#((DOUBLE UPDATE TO GET BACK ON TRACK))

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Five

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, detailed meltdown on-page, angst.

Notes — Another double update, go me! PSA: Our Amelia has a bit of a difficult time in this one. Take care of yourselves x

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

2019

WhatsApp Groupchat — The 2019 F1 Grid

Charles L. I have found an iPad in Ferrari hospitality. It is engraved with the initials A.B. Any ideas?

Lewis H. Does it have a bunny sticker on it?

Charles L. Yes!

Lewis H. That’s Amelia’s, then.

Lando N. lol I’ll come get it just gimme 10 mins im in a debrief rn 

Charles L. Sure no problem Amelia is Zak Brown’s daughter, yes?

George R. Yeah mate The smart one.

Sebastian V. Haha. She is the one Binotto wants? Brown hair, pretty smile?

Lando N. Bro.

Lewis H. @Sebastian — Mattia has tried to get her to Ferrari?

Sebastian V. Yes. He’s offered her some very lucrative opportunities. She has so far turned all of them down.

Carlos S. She’s loyal to McLaren. Leave her to us, yes?

Valtteri B. But if she ever decided to go elsewhere, Mercedes would make sense.

Lewis H. Yeah obviously 👍🏻

Lando N. ????????????

Lance S. If she was offered a million dollars to fix the Racing Point car, do you think she’d take it? Not a hypothetical. My dad wants to know.

Max V. Money won’t work. You forget she’s already the child of a millionaire.

Lance S. Damn it.

Kimi R. Is this the child always in Norris’ garage?

Lando N. Don’t call her a child we are literally the same age

Kimi R. That does not change the fact

Daniel R. But seriously, why was she even in Ferrari hospitality in the first place?

Max V. Ice cream.

Lando N. Ice cream 

Lewis H. Ice cream.

Sebastian V. I can confirm she was here for ice cream. Pistachio, specifically.

Charles L. I cannot believe I’ve still never met her. Is she really so smart?

Lando N. Yes.

Pierre G. Absolutely.

Max V. Smarter than you are capable of comprehending, Charles.

Charles L. Then I suppose I will just have to charm her into accepting Mattia’s offer 😌

Lando N. I will put in the wall, Leclerc.

Charles L. Oh! You are together with her, Lando? I didn’t know!

Lando N. No, we’re not together.

Charles L. Then I am confused.

Max V. Her father has practically forbade them from dating. Total nonsense if you ask me.

Carlos S. They are dating.

Daniel R. @Carlos 😳😳😳

Lando N. @Carlos NO WE ARE NOT STOP SAYING THAT

Sergio P. Mucho defensive…

Carlos S. He wrote his race number on her shoes.

Lando N. So what? That means nothing.

Daniel R. Oh brother….

Max V. Yeah, sorry, I can’t even back you on that one Lando. That’s a lot.

Kimi R. My wife had my number stitched into her shoes. We got married six months later.

George R. So Kimi is saying you’re basically engaged, bro.

Lewis H. Let’s stop talking about this. Before Lando has a full on meltdown.

Charles L. Too late. He has arrived for the iPad with a terrible attitude. 

Lando N. I hate all of you.

— 

Subject: Workplace Conduct Reminder – Inclusivity & Respect at McLaren

From: HR Department To: All McLaren Racing Staff Date: [Sunday, post-race, 10:42 PM]

Dear Team,

As the season continues and tensions rise both on and off the track, we’d like to take a moment to remind everyone of McLaren’s core values — collaboration, respect, and inclusion.

We are incredibly proud of the diversity across our team, from engineering to strategy, operations to communications. Every person is here because they bring something exceptional to the table — and that includes our colleagues who may experience or perceive the world differently than others.

We ask that all team members remain mindful of the following:

Neurodiversity is not a barrier — it is an asset. Please be conscious of language and behaviour that may unintentionally alienate or diminish the contributions of individuals who may process things differently. This includes members of our extended team, trusted advisors, and collaborators who work closely with us — regardless of job title or official role.

“Vibes” are not a metric — Judging someone’s energy, personality, or communication style is not only unprofessional but also unfair. Everyone representing or contributing to McLaren, formally or informally, deserves respect.

Support one another — Whether someone wears McLaren orange full-time or contributes behind the scenes, everyone here plays a part in our collective success.

Rumours are not culture — Let’s keep paddock gossip out of professional spaces. If you have concerns, we encourage you to speak directly to your manager or HR.

This message is not in response to any one incident but rather a gentle pit stop reminder: our team functions best when everyone feels seen, heard, and safe.

If you have any questions or want to speak to someone in confidence, please feel free to reach out to HR directly. We’re here to help.

Kind regards, The McLaren Racing HR Team [hr@mclarenracing.co.uk]

— 

iMessage — 11:40pm

Lando Yo, did you see the email?

Carlos Sí.

Lando Kinda hardcore. Glad Zak did something 

Carlos Somebody said something to Amelia?

Lando Yeah someone in PR idk I feel like I should know more about her stuff I feel stupid tho. Like I don’t know anything. Just that she’s Amelia yano 

Carlos I did some reading. Come to my hotel room. We eat pizza. I will teach you what I know and we can google the rest.

Lando Legend. Thanks, mate.

— 

The course he took her to wasn’t flashy — quiet, tucked away, the kind of place her dad’s friends would never be caught dead in. That was intentional. They weren’t exactly hiding their… friendship, but they weren’t trying to advertise it either.

Amelia stared down at the club he’d handed her like it was a piece of martian debris.

“This is very stupid,” she muttered. “Pointless, really.”

“It is,” Lando agreed, his lips twitching. “Just hit the ball.”

She squinted at the tiny white ball he’d settled on the grass in front of her. “Is it supposed to just… go?”

“Yes.”

“Like in a line?” she clarified, glancing at him.

He shrugged. “In theory.”

She swung. Missed.

Lando clapped anyway. “Incredible form. I’ve never seen such calculated failure.”

“It was bad,” she said seriously. “I didn’t hit the ball. I made a hole in the grass, Lando.” She stared down at the muddy crater with quiet horror.

He just gave her an encouraging nod, gesturing for her to try again.

She sighed, feeling the beginning of a stress rash creep along her neck. But she tried again. And that time, she hit it — not far, just a lazy roll across the grass — but enough to surprise herself. Lando caught the way her eyes widened, saw the exact moment the thrill overtook her frustration.

He didn’t say anything. Just handed her another ball.

They kept going like that for a while — her slowly getting the hang of it, him slipping in dumb jokes and patient explanations between swings. She never asked for help, but he noticed how closely she watched every move he made. Her eyes, always sharp, always calculating.

Eventually, she dropped to the grass with a dramatic sigh and said, “Why do people think this is relaxing? I’m hot and my legs are tired.”

Lando chuckled and sat beside her, kicking his legs out long. “I think it’s relaxing. Your dad likes it.”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad. It makes me stressed.”

“Yeah?” He asked.

She pulled at a blade of grass, rolled it between her fingers. “He told me again that it would be better if I stayed away from you. He said it would make things easier. For me. For you. For the team.” She continued. 

Lando let the silence sit for a moment before asking, his voice quiet and slightly unsure. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I want him to not worry. I want him to trust me. I want…” She hesitated, frowning at the grass. “I want to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like I might wreck everything.” 

“You’re not wrecking anything,” Lando said. He tapped the ground next to her leg and she glanced at him, blinking. “I like hanging out with you.” He told her. 

She didn’t say anything, just flicked the blade of grass from her fingers and looked at the trees that surrounded the course. “I don’t know what I feel yet,” she said finally. “Toward you, I mean. But I know that I have liked this. Today. Not the golf. Being with you.”

Lando grinned — couldn’t help himself. Probably looked like a right knob, but he didn’t care. “Want to keep playing?” He asked. 

She gave him a look. “I might get fined for ruining so much of their grass.”

He handed her another ball. Shrugged. Smirked. “It’s fine. I make a lot of money.” 

She rolled her eyes.

— 

Amelia shut her bedroom door with more force than she meant to and leaned against it, breath caught high in her chest like she’d just ran a marathon. Her bag hit the floor. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t know why. Except; she did.

Her body was full of something too big. Too much. A knot of heat and noise and confusion that had no exit. It felt like all the inside parts of her were pressing outward, like she might split open if she didn't stay still.

She pressed her palms hard into her eyes like she could push it all back in. But it was already too late. The thoughts were everywhere; spilled oil, tangled cords, static static static. Her brain wouldn’t quiet down. Wouldn’t give her space to think.

She’d had a good day. That was the worst part. 

Lando had been good.

He never looked at her like she was difficult. He didn’t act like she was hard work. When she didn’t catch onto something the first time, he just explained again. No sighing. No staring. No pretending. Things weren’t easy with him, not exactly, but they were lighter. Easier.

She sat hard on her bed and the tears came without warning; fast, silent, relentless.

She didn’t cry often. Usually she just shut down. Usually the wall slammed down before anything could spill out. But this time everything had slipped past it, and now she was sobbing, but it didn’t even feel like crying. It felt like her whole nervous system had shattered.

A knock at the door.

“Amelia?” her mum’s voice, soft. “We just got back. Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer. Just turned her face away and wiped at it, even though the tears kept falling. Her skin was already stinging. Her chest was tight.

The door creaked open.

“I’m not upset,” Amelia said fast, panicked. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know why I feel like this. No. I do. I do. I just don’t know what to do with it. And I don’t want to talk about it—except I do. I do, I just—” She broke off, swallowing hard.

Her mum sat on the edge of the bed, calm. Grounding.

“I went out with Lando today,” Amelia said, too fast. “To play golf. His idea. He said we should do something fun. So I did. And it was fun. I didn’t freak out or embarrass myself. I didn’t ruin it. I didn’t ruin it.”

She dug her nails into her palms. Her face was blotchy and sore.

“He makes me feel normal,” she whispered. “Not small. Not like a problem. Just… me. And now I don’t know what I feel. I think I want him to be my friend. Or maybe something else. I don’t know. And I don’t want to know, because it doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Her mum asked calmly.

Amelia blinked at her, and then, like someone flicked a switch, the anger surged. Hot and fast, like a fever.

“Because of Dad,” she spat. “Because he thinks that it would be a distraction. Because he thinks I’ll screw everything up just by being around. Like I’m some walking disease that’s gonna infect Lando’s entire career. I know that’s what he’s worried about the most.”

She was breathing too fast. Her limbs were twitching now, hands clenching and unclenching.

“I don’t have friends,” she said. “You know that. I’ve never had friends. Not ones that stay. I get too intense. Too blunt. Too weird. Too tired. And people always stop trying.”Her voice cracked. Her throat burned. “But Lando didn’t stop. He hasn’t stopped. And it’s still not enough. I still don’t get to have this one good thing without it turning into a problem.”

The sobs came back, messy and loud this time. She stood up too fast, swaying. Her hands started moving uncontrollably at her sides; jerky, uncoordinated. A warning sign. The meltdown was building and she couldn’t stop it, could never stop it. 

Her mum stood too, moving slow, blocking her path without touching her.

“Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to think about any of that right now.” Her mom’s attempts to comfort her were useless against the onslaught of emotions she was feeling. 

“I’m so angry,” Amelia choked out. “I finally feel calm, I finally feel seen, and it’s not allowed. I’m not allowed to want something or feel something if it’s inconvenient for anyone else!”

She was trembling now. Her skin felt wrong. Her body wasn’t hers anymore. She wanted to rip it off. She wanted to scream and break things. Instead, she clenched her fists and shook and shook and shook.

“Do you want me to get your things?” her mum asked, voice calm, anchoring.

Amelia nodded hard. “Yes. My weighted blanket. And the golf ball. It’s in my bag. Lando bought it for me and I want to hold it. It’s yellow.”

“I’ll get everything,” her mum said gently.

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” Amelia shouted, the volume jarring even to herself. “I’m trying so hard. All the time. I’m always trying.”

“I know,” her mum said. “And I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Amelia slid to the floor. Her body folded in on itself, hands clawed into her sleeves, breathing uneven.

The noise in her head kept rising.

Usually, this was when she wanted her dad. Wanted him to sit next to her. Watch a race in silence. Be there without asking anything of her.

But not now.

Now, all she wanted was for him to stay far, far away.

— 

It was almost midnight.

Her room was quiet now; weighted blanket pulled up to her chest, lights off, only the soft blue glow of her phone screen lighting her face. The golf ball sat in her right hand, warm from where she’d been holding it for hours. She kept rolling it between her fingers, feeling the small ridges, the smoothness. Grounding.

She had stopped shaking, but her body was aching like one big bruised muscle. 

She stared at the message thread with Lando, her thumb hovering, retreating, hovering again.

She didn’t know what to say.

Everything in her head still felt too big. Too messy. But the quiet between them was worse. Not bad, not uncomfortable, just... unfamiliar. She wanted to talk to him. 

Finally, she started typing. 

— 

iMessage — 10:11pm

Amelia I didn’t enjoy golf very much. But I liked being with you. Thank you for inviting me.

Lando Norris I’m glad you came anyway We had fun though, right? I had fun :)

Amelia Yes, I had fun. It was confusing. But in a good way. I liked learning something new.

Lando Norris I liked today too You were kind of great We should do more new things together. Just us

Amelia Maybe. I feel strange tonight. My head is a bit loud.

Lando Norris That’s alright

Amelia Do you think if I asked you questions about your Formula Three races… you would answer them?

Lando Norris Absolutely I’d love that Haven’t talked about F3 in ages Might be nice to remember

Amelia Okay. What did it feel like the first time you won?

Lando Norris Like my hands knew before I did Like the whole world stopped for one second so I could catch up It felt… right. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be ya know 

Amelia Oh

Lando Norris: You okay?

Amelia: I forgot all the questions I had for you. Sorry.

Lando Norris That’s okay. Don’t worry. Your brain’s probably sleepy. It’s late Are you tired?

Amelia Yes. I got upset earlier for no reason and it’s made me tired I’ll go to sleep now. Thank you for texting me back. Goodnight.

Lando Norris You don’t have to thank me for that I like talking to you Feel better soon, yeah? Goodnight x

— 

The house was still, the kind of stillness that only came after a storm.

Tracy sat on the couch in the dark, legs curled beneath her, a half-cold mug of tea resting in her hands. She hadn’t moved since she’d come downstairs after leaving Amelia. The couch blanket was draped over her shoulders, but she still shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the heavy weight of witnessing her daughter’s pain. 

Zak entered quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. He didn’t speak at first. Just stood in the doorway, tie loose, shoulders slumped, guilt etched deep into the lines around his eyes. After a long moment, he crossed the room and sat down beside her.

Tracy didn’t look at him. Just murmured, “She’s asleep now. I checked a minute ago.”

Zak nodded slowly. “She didn’t ask for me.”

“She didn’t want to be touched. Didn’t want help. Just needed space.” Tracy’s voice cracked, but she kept it steady. “She was barely holding on, Zak. I haven’t seen her like that in a long time.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse,” he said too quickly. “I just… I thought I was protecting her.”

“I know you did,” Tracy replied gently.

Zak stared at the floor. “I didn’t think it would hurt her like this. I thought—” He faltered. “I thought keeping her away from Lando would keep things simple. Keep her safe. From getting hurt. Or confused. Or from people talking. From getting her hopes up.”

“You didn’t trust her,” Tracy said. Not accusing, just honest.

Zak exhaled hard. “No. I didn’t trust him.”

Tracy finally turned to look at him. “But he’s been good to her. You’ve seen that, surely.” 

“I have,” Zak admitted, tersely. 

“But it wasn’t on your terms,” Tracy said. “So you didn’t like it.”

Zak didn’t argue.

“She’s not a problem to solve, Zak. She’s our daughter. And she’s doing something incredibly brave. She’s opening up. She’s connecting. That’s huge for her.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “God, I know. I just…” He broke off, ran a hand through his hair. “Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been someone safer?”

“Because love isn’t safe,” Tracy said. “And friendship isn’t simple. And if you’re lucky enough to find someone who makes you feel okay in your skin, even just for a little while, that’s not a risk for someone like her. That’s a lifeline.”

Zak leaned back, scrubbing a hand over his face. He looked hollowed out. “I feel like I’ve completely blown it.”

“You haven’t,” Tracy said gently. “But you will if you keep pushing like this. If you keep trying to prevent something that is starting to seem pretty much inevitable.” 

Zak was quiet.

“She loves you,” Tracy added. “But she can’t keep fighting you on this. Not when she’s also fighting herself. That kind of pressure… it’ll break her.”

That landed like a stone. He blinked against the sting in his eyes and nodded, slow and tired. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

Tracy leaned into him and kissed the rough edge of his jaw. “You’re a good father, Zak. She knows that. She’ll forgive you.”

Zak didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the dark hallway.

“She didn’t ask for me,” he said again, softer this time. Raw. Frayed.

Tracy sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know, honey.”

— 

The flat was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional thump of bass through the wall from the upstairs neighbours. Lando sat cross-legged on the sofa, eyes unfocused on the muted Rally Car stream playing on the TV. Max was in the kitchen, one sock on, microwaving some disastrous smelling leftover curry.

“You ever liked someone,” Lando said suddenly, not looking up, “so much that even the idea of them ruining your life doesn’t sound that bad?”

Max made a noise that landed somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Christ, mate. What brought that on?”

Lando shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve just been thinking.”

“About Amelia?” Max asked, already knowing. He padded over and dropped into the armchair opposite, bowl in his lap.

Lando exhaled slowly. “I really fucking like her. It doesn’t make sense. She’s, I mean— Jesus, I don’t know. Feels like I can breathe right around her, you know?”

Max didn’t answer right away. Just stirred the curry and watched the screen for a second. Then, gently: “Yeah. I get that. But... Come on, mate. You sure this isn’t a bit too much, too fast?”

Lando looked over. Frowned. “What do you mean?”

Max shifted, trying to find words. “It’s not just about liking someone. It’s about who she is. Like, she’s your boss’s daughter. That’s... not insignificant here.”

“I know that.” Lando bit back. 

“Okay. But do you really know what it means? If something goes wrong, if it ends, and ends messy, it’s not like you can just walk away. There’s no possibility of a clean break with her.” 

Lando was quiet, but his jaw tightened.

“I’m not trying to scare you off,” Max added quickly. “I just... I know how much you’ve worked for this. Since you were, what, six? Your whole life’s been about driving. Being the best. And now you’re closer than ever.”

“I’m not giving up racing,” Lando snapped, defensive before Max even finished.

“I didn’t say you were,” Max snapped right back at him. “I just don’t want you to stop being Lando Norris: F1 driver and become Lando Norris: the guy who fucked around with his boss’ daughter, you know?”

Lando stared down at his hands. He felt like a piece of shit as he said, “Zak’s basically said the same thing. So has my dad.”

Max nodded. “‘Cause we’re all thinking the same thing, mate.” 

Lando rubbed his hands over his face and pulled his hood up. “Maybe you’re right,” he mumbled. “Maybe this isn’t... good timing.”

Max didn’t say anything. He just went back to eating, quiet again.

And Lando hated that suddenly it felt like all of their reasons made sense.

— 

The air was different now. Cooler. Thinner. The sun still came through her window in the morning, but it didn’t cling to the walls the same way. The trees had started to shift, just barely, into that pre-autumn colour. And Amelia felt like she was holding her breath all the time. For something. For nothing.

She hadn’t spoken to Lando for days. Not since she'd sent him a photo of the coffee shop in town that had spelled her name wrong again, and all she got back was a laughing emoji. No reply. No question. Just that.

It felt like a door closing very slowly. 

She was sitting in the bay window of her bedroom, blanket around her shoulders, golf ball in one hand and her phone in the other. It was the fourth time she'd opened their chat and closed it again. The most recent messages sat there like ghosts. 

—

iMessage — 9:04am

Amelia Hope you’re not too tired from training. 

—

Read. Two days ago. No response.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to write that wouldn’t sound… needy. Or hurt. Or desperate. God, she hated the idea of being too much. It made her skin itch. She didn’t want to become exactly what people were always assuming that she’d be.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, her thoughts, her everything. But it hurt in a way she didn’t understand; this slow, quiet loss. It hurt in a way she didn’t have a name for. It felt a lot like emptiness.

“Don’t spiral,” she whispered to herself, rocking gently, rhythmically. “Don’t spiral. Don’t spiral.”

But it felt like she already was.

— 

Both McLaren cars DNF’d in Belgium; the first race back after the Summer break.

She’d written it down two hours before lights out — in the margin of an old notebook, under a page of technical notes she hadn’t meant to be looking at anymore. The exact reason. The probable lap. A strange little instinct that curled in her gut and told her today’s not going to go the way they want it to.

She closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer, and told herself it didn’t matter.

Nobody would ever know. Nobody would ever ask. Because she wasn’t in the garage. Wasn’t in the paddock. Wasn’t even watching from the hospitality suite like she always did, like clockwork.

She was in Woking. In her bedroom. As far from Lando’s garage, from the paddock, as she could possibly be.

And on the TV, when the Sky Sports commentator mentioned her absence like it was some small anomaly (“No sign of Amelia Brown in Norris’ McLaren garage today. Odd, considering she rarely misses a weekend”) she didn’t feel flattered or seen or missed.

She felt sick.

Like the air got thinner the second they said her name.

So she turned it off.

Just like that.

The screen went dark. The sound cut out. And for the first time in ten years, she didn’t watch the entire race.

Not because she didn’t want to. 

But because it hurt too much.

NEXT CHAPTER

[roses-and-revolutions]

Stephine is really enjoying university life.

Sure her 'night job' left her exhausted more often than not and she wished that some of her professors would just (die) get into some little accidents, leaving them unable to work for some time. But she enjoys being a university student.

And the best part of it all was her roommate, Samantha. Not because she was hot or anything! Yeah ok, it was because Samantha was hot but you couldn't blame her! She had no right being so goddamn attractive! She's smart and cool as well and... back on track!

Stephine sighed remembering the first time she ACTUALLY looked at Sam. The memory was basically etched into her mind.

They had been roomies for a few weeks but had hardly talked before that moment. Mostly because she was dealing with an extremely tricky case that time around. A case with a dead end that had left her feeling exhausted, defeated, and disgusting. And she wanted was a nice hot shower and more than a few hours of sleep. It wasn't like she had any classes the next day anyway.

But when she opened the door, she was met with Sam standing in the middle of their dorm. Gotham's sky was clear that night the power of the full moon was making itself known.

She still remembered how beautiful Sam was. Not that she wasn't always beautiful, even on her worst days she wasn't anything but ethereal. But something was different that night.

Whenever her mind wandered it always strayed to delicate pale skin, covered in strange symbols and runic tattoos she'd never seen before. Dark hair that almost blended with the night, and naked pink lips that... focus Stephanie!

Sam was tall, even without her platforms or Mary Jane's, a good 4 inches at least. And her eyes, she always thought they were black but they weren't. She still vividly remembered that deep violet glow in the near darkness that pierced through her heart straight into her soul. Stephanie knew from that moment she was smitten.

Not too long afterward she started working on getting close to the girl. Though with all the classes, cases, and general Gotham life she'd only been able to find out a few things. Sam was Goth, vegan, and from a small town that no longer exists.

Despite her constantly updating her plant blog, arguing with her parents, and doing research for her various classes (wow double major and double minor, she's ambitious), her online presence was basically zilch.

Was it a bit of a red flag? Maybe. But red was half of purple so it should be ok. She thinks. But that didn't matter now because tonight would be it. Both of them were free and currently doing 'nothing'. All she had to do was turn around and ask a question. Any question!

"Hey S-"

"Hey, Sam!"

She almost gave herself whiplash with how fast she turned her neck to face the window. Hanging halfway through it was a boy. Pale skin, dark raven hair that melded into the night and bright blue eyes that almost hurt to look at. Were they family?

"Oh, you got company! Is now a good time or..."

"Speak or leave."

She sounded mildly annoyed and God was it hot.

"Ok, if I were to, hypothetically, of course, need help hiding a-"

"Do I need to buy a shovel?"

"...Maybe."

"Let me get my purse."

As suddenly as the boy came they both left, through the same window and into the dark Gotham night. Stephanie's mind, which had short-circuited, slowly caught up with what had just happened.

She had many questions. Like how did he get up here without any equipment? It's the fourth floor! Why was Sam so calm about it? Was he just asking for help to hide a body? Why was Sam so calm about being asked to hide a body? And did she just offer to help!?

Wasn't that boy Daniel Fenton? The wanted domestic terrorist that the US Government recently asked the JL to help capture...

Red is half of purple, red is half of purple, RED IS HALF OF PURPLE!!!

[fastandcarlos]

On Cloud Nine : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: your hundreds of miles away when you get the call, desperate to be at carlos’ bedside as soon as possible

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, ybffusername and 593,606 others

ynusername: new york, new york 🗽🍏

39,403 comments

carlossainz55: I miss you so much, hurry up home! 🩷

username1: these photos look amazing, new york is definitely my dream one day

charles_leclerc: hope you’re having the best time, btw carlos is definitely lost without you

carmenmmundt: I can’t wait to hear all about this when I see you next ☺️

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ynusername: @/landonorris don’t spoil all my secrets 🤫

carlossainz55: @/ynusername it all makes sense now 😂

username3: wow new york looks insane yn 🤩

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

ynusername posted two stories

caption 1: get me home asap!!

caption 2: 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 738,504 others

ynusername: hi everyone, with carlos’ permission I wanted to share with you all that his operation this morning was successful and he’s recovering well. he also asked me to post a nice photo of him with this to remind you all just how handsome he actually he is 😂

I’m exhausted from rushing here, but just glad to be by his side as he starts the road to recovery 💞

78,503 comments

username4: sending carlos so much love - thank you for the update yn 🫶🏻

username5: poor carlos 😭😭

landonorris: tell me he still looks as handsome as ever to me!

maxverstappen1: get plenty of rest and see you back on the track carlos!

username6: only carlos would still care about his appearance despite being minutes out of surgery

username7: I’m just glad yn was there to be by his side for when he woke up 💞

username8: he’s got the best partner there to take care of him 🥰

alexandrasaintmleux: you guys know where I am if you need anything ❤️❤️

pierregasly: imo he’s never looked better 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, ynusername and 2,492,505 others

carlossainz55: thanks for all the support guys, pleased to say all is good and I’m recovering well so far. gutted to miss the race but I’ll be back on the track soon! biggest thanks goes to yn for dropping everything and travelling halfway around the world to be here with me - she makes a brilliant nurse 💕😂

103,592 comments

username9: how do you manage to look so good even whilst in hospital??

username10: we’re so pleased to see you’re on the mend carlos, take all the time you need 🥰

landonorris: stop flashing your stomach for sympathy 😂😂

username11: that looks so painful, hope you’re okay carlos!!

danielricciardo: made of tough stuff bro, see you real soon!

charles_leclerc: it’s not the same without you here 😭😭

carlossainz55: @/charles_leclerc do me proud my friend ❤️

username12: it breaks my heart seeing these photos

ynusername: couldn’t have timed this better, could you? 😂 just glad that you’re on the mend, ily 💞

carlossainz55: @/ynusername only thanks to you and the care that you give me 🩷

username13: don’t rush, take your time, your fans will wait for you!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt and 893,201 others

ynusername: carlos being at home resting has its perks 🥞🤩

39,124 comments

username14: stfu I’m so jealous

carlossainz55: you’re lucky I’ve got all this free time on my hands ❤️

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 turns out there are some perks to having your appendix taking out 😂

charles_leclerc: I’m already omw save some for me!!!

username15: welcome back boyfriend carlos aesthetic 🫶🏻

username16: all I want is to taste just one of carlos’ pancakes one day

alex_albon: next time we double date these have to me on the menu

ynusername: @/alex_albon there won’t be any complaints from me

username17: I’m happy to third wheel this date night btw

username18: THEYRE JUST SO FLUFFY

username19: @/username18 the pancakes or the hair???

username18: @/username19 EVERYTHING 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,859,120 others

carlossainz55: back on the course doing what I love, an easy eighteen holes 🏌🏻⛳️

49,604 comments

ynusername: um I don’t think this is quite what the consultant meant when he said easy exercise 🤔

carlossainz55: @/ynusername what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him!!

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 can’t wait to throw you under the bus at your next appointment 😂

username20: we always knew it wouldn’t be long before carlos was back playing golf

landonorris: if yn is that worried about you, I guess next time I’ll just have to come with you…to look after you ofc

carlossainz55: @/landonorris I’m supposed to be taking it easy, you stress me out 😂

username21: poor yn must be so stressed looking after carlos

charles_leclerc: of all the sports you choose to go and play golf 🙂‍↔️

username22: imagine telling one of the most active people in the world that they have to rest

username23: counting down the days until he’s back out on his bike 😬

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, ynusername and 1,695,207 others

carlossainz55: back to full power soon, stepping up the recovery and fully focused on being back in the car soon 💪🏻

50,402 comments

username24: gym photos of carlos never get old

username25: and there he is back on the bike again 😂

ynusername: hmmm this looks more like the exercise you’re supposed to be doing 🙄

carlossainz55: @/ynusername 😂💞🤫

username26: if you need something to lift I’m happy to offer my services

landonorris: damn you’re putting me to shame sharing these carlos 😂

username27: I actually just squealed in excitement seeing these, now everyone’s staring at me

username28: yn is one lucky lucky girl wtf

alex_albon: ffs stop showing off how ripped you are

georgerussell63: at least go all the way and take the shirt off jeez

carlossainz55: @/georgerussell63 not all of us are as vain as you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 2,403,705 others

carlossainz55: I should have more operations if this is what happens 😂 so proud to be p1 in aus, thank you for all the support ❤️🏎️

103,392 comments

username29: you’re a machine, we’re so proud of you!!

landonorris: booking an appointment to get my appendix taken out as we speak 🫡

username30: how do you do it??

ynusername: words fail me…you’re just the best 🫶🏻💞

username31: proud is an understatement to describe how I feel about this

danielricciardo: hats off to you sir that was one hell of a drive

charles_leclerc: I never realised I actually had a superhero for a teammate 😂

username32: this is the least you deserve after what you’ve been through

username33: to race like that whilst still in pain just blows my mind

maxverstappen1: huge congrats carlos, one hell of a race 💪🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 792,032 others

ynusername: on cloud nine ☁️ after the trickiest couple of weeks you come back and pull this outta the bag - I’m so proud of you my love! 🩷

27,493 comments

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi, could I get a swiss roll with a figgy duff and a side of champagne served by Max Verstappen?

Thank you in advance 🫶

bakery menu!!

want to submit an order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you and everything you wish to suggest! requests are still open, but updates won't be posted from sept 23rd-29th 2024 due to a vacation! but feel free to submit orders for when i return! for this lovely anon i hope you love this fic, i am very proud of how everything turned out! thank you again for ordering and have a great day! <3

swiss roll ("everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you.") + figgy duff ("if i buy it, will you stop pouting?") + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, stuffed animal abuse, couch sex, jealousy, doggy style, daddy kink

max knew that he could have next to anything he wanted. his entire world was his oyster before thirty. his salary would make some gasp, but it simply made him grin. he pushed himself to his limits to get on top, and he wasn't stopping now.

but even the greats had their weaknesses. and for max that came in the form of soft eyes and softer lips with a deep likeness for hello kitty.

"is this one hello kitty? it looks like a rabbit?" max asked as he looked over at your phone screen to see what you were looking at. or rather in what ways were you going to use and abuse his credit card for the week.

in all fairness you could've abused his finances a lot harder and max would've been fine with it. he could retire from racing tomorrow and still spoil you till the sun burnt out. you still tried to find deals and coupons on things you wanted him to buy you. sometimes you still got hot in the face when you saw the total of a shopping cart.

you were raised in such a different world than him and max liked that. but, while he had a weak spot for your softness. you had a weak spot for stuffed animals. especially sanrio.

"no, no. they're not all hello kitty. this one is cinnamoroll, and he's a dog."

max looked at the screen a little closer, "looks like a rabbit to me."

you pointed at the screen, "no, no. look at his ears, those are dog ears." max nodded, still not totally convinced. who would draw a dog like that. but when you saw the price of the large stuffed animal, you pouted. and max noticed you were pouting.

he took the phone from you and when you tried to get your phone back. he placed his free hand on your forehead. he said, "if i buy it, will you stop pouting? i can afford it, treasure."

"but the import fees."

"they'll be paid." he added the stuffed animal to the cart. he didn't even look at the price in all fairness before he handed the phone back to you. you pouted further and max leaned in to kiss you on the lips, "enough of that. what else do you want?" then rubbed the top of your head with his large hand.

honestly, he knew very little about sanrio or hello kitty. he knew one time he kicked one of them off the bed in an attempt to get comfy after a long double header and you whined until he picked it up off the floor and apologized to the stuffed toy. but, anything for you, he supposed.

the plush toy along with some others arrived within a few weeks. max didn't really notice much of it until he caught you on the couch earlier that day with your arms wrapped around the stuffed toy. he hadn't realized how big it was, a little over a meter in size. it was soft with those long rabbit ears. but you were snuggled up with it watching television. you looked cute even with the t-shirt you wore slowly riding up over your stomach.

it made max stop in his tracked and divert from his path to the kitchen. you looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back. he said to you, "everything you hoped for?"

you nodded, "yeah, now i have something to cuddle when you're gone." your comment was innocent, but it stirred something in max. he got closer and you kept your gaze on him. you smiled a little bit when he leaned down to kiss you on the lips.

"oh? replacing me so soon?" he asked as he reached towards you and pushed your t-shirt a little higher. you hid your face a little further into the stuffed animals, "oh no, no, my love. don't hide from me." it was easy to get your shirt off of you.

he licked his lips while your breasts pressed against the stuffed animal. he knew he'd have you whining soon enough and it curled something in his gut at the sight of you. you were amazing. the perfect baby girl that max could ever have. while he was fine with you buying what you desired, he didn't want to be replaced with a stuffed toy.

because no stuffed toy could compare to your daddy.

"you better not replace me, my love. everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you. so there is no replacing me. i paid for these." he said as he pushed down your shorts and exposed the pretty panties underneath, "and i paid for your little friend." maybe max was a fool for being jealous over a stuffed animal, but your sudden attached to it made something curl in his brain.

you were soon naked and pressed against the stuffed animal. you looked over your shoulder at him and he pressed your face into the cinnamoroll plush, or whatever its name was. you whined, "daddy!"

"shh, shh. i need to make sure this rabbit knows who you belong to. or he's being sent back to wherever he came from."

you arched your back to pretty for him as you tried to argue, "it's a dog!"

he smacked your ass before he pulled away to get his t-shirt off. you behaved and kept your face pressed against the stuffed animal. he got out of his pants and underwear before he pressed his cock up against your ass. he said, "it could be a turtle for all i can. but, i need to make sure that you don't go running off with a stuffed toy while i'm away." he kissed the back of your neck as he rubbed himself up against you.

you whimpered and held onto the toy tighter, "daddy, please." then moaned when he sank his cock into you. it was true, he did pay for everything. you were there to look pretty and be the perfect girl for him.

"so pretty." he said, "i worry about you when i leave, you're so soft and could get into a lot of trouble." he groaned a little bit as he started to find his pace as he fucked you on the couch.

"i can be a good girl." you replied, you held onto the stuffed toy and drooled a little bit against it as max's cock hit up against some of your sweetest spots. your toes curled in your socks as he found his rhythm.

"i know. i know." he said, "but you should be cuddling me. not this toy. so i have to show it who's in charge." you couldn't help but giggle, but they were soon silenced when he pressed himself further against you and took you by the face and kissed you deeply on the lips.

his thrusts were fast, and it forced you further up against the couch. the kisses were hot and made you feel warm all over. your sweet noises even while you kissed made max run hot. he knew that only he could make you feel this good. he knew that he ruined you, and that you'd always yearn for his cock.

you drooled a little more when the kiss broke and your face found comfortable against the fur of the toy. you clung to it tightly for some kind of support but max had full control of the pace. you felt a little hazy in the brain as he continued to fuck you.

"i love you." you said softly.

"and i love you." he replied, "can't help but be a little jealous sometimes. anyone would be lucky to have you, but i have you all to myself. everything you own belongs to me, paid with my credit card. maybe i should make you wear my name at all times so nobody gets the wrong idea." his words were hot and flooded with brain with a heightened pleasure.

max continued to thrust against you. soon his pace became quicker and rougher. he pressed you further against the couch and the toy. he kissed you once more, it was rough against your lips as you came around his cock.

you clung to the stuffed animal as you tensed up. you panted through the kiss as you nails dug into the plush toy, only loosening your grip when you came down from your climax.

face pressed once more into the soft fur as max rocked himself against you, almost bouncing you on his cock. he pressed into you further before he finished inside of you. he shuddered as he finished. eventually he slowed down until a stop then pulled out. he panted heavily and used his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

he admired your backside before he put you onto your back. he looked at the stuffed animal, the embroidered eyes looked at him and he smiled. he said to the toy, "she's mine."

you placed your hands on his face and said, "c'mon, max! he isn't going to replace you!"

"he won't when i'm finished with you." <3

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut, the final day!! Eyyyyy, gang, we did it! Full month of daily updates for this one, haha. Ended up writing about 24k, give or take a few hundred words. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

The alert on his communicator goes off again, and then again a few seconds later. Tim represses another frown. Nobody double-texts him on Tim Drake’s phone. The only people who ever would are Dick and Steph, and Dick never texts Tim Drake’s phone outside of emergency situations where Tim’s not suited-up and Steph doesn’t have Tim Drake’s number at all; they just use burners and the occassional dead drop. So who . . . ? 

The alert goes off a fourth time. Tim definitely doesn’t panic, but also definitely turns his wrist in his lap underneath the fall of his cape and taps the little armored pocket where he hides one of his micro-receivers for situations where he can’t pull the full-sized one out of his utility belt without being obvious about it. Cissie’s distracted with whatever’s distracting Cassie and neither of them can see his eyes behind the lenses of his mask, so it’s not difficult to slip it into his palm and out from under his cape to glance down at as he thumbs it open to wake up the tiny little screen. Four text alerts, and the caller ID is scrolling “UNKNOWN NUMBER” across the screen. 

Okay, so his civilian number is getting spam texts now. Jesus, he was worried, that’s so–

The actual number of the unknown number scrolls across the screen after the text. Tim . . . blinks. 

. . . that’s Kon’s number. Specifically, the number of the phone he bought Kon. Who is literally right outside, according to Cassie, and . . . texting somebody. While he’s out there. While he’s out there, and Tim is in here, and is being Robin. 

Tim has literally no idea how he feels about this situation, and honestly neither does Robin.

He opens the text log, and there are, in fact, four texts from Kon in it. 

so like 

superweird questin 

liek uh rly superweird tbh but uh 

cn u wish me luck babe??

Tim stares blankly at the messages. “Wish me luck”? That’s–what? 

Good luck, Kon, he texts back after a moment, figuring it’s the logical response anyway and assuming that using the other’s real name will help him feel better about whatever he wants the aforementioned “good luck” for. He’s going to have to try and get a read on him when he comes in, see if he can’t work that out. If it’s something to be concerned about . . . 

thx, Kon sends back with a blue heart emoji and literally nothing else. 

Blue, Tim thinks, yet again having to repress a frown. What the hell does a blue heart mean? Does that mean anything? 

He barely bites back the question, because it’s way too risky to ask even if if anyone knows what different-colored heart emojis mean it is definitely a teenage girl and if he texts Steph with a random question with no context attached and then doesn’t stick around to talk she’ll get annoyed and might leave another glitter bomb in their next dead drop. 

He really doesn’t wanna have to explain glitter in his cape to Bruce again. Or worse, explain glitter in his cape to Alfred. Alfred did not appreciate the glitter tracked all over the cave last time. Very, very much did he not appreciate it. 

Maybe Kon just picked it because he likes blue. Or maybe red seemed like too much to him? Or maybe– 

“I’m back!” Suzie announces excitedly as she spills into the room, and Bart bolts through her smoke trail a moment later and stops on a dime right next to the kitchen table. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, wrinkling his nose down at Cissie and Cassie. “Are you crying? Is it because your wig looks weird? It’s not that weird. I mean, kinda.” 

“That HeroWatch magazine thinks it’s your real hair!” Suzie offers brightly. “So it can’t be that weird.” 

“I am not crying and HeroWatch thinks what?!” Cassie demands, whipping her head up to stare at them both with a horrified expression. “It’s not even real hair! It’s like, synthetic! I buy the stupid things off Amazon!” 

“You should stop doing that,” Tim advises reflexively. There are so many ways for that to end badly for her secret identity. Genuinely so many that he doesn’t even know where to start, in fact. 

“And do what instead, exactly?” Cassie asks with a sullen scowl, leaning back just enough to fold her arms. “I can’t just clear out Spirit Halloween every–” 

She cuts herself off and stiffens, then jerks to her feet very quickly and straightens her wig and jacket even quicker. Tim has half a second to remember that while Cassie’s hearing isn’t super, it’s definitely enhanced, and then Kon walks into the room. 

“Yo,” he says, half-waving a hand at the table and then making a face. “Shit, I’m the last one here? Figures.” 

Tim . . . blinks. Blinks again. Cassie looks downright agonized, and Suzie and Bart both tilt their heads in opposite directions. Cissie raises both eyebrows and looks him up and down. 

“Jesus Christ, Kon, that is borderline indecent expo–” she starts incredulously, and Cassie immediately claps a hand over her mouth and leans down to hiss into her ear: “Cissie, you are my best friend and I love you and shut the hell up right the hell NOW.” 

Tim attempts to make his brain work. It needs to, like–do things. Be usable. Functional. Brain . . . able. 

The problem with that is the fact that Kon is currently wearing the tiny little jean shorts that first made Tim aware of the existence of the other’s thighs and the S-shield crop top that people really should have more respect for Superman than to have made and sold commercially with his usual leather jacket and sunglasses and a pair of heavy black boots that Tim also bought him, plus the sapphire stud earring from their last date with a little bit of eyeliner and chipped black nail polish and . . . thighs. Just–thighs. Kon is very, very much wearing thighs right now. 

. . . thighs.

Tim suddenly understands literally everything about the way Cassie came in acting and literally everything she’d said on top of that. Also, he isn’t sure, but he thinks maybe this is worse than the changing room was? Like, this might be worse than the changing room was. Because Kon’s not posing to show himself off like he was there, and “Tim Drake” isn’t here for him to be showing off for. So Kon is, presumably, wearing this outfit just because he wants to be wearing it. 

Tim needs a minute. Or a year. Or maybe a hard reboot and a new identity and a new reality to move to. Not permanently or anything, just until he can remember how to function like a reasonably-normal person again or he needs to send Kon his allowance, whichever comes first. 

It’s going to be the allowance, he already knows. It’s definitely, definitely going to be the allowance. 

“Huh,” Suzie says, looking a little perplexed. 

“Oh, is that what hormones are?” Bart says, looking surprised. “Weird.”

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

a.n — double update cause it's a short one + apology for the contents of this chapter word count — 1.4 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

seven

wednesday, january 29th

"no, i'm telling you, it's real! i read about it." devon pulls on hazel's arms as the four of you walk toward your school building. "someone talking about it in a tiktok video is not reading about it, devon." ivy laughs and devon shoves her to the side. "you believe me, right, y/n?" she turns to you and you're in this weird inbetween place where you can hear them, sort of but your mind is also in a million other places so you don't immediately answer.

"hey?" hazel rests an arm on your shoulder which halts you, "hm?" you ask and look at your three very concerned best friends. "you know we don't have to go, right? we can just..go to my house, get all the strawberry ice cream from the freezer and have a long discussion about ..cryptozoology. devon can tell us about that time she saw the loch ness monster again." she says and you smile when devon mutters something about her experience being 100% real.

"you have a perfect attendance, hazel. we are not going to tarnish that for..a boy. i'm okay." you try to sound convincing, try to convince yourself even because really, it shouldn't suck as much as it does. you knew that rafe somehow reciprocating your crush was wishful thinking. it was stupid to ever even entertain or let the idea play in your mind.

you'd had crushes before, even kissed two guys. once when you were fourteen and once when you were fifteen but looking at them never felt the same way as looking at rafe and you had never even come close to kissing him.

"but—"

"no. let's go." you force the three girls forward. you were first in your class, first in your entire grade, you singlehandedly organise almost every major and minor event at this school, you process all the complaints and changes students want almost weekly, you help your parents at home, you work at a bakery on saturdays, you volunteer on sundays. you are resilient and capable and rafe cameron is not going to bat his eyelashes and break you in one month of knowing him. it just wasn't going to happen. it couldn't.

you could avoid him, you think as you walk into the school building. right? this school was fairly big and truth be told, before you started tutoring, rafe didn't really stand out to you. things could go back to that time. they had too.

the first four hours went perfectly. you passed by the office and helped sandy with some paperwork until class started, then you went to class and were able to avoid him during the break as well.

you got nervous when lunchtime came around. you and your friends usually stayed in school during lunch which meant rafe could just walk up to you in the cafeteria but there were other places you could go. you could go to the green spaces or the common area. maybe even the bleachers in the basketball court though you never really liked the smell in there.

you eventually chose the green space. it was quiet and calm, just what you needed. you and your friends sat down and when you open your bag you realise you left your lunch in your locker. "i left my lunch in my locker, i'll be right back." you tell them and fish your key out of your bag before making your way out of the green space and down the stairs.

when you made it to the second floor, you walked to your locker, keys jiggling in your hands. "y/n?" your heart stopped at the sound of his voice, and the natural course of action when someone called your name was to stop or at least turn but you just kept walking. "uh huh?" you answered.

"hey, hold on!" he called and you heard him start to jog. you start to walk faster. "i..uhh am kinda in a hurry!"

"just wait." he grabs your wrist and whips you around. he looks unjustifiable good again. you force yourself to not make eye contact. "yes, rafe?" you find yourself saying in the most passive tone and his gaze lingers, filled with worry. "what happened yesterday? i texted you like ten times." he's visibly upset—crease between his brows, soft searching eyes boring it yours and it makes you upset and now you want to pinch yourself for being upset because you've created some kind of fucked up parasocial relationship with a guy who has no real interest in you.

"i..just wanted to go home. so, i went home." is the only thing you can come up with. it's technically the truth too. you pull your wrist away from his hand and he watches the action with a pained expression. "did something happen while i was gone? why didn't you come to me? i was going to take you home."

you shake your head nonchalantly dismissing him, "it's fine. i like walking, i barely exercise so i need it. it's absolutely fine." you're already turning around to find your locker but he's grabbing your wrist again, "why are you acting like this?" he's frustrated with you. you understand. you're acting different but you're frustrated with him too. even if you don't necessarily have the right to be. "you know i'm not that smart so stop playing fucking mind games with me."

you frown at his tone but also his choice of words. "you are smart, rafe. you're very smart." you correct, not liking it when he belittled himself. him not believing he was capable or smart was the whole reason he needed tutoring in the first place.

"yet i can't piece together why you're mad at me." he says, his tone displeased and you shake your head, finding his eyes. you find yourself wanting to appease him, wanting to make him feel better. you hate that he's upset, it coils something deep inside of you. "i am not mad. i'm not upset, i just..i didn't want to—" it was baffling how much you struggled to come up with a lie. you weren't a liar, okay? "i-i saw you, i saw..that you were, you were.. and i j-just—" you stammered and threw your head back in frustration.

he stared at you, eyes wide and expecting. "you just..what? how am i meant to fix it if you won't tell me what's wrong?"

"you haven't done anything wrong; if anything it's me. i—"

"you what? you didn't have fun? did someone hurt you?"

"no one did anything." you murmur and it seems to be what pushes him over the edge, "then what's wrong?" he snaps, his apparent annoyance bursting at the seams.

"nothing is wrong. there is nothing to fix, i just wanted to go home so i went home!" you yelled suddenly and rafe along with the couple of people still in the hallway stared at you in what could only be describe as utter surprise. "sorry..i'm sorry." you tried to collect whatever pride you still had and turned on your heel abandoning your food completely.

it started slowly. just slow breaths as you walked up the stairs, then that pit in your throat when you were on the third floor, followed by tears in your eyes that you were frantically trying to blink away on the fourth floor, and when you finally made it to green space, the tears were streaming down your cheeks and hazel was already standing up before you'd even made it to the table. "oh, no, sweetheart," she's pulling you in your arms and the dam just breaks and you're letting out everything you'd been holding in since that stupid bonfire. "it's okay, i'm so sorry, you're okay." her comforting whispers and gentle kisses are muffled and overshadowed by the way you're crying in her arms.

you feel ivy and devon's hands on your back, rubbing slow circles, "we got you," you feel a warm hug from behind and one on the side. you're completely cooped up, unable to even see anymore light, just little cracks. either way your vision is blurry with tears. "i w-wanna go h-home.." you hiccup in hazel's neck and you can feel her nodding. "we'll go home. we're going home."

hazel's parents are surprised to see the four of you home but when they see which state you're in, they barely question it. her mom orders take out, the junkiest junk food they can find, she calls your mom to tell her where you are, you pile onto the couch and they don't mention rafe once. you have a six-hour-long discussion about cryptozoology and the science behind mythical creatures.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.  taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[maddiesentmehere118]

Champagne Kisses

Eddie Diaz x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: hurt and comfort, smut

Author's Notes: First Eddie fic, is a test run!

Prequel to Champagne Kisses | E. Diaz Taglist | Masterlist

You giggle as you’re shoved up against the front door. Large hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head. You moan at the sensual action, throwing your head back. The man that brought you home from the New Year’s party buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

***

You had been invited to Maddie’s younger brother, Buck’s, party to ring in the New Year. It wasn’t unusual for you to tag along with Maddie and Chim to events. 

You’d become Maddie’s best friend when she was working in Boston. She had taken you under her wing when you entered your first year of nursing at the hospital. You had become each other’s rock quickly. 

It also meant that you had gotten close enough to start recognizing the signs of abuse. Isolation from friends and family. Towards the end of their relationship, she started wearing long sleeves under her scrubs— even in 90 degree weather. She’d give life updates on her brother, a smile on her face but pain in her eyes. And after particularly bad nights, she’d show up with dark circles under her eyes. 

You took it upon yourself to help her get out. It took some convincing, careful planning, and then one day, she disappeared. Took a rental car, in your name, with cash, and left. Slipped the worker some money to not officially document where the car was going, explaining she was escaping from her abusive husband. It worked.

Shortly after she left Boston, Doug cornered you. He expected you to cower, telling him whatever you knew about her disappearance. But you stood straight, even if you felt every cell in your body shaking. Keeping your voice confident and neutral, you told him that you did not know where she went. She wasn’t answering your calls and texts. She had a new phone, but he didn’t need to know that. When you showed him the phone log and texts, confirming she hadn’t answered you, he left you alone. 

After three months, you followed Maddie to LA. To make it seem realistic, you had your charge nurse draft fake documentation, showing you had transferred to a hospital in Michigan. You had to wrap up any loose ends. You’d rather him try to track you down in Michigan than get anywhere near Maddie. 

You transitioned into trauma medicine when you moved to LA. Maddie now works as a 911 operator, and who could blame her for the career change when her past life was associated with domestic violence.

When Maddie had filed for divorce, you were already expecting fallout. The worst case scenario, you thought, would have been stalking or light threats. You were on hour 15 when you received the news that Maddie had been kidnapped. You doubled over in agonizing pain. She had tried to get away from him, under his control by filing for a divorce, and he took her. 

For a few weeks, you blamed yourself. You should have been at the apartment that night, but you picked up an extra 12 for a coworker. Maddie was supposed to go out on a date, and you thought it would be nice to have the apartment to herself. If you would have come home after your first shift, maybe you could have prevented him from taking her to a second location. 

With therapy, both of you slowly started to heal. Your sense of safety was taken away from you. He was dead, yet he found a way to loom over your lives. Eventually, with increased security, an updated self defense class, and lessons on how to use a firearm, you both were able to sleep at night again.

Now, nine months later, Maddie is in a happy and healthy relationship with Buck’s coworker, Chim. And you? Still as lonely and dry in the dating department. 

Your days are filled with work, picking up extra shifts when you could. Some weeks, you  pushed the limit, working the 72 hours California law allowed. 

While the money was wonderful and you were steadily building your savings account, you were wearing yourself thin. 

You desperately needed to find a life outside of work.

However, you never thought that kissing Eddie Diaz was going to be a part of the equation. 

***

Warm, wet kisses are pressed against your skin. Both of you smell of alcohol, champagne dancing on your tongues. Sliding a hand down, you grab onto the back of Eddie’s head. His kisses are harder, more deliberate now. The pressure on your neck feels great, the pain aching in the best way possible. Your favorite pair of underwear, soaked. 

“Been wanting to kiss you for months now. Every time I see you in those burgundy scrubs, with that Mickey Mouse badge reel to make kids less scared, I feel myself fall even harder.” His fingers slip under your blouse, the tips of his fingers grazing your stomach as they move up. “But that bun of yours. Every time— I, uh fuuck I just want to undo it. Kiss you. Take you from behind.’

Your free hand cups him.

“Do it.” 

“Mierda.” He groans in your ear, pulling back to tug your shirt off. Once bare, he trails kisses down to your shoulder. His teeth dig in, earning a firm roll of your palm against his length. Your head tilts onto his, keeping him there.

“Couch?” You offer breathlessly, not wanting to push any boundaries. 

His lips press against your shoulder again, slower this time. 

“Fuck no,” he says against your skin. “You deserve a bed.” 

When you make eye contact, you see the lust burning in his eyes. You don’t have time to react before your lips are captured by his. He grabs onto your curves, giving a firm squeeze on your hips before sliding them down your backside, landing on your lower thighs. 

“Jump.”

“What? No! Eddie, I’m too big.” You protest as he starts to lift you up. ”You’ll hurt yourself!”

“Cariño, jump up. You’re not going to break me.”

As soon as he looks up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes, you’re done for. 

You want to argue. But more than anything, you want this. 

You jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your lips crash together, in a messy, hungry sync. He carries you with ease, pushing his bedroom door open. 

He turns around, his legs hitting the back of the bed. You topple on top of him, and he uses his strength to slide higher up the bed, tugging you along with him. 

You both move desperately, like you’re the breath that each other needs. His fingers are gripping your love handles with a bruising strength, firmly guiding you back and forth as you grind. Fingers digging into his shoulders, you throw your head back.

 The seam in your jeans rubs against your clit just right, a sheen layer of sweat covering your chest and forehead. He tears your bra off, tossing it aside without a second thought. His mouth immediately captures a painfully hard nipple, soothingly swirling his tongue around. 

“God Eddie, feels soooo good.” 

You should be embarrassed by how close you are, just from grinding against Eddie. But it’s been months since you’ve had any contact outside of your vibrator. Pressure builds, your walls closing in like a firm hug. 

A hand slides up your lower back, then his fingers dip into the seam of your jeans. He tugs on your thong, applying more pressure on your clit. You cry out his name, telling him not to stop. Eddie pushes you closer to the edge of bliss, starting to grind up against you.

God, when was the last time someone left you this satisfied? Have you ever felt as wanted as you do now? You can’t recall ever cumming from grinding against someone.

Eddie groans, and you feel his thighs shaking. You push back against him, pressing your chest against his. His hips jerk against yours, knees bending to push up, chasing his own high. It isn’t long before you join him, thighs squeezing around him as you gush. 

He cups your jaw, fingers tangling into your hair. The kiss is gentle, slow. A stark comparison to your previous urgency.

“Haven’t cum in my pants since high school.” Eddie murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. You place a humored kiss against his lips. “Eres preciosa.”

It’s silent. Comfortably silent. You’ve sobered up a bit, or you think you have. You lay your cheek on his chest. His heartbeat erratic in your ear. He gently rubs your back.

Then your insecurities hit like a ton of bricks. 

There’s no way that you just dry humped Eddie Diaz. Most guys that take you home have one goal in mind: to cum and go. This wasn’t going any further than one night. 

You swallow hard, painting a fake smile onto your face. Your mind starts to swing at your heart, slowly shattering it into pieces. 

Hookups weren’t your forte. You always wanted more than what they wanted to offer.

Eddie looked like that, and you looked like this. 

You become self conscious, your bare stomach making you feel exposed. You want to wrap your arms around your middle section, to cover yourself.

Then you mentally curse. Your shirt isn’t within reach. It was taken off by the front door.

But this was different, right? He was different, not like them. Right? 

So why does your chest ache like you’ve just been used and discarded?

You shift, trying to roll off of him, but his arms tighten around your lower back. 

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up. I’ll get an Uber.”

“What?” His inquiry is sharp, panicked. Your eyes water, fingers tracing up and down his jaw. You can’t look at him. A single tear falls slowly. His thumb wipes it away.

“No estoy hecho para aventuras de una noche, Eddie.”

He sits up slowly, tilting your chin up to look at him. 

“¿Hablas español?”

“Lo estudié en la universidad. Buena para enfermería.”

“No quiero solo una noche.”

“I can’t—” You laugh, voice shaking. Tears sting your eyes. “No, no friends with benefits, either.”

It’s so hard to look away from him. His gaze pierces through you, making you feel seen. The crack in your heart splinters even more.

“I should have asked you out weeks ago. Didn’t you notice me coming into the ER more? Even when I wasn’t needed?”

“I figured you were seeing someone else. Like Macie.”

He chortles, letting go of your head. The breath is knocked out of you as he rolls you both over, hovering over you. You lift your head, hair splaying out. The musk of Eddie’s cologne invades your senses. 

You’re trapped, in the best way possible. 

“She’s been trying to set me up with you.” His lips hover against yours, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You whimper as he teases you, leaving hot kisses up your jaw. His teeth graze your earlobe, hot air being blown into your ear. “She’s definitely not into me— she’s dating a woman from another station. Lena.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles his stubble covered cheek on your jaw.  “Now that’s taken care of, join me for a shower?”

“You don’t want to—”

“No. Call me old fashioned, but I’d like to take you out before— if that’s okay with you?”                                                                                                             

You give a dramatic pause dramatically, biting your lip out of fake contemplation.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

With a smile and a shake of the head, he leans down for another kiss before pushing himself up, tugging his shirt off and discarding it by your head. 

“But if you’re okay with it, I’d like to makeout just a little bit longer.”

You wrap your legs around him, pulling his groin down to yours. You lightly trace your fingers up his side, watching a chill roll down his spine. You grin to yourself, voice hushed as you tease him.

“Only if you keep talking about my burgundy scrubs and my bun.” 

He lowers himself, whispering against your lips. 

“Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

[loricciardo]

CHAPTER FOUR | THE RED INTIMIDATOR

tags. original female character, mild misogyny, public scrutiny, references to michael schumacher’s accident and condition, performance anxiety.

a/n. double update!!! this will be the last double update for awhile i fear. i just wanted to get the intro chapters over so next week we can start natalie and max’s beef.

taglist. want to join or be removed from my taglist? send me an ask or comment below!

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“Up, Schumi!” George Russell’s voice rumbled down the hallway, far too cheerful for six in the morning. And before Natalie could even groan in response, her door creaked open and something cotton but heavy smacked her in right the face.

“Rise and shine rookie,” George cooed sweetly from the doorway. “Suit up.”

Natalie yanked the crumpled Red Bull polo off her head with a scowl, squinting at him through one eye. “Are you serious?”

George shrugged, already backing out of the room with a his toothbrush hanging from his mouth. “Fifteen minutes, lady. Albon’s making breakie. If you’re not downstairs by then, I’m eating yours.”

“I’ll suffocate you with this shirt.”

“Ahh… cheerful. See you soon, Nat.” George winked and disappeared down the hall.

Natalie flopped back into the pillows with a groan, the shirt bunched in her fist, already regretting not staying at Mick’s. But Mick didn’t come with George’s British charm or Alex’s dramatics.. And unfortunately, she kind of needed both on her first day.

On second thought..? The door burst open again.

Alex stood in the doorway, shirtless, black tendrils a mess, and holding a saucepan in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other like it was some kind of ceremonial drum and drumstick. He leaned against the doorframe, already grinning, tapping the spoon against the pan rhythmically.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” Alex announced, “The sun hath risen, and thou hast precisely ten seconds to get vertical before I drag thee from thine bed burrito style in yon duvet!”

Natalie groaned, grabbed the nearest pillow that lay beside her waist, and hurled it toward Alex’s face. He ducked, barely missing the cushion.

“The fair maiden has denied my decree. I am forced to take drastic measures,” Alex eventually got out, albeit with his giggles tainting his Shakespearean.

“Try it and I’ll shove that saucepan somewhere very creative Albon.”

Alex gave a dramatic bow. “She’s up! I hath fulfilled my noble duties,” he then dashed out the room, taking the saucepan and spoon with him.

“Mick never treats me this way,” she yelled, dragging the covers off and squinting at the ceiling.

“Well Mick goes to bed at nine like my nanna,” Alex yelled down the hallway. “You’d have died of boredom!”

Fifteen minutes later, she eventually emerged freshly showered, blonde hair still damp, dressed in the fresh navy blue of her Red Bull polo. George handed her a foil wrapped egg sandwich and a bottle of water wordlessly.

“Ah, Thank you,” Natalie acknowledged through a yawn, collapsing onto the couch.

“Y’know, I’ve kept mine warm by sitting on it,” Alex announced proudly, holding up his sandwich.

“You’re disgusting,” Natalie muttered.

“I prefer creative, actually.”

“I don’t care.”

The car ride to the track was familiar in the way that old routines became comforting. Sort of like when you’re streets away from home after being on the road for a very long time. The quiet roads hummed beneath the tires, sunlight crept through tinted windows, and the occasional stretch of silence that didn’t feel awkward. She had always ridden with Mick whenever Formula 2’s schedule allowed her.

Surprisingly, the car was quiet. Well, except for George’s phone, which was not. A TikTok looped at full volume in the backseat, some girl ranting about red flags in dating while autotuned music played over her voice.

“George William Russell,” Natalie hissed, “I swear to God—”

“What?! I’m learning!” he defended. “This is research, Natalie.”

“Research for what? Figuring out how Carmen hasn’t dumped you yet?” Alex deadpanned from the driver’s seat, flicking the turn signal on.

They pulled into the lot and sat there for a moment, the three of them exchanging glances. The place was already a fucking zoo. Flashes popping, cameras swinging toward every new face, reporters shouting questions over the hum of the crowd. Phones were raised like a sea of glowing rectangles.

George glanced sideways at Natalie, a half smile tugging at his lips. “So… You want to lead the charge, or should I send Alex out first to take the heat?”

Alex didn’t miss a beat. “I volunteer as tribute,” he chimed with a smirk, swinging his door open before anyone could answer.

They climbed out of the car together. Natalie found herself wedged between George and Alex, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she adjusted the sunglasses resting on her nose. The moment their feet hit the pavement, the press descended like a pack. Questions flew from all directions, flashes erupted, and microphones thrust forward as if drawn by some invisible magnet.

Natalie steeled herself, already bracing for the onslaught.

“Natalie! How does it feel stepping into Checo’s seat?”

“George, any thoughts on the new car?”

“Alex! Predictions for Williams this year?”

“Natalie, what do you make of Max skipping media day?”

Natalie’s mouth parted, ready to answer the flood of questions, but before a single word left her, the atmosphere shifted. A low murmur rippled through the crowd, spreading like wildfire as cameras and microphones suddenly pivoted. Reporters craned their necks, and the flashbulbs multiplied, all turning toward the source of the disturbance behind them.

She didn’t need to glance back to know who it was.

There Verstappen was, walking past the trio with that nonchalant, effortless stride. His shoulders hung loose, carrying the calm confidence of someone that owned the room, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he was privately amused by the chaos his presence ignited. The dark lenses of his sunglasses masked his eyes, but his.. cocky aura was unmistakable, commanding every camera and microphone to follow him instead.

Not a single reporter dared speak to Natalie anymore and she was suddenly invisible in the wake of his arrival.

Natalie swallowed hard, her breath catching for a moment before she forced herself forward. The press had moved on, but the weight of being overlooked settled heavily on her chest as she kept walking.

“Who are we stuck with for the press conference again?” Natalie cleared her throat.

George made a face. “Alonso and Hülk.”

“Oh, yippee,” she muttered. “Didn’t know it was senior citizen day.”

“We should place bets on how long it takes Fernando to mention ‘back in my day,’” Alex added.

“I’m putting five on the first three questions,” Natalie chuckled, nudging the door open with her hip.

George immediately reached for the door to open it for her. “First three? Blimey! I say the first one!”

The lights in the press conference room were too hot. Natalie could already feel the back of her neck starting to itch from the heat of it, but she sat straight, legs crossed neatly at the ankle like Heather had reminded her backstage. There were four of them seated at the front table. Fernando Alonso to her left, Nico Hülkenberg to his, then Alex and George on the far end. It didn’t escape her that someone had purposefully placed her in the center.

“So, Fernando,” one of the journalists started, “how does it feel being up there with the future of Formula 1?”

“Hey, I’m here too,” Nico cut in dryly before Fernando could answer. His deadpan tone earned a decent ripple of laughter from the room.

Fernando just smirked and leaned into the mic. “Yeah… it’s certainly interesting,” he mused, drawing out the words, eyes flicking sideways at George. “Backstage, they were all talking at once and I… I could hardly understand half of what they were saying.”

Laughter broke out louder among the crowd that time. Natalie glanced to her right and caught Alex covering his mouth, shoulders shaking quietly.

They were, undeniably, a pair; George and Alex. Always had been. If you saw one, the other was usually just a few steps behind. Natalie had never figured out which one adopted her first, but somehow they’d both become her best friends on the grid.

Another hand went up. “Alex, does it feel strange to be heading into another season with so many newer faces around you, like Schumacher and Piastri? Or your new teammate, Sargeant?”

Alex shrugged with a grin. “Not strange, exactly. I think it’s good. Keeps us all honest. Plus, I still get to say I’m the mature one at this table.”

“Right. Mature. Sure,” George rolled his eyes.

“And Natalie,” the same reporter continued, shifting attention her way, “you’ve got a big spotlight this season. Does it feel like extra pressure, or does it motivate you?”

Natalie smiled, careful not to let it show how often she’d practiced the answer in her hotel bathroom mirror. “I think pressure’s always part of the job,” she nodded. “It’s there, but that’s what makes it worth doing. And I’ve got people around me who keep me grounded.” She angled her head slightly toward George and Alex. “And I guess they’re pretty alright.”

“‘Alright’? She’s been spending too much time with Horner,” Alex muttered, making her snort.

A hand went up near the back. “Natalie, you’ve known some of these drivers for years now. Can you tell us how that relationship’s changed, now that you’re racing in F1?”

Natalie leaned into the mic again slightly, thinking. “Well… like I said, I’ve known George since we were both teenagers. He crashed into me,” George laughs quietly at Natalie, “He came to my tent hoping to apologize and I didn't want to talk to him. But, my brother said it was too early in my career to start making enemies. So, I accepted and we moved on. Over the season, we really just started hanging out. And then that one,” I pointed at Alex, “was a package deal.”

The laughter this time came with flashes of camera shutters, and Natalie sat back a little, glad the heat in her face could be blamed on the lights as the reporter closed the conference out.

Alonso clapped her on the back as they stepped off the stage. “Good first one,” he said with a grin. “That’s the hardest part.”

Hülkenberg gave a nod. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

Natalie smiled and thanked them both before stepping down with George and Alex at her side.

"Oh shit,” Natalie heard Alex whisper. The temperature in the room dropped quickly as she raised her head to look.

Max leaned against the wall, completing the group of Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris. Only adding to the conversation occasionally, their group was called to the stage and he walked right past the trio.

“Wow... that was a colder shoulder than I expected.” George looked at Natalis.

“I’m telling you guys, he has it out for me! I don't know what I did to piss him off so badly.”

The three of them began walking, their steps falling in synchronization.

“He's always pissed off.” George stated, “you're just a new obstacle to get through to him.”

Natalie kept walking, but not before she leaned toward the two and asked, “It’s whatever. But real talk, who are we stuck doing the next presser with?”

Alex shrugged. “Fernando and Hülk were the main ones for today. I think you’re clear till FP2. Want to grab something before we head to the garage?”

“I heard the Red Bull hospitality suite has those chocolate croissants again,” George added.

Natalie gave them both a look. “Are you serious right now?”

“They’re so delicious Natalie!”

The girl sighed, then smiled. “Fine... But you’re both splitting it with me. And after practice.”

As they stepped through the paddock gate, the security guards nodded them through, and the moment they emerged on the other side, the wall of noise hit. Fans and press crowded against the barrier, voices calling out names, phones shakily recording the trio.

“Natalie! George! Alex! Can we get a photo?”

“Natalie! What do you think of Red Bull’s chances this season?”

“Are you hoping to match your dad’s legacy?”

That one always, always, always stuck. The words never failed to land with a thud somewhere beneath her ribs, sharp and ruthless. Natalie never knew how to answer that without sounding either arrogant or broken. Because the truth was: she didn’t want to match Michael Schumacher’s legacy.

She just wanted him to see hers.

She imagined what he’d say, if he’d been able to stand beside her today. Not just as her father, but as the man who had once dominated the very sport she now participated in. Maybe he’d tease her about her little mistakes, or complain about how different the hybrid era felt. Maybe he’d just hug her with those huge arms and say “I’m proud of you, Nat.”

Maybe he would have said it the moment she first drove a F1 car. Instead, all she was left to remember him was his last name.

Natalie’s mind drifted, just for a moment. Back to the cold, still air of the Alps. The sharp crunch of skis on snow. That terrible silence that followed the accident. Her world instantly being uprooted in the most unexpected, unfair way ever. He had pushed it too far, been so unafraid of consequences for too long.

“Natalie,” a voice tugged her gently back to now.

She blinked and Alex was squinting at her, pulling his sunglasses up to look her in the eye. “I’m gonna stop by the Williams garage for a bit before FP2,” he informed, nodding toward the other side of the paddock. “Catch up with a few of the guys. You good?”

She nodded quickly, clearing her throat. “Yeah. Go. I’ll see you after.”

George was already pulling ahead, checking his phone as he walked toward Mercedes. He turned back for half a second to say, “Try not to get caught in too many fan photos. You’re Red Bull now! You’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Natalie gave him a dry look and flipped him off casually, earning a snort from Alex.

“Tell Toto I said hi,” she shouted as George disappeared into the sea of black uniforms.

Natalie ended the second practice session in third.

Max had been second. But the gap between them was half a tenth, maybe less. That wasn’t what stuck with her. What stuck was the way the car had felt. It was sharp but stable, reactive in all the right ways. Her hands had still been shaking when she unclipped the wheel and climbed out.

Her race engineer, Hugh, had come over the radio just before she reached the garage, voice clear and even despite the static: “P3, Natalie. Good job today. Really good job.”

She nodded to herself as she rolled to a stop, unstrapped, and hopped down onto the pavement. The heat was brutal even in the shade of the canopy, but she barely noticed. Someone handed her a bottle of water as she peeled off her gloves, and she took a sip before being guided toward the media pen.

A new reporter waved her over this time, someone she didn’t recognize. Mid thirties, maybe. He held a mic in one hand and a phone in the other, already smiling before she’d even stopped in front of him.

“Natalie, solid work out there today,” he acknowledged as the mic was clipped to her collar. “P5 in FP1, and P3 in FP2. Feeling confident?”

“I’d say so,” she answered with her voice steady. “The car felt really sharp today. Balance was good, long runs were strong, and the team did a great job adjusting the setup from this morning.”

“Looks like it’s going to be a close fight for pole,” the reporter added. “You, Max, and Charles were within half a second.”

“Yeah,” she raised her brows. “It’s great for the sport, isn’t it? And even better for us as a team, having both cars up there. Let’s hope we can translate it into qualifying.”

The reporter glanced down at his notes, then up again with a slightly mischievous grin. “Now, I have to ask. There’s been some chatter from the grandstands. You’ve probably heard what Max’s nickname for you is, but the fans.. well, they’ve got their own.”

“Oh? I’m almost afraid to ask,” she blinked slowly, awkwardly laughing.

“They’re calling you ‘The Red Intimidator’, but Intimidator for short. Bit of a nod to your father, I think.”

Natalie looked down for a second, adjusting the strap of her fireproof top where it bit into her collarbone. When she looked back up, the smile she gave was small but nevertheless real. “That’s… very kind,” she admitted. “He was the Red Baron. I guess it’s a nice full circle thing, yeah?”

“It’s got a ring to it. The Intimidator of Red Bull,” he assessed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Only if I can back it up,” Natalie replied. “It’s a long season. But if I keep doing my job, and the car stays solid… who knows?”

A voice cut through the low hum of the media zone. Suddenly. there was a high pitched voice, probably a kid, from somewhere behind the barrier.

“Natalie! You’re gonna win tomorrow!”

She turned instinctively, squinting through the crowd until she spotted a young girl with a hat too big for her head, waving with all her might.

“Give me one sec?” she told the reporter, already walking over. Natalie crouched just enough to take the cap and scrawl her name across the brim with a marker someone from the gaggle of people handed her.

The kid was beaming, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe she was real. “Good luck tomorrow, Intimidator!”

Natalie laughed under her breath. “Thanks, kiddo. I’ll need it.”

taglist @anamiad00msday @norstappenvibes @maxswhore33 @ragioniera @anedpev @dannydancer1 @beyond-the-ashes @flowersofdeath @camilahpg03 @iisa-bellla @haileyweinstein @butterflygxril @c3lest328 @toxicthotsyndrome68 @d-aydr3aming-in-stars @itsjustmyopinionf1 @quelinameowl @lagrandeoursee @havaneselover08 @luckyladycreator2 @linneaadele @softmhm @gabriellepearce96 @cryinghotmess @manuztb @embonbon @lelevs @athanasia-day @darkkingchild @wallowinmemories @scentedrosa @at-a-rax-ia @mynameisangeloflife @yuzon3 @satorinnie @simple-soul-searcher @alavbe @f1enthusiast69 @guaaafiiburg @thefandomswhre @quuinyoung

[abbyscoins]

something overwhelming, something everlasting

pairing: WLF!Abby x f!reader

content & warnings: unintentional trespasser reader turned WLF, canonical violence, slow burn romance, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, no reader description, character death, smut (18+) (to be updated)

men + minors dni

chapter rundown: work and play >:), reader’s first WLF party, mild sexual harassment, abby comes back to reader’s room??????????? :0

a/n: i love love love this chapter guys i’m ngl

word count: 3.7k

Chapter Three: Back to your room

Upon entering the kitchen just before 11:30 to begin preparing for the lunch rush, it was quiet.

‘Hey? Anyone in?’ You called out as you tied your apron around your waist.  

‘Yeah, back here!’ You heard a muffled voice call from the pantry. It sounded like Sam, a gentle giant of a man who had been quiet and reproachful for the first few weeks that you were here. You barely spoke, working in comfortable silence whenever your shifts crossed. He seemed nice enough, always well-mannered. It wasn’t until, one afternoon, while walking through the double doors with perhaps one-too-many heavy crates of vegetables, he slipped, breaking the ice of acquaintanceship between the two of you. And possibly a rib.

Flinging the greenery up in the air and in all directions, he crashed onto the linoleum, yelping as he went.

‘Oh my god! Sam!’ You exclaimed, rushing over with a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, unsure what to do.

He held up a hand, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, nothing but a bruised ego,’ He shifted his body into an upright position, legs splayed out in front of him. ‘Ouch— and a bruised ass, apparently, fuck…’ You stopped in your tracks, making momentary eye contact. Then, you both burst out laughing. You couldn’t stop yourself; you laughed so much that you ended up on the floor, too, hands clutched over your aching stomach, tears in your eyes. You don’t know why this event triggered such a reaction from you, but it felt so good to laugh.

After helping him collect the vegetables from under the tables and triple checking he was really alright, you had been comfortable making pleasant conversation with each other for the rest of your shift. You shared embarrassing and awkward stories with one another. It was a nice, wholesome way to grow your friendship.

Sam must have been quite a bit older than you, in his late 30s, early 40s, maybe. He was married, his younger wife was a soldier, and he spoke of her often.

‘I know she’s strong, capable. So, I’m not trying to… But… you know,’

‘You miss her?’

‘Yeah! I miss her. And I worry. I know she can handle herself out there, but there’s always so many possibilities…’

‘I understand,’ you offered him a comforting smile, ‘It’s only natural to worry about the people you love.’

‘Right.’ He agreed, wiping the sweat off of his brow with a hand towel.

Just then, Polly entered the room swiftly, a low grunting sounded from her as she moved through the room. The energy shifted awkwardly; you and Sam shared a confused look as you continued peeling vegetables, and he prepared the salmon. She seemed slightly off this morning.

‘Hey, Polly,’ you tried greeting her. She slowed her pace a little, turning to you, giving you a slight huff of a returned hello.

A few minutes of awkward silence filled the air of the kitchen as everyone worked, no one knowing quite what to say with the newfound uncomfortable tension.

‘Everything alright, Pol?’ Sam attempted again, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.

‘Not really, son. This one’s got me all worked up!’

‘Me?’ you stood, slightly surprised at her finger jabbing your way out of the corner of your eye.

‘Yea, you, missy. I don’t like seein’ ya hangin’ out with all the wrong crowd. It’s not sittin’ right.’

You and Sam shared a look, unsure about how to approach this outburst.

‘Sam is our coworker, Polly… We were just chatting. But I understand if you want us to get on with working—’

‘Not ‘im! You know who!’ She huffed, exasperated, rolling her eyes and flinging her dish towel on a nearby surface.

You stood confused, wracking your brain thinking of anyone she could possibly be talking about. To your most recent knowledge, the only people you’d spoken to since the last time you saw Polly yesterday had been Sam, and Nora outside this morning.

‘How did you…? Polly what are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talkin’ about. I just worry about you, kid. I don’t want anyone messin’ with ya.’

‘Why would anyone be messing with me? Look Polly, I appreciate you worryi—’ She glanced at you with a cold expression filling her hazel eyes. Your stomach dropped, a feeling of discomfort washing over you.

You desperately wanted to set some boundaries, recalling the conversation at the dinner table a few weeks ago where you’d been called Polly’s ‘new project’. You had assumed it was only people judging Polly based on her strangeness. She had been nothing but helpful to you, sometimes giving you some criticism here and there, just like a manager does. But nothing so out of the blue, so out of her realm of business. Was she spying on you? The thought sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had to remind yourself that she was older, she might just be slightly confused or having a bad day. But, if it was Nora she was talking about, what did she have against her? And why was she watching you?

The shift passed slowly, awkwardly. You had been thinking about the invite from Nora, tossing the idea around in your head. You hadn’t planned to make an appearance, to be honest; you appreciated the offer, it was kind. You wanted to get to know Nora more, and you hoped you would become closer if you’d be seeing more of each other out on the track. But, you were tired, and unprepared.

Now, though, you felt an odd sense of rebellion. You didn’t want to feel like a teenager; she can’t tell me what to do, kind of stuff, but you felt a searing desire to go against what Polly said. You respected Polly, but you were your own woman. You weren’t meek and easily pliable like you know you came across when first arriving here.

Fuck it, you thought. Couldn’t hurt to show up for a little while.

As you walked up the corridor, following the small sea of people all chattering excitedly, the music slowly got louder, as did the sound of your heart in your ears. It would be fine. You would go in, see what the fuss was about, maybe see Nora and say hi, then go back up to your room and tick off the ‘be sociable’ mental to-do for the week.

When you enter the moderately crowded room, you don’t see Nora anywhere. You spend a few minutes walking around to see if you could spot her. Failing that, you then settled by the table of drinks for a while, sipping on something sweet that was being served in a bowl with a ladle, like some high school prom.

‘Hey, you want another drink?’ You turned to see a tall man, slightly wobbly on his feet, looking at you with glassy dark eyes. He had a disconcerting smirk on his dry lips as he looked you up and down, his head tilting slightly.

‘Nah, I’m good.’ You gave your response, short and direct.

‘Oh, c’mon. You’re standing here all alone, let me give you some company,’ He bargained, and you got the feeling it wasn’t an offer, but an insertion of his presence into your night.

‘Look, I’m just here to say hi to someone, alright? I don’t need your company,’ You looked him in the eye, frowning. You never had much patience for men like this, nor was your toleration getting any stronger as the years of survival dragged on. If there was one thing you hated most, it was the fact that men thought you were an easy target. You weren’t necessarily intimidating, but you could certainly hold your own, and being underestimated was a key component in the take down of quite a few people with bad intentions when you had been travelling across the country.

‘Pssh. You think you’re something special, doncha? You—’

‘Hey,’ A voice from behind you firmly stated. When you turned, Abby’s eyes were trained on him. As much as you thought her face was sweet, she looked almost mad in the dim orange glow of the room. Her eyes shone with intensity, something more than annoyance, as she stood with a hand on her hip.

‘Abby?’ The man stood up straight, facial expression dropping slightly. ‘Oh, you’re the one she’s waiting for? My bad, I didn’t—’

‘Danny,’ She interrupted, shaking her head. ‘C’mon, man, what is wrong with you?’

Danny looked away for a second, seeming embarrassed. Abby placed her hand lightly between your shoulder blades, beginning to lead you away, barely breaking her eyes away from him until she turned around.

Once you’d gotten to a quieter corner of the party, Abby let her arm drop from your back.

‘Sorry, for grabbing you like that. I didn’t mean to seem…’ She looked flustered, uncomfortable, like after the adrenaline of the situation passed, she regretted getting involved at all. One of her hands found the back of her neck in a self-comforting action, ‘Danny is a dick. I thought I should come help, but I know you didn’t need it… I’ll just—’ She shifted awkwardly, pointing a thumb in a vague direction as she turned to leave.

‘Abby, wait,’ you reached out to stop her, suddenly thinking better of touching her, and stepping back. Still, she stopped and waited for you to continue. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. Thanks for, you know, being my hero,’ You teased, giving her a gentle nudge on the arm, smiling to let her know you weren’t mad or uncomfortable with her intrusion.

Her frame softened slightly, facial muscles relaxing. It was then that you took in what she was wearing. A tight-fitted long sleeve in a shade of blue that matched her eyes, with dark belted jeans and her boots. The way the sleeves hugged her arms caused you to consciously have to refrain from biting into your bottom lip.

‘Yeah, no problem.’ She sighed slightly, looking down at the floor.

‘You look good, by the way,’ You said, ‘I mean, I like your outfit,’ You quickly added, realising you probably sounded far too forward.

‘Thanks, I didn’t know what to wear. I don’t often participate in…’ She gestured around the large hall, ‘The binge drinking sessions, I guess. Usually better things to do,’ She concluded, a slight blush blooming across her cheeks. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I get along with the others, but they can be a handful. Especially with alcohol involved.’

‘I don’t like parties,’ You sympathised, ‘I only heard about it this morning, so I thought I should at least check it out… I might head out soon,’

‘I can walk you back.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that—’

‘Hey, I’m offering.’ she interjected softly. She didn’t know what had come over her, whether it was the alcohol talking or the weeks of trying to get you out of her mind, only to have you claw your way back in; whichever it was, it made her disregard every self-disciplined bone in her body the second she saw you being bothered across the room. So much for letting you come to her.

‘Okay, that would be nice,’ you agreed.

On your way up to your room, you walked in comfortable silence, Abby occasionally taking two steps at a time on the stairs, waiting for you at every turn. You had the impression she was either nervous, or you just walked too slow for her.

‘Thanks,’ you smiled as you reached your door. ‘Hey, you wanna come in for a bit?’ You thought it polite to ask, even though you were certain she’d decline.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Just for a little, I have to be up tomorrow.’

You tried not to look surprised as you turned the key in your door, heartbeat stuttering. Abby was going to be in your room. If someone had told you that information when you woke up this morning, you would have rolled your eyes and scoffed in true sceptic fashion.

‘Welcome. Humble abode, and all that,’ You threw over your shoulder, taking your jacket off and throwing it messily on the table, kicking your boots off at the same time.

She chuckled, giving you a once over as she ventured into the room. She looked around, wandering over to the bookshelf against the wall. She saw your various trinkets on the top shelf, nosily scrutinising them, curious about the things you were collecting. You had a little pot full of cool looking stones, as well as various dried flowers, plants and herbs all tied together with a piece of frayed string. She noticed a tiny wooden carved dog figurine, about the size of her pinkie finger, hidden in the corner of the shelf. It was as if you had purposely put him there, facing the wall.

Her finger traced the books you kept on the middle shelf, her brow furrowed attentively. You watched her from the table, taking in her subtle reactions to each title she recognised. Seeing her in your space was making your mind race, and the warmth of alcohol in your system wasn’t helping.

‘I love this one,’ she picked out a battered novel, spine cracked in multiple places, suggesting it to be well-loved by you, too.

‘It’s one of my favourites,’ you beamed, ‘When I found it, I was so excited. I must have read it three times through since being here. There’s something so comforting about the sisters. God, it breaks my heart, but it’s beautiful. Young female protagonists are just— Sorry, ranting…’

When you looked up, she was looking at you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

‘No, don’t be sorry. I like that you’re passionate,’ She carefully placed the book back on the shelf. ‘Almost cried the first time I read it, so I get it,’

‘Oh, I did too,’ You laughed. ‘Like a baby.’

She smiled, drumming her hands awkwardly on the shelf, still looking around the room –taking everything in – committing your organised mess to memory.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ You offered, unsure of what to say next.

‘I’ll hate myself for it tomorrow, but yes,’

You walked over to the kitchenette, her following close behind. You reached into a cabinet, fishing around in the back for the bottle Polly had given you; it was some concoction she had been brewing bottles of for years, apparently. It tasted like shit, but it certainly did its job. You poured a couple of shot’s worth into two lowball glasses and handed her one, clinking your cups before taking a drink.

‘God—what is that?’ She grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

You laughed at her expression, ‘Something Polly makes. It’s just fermented old fruit, or something. It really is bad, though,’

Her frame stiffened at the mention of Polly, but she quickly shook it off, hoping you would put it down to the drink, if you noticed at all.

‘I should know better than to be taking drink offers from strangers in their rooms…’ She changed the subject, taking another sip and peeking out of the corner of her eye for a reaction.

‘Hey! Are you suggesting I’d drug you?! We’re not strangers… Not really,’ You feigned offence, pushing her lightly. ‘And besides, how would I even go about getting something like that? I’d have to go rummaging—'

‘Oh my god, why are you actually thinking about it?!’ She laughed, highly amused by your tangent. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t trick me like that even if you tried,’ She continued poking fun at you, turning and making her way to the living area. She seemed so comfortable. You stayed where you were for a moment, starting to wonder how this woman could be so complex. She was difficult to understand the essence of, even after being aware of her for so long. You had seen her act cold towards people, towards you. Yet when she was warm, God she was warm.

‘Are you coming?’ She paused.

‘Yeah.’ You followed her to your couch, and you both sat, you with your legs up underneath you, her with one foot planted on the ground, the other knee lazily hanging half on the chair, so she was angled facing you. It was a small couch, so you were quite close, but it didn’t bother you; you already felt so normal about interacting with her and having her here.

‘So… when you’re out there, y’know, patrolling…’

‘Oh God, work talk?’ she sighed, but she looked at you attentively, waiting for you to continue.

‘Well, I was just wondering… if you ever get scared. Out there.’ You gestured. You felt like the alcohol was impairing your ability to make conversation, but Abby didn’t seem to mind much.

‘Sure, I do. I think anyone who says they don’t is either a liar or a psychopath,’ the phrase rolled off her tongue like she’s had this conversation lot of times before. ‘But… I don’t know. It’s just something I do. Scars are always hostile, and trespassers are most of the time, too. I respect Isacc, and I think he respects me…’ she trailed off, frowning slightly, looking down at her hands.

‘And what, you think he’s like… a reasonable man?’

She cocked her eyebrow at you. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘Well, I don’t know. It seems a little extreme to go after regular people who might just need help,’

‘Well he let you in here, didn’t he?’ She took another sip of her drink, her expression unreadable.

‘I guess so.’ You frowned. An awkward pause lingered between you.

‘You must train like crazy,’ you say, slightly changing the subject, sensing her mind was racing with unwanted thoughts at the previous the line of conversation.

‘Well, yeah, it’s tough. But I like it. You don’t do any other training? Just cardio?’ she asked curiously.

‘Nah. I keep it simple, to be honest. I know it’s never bad to get a little stronger, I just wouldn’t know where to start with all of the weights. I know how to fight, obviously…’

‘I could train you,’ she put the offer out there casually, simply. Like it was an inevitability for you both.

‘You just wanna see me embarrass myself, don’t you?’

‘Not at all. Unless you’re into that…’

You shove her lightly, a blush threatening to bloom in your face. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘Sorry. You’re just fun to tease.’ She laughed, laying back and putting her hands behind her head. Her fingers brushed something soft behind the couch cushions.

‘What’s this?’ she pulled out a small, worn stuffed animal, it resembled a lamb, or maybe a goat? She couldn’t tell due to its ragged state.

‘Oh… that’s nothing. Well, not nothing. It’s mine— my toy. Not toy, well, from when I was a kid…’ You trailed off in your tipsy state, not knowing whether to burst into laughter or tears at your flustered explanation.

You looked up at Abby, and she had her eyes on you. They were soft, fond. You noticed her blue irises ran almost honey-coloured closer to the pupil, her thick lashes perfectly framing her pretty eye shape. She had a smile spread across her face. You untensed your shoulders a little, shaking your head and laying against the pillows, smiling.

‘Don’t judge me,’ you said in a drawn out and strained voice, grinning nonetheless, poking a finger at her side.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ she teased, but her eyes shone with an earnestness that made your smile falter. You studied her face a little more as a comfortable silence fell over the room. You suddenly felt extremely aware of how close you were to her. She smelled good, warm, earthy. Like pine. You felt your teeth graze your lower lip inadvertently, looking at her… she was perfect. Her mouth, her bumped nose, her build. The scars that settled themselves on different parts of her body, like they were meant to be there — lightening streaking a thunderous sky — reminders of the fight in her. Though this juxtaposed her softer features – her freckles, her otherwise smooth skin – they somehow perfectly coincided. It made her complete, it made her Abby, you thought, your hazy mind laughing at your silly drunken clichés.

‘What’s his name?’

‘…Doobie. Don’t ask,’

She looked like she struggled refraining herself from laughing, but she managed. ‘You’re definitely telling me that story one day.’

She broke eye contact, placing your stuffie back between the cushions, patting them lightly. ‘There, safe and sound.’

You felt your eyelids growing soft and sleepy as you lay curled up on the couch, watching her.

‘You tired?’ She asked, appraising your cosy position. ‘I should get going…’

‘Wait, Abby—’ You rested a hand on her forearm. She waited. A beat of silence. ‘Just…stay for a little more.’ Your cheeks burned at the unchecked vulnerability, but you couldn’t have cared less about being subtle in that moment.

She looked down at your hand, perplexed, but didn’t attempt to get up again, yet. ‘Okay.’

She sat back, laying her head on the couch cushions for a while, pondering. She enjoyed listening to your breathing grow slow and rhythmic. Your hand was warm. When she dared turn to look at you again, your eyes were fully closed, lips slightly parted. She gently took your hand off her arm and got up as slowly as she could.

‘C’mon, sleepyhead.’ She spoke softly, gently pushing her arms underneath your slumbering frame and lifting you. She angled you into her chest so that your neck didn’t move so much as to wake you, and she carried you over to your bed.

Once she placed you down and covered you with the blanket, something flared in her chest. Likened to anxiety, but difficult to unthread properly in her mind. She looked at you for a moment longer, tenderly moving away a piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes. She then stood back up to her full height, sighing lightly as she turned to leave, not looking back as she closed the door quietly behind her.  

© all work on this page belongs to abbyscoins — please do not translate, use AI on, or repost my work!

taglist: @067supremacy, @rareanduselessbird, @petrichor222, @mxmsuki, @littlefirelilly, @carolinadyke, @marvelwomenarehot0, @chuvadejaneiro, @tthoroughfare, @abigail-andersons-wife, @jenniferfigueroa ♡︎

[mylovewasbulletproof]

Catalyst pt 2

couple of quick updates: I decided I’m not re-writing part 1 (at least right now) and you all seemed to enjoy it so here we go

If you haven’t read pt 1 it offers some back story but I don’t think you’ll be totally lost if you don’t read it

I have more ideas for this pairing as well as ideas for some robby pairings. let me know if you want more!

warnings: Pittfest, anxiety, panic attacks, soft!jack, canon typical injuries, likely some medical inaccuracies, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suicidal thoughts, mention of throwing up, dissociation, angst, death of a patient, still pining but getting closer for sure

Jack Abbot x R4 amputee reader

——————————————————————

You never liked working day shifts. It felt like you were too noticeable. Working the night shift had always felt comfortable. Like the darkness could hide you away if you need it to.

The only reason you were back at the Pitt was because Dana had asked you to cover for Robby. It was the anniversary of Adamson’s passing and he usually took it off.

“Did you know Dr. Robby was working today?” You asked Jack who had been giving you shift change notes

“No. No idea.” He shrugged before telling you that he would see you later for the next shift change

——————————————————————

One thing about the day shift is that you were never bored. With an average wait time of 3 hours in the waiting room, you were doing your best to treat patients and discharge them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, not everyone in the waiting room appreciated your effort.

You were checking in on Dana, who thankfully hadn’t been seriously injured by an angry patient, when she got the call.

There was a shooter at Pittfest and we needed to prepare the ER for a mass casualty incident.

Your breath hitched and suddenly you couldn’t hear anything over your heart beat echoing in your ears. A loud clap from Dr. Robby seemed to reset your senses. You hadn’t even realized that Jack was already here.

You were told that you were going to assist both the red zone and triage. Dr. Robby trusted you to make quick decisions about where you were needed most given the current patients coming in. Before patients started arriving, he asked you to start stocking all the trauma bays with the supplies coming out of the mass casualty incident bins.

“Do we have any more ket or roc vials I can put in the last few trauma bays?” You asked Jack, knowing he was coordinating the flow of supplies

“Not currently. I’m waiting on one more bin. There should be some more within the next 2 minutes” Jack replied, checking inventory lists

“Ok, I’ll be back then” you were halfway to exiting the bay when he called your name

“Are you okay? I know-“

“I’m fine. I don’t have any other choice. Right?” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence

“If you need anything, come find me. Okay?” he meets your eyes for a split second, softening his just enough to only be noticeable to you

——————————————————————

Patients came pouring in. At this point, you had lost track of how many patients you’d treated. It seemed like one patient would stabilize, just for another one to crash.

You hadn’t spent long in triage. Just enough time to grab your next patient. On your way out of the ambulance bay you tried not to glare at the reporter trying to shove her way inside.

“Ok, ma’am you can let go now” you say gently, trying to pull her son from her arms

“I want to stay with my son” she says

“He will be very close by. This one’s red, I’ll take it” you say before pushing off with the gurney

“How can I help?” Mohan meets you at the double doors

“I need hemostatic dressings, a chest tube, probably O neg, at least a bag. It’s a penetrating chest wound left side” you instruct, looking for a space to stop your patient and begin working

“I don’t have a pulse” Mohan calls

“God damn it” you position yourself on top of the gurney, beginning compressions

“Mohan, I need you to use an IO drill to go into the bone marrow and start the transfusion” you instruct, pausing to get a pulse check

Mohan follows your instructions. Handing off the blood bag to Princess to hold

“I’m gonna have to put in a chest tube and try auto-transfusing. He’s just losing too much”

Jack couldn’t help but let his eyes flick up from his own patient to look up at you. He wasn’t sure what injuries your patient had but regardless it didn’t make sense to try and auto-transfuse without a pulse. It didn’t make sense why you hadn’t called it yet. He passed his patient off to Walsh before crossing over to where you were working.

“Penetrating chest wound. Gone through 2 hemostatic dressings. Transfused 1 bag of O neg, just started auto-transfusing” you call, sensing his presence behind you

“How much are you looking to auto-transfuse?” He asks softly, glancing between you and your patient

“Not sure. 1200 maybe?” you pause again, looking for a pulse, before quickly resuming

“Then what?” He asks, trying to get you to think through the process and realize that you needed to call time of death

“I don’t know Dr. Abbot. Why don’t you tell me?” you huffed, not understanding why he was choosing now to watch you work

Jack looked a little bit closer at the patient. It was then that he realized that this injury mirrored your brothers’. The patient was a similar age. He took a deep breath before offering his advice:

“If he was my patient, I’d have called it. Look at that wound Y/N. In the field he would’ve been pronounced.”

“He had a pulse when he came in. If I can just get his volume back up” You rush out

“You’d need several bags of blood that we just don’t have. If he was our only patient, maybe. But even then chances would be slim” he sighs, a sinking feeling brewing in his chest

You did one more round and one more check for a pulse with the Doppler before pushing back and calling time of death. Jack watched as you definitely jumped down from the patient harder than necessary. Scribbling furiously on the card attached to your patient. He didn’t even have a chance to speak before you were rushing off and he was being pulled for a different patient.

——————————————————————

Eventually, the ambulances and vehicles began to slow. The red and pink zones had been cleared. It was mostly patients in the yellow zone waiting to be scheduled for surgery or moved upstairs. You had been moving on auto pilot since you had called time of death. But as people around you started to slow down, you realized that you needed to go notify the boy’s family.

They teach you in med school that grief can express itself in many different ways. Some people cry, some people scream, others stare at the wall in shock, and some get angry.

You knew all of that and thought you had prepared yourself well enough. This wasn’t the first patient you had lost. You had done this before and watched both Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot do them as well.

You knocked on the closed door of the family room. You took one big deep breath before entering the room.

“Thank you for your patience. My name is Dr. L/N and I worked on your son when he came in this evening”

“Yes, please, tell us about our son, Henry” his mother trembled, waiting anxiously for your reply

“Henry came in with very serious injuries. The bullet entered the left side of his chest, through his lung, before stopping several inches from his spine. He lost his pulse very quickly after arriving. The blood loss was too severe. I am so sorry for your loss” you finished, before bracing yourself

Immediately his father began throwing insults and casting blame. He had said you didn’t try hard enough and that you should’ve been able to save him, along with several expletives describing you. His mother just repeated no over and over again, covering her ears and rocking back and forth.

You restated how sorry you were for their loss before excusing yourself from their room. The hallway passed by in a blur, you had one place you were headed for. Only stopping long enough to empty your stomach into a trash can nearby.

——————————————————————

Jack had listened as Dr. Robby did his debrief. Subtly scanning the room, he realized you weren’t there. He knew it would look bad if he left in the middle of Michael’s debrief but he was itching to go find you. But he also knew you weren’t okay after calling that time of death. Things had moved so quickly afterwards that he hadn’t had a chance to find you and talk through it.

He waited until Michael was done, making sure to confirm that he was up for a beer in the park before setting off towards the elevators.

As he pushed open the door to the roof, it didn’t take long for his eyes to find your pacing figure. He could tell your eyes were red and puffy and you were limping. There was something bothering you about your prosthetic but you just kept walking back and forth.

You were re-running every second of that code in your head — trying and failing to convince yourself that. The pain in your leg was background noise to the chaos unfolding in your head. The only thing you could feel was the sting of the wind against your soaked cheeks and the suffocating weight on your chest.

Jack couldn’t stand to watch you walk back and forth for much longer. He slowly approached, trying to make some noise to avoid scaring you. But you were clearly somewhere else, not registering your surroundings. It scared Jack, seeing you so dissociated and so close to the edge of that roof. He was starting to understand Michael’s concern when the roles were reversed.

He had made one last attempt to get your attention before deciding that he needed to step in front of you. Hopefully it would disrupt the cycle you were stuck in and begin to ground you. He moved just slightly into your path, hands out to steady you. You bumped into his chest which caused you to look up at him. His relief didn’t last long when he realized it was like you were looking through him. He’d seen that thousand yard stare before , in comrades on the battlefield, in himself after a particularly bad nightmare. He lightly grabbed both sides of your face, just enough pressure to pull you back to the present.

Your breath caught slightly, like it got stuck in your throat. Your eyes seemed to clear, just slightly before your breathing picked up and you began mumbling. It took him several seconds to realize what you were saying

“It’s my fault. I couldn’t save him. I’m so sorry”

“Hey Y/N, I need you to focus on me. Big deep breaths” he urged, he could practically see your carotid pulse moving in your neck

You stopped speaking but continued to shake your head. Your knees buckled soon after, causing him to move one of his hands to your waist to steady you.

“Ok honey. Let’s sit down. Okay?” He tapped his fingers against the side of your waist before guiding the both of you into a seated position. He moved so you were sitting chest to chest, leaving enough space for your legs to stretch out behind him. He took both your hands, pressing one to his chest, directly over his heart and the other he began to squeeze gently.

“Come on. Match my breathing. I don’t want you passing out on me” he pushed, watching as you began to try and slow your breathing

“Good girl. That’s it. Keep going. You’re doing so good” he felt some of the weight lift off his shoulders as your pulse and breathing began to even out

The two of you sat like that for several more minutes. Trying to center yourselves.

“Jack?” your voice cracked, dragging your eyes from their spot on the floor to meet his

“Yes honey. I’m right here. Talk to me” his face had softened in ways you had never seen before — the creases by his eyes smoothed, his mouth didn’t seem permanently stuck in a scowl

“He looked just like him. And I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save either of them” your voice trailed off as you curled into yourself

“I know. But there was no saving that boy tonight and you have no blame in what happened to your brother, you know that” he murmured, reaching up to your cheek to catch a stray tear

“I just don’t understand why I keep being spared as the people around me die. Why did I become a doctor if I can’t save people?” you sniffled

“You worked on 27 different patients today. 26 of them are on their way to recovery because of you. You’ll always remember the ones you couldn’t save but I refuse to let you convince yourself that you’re a bad doctor. That’s basically an insult towards me. I trained you” the corners of his mouth twitched up, hoping that it would help lighten your mood

You yawned before realizing that you were still sitting in Jack’s lap. You scrambled off, opting to sit down next to him. He still hasn’t let go of your hand, as if he’s worried you’ll float away if he does. You hesitate for a moment, before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder

“Michael has two beers with our names on it if you want to go join the crew or I can just take you home” he looked down at you, offering you the options

“I need at least one beer before I go home or I won’t be able to sleep tonight” you groan, slowly pushing yourself back into a standing position

You offer Jack your hand again, helping him stand up

“Will you let me look at your leg while you drink?” He asks, gently tapping his prosthetic against yours

“How did you-“ you pause before deciding against finishing your question “If you want. I guess. I think it’s just inflamed. I didn’t expect to be here this long so I didn’t wear the right sleeve”

He hums in acknowledgment, pulling you towards the door, “I want to check it for cellulitis, just to be safe”

“You act like I’m not a doctor myself” you huff, pulling yourself a bit closer to him, shivering as the wind blew

“It’s actually because I know you’re a doctor that I know you’re not going to pay attention to it unless it gets bad. It’s okay to let people take care of you”

“That’s rich coming from the self care king himself. I’ll let you take care of me as soon as you let me take care of you” you retort, and for once Jack didn’t have some witty reply ready. He would let you take care of him. But neither of you were ready to admit that.

The staff that worked in the Pitt that night would be undeniably changed for the rest of their lives. What happened that night was horrific but it also made you so incredibly grateful for your found family.

————————————————————————

thank you for all the love on the last part!

[bkdk-bylerthings]

UPDATED THIS POST GO READ THE END I ADDED MORE I MISSED BEFORE

They gave us SUCH A BIG BYLER HINT in the reel that @/strangerthingstv posted on instagram today popping off with the celebration of stranger things day

Let me explain, I might be reaching with the first part of this but you never know

Credit to @pixidivine for posting about two of the frames which made me go back and rewatch the reel to analyze it more.

First part I want to talk about is Dustin asking Mike and Lucas if they are both seriously this Dense. When he says: “this dense” it lands on Mike and stays on Mike till he is done talking then goes to Lucas making Mike the subject of this.

This could mean Mike being clueless to his own feelings for Will or in season 4 of him being clueless about the lying coming from Will and that that Will likes him.

Second part, where I got the idea from which is shown in the reel RIGHT AFTER THE DENSE COMMENT:

Nancy asking Mike if the way he’s been acting was because of Will then we have Joyce saying “Ring a ding ding” like the sound of bells going off when something is correct. ‼️

They did this on purpose, because with these videos promoting a movie/TV series/anything they take clips of different scenes to put together to make a cohesive sentence so it makes sense to the subject of what the video is talking about, which in this case it’s about ST day and Rewatching ST on ST day…but is it??

That leads to my next part which is this:

There is a double meaning here that most people won’t think about.

Obviously we have the 1st part talking about the special day which is ST day, then we have Mike saying “what’s exciting about this” then Joyce says: “just watch”

Interesting because we already know ST is exciting and a good show, so good point Michael what is exciting about ST day? Hmmm HINTS and NEW N E W INFO—we don’t have to rewatch it to know that it’s an exciting show. What is exciting is what they give us in the reel, Joyce saying “Just watch” is a double meaning the front meaning MEANING to rewatch the show, the hidden meaning is to JUST WATCH THE REEL

Which gives us THE BYLER HINT RIGHT AFTER THAT ‼️ I find it interesting that all the words throughout this reel are about ST and watching it and how exciting it is but the Will comment???? That’s totally out of place!!

The order of these frames so it makes more sense, u can also just watch the video to understand what I’m trying to say:

1 “Is a very special day”

2 “It’s ST day”

3 “what’s exciting about this?”

4 “just watch”

EDIT: (4.5) “Why?”

5 “are you both seriously”

6 “this dense”

7 “I thought it was bc of will”

8 “Ring a ding ding

EDIT bc I totally missed this in the reel too omg— ok here we have a frame of El asking “why” after Joyce says “just watch”

(And maybe an interesting hint to actually go watch the 1st episode bc byler was there all along)

This is even more questioning!! Right after we get Mike’s Questioning!! It makes you want to think again, like didn’t Joyce answer Mike already with a “Just watch” why is El now asking

After “why” is THEN when we gets Dustin’s “are you both seriously this Dense”

Which is LITERALLY asking WHY THE DOUBLE QUESTION, WHY is this reel and what is the reel actually trying to tell us

Then ofc after “this dense” It’s like They give us an answer to all the questions:

“I thought it was Because of Will”

Omg so after two asks, Dustin being fed up with what ur not understanding, we get a answer

“Ring a ding ding” 🤯

OR

GO BACK TO THE FIRST EP, AND WHY??? EL ASKS?? WHY IS DUSTIN FED UP??

THEY GIVE US THE ANSWER WHY TO WATCH IT AGAIN OMG

(Sry guys I’m back tracking on my theory holy shit)

THE ANSWER WAS “I thought it was bc of will”

WHICH IS DIRECTED AT MIKEEEE

“RING A DING DING”

*slams paper on table that reads ‘byler is real’*

[bokettochild]

Ketto's Update Thoughts: Crescent Flame 1

Okay! I missed the last one, so here's this one!

Honestly, I love this pairing! I love that Legend and Hyrule, the two OG Links, are the ones teamed up. For character building, I'm not keen on it, but for asthetics? Gosh, my first two games were the OG Zelda and ALTTP, so watching the boys hit all the traditional dungeon requirements together, all the ones you'd expect in their games, makes me very happy. (I am dying to know what that torch does! They never JUST light up the room, except in moving floor levels- that is, if I'm remembering right?)

It's good to see Legend relaxing a bit more, and that bit with the pots! Yes, he took a risk, tossing it at Hyrule's freaking HEAD, but he's being playful and not as tense. If he was the bully the rest thought, he'd totally have tried to snatch that rupee, since he grabbed the pot first, but instead we have this little reaction

(Love his little smile here, omgosh!!!!)

-

I am curious about why JoJo chose to have the Age Bookends interrupt the two boys; was it just a way to get these two, mostly silent, Links to start talking? Or will we be seeing the groups stumble over each other a bit through the dungeon? Doubling over ground already covered? If this is based of Downfall dungeons (which it has many traits of so far) that would track, but if not, then I wander why it is that way.

I might be thinking too much though, and besides, it did give us THIS funny interactions

Like, this has, at the very least, got to be JoJo having fun with the fact that all of us can't make up our minds where Four fits in the Age range of the group, and maybe this is where we start to get more confirmation for all the ages! I mean, we did have Wars classifying Legend, officially, with the 'kids', and Sky is now counted with the adults (in the early days a lot of folks had him on the younger side, not equal to Twilight)

.....

Okay, I know I'm hyper-focusing on Legend, but hey, this is the first time we've seen this much of him in a bit, and I'm getting some DDR flashbacks right now; the two heroes' wandering off, discussing something as they go, something that has Legend feeling a certain kinda angst, and I just get the impression that maybe something's going to happen with him here.

I have been wondering why JoJo included the bunny arc before, especially as it has no plot relevance save setting up the relationship with Twilight and Sky, which could have been accomplished through other means (although it would have taken longer). The fact of the matter though is that Hyrule was brought into it back then:

which has had me wondering for a while if JoJo might revisit this, and perhaps the bit about Warriors too; she's been fleshing out that relationship more as of late as well!

Which brings me to my next point!

followed by

This is really interesting to me, considering just how much Legend's whole existence is wrapped up beside the ideas of knighthood and the existence of knights! In his games, we learn he's the last of a bloodline of ancient knights, his uncle was a knight, and it's likely his father was one too. Yet his most common enemies in the Light world are also knights, not monsters- at least during his first adventure! So it makes sense that he'd have complicated feelings about it.

However, we've seen Legend spout some very definitive opinions about knights on the whole:

Maybe it's just me, but given his own heritage, combined with his resentment, I'm starting to think Legend's still trying to convince himself how terrible knights are, and maybe not just because of what they've done to him, but maybe out of a feeling of being less-than or unworthy, much like Hyrule himself! Except, rather than openly admiring what he'd like to be, he mocks it to make himself feel better about not being able to achieve it, hence why he tends to pick more on Warriors and Sky, the two knights, rather than the rest of the group (given that Wild doesn't remember much of being a knight, I don't think he counts in Legend's book).

Again, maybe I'm reading into it more than I should, but this expression

seems to let on that there's more to this than Legend's saying. he's not even speaking loud enough for Hyrule to hear him (the traveler is obviously focused elsewhere) so one can assume this is more a comment to himself, yet there's more regret than anger in that face, more resignation than resentment, like something about the thought of never being a knight actually hurts Legend in some way.

.....

Oh well, maybe I'm reading into this too much, I have been writing a lot of angst today, so maybe that's what's up LOL

Either way, I'm so glad for a Legend centric update, and I'm eager to see where JoJo takes what she's setting up here. i'm pretty sure we'll be tuning in next time to one of the other groups (maybe the Age Bookends again, since they showed up here), but whatever happens, I will be watching eagerly!

[aryadelvich]

May the act begins Part 2 - Luigi Mangione x Reader

Summary : You thought that everything was over. Luigi, his family, his ex… over. But things didn’t go this way.

Notes : Here’s a second part since everyone asked me for one— thanks for all your comments—hope this please you !!!!

Warnings : Toxic Luigi, fake dating, jealous Luigi, smut,

Words count : 6,9k (get cosy before reading;))

Updated Masterlist

Yes, Luigi had gotten back together with his ex. At first, it was weird seeing them around campus, but eventually, you just stopped caring. You weren’t going to stay hung up on it—he was nobody to you. It was just a one-night thing and a bit of mutual rivalry. Now? There’s nothing left. Not even the rivalry.

His girlfriend had forbidden him from talking to you, which was honestly for the best—you had no interest in dealing with that clown. That was… until he started blowing up your phone with messages. He needed to talk. He missed you. He shouldn’t have acted like that. He needed your help…

You blocked his number. Problem solved. Or so you thought.

You were quietly studying in the campus library, buried in your notes, when suddenly… he sat down right next to you.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his backpack on the floor.

You shot him a side-eye and said nothing

“Doing okay? Am I bothering you?” he asked, trying to spark a conversation.

“Yes,” you replied bluntly, eyes still on your notes.

“Y/n, listen, I know I messed up, and I’m really sorry—”

“Shh.” You silenced him without looking up.

“I’m not leaving until you say something to me.”

You started gathering your stuff to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently.

“No, no—please, stay.”

You left anyway. He followed you outside.

“Back off or I’m calling the cops,” you warned.

“Just hear me out once, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“No.”

You walked away; he kept up behind you.

“Remember that favor I owe you?”

You stopped in your tracks. You had completely forgotten about that. You faced him, finally giving him your attention.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly. What really interested you was what he had to offer.

“She dumped me,” he said, embarrassed. “I should’ve ended things properly with you first. I rushed into it.”

“What do you want?” you cut him off. You didn’t need a sob story. There was nothing between you two—it had just been an arrangement. “Spit it out.”

“I… I need your help to make her jealous.”

You laughed, sarcastic.

“Why don’t you go find the last bit of dignity you have left and hold onto it? This is pathetic.”

He said nothing, clearly out of words.

“And by the way, you owe me a favor.”

“I know, but this time I’ll owe you the double, anything you want, right after.”

You stepped in closer.

“Anything I want? Don’t your parents have connections? Someone who could help me get an internship?”

“They do. I can get that for you. Easy.”

“Abroad? All expenses paid?”

He nodded. You paused, thinking about the advantages that he could offer. The decision was pretty easy, and Luigi wasn’t that bad.

“Alright then. What do I have to do?”

“There’s a wedding. Her dad’s getting remarried this month, and since our families are close, my whole family’s invited. I want you to come with me.”

You paused, again. Weigh up the pros and cons.

“Alright. When is it? I’ll clear my schedule.”

“It’s… in the Fijis.”

“…What? You’re that rich?”

That uncomfortable look crossed his face again.

“So you’ll need to be free for about ten days.”

You nodded slowly.

“Fine. Free vacation? I’m in.”

•••

You’ve just arrived in Fiji, and it’s absolutely stunning — especially since the groom went all out and booked an entire hotel for his guests.

“Do you like it?” Luigi asks.

“Like it? This place is heaven.”

The two of you head to your hotel room — it’s massive, which, given the circumstances, doesn’t shock you in the slightest.

“I’ll take the couch,” Luigi offers, then adds with a sly smile, “Unless… you’d prefer some company?”

You give him a deadpan look, tossing your bag onto the bed.

“In your dreams, Mangione.”

Luigi laughs softly, hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I’ve got some flashbacks.”

You kick off your shoes and sink into the bed with a satisfied sigh. The mattress feels like a cloud, and for a second, you forget why you're even here.

“Okay, this might actually be worth it,” you mumble, staring up at the intricately designed ceiling fan spinning slowly above you.

Luigi opens the balcony doors, letting the warm island breeze flow in. “We have a couple hours before the welcome dinner. You wanna go check out the beach?”

You sit up, eyebrows raised. “Together?”

“Of course. Business on the beach. Very professional.”

He flashes you a grin, and you try — really try — not to smile back.

The two of you step out into the golden sunlight, the ocean just a short walk away. The resort is picturesque, all white stone paths, swaying palm trees, and the faint sound of a ukulele playing somewhere in the distance.

“So,” Luigi says as you walk side by side, “how do we want to play this? Holding hands? Subtle glances? The occasional flirty insult?”

You glance at him sideways. “Let’s just… play it natural. Like we’re not trying too hard.”

He chuckles. “Natural, huh? That’s gonna be tough, considering your loathing for me.”

You smirk. “Oh, I don’t loathe you, Luigi. That would require caring.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, so natural,” he says. “That means what? We don’t make out in front of her, but we do look like we can’t keep our hands off each other?”

You roll your eyes. “It means I don’t throw you into the ocean the second we arrive at the dinner.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Noted. Low bar.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve already done that.” You reassure him even if you don’t even know how you’re going to do it.

The walk on the beach had been... surprisingly chill. But then you got back to the hotel. You were climbing the marble steps to your floor, still barefoot with your sandals in hand, when the elevator doors dinged behind you.

“Luigi?”

You froze mid-step. That voice. You turned just in time to see her. Luigi’s ex—step out of the elevator in a white sundress and sunburned shoulders, her hand laced with that of a tall, annoyingly handsome guy in linen. Luigi stiffened beside you.

“Oh,” she said, eyes flitting to you. “Didn’t know you were bringing… someone.” She recognized you immediately.

You gave her a small smile. “Hi !.”

Luigi choked on air. Her smile tightened.

“This is Jon,” she said, turning slightly to the new guy, who just gave a lazy nod.

“And this is my new girlfriend—“ announce Luigi, a smug smile on his face.

“I already know her” she cut him off, slightly irritated.

“Cool,” you said. “So we’re all on the same floor, huh?”

“We are, actually,” she said, walking a little closer. “We’re in room 308.”

You and Luigi exchanged a look. “307,” he said slowly. “What a coincidence!”

For a second, no one said anything. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog.

Then Jon chuckled. “Guess we’ll be hearing each other through the walls.”

You smirked. “Guess you will.”

Luigi’s hand brushed yours lightly, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. His ex noticed. Her gaze darted to your hand, then back to your face. “Well. Hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Oh, we will,” you said sweetly.

You put your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder, never taking your eyes off her. They walked past you to their room, the door clicking shut behind them.

Luigi exhaled hard. “She looked… surprised.”

“She looked pissed.”

You unlocked the hotel door and stepped inside. He followed close behind.

Luigi gave a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “You were actually amazing. Like, scary amazing.”

You flopped onto the bed with a grin. “Well, buckle up, Mangione. You hired the best.”

It was dinnertime, and the guest list was enormous — a sea of well-dressed, wealthy faces filled the room. You had chosen a light blue dress for the occasion, tucking a hibiscus flower into your hair for a touch of softness and charm. You recognized nearly everyone from Luigi’s family, all except his sisters — they were the only ones you hadn't met before.

“Y/n! It’s been so long since we last saw you!” Luigi’s mother exclaimed warmly, pulling you into a hug, while Luigi moved ahead to greet his father and two sisters.

You offered polite smiles and greetings, introducing yourself to his sisters for the first time.

“Our parents have told us so much about you, Y/n,” one of them said with a friendly tone.

You smiled, but inside, you were a little surprised. How had Luigi managed to keep you a mystery to them for this long?

You slipped into the flow of dinner like it was second nature—smiling when you needed to, making charming small talk with his aunts, nodding like you totally understood the family politics being whispered across the table. It was almost easy to forget the entire reason you were there was to stage a fake relationship. Almost. Luigi, to his credit, was playing his part beautifully. He refilled your glass without being asked, leaned in like he couldn’t hear you over the music, touched your lower back when guiding you through the crowd. A little overkill, maybe—but effective. You caught his ex looking over more than once. At one point, her jaw clenched so tightly you thought she might crack a tooth. You were deep in conversation with Luigi’s sisters— Maria and Luciana—navigating that delicate line between casual and calculated. They were actually pretty funny, sharp-tongued with the same dramatic flair as their brother, though significantly less annoying. But then Maria’s gaze drifted past your shoulder, her smile dimming just slightly. “Huh.”

Luciana leaned in. “Y/n… are you the jealous type?”

You raised a brow, sipping your drink. “Not really. Why?”

They didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, Maria nodded toward the far end of the terrace. You turned, and there he was. Luigi. Standing just a little too close to his ex. Hands in his pockets, that tilted smirk of his playing on his face. She was twirling a piece of her hair, laughing a little too hard at something he said. Your stomach didn’t twist, but it… shifted. Just a bit.

Still, you kept your voice cool. “Looks like they’re having fun.”

Maria hesitated. “You don’t find that weird? Him going to talk to her like that?”

You shrugged. “Mmh not really, I trust him.”

Luciana exchanged a look with her sister, then turned to you with something cautious in her eyes. “You know he’s been in love with her since he was, like, ten, right?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Maria added quickly, as if ripping off a Band-Aid. “Total childhood crush turned high school obsession. It was kind of a thing in the family.”

“Not that we don’t like you!” Luciana rushed to say. “You’re actually super cool. Honestly, we’ve never seen him bring someone like you around.”

You held up a hand. “It’s fine.”

You glanced over again, just in time to see the ex laughing at something Luigi said, her fingers lightly brushing his arm. He wasn’t pulling away.

•••

The next morning, the group gathered on the beach for surf lessons—part of the long, sun-drenched itinerary planned by the ever-generous groom. The sky was spotless, the ocean glittered like polished glass, and everyone looked annoyingly good in their swimsuits. Luigi, of course, was already waist-deep in distraction, his ex.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention to the surf instructor—tall, sun-kissed, and charming in that easy, wave-tamer way. His name was Kai. Of course it was. He flashed a blinding smile as he handed you your board.

“First time surfing?” he asked, helping you adjust the strap on your ankle.

“Yeah,” you said, cocking your head. “Think I’ll survive?”

He grinned. “Only if you listen to everything I say.”

You gave him a slow, amused once-over. “I usually don’t, but I might make an exception.”

Kai laughed, the sound deep and warm like he hadn’t been hit on by every girl on the island this week. Across the sand, Luigi looked over—just in time to see Kai guiding your hands on the board, showing you your stance, your posture. You were laughing, hair blowing wildly in the breeze. And for a second, Luigi forgot what his ex was even talking about. You glanced up, catching his eyes.

The group paddled out into the water, boards cutting clean lines through the surf. The instructor, Kai, was right beside you, guiding your movements with patient confidence. You weren’t a natural by any means, but you were having fun—and more importantly, you looked like you were.

Luigi was a few feet away, trying—really trying—to focus on riding the waves. But every time he glanced over, there you were: laughing as Kai helped you balance, brushing your wet hair out of your face, flashing that magnetic smile that had never been aimed at him quite like that. He couldn’t look away. Which was exactly the problem. A decent wave approached, and Luigi, ever the competitor, tried to catch it—too distracted, too out of sync with the rhythm. His board angled wrong. His balance off. The wave caught him, but not cleanly. He managed to stand for half a second before his foot slipped and the board kicked sideways. The impact was quick and unforgiving—he crashed into the water hard, shoulder first. You didn’t see it happen—Kai was helping you try to stand, guiding your stance again—but the commotion in the water drew your attention.

“Wait—was that Luigi?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sun.

Kai turned, already paddling toward the figure flailing awkwardly near the break.

You followed, heart suddenly pounding.

By the time you reached him, Luigi was grimacing, holding his arm and bobbing awkwardly in the water.

“What happened?” you asked, grabbing the edge of his board.

“I fell,” he muttered, clearly in pain, pride more bruised than bone—for now.

“Can you move your arm?”

“Barely.”

Kai paddled over and helped steady him. “Alright, let’s get you back to shore.”

You stayed close, watching as Kai assisted him, pulling him back through the water. Luigi looked properly miserable. Salt and ego stung his eyes.

Once you hit the beach, Kai helped him sit on a towel while someone fetched ice from the resort.

“You okay?” you asked, kneeling beside him.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“You don’t look fine. You look like someone who got humbled by the ocean.”

He shot you a look. “Not helping.”

You grinned. “Sorry. You’ll live.”

But something in your voice was softer. You were still watching him carefully, despite everything.

Kai came back with a first aid kit and crouched beside Luigi, inspecting the shoulder.

“Looks like a bad bruise, maybe a strain. You should rest it. No more surfing today.”

Luigi winced. “Yeah. Got it.”

Kai turned to you. “You still wanna try a few more waves?”

You glanced at Luigi, then back at the instructor. “Rain check.”

You sat down next to Luigi instead, the two of you quiet for a beat. The sun baked down, warm on your skin, but the tension between you had cooled just a little.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he said after a moment.

You shrugged. “Yeah, well. I figured someone should be here to make fun of you while you sulk.”

He laughed, despite himself. “You’re seriously enjoying this, huh?”

You smiled faintly, brushing a bit of sand off your knee. “Not gonna lie. A little.”

But what you didn’t say was: seeing him fall—even for a second—rattled you. Not because you cared.

No.

Definitely not because you cared.

“I’m gonna get you some water” you stepped away.

“Okay”

You were gone five minutes—maybe less. When you returned, she was there. Kneeling next to Luigi, her perfectly tousled beach hair falling over one shoulder, sunglasses perched on top of her head like a crown. Her voice was low, intimate. And his expression—tired, maybe caught off guard. You stopped a few feet away, just out of their line of sight.

“I just wanted to check on you,” she was saying. “You’re always so reckless when you’re trying to impress people.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.”

She smiled softly. “It’s okay if you were. You’ve always done stupid things when you like someone.”

Luigi said nothing, just looked out at the waves.

“I was worried, you know?” she added, brushing a speck of sand off his good arm. “Even after everything… I still care.”

That’s when you stepped back into view, towel slung over your shoulder and two water bottles in hand.

“Aw,” you said flatly, handing Luigi a bottle. “That’s sweet.”

She straightened up slowly, all wide eyes and innocent posture. “I was just checking in.”

You nodded. “Cool. Now you can check out.”

Her mouth twitched—almost a smile. Almost not. “Take care, Lu,” she said softly, then turned and walked away without waiting for a response.

Luigi didn’t say anything. You dropped beside him in the sand and tossed the towel over his legs.

“She’s good,” you muttered.

He looked at you sideways. “At what?”

“Pretending she’s over it.”

He gave a quiet laugh, leaning back on his sane elbows. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

You turned your head slowly toward him. “You’re lucky you’ve got only one arm”

He smiled, but… whatever.

“So… you and the surf instructor ?”

You raised a brow.

He hesitated, jaw tightening just a bit. “Looked like you were getting pretty friendly… I’m just saying… it didn’t look fake, if that’s what you’re going for.”

You finally turned to face him, eyes playful. “Jealous?”

“No,” he said too fast.

You leaned in slightly, resting your chin on your hand. “Right. So you don’t care that I was flirting with a shirtless guy who had his hands all over my waist.”

He glanced away, exasperated. “Okay, yes, maybe I care a little.”

There it was.

You grinned. “Interesting.”

Luigi looked back at you, irritation giving way to something more uncertain. “I mean, it’s not part of the plan, right? You flirting with random guys while pretending to be my girlfriend?”

You tilted your head, lips curving into a half-smirk. “I didn’t realize there were rules.”

“There are,” Luigi muttered, “when you’re making me look like an idiot.”

You blinked at him, incredulous. “Are you serious right now? I only let it happen because no one important was around.”

“My ex was there,” he snapped, frustration bubbling under the surface. “She could’ve told my parents. It looked—disrespectful.”

You crossed your arms, not backing down. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before dragging me into your little performance in front of your entire family.”

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, jaw clenched.

“Right,” you said, voice flat. “That’s what I thought. I can’t believe I have to give some explanation for a fake relationship, that’s ridiculous.”

You gathered your things and walked off without looking back, leaving him alone on the sand. God, he could be so infuriating. Always had to have the last word. And of course, he didn’t miss the chance to throw in that reminder—how much you used to hate him. Good. Maybe that would make it easier when all this ended. No heartbreak. No confusion. Just a clean break. You sank into a chair near the beach bar, dropping your bag at your feet, exhaling hard. The sun was dipping low now, painting everything in gold, and you were too tired to pretend not to care. A gentle hand touched your shoulder.

“Y/n? What’s wrong, darling? You look upset.”

It was his mother—of course. And right behind her, his father. Great timing.

You forced a smile. “We just… had a bit of a fight. Luigi’s not always the easiest.”

“I see,” she said with a sympathetic frown. “Would you like us to talk to him?”

“No, it’s okay. He actually hurt his arm earlier. Maybe just check on him? I think he need to see someone now.” You stood, brushing the sand off your dress. “I’m gonna head to my room. But thank you, really.”

They nodded, concern etched across both their faces as they turned and headed toward Luigi, still sitting by himself on his towel, looking at the sea.

••• A few hours later

A knock echoed through the room, tugging you out of your half-asleep haze. You blinked, glanced toward the balcony. The sky was navy now—stars barely peeking through. Another knock. You rolled out of bed and walked barefoot to the door, peeking through the peephole. Luigi. He didn’t have the keycard. Figures.

“Y/n?” His voice was muffled but unmistakable. “Can you open the door?”

A smile curved on your lips. You leaned against the door, arms crossed.

“I’m actually enjoying the peace,” you replied, just loud enough to tease.

A pause. Then, “Come on. I’m sorry about earlier.”

You stayed quiet for a beat. “Not my problem.”

“Y/n…” He sounded tired. Maybe a little guilty. Maybe even honest.

You tilted your head, cheek still against the door.

“What exactly are you sorry for, Luigi?”

Another pause.

“For being an idiot. For snapping at you. For ruining a perfectly good fake vacation.”

You bit back a smile. A long silence stretched between you.

You paused, thinking.

You finally opened the door. Empty hallway. No Luigi. You frowned, stepping out, scanning both directions. Nothing but dim corridor lights and the muffled hush of the ocean through open windows. Then—you heard it. Clack. The soft click of a door shutting just a few steps down. Room 308. His ex’s room. Your stomach dropped. A beat of silence passed before you let out a dry laugh, barely audible. Of course. You took a step back into the room, closing the door quietly behind you. You shouldn’t care. This was fake, and you were here for the internship, the beach, the free food—not for him. Still, something sat sharp in your chest. You flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above you. He really went to her room… After that conversation. After knocking on your door, saying he was sorry, asking to come in. He left—and went to her. You hated how much it bothered you. You didn’t even notice when you dozed off again.

•••

Meanwhile, Luigi stepped into the elevator, grocery bag in one arm, the sling awkwardly digging into his shoulder.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself.

He hadn’t expected to get caught in the hallway, let alone bump into her. His ex had appeared out of nowhere when he left your door to go grab snacks and water.

“Luigi?” she’d said, a little surprised, arms crossed loosely over her chest. “You’re just out here?”

“Yeah. Just heading down for a bit,” he’d replied casually, already moving.

“You sure you don’t want to come in? We could… talk,” she’d offered, eyes softening.

He didn’t even stop walking.

“Maybe another time.”

And then he was gone. Now, juggling a bag of overpriced resort groceries, he was making his way back upstairs—unaware that you had opened the door just after he disappeared… and drawn all the wrong conclusions.

Another knock on the door.

You sighed dramatically and dragged yourself off the bed. You opened the door—and there he was. Luigi. Holding a crumpled paper bag with a bottle of sparkling water sticking out the top, a couple snacks tucked under his arm, and the most confused look on his face.

“Where were you?” you asked, arms crossing before you could stop yourself.

He blinked. “What do you mean? I was getting stuff for you. You didn’t eat dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I heard a door close. From her room.”

He stared at you for a second… and then a slow, smug grin started to spread across his face.

“You disappeared, and then mysteriously, your ex’s door closed. What was I supposed to think?”

“That I ran away in emotional shame? That I couldn’t face your sass and needed to sob into her throw pillows?”

“You would sob into decorative pillows,” you muttered.

“Excuse you—” he lifted the bag slightly. “I risked my life for these chips. My arm still hurts.

You tried not to smile, but it was useless. “You really went to get me snacks?”

“I did,” he said, stepping into the room.

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door behind him. “Well. I guess you’re not completely useless.”

Luigi set the bag down on the bed dramatically. “I’m sorry, again. For all this. »

“Okay… You can start by opening the chips.”

He nodded and flopped onto the bed beside you, careful not to jostle his injury.

“I can’t believe you thought I went into her room,” he said between bites.

“I didn’t think that.”

“You totally did.”

“Shut up and give me the chips.”

He handed them over, still smirking. You both leaned back against the headboard, sharing snacks in comfortable silence.

• Night Under the Stars •

Luigi is far ahead of you, his long strides making quick work of the rocky path. The sun is still high, but the light has already started to soften, painting the trail in shades of gold and orange. You trail behind, breathless but stubborn, refusing to ask for a break. He’s determined to reach the top before sunset — and, honestly, you're starting to understand why. You’re the only one who agreed to come with him. The others either passed on the idea of waking up at dawn or scoffed at the thought of hiking for hours. But when he looked at you that morning, eyes gleaming with that quiet challenge, you couldn’t resist.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Luigi turns around at the top of the hill and grins, breathless. “Hurry up,” he calls out. “You're gonna miss the view.”

You roll your eyes but pick up your pace, your legs aching by the time you reach him. The sun is sinking just beyond the ocean, spilling vibrant streaks of orange, pink, and lavender across the sky. Below, the island is bathed in warm light, with the soft sound of waves in the distance. You both fall silent, soaking it in. The wind picks up as night deepens, brushing against your skin with a sharpness that wasn't there during the sunset. You're both sitting just outside the tent now, wrapped in the silence and starlight, watching the embers of a small campfire crackle low beside you. Luigi sets up the tent and lights the campfire, throwing glances your way every few seconds, like he’s making sure you’re okay.

“You cold?” he asks, concerned.

You nod, and without a word, he digs into his backpack and hands you one of his sweaters.

“It’ll be warmer once we’re inside the tent, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” you reassure him. “I’m with the hiking expert, I’m letting you handle everything.”

He gives you that charming smile you hate finding cute.

You both eat quickly and retreat into the tent. It’s not long before he presses up behind you without warning, wrapping his arms around you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Warming you up. We’re warming each other up,” he murmurs.

“But I didn’t ask for anything,” you point out.

“Why are you always on guard?”

“I don’t know… maybe because all of this is fake? Stupid question.”

“Yeah, but right now it’s just practical. Nothing more.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t mind if—” you turn to face him. Your faces are inches apart, and his arms are still wrapped tightly around your waist. “—if I face you?”

He studies you closely, and that annoyingly perfect smile of his reappears. The one you secretly love to hate.

“That’s even better,” he murmured.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then slowly rose to meet your eyes again. And in that moment — without warning — your heart started to race. You hated it. Hated how he still had that effect on you. You’d sworn you wouldn’t feel anything for him again. You wondered if he felt it too. If his chest tightened like yours just did. But you already knew the answer — of course not. His heart still belonged to her. He leaned in. And somehow, you were already leaning too, closing the space between you until your lips met his. Both your eyes fluttered shut, and everything else disappeared. His hand slid into your hair, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, slow and searching — like you were both trying to remember something you’d almost forgotten. You didn’t stop until you were breathless, your chest rising and falling as you pulled apart. When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you.

“To keep warm, right?” you whispered, teasing, your lips still tingling.

“Yeah,” he said softly — and kissed you again.

This time, it was more urgent. His hands roamed your body with an aching familiarity, and each touch left a trail of heat in its wake. Without thinking, you climbed into his lap, your knees on either side of him, your mouths never parting. You felt his hands glide down your back, gripping your waist, your hips. You buried your fingers in his curls, holding on.

“Missed me, huh?” he said against your lips, that familiar arrogance in his voice.

You pause, lips brushing his as you hover just inches above him, your breath still uneven. You watch his eyes—dark, searching, amused. He’s waiting.

“If that helps soothe your little ego…” you reply sarcastically.

Amused by your response, he gives you a little spanking. You stroke his crotch, making your intention clear. You pull his dick out of his shorts and boxers. You can already hear him grunting, his lips tickling your neck.

"You're so good," he says, pulling off your shorts as you take off your shoes. He caresses your clit, you rock back and forth against him, the feeling is too good.

"Luigi" you sigh, the pleasure overwhelms you.

Your hands still on his growth, you meet his gaze and waste no time. He bury himself into you, you can feel him in you and how good it feels. Luigi moans, you start to move on him, imposing your own rhythm.

"Yes baby, you're so good" his encouragement excites you even more.

"Keep bouncing, so good," he continues.

His hands moving all over your body. You feel he's about to let go and so are you.

"Keep bouncing... yeah... keep bouncing baby" Luigi's impressive hands are on your hips, helping you to keep the rhythm.

The tension builds between you, electric and overwhelming — both of you teetering on the edge. Luigi’s eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, your breaths ragged and uneven.

"Can I cum?" he begs, voice raw, his body slick with sweat, lips parted.

"Yes," you breathe, barely able to speak through the waves crashing over you.

Your climax hits, a soft moan escaping near his ear as your body trembles against his. He follows instantly, groaning your name as he lets go. For a moment, time slows. You melt into each other, limbs tangled, hearts pounding in sync. The only sound is your shared breathing, slowly beginning to calm. You shift slightly, your body sensitive, but Luigi’s arms tighten around you, reluctant to release his hold. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, as if trying to stay in this moment just a little longer.

“Mmh… you made a mess,” you murmur with a teasing smile, glancing down between you.

He smirks, kissing your shoulder. “Couldn’t help it. You feel too good.”

Softly, shifting your hips as you feel the sticky cream between you both — warm, undeniable evidence of your shared release. He groans lightly at the movement, pulling you closer again.

You get dressed and slip into the sleeping bag. Luigi waits until you’re comfortable, then wraps his arms around you. The two of you stay curled up together through the night, wrapped in each other’s warmth. At dawn, you wake to the soft glow of the sunrise, quietly taking in the beauty of the moment side by side. Eventually, you gather your things and make your way back to the hotel. Once inside your room, you stretch a little, still feeling the chill of the early morning.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you say, heading toward the bathroom.

“Make yourself gorgeous—it’s the rehearsal dinner tonight,” Luigi teases with a playful smile.

You roll your eyes with a sigh. “What’s even the point of that?” you mutter as you disappear into the bathroom.

Luigi just chuckles, waving you on before turning to unpack and tidy up the room.

•••

The rehearsal dinner is held in a charming little venue overlooking the sea. Strings of warm lights hang above the outdoor tables, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. You arrive looking stunning, your dress hugging your curves in all the right places. Luigi's eyes linger on you for a long moment, his lips parting slightly as if to say something—but he doesn't. Instead, his expression shifts, guarded.

As the night unfolds, you lose sight of him in the crowd. You scan the terrace, then spot him near the bar… with her. She’s standing a little too close, her hand brushing his arm casually. She leans in to whisper something in his ear. You can’t hear the words, but you see the look on her face: smug, knowing.

"I know what you're doing, Luigi," she murmurs, her eyes flicking to his with a slight smirk. "Dragging your little girlfriend around, pretending you’ve moved on. You’re just trying to make me jealous.”

Luigi stiffens. "That’s not what this is," he mutters.

But you’re watching. And in that moment, it doesn't matter what he says. It only matters that he's there with her. Something sharp twists in your chest.

You can’t help it—you keep looking over, watching them. Watching her. Your stomach twists every time they laugh or stand too close. But the worst part is when they both disappear, slipping away into the shadows, just the two of them.

And you can’t even be mad. This was the plan. You knew the risks.

People keep approaching you, asking, “Where’s Luigi?” You give polite smiles, vague answers. Thank God his family is there, filling the silence, trying to lift your spirits. But the night wears on, and it feels emptier with every passing minute.

You're with Luigi's family when the music starts playing. Laughter erupts as everyone rushes to the dance floor, caught up in the energy of the moment. You stay behind, leaning against the bar, watching them all having fun. Smiling faces. Joy everywhere. Except where you stand — alone. A man approaches. You notice the way he walks: too confident, too loose. Clearly drunk. He leans in closer than you'd like.

“Wanna dance?” he asks, his tone already too familiar.

“No, thanks. I’m with someone,” you answer firmly.

“Oh, Luigi? Where is he then?” the man smirks. “Come on, he’ll never know. Can’t believe he’d leave a girl like you standing here alone.”

You stiffen. “I said no.”

He tries again, this time placing his hand on your hip. Without thinking, your hand flies up and smacks him hard across the face. The sound echoes. But before he can even react, he's suddenly on the floor — shoved violently by someone. You blink. It’s Luigi.

“Get the fuck out of here, asshole!” Luigi shouts, standing over him, fists clenched and jaw tight.

The man stares at him for half a second, sees the fury in Luigi’s eyes, and scrambles away without a word. Luigi immediately turns to you. His chest is rising fast, like he’s still coming down from the adrenaline. Everyone is looking at you. His family

“Are you okay? Jesus, I nearly lost it when I saw that. Did he touch you? Fuck—he touched you. I should’ve been here. I should’ve—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, voice calm but shaking just slightly. “I had it handled.”

“I’m taking him off the guest list. He’s done.”

“Luigi!” a familiar voice calls. His ex hurries over, her heels clicking against the floor. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Some drunk asshole tried something with Y/n,” he mutters.

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “I’ll tell my dad. He won’t get away with it.”

Luigi turns back to you. “Come on. Let’s go. You've had enough of this night.”

“I’m fine,” you say again, colder this time. “Stay with her. I’ll go back alone.”

“No way. I’m not letting you walk back alone.”

He reaches for your wrist and walk to your room, when you’re finally inside you pull away sharply.

He looks stunned. “What’s the attitude?”

“Because I don’t understand you!” Your voice breaks, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds.

He takes a step back, confused. “What did I do? I’m trying to understand, Y/n.”

“ You fuck me then you go back to her. Then you fuck me and you go back to her again like nothing happened… what’s wrong with you ? I’m not your little toy.”

He flinches, his voice rising. “I thought we had an agreement! I thought we were casual, that this wasn’t serious!”

“But you slept with me, Luigi and it was for real”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, visibly conflicted.

“I thought you didn’t care…” he admits, his voice quiet and vulnerable. “That first night we spent together… it was everything to me. But the way you looked at me, like you hated me — and all those arguments we kept having… I thought none of it mattered to you.”

“Do you really think I would’ve done all that if I didn’t care?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly. “But it doesn’t matter now… this is all going to end soon, and we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Why?” He steps closer. “You want this ? See ? This is what I mean. Can you just tell me, for once, what you really feel?”

You go silent, torn. You want to tell him everything, but something holds you back.

“I’m not good at saying how I feel…” you finally admit, hoping he’ll meet you halfway.

He takes a step closer, again. “So you do feel something for me?” There’s a flicker of hope in his eyes.

“Stop being an idiot… believe whatever you want,” you mutter, crossing your arms and looking away.

“You’re really gonna leave me guessing until the end, huh?” He chuckled.

You don’t answer. Letting him sit in the silence. Then he takes a breath, gathers his courage, and kisses you. You don’t stop him. The moment his lips meet yours, all the anger, all the frustration, melts away. Like magic. He pulls back, that familiar smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“I think I’ve got my answer,” he says softly.

💭Next part

[wisteriaiswriting]

Civilian S/O Saved From Their Double

Words: 905

Request: can I request Gekko, Harbor, ISO, Sova and Yoru with a civilian s/o and their mirror is trying to get to them /kidnap them.

He isn’t too bad when he finds out the Protocol’s mirrors are trying to take civilians, but when the list of civilians is placed infront of them, he panics. Your name was one of the top few, seemingly specifically seeked out by his double.

Many of the other agents tried to convince him to stay behind, let some of the more… level-headed agents handle this mission. But in the end he’s sent out on one condition, he has to focus on the mission, you’re just another civilian at this point.

If he wasn’t sent on the mission or just beforehand, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything really. Shutting himself in his room with his little buddies while constantly going over the mission brief, hoping that it wasn’t you on the sheet, maybe it was misspelled, someone else or it wasn’t his double going after you.

On the mission he really tries to act normal, but knowing that you’re at risk, a much higher one due to your connection. He’s rushing through the mission trying to find you, which ends up with Dizzy finding you alongside his double, who you were actively fighting off.

While he is a valorant agent he is also a loving partner to you, and seeing you put in such danger has him kinda shutting down for a bit. So Reyna and his friends have to fight to get him time off, sending him off immediately to spend some much needed time with you.

While he has learnt to keep his emotions under control and hidden, but will be internally panicking.

He’s barely thinking straight at this point and is trying to get sent on the mission, but at this point the others are aware of the situation. Ultimately keeping him off the mission and kept at base.

His mind and body won’t let him just sit around, waiting for any kind of information to be relied back to him. Causing him to go bother Cypher, or rather try, as the man gives him the least amount of information while keeping him occupied. (Cypher isn’t cruel to him though, keeps him updated on your condition.)

If he was sent on the mission, he is rushing over to you as soon as he’s informed of your location. Not letting you out of his sight and reach until you reach the VLT/R

Immediately takes time off to spend it with you, likely staying at your place. He will stay in touch with Cypher or another agent to watch over the pair of you, to keep you safe.

Over the years he’s learned how to hide his reactions, but is 100% internally and silently panicking. Trying to figure out how his double managed to get this close to you.

Really wants to go out on his own to get you himself, but he can be easily calmed down not to do anything rash at that point.

Will spend almost all of his time in the range, constantly playing the playlist made and shared between the two of you. This causes him to interact with the others agents less than normal.

He makes sure to focus on the actual mission but cant stop himself from sticking closer to you until the mission and everything is done.

Pulls you aside to quietly check on you, no matter what happened and how you feel he won't let you go home alone. Convinces the others to bring you back with him, to stay for a while at least.

Has learnt to not reveal his thoughts through his face, not letting the other’s make out what he’s thinking. But he is mentally panicking and worrying about your safety.

As much as he want’s to go out by himself, he knows better. Will listen and let the other’s make a plan but makes sure he gets to go.

If he isn’t able to go for whatever reason, he tries to find ways to distract himself from thinking about your safety. (Fails at most points.)

When he does go, he manages to hold himself together and focus on the mission’s general point. Will get all the civilans out before checking on you after to make sure you’re okay.

Right after the mission, he’ll lose track of time while doting over you like his babushka does over himself, with the others letting him have this.

This dude is absolutely panicking, immediately tries to leave as soon as he learns of the news to try get you back himself.

Really doesn’t want to let anyone else go with him as he doesn’t want to risk being seen vulnerable for you. But in the end he becomes just rational enough to ‘let’ a small team come along.

It takes multiple agents to hold him back, as not many (Really it’s none of them) trust his guidance and thoughts at this point. Also not trusting him to not jeopardize the mission for something. (They don’t know what has him so worked up.)

He clears the area, double checking to make sure it’s 100% safe before taking you and leaving. He is so emotionally constipated but is trying his best while internally panicking.

Does everything in his power to try convince Brimstone to let you stay on base. (Uses his double’s abilities to convince him.) And dis barely able to, so whenever they need Yoru they could just find him in or around your room.

[planetpiastri]

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!reader [no faceclaim, reader is faceless] summary: when alex's childhood friend makes an appearance on his instagram, logan is instantly smitten, but the universe insists on keeping them only as a missed connection, and alex isn't helping matters. notes: the long awaited part three! i'm currently giving all my fics a facelift, but the guilt about this update has been eating away at me, so here you guys go<3 i've decided to stop living in denial and just admit this is a full series now so here comes the (brief) angst era! [series masterlist]

liked by lilymhe, georgerussell63, and 154,329 others

alex_albon winter break, you were fun 🫡 see you next year!

view all 2,876 comments

username1 try not to say parents challenge level impossible (failed)

lilymhe he stole that car

alex_albon you promised you wouldn't tell anyone!!

username2 looking good albono! excited to see you scoring points soon!

williamsracing Nice hat! :D

username3 guys can i confess something.... i miss yn :(

username4 you guys say this under all of his posts. obviously something happened and they don't post each other anymore for a reason, respect their space and stop bringing this up.

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, and 71,823 others

williamsracing the boys are back and so are we 👀

view all 3,012 comments

username5 RRRAAHHH I SMELL DOUBLE POINTS

username6 the new suits are AWESOME, the boys are gonna kill it this season!!!!!

alex_albon who approved that corny ass caption

logansargeant Me alex_albon i'm gonna steal your tires

username7 even if yn has vanished off the face of the earth at least we can thank her for bringing the williams boys closer together so that we get to see them goofing off in the comments 😔

username8 yeah but it's all for show like they don't hang out off track anymore... landonorris oh are we just saying things in the comments? i wanna join!! george sleeps with a teddy bear georgerussell63 Don't drag me into this wtf alex_albon it's true, he does

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 71,013 others

logansargeant Some bits and bobs from the break

view all 2,789 comments

username9 what kind of whack british caption is that

username10 maybe the rumors about him and alex not hanging out were wrong, maybe they're hanging out TOO MUCH actually...

alex_albon i have taught you well, young padawan

username11 omg logan and oscar content we're soooo back

williamsracing Looking energized, Sarge!

username12 the fact that we never got a hard launch for logan and yn so we'll never know if they actually got together is my roman empire

username13 no fr!! they were flirting and bantering all over the place and then suddenly BOOM! she just disappears like wtf happenedddd username14 you guys talking abt a possible situationship not happening vs twenty years of friendship between alex and yn that's gone... have some priorities username15 hi just popping in to say you guys are weird af for speculating like this under his winter break dump 💀 move tf on

logansargeant

liked by georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 68,578 others

logansargeant Quick trip back over the pond before locking in 👊 bring it on season ✌️

view all 2,549 comments

username16 wait did we miss a step

alex_albon that does not look like sim work

logansargeant Are you my dad or something? Get a life alex_albon DAMN

username17 um? um?? the last picture??? um??????

georgerussell63 What

logansargeant Who? georgerussell63 ?? logansargeant Asked

username18 please be a soft launch with that girl from the afterparty please please please please please

oscarpiastri Interesting.

username19 OSCAR WHAT DO YOU KNOW

williamsracing

liked by ynusername, logansargeant, and 78,321 others

williamsracing Good times in Bahrain! See you next year, Sakhir 😉

view all 3,253 comments

username20 WHAT was that strategy guys

alex_albon "good times" literally where that was nothing but pain

williamsracing ☹️👉👈 we're sowwy awex alex_albon ew wtf don't say that to me

username21 guys? yn liked? she's alive?

username22 JUSTICE FOR LOGAN'S STEERING WHEEL

tagging: @sticksdoesart @hiireadstuff @minkyungseokie @thatoneembarrasingmoment @croissantbakerylws @dear-fifi @imjustme-n @kn1n3 @captainfrisbee @ssrcsm @rhythmstars @urfavnoirette

if you want to be tagged in future parts, fill out this form

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.7 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.  masterlist

a.n — double update WOOOOOOO okay now this is a double update because this chapter is essentially filler…. um i write too much ab them being all lovey dovey and nasty freaky but i wanna get the plot MOVINGGGG which means dealing with the adriana stuff so im gonna roll out the chapters a tad bit faster because i realise i wrote too much filler whoops.

sixteen

tuesday, february 18th

“can’t say i didn’t see that coming. she’s always been a bit clumsy,” you said with a smirk, passing the towel over a wet plate your dad handed you. you sat cross-legged on the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chuckled, scrubbing a mug.

“remember when she tore her hamstring doing yoga?” your dad snorted at the memory, and you hummed, grinning.

“how did she even call mom so casually after that? i feel like that would hurt too much to move.”

your dad shook his head, a knowing look on his face. “i stopped trying to figure your mom’s side of the family out a long time ago.” his words made you laugh, the sound light and genuine, just as the doorbell rang.

before you could hop off the counter, your sister bolted from the living room, practically sprinting to the door. you opened your mouth to tell her off, but your dad waved a hand, stopping you. “it’s alright. it’s probably rafe.” he handed you another wet mug with an amused shake of his head.

sure enough, twenty seconds later, rafe strolled into the kitchen with your sister clinging to his back like a monkey. her face was lit with pure joy, her giggles echoing in the space.

“uh, rafe?” you said, raising an eyebrow as you dried the mug. “you’ve got something stuck on your back.”

he turned his head, feigning surprise as if he’d just noticed her. “oh, this?” he asked with a playful grin. “we’re a package deal now.”

“yup!” your sister chimed, tightening her grip. “i’m never getting off his back!”

you smirked, setting the mug down and clapping your hands together with mock enthusiasm. “well, i hope you’re ready for two hours of mind-numbing algebra!”

her eyes went wide, and with an exaggerated “nope!” she launched herself off rafe’s back, darting back to the living room without a second thought.

“brutal,” rafe muttered, shaking his head with mock defeat. “never been dumped so fast.”

you laughed as he made his way around the kitchen island, stopping beside your dad. “good to see you, sir,” he said warmly, flashing the same charming smile he reserved for winning over teachers and parents.

your dad chuckled, shaking his head as he rinsed another plate. “you know, it’s gotta be a record—almost two months of my wife and i trying to get you to call us by our names.”

rafe raised his brows, hands up in mock surrender, his grin widening. “i swear, i want to, but every time i even think about it, i can feel my mom right behind me, ready to smack me upside the head. it’s ingrained at this point. conditioning.”

“don’t worry,” your dad replied with a good-natured laugh. “we’ll get you there eventually.”

rafe just smiled, but his focus shifted almost instinctively to you, like there was an invisible string pulling him closer. his movements were unhurried, yet deliberate, as he closed the space between you, his expression soft but intense. the way he looked at you made your breath hitch, your grip on the plate faltering for a moment.

“hey,” he murmured, voice low but warm, his eyes holding yours as he placed his hands on the counter, boxing you in.

“hey,” you whispered back, your smile tugging wider when his gaze flickered to your lips.

it hadn’t even been an hour since you’d last seen him, just a few hours since your last kiss, yet his presence still made your stomach flutter like it was the first time. you felt yourself leaning in, drawn to him, your faces inches apart.

just as your lips were about to meet, your dad cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the moment like a bucket of cold water. “don’t push your luck, kid,” he said, gesturing for rafe to sit at the kitchen table.

your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but rafe only grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before obeying your dad’s request.

you busied yourself with the dishes, trying to ignore the warmth in your face as the two of them fell into easy conversation. the next fifteen minutes were filled with laughter and stories, your dad regaling rafe with funny anecdotes about your mom’s family while you finished drying the last of the plates.

when you were finally done, you had to tug at rafe’s arm to pull him away. “alright, enough bonding,” you teased, trying not to laugh at the way they were both reluctant to end their chat. “come on, you’re mine now.”

rafe let himself be dragged out of the kitchen, his hand slipping into yours as you led him away, his warm laugh trailing behind you.

“i got you something,” rafe says casually, sprawled out on your bed, his head resting lazily on your pillow. his voice is unassuming, but there’s a flicker of anticipation in his eyes.

“what, a perfect score on your algebra test?” you tease, flashing him a playful smile.

he chuckles softly, shaking his head as he reaches for his backpack. “better,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

your curiosity spikes when he pulls out a small paper box, holding it out in front of him like it’s some kind of treasure. you lean closer, squinting at it until he turns it toward you, the logo on the front sparking immediate recognition.

“oh my god! a lemon cake from leonie’s bakery!” your eyes widen, and you practically snatch the box from his hands, grinning like a kid on christmas morning. “i haven’t had this in months. how did you even know i like these?” you pause, narrowing your eyes at him. “don’t tell me you talked to hazel.”

it’s hard to imagine hazel, exchanging more than a few words with rafe, let alone enough to spill this little piece of information.

he shakes his head, his smirk faint but proud. “you said it,” he replies simply.

you frown, confused. “i told you about this lemon cake?” you wrack your brain for any memory of mentioning it to him but come up blank.

“not me,” he corrects. “you told devon. you said you were craving it.”

you stare at him, the pieces slowly clicking into place. it was such a throwaway comment, a random conversation you barely remembered having until now. “rafe, that was two weeks ago,” you laugh, almost in disbelief.

he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “yeah. i was wondering why you didn’t just go get some if you wanted it so bad. then i looked it up and saw the closest leonie’s is, like, forty-five minutes from the dock on the mainland.”

you gasp softly, the realization dawning on you. “don’t tell me you drove all the way there!”

he shakes his head, grinning at your dramatic reaction. “nah. i would’ve, though. i mentioned going to the mainland to buy it for you to my mom, and she offered to grab it for me since she passes by there for work.”

you stare at him, your expression softening into this mix of a pout and a smile. “you didn’t have to go through all that trouble. or get your mom involved,” you murmur, the warmth in your chest spreading.

before you can say anything else, he reaches for you, gently tugging you down onto the bed beside him. “it wasn’t any trouble,” he says, his voice dropping to that low, comforting tone that always gets to you. “she was already there. and even if she wasn’t, i would’ve gone.”

your heart feels like it’s trying to climb its way out of your chest. leaning down, you brush your lips against his, barely a whisper of a kiss. “thank you,” you whisper softly.

you feel him smile against your lips before his hands come up to cup your face. “stop thanking me,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “it’s just a pastry.”

you smile back at him, shaking your head slightly. “it’s not just a pastry. it’s that you remembered. and that you listened—even when i wasn’t talking to you.”

he smirks faintly, teasing, “guess i know how to get back in your good graces if i ever mess up in the future.”

you kiss him again, this time lingering just a little longer. “it’s not the pastry,” you say quietly, your words brushing his lips. “it’s you.”

you’re trying not to fall. not to let the warmth in your chest take over, not to let the way he looks at you consume you completely.

don’t fall in love. don’t fall in love. don’t fall in love.

“i always listen to you,” he whispers, his voice gentle as his nose nuzzles yours.

your heart doesn’t stand a chance.

too late. too late. too late.

you lean up to press a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for just a moment. “open your algebra book to page 131, please.” you murmur, your voice gentle but teasing. his groan in response makes you smile, his reluctance written all over his face as he drags his hand to the textbook and flips through it with a sigh.

sliding off the bed, you grab your laptop from the nightstand and settle beside him, close enough that your knee brushes against his. while rafe finally finds the right page, you open your laptop, quickly scanning the reading you need to finish for tomorrow. but for now, you set it aside, giving him your full attention.

“okay,” you begin, leaning slightly toward him as you start explaining the chapter.

the tutoring session starts with good intentions. it always does.

but two minutes in, you glance over and catch him staring at you, his book forgotten in his lap, his gaze fixed on your face with a softness that makes your breath hitch. four minutes in, his fingers are tangled in your hair, the algebra completely abandoned as he leans closer, his touch distracting in the best and worst ways.

six minutes in, you’re repeating yourself, trying to get him to focus, but it’s hopeless. his attention isn’t on anything you’re saying—it’s on you. eight minutes in, he’s holding your hand, lifting it to his lips, his kisses slow and deliberate on each knuckle.

ten minutes in, algebra is a distant memory, and you’re straddling his lap, lips crashing into his in a kiss so intense, it steals the breath from your lungs.

you’re convinced there must be a scientific explanation for the way rafe can unravel you so easily. how his touch, his lips, his very presence can reduce you to a pliant, needy mess in seconds. your mind is foggy, your body weak, and melting into his without hesitation.

his hands are firm on your back, sliding down slowly as he pulls you closer, closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies. your fingers grip his shoulders as if to steady yourself, though the heat coursing through you is anything but steady.

you don’t even remember when your lips parted for him, but now you’re entirely lost in the way his tongue moves against yours, intentionally and consuming. you tug at his shirt, trying to ground yourself, but instead, the fabric only seems to fuel your need to feel more of him.

unable to resist, you nip at his bottom lip, tugging gently with your teeth. the low sound that escapes him sends a shiver down your spine, and his hands slide lower, settling firmly on your hips.

it feels practiced, the way his fingers tighten, gripping you just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you. and then he’s tugging you forward, a deliberate move that leaves no question about what’s happening between the two of you.

the thin material of your shorts does nothing to mask the sensation of the head of his cock pushing right along your clothed slit.

the move makes you gasp in pleasure, "g-god..!" you're immediately seeking more and need him to do it again. he catches on pretty quickly and without any complaint, he's got his hands on your hips and is helping you move back and forth on his lap, "mm.." you're weakly whining against his lips as you lazily rut against him, desperately chasing release.

you drive your hips against his tip, slowly grinding against it and you could cry at the fact that it couldn't go in because of your clothes. you had a half a mind to just fuck him right here but that seemed to be a line neither of you wanted to cross with your family in the house.

"i need it.." you're whining against his lips, hips bucking fiercely on his lap and he exhales sharply, hands on your hips. "you know we can't do that here.." he's struggling, squeezing your hips like he's scared to let them wander.

your stomach twists and you groan quietly without slowing your hips. the pleasure felt too good, too intense to stop. before you can actually burst into tears, rafe is shifting. "here, try this.." he moves from sitting on your bed to lying with his head on a pillow before tugging his sweats down and leaving his briefs on. his cock is straining in his briefs and without hesitation, you're reaching for it.

rafe grabs your wrist, "no." he grabs your hips and puts you right on his clothed cock and without warning, he ruts you forward on his lap.

your hips stutter at the intense pleasure and you're immediataly throwing your head back and fisting your bed sheets. "ohhh..that feels good..!" you whimper as you grind your hips onto his lap, hips moving back and forth over and over until every thing fades into the background, until all you know and all you can think of us to rut on rafe's lap and chase your release. "that's it, baby, take what you need." rafe rasps as his hands guide you and help you stay somewhat upright.

"uh uh uh uh.." your sweet, dumb moans are filling the room as you fuck yourself silly on rafe's lap and push against his cock just to feel his tip almost pushing past your slit but not quite due to your shorts blocking the passage.

rafe stuffs your mouth with his fingers as he mutters something about needing to be more quiet or whatever. you're not sure, you're too drunk on his cock, too busy rutting to listen. you only notice a couple of seconds later that rafe has unbuttoned your pyjama shirt and you're sitting there, tits bouncing with every small movement you make.

you know you're close when your eyes fill with tears and rafe starts helping you move again because you're getting all sloppy and unorganised. your vision always gets spotty during this part. it's always the vision first, then the fuzzy feeling and then you're gripping something—in this case, rafe's wrist that is right by your tit that he's fondling in his big hands.

"rafe.. rafe..!" you whine around his fingers, eyes rolling back as you sloppily rut in his lap and just a second later, your toes are curling, vision spotty and you're cumming on his lap.

you’re utterly drained, every ounce of energy spent, and your body seems to have a mind of its own as you collapse forward without a second thought. rafe, sharper and more grounded than you in the moment, shifts quickly to catch you before you crash into him. his strong arms wrap around you instinctively, steadying you as your head finds its way to his shoulder, settling there like it was always meant to.

his hand moves gently to your back, a steady presence that matches the low murmur of his voice. "you okay?" he asks, his breath brushing the shell of your ear, the warmth of it sending a delicate shiver down your spine.

you don’t bother lifting your head, instead offering a soft hum, your eyes fluttering closed as you sink into him. okay doesn’t even begin to describe it. every part of you feels light, weightless, like the world beyond this moment has dissolved entirely.

the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand anchors you, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if he knows just how safe you feel here—in his arms, pressed against him, utterly and completely at peace.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

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