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norrizzandpia · 1 year ago

Note

i am Politely Asking for the lando post-race imagine you mentioned 👀👀👀

Your guys’ wish is my command 🤭

All He Needed Was Her (LN4)

Summary: Following the Vegas ‘23 crash, Y/n and Adam find Lando in his hospital bed, yearning for the comfort of his girlfriend’s touch.

Warnings: a panic attack, inferences of death, Lando crashing

Note: that crash was so hard to watch and i still have not recovered

Silence encompassed the space around her, her mind sick with the images of Lando’s crash. What she thought could potentially be his first race win had turned into her worst nightmare as Lando’s car laid smashed against the protecting fences. Her mouth stayed agape as she listened to her boyfriend’s broken “I’m ok,” followed by concerning whimpers and groans. Her eyes frantically searched the room, the faces of his loved ones burned into her brain with their watery eyes and panicked looks. She couldn’t bear the tension within the space, the expressions of the people around her like he had died. The room closed in on her quickly, allowing for no space to breathe or get out of the anxiety filling her lungs. She felt trapped, a panic attack coming on inevitably when she saw the way his hand shook, his arms trying to push himself out of the car yet failing continuously.

She shoved the headset off her ears, shutting out the taunting sounds, before throwing herself into the crowd behind her and pushing them to the side as she tried desperately to claw herself out. She couldn’t turn her head back to see the screens, not even when applauding emitted and a good sign emerged. Y/n reached the door, her hand grasping the handle and hesitating. A large hand grasping her shoulder called her back, willing her to open her eyes and see the survival of her love. When she turned around, her eyes looking up, she was met with the soft look of Adam, Lando’s father.

No matter how comforting he was trying to be, his bloodshot eyes reminded her of the risks her boyfriend took, the chances of him not getting out of that car after a race.

It was too much.

Her heart beat out of her chest and she struggled to find air, her impending anxiety surely, gradually, painfully encroaching her being.

Adam, being familiar with the anxiety attacks his son got, saw the signs, opening the door behind her quickly and shoving her into the empty hallway. His hands landed on her biceps, gripping them as he shook her gently.

“Y/n?” His voice was distant and Y/n wanted to run toward it, however nothing was ever that easy.

He tried again, “Y/n, breathe with me.”

Her mind understood, her lungs expanding shortly as he began to inhale. Tears seeped through the crack of her lips, adding to the drowning she felt she was enduring.

She blubbered and sobbed as she tried to follow his pattern, proving difficult when suffocation seemed probable.

Nevertheless, Adam’s determination triumphed, her mind slowing down as her body caught up.

He looked at her with pity as she came down, his eyes swimming in a certain sympathy she didn’t recognize. This was deeper, he was seeing the pain she was bearing, relating to it because of the exact connection they both nurtured with the boy.

His hands left her arms, stilling at his sides as he began to coax her toward his driver’s room, “How about you rest for a while? That seemed really bad.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, I need to be awake for Lando. What if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Adam closed his eyes as he nudged her into the small room, “Then, I will come wake you. But, for now, he’s going to go to the circuit’s medical center and there’s nothing we can do. It’s best if you allow yourself to relax after that.”

She knew he was right, more so because he sounded exactly like his son. When she had these horrid experiences, Lando was right beside her immediately, gently leading her to any surface where she could lie down. He knew exactly how to make it go away, she never expected to have to do it without him or because of him. He was consistently advocating for her rest after an attack, something that always helped her recover more quickly.

That memory, those habitual instances, persuaded her to give in to Adam’s pleas. He smiled at her as she brought a blanket over her body, Lando’s scent encompassing her body.

“I promise I’ll be back when I have updates.”

She nodded, trusting him like she had for the past few years, “Okay, thank you.”

He closed the door with a nod, the dark haunting her enough to close her eyes and lean into the quiet, peaceful embrace of sleep.

—

She was awoken by shaking, more specifically Adam’s hands shaking her upper body.

“Y/n, wake up.” He whispered, his words guiding her back to the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Yeah?”

He seemed stoic, rigid and stressed, something that made Y/n truly wake up, “Lando’s at the hospital. They said we can meet him there.”

She shot up from her laid down position, “What?! The hospital?! Is he okay?!”

His father sighed beside her, getting up and showing how antsy he was to move when he lingered by the door, “I don’t know.”

—

The pair burst through the doors of the hospital, launching themselves at the nurses who sat behind the desk. Their words mixed together as they sputtered out his name, occupation, and situation. This proved to be inefficient because the women looked back at them blankly.

Y/n tried again, “We are here to see Lando Norris. He is a Formula 1 driver and he was involved in an accident.”

It dawns on the employee and her head tilts slightly, “I can’t give out information on him because of his status and occupation. I am sorry. Unless you can prove you are family to him then I can’t give you anything.”

Adam’s hand flew to his pocket, whipping out his wallet and showing her his identification, proving his blood relation to Lando. Y/n watched with a heavy heart as she realized she had nothing to show, she wasn’t family. She was crushed as she realized he would be able to go on to see their boy without her.

When the woman gave him the room number, she gave it to him on paper so as to deter anyone overhearing, he bolted. He was right at the door that led to another hallway when he stopped and turned around, motions for Y/n to follow him.

“I need to see your proof of family relations.” The nurse beside her said expectantly whilst Adam moved back over to the desk.

She shook her head, “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t have proof of blood relations.”

The nurse shrugged, “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t have you go through.”

Y/n opened her mouth to fight back, but Adam interrupted her, “No, she has to. I’ve just shown you I’m his father, take my word for it. Please. My son needs her right now.”

The nurse seemed to be at a crossroads as her gaze flickered between Adam and Y/n. Finally, she nodded curtly and the two were running throughout the building. Down different hallways within the floor, they quickly reached his room. Without thinking, Adam charged in, a strong wave of emotion hitting him when he saw his son wrapped up in a hospital bed.

“Lando,” He sighed, arms falling around Lando’s body as he squeezed him softly, careful with him.

“Hi, dad. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He mumbled into his shoulder, hand laying loosely over the back of his father.

Y/n watched from the corner, tears pricking the sides of her eyes at the sight of him. She watched as they pulled back, Lando’s eyes meeting hers and softening with relief before Adam was coughing and excusing himself from the room.

When they were left alone, she walked slowly to him. She stood in front of him for a moment, both individuals taking in the other after the traumatic time apart. When he had had enough of not holding her in his arms, Lando reached out and pulled her closer to his body, arms linking around her hips as he stuffed his face into her chest. She breathed out as her hands tangled in his hair, both of them memorizing the way the other calmed them in such a state.

He clung to her, breathing steady as she whispered sweet, quiet words of love and encouragement to him.

“Sit with me?” He asked with a low volume, pulling back slightly and looking up at her.

She could never say no to his deep green eyes, “Always.”

He shifted to the side as she slid in next to him. She watched the way his eyes lingered over her lap. Chuckling, Y/n sat further against the wall, “Lay your head on my lap, baby.”

He smiled at her brightly, a childlike grin as he shuffled down and set his curly hair over her pants.

A silence passed before she was whispering again, “I love you so much. It was so scary seeing you crash today and I just could not live a life without you. I love you, Lan. You’ve ruined my life for the better. There’s no way I could ever go a day without you.”

He nodded below her, “I can’t either. I kept asking for you when I was at the circuit after the crash, but they kept telling me I couldn’t have any visitors with the impact I had just endured. I was so angry, all I wanted was you. I’ve been like a sitting duck as I stared at the wall and waited for you to arrive. But, now that you’re here, I already feel like I’m getting better. That’s your impact on me. I love you too, love. Being without you for that was worse than the crash itself.”

She looked down at him, leaning over to kiss his temple. When he felt the pressure, he turned his head. She had been pulling back, but got the hint when he looked up at her expectantly. He giggled as she leaned back down, meeting his lips with her own in an intimate, soft kiss.

When they pulled back, she watched his eyes slowly close when she began massaging his scalp and tugging gently at his brown hair. He moaned quietly at the feeling, stroking his hand over her leg as she comforted him with just her presence.

He buried his face further into her lap, breathing her in. By the change of angle, she lost sight of his face, only relying on the monitor to tell her he had fallen asleep when it evened out, reaching a rhythm.

Only then did Adam return, smiling lightly at his sleeping son laying in the lap of his girlfriend. Truly the sweetest sight, he thought, something he would’ve taken a picture of had Y/n been asleep as well.

He sat in the chair beside them, cocking his head at her.

“Thank you.”

The two words caused Y/n’s eyebrows to draw together, confusion etched into her face, “For what?”

Adam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “For being there for him. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always put everyone else first. He’s always made it the biggest priority to make others feel good when he wasn’t at all. Cisca and I always wished for someone to come along and take care of him right back. Turns out our wishing wasn’t in vain. Here you are and he’s finally understanding what it’s like to be loved that way.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, eyes averting back to her sleeping boyfriend strewn across her lap, before choking out, “Thank you, Adam. That means the world from you.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair before kicking his legs up toward the end of the bed. He watched her lean her head back, scumming to sleep just like Lando, her hands still buried in his hair.

That was when he took the picture, sending it to the Norris Family group chat, it including Y/n, and assuring the members of Lando’s wellness.

Adam (2:35 AM)

Image Attachment

Adam (2:35 AM)

Lando’s okay! Don’t worry! All he needed was some medication to calm his nerves and Y/n 🧡

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binniebakery · 8 months ago

Text

Your Biggest Fan!

Rockstar!Yeonjun x Fem!Reader, Strangers to ?? (fwb? teehee) Slightly Suggestive! ♡ Summary: Your best friend forces you to attend a local rock group’s concert. You weren’t expecting much until said group’s lead guitarist catches your eye with a wink and a smile, now he’s all you can think about. Little do you know you’ve caught his attention too. ♡ Warnings: smoking, some drinking, n cursing, the sexual tension go crazy, yeonjun is kinda mean, almost burns reader with a cig, this is not proofread! ♡ A/N: finally! After so long i post this lmaoo tbh i had the biggest writer’s block for this fic (I cringed while every second writing this so I very much hate it but o well!) but as promised this was going to be my next one!! moawajunnies please enjoy!!

“Ah, shit– I spilled my drink!” Your friend groaned and you looked from your phone to see part of her outfit drenched in beer. It’s a good thing she was wearing all black. “You alright?” you ask, joining her in assessing the damage.

“Yeah, just clumsy..” She then excuses herself to search for something to wipe the beverage off, mumbling a ‘just as the concert was about to start’ as she squeezes through the crowd. There was probably a low chance she’d make it back to your spot in the very front.

You turn back to the screen, watching the timer tick down. Three minutes left and the crowd was starting to get more impatient by the second, internally cringing at the way you were getting shoved up against the barricade.

God, this was not your type of event at all, not with the amount of smelly drunk attendees. You were only here because you were dragged.

Time went by surprisingly quick as your subway surfer’s gameplay was cut quickly to an end. Music began to roar across the small outside garage and you felt the bass pump through your veins.

A group of five males walk up on stage, the tallest member, their leader, smiling and waving as he approaches his spot, dimples on display as he held his large keyboard guitar.

The drummer, your best friend's favorite, had blonde hair curled perfectly against his handsome features. Tapping his drumsticks with a grin as the crowd roared his name. “Kai! Kai! Kai!”

The group’s bassist and lead guitarist walk in, jumping and showing off their skills with nimble fingers, causing the crowd to get louder and louder. The lead guitarist’s brown wolf cut bouncing as he smirked and waved, black-haired bassist motioning his hands for the crowd to scream louder.

The perfect combination of charisma and attitude for a rock band.

Lastly, the lead vocalist runs on stage, microphone headset attached to his head as he stops front in center. His eyeliner smeared in just the right way, his soft orange hair a bright contrast to his torn and tattered outfit. Immediately you could tell he was the main attraction as fans roared.

Though you can’t say you could disagree, this man had an aura, and it was becoming more intense the longer you stared at him.

Said male lifts his chin to the crowd, a confident smile as fans swooned. “How are we doin’ tonight!?” The place shook and you felt the air grow thicker with every second. You felt the need to join in, feeling the energy shoot through your veins. At this point thoughts of where your best friend was had completely left your mind.

“Let’s fucking go then! This one’s called ‘Growing Pain’!” He kicks and the notes begin to blare through the speakers.

To say these guys weren’t talented would be the biggest understatement in history. The presence they served was beyond comprehensible and although you had never listened to their music prior, you felt immediately entranced by their stage presence.

Their lead singer especially. He had the attitude of a true rockstar, grabbing his water bottle and splashing the water on himself and the crowd after taking his sip. You were completely lost in the character portrayed in front of you, and you had the perfect view too.

As the concert went on, you came to learn the lead singer’s name was Yeonjun, and this Yeonjun was definitely eye candy.

‘Dreamer’ was one of their slower songs, but the crowd seemed to adore it. The sensual combination of the boy’s voices mixing together and harmonizing to create a sexy and attractive atmosphere and you felt practically high on the sound.

You still couldn’t take your eyes off Yeonjun. The way his body moved and the way he always seemed to linger in your part of the stage didn’t help either.

“Let me break it down for you..” Yeonjun’s gaze lands onto yours and you hold eye contact. You feel your body buzz at the interaction. The singer bites his lip as the leader of the group sings his verse, Yeonjun’s eyes never shifting from your position.

Damn, he was good at his job.

The rest of the concert proceeds like that, you and Yeonjun exchanging stares and at one point he winks at you, mouthing a ‘call me’ as his hand waves. You immediately flush at the boldness. He knew how to really interact with his audience.

The concert ends and you finally meet up with your friend, flusteredly attempting to explain the interactions you received and she groans. “Fuck– lucky! I’m so mad I wasn’t able to get back to the front, but at least we both enjoyed the concert..” She smiles weakly and you pat her back. Suddenly you feel a large hand tap your shoulder.

Why the hell was the band’s lead singer standing behind you?

“Hey.” Yeonjun smiles and he tilts his shades upwards, as if you wouldn’t have recognized him. Were the shades supposed to be some sort of disguise? He was literally still wearing the same outfit as earlier, sweat droplets still falling down the sides of his face and you can’t believe the fact that nobody has noticed him yet.

“Oh! Uh– well I gotta go– see you later y/n!” Your friend coughs and runs off to her car. You watch her leave with a confused look. I mean, you two did come to the concert in your designated cars, but what the hell was that about?

You turn back to Yeonjun embarrassed. “Ah, sorry… how can I help?”

Really? The hottest member of the band is talking to you and you're asking him how you can help like he’s a customer at a grocery store?

Yeonjun chuckles and stares you down, tongue in cheek, and you shiver from the attention.

“I wanted to get a better look at you, pretty face was starin’ at me the whole concert.”

You laugh nervously and place your hands on your hips. You decided that you’d entertain him. “Well, how could I not? Your performance really caught my attention.” You prayed to whatever God was out there that Yeonjun couldn’t sense the way your entire body tensed from his gaze.

“Mine or my band’s?” He smirks and you feel a lump in your throat. You wanted to just pass out then and there.

“Y- yours of course..” You mumble, toying with the hem of your outfit. Since when did a man make you so nervous?

“Is that so..?” He steps closer to you and offers his hand. “You wanna grab a drink or a cig?” He tilts his head and you stare at him with wide eyes. You felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh.. sure…? What about your bandmates though?” You were really trying to remain unfazed by his forwardness.

“They'll be doing their own thing, let's go yeah?” Yeonjun gently grabs your wrist and is pulling you along with him, fully oblivious to the stares you were receiving from the concert’s remaining attendees.

Yeonjun takes you backstage, and you could hear your heartbeat thumping throughout your ears as he opened the door to his changing room.

The room was dimly lit, with a crappy light flickering every few minutes. Yeonjun’s clothes were tossed around, makeup vanity in disarray, and gifts and flowers from fans were neatly placed in the corner on a table. You hold your breath as Yeonjun closes the door behind him, lock clicking

You had no idea what was going on or how you even got in this situation, you had simply just attended this concert for the sake of your friend not wanting to come alone. Now here you were, backstage in the lead singer’s dressing room and you had no idea what he wanted with you.. but the burning feeling inside your stomach begged you to stay and your curiosity grew.

“Make yourself comfy, or just stand there, I won’t rush you.” Yeonjun laughs as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket. He lights it and holds it out to you.

He places the end towards your mouth and you inhale, Yeonjun licks his lips as he watches the way your mouth wraps around it. “Darling.. you really know how to tease a guy huh?”

You stare at each other as you exhale the smoke and the burning in your throat is nothing compared to the burning heat throughout your body. This man had an effect on you in the same way you were affecting him.

You take this opportunity to stare up at Yeonjuns face, his features even more handsome now that you were this close. You take in the way his damp hair sat perfectly on his face, the smell of sweat and his cologne radiating off of him. The choker he wore called your attention to his neck and the way his sweat had dried mostly but you could still make out where the droplets had sat. You swallow and your eyes find their way back to Yeonjun’s.

Yeonjun notices your tension and smirks. “Like what you see pretty girl?” God why was he so fucking attractive.

“Maybe I do.. Is there an issue with that?” You stare at Yeonjun and the look on your face is enough for him to know what you wanted. You really wanted to regain control of the situation, so you decided to tease him further. “Yeonjun, right?.. You sure you wanna be alone with me in this room right now?”

Yeonjun scoffs at your reply. “Why? You trynna be one of my girls tonight?” Yeonjun quirked an eyebrow at you with a smug look, casually leaning against the doorframe. Your breath hitched.

You bite your lip at the suggestion, what was this man playing at? “And what if I do?”

Oh, you were playing with fire.

“You sure you want this? You know how many girls would kill for your position right now?” Yeonjun queries as he carries himself over to you. It finally dawns on you that you both really were alone in his dressing room and that his body was too close to yours, completely leaving you trapped between him and the wall behind you.

You could feel the way Yeonjun’s body heat begged to intertwine with yours, you felt your muscles weaken under him as he placed an arm on each side of your face on the wall. The room felt smaller and the scent of the cigarette in his mouth lingers around you as his breath alone practically envelops your senses.

Honestly, at this point, it didn’t matter how many girls he’s been with, hell you could care less if he even contacted you after this. You wanted him.

“I know well what I’m getting into.” You confidently stare up into Yeonjun’s intense gaze, feeling the way his eyes are scanning every curve of your body.

“Alright tough girl, can you handle this though?” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and pulls the cigarette from his mouth with the other hand, placing it near your skin just enough so you feel the slight burn.

“Ah– ah! Yeonjun–!” You choke and he cackles at the way you weakly attempt to pull away. You stare up at him, eyes slightly watery but the way your legs feel like jelly from the way he's treating you makes you slightly crave more.

“Relax darlin’, I wouldn’t hurt a single hair on you.” Yeonjun drops the cigarette to the floor and crushes it with his boot, still holding your wrist tightly.

He pulls your wrist over your head and he finally pushes his body up to yours. You inhale into his shoulder and Yeonjun’s beaming from the way you just lean into him. He relished in the way you let him do what he wanted to you.

“Stay for me, will you? Kinda like the way you looked up at me from the crowd with that pretty face.” The biggest grin spreads across Yeonjun’s handsome face and of course, who were you to say no? You were more than willing to let this man break you.

After all, you were now his biggest fan.

#txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x y/n #txt x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

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oneshotnewbie · 1 month ago

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Hi! I would love to request something! if your requests are closed don’t worry, feel free to ignore this :)

I’d love to request a 911 one shot with Maddie Buckley x fem!reader, they could either be together or just feel something for one another but are still not a thing. Basically I just watched 3x13 and I cried the entire time because I love her and she has been through so much. So I was thinking about a one shot in which Maddie has a really bad day (it can be related to her past with Doug or something else that’s up to you) but she’s been on the verge of breaking down the entire day so she goes to the reader’s house for comfort and she just treats her gently and hugs her and makes sure she feels safe with her. I just love her so much I need to give her a hug. Also, sorry for my english, it’s not my first language. have a good day 🫶🏻

Authors note: Enjoy reading. I tried to fulfill your request as best as I could and I hope you like it ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The lights of the dispatch center stung Maddie Buckley's eyes like tiny needles today. Every time she turned her head, the harsh white of the neon tubes seemed to glow brighter, like a painful flash that burned itself almost aggressively into her consciousness. She felt a dull throbbing building behind her forehead and forced herself to ignore it. Another day, she told herself. Another day at work, like always. But even as she took her place at the console and entered her login information into the flickering monitor, she knew that today would not be like that.

She sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by the familiar faces of her colleagues, clinging to their screens like lifelines in a stormy sea. The hum of the monitors, the click of the keyboards, the deep hum of the air conditioning - normally these sounds were soothing. Routine, a constant presence in a world of chaos. But today they sounded like a menacing cacophony, piercing her mind.

She took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she put on the headset. "Another day," she whispered, knowing it was a lie. It was one of those days when memories forced their way into her mind like an uninvited guest, like a noose that kept tightening

Doug.

His name was like a cold shiver running down her spine. She felt the fear rising in her stomach, the familiar tingling she had felt so often over the years. The scars on her body might have healed, but the ones inside her were deep, and today they seemed to be opening up again. She remembered his anger, the nights when she heard his footsteps echoing through the house, his soft whisper cutting into her ear like a knife. "You can't escape, Maddie. No matter how far you run."

She bit her lip until she tasted blood and forced herself to push the thought away. He wasn't here. He couldn't hurt her anymore. She was safe, she was free - at least she should be. But the voices in her head, the faint memories of his screams and the coldness in his eyes, always found their way back. Sometimes in her sleep, sometimes in quiet moments. But today - today was different. Today the shadows were closer.

Her fingertips danced over the keys as the first emergency line lit up. "911, how can I help?" her voice sounded clear, professional. Automatic. She had trained herself so well in the role that even the tremors of her soul didn't break through the facade. A man was screaming on the other end of the line. His car had crashed into a lamppost, his daughter in the back seat, motionless. Maddie responded as she always did - calm, precise, with instructions that gave the panicked voice support. "Stay calm, sir. Can you tell me if she's breathing?"

Seconds ticked by as she waited for a response, the clicks and beeps of the other consoles around her like a pulsing roar in her ears. Finally, the answer came, leaving a knot in her stomach every time. "No, she... she's not moving!"

Maddie set the emergency call chain in motion, relaying the address to the emergency services and holding the connection as the father grew more and more desperate. "She'll be fine," she heard herself say, even though she knew she should never promise something like that. But the words just came. She felt like she was suffocating while simultaneously maintaining the facade of the cool, composed professional. Minutes that felt like hours passed until finally another dispatcher confirmed that the paramedics had arrived. Only then did she let go of the line and close her eyes. But instead of relief, something darker spread - a wave of exhaustion and an overwhelming urge to cry that she suppressed with all her might.

She opened her eyes and forced herself to focus on the screens again. The flickering light blinded her, and the voices of her colleagues around her suddenly sounded far too loud. It was a sound that reminded her of the nights when Doug had screamed at her while she desperately tried to make herself small, invisible, to escape the pain. Her hands shook more and she had to wrap them tightly around the edge of the desk to keep control. Each breath felt like it was coming through thick fog and she tried to focus on it, as she had learned in therapy. But instead of finding clarity, the memories continued to rise like dark tides that pulled her underwater.

She felt like she was going to throw up. The walls of the room seemed to be closing in, the air getting thinner. As she tried to distract herself, the next call came in and Maddie put the headphones back on. "911, what's your emergency?"

Another accident. A man had fallen from a ladder and was lying unconscious on the ground. Maddie heard the sobbing voice of the wife, who could barely breathe in panic as she tried to resuscitate her husband. She forced herself to remain calm and guided the woman. Her words sounded like a computer program, carefully chosen, and for a moment she managed to maintain the facade of professionalism. But when the emergency call ended and the line was cleared, she felt the walls of the room closing in on her. She was about to collapse, and she knew it.

But she continued working, mechanically, her mind caught in a whirlpool of memory and fear. Until lunchtime.

Maddie stood in the kitchen, poking holes in her coffee cup. Her hands were shaking so much that she almost dropped the cup. As she tried to raise the hot mug to her lips, she felt her pulse racing through her veins. The warmth of the coffee did little to calm her, and the words swirling in her head drowned out the noises around her.

She couldn't stop thinking about Doug, his threatening words, his fists. He wasn't here, she kept telling herself. But it felt like he was standing right behind her, like she could feel his hand on her back.

"You can't escape, Maddie. No matter how far you run." Doug's voice came to the forefront of her mind again, cold and cutting. It was just a memory, just an echo from another time. But it felt so real, she could feel the heat of his hand on her wrist, the strength he had once held her with. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep focusing on her breathing. "Inhale... one, two, three. Exhale... one, two, three."

When she opened her eyes, she stared at her reflection in the break room window. There she was - the same woman who had had the courage to run away, who had made a new start. But today she felt like the broken woman from back then, trapped in an endless nightmare that wouldn't let her go.

Suddenly there was a loud bang next to her. The coffee machine had overheated and almost exploded with steam when someone pulled the plug. Maddie jumped violently and dropped her cup, which shattered on the floor with a loud bang. The hot coffee splashed over her hands and burned like fire. "Are you OK, Maddie?" asked Josh, her colleague and one of the few people who knew why she had come to Los Angeles in the first place. Maddie forced a smile and nodded, even though tears burned in her eyes. "Yes, everything is fine."

But nothing was fine. Not in the slightest. She could feel the walls she had built around her fear and her memories crumbling. Every phone call, every siren, every frantic movement today seemed to pull her deeper into an abyss from which there was no escape.

Back at her console, she looked at the clock. Four hours left until the end of her shift. Four hours of keeping up the facade, of saving all those lives while feeling like hers was on fire. The next call came in. A house fire, children still in the building. Maddie swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. "I'm with you," she said, even though she felt like she was losing control at any moment.

It was like walking a tightrope - a balancing act between professionalism and inner chaos. But as she saw the clock count down another minute, she knew one thing: She could hold on.

But for how much longer?

ᕚ---ᕘ

Maddie felt the chill of the night air on her skin as she left the parking lot of the dispatch center. The path to her car blurred before her eyes as fatigue crept into her limbs. The day had drained her mentally, pushed her to her limits and beyond. Her steps were heavy, and with every meter she walked, the silence grew around her. The darkness felt like a burden today, an oppressive presence that wanted to swallow her up. Her nerves were frayed.

But when she reached your front door, the familiar facade of the house seemed like a lighthouse in a raging storm and she paused for a moment. The warm glow of the light that fell through the windows - it was her refuge. Here she could breathe. Here she could just be herself. Without the fear, without the facade that she had to maintain so often. Just like today. She felt broken, torn between the relief of being here and the fear that she might be too much, too fragile for you today.

The darkness of the night embraced her with a coldness that crept deep into her bones. She hesitated before putting the key in the lock, as if she had to find the strength to take the last step. Goosebumps ran through her body and she had to take a deep breath to remind herself that she was safe here - with you.

As soon as she opened the door, it was as if you had sensed her arrival. You were already standing in the hallway, your face etched with concern and warmth. The dim light coming from the living room enveloped her in a soft glow, and Maddie felt a rush of relief that almost overwhelmed her.

Maddie held her breath as their eyes met. "Hey," she said quietly, her voice shaky, barely above a whisper. The tears that had been burning behind her eyes all day now burst forth uncontrollably. Her whole body shook as she finally let go.

Your eyes widened, and without another word you closed the distance between you. Your arms wrapped gently around her shoulders, pulling her gently but firmly into a warm, tight embrace. The heat of your body immediately flowed into Maddie's icy limbs, and she felt the knot in her chest loosen a little. She clung to you as if you were the only anchor keeping her on the surface and buried her face in the hollow between your neck and shoulder, breathing in your favorite perfume - a mix of roses and vanilla that immediately calmed her.

Your warmth was like a protective shield that seemed to ward off the cold and darkness that had enveloped Maddie all day. "It's okay," you whispered, your hands sliding soothingly down her back, slow and loving, like waves gently lapping at the shore. "I've got you. I'm here," you held her tighter, placing a hand in Maddie's hair and gently running your fingers through the strands. Every movement was a promise: you are safe with me.

Your voice was soft and comforting, and Maddie felt her body slowly relax under the soothing touches. It was as if you were releasing each layer of her tension, one by one, with each gentle movement of your fingertips.

Maddie felt the tears running hot down her cheeks, and her whole body trembled as she clung to you tighter, as if that would protect her from the shadows of her memories. "It was such a terrible day," she gasped, her voice a strangled and trembling whisper. "I... I can't do this anymore."

Your embrace tightened, protective, as if you wanted to shield her from all the evil in the world as you rocked her gently back and forth. You gently pressed your lips to her forehead, letting them rest there for a long moment as you continued to whisper soothingly. "You don't have to go through this alone, Maddie. I'm holding you tight. You don't have to explain anything if you don't want to," you pulled her deeper into your arms, letting her feel the security she so desperately needed. "I'm not letting you go, okay? Not unless you want to."

You slowly led Maddie into the living room, not letting go of her for a moment. The touch remained constant, a gentle, unwavering promise that made her feel like she could finally breathe again. When you reached the couch, you sat down and gently pulled her onto your lap, wrapped her in a blanket and rocked her gently back and forth again as if she was the most precious thing you could hold in your arms.

"Shhh, let it all out, love," you whispered, gently wiping the tears from Maddie's cheeks. Your thumbs glided tenderly over her face, catching every tear. Maddie could see the warmth in your eyes, the infinite understanding that you saw through the pain. "You are safe here. Let go of the darkness of the past, there is only love for you here." your voice had a soft, soothing sound that wrapped protectively around her soul.

"I'm just so sick of it," Maddie whispered, feeling her voice break again. She sobbed, her hands clutching your shirt tightly. You continued to stroke her back gently, pulling her hands into your own and gently kissing each finger bone as if to soothe her. "Every time I think it's getting better, it all catches up with me again."

You felt her trying to suppress the feelings that were building up inside her. But you continued to hold her tightly, but gently, as if you wanted to show her that she wasn't alone.

You looked at Maddie with an intensity that touched her to the core. "I know, Maddie," you said, your eyes shining in the soft tone of the light as you looked deep into hers. "And I wish I could take all the pain for you. But what I can do is be here. Today, tomorrow - as long as you need me. I'll catch you as often as you need."

Your fingers gently stroked her cheeks, tracing the lines of her face as if they wanted to wipe away every trace of sorrow. You pulled her closer to you, kissed her cheek and gently brushed your lips over her ear. "You're strong, you know that? The fact that you've even come this far shows how much strength you have."

Maddie shook her head. "I feel anything but strong."

"But you are and it's okay not to feel that right now," you insisted and your hands slowly ran over her arms, your touch light as a gentle summer breeze. You felt the tremors that still ran through her body. "Let me help you," you said softly, taking a light breath, "by just being here. Today you don't have to do anything but lean on me."

Your fingertips traced her neck and shoulder before you leaned forward and pressed a soft and insistent kiss to her lips. "I want you to know that you can come to my apartment and to me whenever you need to. No matter how broken you feel, no matter how dark it gets inside you," your lips left a trace of warmth on hers again before you continued. "I am your refuge. Always."

In the silence that followed, Maddie felt lighter for the first time that day. She fell against you, completely sinking into your embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the familiarity of your closeness. She could feel the rhythm of your breathing, calm and even, and it was as if that rhythm was slowly pulling her along, stabilizing her own breathing.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, as her tears stopped and only the soft pounding of her heart remained, matching your heartbeat. You smiled and laid your head against hers. "I'll always be here for you, Maddie. Because you mean everything to me." You pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, your touch so soft, as if you wanted to drive away her sorrow.

"Let's just stay here," you finally whispered after a short pause. "We're not doing anything else. Just sitting here and being together until you feel better." You pulled the blanket tighter around the both of you and wrapped her in it more tightly. "I'll take care of you."

Maddie nodded, letting the calm and the feeling of security seep into her as she let herself fall, enveloping herself in the love and warmth. She knew that the demons in her head wouldn't go away so easily, that the memories of Doug and the burden of today wouldn't disappear with a single evening.

But here, in the arms of the person she loved, she could let go. The world around her could sink into darkness, but she knew she was safe here.

And that was enough.

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gabessquishytum · 11 months ago

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I blame this one on watching too many racing movies recently, but Racecar driver Hob and nepo-baby Team sponsor Dream.

Dream somehow (he suspects Desire) becomes the representative of the Endless Corporation for the racing team they sponsor. It is Dream’s idea of hell, large crowds, loud noises, fleeting seconds of action to watch directly, and then being expected to chat with others while watching the tv screens. He doesn’t know what is happening and doesn’t really care, and it shows. Sure, being in the luxury of the owners/sponsors box helps, but still he’d rather be anywhere else.

Dream eventually heads to the team’s garage with the excuse that he wants to listen to the race engineers and driver directly. Everybody in the garage is too busy doing their job to try and chat with him or pay him more attention than is needed to get him a headset and settled out of the way, so it’s perfect for Dream.

Robert “The Immortal” Gadling is the newest addition to the Endless racing team, so named because he has survived more on-track crashes and accidents than any other active driver, most of them weren’t even his fault. He always says the reaper is going to come for him in a car, so he might as well make it an interesting death. The press thinks he is just a thrill seeker chasing fame. In truth, he lost Robyn, Elanor, and the baby from being hit by a drunk driver while he was driving, and it haunts him. He wants to prove that he is the best driver, because if he is the best and he still lost his family in an accident, then no one else would have reacted faster or handled the car better.

Hob isn’t the best yet. He is always in the upper pack but hasn’t consistently broken onto the podium. He’s hoping this new team will be a chance to really show what he can do. Hob always has a running commentary going on the team comms no matter how long or intense the race is. People constantly have to break into his chatter to give him the information he needs about the car, his competition, or track conditions.

Dream is intrigued by this man who constantly jokes around while driving a heavy death machine around at break-neck speeds. They end up talking a few races later when after the race Dream stays long enough for Hob to notice a new face in the garage. Dream finds he enjoys having all that intense focus on him alone. Chats after the race become drinks out, then become dinner together. Soon, they are exploring the cities the races are in together when there is downtime. Eventually, they end up testing the structural integrity of Dream’s hotel’s beds as Hob sets out to prove that he is an athlete in peak shape thank you very much.

Poor Dream who has never had a healthy relationship in his life is insistent that what they have is a friends-with-benefits or fuckbuddy situation even though neither is looking elsewhere, they are always talking to each other and they’ve both shown each other the skeletons in their respective closets. Hob would like to call their relationship more but also knows his constant dance with death or at least serious injury is as good a reason as any for Dream to avoid any kind of commitment to him not counting both their emotional baggage.

Things come to a head when Hob is caught in a multi-car crash and is sent rolling into the center of the track where the car quickly catches fire. Dream pushes himself into the pack of people from the team following the first responders to the crash, hoping that the safety gear the team poured some of the sponsorship money into actually did something. He isn’t allowed on the medical helicopter when Hob is airlifted out, but he does set some speed records of his own getting to the hospital.

The safety equipment does its job and Hob will only have to miss a few races for recovery, but Dream is not letting Hob go one more day without formalizing their relationship because no one else gets Hob, not even Death. Hob’s memory of that first “I love you” is hazed by painkillers, but they exchange the words so many times during his hospital stay that he isn’t too worried about it.

When he is cleared to begin racing again Hob starts consistently placing on the podium and each time he makes sure his boyfriend gets caught in the champagne spray no matter how much Dream grumbles about the cost of cleaning his designer clothes. Years later, when Hob retires from being a driver so he can spend more time with his husband, he is considered the chattiest driver of all time, Dream listened to every single one of his races after all. He also incidentally will be remembered as one of the best drivers of his generation.

-💥

I know close to nothing about racing but omg I am so here for this!!! Driver Hob!!! Chatty, risky, charismatic driver Hob with a tragic backstory!! I love it, once again I can only thank you for honouring me with this mini fic <333

I love to imagine Hob doing press conferences and managing to turn every answer for every question into a rant about how amazing Dream is, he loves Dream so much, he never thought he'd be able to get to the top of his sport but Dream has given him the motivation. And Dream himself is standing at the back of the room desperately wishing that the floor would swallow him up <333

#💥 anon #the sandman #dreamling

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swordofsun · 10 months ago

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@scoobydoodean had been posting about 4x17 It's A Terrible Life and it's reminded me of one of my favorite overlooked bits in the episode and how it shows that Zachariah is just wrong about Dean.

Zachariah's whole theory with this little experiment is that Dean will choose hunting.

ZACHARIAH To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it.

But Dean has expressly denied hunting already at the end of the last act:

SAM Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be. DEAN No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo. SAM When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them? DEAN Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused— SAM Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital. DEAN Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on. SAM All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know—I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you. DEAN Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go. SAM leaves.

Sam tried to get Dean to drop everything and go hunting. They stopped a ghost! It was fun! They could do this, but Dean's not going to give up his life for it. Dean has no intention of turning his life upside down to start hunting and it's not until Zachariah lays out one of the most depressing 10 year plan ever:

ADLER Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way. DEAN Well, thanks. I try. ADLER I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you. DEAN takes off his headset. DEAN Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but... DEAN passes the paper back. DEAN I am giving my notice.

He's already the director of marketing and sales and his career plan is 10 years of nothing but work to make VP of a division? Probably a small division? Everyone would quit with that laid out. Maybe not as directly as Dean does, but yeah, they'd be going home and revamping the resume. That's a dead end career path you'd have to bust your ass and give up your life for.

Hearing that and going "hmm, maybe I take some time and check out that hunting thing with that Wesson guy. He was less creepy once we started working on the haunting, for the most part" is actually a pretty normal thing to do.

And really Zachariah doesn't even give him the chance to go find Sam. Because there's actually a good chance Dean gets home and after thinking about it he just updates his resume and LinkedIn. He had to give Dean back his memories in that exact moment in order to try and leverage the situation to his advantage.

Zachariah stacked the deck and still barely managed to get Dean to quit his job. Dean wasn't running to hunting with open arms. He was, at best, looking at it as a more viable option than the shitty 10 year plan Mr. Adler just laid out. And Zachariah couldn't wait for him to actually choose hunting, he had to strike before Dean could second guess himself.

(Even Sam is making the choice between IT support call center or ghost hunting. This isn't hard.)

4x17 Transcript

#supernatural #04x17 it's a terrible life

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gavisuntiedboot · 2 years ago

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Level 8000 (Gavi x Reader)

28 day writing prompt challenge - prompts are here

Day 6: Meeting for the first time

"Alright I'm going to get onto an online server. No one try to reach me for the next several hours."

Your roommates laughed at the warning as you slipped your headset on. You adjusted the ears, bringing the mic over your mouth, and settled back into the couch. Your hoodie and sweats swamped your form, providing maximum comfort for your gaming session. Were you a fantastic gamer? No. But had you fixated on two or three games for long enough to get good at specifically those games? Yes, yes you did. One of those games was FIFA. You had played all the events throughout the World Cup, in between the early morning matches, and late at night when your 7pm Redbull kept you up until the early hours.

This binge playing over your winter break, as well as the game events, lead to you having a crazy stacked team. You had a super high Neymar as your front man, meaning that as long as you got the ball in the last 1/3 of the field, you were almost guaranteed to score. When all your real life friends had grown tired of you winning 7-0, you turned to PS online. People on the internet were ruthless. You played against stacked teams, losing your first dozen matches. But as you practiced and upgraded your players (as well as googling some good team formations), you started to win. Your win-loss ratio improved immensely with the addition of one piece of equipment: headphones with a mic. You started to join the voice chat, and the sound of a woman sent these poor gamer boys into a frenzy, allowing you to score two goals before they could recover.

Now it was your escape. You loved the power of overwhelming men just by saying "good luck", and the profanities that followed when you won. Tonight was no different. You had already beaten four different whiny men, and had tied a game with another girl on the voice chat, who practically squealed with delight when she heard the sound of your voice. Now it was time for match number 6 of the night, and you were sufficiently warmed up, ready to destroy.

[Opponent] - 6avira30

You smiled, thinking to yourself 'Awe, a Gavi fanboy. I wonder if he has him in midfield." The audio connected, and you heard a couple different male voices yell at each other in Spanish.

"Hello?" You said softly into the mic. Couldn't have them think you were anything other than a soft uwu girl using her boyfriend's account. The voices stopped suddenly, with a long pause before the reply: "Are you a girl?" You laughed at the question. It was not the first time you had gotten it, but the utter confusion in the boy's voice caught you off guard. "Yeah, I am. Hurry up and lock in your team so we can start the match." "Ay, be patient. My great strategic mind needs time to work."

You groaned into the mic. These "strategists" often were the most annoying people to play with, and often the one calling you a cheater or a bot or saying that your "man" was playing while you were on the mic. You locked in the same team you always used, and waited for the great mastermind to lock in his squad. The match began a minute later, and you were not surprised to see it was mostly Barca players, old and new.

"Wow a Xavi-Iniesta midfield. It's been a minute since I've seen that." You said, trying to get the ball across the center line.

"They're the best duo in the world. Everyone should have them in the middle." The boy replied, harshly attacking all your midfielders. It had been a while since you encountered someone who played this aggressively, but it was interesting enough to get you to sit up straight.

"Really? Given your tag, I thought you would have Pedri and Gavi in the middle."

The boy got quiet at this, the statement clearly catching him off guard. It was the lapse in focus that you needed, getting the ball to your super-charged Neymar, and slamming a goal in from outside the box.

"What the actual fuck was that?" A yell came in from the other side. You laughed freely now. This was a fun match. You were being challenged in the middle of the field, really having your defense tested. The boy kept you entertained online, asking all the typical questions about how you got so good. The match ended 3-1 to you, and you were about to say goodbye when a notification popped up on your screen.

[6avira30] - Rematch Requested

"You want to play against me again? One loss wasn't enough?"

"I'm not going to lose again. I just have to recalibrate the squad."

You continued playing against the same opponent for 7 or 8 matches in a row, the conversation moving from the game to your lives.

"So you've never been to a football match in person? How is that possible? You live in Barcelona!"

"I'm a university student who is struggling to pay my rent. I don't have the time or money to buy tickets. Well, at least the tickets that I want."

"Well, what tickets do you want?"

"I want the ones that are right up on the field, so at the end of the game I can ask Lewy for his shirt at the end?"

"Lewandowski? Not one of the younger players?"

"Nah, everyone is always yelling for Gavi's shirt. And while it would be nice to see Gavi or Pedri shirtless, I feel like if I was ever lucky enough to get one of their shirts, my life would be in danger. So I would rather get a shift from DILF Lewy."

A loud laugh came in through your headphones. The boy yelled at his friend in the room, "She just called Robert a DILF."

At the end of the match (a 2-1 win for you), it was time to log off. You informed your online partner, bidding him a good night.

"Wait wait, before you get off, could you send your number in the chat? It's fine if not but I'd really like to talk to you again."

"My number? Why not just my Instagram?"

"I... Can't really follow you on Instagram. It's kind of complicated."

You sent him your number and logged off, going to bed with a stupid smile on your face. A boy had asked for your number. Could he be a weirdo in his mom's basement? Absolutely. But you could find that out later.

You woke up to a text that read: Hope you slept well - Lindo from PS Live. The stupid smile stuck to your face all day. For the next two weeks, you texted this boy almost every waking moment. You could not get enough of him, despite the fact that you couldn't get him to tell you his name.

[PS Live Boy]: Want to have coffee with me tomorrow?

The text set the butterflies in your stomach free, the fluttering feeling spreading to every cell in your body. You has said yes embarrassingly fast. He texted you the location: a pretty upscale coffee shop in the shopping district. Like 17 euro black coffee upscale. You now jumped up and down like a giddy school girl - PS Live boy had money.

You walked into the place, the hostess looking over your skirt and sweater with a sickly sweet smile, asking who you were supposed to be there with. PS Live boy had left the table under your name as to maintain his shroud of mystery. You sat at the table, reapplying your lip gloss and checking your hair in the camera of your phone.

[PS Live boy]: you can't freak out when you see me

[PS Live boy]: Because then I would have to leave and block your number

[PS Live boy]: and file a restraining order. and i dont want to do that

You let out a nervous breath, smiling at your screen. Usually when men said not to freak out, it was because they were ugly. The hostess that didn’t like you walked over to the table again, closely followed by someone in a hoodie, hood pulled up to cover their face. She pulled out a chair, and your PS Live boy sat in front of you. He thanked the hostess, before turning back you you and pulling his hood off.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Gavi looked at you with a cheeky smile playing on his lips. You were overwhelmed. Pablo mf Gavi had met you on PS live and liked you, asked for you number, and was now here on a date with you.

“Three weeks of being mysterious was worth the look on your face.”

“As Spain’s youngest player on the national team, how are you so shit at FIFA?”

“Okay okay okay, let’s go back to you being surprised and not talk about me getting my ass kicked 8 times in a row. Pedri still makes fun of me?”

“Dang Pedri was there? I should’ve asked for his number instead.”

“You have me leveled up to like 8000 in FIFA. I know you want to be here with me.”

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

A/N: this was supposed to be done last night but I fell asleep lol. I love the idea of Gavi being kinda cheeky and self confident. Most talented young boys are (because society inflates their egos). Anyways, see y’all later tonight w day 7!!

#gavi #pablo gavi #gavi x reader #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x you #pablo gavi imagine #fc barca #footballer imagine #gavi imagine #barca #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi fluff #pablo gavi fluff

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usedpidemo · 2 years ago

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Delete this.vol sixteen.

In an apartment deep in the city, there’s a constant ringing of a doorbell. It chimes for several minutes, but its occupant doesn’t open the door—not even once. Much to the neighbors annoyance, it’s not because the person isn’t around, but rather completely oblivious to it. His ears are covered by the sound of constant profanities and commands booming in haphazard waves over the headset, louder than the rapid fire gunshots being shot on screen.

“Christ! Go left! Go left!” Someone yells over voice chat, foreign and rough sounding, capable of grating even the most mild mannered person, yet it doesn't faze him in the slightest. His eyes remain intently fixed to the screen, almost bursting out from staring for hours and hours. Meanwhile, his fingers mash on the controller reflexively, like it’s muscle memory to him now.

“I got you! I got you.” He replies, looking calm, but his voice presents heightened urgency. Even with their best efforts, it’s a struggle to gain an edge over the enemy team. Occasionally, there’s a deafening scream of frustration or a swear, blaming someone on their own squad—him included—or server lag, which happens often. He’s not innocent in the matter either; in one instance he gets headshot from behind, and he fires off an emphatic curse too, punching his fist in the air out of rage.

“Fuck!” He shouts as the enemy team’s points continue to jump higher, and the gap between them expands. There’s not much time left. A loss is all but guaranteed at this point. Still, he and the others play out the remaining time, even with the awareness that the match is practically over.

The game ends in a resounding victory for the enemy squad. It isn’t even close. If this was a championship or official tournament game, they’d get clowned on by the internet.

He takes off his headset, only to hear the sound of the doorbell that has been pestering him and the rest of the apartment for a while, to his complete ignorance. He quickly puts it back on to get a quick word to his teammates, saying, “Someone’s knocking on my door. Go and start the next one without me.”

He walks to the front door, rubbing a hand on his hunched back, curious as to who could be knocking. Certainly not his neighbors, he theorizes, since he’s using a headset to cut down the loud gaming setup that bothered them before. He hasn’t ordered anything online lately either, so that’s out of the question too. Then for a moment, he realizes something.

Could it be her?

Upon realizing the absurdity of that thought, he shakes his head in denial; after that fateful night, he has never heard from her ever since. Why would she randomly come calling on his doorstep again?

He doesn’t realize the ringing of the doorbell has suddenly stopped. When he opens the door, he doesn’t find anyone standing outside, or anywhere in the hallway for that matter. However, there’s a small, wrapped box set on the floor inches away. Piqued by curiosity, he leans his head down to see a small note attached to it. His name is written on the paper in presumably red ink, dripping and leaking down to the sealed present.

“It’s not my birthday today,” he comments, picking up the mysterious gift without asking anyone or checking with anyone before closing the door. He walks to the living room, slowly unwrapping the enigmatic box along the way. As he gets acquainted with the box, he notes its unusual texture, but doesn’t seem concerned overall. He lifts the lid to find a second note with an item attached on it: a pink metallic flower in the shape of a cherry blossom.

At its center, a red dot starts to blink. He rips the note off the strange object, then flips the paper around to see a new message, written in the same red ink like the first one.

“Tell him I said hi!” - M.S.

His eyes widen in shock, then he turns his gaze back to the metallic flower, now with a second blinking red dot on its core. Realizing what it actually is, he immediately tosses it away from him, with a deep, panicked shout.

Piece by piece, the metals disintegrate and cause a huge explosion. The sheer power and force of the blast sends him flying back until he crashes against the wall, rendering him temporarily unconscious. A huge hole forms in his apartment and the flats surrounding it, both on the upper and lower floors. Smoke begins to gush out from where the bomb blew up, while objects in his room are either set ablaze or destroyed.

Several minutes later, he regains consciousness, coughing hoarsely from the dust from being buried in wood and brick. He squints his eyes, trying to regain his sight. Everywhere he turns, there’s the open city—with winds blowing in all directions—completely uncovered by the violent detonation. He looks at the aftermath in utter disbelief, unable to comprehend what exactly is going on.

A sudden electric whir steals his attention, then a new sight grips him with awe and fear. A woman covered in a long cloak rests on a floating hovercraft right outside his wrecked apartment, glaring back at him with a wicked smirk on her lips and with deceptively alluring eyes.

“You did this?” he blurts out with a tone meshed with both fright and shock.

“I hope you enjoyed my little gift,” she replies, tauntingly. She playfully looks at her darkened nails, relishing the damage she has caused. “This is just a warm up for the real treat.”

“What treat?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

With a confident, devilish grin, she turns her airborne machine around and flies away, her baleful, comical laughter echoing up to the sky. As she leaves, she casually drops a few more flower bombs, triggering several explosions on more buildings in the city. Waves of smoke rise, one after another, and mass hysteria ensues on the ground while she soars off to parts unknown.

—————

…

“Jeez.”

That was the only thing Eunbi could say after you told her everything, down to the most excruciating detail. The shoot, the gangbang, the subsequent sex in the dressing room—everything. Well, not exactly everything; there’s the part where you can tell by Hyewon’s tone that she has some kind of contempt for her and Yena, but you’d rather deal with that later.

“Yeah, well she said hi by the way,” you add quietly into your phone’s microphone, staring at your friend through the screen, who’s smiling on the opposite end, nodding along.

“But, it’s good then that she now knows.” Eunbi’s soft voice—a warm, comforting contrast to the coldness of Hyewon—answers you back, partially altered by bits of static due to poor communications. “I managed to get in touch with Yena. I’ll meet with her soon.”

“Really?” Your eyes light up at the positive results of her mission, and your inflection shows hope and excitement. “Where’d you find her?”

“Busan. Annoyingly, I’ve had to ditch the car at the terminal. My ass ain’t driving for four hours, plus traffic’s a thing. Gas prices suck.” Eunbi redirects her camera away from her sun-kissed face, redirecting it toward the other passengers aboard the train, mostly on their phones and minding their own business.

“That far?” You’re surprised that Yena has managed to travel a long way overnight. “I hope she can actually meet you as soon as possible.”

“Yeah. Otherwise this would be a stupid waste of train tickets.” She grumbles, rolling her eyes in annoyance at the additional expenses, eliciting a small laugh out of you. “Anyway, I’m about to get off in two stops.”

“What do I do now?” you ask, worried about those thoughts slowly haunting you. Briefly look over your shoulder, and find nothing but the pale white walls of the dressing room, dreading Hyewon prematurely returning from her shoot. She’ll probably flash a friendly smile or two if she sees Eunbi, but you know it’s only a mask, a facade to hide her true feelings.

“Do what?” Eunbi twists an eyebrow, while her lips curl into a frown. “Something wrong? You look nervous all of a sudden.”

Her words pass through deaf ears, as more of your worries bother you. It’s only when she modulates your name again that you snap out of your confused state.

“Hey!” She shouts, with her features turning dourer. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, stumbling through such an easy word like you’ve forgotten how to pronounce it, visibly affected in some shape or form. When you return your eyes to her, your brain starts functioning like it should. “I’ll be fine. I’m just anxious about her.”

“Mm, don’t worry. We’ve learned our lesson the first time, and we won’t let our guards down again,” says Eunbi with great confidence, like failure’s an impossibility, and it’s faith you wish you had too. “I’ll be going now. Take care, love.”

“Yeah. You too.” Wave goodbye to her from your side while she makes a kissy face on the screen. Then the call ends.

Hopping off the stained couch where you fucked Hyewon, you quietly waddle over to the dressing room’s door, stick your head out to see what’s going on. It’s dead silent; not one of the male models are on set, and the props remain untouched in the center of the room, directly in front of the lone camera placed on the tripod.

“They’ve already left.” The cold, feminine voice echoes deeply in your ear, shattering the illusion of silence in the room.

“What the?” Look around panickedly, only to catch Hyewon right beside you, watching you with crossed arms, somehow avoiding your line of sight the whole time—or that you’re caught up in your own tunnel vision again.

“Were you looking to see if I was getting railed by those boys a second time?” she asks, placing a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder with a playful, toying pout on her freshly puckered lips. “I thought I would never rub off on you.”

Much to your chagrin, you lift your head back, sighing. “God, Hyem, this isn’t time for jokes.”

She’s widely smiling, looking more arrogant and vain than ever, like she’s completely oblivious of the situation. Of course, she’s much smarter than that. “Lighten up, baby. You weren’t this anxious and tense when you were fucking me and Yena shamelessly.”

“That was—different,” you say, choking that last word out, the wobbliness in your tone selling you out.

“Different how?” Hyewon’s hands are all over your shoulders, turning your body to face hers, locking eyes together like there’s an unbreakable connection between you two. Before you know it, she has you pinned against the wall, smirking and quietly giggling, trapping you deeper with those chestnut pupils. “This is no different to what we did back then, what we did now, and what we’ll do again, and again, and again.”

She kisses you, soft and gently, like what she’s done so many times, and yet you fall for it every single time. From your collarbones to your chin, eventually those lush pink lips meet yours, and she slips her tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste her sweetness abundantly. You’ll never verbally admit, but you’d never grow tired of her, no matter how much you try to resist. In fact, she’s rubbed off on you and it’s impossible to remove that familiarity, especially when she tastes so good.

“Haven’t—you—had—enough?” You mumble into her mouth as she continues to make out with you, humming sweet music into your lips. A pointless question, given how passionate she is when it comes to kissing you, and how her nails are marking into your shirt in an attempt to get rid of it once more. If she could tear it to pieces, she absolutely would.

Affirming this, she cups your face with urgency, then pulls you further into the kiss, as if you’re not drowning under her love ocean already. “Fuck no.”

In the middle of another sudden makeout session, you’re back to square one again. Lift the black shirt over her head to expose her creamy, nakedness in all her full glory. She does the same to yours in return; now your clothes are back on the floor before you’re at the mercy of each other’s lips again. It’s a repetitive cycle, but it never fails to spark a raging fire of lust and desire between you both.

Perhaps you needed this—something and someone to jog your memories through pleasant times before things went south, when everything was simple and it was all beautiful. You’re wiser now, but Hyewon’s body serves as a reminder of what you had, and what you lost. She’s still in the past, hungry and fiending for what you both shared, but you’re long past that, ready to move forward, but right as you’re about to cross that line, she drags you back, unwilling to let you go.

Maybe it’s her, but in actuality, it’s you. After all, you’re allowing her to peel through your pants and boxers, allowing her free use of your cock like it’s her property every time.

You utter a strained moan as her fingers slide down your body, to that treasured possession of a cock, stroking you hard with intricate precision, perfectly done with all the experience she has with your shaft. Her eyes keep you magnetized, staring at you with the same wave of passion she’s had for you since you first met. At first, the pumps are quick and unrelenting, but soon switch to slow and emphatic. The further she goes, the more pleasure she seeps from you, making sure your entire figure shudders with each jerk of your cock.

“Relax. This will make you feel better. Trust me.” Hyewon delivers each word with sultry conviction, it eases you into a vivid, hypnotic state and relinquishes more control to her. She jerks you into creating deeper, needier groans, and when you say her name with such breathless, suffocating force, it’s heaven to her ears.

“F-fuck, Hyem—” Another stroke, another moan. Your eyes roll deep into the back of your skull, head twisted and bent in an uncanny position due to the overwhelming ecstasy coursing throughout your body. Your hands grip onto her tiny waist for support as she continues to pump you, tease you, and remind you of what you had.

“Yes, that’s it. Moan for me,” she says, like she’s commanding you, and you’re more than willing to comply. Your jaw slacks wide, producing prolonged groan after groan, like you’re a babbling child with no words to call your own. Your senses have gone completely numb, with every muscle in your body slowly falling apart, as Hyewon watches on with a giggle and an effervescent smile—a stark contrast to the lewd act she’s performing on you.

“My god, Hyewon.” Your hand, carefully led and guided by her graceful motions, find their way back to her meaty flesh, recapturing the sensitive, taut bud on her chest. Through glazed eyes, you capture flashes of Hyewon’s constantly evolving expressions, body quivering from the tight sensation you have on her. “So—fucking—hot.”

She rolls her head back, fluttery eyes drawing themselves shut as your fingers explore her bountiful chest, relishing in familiar but warm, arousing pleasures. “God, you should have seen their faces.”

“Hm?”

“They didn’t know I was getting fucked so hard already,” she says, and though it’s not directly implied, the words are enough to make your heart jump and your ego fly. Her hand is no longer on your stiff cock, rather going up and down on your back, leaving marks to let everyone know who you belong to. “Let’s just say they don’t ever want to see me again.”

“Good,” you whisper, leaving another poignant kiss on her intoxicating lips. “I—I didn’t like those guys one bit.”

“Scared that they were giving me good dick?” Her eyes swing open, directly meeting yours with an inviting and inescapable stare. You bend her downward, lifting a leg up to your waist like you’re in the middle of a fiery dance. “They were never enough to satisfy me compared to yours.”

It’s difficult to tell if it's sincerity or flattery—maybe both; you never know when it comes to Hyewon. But the words slice through your inhibitions and pierce right through your loins, and you’re falling for her enticing spell, and it’s like you’ve never learnt your lesson at all.

Take her back to the dressing room couch, the same one you railed her on half an hour ago, and you’re tangled up in circles with her again. Wrapping her slender legs around her waist, you flip her around, face down on the stained mattress, and slip the rest of her partly soiled undergarments off her. Her cunt is leaking, dripping with thick, gooey liquid, presumably from the guys she’s modeling with.

It should have raised red flags, but you’re not surprised. You’ve fucked her in twice, and she’s taken more cock from anyone in such a short timespan that it’s much more of a surprise she hasn’t been knocked up or passed out. Still, you set your sights on the prize that is her wrecked, stretched out pussy, intent to ruin her more than ever before.

“Nobody’s around now, give it to me hard—fuck!” Hyewon cries out loudly as you push yourself into her wet, inviting warmth, finding her tight, needy, and ready as she’s always been. Even when you’ve pounded her before, this scream is the loudest one she’s produced, as if she was previously holding back.

“I don’t want slow love making, baby. Please fuck me hard and fast and—aaah!” Without a second’s hesitation, you sink deep into her suffocating heat, cutting her sentence off. It was never on your mind, anyway. The idea of passionate, intimate sex was Hyewon’s least favorite kind. You were so used to high tempo, quick and tiresome fucking that it’s almost second nature to pump your cock deep in her womb without care for her comfort or yours.

The force and speed you pound Hyewon from behind severs all forms of communication between you. She’s reduced to a moaning, shouting mess, occasionally muffled by the flimsy couch her face is planted on. Otherwise, she’s crying out in rising crescendos, letting off an occasional swear. But when she whines out your name, you reward her by stroking faster than your hips permit, much to the soreness of your muscles, holding her shoulder in your palm and her stem in the other.

Surely by now, everyone inside the building has been made aware of your presence, if the cameras haven’t exposed you already. It’s been an hour and you should have been forced out, yet you’re in there, balls deep inside their model’s tight, stifling cunt. But you can’t stop, nor do you ever plan to—not when Hyewon’s perfectly sculpted body is jiggling and shaking violently because of you, and she’s so blissfully intoxicated, echoing your name out so proudly.

Even as your heavy legs begin to wobble, imploring you to slow down lest they break, you continue slamming your hips into her, spurred on by the silky, satisfying claps made by your flesh slapping against hers. If only the room-filling mirror in her dressing room was a few inches lower. For now, you’ll settle with her euphoric cries of pleasure and the brisk quivers of her figure held in your grasp.

It’s in the little things she does: her well-manicured nails tearing through the thin, weak fabric of the couch, the complete weakness and lack of resistance as she falls deeper to her pleasure, and the sudden patheticness of her moans that fills the once raucous room, with your smacks of skin now the loudest thing in the whole place. “So—close—”

Two words are all she can muster before she goes quiet once more, leaving the rest entirely in your control. You’re struggling too; the heat between her legs is turning more intense by the second, and you’re a few loose screws away from another deep orgasm inside her. It’s so difficult to even avert your gaze from the splayed, naked goddess that is Hyewon, weak back arches, steady body ripples, and all. She may not be directly watching you, but she can certainly feel that you’re hesitating and second guessing what to do.

Even without her direction, you know anything less than a load in her cunt would be a death sentence. As your eventual climax creeps in, you lay your head besides hers, take in the strange fusion of sex, sweat, and perfume she’s wearing. Kiss the side of her neck as you give her another surge of thrusts, sloppily soaking up her creamy flesh with a vibrant, satisfied hum. It’s the closest you can get to passionate love making with her before she calls you out for being too soft.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so damn tight, angel.” You whisper gentle moans in her ear, nibbling her skin while you lift her head slightly. Through the waves of dark hair concealing her face, you catch a little glimpse of the slightest toothy smile on her features, enjoying every moment getting railed as much as you do. “I can’t believe how much of a slut you are, still needy for my cum after getting so much already.”

“Cum in me, then.” Hyewon purrs weakly, hoarsely, using two fingers to brush aside some of the hair obstructing her view. One half-lidded stare is enough to hook your attention. “Give this slutty angel of yours all that hot, gooey cum that I oh-so fucking want.”

You were practically crawling to your orgasm, but the last sentence was the push needed to send you over the edge. Call it a well-timed coincidence or part of a plan, right as your legs stumble forward, you come through with one more thrust that causes your mind to go blank. Your palms cling to whatever flesh they can hold impulsively, like your body’s on lock, as a surge of hotness fills your loins. Your mouth groans, but nothing’s verbalizing.

For the next few minutes, maybe longer—much longer—you slump atop Hyewon, resting your head beside hers as the room goes dead silent. It’s such an awkward position you’re both tangled up in; such a knot is usually designated for blacked out drunkards rather than two people partaking in sex. Forget that you’re in a dressing room and all; it feels like you’re both in bed, like you used to be.

—————

“You make no fucking sense.”

None of this makes any sense to you, either. One look at your phone and it’s already half past five. You haven’t seen the sun since you entered the building but you’re sure it’s already gone. Where did the past two hours go? The last thing you remember before passing out is lying next to Hyewon on the couch, which has become completely non washable at this point. Now she’s on the floor, on her knees, with your drenched cock sandwiched between her breasts, just as wet and full of warm, sticky cum.

Her voice demands your attention. Her gaze also demands your attention. One wrong look, one wrong move, and she will snap your dick in half between her tits. With strength you have regained, you choose to do the right thing and follow her every motion.

“So, are we a thing again?” you ask, flatly.

“Up to you,” replies Hyewon, slightly tilted. Your cock sinks deep between her cleavage, then reemerges slicker than before. “I—I couldn’t care less if you fucked Eunbi again after this.”

Though she says otherwise, it’s clear that she’s bothered by your interactions with your former lovers—who wouldn’t be when their lover is speaking with their exes and other potential suitresses—and her tone couldn’t be more apparent. “I know, I know,” she adds, pining, “You’re sick of me. Sick of all of this. If that’s how you feel, then go ahead.”

“That’s not it,” you say, frowning. “It’s—It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“Complicated? Great excuse. Definitely have not heard that a thousand times before.” Hyewon’s snarky tone rubs you the wrong way; she’s becoming too difficult and insufferable at the worst time imaginable.

You can’t bear to hide your feelings any longer. “Well how can I say it isn’t? Tell me who’s the one always fucking five guys behind my back?”

Suddenly, she rises up from the floor, towers above you, weakly slouched against the couch. It takes every fiber of restraint in her not to slap you. It’s a trigger to her; she never really questioned the long-term consequences of her behaviors, always running from one man to another when it happens.

“Tell me who’s the one allowing it to happen in the first place. You were supposed to be my boyfriend, right? How come you never acted like it?”

Without another word, she walks off, with tears forming in her eyes, and leaves you alone, with nothing but fatigue, and something to think about.

Suddenly, your phone beeps. One glance and it’s a text message from a forgotten friend—Hong Jaein. Your eyes widen as you look at the contents, and you can’t help but mutter an audible, “Oh God.”

Pictures of his apartment, completely in tatters, plus a written note in his hand saying:

> “Tell him I said hi.” - M.S.

(We're back! Expect one more chapter before the year ends. Again, I wanted to do more experimental stuff before returning to the series. Still not really sure how this will properly translate, but hopefully it's a good reflection of what I've been doing over the past few months. Hong Jaein is the name of the OC from that one filler/side chapter, and he's suddenly caught up in this mess too. Imagine the awkwardness when the protagonist finds out Hyewon's had one with him too. Yikes.)

#smut #kpop smut #izone #hyewon #kang hyewon

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dailydragon08 · 2 years ago

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Avalanche

Pairings: Will “Ironhead” Miller x DeltaForce!Reader (gender neutral) Warnings: descriptions of canon-typical violence (a stab wound), cursing, and mentions of cocaine. Summary: Will you and the rest of the team survive the infamous helicopter crash, and how far will Will’s over-protectiveness go? A/N: let me know if you’d be interested in this becoming a series/more fics in this verse!

The steady whump-whump-whump of the helicopter’s blades almost lulled you to sleep. You glanced out the window at the snow-capped mountains before returning your attention to the others. Frankie and Tom sat in the cockpit while Santi and Benny settled against the bench seats. Will was stretched out between you and Benny, his back leaning against the wall awkwardly.

You watched as Pope stood and made his way to the cockpit before letting your headset fall around your shoulders to give your ears a break. You blew out a harsh, slow breath and let your head fall against the wall while Benny followed Pope. A little grunt escaped you as Fish raised your altitude and your ears popped.

Will took his headset off his ears and leaned his back against your shoulder, turning so his mouth was directly in front of your ear. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “Ears are just popping.”

“Mine, too.” He rotated more to look at you and you could feel yourself drowning in his baby blues. He stared back with just as much intensity and something unspoken passed between you like it always did. You and Will had always been the most similar out of the group. It had created a bond between you that felt different than your relationship with the others. You two could read each other with just a look—something you’d been able to do since you’d first met when you both joined Delta Force. He’d been the only one who hadn’t immediately doubted your skills because of your smaller frame and youth and always treated you like the accomplished, capable soldier you were. You’d saved his neck multiple times, just like he’d saved yours. After retiring, you’d stayed in the same town and became practically inseparable. Even through failed relationships, fights, and PTSD episodes, you were there thick and thin.

You hadn’t realized precisely what shape your friendship took in the center of your chest until a few hours ago when Will’s strained voice called, “I’ve been hit.” The red that tinted his hands had your heart trying to scramble out of your throat and the first words in your mind were I love you. Now a war waged in your head over whether to say something before you really did lose him and knowing this was nowhere near the opportune moment.

“How’s your side?” you asked, returning to the moment. You had to shout in his ear to be heard over the noise of the chopper.

“I’m okay…How’s your leg?”

You glanced down at your own bloody, bandaged mess. One of Lorea’s men had stabbed you in the leg and although it wasn’t deep, another of his cronies had pushed you over the banister of the stairwell with the first man’s hand still on the hilt. You’d dragged him down with you, but it had also dragged the blade, and he’d nearly skinned half your leg before falling to the floor below. Will had insisted on bandaging it for you and helping you walk. He’d even tried to carry you a few times, but had stopped at your protests as he groaned and stumbled under the weight of both you and his gunshot wound. “Throbbing,” you answered honestly, “but I’ll live.”

“When we land, I wanna look at it. Make sure it isn’t getting infected.”

You nodded and silence fell over the pair of you again. Something had shifted in his gaze—it felt softer, more private. He’d always looked at you affectionately (and earlier, he’d looked at your leg terrified), but this felt…different. You weren’t sure how to describe it and wondered if he felt the same avalanche of feelings you did. There couldn’t have been a worse time to realize you were in love with your best friend, but you felt the weight of it tumble down and bury you too quickly for you to resist. There was a new depth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before that felt like finally finding air after almost drowning and you clung to it.

Will suddenly swung his legs to the ground and scooted closer to you on the bench. He threw a glance at the cockpit and you followed his gaze. Pope and Benny were still distracted by whatever Fish was telling them. You were about to put your headset back on to see what they were saying when you felt something gently brush against your pinky finger. You glanced at your hand resting on your thigh to see Will’s pinky gently brushing against you. When you risked a look at his eyes, there was a longing and nervousness you’d never seen before and it made your heart flutter. When you didn’t pull away, he let his fingers gently swipe over the back of your hand. You’d watched—and helped—him use crushing strength in missions countless times. His fingers now brushed you like both you and the moment were made of glass that he was desperate not to shatter.

The desperation in his eyes and the hard clench of his jaw had you gently tangling your fingers with his. Before you could turn your hand to fully hold his, the chopper rattled and shook around you. Frankie bellowed, “Lose the money or we’re all gonna die!”

Pope and Benny rushed towards the back as you and Will stood.

“We’ll get it!” Will shouted as he pulled the lever to open the back doors. The two of you shoved several duffel bags out the back. Frankie had warned you that there would be a weight problem and while you felt a pang of sadness at seeing the money go, you’d like to return home in one piece with all of your brothers—especially Will. You had a feeling conversations needed to be had after all this was over.

With the pile of duffel bags cut in half, Pope yelled, “I’ll go check!”

Will ushered you back over to the bench to sit next to him. Benny returned to his spot by his brother’s side as you gripped the handrail. Will gripped his own in one hand, the other hand slung over your torso to hold you in place like a seatbelt, his hand fisting in your shirt as the helicopter suddenly plummeted.

“What the fuck are you doing, Catfish?!” Will screamed beside you, pulling you closer against his side. His arm bent awkwardly in an attempt to keep you safe and you let your fingers finally tangle with his as your heart pounded in your chest. He squeezed your hand as your world bobbed and tilted with the falling helicopter.

Frankie screamed something about an external load release you couldn’t fully hear without your headset. “Pull the lever, Ben!” Pope yelled.

The chopper shifted as the lever came down, but you could still feel it falling. You quickly slipped out of Will’s hold to open the hatch in the floor. You could feel his hand grabbing for you as he yelled, “wait!”

You gave him a reassuring glance as he dropped his arm, looking at you with concern. You grunted with the effort it took to open the trapdoor and felt your stomach drop at the bag still attached to the cable. “It didn’t work!” you yelled.

After a long moment of listening through the headset, Pope said, “Fish says there’s a manual override on the cargo hook.”

Will seemed to sense that you were about to swing your legs out and launched forward to hold your waist. He pulled you against him with a crushing grip, despite your protests. His concern warmed you, but this was your job, damn it. If this was what him liking you back meant, you weren’t sure if you were a fan of that particular development.

“Let me through!” Benny demanded as he carefully lowered his legs outside. Will pushed you behind him and gripped his brother’s shirt hard.

A moment later, you heard the clang of the release and fell back as the chopper surged upwards, free of its ball and chain. You only wished you could get rid of the burden as easily; this job was quickly becoming not worth the risk.

Will scrambled up from where he’d fallen next to you and reached out to Benny, who had now fallen all the way through the hatch and was barely holding onto the opening with his fingertips. “Benny!”

“I’ve gotta jump!” you heard him call. He screamed as Will called his name again, swiping futilely for him.

The chopper hit the ground so hard it rattled your teeth before bouncing back up and slamming down again. The world spun in a circle outside the windows, and you grabbed onto the bench from your seat on the floor to steady yourself. Not even a second later, Will was by your side, hauling you against him and burying his face in your neck. You heard his hand slap down on the bench beside you in an attempt to find his footing. You wanted to say something—anything—but the roar of the failing engines, blades, and alarms drowned everything out.

Just as Will finally made some progress with his feet and began to lift you with him, the whole world tilted with a metallic groan. Will quickly turned so he landed back-first to cushion your fall and held you so tight, you could hardly breathe. You clung to him just as hard as you felt the giant piece of machinery spin in a circle a few more times before the telltale whine of the engines dying and the blades snapping off punctuated the cacophony.

The ringing in your ears almost drowned out Will’s harsh breath. You were panting just as hard and still clinging to him like a life preserver. You let out a ragged breath before lifting your head to find his eyes. He was bleeding badly from the head and blood trickled down the side of his face. You gently traced the edge of it with your thumb. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. His own hand came up to trace your jaw and you winced at the unexpected sting. When he brought his hand back, there was blood on it as well. “Are you?”

“I think so—”

“Are you two okay?” Pope asked in a rushed breath as he scrambled over to you.

You both nodded and you took his hand to help you up. Will’s hand stayed clenched around your shirt as you pulled him up. Santi grunted as he yanked the side door open above him and Will took his moment of distraction to tilt his forehead against yours. You released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you squeezed his fingers.

“You first,” he said, gesturing to the open door. He bent his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Your side—”

“I’m okay,” he said in a strained voice. He grunted slightly as he lifted you towards the opening.

You found purchase and yanked yourself up with your hands, hissing as your injured leg brushed against the doorframe. You carefully lifted yourself to sit on top as Benny pulled a bleary Fish and Tom through the shattered windshield. Donkeys brayed in the small village in the distance as several people climbed onto the net with all your bounty. Your heart physically hurt as the sun flashed off what you assumed were several knives.

“They’re cutting into the fucking net,” Fish muttered from below as Santi popped up beside you. He laid a comforting hand on your shoulder before sliding down the chopper.

Will appeared by your side with a grunt and you helped yank him the rest of the way through the door. Surveying the ground below, you weren’t sure how you would make that drop with your leg as it was. Maybe if you rolled to land on your side—

“What’s the plan here?” Santi asked.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Benny cried, rushing forward as Will slid to the ground, landing on his knees hard and holding his hip.

Benny stared at his brother briefly, hands hovering over him before turning to you and holding out a hand.

You began to reach for him when Will quickly stood and grabbed Benny’s arm. “Here, let me.” Something passed between them before the younger Miller nodded and turned his attention to Tom. Will held out his arms for you, and you slid forward to slot your waist between them. You laid your hands on his muscled and veined forearms and clenched your teeth in anticipation of the landing to come.

“I won’t let you fall,” Will said quietly. “Come on.”

You nodded before gingerly sliding down. True to his word, Will caught your waist just a foot off the ground before tenderly lowering you to stand beside him. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your hip bones and you let out a shuddery breath as you stared at each other, completely lost.

“That’s cocaine they’re growing,” Tom’s voice pulled you out of your trance, “so they may have weapons trained on us from there and there.”

“Thanks, Ironhead,” you muttered with a small smile, giving Will a gentle pad on the chest.

He gave you a grin in return, his eyes soft. “Anything for you, darlin’.”

Your heart fluttered as you turned your focus to Tom’s plan. Since you were both injured, you and Will stayed by the chopper, but he made sure to stick close to your side. You didn’t want to stray too far from his either. Benny and Fish disappeared into the brush while Tom and Santi headed towards the villagers gathered around the net. Black smoke from the crash piled into the air, clouding the blue sky that reminded you so much of Will’s eyes, and you coughed as it infiltrated your lungs. Will gently rubbed your back, letting his hand slide down your shoulder and arm to gently squeeze your hand. You squeezed back and sighed, praying you’d both get home in one piece.

#triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #william ironhead miller imagines #william ironhead miller #william ironhead miller x reader #william miller x reader #will ironhead miller #will ironhead miller x reader #will ironhead miller imagine #william ironhead miller fanfiction #will ironhead miller fanfiction #mentions of stab wound #canon typical violence #mentions of drug use #mentions of cocaine #charlie hunnam

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ilearhmajeste · 8 months ago

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nordschleifes · 1 year ago

Text

chapter twelve — juro que

➝ love is always the best medicine, and charlie is willing to give fernando all the doses he needs to recover.

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: hallucinations, hospital, puppets and ron dennis (not in that order)

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

The lights obscured Fernando's vision, the loud sound of people applauding making him feel dizzy as he tried to make out his surroundings. The place reminded him of a familiar television studio he had been to a few weeks earlier to promote the race in Las Vegas. What was he doing there again?

“Wait a second… Why am I in Madrid? Shouldn't I be in the United States?”, he thought.

— We're back with Fernando Alonso, two-time Formula 1 world champion and Aston Martin driver — he heard a familiar voice say. He turned his head to the right and managed to focus his vision on the face of Pablo Motos, the host of the television show he had just made an appearance on. Only this time, he had a dark green headset on his head.

He raised an eyebrow, confused. Why was he wearing one of the headphones from the Aston garage? Even more perplexing, why was he speaking in English? Fernando thought about prodding him to ask him when he had learned English in the first place, because he knew Pablo didn’t speak the language that well. As he reached out to tap Pablo on the shoulder to ask, he felt a twinge of pain in his hand, as if something had pierced the skin.

— Fernando, the last time you were here, we already talked about the season and adapting to a new team, but we need to talk about this — Pablo said, pointing to the screen on the right side of the stage. The images projected on it made Fernando’s stomach twist.

It was a picture of the moment he met Charlie in the Aston Martin garage after his victory in Montreal. From the moment Fernando had crossed the finish line, all he could think about was sharing it with her. After all, she was responsible for their victory that day. She’d made that joy possible. Charlie believed in him and urged him on, even when he thought he’d never be able to catch Max, and their efforts had paid off.

However, Fernando remembered how he felt at the moment in the picture. Their hug carried so much more than the joy of victory. It was that moment, when Charlie was in his arms, laughing and wiping away her tears, that Fernando realized that he loved her.

— Yeah, that’s me and my race engineer...

— You two are very good friends, aren't you? — the host asked, a mischievous smile on his face.

— Yeah, Charlie is a good friend of mine — Fernando answered, trying to ignore the feeling that he had already answered that question before. “People ask about her all the time, this is normal”, he thought to himself, squirming uncomfortably in the chair he was sitting on — She's always by my side, she's my eyes outside the car, so to speak.

— Well, I know of two… I think calling them people would be a stretch, but they’re both very interested in discussing this with you — Pablo said, before turning to the audience, giving them a very rehearsed-looking smile — Everyone, please give a round of applause for Trancas and Barrancas!

In front of him, two light purple puppets with bulging eyes and yellow teeth rose from a cut-out space of Pablo’s desk. For some reason, Fernando never realized how comical they looked, intended to be a cartoonish impression of what an ant looked like. They normally had some sort of prop or costume, but this time, Fernando was shocked when they each were wearing brown wigs with long hair and wispy bangs, with dark green headsets on their heads to match Pablo’s. One of them — Barrancas, the one with the unibrow and buck teeth — had his hair down, while the other puppet, Trancas, who had a vacant expression and a singular, off-center tooth, had his wig styled in a messy bun.

They were dressed as Charlie.

— Good evening! Good evening! — Trancas said, turning to the audience and nodding, his pupils rattling humorously around the plastic domes that formed the puppet’s eyes. They were also speaking English, which gave Fernando even more of an uneasy feeling.

— Good evening, Fernando — Barrancas said, his bangs falling awkwardly over his monobrow.

— Good evening — he murmured, confused. Things were starting to feel distinctly odd — Why are you wearing those outfits?

— We decided to wear these things to make you more comfortable, and because it seems to be in style now — Barrancas said, shaking his head and ruffling his hair.

— And because you like Charlie…

— Shut up, Trancas — the puppet scolded, before turning to Fernando again — So, taking advantage of your being here, we decided to submit you to a test that you’ve done before, but this time, we have a bigger, better, more accurate version, to see if you remain sincere in your answers or if you are…

— Easily swayed by a pretty woman — the other puppet said, turning toward the audience as they broke out into cheers and whistles.

— What do you think, Fernando?

He didn't have time to respond before the puppets cheered and the crew came onto the stage with the equipment for the game, as loud music and applause filled the studio. Before he knew it, Fernando was strapped to the chair he’d been sitting on, with sensors strapped to his chest, arms, and legs. The one on his right leg had been cinched a bit too tight, causing his ankle to hurt.

— Are you ready? — Barrancas asked, not waiting for a response from Fernando before continuing — Let’s get started!

More applause. More of the suspenseful soundtrack in the background. More lights. More pain.

— Fernando Alonso, if that's really your name — Trancas began, his antennae and pupils shaking — Tell us, honestly and don't lie… Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

Fernando blinked. “What kind of question is that?”, he wondered.

— Yes, I do.

One of the lights that had been placed on the table came on, and the public reaction was completely negative, as well as the sound that went off in the studio.

He was lying.

— I can't believe it, Fer — someone said beside him. When he turned his face, the pilot realized that it was no longer Pablo Motos who was there, but Alberto, wearing a blue sweatshirt and his arms crossed on the table — Are you lying to the whole world straight away?

— What are you doing here, Galle?

— That doesn't matter, now answer the question.

— But…

— Mr. Fernando Alonso — Trancas said, his voice high and shrill — Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

— No? — he replied in a low voice, without any certainty.

Green light. “But how?”, the driver thought.

— Well, you don't like her — Barrancas said, ruffling his dark hair — So does that mean you love her?

Fernando swallowed hard.

That word seemed small compared to what he felt for Charlie.

After Andrea broke up with him, Fernando simply stopped thinking about trying to maintain a romantic relationship. Quite apart from the strain of a life of travel and constant and total focus on the races he needed to do, there was the whole issue related to his desire to maintain his own privacy while being around people who were clearly too delighted or scared with the fame and the spotlight to continue with the relationship.

In the end, love became a futile effort, a waste of time and energy he preferred to save for his professional life. Until Charlie sat next to him on the tires during pre-season testing.

She was an interesting enigma for Fernando. She'd had a completely different upbringing than he had, but with the same result. She had been fascinated by cars since she was a little girl and enjoyed karting as much as he did. She understood the world of Formula 1 as much as he did. Rather, she loved that world.

Falling in love with Charlie was easy. When Fernando realized it, he had a sinking heart, holding her while she had a panic attack due to the storm. He, who never minded the rain, came to dread it every time he was next to her. He couldn't bear to see Charlie shaken like that again, completely torn to pieces in front of him.

She deserved to be happy, a wide smile lighting up her expression, her eyes narrowed under the bangs that made her completely unique in his eyes. Charlie deserved it and Fernando was willing to give it to her, whether it was on the track or when they were alone in their little bubble. He would give her the whole world, even if it meant his ruin.

— Yes. I love Charlie.

The green light flickered in front of him, causing him to let out a sigh of relief. He knew he was speaking the truth, but there was a certain tension in having his own words called into question.

— Do you want to date her? — Trancas asked.

— Well, we kind of date…

Red light. Siren. Lie.

— Have you asked Charlie to be your girlfriend yet? — Barrancas questioned.

— No, but… Do I need to?

— C’mon, Fernando! — someone shouted from the audience. Turning to face forward, the driver found Lance on his feet, looking completely outraged by his answer — Of course you do! You told me that yourself, that you needed to talk to her...

— The problem is, when I thought about doing that, she just ran out of my room in her underwear…

A wave of gasps rose from the audience as a horn blared through the studio. Looking at the other people, Fernando realized that he was facing people he knew. Lewis, Flavio, Giancarlo, Jarno, as well as Raquel and Dasha, were all there, protesting his words.

— Hey, hey, hey, hold on, champ! — one of the puppets interrupted him suddenly — This is a family show, no details like that…

— But I didn’t say anything…

— Doesn't matter, we can only talk about stuff like that after ten, okay? — the ant said.

— Mr. Alonso, answer us with complete sincerity — Barrancas began — And without lying, eh? Are you willing to someday marry Charlie Whitlam?

The question made his heart sink inside his chest. He had fantasized about his wedding a few times when he was young, especially when he was engaged to Raquel. However, after his divorce, it became just another beautiful experience of life that had come to an end. Fernando had even thought about getting married again, first with Lara and then with Linda, but nothing very concrete.

Then he saw Charlie in that white jumpsuit at the boutique in Lugano, looking into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror. His mind drew the scenario almost automatically. White lace, hair up, a shy smile on her face and white English roses in her hand.

— No. I will marry her.

Green light. Truth.

— Interesting — a deep voice replied, the British accent rising. Looking to the side again, Fernando found that Alberto was no longer there, but Ron Dennis. Wearing a suit and tie, the man was smiling at him in a rather sadistic way as he stroked a very familiar orange cat — And do you think she wants to marry you?

— Yes.

Red light. Lie.

— Oops — Trancas said, laughing — I think you're wrong.

— Charlotte is an amazing woman, Fernando — Ron said, running a hand over the fur of the cat he was holding — She deserves the best there is in this world.

— I know, and I'm the best for her.

Red light. Lie. Looking at the device placed on the table, right in front of him, the driver was completely shocked.

— Even you don't believe that, Fernando — Ron said, chuckling.

— I do believe it, she is the woman of my life! — he exclaimed — I don't even know what you're doing here, you have nothing to do with it.

— Of course I do, who brought you back to McLaren in 2015? — the man asked — You would never have met Charlotte if it weren't for me. I even think you owe me a thank you.

— First, it's Charlie, she doesn't like being called Charlotte. Second, I won't thank you, those years at McLaren only hurt everyone!

Green light. True.

— I call her whatever I want, I know what's best for her.

— No, you do not know. Charlie is not a child. She knows what's best for herself. And I'm only going to believe that she wants nothing to do with me anymore when she tells me so.

Ron pressed his thin lips together.

— And while she doesn't speak?

— I'll keep imagining our lives, our wedding, even our children.

— Do you want children? — Trancas asked. Looking at the puppet, he couldn't help but smile.

— I do. And Charlie will be their mother.

There weren't any horns or lights going on. Suddenly, there was nothing else holding Fernando to the bench, not even Trancas and Barrancas in the space in the middle of the table. There was no audience, no soundtrack. There was just him and Ron Dennis, holding Charlie's cat in his lap and scratching its pointy ears.

— I think your time here is up — the man said, getting up from the bench.

— My time? — Fernando asked.

— They are waiting for you — Ron replied, placing the cat in his arms.

— They? Who are you talking about?

— Your exit is through that door — Dennis said, pointing to a corner of the studio behind him — And don't forget to give him back to his owner.

It was time for Fernando to turn his head to find the door for his former team boss to disappear. He was alone, holding the feline Ron in his arms, completely confused. Looking at the cat, the driver was in doubt for a few seconds before heading towards the door, feeling some irritating pain in his right foot.

When he opened the door, the light overshadowed his vision for a few seconds. Blinking his eyes hard and passing his free hand over his face, it took Fernando a few seconds to realize where he was. The well-wooded lane, with benches positioned just ahead of him, gave him a good lead. However, it was a man passing by wearing a familiar shirt that confirmed his suspicions.

He was in Oviedo.

Walking through the park, Fernando had no idea what to do. Should he try to go home? But if he was downtown, he would need to take a cab to Cayes, where his parents' house was. “Do I even have any money for a cab?”, he asked himself, looking for a place to stop and look for some money inside his jeans.

Then, he heard a familiar laugh.

It was a laugh he loved.

Turning back, he saw a group sitting under some shade. The older couple were holding each other, watching a little girl tell something, gesturing with her hands. Beside them, another couple with two teenage girls were listening intently to the smaller one, as was the other woman, who had a bulging belly.

It was his parents.

Lorena and Edo. Maria and Bianca.

Charlie.

— The duck said ‘quack’ and went back to the lake with the piece of banana I gave him — the little girl exclaimed — Did it like it, mamá?

— I'm sure, my dear — Charlie replied, running a hand through the girl's dark hair before she turned away. The strong chin, sweet smile and blue eyes was what he needed to be sure, eyes filling with tears.

He was looking at his daughter.

— Come on, Bia — the girl said, the wind swaying her green dress — Let's play ball!

His niece smiled as she got up and ran after her cousin, who was holding a white soccer ball. Watching the two play, Charlie rubbed her belly, probably thinking about what it would be like when their other child arrived. Walking slowly towards them, Fernando couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was.

That was his family, his life. He had parents, a sister, a brother-in-law and two nieces that he loved unconditionally. He had a partner he was completely in love with and two kids with her. Two pieces of his own heart out of his chest, the two greatest treasures he could have in life.

— Papá! — the little girl exclaimed, with a wide smile, waving at him as she guided the ball towards him.

— Mi cielo — he replied, as he followed, the pain in his arm from holding Ron growing stronger.

— Look, papá, I know how to do just like Vini!

— Yes, mi cielo...

— Get the ball, papá — the girl said, kicking the ball hard.

As the ball hit Fernando squarely in the face, his vision went white.

Charlie was tired. Tired of crying, tired of walking the hospital corridors, tired of sitting there, staring at Fernando, completely inert, while the machine above him beeped rhythmically, indicating that his heart was still beating. It was a sign that he was still with her, just not in the way she wanted.

She, along with Luis, Edo and Alberto, were informed early on Sunday morning that Fernando's injuries were not life-threatening, and that he should make a full recovery. The news was met with sighs of relief and thanks to God in whispered Spanish. However, that didn't mean he was out of the woods, quite the contrary. In addition to the ankle fracture that required surgery to stabilize, Fernando had suffered a grade-three concussion, which meant the end of the season for him and, in a way, for Charlie as well.

— He's going to be very upset — Luis muttered, putting one hand in his pocket, something everyone there agreed on. Fernando hated missing a free practice, much less a race. Breaking the news to him would be difficult, but that was a matter to be discussed with him awake.

That is, when he woke up.

After Fernando had surgery and was transferred to a room, his doctors expected him to wake up after the anesthesia wore off, but that did not happen. A neurologist brought in for a consult examined Fernando and determined that he was experiencing an expected reaction from his body, considering that he had already had other concussions of varying grades. A neurological exam with an EEG showed that his brain activity was normal, and he was just in what was functionally a very deep sleep, but that didn't make the wait any easier.

Looking at the hands on the wall clock only made Charlie feel more anxious. The feeling of helplessness in the face of the situation was overwhelming inside her chest and there was nothing she could do but take quick naps and sip cups of coffee that seemed completely tasteless.

Luis, Edo, and Alberto offered to take turns, to allow everyone a few hours off from keeping vigil at Fernando’s bedside, but Charlie declined. Something inside her told her that she would feel better if she went to the hotel to take a shower, eat a real meal and sleep in an actual bed, but doing so would mean leaving the man she loved alone. What if he woke up and she wasn’t there? She wasn't capable of that, not when she'd made that mistake before.

He needed her and Charlie was determined to stay there as long as she had to, even if she had to fight her own body. But with the arrival of another night, she was starting to lose the fight. With her head resting against her hand and her eyes closed, she was dozing lightly, the sound of the equipment monitoring Fernando's vital signs lulling her into a light sleep.

— Charlie? — a whisper made her shift in her chair. It was definitely some sort of auditory hallucination, she thought, because of how tired she was.

However, hearing the whisper a second time, Charlie was sure someone was calling her. Opening her eyes, she found Fernando with his eyes half closed, watching her. Running a hand over her face, she couldn't believe it.

— Fer — Charlie replied, jumping to her feet, her eyes filling with tears — It's me, I'm here.

— Where am I? — he asked.

— You're in the hospital — she said, wiping a hand over the tear that had trickled down her cheek. Charlie couldn't believe he was finally awake.

— In Vegas?

— Yes, we're still in Las Vegas.

He lifted his hand slowly towards hers, which was resting on the cold bed rail. Feeling his fingers land over hers, Charlie let go of the plastic and took his hand.

— What happened? Did I crash?

— Yes. You touched Pierre at the second chicane and flipped your car on the first lap.

He looked away, trying to move his body. After confirming that the hands and arms were fine, he tried moving his feet, first the left and then the right. Realizing he couldn't move his right foot, he lifted the blanket, staring at the soft cast that immobilized part of his leg.

— You've broken your ankle, they had to do surgery — Charlie said — The accelerator pedal broke in the crash, all of the force must have gone into your foot, so they have it immobilized. Oh, and you had a concussion too, but no other serious head injuries. I mean, aside from the fact you’ve been unconscious for two days, but…

— Two days? — he asked, looking shocked.

— Yes, two days. It's Monday evening.

He pressed his lips together, staring at the logo on her clothing. Looking down, Charlie felt a little self-conscious about wearing the same uniform since Saturday night, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered when he was there, in front of her, alive.

— Didn't you go back to the hotel?

— No. I've been here since Saturday night. I arrived a little after you, actually.

— Charlie...

— I couldn't go back, Fer — she whispered, her thumb stroking his skin — I couldn't leave you here alone.

— But what about Alberto? And Edo, and Luis? Did they go home?

— No, the three of them are at the hotel, waiting for you to wake up to come see you. They’ve been in and out, they all left a little while ago…

Fernando was silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on their intertwined hands.

— Why did you stay?

— Because you needed me...

— Charlie — he said, cutting her off — Tell me the truth.

— But — she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest.

— I opened my heart to you and you ran away from me — Fernando snapped, dryly — Now you're here, by my side, holding my hand...

— Do you want me to let go of your hand?

— I want you to be honest with me.

Charlie felt a lump rise in her throat. Why did it have to be so difficult?

— Fer...

He looked up at her seriously.

— If, after everything we've been through together, you can't tell me how you feel, I think you better let go of my hand and leave.

— I wouldn't go even if you wanted me to.

— Yes, you would.

— Of course not — Charlie snapped.

— Why not? You did before…

— Because I love you! — she exclaimed. The volume of her voice made Fernando flinch, before Charlie remembered what the doctor had said about concussions causing visual and auditory sensitivity. Then she continued in a lower voice — I love you, Fer.

Fernando stared at her, seeming to process the words.

— I just didn't tell you before because I — Charlie hesitated for a few seconds — I was scared. I thought what we had was something casual, but I only told myself that because I was so afraid of how deep my feelings for you had gotten, and when you told me you loved me, I panicked. You had finally given the right name to the crushing feeling I feel in my chest every time I'm with you. It is not joy, it is not peace, it is not passion. It's love. It's simply love. And even still, it scares me.

Looking down at their hands, more tears filled her eyes.

— Does love scare you? — he asked.

— My love for you scares me. In fact, all the feelings you can provoke in me scare me. You've already made me feel so much that I didn't allow myself before — she stopped for a few seconds — My life is intertwined with yours in a way that I can't explain. And it's this lack of an explanation for my logical brain that makes it all scary.

— Love doesn't have to be logical — Fernando murmured.

— I found that out sitting in that armchair, waiting for you to wake up. It makes no sense for me to love someone I hated so deeply, but at the same time, it makes the most complete sense when you are the person who understands me, even though I am the mess of a person I am. What I feel for you is love. It has no logic or limit. And I just hope you accept mine the same way I accept yours.

He let go of her hand suddenly, which made Charlie's stomach sink. After some silence, she decided that was her last shot with him.

— I don’t know if you remember but in Montreal, in 2015, I ran out of the motorhome after the debrief and hid between the paddock buildings to cry — she whispered — I was mad at you, so mad. And Lewis just happened to find me there, sobbing. We talked about what happened and he gave me some valuable advice that day.

— What did he say?

— He told me not to let you into my head — she replied, seeing his pursed lips — But today, I realized he didn't say anything about my heart. And you entered mine.

Fernando gave a small smile.

— He's an asshole.

— He said the same about you.

— Oh, he did? Good to know…

The two looked at each other for a few seconds in silence.

— Well… — Charlie said.

— What?

— It’s just as simple as that, I suppose, that I love you, and that I hope you still love me, too — she whispered.

— I never stopped loving you, Charlotte — Fernando replied, placing his hand on her face — Not even for a second. And you don't have to be afraid of anything. I will take care of your heart with all the love it deserves.

With her chest filling with warm sensation, Charlie leaned over the bed rail, placing a soft, tear-tasting kiss on his lips. The relief of having him alive and well mingled with the happiness of loving and being loved despite being far from perfect. She was finally safe.

After a few more delicate kisses and Fernando asking other questions about the race, Charlie took it upon herself to call the doctor who was taking care of him to take a look at him. Then, she called Edo, letting him know that his brother-in-law was conscious and oriented, news that he received with great joy.

— I'll let everyone around here know he's awake — he said — His mother will be so relieved, Lore told me she wasn't sleeping well with worry.

— I can imagine — Charlie replied, watching Fernando as a nurse took his blood pressure.

— Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can come over and sit with Fer so you can rest.

Charlie bit her lip. She was completely exhausted, but she didn't want to leave Fernando behind. It wasn't as if he wasn't getting the best treatment, much less that he was incapacitated in any way, but she took it as an obligation. However, the last thing Charlie wanted was to suffocate Fernando, even more so in this situation.

— I'll talk to him and let you know, okay?

— Yeah, no problem — he said — Give him a hug from me and tell him I'll see him tomorrow morning at the latest.

After hanging up the phone, Charlie approached the bed again. Looking at her, Fernando had a small smile on his lips.

— Edo?

— Yeah. He said he's coming to see you tomorrow morning.

— Is he coming with you when you come back?

She blinked.

— Well, I thought I'd stay here one more night.

— Why?

— So I can take care of you.

The driver laughed.

— Charlie, I'm in a hospital. There's no shortage of people here to take care of me.

— But they're not me.

— True, they aren’t, but — he said, bringing a hand to her face — But it's no use trying to take care of me if you're not taking care of yourself.

— I'm fine — Charlie snapped — I can stay awake a lot longer. In fact, I had many nights like this in university.

— You were 20 years old then, you could get away with it — Fernando said, his thumb stroking her cheek — Now, you need to listen to your body and rest. I’ll be fine, I promise.

His concern made something warm inside her chest. "Love, this is love", Charlie thought to herself, smiling.

— Okay, I'm going to the hotel — she relented — But I'll be back tomorrow morning, very early, okay, my love?

Fernando smiled.

— Perfect, mi amor.

After a few goodbye kisses and a good-natured joke about how handsome he looked with a fuller beard, Charlie finally left his room, making her way to the hospital lobby practically floating. It was as if she were in a romance book, in which the protagonists were finally living their “happily ever after”.

Well, until she looked outside the hospital.

In front of the building, what seemed to be more than a dozen cameras were pointed at the entrance door, along with a good number of journalists and photographers. It was clear that there would be people there, waiting for anyone who could give more information about Fernando. And, considering she was in the team uniform, she was the perfect person for it.

— Miss, do you need help? — a man wearing a white coat and surgical scrubs asked. She explained the situation, and the man took her to an exit leading to the staff parking lot, which was free of reporters.

“An angel”, Charlie thought, as she made her way back to The Signature in an Uber, ducking slightly so reporters wouldn't see her leaving the building. The entire drive there was a big blur, as was the arrival at the suite. After taking a shower and calling in-room dining service to order something to eat, she allowed herself a moment of contemplation, looking up at the ceiling.

Fernando was fine, he was alive. And most of all, he still loved her. He had never stopped loving her, not for a second, not even when she feared her own feelings for him. And being loved by that man was a sublime feeling, better than anything Charlie had ever felt in her life.

There was so much more than just sexual chemistry between the two, but something much stronger and deeper. What they had was something that even the word she was most afraid to use to describe it — love — seemed inadequate. Fernando didn't complete her, because Charlie was sure she was a complete person without him, but he complemented her. He brought out the best in her and that was...

— Fuck, Charlie — she muttered to herself, wiping the tears that had trickled from her eyes. However, unlike the last few days, these were tears of joy.

She was happy.

Finally happy.

The next morning, Charlie was back at the hospital, feeling much better than she had the day before. “He was right”, she thought, as she walked past the reporters in silence, lowering her Brighton cap a bit. After checking in at the reception desk and getting a visitor’s badge, she went up to Fernando's room, wondering if he’d gotten some more sleep, if he was awake, if he’d been able to eat, and if he was in any pain.

Knocking softly on the door of room 249, the answer came in his expression, which looked much more rested. Not only that, he looked happy.

— Good morning, everyone — Charlie said, greeting Edo, Luis and Alberto who had arrived there earlier, before approaching the bed slowly — Good morning, Fer.

— Good morning, nena — he replied, stretching out his hand toward her — Did you get some rest?

— Yes — she said, giving his hand a light squeeze before releasing it. The reaction made the driver raise an eyebrow at her — What?

— Aren’t you forgetting something?

She looked down at herself, trying to imagine what she could have left at the hotel that she hadn't noticed, but Fernando had.

— No, I have everything here.

— What about my kiss? — he asked, giving her the puppy-eyed look that made her give in to his every request, even the most absurd of them.

— Fer — Charlie said through clenched teeth, feeling her cheeks heat up.

— Come on, it's not like they don't know we've been together for over six months — Fernando said, looking at the three men beside him.

— You haven’t exactly been discreet — Alberto said, crossing his arms, with Luis nodding beside him.

— Especially with the hickeys — Edo added, smirking — You've already done quite a bit of damage to his neck, Charlie.

Charlie felt a little embarrassed about that. As much as she wanted to be discreet, it was hard not to want to kiss and bite the skin on Fernando's neck. When she saw it, there was already a purple mark nestled in the space between the muscle and his collarbone. Luckily they were always hidden under the green shirts and racing overalls.

— So where's my kiss?

— It's here — Charlie relented, giving him a delicate peck — How was your night?

— Good. I ate, slept, and talked to the doctor. He updated me on everything that happened to me and recovery times. He said that the average is eight weeks, but I think Edo and I will be able to reduce it to six.

— Fernando, you can't control the speed at which your bones heal — she said seriously.

— But I can and will help them along. Edo and I will talk to Lore tomorrow, when I'm home, to see what supplementation I can take...

— Home? Are you going to be discharged?

— Yes, the doctor said he's releasing me tonight — Fernando replied.

— And are you going to Lugano?

— No, Oviedo. My mother is going to break my other ankle if I don't go home for a bit after this one. Besides, it'll be nice to be around my family for a few weeks, I haven't seen them all together since Barcelona, so...

Charlie smiled, running an affectionate hand through his hair.

— Love is always the best medicine, my grandmother always says — she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

— So can I get the jet ready for the five of us, Fer? — Alberto asked.

— Five? — Charlie asked, looking at him and then at Fernando.

— Yes. We’re all going to Oviedo — the driver replied, stroking her hand.

— But, am I going with you?

— Of course, Charlie — he said, before he saw the doubt in her eyes — Well, if you want to.

She pressed her lips together, feeling a little confused. Although she wanted to stay with Fernando and support him through his recovery, Charlie felt like she was going too fast and too far. Being at his house was one thing, but being with his family was something else entirely. It was like taking a step bigger than her leg.

— It's like your grandmother says, love is the best medicine — Fernando said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the fingers, eyes fixed on her — And I'm going to need some doses of yours, mi cielo.

“How am I supposed to say no?”, she thought to herself.

— Okay, my love. I'll go with you.

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