabelle: Fine. If he does, I will buy you dinner.

Emilie: And?

Isabelle: And I will admit you were right.

Emilie: Good girl. But first, we need to make sure Max Verstappen is absolutely floored when he sees you tonight. Let’s pick out your dress.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: HELP.

Max: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Max: I’m serious, Vic. This is important.

Victoria: It’s one date.

Max: Exactly! First impressions matter. What if I wear something stupid?

Victoria: You wear team merch 90% of the time, so that’s a real possibility.

Max: NOT HELPING.

Victoria: Okay, okay. Where are you taking her?

Max: Nice restaurant. Fancy-ish but not too fancy.

Victoria: Alright. Dark jeans, nice shirt, jacket. Clean shoes.

Max: That’s it???

Victoria: Yes, you’re not walking a red carpet, Max.

Max: What if she thinks it’s boring?

Victoria: If she’s going out with you, she probably already knows you’re a little fashion-challenged.

Max: Wow.

Victoria: I’m just saying, if she agreed to a date, she clearly likes you. Just wear something that fits and isn’t Red Bull merch.

Max: I feel like you’re underestimating the stress of this situation.

Victoria: I feel like you’re underestimating the fact that she already said yes.

Max: …Good point.

Victoria: Obviously. Now go find a shirt that isn’t a team polo and try not to overthink it.

Max: No promises.

Victoria: You’re impossible.

Max: And yet, you still love me.

Victoria: Unfortunately. Now go. And don’t text me from the restaurant freaking out.

Max: No guarantees.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Well????

Isabelle: Well, what?

Emilie: Isabelle. Do not play dumb with me. How did the date go??

Isabelle: …It was really nice.

Emilie: THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GIVING ME?

Emilie: I want DETAILS. Did he show up looking stupidly handsome? Was he nice? Did he make you laugh? Did you kiss him??

Isabelle: Yes, yes, yes, and Yes.

Emilie: YES??

​​Isabelle: I kissed him.

Emilie: !!!!!

Emilie: Details. Now.

Isabelle: It was after our date. He walked me to my door, and I just… kissed him.

Emilie: You just kissed him?? Who are you and what have you done with my overthinking best friend??

Isabelle: Shut up. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.

Emilie: And???

Isabelle: And then he kissed me back.

Emilie: …That better not be the end of the story.

Isabelle: It was soft. And slow. And he cupped my face like I was something precious.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Emilie: Isabelle, my love. My dearest best friend.

Emilie: You’re done for.

Isabelle: … I know.

Emilie: And how did he look after?

Isabelle: Like he was trying very hard not to kiss me again.

Emilie: Oh, you’re so doomed.

Isabelle: I know.

Emilie: Tell me everything.

Isabelle: He was already at the restaurant when I got there, which was sweet. He pulled out my chair for me. He was nervous, which was insane to me because, you know, he’s Max Verstappen.

Emilie: Boy has driven through Eau Rouge at full speed, but a girl makes him nervous. I love this.

Isabelle: He kept looking at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. Like he actually wanted to hear everything I had to say.

Emilie: I love him already.

Isabelle: You love him?? Emilie, I might actually be in trouble here.

Emilie: Uh oh.

Isabelle: …He sent me flowers.

Emilie: WHAT.

Emilie: When???

Isabelle: They just got delivered.

Emilie: EXCUSE ME.

Emilie: You go on ONE date with Max Verstappen and wake up to FLOWERS???

Isabelle: Apparently.

Emilie: What kind?

Isabelle: Peonies.

Emilie: Belle.

Emilie: He is so in love with you.

Isabelle: It was one date.

Emilie: AND???

Emilie: The man sent you flowers the morning after like he’s starring in a romance novel.

Isabelle: Maybe he just does that?

Emilie: Girl. Be serious.

Emilie: Did he say anything with them?

Isabelle: There was a note.

Emilie: AND???

Isabelle: It just says ‘Last night was perfect. Can’t wait to see you again. – Max’

Emilie: I’M GONNA SCREAM.

Emilie: Max Verstappen is courting you.

Isabelle: Courting is a strong word.

Emilie: He sent you flowers. He is so gone for you.

Isabelle: …Maybe.

Emilie: So… second date?

Isabelle: Saturday.

Emilie: GIRL.

Isabelle: I know.

***

Isabelle Leclerc’s Instagram Post

Comments:

@/emilie_abadie: 👀👀👀

@/F1GossipQueen: That’s a very ‘I have a thoughtful boyfriend’ kind of flower arrangement.

↳@/paddockprincessx: Soft launch era????

@/leclercsiblingtea: If Charles doesn’t know who sent these, I need his live reaction immediately.

↳@/monacogossip: Why do I feel like this is someone wildly unexpected?

↳@/redbullsimpclub: Place your bets now, I’m saying it’s a paddock guy.

↳@/f1shenanigans: If this is from an F1 driver, I am losing my mind.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.

Isabelle: And for yesterday. I had a really nice time.

Max: I’m glad you liked them. 

Max: What’s your favorite flower? For next time.

Isabelle: Snowdrops.

Max: Snowdrops?

Isabelle: Yes?

Max: I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone whose favorite flower is snowdrops.

Isabelle: That’s a shame. They’re beautiful. And they bloom in the cold, when nothing else does.

Max : Like you, then.

Isabelle: …Are you trying to be charming, Max Verstappen?

Max: Is it working?

Isabelle: Maybe.

Max: Good.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: So… Victoria told me something interesting.

Max: She needs a new hobby.

Sophie: Max.

Max: What?

Sophie: Are you in love?

Max: …Maybe.

Sophie: After one conversation?

Max: No! After two conversations.

Sophie: Oh, well, that’s much more reasonable.

Max: Mom.

Sophie: Max.

Max: Look, I just know that it’s different. I’ve never felt like this before.

Sophie: That’s a big thing to say.

Max: I know. But I can’t explain it. It just makes sense.

Sophie: So how did the date go?

Max: …It was perfect.

Sophie: Now we’re getting somewhere.

Max: She’s funny, she’s smart, she actually listens when I talk about racing—like, really listens. And she doesn’t care about the other stuff. The money, the fame. None of it. She just likes me.

Sophie: That’s important.

Max: I know.

Sophie: So when do I get to meet her?

Max: When she doesn’t think I’m a crazy person for how fast I’m falling for her.

Sophie: I hate to break it to you, Max, but you bought a penthouse because her firm is working on it.

Max: …

Sophie: That’s what I thought.

Max: It’s a very nice penthouse.

Sophie: Of course it is.

Max: So you’re not going to say I’m insane?

Sophie: Oh, you are insane. But you’re also my son. And if this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.

Max: Thanks, Mom.

Sophie: Now tell me, do I need to start planning a wedding?

Max: Goodbye.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale) 

Arthur: Dinner at Maman’s, Saturday, usual time?

Charles: Yeah, I’ll be there.

Lorenzo: Me too.

Isabelle: I can’t make it, I’m busy.

Arthur: What’s Maman making?

Charles: Probably something with pasta.

Lorenzo: Didn’t she say something about lamb last time?

Arthur: Oh yeah, I think so.

Isabelle: Have fun!

Charles: See you all Saturday.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey, if I were to ask for date advice, purely hypothetically…

Victoria: Oh my God.

Max: What?

Victoria: You NEVER ask for advice. This must be serious.

Max: It’s not that serious.

Victoria: You literally bought an apartment because of this girl.

Max: …That’s unrelated.

Victoria: Sure it is.

Max: So… hypothetically… if I needed some guidance, what would you suggest?

Victoria: Are you actually asking for advice, or are you just hoping I’ll make it easier for you by giving you a list of things not to do?

Max: ...

Victoria: That’s what I thought. Give me a second.

Victoria: Okay, here’s your DO NOT list:

Do not talk about tire degradation.

Do not mention iRacing, no matter how good your last stint was.

Do not wear a Red Bull hoodie.

Do not check F1 news during the date.

Do not turn the date into a competition.

Do not text me mid-date if you panic. Figure it out.

Do not propose.

Max: …That last one was unnecessary.

Victoria: I’m just covering all bases.

Max: I wasn’t going to propose.

Victoria: Good. Then this should be easy for you.

Max: The Red Bull hoodie rule feels unfair.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Fine. No Red Bull hoodie.

Victoria: Thank you.

Max: …Can I at least wear the cap?

Victoria: Max.

Max: Alright, alright. No cap.

Victoria: Proud of you. Now, go be normal.

Max: No promises.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Hypothetically. If you were taking someone on a second date. What would you do?

GP: …Why are you asking me?

Max: Because you’re married!

GP: And?

Max: That means you’ve successfully dated someone.

GP: That does not make me a dating expert.

GP: Also, since when do you ask me for relationship advice?

GP: Who is she?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max:

GP: MAX.

GP: WHO IS IT.

Max: Isabelle.

GP: Isabelle who?

Max: …Leclerc.

GP:

GP: MAX.

GP: CHARLES LECLERC’S SISTER?!?!?!?!?

Max: Yeah, she doesn’t really like being called that.

GP: MAX.

GP: DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?

Max: Not particularly.

GP: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

Max: I met her.

GP: OBVIOUSLY.

GP: Where?! When?! How long has this been going on?!

Max:  A few days.

GP: And Charles doesn’t know???

Max: I don’t think he notices much about her.

GP: Okay, that’s a whole other issue, but back to you.

GP: Do you have any self-preservation instincts?

Max: She’s nice. I like her.

GP: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

GP: Do you realize the incident this could cause?

Max: If I wanted overreactions, I’d have texted Victoria.

GP: I AM REACTING APPROPRIATELY.

GP: What does Victoria think?

Max: She said, "You deserve to be loved."

GP: …Well, that’s suspiciously sentimental.

GP: But also, Charles is still going to kill you.

Max: You’re being dramatic.

GP: AM I?

Max: Are you helping or not?

GP: I AM TOO BUSY PROCESSING YOUR TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES.

GP: Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Let’s focus.

GP: You need a second date idea.

GP: That does not result in Charles Leclerc murdering you.

Max: I think you’re overestimating how much he pays attention to her.

GP: That’s between them. I am concerned for you.

Max: You’re being dramatic again.

GP: No, I’m being realistic.

Max: …I’ll deal with that when it happens.

GP: Unbelievable.

GP: Alright. Date ideas.

GP: What did you do for the first one?

Max: Dinner. Talked a lot.

GP: What does she like?

Max: Horses.

GP: Horses.

GP: You’re dating someone who likes horses.

Max: Yes?

GP: I feel like that’s relevant information I should’ve had sooner.

GP: Have you ever been near a horse, Max?

Max: Not really.

GP: Okay, no horse-related dates yet. You will get yourself killed trying to impress her.

Max: She’d find that funny.

GP: I wouldn’t.

GP: Let’s keep it simple. Somewhere quiet. Private. Where you can talk.

Max: I was thinking that too.

GP: What about a picnic?

Max: A picnic.

GP: Yeah. You get some good food, go somewhere nice, and just relax. No stress.

Max: Where am I supposed to find a picnic spot?

GP: You have a balcony, Max.

GP: You literally have a balcony with a view.

GP: Just set something up there.

Max: …That’s actually not a bad idea.

GP: Wow. Praise from the great Max Verstappen. I’m honored.

Max: Don’t get used to it.

GP: Okay, what kind of food does she like?

Max: She ordered pasta on our first date.

GP: That’s a start. You could order from the same place.

Max: Or I could cook.

GP: You could what?

Max: I can cook, GP.

GP: Since when?

Max: Since I lived alone?

GP: Okay, sure. But can you cook something that won’t poison her?

Max: Wow. Faith in me is at an all-time low.

GP: Just making sure she survives the night.

Max: I’ll make pasta. It’s simple.

GP: Fine. But don’t experiment. Stick to what you know.

Max: What do you think I’m going to do? Try molecular gastronomy?

GP: I wouldn’t put it past you.

GP: Okay, what else… You need drinks. Dessert.

Max: She likes red wine.

GP: Get a good wine, then. And dessert?

Max: She mentioned liking raspberries once.

GP: So get her something with raspberries.

Max: Got it.

GP: And what about ambiance?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max: What?

GP: Do you even own candles?

Max: …Victoria gave me some once.

GP: Use them.

GP: And put some effort into setting the table.

GP: You know, for someone who acts like they don’t care about romance, you’re actually putting effort into this.

Max: …She’s worth the effort.

GP:

GP: Damn.

GP: Okay.

GP: You have to survive Charles finding out.

Max: I told you. I’ll handle it.

GP: Yeah, yeah. Just keep me updated.

Max: Sure.

GP: And if you need actual advice, ask Victoria.

Max: I did ask Victoria. She just sent me a list of things not to do.

GP: What was on the list?

Max: "Don’t talk about tire degradation. Don’t mention iRacing. Don’t wear a Red Bull hoodie."

GP: Solid advice.

Max: She also said, "Act normal."

GP: That one might be harder for you.

Max: Wow.

GP: Just being honest.

GP: So, do you have everything planned?

Max: Yeah. I think so.

GP: Good. Now all you have to do is not mess it up.

Max: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

GP: Any time.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Soooooo... how was the date?

Isabelle: Good.

Emilie: …That’s it? "Good"? You had dinner with Max Verstappen, a man who has clearly lost his mind over you, and all you have to say is "good"???

Isabelle: Fine. Great. Amazing.

Isabelle: Happy?

Emilie: Better. But I’m gonna need DETAILS.

Isabelle: We had dinner, talked a lot, and then I stayed over.

Emilie:

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???

Emilie: YOU STAYED OVER????

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: As in "I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie and went home in the morning" stayed over, or "I am now intimately familiar with Max Verstappen's bedsheets" stayed over???

Isabelle: …

Emilie: ISABELLE.

Isabelle: Nothing happened. 

Emilie: Oh my god.

Emilie: OH MY GOD.

Isabelle: I swear, nothing happened. It just got late and…

Emilie: This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Isabelle: I’m so glad MY love life is giving you entertainment.

Emilie: You don’t understand. I’ve been waiting for you to have an actual romance for YEARS. YEARS, ISABELLE.

Isabelle: You make it sound like I was living in a cave.

Emilie: Emotionally? Maybe a little.

Isabelle: Rude.

Emilie: True.

Emilie: But seriously. How do you feel?

Isabelle: …I don’t know. It’s weird.

Isabelle: He likes me. Like, really likes me. And I’m not used to that.

Emilie: Then get used to it, babe. Because that man? He’s already gone for you.

Isabelle: You think so?

Emilie: I KNOW so.

Emilie: Now tell me: does he have nice bedsheets, or do I need to stage an intervention?

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

GP: Well???

Max: Well, what?

GP: Don’t play dumb. How did it go?

Max: …

GP: MAX.

Max: It went well.

GP: That’s it? That’s all I get after coaching you through this?

Max: What do you want me to say?

GP: I want details. Did she like the food? Did you talk about tire degradation anyway? Did she laugh about your terrible jokes?

Max: She liked the food. No, I did not mention tire degradation. Rude.

GP: Growth. I’m proud of you.

Max: Thanks.

Max: The cats love her.

GP: …THE CATS?! MAX. That is NOT the update I was looking for.

Max: No, but it’s important. They don’t just like people.

GP: I was expecting romance, maybe a ‘we stayed up talking all night’ or ‘she laughed at all my jokes’—and you’re giving me ‘the cats love her’??!

Max: It means a lot! Jimmy and Sassy were literally fighting for her attention. She was just sitting on the couch, and they both climbed into her lap like she was their owner.

GP: …Okay, I’ll admit, that’s kind of a big deal. You’re in love, aren’t you?

Max: I mean… yeah.

GP: I knew it. The cats knew it. Everyone knew it. Charles is gonna lose his mind.

Max: That’s a problem for future Max.

***

camera film.

summary: the film in Taehyung’s camera tells the story of his life, you being the main subject of every photo pairing: kim taehyung x reader genre: fluff, slight angst word count: 4k tags/warnings: alluding to oc’s death toward the end a/n: I felt so warm and fuzzy writing this, I’ve been anticipating this post, I hope y’all love it as much as I do~

“Mom?” The young man with wavy, black hair comes in from the garage.

He follows the echo of her voice, finding her in the den with his aunts and uncles, knelled down and drowning in a sea of their parents’ boxes. He goes unnoticed, the five of them too caught in a banter about how they are going to successfully organize donation piles and keep piles. He laughs to himself, leaving them in their organized chaos and sibling language, venturing back to the garage he took on as his own task.

“Hajun?” His grandpa’s voice sounds from across the hallway. Hajun peers around the corner to find his grandpa out in the sunroom, sitting in a well-worn chair warming under the autumn sun.

“You okay, grandpa?” He asks, patting his shoulder. His grandpa looks at him and nods but not long before his eyes fall on the bulky object in his grandson’s hands.

“Oh? Where did you find this?” He reaches for it.

“It was in the garage, lost on a top shelf,” Hajun chuckles, handing it to him.

“Mm, well age does that you know, makes you forget where you put things,” he looks through the lens, “your grandma was my right hand- always helping me keep track of things.”

“You think I can keep it grandpa?” Hajun asks. His grandpa chuckles, swiping his chin like he’d done since he was a toddler, “always collecting things, even as an infant.”

Hajun watches his grandfather inspect it carefully. How thoughtfully he ran his aged fingers over the different pieces, handling it as if it was a newborn baby in his hands. His dark eyes find Hajun’s; “this camera was my prized possession Hajun-ssi, did you know that?”

Hajun smiles, sitting on the ottoman across from his grandpa, shaking his head, “but I know how much you loved photography-”

The walls of his grandparents’ home could attest to that. Each wall curated with a gallery of photos, most taken by his grandpa. It was a visual timeline telling the liveliness of his grandparent’s lives, before they met and everything after.

“Ah yes, taking pictures with this camera, it’s the very reason I met your grandmother- bring me that picture on the fireplace please.”

Hajun does as he’s asked, taking the only framed picture living above the fireplace. A warm smile spreads across his grandpa’s face, enough to keep Hajun’s impatience bottled in, more eager to play around with the film camera than anything else. But his grandpa wades in the quiet afternoon, lost in the photo. A melancholy sigh escapes him before he clears his throat, “she was always my favorite photo to take Hajun.”

Keep reading

---

Eunoia // Ch. 19

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 7.5k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 chapter 18

The taglist is now closed

One thing you hadn’t considered before going undercover for the police was the sneaking around to reach your hotel room. A tiger hybrid that hadn’t been there for the rest of your stay was returning with you and John’s jacket was the only garment that was covering anything. You had to take the back door to avoid being seen by any too curious eyes and bribe someone from the hotel staff to let you use the staff’s elevator. As an excuse, you told him you were afraid someone was following you, paparazzi or some stalker. John and Taehyung stayed hidden until the staff member left after asking you at least three times if you wanted him to accompany you to your room.

You were lucky the corridors of the top floor were empty and the three of you made it to your room undetected. The reason you were staying at that specific hotel was that it was advertised as valuing their guests’ privacy and you had been trying to avoid the press. Now, you were thankful for that choice because there were no cameras in the hallways. If videos of you returning to the hotel with a mostly naked hybrid got out, your career would be over.

The door to your hotel room closed behind you and your shoulders sagged. The silk dress stifled you, pushing your chest more and more until there was nothing left but the impression of all the air you couldn’t take.

You collapsed on the couch and undid the straps on your high heels. When your feet were bare you felt lighter. The first piece of your costume was off.

“I have to go change,” John said. “I feel like the suit is going to eat me up.”

You rolled your neck, hearing tiny cracks. “Believe me, I get it.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, I need to change into something more comfortable,” John said, opening the door. “You should do the same. It’ll be a long night.”

Yujin was supposed to call you to update you after the raid. You would have to go back to the police station and officially recount all the events that took place at the auction and point out the ones who organized it. They would need your testimony to strengthen the case and guarantee Hyungjoon wouldn’t escape a prison sentence.

It was two hours past midnight and your flight was leaving Seoul at eight in the morning.

You cleared your head of police protocol and eleven-hour-long flights. Taehyung had stopped by the coffee table in front of the couch, John’s jacket draped over his shoulders. His expression was carefully blank, a statue sculpted to be still and perfect for the viewer’s enjoyment. Some statues displayed more life than he did.

“It’s late,” you said. “You should go to the bedroom and get some rest. Would you like that?”

He nodded and headed to your room without question. He deserved to sleep in a comfortable bed. He deserved everything the world had to offer after being through that monstrous night. And you didn’t know anything else about how it had been before or how many years he had been treated like a slave. Trained.

You took off the gold necklace and your earrings. You couldn’t look at your dress without getting the urge to rip it to pieces, listen to the green silk being torn apart. It was a reminder of a night you already wanted to forget, of a role you never wanted to play again. It was scary. Because you saw people you knew in the faces of those enjoying the show of hybrids being auctioned off. You saw your parents parading around wearing the most famous of designers in large ballrooms. You saw a version of yourself that didn’t exist but could have. And could haves were dangerous.

John returned. He had gotten rid of the suit and he was sporting gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt tight around his biceps.

“Are you going to stay in that?” he asked, looking pointedly at your dress.

“God, no,” you said. “I can’t wait to throw it in the trash.”

John sat down in an armchair facing you. “Are you going to throw a dress worth twenty thousand dollars in the trash?”

“I want to,” you said stubbornly. You weren’t going to throw it in the trash, as tempting as it was. You would donate it somewhere and they could sell it. You would be satisfied if you never saw it again. “You don’t have to be here, you know. You can go to your room and sleep. I will wake you up when Yujin calls.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Taehyung isn’t going to hurt me. Did you see how thin he is?” you asked. “Besides, I don’t think he would try.”

“He wouldn’t,” John said. Both of you were aware that he was probably too scared to do anything but obey you. “But it isn’t Taehyung that I’m worried about. Speaking of Taehyung, where is he?”

You laid back against the arm of the couch and rubbed the sore muscles of your feet. “I sent him to sleep in my room, he must be exhausted. And terrified. I don’t know what else to do.”

“You should sleep too. It will be a few hours until Yujin calls. Breaking up the auction and arresting everyone will take some time. Then they have to take everyone to the station and do whatever work they have to do there before she can call you.”

Yujin had promised to call you as soon as she could. She had been confident about wrapping up everything long before your flight. But John was right, you could fall asleep for a few hours.

“I’m not sure I can sleep,” you said honestly.

The orange bottle was hidden inside a pocket in your suitcase, you packed it for every trip out of habit. During demanding schedules, you had no choice but to swallow one of the pills and fall into a heavy dreamless sleep. You couldn’t afford to be sleepwalking at interviews and red carpets.

“You can try,” John said. “I will be right here.”

He made himself comfortable on the chair, crossing his arms and stretching his legs.

“I could fall asleep like this.”

You chuckled quietly. “Go ahead. Your back will be killing you tomorrow.”

His face scrunched up in distaste. “For the sake of my back, I’m not going to. I’ll be waiting for Yujin’s call. You should go change into your pajamas. The couch looks much more comfortable than my armchair.”

The couch was very comfortable and a few hours of sleeping on it wouldn’t be too bad. It had plenty of space to roll around and you could grab one of the pillows from the bedroom. As far as nightly accommodations went, it could be worse.

“I can try,” you said. “But I have another call to make before that.”

John offered you a bemused smile. “I’m surprised you waited so long. I thought you would have called them the moment we came back.”

You fiddled with your dress. “I was going to. But there was Taehyung… I can’t bear to look at him like that. He’s so… lifeless. Like a robot programmed to execute orders. Is that what they turned them into? Shells of themselves?”

“Their goal was a perfect servant. A well-mannered pet. This is exactly what they were aiming for.”

Hate was a strong word, to be used sparingly. When you were younger you used to throw the word around without meaning or rhyme. You hated your parents and you hated your aunt and you hated your friend who pushed you into the sand once. It was all quickly forgotten. Because it was never hate. Growing older you realized that throwing the word around diminished its meaning. You reserved it for the ones who would make your skin crawl and your blood boil.

And after years you found those people. Jimin and Yoongi’s past owner, the organizers of the hybrid fighting ring. Hyungjoon was the only one with both a face and a name. You hated them all.

“How can people be so cruel to them?” you asked bitterly. “They are breaking their souls. And for what? There were children in there. Do they have no conscience? Can they not see that hybrids are the same as us? All of them, every single one of them is sick.”

“They are,” John agreed. He glanced at the door leading to the bedroom. “You will need to wake him up when Yujin calls. They will probably take him in for questioning before returning him to a hybrid center.”

Being in a hybrid center wouldn’t help Taehyung. You couldn’t imagine him getting better there. He needed love and someone to care for him. He should have the freedom he had been denied all these years and anything else he would ever want. But who would adopt a broken hybrid? Because that’s what they would label him as at the adoption center. Not fit to play the happy and cute part. The people who would want to adopt him would have all the wrong reasons.

They couldn’t return him to the adoption center like this. But you could see that there weren’t any other options. Where else would he go?

“It doesn’t feel right,” you said. “He won’t ever be adopted. Not by someone who doesn’t want a slave. He will either spend all his life between adoption centers and shelters or with someone who won’t treat him any better than those people at the auction.”

“But that’s where our job ends. We did everything we could. There is nothing more we can do, we can’t micro-manage who each hybrid will be adopted by. You already saved him. Taehyung isn’t your responsibility.”

“Isn’t he?”

The plan had been clear since the beginning. You were supposed to get a hybrid, the second or third that would be auctioned off and make it believable that you genuinely wanted them. And then when the police had arrested everyone you would give them back to the police and they would attempt to hack the auctions servers and get all the money back, including yours. How could you have predicted that you would grow strangely attached to the hybrid?

John leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs and clasping his hands together. “You can’t always play savior. Taehyung needs a lot of help and you’re right, as it is he won’t get it at an adoption center. But you are entitled to making a few demands of the police like asking them to offer counseling to the hybrids. You helped enough already.”

Resigned, you wrapped your arms around your legs, laying your cheek on your knees. “You’re right. I just can’t help but feel like I should be doing more for him.”

“What more do you want to do?” John asked in a way that showed he was willing to listen to you. To discuss the matter with you instead of dismissing it. You remained silent. “Are you thinking of adopting him?”

You opened your mouth to reply but closed it again. Were you? There was something tugging at the back of your mind but you hadn’t looked deeper into it. You were avoiding looking deeper into it.

“I shouldn’t be.”

“The police will ask to take him back,” John stated.

Taehyung was part of the case, you couldn’t grab him and leave before it closed. And you couldn’t make the decision by yourself. There were six hybrids back home waiting for you. Things were finally looking up. Yoongi was getting used to the other hybrids, he stopped hiding away and he was talking more. The pack was getting used to having two more hybrids in the house. You couldn’t throw another one at them.

“You should call them,” John interrupted your thoughts. He looked at your discarded purse on the coffee table. “They must be worried sick.”

You reached for your bag and pulled out your phone. John was right, it was about time you called them. You should have called the moment you arrived at the hotel. You blamed the adrenaline of the night and the anxiety that hadn’t yet dissipated. You went to your favorite contacts -the list of your contacts was too long to scroll through- and pressed on Namjoon’s icon.

It was a photo you had taken of him in Virginia. Namjoon was sitting on the grass out in the garden reading a book bound in red leather. He had discovered it in a thrift store on one of your trips to the city, his eyes lighting up at the little treasure. It was an old classic and it once belonged to someone who loved it dearly, evident by the little notes in the margins on every page. Namjoon adored it, keeping it in his room and carefully wrapping it in cloth before packing it for your trip back to Los Angeles.

The phone rang exactly once before he picked up.

“Hey.”

You were greeted by shouts of your name and questions about your well-being. All the hybrids must be gathered around Namjoon’s phone. You realized they had been waiting for you to call and you felt more guilty for not calling them sooner.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured them. “John and I are back at the hotel.”

You heard mutters and sighs of relief.

“Thank god,” Namjoon said. “Don’t ever do something like that again. I nearly lost my mind.”

You giggled quietly. “Never. I’m not putting myself through that again.”

You went on to tell them everything from when you arrived at the hotel to the car ride back. It was the exact same story you had told Yujin but now you didn’t focus on the details but the feelings. On the anxiety about revealing yourself and your disgust at the event as a whole. You summarized your experience as best as you could. It was for the best if they didn’t have to live it even if it was through a retelling. You would have refrained from telling them anything if they hadn’t pleaded.

After some hesitation, you mentioned Taehyung. You hadn’t shared with them the police’s plan, it had been too late to call them by then.

“Where is he now?” Jimin asked in a small voice.

“In the bedroom. Sleeping.” You glanced at the door. You couldn’t hear any sounds coming from inside. “I’m not sure he speaks English. He can mostly understand what I’m saying but… He doesn’t speak, keeps his eyes on the floor. I haven’t heard him utter a single word.”

“Maybe he only knows specific words,” Hoseok offered. “They must have taught him what he needed to know to understand commands.”

Whatever training they had put him through served one purpose; to make him a slave that would do anything for his owners. They had predicted that a lot of the potential buyers would be foreigners since the auction itself had been in English.

Yoongi surprised you by speaking up. “What will happen to him now?”

“I’ll take him to the police station with me, they need to ask him questions about the auction. But I don’t know if he will be of any help to them.”

“After that?” Yoongi asked.

“An adoption center or a shelter,” you said. The wrong feeling hadn’t left you, abandoning Taehyung at an adoption center made you feel unreasonably guilty. “They will take care of him.”

Yoongi made a scornful sound. “Right.”

You rose from the couch, your bare feet touching the cool tiles and your dress sweeping the floor. You shivered. In one hand, you gathered your dress to avoid stepping on it and falling on your face—its length was designed to be worn with high heels. John lifted his head from his phone.

“I don’t want him to be thrown at an adoption center either. Where else are they supposed to take him? I will make sure he will have access to therapy and anything else he needs. I’ll talk to Yujin, she can do something.”

Yoongi didn’t reply. You looked through the glass wall at the city’s millions of multicolored lights, the tall buildings, and the few cars speeding through the streets. Above, the sky was pitch black, the moon invisible and not a star in sight. You missed the clear night sky in Virginia, away from the pollution and the artificial lights. The moon and the stars were bright enough to lead your way.

“Will you come home today?” Jungkook asked timidly.

Your heart swelled at the bunny’s hesitancy. “I will. I’m not missing my flight. Yujin promised I will have more than enough time after giving my statement to go to the airport. We’ll be flying back on the private jet the company rented, they will wait for me if I’m late by a few minutes.”

“You better be here today,” Seokjin said shakily. “You’ve been gone long enough.”

New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo, Seoul. Private jets and red carpets and camera flashes. It was two weeks you were gone now and as much as you used to adore traveling you couldn’t wait to go home.

“I will be there, I promise.”

Your finger traced the largest building in your view as you said goodbye. The call ended and you placed your hand on the glass dividing you from the outside. An invisible barrier like the lines you couldn’t see anymore. You turned around and laid your back against the glass.

“You should go to sleep,” John said. “I will wake you up when Yujin calls.”

“Okay,” you said, too tired to argue.

You stayed there for a minute before pushing yourself forward and heading to your room. You would take your pajamas from your suitcase and go to the bathroom to put them on. You had to be quiet to not wake up Taehyung and alarm him. You hadn’t even thought to offer him some pajamas before sending him to sleep. Before you went to the police station you would have to give him some clothes to wear. The silks could be evidence so you would have to put them in your bag and hand them over.

You eased the door open and slipped inside through the crack. Your monster of a suitcase was laying on the floor next to the closet. You hadn’t opened the closet once, there was no reason when you were staying for only two days. You looked to the side to make sure Taehyung hadn’t roused and you almost screamed when your eyes fell on him.

Taehyung was kneeling on the bed, head lowered and hands behind his back. The light of the lamps on the nightstand cast shadows on his bare golden skin, his collarbones, and his ribs. You slapped your hand over your eyes so hard it stung and turned your back to him. The image burned itself behind your eyelids, pulsing in an incandescent glow.

For the umpteenth time that night, your stomach churned aggressively in disgust. This was what they had trained him for. You had known but it was much more horrifying seeing it up close. If you hadn’t been there that balding man would have been in your place. Hands touching his golden skin, trailing lower and lower- You clenched your hands into fists at the revolting images your mind conjured up.

You stayed frozen with your back to him, asking yourself what you should do. It was all proving to be too hard and you were lacking severely. You should say something, anything, but Taehyung might not understand you. He hadn’t understood when you asked him to rest, there was no guarantee that he would understand now.

In every hotel, there were spare sheets and blankets in the closet. You pulled out a white blanket that was more fitted for winter than summer and keeping your eyes down, you threw it over Taehyung. Bundling him up in it, you sat down on the bed keeping some distance between you.

His lips parted in surprise, the first sign of anything other than passiveness on his face.

“Sleep now,” you said, connecting your palms and laying your cheek on your hands, using body language to show him what you meant. He didn’t move, his grip tight on the blanket. “Look at me.” He raised his head, his yellow eyes staring at you under his long lashes. “Lay down and sleep. I won’t touch you.”

You held up your hands, palms open. He glanced at the bed confused, looking almost cute. You patted the bed to encourage him. Cautiously, looking between you and the pillows he lowered his body to the bed.

“Close your eyes now. Sleep,” you said.

He did but he remained tense. Like he was waiting for you to do something. You were progressively getting angrier and angrier. At Hyunjoon and the bastards working at the auction, the ones attending, the ones wgo knew about it and did nothing. The world.

You got up from the bed and although Taehyung kept his eyes closed his eyebrows jumped in surprise. You went to your suitcase and opened it, your pajamas were folded on top of the mess that was the rest of your clothes. They were a peach-colored silk set with branches of orange blossoms all over them, a sleeveless top and pants by an Italian brand.

After you changed and came back into the room, Taehyung was in the same position you had left him in. What you had told him could have been interpreted as an order he was obeying. Or he was still waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

Leaving, you made sure to close the door behind you.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The ringing of your phone pulled you out of your slumber. In your blurry vision, you saw John picking it up from the coffee table. Yawning, you rubbed your eyes. You hadn’t gotten a restful sleep. The dream you couldn’t remember had filled you with anxiety and your body was so heavy you couldn’t move.

You pushed through the invisible mist, blinking quickly.

John ended the call before you could ask to take it. “It was Yujin.”

“What did she say?” you croaked, your voice scratchy.

A satisfied smile appeared on his face. “They caught them and they believe they found all the hybrids.”

Your shoulders slumped in relief, your whole body lighter than it had been in days. “That might be the best thing I’ve heard in my life.”

“Right after ‘the Oscar goes to…’?”

“Right after ‘the hybrid fighting ring has been dismantled’,” you corrected him.

“Fair,” John said.

In the past few months, your life had turned upside down. Once you had considered the Oscar ceremonies the most important nights of your life. That had changed without you taking notice. They were nothing more than a red carpet, expensive dresses, and little statues.

John slid his phone in his back pocket and reached for his shoes. “Yujin is waiting for us at the police station. She said they will ask you to identify the organizer.”

You rolled your neck, it was stiff from sleeping on the couch without a proper pillow. “That’s easy. I can’t wait for that bastard to be locked up behind bars. And to think that I believed he was nice two days ago. If I had any less composure I would have punched him in the face while he talked about how well-trained their hybrids are.”

“Be glad you didn’t,” John said. “You wouldn’t get to see him behind bars.”

“You’re right. That’s much more satisfying.”

“And way less dangerous,” John added pointedly. "Go wake Taehyung up. The earlier we go the earlier we can leave. We have a flight to catch in four hours and although it’s a private jet they won’t wait long for us.”

Your back cracked as you got to your feet and by John’s wide-eyed stare the loud sounds were mildly concerning. You told yourself that after this was over you would keep your head down and stick to less dangerous activities. You would take fighting with the producers and filming the same scenes over and over again any time over risking your life.

You knocked on the door leading to your room, determined to do this right. There was no response. You knocked again, waited, and pushed the door open.

Taehyung was sitting on the bed wrapped up in the blanket you had thrown over him. His eyeliner was smudged and the golden chains had fallen down his chest and tangled around his waist and arms. Sleep muddled his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked him, going to your suitcase to pick out an outfit that would be fit for both the police station and the airport.

Taehyung nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you sleep for long but we have to go to the police station.” You didn’t know how much he could understand—most likely not a lot—but chattering away was your way of making the atmosphere lighter. “I have to find some clothes for you as well. Let’s see if I have anything that fits you.”

You rummaged through your suitcase for anything he could wear. Your clothes were already messed up, messing them up more wasn’t an issue. But it did make your task rather more troublesome.

“There!” You pulled out a white hoodie you had packed for the airport in London. It was one of the most comfortable articles of clothing you owned and it would be just about the right size for Taehyung. “Now for pants…”

That was going to be much harder. You could ask John but his pants would be way too large on him.

“These will do,” you said holding a pair of black sweatpants. If they didn’t fit, you would try something else. You got up —there were a couple of cracks from your legs— and laid the clothes out on the bed. You gestured to the clothes and then to him. “Put these on.”

You went back to your suitcase to find some clothes for yourself. Taehyung inched towards the clothes and let the blanket fall from his shoulders. He got up from the bed and pulled off the first chain.

You cleared your throat. “You can go to the bathroom.”

Taehyung tilted his head.

You turned your back to him and continued your search. The silks fell to the floor with a whisper. You picked up a pair of black jeans and the first shirt you came across.

Leaving the hotel undetected was easier than slipping inside because of the late hour—so late it was bordering on early. John had the keys to one of the SUVs the production company had rented for the schedules. You would be back before anyone noticed it was missing.

The lights were all on in the police station. A man with tired eyes led you to the second floor. Music was playing through the speakers, the kind that played in elevators. Officers wearing dark bags under their eyes were moving around the rooms, carrying folders and flipping through papers. Phones were ringing and doors buzzing. The bright lights were making you dizzy.

Yujin was talking to two officers when you walked inside a large office that smelled like sweat and old coffee. It was loud in the room, keyboards clinking and people talking into earpieces and walkie-talkies and to each other.

“There you are,” Yujin said with a smile. She told the officers something in Korean and they left with nods in your direction. “Everything went according to plan. I believe Mr. Mallory already told you our operation was completely successful.”

“He did. Some of the best news I’ve woken up to.” Yujin’s gaze fell somewhere behind you. John was standing almost protectively in front of Taehyung, the hybrid’s hair hiding his face. “That’s Taehyung.”

Yujin spoke to him in Korean but got no reaction. Taehyung remained perfectly still other than his tiger ear twitching.

“He hasn’t spoken yet,” you said. “I thought it was because he didn’t understand English but… He can understand orders.” You cringed at the word. “They were speaking English at the auction.”

“There were a lot of foreigners. Mostly foreigners,” Yujin said. “Everyone was taken to the station but have no worries, none of them will see you here. I just need you to give a statement and identify the organizer. He won’t be able to see you, we will be standing behind a two-way mirror.”

You were aware of the process. You had been through it once before with Hoseok, standing next to him while he pointed at the people that forced them to fight like animals.

“Okay, let’s get it over with.” A yawn escaped you, it was sudden and you couldn’t stop it. “Excuse me, I’m running on two hours of sleep.”

Yujin offered you a sympathetic look, one that said she had been in the same position many times. “I completely understand. We are grateful for everything you have done for the case. I know I have asked a lot of you.” Her expression changed, turning serious with a hint of what could have been guilt. “There’s something you must know.”

You braced yourself. Whatever started with that phrase wasn’t about to be good.

“We believe there are a couple of people involved in the auction who escaped.”

“Escaped? How?” you asked, cold sweat gathering at your forehead.

An officer appeared and spoke to Yujin in quick Korean. Meanwhile, you shoved your hands in your pockets.

During one of the interrogations, someone had cracked and told them that two people working at the auction had been on another floor while the police had ambushed them. They had their descriptions and would give them to airports and train stations and they would be found soon. But that didn’t change the fact that there were two people out there who could learn of your work with the police and inform others in their network.

John placed a hand on your shoulder, the solid weight anchoring something inside you.

Taehyung was taken away by a man in his mid-forties. He didn’t go with him until you gave him your permission or more accurately told him to follow him and do what he asked. You hated that part, ordering him to do something knowing he will do it without question. But you did what you had to do.

You gave your statement and pointed at Hyungjoon in a lineup of men, most of which you could recognize from the auction. Subconsciously you had memorized much more than just the way in and the way out. The police offered to give you back the money you had spent at the auction when they found a way to take over the auction’s accounts. You declined, asking them to give the money to organizations protecting hybrid rights.

After everything was said and done, Yujin asked to speak to you alone in her office. Puzzled, you told John to stay in the waiting room and you would be back shortly. In his face, you saw the split second he thought of protesting, of asking to come with you. He didn’t, only telling you he would be there if you needed anything.

“Take a seat,” Yujin said gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk.

You did, keeping your back straight. The posture of an A-list celebrity. “May I ask what you wanted to talk about?”

“Of course.” She took off her jacket and hung it over the back of her leather chair. “I don’t want to take up more of your time. But there is an important matter I wanted to discuss with you.” You nodded for her to go ahead. “It’s about Taehyung.”

Your body went stiff. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he had been taken away.

“Taehyung? Is there something wrong?”

“No, not exactly,” she said. “It’s about you as much as it is about Taehyung. That’s why I called you here. Two people escaped from the auction, who know you were there and they will expect to see you with Taehyung. You are one of the only four guests who left the auction before we got inside, they could be keeping an eye on you.”

A spike of ice pierced your stomach, it had been built piece by piece since you first heard they hadn’t caught everyone. Gathering until frost was spreading all around your body.

“We aren’t sure, it’s nothing but a speculation,” Yujin rushed to add but it didn’t make it any better. “The most possible scenario is that they are rushing to leave the country not caring about what happens to any of you. But we have to take into account every possibility. And the fact remains that they will expect to see you with the hybrid you paid millions of dollars to get. Not only them but also the ones who attended the auction and will be released later. We should have considered it before but we grabbed a lead and ran with it. We didn’t have enough time for proper planning.”

Someone was shouting outside. You rubbed your bare arms. The temperature was low in the offices.

“What am I supposed to do then?” you asked.

Yujin sighed. “I won’t force you to do anything. It’s your decision but- It would be better if Taehyung stayed with you for a while. A few months at most. Then you can take him to an adoption center and if anyone asks you can say you got bored of him, that he wasn’t what you had wanted.”

“That will be beyond traumatizing for him,” you said sharply. “Giving him a home only to take it away from him. You saw how he is. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t look anyone in the eye unless he is told to. He-” You almost told her of how you had walked into your room to find him kneeling on the bed naked, ready to do whatever was asked of him. You didn’t. Even thinking of it made you nauseous. “I can’t do that to him.”

You couldn’t welcome someone into your home, into your life, and kick them out after a few months. You had seen the show many times. You wouldn’t turn someone away, you could only let them go.

“He needs love and care. He has been through hell and back. I won’t do anything that will cause him harm.”

Yujin pinned you with a stare. “He isn’t going to receive any of that at an adoption center and that’s where he’s going if you don’t take him with you. I understand if you don’t want to. You already have six hybrids to take care of as well as a very hectic career. Regardless, I have to inform you of any dangers that you may face and any way to prevent them that we can come up with.”

You sank into the chair. “Are there no other ways?”

She shook her head. “Not any we have found.”

“I’m leaving for Los Angeles in a few hours. I can’t take him with me, all his papers are forged.”

“They had thought of that before auctioning them off. They have managed to trick the system. You will be free to travel with him anywhere you want. He is already registered under your name. Hyungjoon had lawyers and people in hybrid centers working with him, we have a few of their names. They have ensured that none of the buyers would face any problems that could be traced back to them.”

You scoffed. “For such a well-organized business, they went down quickly.”

“All thanks to you,” Yujin reminded you.

You checked the time on your phone. You had to make a decision and make it fast. You weren’t prepared to adopt another hybrid. Shouldn’t adopt another hybrid. But Taehyung was haunting your every thought. You felt responsible for him, you couldn’t deny it.

You sent a quick message to Namjoon hoping he had his phone close. The text bubble appeared, he was writing back. The first bubble appeared. And another.

“I have to book another flight.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Amelia was a god-sent gift. You called her and the first thing you told her was; “Amelia, I don’t care how many strings you pull or how much it costs. I want a private jet to take me to Los Angeles this morning.” In twenty minutes, she had a private jet ready for you and every person in the crew signing an NDA.

John had frowned.

“Are you going to smuggle him out of the country?”

“I’m not smuggling him out of the country!”

You had explained to him what Yujin had told you, that the papers they had given you at the auction were enough to travel to Los Angeles without anyone asking questions. There, you would have to go to Amelia to tweak a few parts and make some changes. For now, they were good enough. He didn’t try to change your mind, you could tell that he had been thinking over the situation and how it would affect you long before Amelia had called you to her office.

Yujin had left after calling someone to bring the tiger hybrid to you. The case wasn’t closed yet and there was a myriad of things left to do. An officer accompanied Taehyung into the waiting area outside her office. There was a slight tremor in Taehyung’s hands.

Before the man could leave, you asked, “Do you speak English?”

He shifted from foot to foot, unprepared. “A little.”

“Could you translate a few things for me? I don’t think he understands English very well.”

The officer seemed nervous but he nodded. The hardest part about a foreign language was speaking it, understanding it came easier.

You turned to Taehyung, bending so you could look at his face. He looked as beautiful as he had when you had first seen him but the night had taken a toll on him. His makeup was melting, leaving his skin oily and shiny, and his hair was disheveled despite the products they must have used to style it before the auction.

You hoped they had explained everything to him, that you weren’t like the people who had held him captive.

“I’ll be leaving for Los Angeles soon. That’s where I live, where my house is.” You spoke slowly and waited for the officer to translate before you continued. “I would like it very much if you would come with me. But it’s your choice. If you don’t want to, you can go to a hybrid center. They will take care of you there.”

The man translated. Silence spread and you were almost sure Taehyung wouldn’t answer. He did. His low voice sent a shiver down your back.

“He said you are his owner and he will come with you,” the man said in a thick accent.

“If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to. I won't be mad. It's his decision.”

The officer stared at you for a few seconds before repeating your words in Korean. “He said he’ll come with you.”

“Oh. Okay. Uhmm, thanks for translating.”

The officer bowed his head and left.

Taehyung was officially in your care. As official as it could be taking into account the forged documents. But you had the okay from the police and that had to count for something.

You went back to the hotel to pick up your suitcases and check out. You sent a message to the showrunner of Paper Hearts to let her know that something had come up and you wouldn’t be flying back with them. On the way to the airport, you stopped at a bakery and bought some breakfast for the flight. It had become a tradition to get takeout before a flight despite the fact that they offered food on the plane.

You asked Taehyung what he wanted but all he said was; “What you want, mistress”.

“You can call me by my name,” you said, uncomfortable with the title. “I would prefer that.”

He looked at you like it was a test. You were too tired and the language barrier was too hard to navigate so you let it go.

You were terrified you had made a mistake. Taehyung was in a vulnerable position and you had taken advantage of that to cover yourself. He was following you because he believed he should be serving you. However, it wouldn’t be much better for him at an adoption center where he would be gawked at by people looking to get hybrids or locked away in his room because they couldn’t sell him.

The private jet was a little larger than what you were used to, definitely larger than what you needed. You guessed it was the only jet Amelia could rent and get ready for a flight last minute. A long black leather couch stretched on one side with a table in front of it looking ahead at a plasma TV. A vase full of white roses was decorating the table. There were also two leather armchairs on either side of the couch that could spin around. Six more seats were ahead, two on one side and four on the other leaving an empty aisle between them. They were facing each other with two tables between them

This trip would cost you a pretty penny. Normally, you wouldn’t entertain the idea of spending that much money on a flight but given the special circumstances, you weren’t regretting it.

The flight attendant welcomed you, informing you that the jet would be taking off soon. You collapsed on the seat by the window in the group of four, John taking the seat facing yours. You crossed your arms on the table and buried your face in them.

“Finally,” you said. “This trip was endless.”

“Tell me about it,” John agreed.

Promotional tours could range from a couple of weeks to a couple of months so you were on the short end. It still felt endless. Being away from home was getting harder and harder.

You surfaced from your self-made pillow and you noticed that Taehyung wasn’t sitting.

“Take a seat,” you told him realizing he was waiting for you to tell him what to do. You would have to work on that. “You can sit down.”

Wordlessly, Taehyung took the seat next to yours.

“Do you want to sleep?” you asked. Taehyung looked up at you. You guessed the faint expression on his face was confusion. “Wait, I should call Hobi. Maybe he doesn’t know what sleep means.”

You pulled your phone out of your bag but paused.

“What?” John asked. “What are you overthinking about?”

You grimaced. “I’m not…” You couldn’t bring yourself to lie, not after a whole night of lying. Not to John. “I should have called them at the police station. I texted Namjoon but… He must have told them by now. What if they are angry?”

“I don’t think they will be,” John said honestly. “It’s for your safety. They won’t hold this against you, they want you to be safe. And it isn’t like it’s the first time you’re showing up with spontaneously acquired hybrids.”

“It’s the first time for Hoseok and Yoongi.”

“May I remind you that Hoseok and Yoongi used to be those acquired hybrids?”

The day Jimin had run after Yoongi felt like ages away but also like it was last week. A lot had happened since then, many things had changed. Some things you hadn’t noticed at first. Yoongi and Hoseok were a part of your family now, it didn’t matter if the panther hybrid wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

It wasn’t so long ago you had run out in the middle of the night before the crack of dawn and Yoongi had disappeared leaving no traces behind. Two months. How little that seemed. How long it could be. Lives could change in two months.

“They are still adjusting. And Yoongi,” you trailed off. “I don’t think I can handle his anger now. Things have been going so well and this could ruin that.”

Through the speakers the captain announced that you would be soon taking off, asking you to fasten your seatbelts. You helped Taehyung with his, you guessed it was his first time wearing one.

“Yoongi may surprise you,” John said when the captain stopped speaking.

“There are many kinds of surprises.”

“You have to learn how to think positively instead of always expecting the worst.”

The jet ran smoothly down the runway, taking off without a hitch. If you hadn’t been looking out of the window, you wouldn’t have noticed that you had left the ground.

“Ten hours to Los Angeles,” John said.

“Ten hours to home.”

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

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Bitter Taste - LN

@gvcnnnnnnnbvszxv prompt request #24- "I knew you'd break my heart."

Summary: Lando thinks breaking up is what's best when the hate gets too much, but y/n didn't want to let go that easily. But now it's like they never happened.

Warning: Sad ending

Word count: 1.1k

*2021*

Y/n tries to stop her lip from quivering as she blinks a little really trying to force herself to listen to Lando speak, but his voice is muffled by the pounding in her head.

She feels sick and she knows that he really believes this is the best solution.

"You're not even willing to fight for this." Y/n whispers biting her lip making Lando stop his rambling that had started as he tried to explain himself and why he felt this was best.

"I can't let other people hurt you anymore baby."

"You think breaking up with me is going to make them stop? You're lying to yourself just as much as you're lying to me with that sort of bullshit." Y/n mutters then sucking in a breath as she finally finds her bearings and stands up. "I'll pack up my stuff and leave. Just give me a couple hours."

"You don't have to take everything now, we can-"

"If you think I want to come back here or have other people come here or have any reminder of you that isn't already going to be pushed in my face by the same people you're blaming for this. Then you never knew me, but honestly you've already proven that." Y/n scoffs shaking her head.

Y/n gets to work packing up everything and somehow keeping her head held high, but she knows the tears are coming.

"Let me help." Lando mumbles seeing her struggle with the suitcase but she moves it out his reach swiftly.

"You've helped enough." Y/n snaps feeling her hurt and sadness breaking into a moment of anger.

"I'm sorry."

"You'd never have done this for that reason if you really felt anything for me. So whatever you're choosing of us, I really hope it's worth it because I know you weren't."

She's speaking from a dark and nasty place, a place that didn't exist before today and she wants him to know that he did this to himself.

-

*Present Day*

Lando knew what he lost as soon as y/n left and he's moved on. Or at least that's what he tells himself with his new girlfriend, Violet. She's a model, fits the F1 WAG label very well and they're happy.

From what he knows y/n has moved on too, she found a partner who gave her the life she always deserved. Though they could've broken up since he hasn't seen her post about him for a long time. But if they have, she hasn't deleted any evidence of his existence from her socials like she did with Lando. Even if she didn't block him and force him to unfollow her, she did unfollow him and seems to have filtered his name from her comments on her posts.

He was wiped before she even got on her flight out of Nice, although she's still there on his page.

Only one post remains that suggests he was ever part of her life and it's a picture of her on her flight home after their break up captioned "I knew you'd break my heart". That actually earned waves of hate to Lando since his fans suddenly switched up their attitudes and let Lando have a piece of their mind over the fact he broke things off with y/n.

They still make edits of the two and posts about their relationship saying they wish y/n would come back to Lando and Lando would take his head out his arse.

He can't deny he has regrets about how things ended, he has regrets about losing someone who brought joy to his every day the way she did.

That's how he ends up seeing her on live on her instagram getting ready for a date night. The chat knows he's there, they've made sure to point it out in the comments where his name isn't filtered for the live.

"Ok, guys. That's not really something I want to think about." Y/n sighs with a twinge of hurt crossing her expression.

Eventually she exposes that she is not spending Valentine's day with any man but actually she's having a Galentine's day with all her girls who are also spending the day alone.

Then the live ends and Lando feels his mood deflate immediately. It's frustrating that he's in a new relationship but just one interaction with y/n and the smallest indirect acknowledgement of his existence lifted him.

He does take Violet out for their own Valentine's day dinner but his mind is anywhere but on the woman across from him as she talks about whatever it is she's filling the voice with.

Y/n haunts him in his dreams that night, as she had in the months following their break up.

He was never sure if she blocked his number or got a new number but he wakes up at an ungodly hour, not able to keep seeing her every time he closes his and he texts the number he still has for her. Her username still saved as "lover girl", he winces tapping her contact and seeing their old conversations pop up.

They were so in love, just remembering how they ended leaves a bitter taste in Lando's mouth.

He should stop himself, but he sends the message asking if she'd be up to talk.

It has a delivered label.

"Idiot." Lando mutters feeling like a fool for even trying especially at such a time of day, but then the delivered changes to read.

The three little dots appear and he feels his heart rate pick up before they disappear and are replaced with a message that he really should've expected.

I think you've text the wrong number.

Should've seen that one coming.

He tries to send another message and sighs seeing the rest of his messages go undelivered. She hadn't blocked him but him bringing attention to that has meant that she corrected that error quickly.

It'd been too long to go back.

She always deserved for him to fight harder, she'd never let the hate get to her the way he pretended she did. It was him who couldn't handle it and he masked his pain as her to make things end between them.

He has no one to blame but himself and he was a coward when y/n was in his life. Now he has to watch her thrive while he drowns in his regret and guilt that haunts in the form of her ghost.

accepting it- c.leclerc

summary: charles has been a bit too distant during your pregnancy, and what max said about his own child brought some ugly truths to the surface, hurting you in the process. charles realises his mistake, but it's just too late for you to believe him.

pairing: husband! charles leclerc x fem! pregnant! wife! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

The quiet unlocking of the door was what had woken you, Charles was sure of it. He hadn’t wanted to, mostly because he knew he’d say something stupid and piss you off. He wouldn’t mean to, but he would. That’s what the start of the season was, that’s what becoming a father was, that’s what the stress did to him. 

“Hey handsome,” you smiled sleepily from the coach, all bundled up in blankets as some random Netflix series played on the screen. 

“Hey beautiful,” he exhaled harshly, then turned to you, (fake) smiling. “You alright?”

You nodded. “Just tired,” you yawned. “Want to head to bed?”

He nodded with a groan. “Yes, please.” 

He helped you up off the couch and it hit him how close you were to giving birth. You were in the third trimester, heavily pregnant with a slightly complicated pregnancy. He grimaced when he saw you grabbing your back in pain. 

“Alright?” he asked as you winced. 

You took a deep breath and continued on to your bedroom. “Fine,” you said through gritted teeth, the pain easing. 

He led you over to your side of the bed and helped you lie down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned out the lights, ready to sink into his side of the bed after his exhausting day. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He woke up to the sound of vomiting. It wasn’t usual to hear, but it had gotten less frequent as the pregnancy went on. “You alright baby?” he called out. 

His question was met with more vomiting. He huffed as he pulled himself out of bed and walked to the bathroom, looking at you hunched over the toilet. He frowned and knelt beside you, holding your hair. After another few minutes the vomiting stopped and you looked up at him, exhausted and sick. 

“Feels any better?” he asked. You shook your head and he frowned again, pulling you into his chest. He smoothed a hand through your hair as you leant against him, trying to calm yourself down. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “You’re alright.” 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Brunch was going to be hell on earth for both of you, but you still both dressed up and got in the car, pretending to be excited about the family luncheon. 

“Can you believe Max said he wouldn’t miss a race for the birth of his baby?” you scoffed, scrolling through your phone as Charles drove to his mother’s house. “Poor Kelly.”

Charles gulped beside you. He’d been dreading this conversation for weeks, unsure when to have it. It’s not that he didn’t want to be there for the birth of his child, he did, badly, but he couldn’t throw away championship points for anything. He’d make an exception if it was a sprint race, but other than that… he couldn’t chance it. “Well, he has a good reason to,” he shrugged nervously. 

You turned your head to him, shock painting your features. “Are you joking right now?” 

Charles shrugged. “Not really. He’s the World Champion and he needs to stay on top this year, especially if it’s his last year, which he’s thinking it might be. I understand where he’s coming from.”

You were both quiet for a minute, taking in what he’d said. 

“So what about us?” you asked in a small voice. 

“You’re due on a non-race week,” he shrugged. “We just hope she doesn’t come earlier than that.” 

He didn’t dare look over at you, scared of what he might see. He knew this was selfish, but he couldn’t piss away his chance at being champion, not when he’d worked his entire life for it, not when his parents, family, and friends gave up so much.  

“Oh,” you breathed out, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Alright then.” 

The rest of the car ride was silent, you watched the streets of Monaco whip by you as Charles drove up to his mother’s house, and you thought. Thought about giving birth alone. Thought about how Charles had promised you he’d be there. Thought about how shitty it felt to be second to his job. You wiped your unshed tears away before you walked inside.

When you walked inside, Pascale instantly knew something was wrong. Charlotte immediately took you away to chat together, and Lorenzo was too busy giving out to Arthur about breaking up with Jade to notice, but Pascale noticed. She saw the way Charles watched you from across the room, trying desperately to catch your eye, to gauge your reaction, something. 

She pulled him aside. “What’s wrong?” 

He sighed. “Maman, it’s nothing-”

“What did you say to your wife?” he demanded. He looked down, ashamed. He knew he was in the wrong, but he still felt justified, though that justification was slowly dwindling. 

“We were talking about how Max wouldn’t miss a race for his baby, and I said I’d do the same,” he admitted. 

“Excuse me?” Lorenzo inserted himself in the conversation. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Arthur was even looking at him in disgust, Arthur. “Charles, that’s not right-” 

“You don’t get to talk, alright?” he shot at his younger brother, who quietened out of shock. “And what else am I supposed to do? Every single year in Formula One I feel the championship falling away from me! Y/n understands-”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Pascale interjected. “Do you want that little girl? The one your wife has been carrying without complaint for 8 months?” 

Charles nodded vigorously. “Of course I do-!” 

“So you should be there for the woman who’s carrying her! She has been pregnant basically on her own for the past 8 months, either you were racing, or training, or enjoying your break - which meant doing extreme sports that she cannot do! That woman loves you too much to see how you’ve been treating her, and it’s sad, Charles. She does everything for you, and you’re even entertaining the idea of not being there for her while she goes through possibly one of the most painful experiences of her life? Are you insane?” she argued, shocked at her own son's selfishness. “If you cannot see that the woman you love is more important than a race win, you should really just let Y/n go and find a man that actually loves her. Not one who is more focused on his personal goals than the goals of his family. Your father and I raised you to be a racer, yes, but first and foremost we raised you to be a good person. And being a good person means being a good husband and father to your family, which is just starting.” 

Charles stood there for a moment in silence, ashamed of his behaviour. “You’re right.” 

“I know I am,” she scoffed. “Go make it right with Y/n, now.” 

Charles scurried off to find you in the garden with Charlotte, she had her arms around you as you explained everything that had happened, how distant Charles had been, what he’d said about the birth, everything. Charlotte sent him a particularly withering look as he stepped out into the sun, and he knew he deserved it. 

“Can I talk to my wife?” he asked, standing behind you. 

“She’s busy right now Charles,” Charlotte scoffed. “I’m just trying to calm her down from crying. Come back later.” 

His heart broke slightly, he knew you’d been taking the burden of the baby a lot more than he had (obviously), and he thought he was being gracious by not bringing it up. He thought he was doing the right thing by giving you space, but he was just subconsciously trying to ignore the fact that his life was going to change drastically and that he was scared. Still, he never thought he’d be the one to make you cry. 

“Please,” he begged. 

You gave Charlotte a nod, and she smiled at you sadly, then left you to talk. He took the seat she had been sitting in and placed a hand on your thigh. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m ruining the whole day.” 

His heart actually broke then. He was being a dick, he was in the wrong, and you were apologising. What the actual fuck? He shook his head, squeezing your thigh. “No. If anyone ruined today, it was me. My selfishness has been ruining this entire pregnancy for you,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry.” 

You stared up at him in shock. 

“You’ve been doing this on your own since day one, and that’s my personal failing. I’m sorry that I was so… distant. I was busy getting in my own head about my career, when the most important thing was right in front of me. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me,” he took your hand and squeezed, looking at the ground. 

“Charles, I know what I signed up for when I married you,” you admitted, dropping his hand. “I know you’re ambitious, I know you want to win, and I know you won’t stop until you’re the best. Sometimes it just… gets to me that I’m not enough for you, that our family isn’t enough for you. It’s just… hard sometimes, alright? And if I’m being honest this is a bit too much too late. I know my place in your life, and I’ve accepted it. I just hope you prioritise our daughter more than you prioritise me,” you tearfully explained before getting up and going back inside. 

Was that really the standard he’d set for the love of his life? Surely not?  He had to fix this, and quick.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

hiya, i have no idea if you do requests but i have a very brief and simple idea, which you can do your own take on - overly sensitive reader is dating oscar piastri & people are bothering her online but she doesn't tell oscar, instead she hides it and acts like she's fine but one night, she's in bed with him but then moves out to the living room & she's reading people's posts and messages about her not deserving him and she just sobs her eyes out, very quietly, thinking he's asleep - but he's not and he hears her, he walks out to the sight of her crying,,, then you can do whatever you want! just basically a hurt/comfort fic idea :) thank you!

𝒏ote , hi nonnie! thank you so much for requesting this. im convinced he is the sweetest sweetest bf and this thought goes so well with him . . .

fem!reader x oscar piastri. established relationship. hurt -> comfort. fluff. insecure!reader. mean online comments.

you knew better.

you knew better than to look. you knew better than to click on the notifications, the comments, the threads where strangers, bold and faceless, tore you apart like it cost them nothing.

you know it’s not true. these people don’t you. they don’t really know oscar. they don’t know anything about your relationship. and you knew better than to give them so much power over you, but you did it anyway.

it felt like a constant in your night routine at this point. after the steady rise and fall of oscar’s chest tells you he’s surrendered to sleep, you slip quietly from the bed.

you try to convince yourself you’re just stretching your legs, grabbing some water, anything to justify the gnawing pull toward your phone, toward the weight you tuck away during the day but can’t seem to ignore when it’s dark and that inner voice manages to convince you to look.

you curl up on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies that still smells faintly like him, like the smell of your safe space can wrap around you and stop the words from piercing as deep as they always do.

“he could have anyone and he settles for that?”

“you can’t convince me she’s there for anything but the money”

“he could do way better”

“why do the best guys always tend to settle for the most basic, gold digging girls”

one after another they appear on the screen. picking apart your body, your intelligence, your motives.

you don’t even realize you’re crying until the drops fall on the screen. little blots of water smearing and obstructing the words that had already twisted like knives in your chest.

you know you should turn it off. climb into bed and let oscar cuddle away all the insecurities gnawing at your chest. but it feels like you’re stuck. like if you just read one more comment, maybe you’ll find one that makes it all make sense, one that explains why you feel like you’ll never be enough for him.

you flinch when a familiar hand gently closes over yours, steady and warm, taking the phone from you. you hadn’t even heard him come in.

you don’t move, don’t blink, don’t breathe as he scrolls through the comments himself, brow furrowing more and more the further he goes.

after a few minutes he locks the phone and discards it on the table, settling next to you and pulling you onto his lap.

“you know none of it is true right?” he mumbles against your head, pressing a kiss to your temple and you sniffle

“osc—” you go to argue but he interrupts

“no” he says, the word so blunt and direct it catches you so off guard for a second that you pull your head away from his chest to look at him

“i’m not gonna sit here and listen to you justify what they’re saying. they don’t know you. they don’t know me. and they sure as shit don’t know anything about our relationship” he says, shaking his head slightly at the utter ridiculousness of what he just read.

“but it’s true. i’m not perfect and you could do so much bet—“ you mumble but he interrupts you again before you get the chance to finish, this time with his lips on yours, kissing you until those thoughts float away and the only thing you can focus on is the way his hand is running through your hair

“you’re perfect with me, to me, and for me. hell perfect doesn’t even begin to describe you baby. you’re everything. you’re all I want. the only way these people have any power over you is if you actually believe there’s some truth to what they’re saying. do you?” oscar asks, holding your jaw so you can’t look away from him.

“are you only with me for the money? the attention?” oscar asks, raising his eyebrows dramatically in a way that makes you wanna laugh and by the slight tilt in his lips, he knows.

“no” you say softly and he gasps in mock surprise

“really? I for sure thought you were” he teases and laughs when you hit him playfully.

“i’m just kidding baby. you hate attention even more than I do and you practically tackle me every time I try to pay for anything. and if you think for even one second that I don’t believe you’re the sexiest woman in the world, you come tell me and I’ll prove you wrong, yeah?” he says, pressing kiss after kiss against your temple, your cheek, your nose, your jaw, your lips. every inch he can reach.

“I love you” you say softly, hoping your gratitude for him shines through in your tone.

“I love you the most,” he murmurs back, no hesitation, no doubt. just the pure, simple truth.

his hands gently frame your face, thumbs brushing away the last of your tears with a tenderness that makes your chest ache all over again, but in a different way this time. a softer way.

“let’s go to bed,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion and affection as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, leaving your phone and all the negativity on it right there on the table.

Stuck With You || Chapter 2

Warnings: abuse, trauma, lost of parents. very sensitive topics here in this story.

Wordcount; 1k652

Summary: a nice dinner and a little back story 

Story inspired by @sunsoothed​, credits to her for some the scenes and inspiration. Please read her fic ‘after the rain’ which has inspired this story

Chapters: 1 - 2

________________________

“what?” 

Keep reading

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A Year to Celebrate - [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Format: Social Media

A/N: This is the last Social Media AU I have planned for now when it comes to Mini Verstappen. More may eventually get posted.

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

maxverstappen1

Liked by ynverstappen, victoriaverstappen, and 294,186 others

tagged: ynverstappen

maxverstappen1 Happy Birthday, my love. Another year older, and you grow more beautiful by the day.

View all 835 comments

fan17 Why do I feel like Nico had a hand in designing Y/N's cake?

fan42 Max, please stop simping on main... we get it!

fan87 Does she age at all? Seriously, I don't think she's aged a day since we've been getting pictures of her.

maxverstappen1

Liked by ynverstappen, danielricciardo and 756,457 others

tagged: ynverstappen

maxverstappen1 Happy Anniversary, mijn leeuwin. Married for three years and together for 7. We have shared and been through so much in that time. You becoming a mom to our boys, always being able to support each other in whatever we accomplish, and loving me through everything that comes our way.

ynverstappen Love you, mijn leeuw ☺️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

fan42 New fan here. They've only been together how long??

fan78 Wow, time really does fly by. I still remember when Max first started posting pictures of Y/N to his instagram stories.

fan17 Look at Y/N practicing her dutch!

Feb 2, 2028

ynverstappen

Liked by danielricciardo, victoriaverstappen, and 578,231 others

ynverstappen Going through this beautiful journey one last time

kimi.antonelli When you are no long Mum's youngest child... 😭

View all 452 comments

fan52 Her nails are pink. Does that mean that they're having a girl?

fan28 I would die if they are finally having a girl.

fan37 Is that Max ducking out of the first picture?

fan93 Dude, we know it’s you who got her pregnant. There’s no need to hide.

fan75 Are we just going to pretend not to see what Kimi posted as a comment? When did Max and Y/N adopt him?

July 3, 2028

maxverstappen1

Liked by sophiekumpen, charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel, and 625,095 others

maxverstappen1 I've grown up with so many amazing women in my life. From my mom, my sister, to my wife, and now my daughter. My life wouldn't be the same without these women in it.

danielricciardo Whoever owes me money, pay up! I told you all!!!

pierregasly No! You were supposed to have another boy. alex_albon Pretty sure that's not how conception works. You can't just choose whether you have a boy or a girl. landonorris Can I mail you your winnings?? Or do you take Cash App?

View all 1,382 comments

fan38 Max is FINALLY A GIRL DAD!!!!

fan57 Confirmation that all of Max's kids have Nic/k names?

fan92 As much as I’m here for Max finally being a girl dad… Y/N finally no longer being the only woman in the house. Now that’s something I can get behind.

fan76 Sophie must be so happy to finally have a granddaughter.

fan20 I hope we get some pics of Max having a tea party with his daughter when she's older. I demand to see photos of Max staring the camera down in a tiara.

fan45 Is Max trying to beat Checo in having children as well?

Nov 20, 2028

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127, @mysticalnightenthusiast, @green-thots, @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp, @ellelabelle, @lilypat, @dreamercrowd