#I am not going to start to tag them all or we are here until the end of times

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

06: I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: time skip (three months), Sebastian Stan, race inchident, crash, hospital

a/n: Hiiii!!!How is your life going??? I have to thank my lovely @alltoomaples for being the beta reader of this chapter :3 thank you!! And I just have to warn that this is the start of the real deal!

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3 months later. Abu-Dhabi GP.

“Are you sure it's okay if we're seen together?”

After that charity event, where I had an anxiety attack and Sebastian came to help me, the two of us somehow got closer. We exchanged numbers and he texted me every day asking me how I was doing, if I felt better or if I had an anxiety attack again. And that concern turned into something more as weeks passed by, ending in something like a situationship.

“Of course. They should mind their own business” I smiled. “You came to support me”

He smiled and nodded, pressing a light kiss on my head and grabbing his backpack, getting ready to leave the hotel room to go to the track.

Avoiding Charles in Maranello was easy, I only had to look at the schedule and go whenever he wasn't there or even being in the same building but making sure I didn't see him at all. During race weeks was harder, because our garages were next to each other and the team briefings were in the same room, but that didn't stop me from sitting on the other side of the table and ignoring him.

And now that the season was finally ending, I could finally breathe in peace knowing that the only time I'll see him after this race is going to be at the team dinner.

I got out of the hotel room with Sebastian behind me holding my hand, squeezing it softly as we walked towards the elevator. The last three months with him were amazing, he always supported me even if he had to be away filming, sending me gifts or calling me before a race.

“This is the last race of the season, right?” he asked. “Why don't we go somewhere to have a week alone, only the two of us? Maybe somewhere warm?”

“That sounds amazing” I smiled looking at him, pressing a kiss on his cheek and hugging his arm.

If someone ever told me that I could do something like this with the one and only Sebastian Stan, I would tell them that they had drugs on their drink. But here I am, waking up next to him some mornings and feeling his touch all over my body.

I knew there were rumors about us. Some people somehow connected dots and started saying that Sebastian and I were dating. And the comments are everything but good. I had haters all over my career, but since that night of September the hate started to get worse, making fans get creative and make comments about everything I did: be with someone older than me, going to fashion events, trying to start a clothing brand. 

“You are tense” Sebastian said while we walked towards my car. 

“I'm okay, it's just… I'm tired” I smiled weakly. “It's been a long season, all I need is to rest”

“Are you sure?” he sighed. “It's just… Lately you've been so tired, Dafne. And I worry about you”

“Don't worry, really” I smiled, squeezing his hand softly. “After this race I'm all yours, okay?”

He smiled softly and nodded, kissing my temple and getting in the Ferrari. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, preparing myself for what is about to come once I'm near the track. I swallowed thickly, feeling tears burning my eyes and the knot of my neck not letting me breathe. 

I can do this, just one more day. I can handle this. Another day or hearing the crowd roaring, engineers talking to me asking me to push more and more, fake smiles to the photographers. Just one more day until I can disappear for a while and come back stronger to fight Charles.

I sighed, opening the door and sitting on the driver seat, looking at Sebastian and smiling weakly. This will be the first time he will come to a race, and even if we made clear to the other that what we had right now was everything we wanted, I was still nervous about what people would think and assume, how he would react to the hate.

“It will be okay, yeah?” he smiled looking at me, placing his hand on my knee and squeezing it softly. “The race will end before you know it and then you won't have to be around him for some months”

I smiled weakly and nodded, driving towards the track. My grip on the steering wheel is tight, with my mind working nonstop about the different scenarios of what will happen once my car appears near the track, with all those fans there waiting for the drivers. Will they be respectful? Will they scream profanities? Will they hate seeing Sebastian next to me? The hate will be towards me or towards him? 

I clenched my jaw when I started to see all the people behind the barriers, taking pictures of the cars that drove in front of them, calling the names of the drivers. I recognized Lando's car in front of mine, and I could hear the fans calling him, excited to see him. But when I drove pass them, the turned their heads to look at the car behind me.

“God, not even taking pictures of this beauty?” Sebastian said, trying to cut the tension. “Come on, this car is amazing, when will be the next time they'll see a Ferrari Roma?”

“This is Abu Dhabi, Seb” I smiled weakly. “They have supercars in every corner…”

I looked at him smiling weakly. I know he tries to cheer me up, but it's not the first time they do this. I'm already used to being ignored.

“My family will be in the hospitality during the race, you want to be with them?” I asked him, changing the subject.

“Don't mind me, I love your family, they are great” he smiled. “But… I want to be in the garage. I-if that's okay with you, of course. I want to experience a race inside of the garage”

“Yeah of course” I smiled. “You'll have to stay in the back, but… Yeah, sure”

He smiled and nodded, biting his lip and looking at the front.

What people will if they see him in the garage? What will media say? 

I swallow thickly and park the car, taking deep a deep breath before opening the door. Sebastian got out after me, looking all the time at me. I grabbed my backpack and locked the car, looking around. 

“Go ahead” Sebastian smiled, nodding. “I'll be okay. It's just scanning the pass and then I have to walk to the big red building, right?”

“Yeah” I nodding, grabbing tightly the backpack. “I'll see you there”

I took a deep breath and walked away, wanting to go back and kiss his lips, but I knew people had their cameras ready to picture every move I made. So, instead of that, I walked alone with the biggest fake smile I could make, scanning my pass and walking through the paddock, letting the photographers take pictures of me. 

Chin up, bitch smile, walk straight.

During most part of the day I felt nauseous. And my chest hurt. 

“Probably your period will come soon” my sister Soleil said. “You want me to give you some vitamins?”

“Yeah, sure” I nodded, moving my shoulders in circles to warm up. “And give me a cold jacket before I go to the anthem”

The last few days I have been feeling weird, true. My breasts were more sensitive and I felt swollen. 

“Thank God this is the last race if the season” I sighed.

Sebastian was out of my room with the rest of my family while Soleil helped me get ready for the race. I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed, slipping the fireproof shirt inside the leggings.

“Yeah, probably it's the period” I sighed looking at my abdomen. 

I walked out of the room with the suit hanging on my hips, grabbing the bottle of water and walking towards my family and Sebastian. I saw Charles' family near, and I just smiled weakly at them before hugging Sebastian.

“You ready?” he smiled, kissing the top of my head and rubbing my back. 

“Yeah, I'm just a little nauseous” I smiled weakly. “Probably I shouldn't have eaten that yogurt from earlier…”

“I'm sure it's nothing” my mom smiled. “You always get nervous in the last race of the season, is normal”

I nodded and smiled weakly, hugging Sebastian tighter as he rubbed my back, comforting me. 

I heard Charles walking out of his room and I tensed immediately. I can't avoid him always, we are in the same team, even if we hate it.

“I have to go make the team photos” I sighed, kissing Sebastian's jaw. “The race is in an hour, you can go to the garage now”

“Okay” he smiled kissing my forehead.

I smile looking at him walk away, biting my lip when I heard my sisters giggling. I rolled my eyes and grab the helmet Erica was holding for me.

“What would say the Dafne of a year ago?” she smirked.

“About what?” I laughed.

“Well, look at you and Sebastian” she smiled. 

“Yeah, well” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “We are not dating”

“Yet” she smirked.

“We are too busy for that” I sighed.

I walked out of the hospitality and went towards the garage, smiling weakly when I saw Sebastian already with a headset hanging on his neck. I walked towards him and smiled.

“You'll be okay here?” I asked him.

“Of course I'll be” he smiled, holding my helmet while I zipped the suit. “Smile, okay?”

“Yeah” I sighed, smiling weakly and grabbing the helmet, following all the workers that were walking towards the stands where the picture will be taken.

Charles was already there, following me with his eyes. He was already sitting in the tyre of his car, with his helmet resting on his thigh. I ignored his eyes and sat on the tyre of my car, looking at the camera with my helmet on my thigh, wishing this would end fast so I could take a lap on my car to place it on the grid. 

“Are you okay?”

I frown, turning my head slowly and looking at Charles standing next to me. I laughed loudly, standing up. Did he really ask that?

“As if you cared” I laughed. 

“You look pale. If you get sick today it won't be good for the team” he frowned.

“Mind your own shit, Leclerc” I said. “What I do is none of your business”

I walked away fast before he could talk to me more, not wanting to interact with him at all. I got inside of my car and after the track was clear, I drive to the postion I'm starting the race. 

But things do not always go how I planned. The moment I got out of the car he was already there, looking at me with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Fuck off” I groaned. 

“I heard you throw up this morning, Morelli” he frowned. “Remember our rooms are next to the other”

“So? Am I not allowed to feel sick?” I scoffed.

“Today is an important race for the team, Dafne!” he exclaimed. “If we want to keep the second position of the championship we have to be in the podium. And if you are not feeling well, that won't happen”

“Come on, don't make me laugh” I frowned. “I drove multiple races having the period, with cramps making me want to get out of the fucking car and curl in my bed! And did I do it? No, right? So shut the fuck up, focus on your own race and leave me alone”

I groaned, hugging the helmet and starting to walk away. But again, he's not satisfied with making me mad, so he keeps opening his mouth.

“Why did you bring that dude?”

I frown, turning around on my heels and frowning. 

“Oh, now we are talking about my private life?” I laughed. 

“He's too old for you” he frowned. 

“Oh my God, shut up!” I exclaimed, walking closer to him. “Do you have something else to say? At least I am with someone that has a brain and a job and doesn't need my money to be someone. Oh, and he is way better in bed than you, asshole”

I saw him clenching his jaw as well as his fist, and I knew that it hurt him. Groaning, I turned around and walked towards the garage to have one last meeting with my engineers to have everything ready before the race.

I walked towards Sebastian once the meeting was done and he welcomed me with that shy smile he always has. He was on my side of the garage, opening his arms slowly as I walked closer to him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist while I hugged his neck, playing with the baby hairs of his nape. 

“I am” I sighed. “And you?”

“I’m excited to see my girl being an absolute badass out there” he smiled, making me freeze after I heard those words.

“Your girl?” I whisper. “S-Seb…”

“I know” he sighed, pressing his lips on my forehead. “We’ll talk after this, okay? Come back to me with the big trophy”

“I will” I smiled, playing with the hair of his nape and standing on my tip toes to press a fast kiss on his lips. “I have to go”

“Yeah” he smiled. “You’ll do amazing”

He unwrapped his arms from my waist, pressing another soft kiss on my lips before I walked away, with Soleil joining me on the grid.

“And that big smile?” she teased me, handing me the cold jacket and helping me put it.

“Well, Sebastian called me his girl” I chuckled softly. “I think tonight we are going to talk about… Well, us”

“Finally! Arthur owes me money!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“What? Did you make a bet with him? Why?” I frowned, confused, but somehow that smile didn’t disappear from my lips.

“Because it was obvious you two would end up together” she said. “He said it was going to be during the winter break, but I just said that it was going to be for sure tonight after the race”

“Idiots” I laughed, shaking my head.

The national anthem played, and I took my position alongside the other drivers. My mind was a spiral of thoughts and emotions. The weight of the season, the pressure of the race, and the looming conversation with Sebastian were all battling for dominance in my head. But most of all, I felt an inexplicable sense of unease in my body.

As the anthem concluded, my dizziness started creeping into my body. I blinked hard, trying to focus on the task ahead. Just one more race and I will rest.

The cars roared to life, and the anticipation in the air was electric. I strapped myself into my seat, hands gripping the wheel. Sebastian's words echoed in my mind, giving me a strange mix of comfort and determination. I glanced towards the garage, knowing he would be there, biting his lip like he always does when he’s nervous about something.

The race started, and I pushed all doubts aside. My car flew down the track, driving through the early chaos of the race with precision. But as the laps progressed, the dizziness got worse. Each turn required more concentration, each acceleration felt more hard.

On the 44th lap, I found Esteban Ocon in front of me. He had to let me pass because he had the blue flag. But he was fighting me, defending like he was defending his position.

“What the hell is he doing?” I groaned. “He has to let me pass! Fucking idiot!”

“Stay calm, Dafne. We sent the report to the stewards” my engineer said.

Some seconds after he seemed to understand that he couldn't fight, maybe he even received a penalty, so I just drove next to him, showing him my middle finger as I overtook him.

But then it happened.

He didn't give me enough space, making his front wing clip my rear tire, sending my car spinning out of control. I struggled to regain control, but the dizziness made it nearly impossible. The world around me tilted and swayed, the track blurring as I fought with the steering wheel.

I hit the barriers hard, the impact shaking my entire body. Pain exploded in my head, and the last things I remembered were the deafening sound of crunching metal, the voices of my engineer and Fred in my ears and the crowd screaming terrified before everything went black.

The sound of the beeping of a machine next to me was the first thing I heard when I started to wake up. Then I held the weight of another hand holding mine. When I started to take deep breaths, the smell of hospital and Sebastian's perfume filled my lungs, making me open my eyes and search for him with my eyes.

“S-Seb” I croaked, feeling a wave of pain in my neck when I moved my head.

“You are awake” he said softly, relief flooding his voice.

“What…”

“You had a crash” he sighed, smiling weakly. “Ocon lost control of his car and crashed into you… You've been unconscious for some hours, Daf…”

“The race” I mumbled, nervous.

 “There was a red flag” he explained, rubbing my hand softly. “Until they took your car out of if the barriers and they translated you to the helicopter”

“Who won? The championship…” I mumbled concerned. “We lost it…”

“Fuck the championship. You could have died, Dafne” he sighed. 

I swallowed thickly, looking away and closing my eyes, the memories coming back in fragments, repeating in my mind over and over again. The race, the dizziness, the impact.

“My family?” I whispered, swallowing thickly.

“I sent them to the hotel” he sighed. “They have been here since you arrived and they needed to rest, Dafne. I'll call them later, okay?”

Some minutes later, after Sebastian pressed a button, a doctor entered the room with a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a reassuring smile, holding a file and pressing it against her chest.

"Miss Morelli, how are you feeling?" the doctor asked, checking the monitors.

“Like I got hit by a truck” I sighed, smiling weakly.

“It's totally understandable. You had a severe concussion and some minor injuries, but nothing too serious" he said. "However, there is something else we need to discuss. We ran some tests to make sure everything was okay after the crash”

“Okay… and? How did they come out?” I asked confused, nervously.

“You are pregnant” the woman said, opening her file and showing me what looked like an ultrasound. “Three months pregnant, to be more precise”

“W-what?” I mumbled.

 "The baby seems to be doing fine despite the crash, but you'll need to take it easy for a while.”

Pregnant. No. No, it can't be. Sebastian and I always used protection. Always. And I am on the pill.

“It's imposible” I said, looking at Sebastian and then back at the doctors. “No, I'm sure it's a mistake. I can't be pregnant. I'm on the pill! We use protection!”

“There are many possibilities, Miss Morelli” the woman said. “The condom could break… I saw in your medical file that you've got prescripted some antibiotics three months ago because of a throat infection. The antibiotics can take down the effects of the pill…”

The woman kept talking and talking, Sebastian's grip in my hand was tighter. But my mind only could repeat that scene from three months ago. 

“Please, leave me alone” I mumbled, making the woman stop talking. 

She and the other doctor nodded and walked out, closing the door behind them.

Three months. My mind raced, trying to piece it together. The timing... it couldn't be. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt a mixture of emotions swirling inside me. Anger, disgust, fear, panic.

“Talk to me” I heard Sebastian whisper, squeezing my hand again. “Dafne, please say something”

“I don't know what to say” I whisper, feeling my throat closing with panic.

“We can do this together, okay?” he smiled weakly. “Maybe this wasn't how we wanted, but… God, Dafne, the past few months made me realize that I really like you”

“Sebastian…”

“I know it's not the perfect timing, but I promise I will take care of you two, hm? I can take a break from filming, we can… We can buy a house, what do you think? So our baby can grow up happy. Yeah, we can do that. We will live together, hm?”

“Sebastian”

He's going to hate me. 

“And I know you might not like it, but you can't race…”

Oh, that was what broke me.

“It's not yours!” I exclaimed.

“What?” he mumbled, the smile on his lips disappearing slowly.

“This baby” I whisper. “It's not yours. It's Charles'”

Sebastian's grip on my hand tightened slightly, but he didn't say anything immediately. I could see the hurt flicker across his face, masked by a veil of confusion.

“That fucking idiot” I spat, feeling the anger burning in my veins, getting rid of his grip in my hand. “Of all people it had to be him! Why?!”

“Dafne, calm down…” I heard Sebastian say.

“Calm down? Calm down?!” I exclaimed.

“We'll do this together, okay?” he said, trying to reach my hand again. “I'll be next to you-”

“No” I said quickly. “Leave me alone”

“Dafne…”

“I said leave me alone!” I said louder. “Get out, please! Get out! I don't need your pitty, I don't need you!”

He clenched his jaw, looking at me with pain in his eyes. But that pain is nothing compared to the one I'm feeling right now.

“I need to be alone” I whispered, feeling a wave of panic.

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, hurt and confusion filling in his eyes. Finally, he nodded silently and stood up, his shoulders down, defeated. He paused at the door, casting one last worried glance at me before leaving the room.

Alone in the hospital bed, the anger that had fueled my outburst began to disappear, leaving behind a terrible ache. I felt disgusted. Disgusted at the situation, at Charles, at myself for letting this happen. How could I have been so careless? How could I have let him go this far?

The tears that I had been holding back finally spilled over, tracing silent paths down my cheeks. I was scared of what this pregnancy meant for my career, for my relationship with Sebastian, for everything I had worked so hard to achieve.

I was so lost. I will lose my career. My family will be disappointed. The team, the media will hate me. Sebastian probably hates me, I'm not carrying his child.

What am I going to do?

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu @green-thots

[illumnis]

finish line. — you and alhaitham are not friends, far from it. you're not exactly lovers either; so why does he decide to take ten steps back and settle for aquaintances?

pairing: alhaitham x gn!reader

warnings: kinda toxic? idk to each and their own, he's just really emotionally ignorant, mentions of non-sexual nudity, angst, unedited

note: look what i'm back with (i am so sorry this is bad,,, i haven't written in AGES), also happy summer i am officially not a highschooler anymore!

alhaitham is efficient. he decides what is considered more work than necessary and greatly succeeds with the basic necessities. this also means that alhaitham has every intention to finish what he starts and only starts what he knows he can finish.

alhaitham also holds your hand so you can fall asleep at night despite the nightmares that plague your imagination, but he leaves before you can wake up. alhaitham helps you scrub away the finely ground sand off of your sweaty body after a research project done on the dunes residing in the sumerian desert, even allowing you to do the same to him, but he always rejects your offer to cook him dinner afterwards in celebration of the grueling excursion. alhaitham whispers how you're devastatingly beautiful as he washes your hair without care if you hear him or not, but he can't bring himself to help you dry it.

for once in his life, alhaitham has started something he can't bring himself to finish.

he wonders why you're bitter all of a sudden. how you can't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes anymore, how you walk a step behind him instead of a linked pace, how you don't let him touch your hair anymore, how you don't invite him over or ask if you can tag along on his journeys to the desert.

you're avoiding him and he blames his irritation on the fact that friends aren't supposed to brush each other off.

you're not entirely sure when the two of you started treading the line between acceptable and having alhaitham push you away, but the unspoken agreement was that this was all it was going to be. you're not like alhaitham. often times, you walk the world on your terms, which must be why you now found yourself on the opposing side of the agreement.

who can blame you? he's seen you, flesh and bone. under your clothes and to your heart. he's seen you, your rampant imagination, both the good and the bad parts. he's seen you most vulnerable, stating that even this side of you is worth adoring.

the waiting game was a exhausting one, even before, you knew he'd be the last person to bring your... situation with him up; which is why you settle for slowly stretching the strings of your relationship until they snap, and you never have to look back.

or that was at least the idea until you were crying behind the akademiya over an offhanded comment that your least favourite professor had made about you. he was there, somehow he always is, and he was holding you. his warmth was the same as it had been since you had last invited him over, which only made you cry more. had your absence not frosted his heart over at least a little?

by the time you're done crying, you are no longer in his arms and he looks at you with a mixture of hurt and comfort. something vengeful in you is satisfied that you have given him a taste of how he leaves you.

"i'll always be here when you need me, yn, regardless of if you choose to stop being acquainted with me or not."

somehow, his reassuring words do the opposite and the vengeful spirit in you grows.

"then why can't you let me need you all the time? what's stopping you from letting us rely on each other? it's not like you act like we don't already."

this seals his lips and a subtle frown paints itself over his them and something inside you aches. you have always prided yourself in being able to bring the most emotion out of him that anyone has in years. now, you are stuck with pitiful expressions; frowns nonetheless.

it's a heavy silence that takes over the atmosphere before you've decided that whether you hear his answer or not, you'll still hear your glass heart shatter. so you move to get up.

"i can't take the risk. not yet." it flows out of his mouth so naturally. almost like he's been waiting for your confrontation.

"risk? what risk, alhaitham? look at what you've started, you've already taken it," you're fuming, a new level of self-loathing filling your being at the idea of you being so naive to believe that someone who can't even call you a friend could be full of love, "either finish what you've started, or destroy it before you lose yourself in it."

alhaitham's silence elicits a scoff from your lips and you're grateful you had shaken yourself out of his touch earlier, or else you'd find yourself back at square one; forgiving him and asking once more if he'd let you make him dinner hoping his answer would be different.

you'll help him out one last time, you guess. walking away as he doesn’t spare you a glance, stuck in the position that was meant to comfort you, only for it to end whatever mess he had started.

navi. mlist.

[littlefankingdom]

I'm thinking about the drastic differences between how Bruce reveals his identity and how Dick reveals his identity in World's Finest. Dick simply takes off his mask and presents himself to the Titans, but Bruce? Bruce, he calls the Daily Planet, asking them to send Clark Kent to his manor immediately. Clark is now in the house of a stranger he only knows as a rich extravagant man, and said man starts explaining how he knows Clark is Superman. Clark tries to deny it and Bruce explains how he filed the room with a gas that humans cannot breathe, and Clark can breathe, so he is not human. At this point, for Clark, Bruce Wayne is a dangerous man who knows his secret identity, and he has him in his house full of gadgets. Bruce asks him to follow him, and he takes him to the Batcave, which is how Clark makes the connection. Like, the dramatics of it all? The theatrics? Making your colleague fear for their safety? Showing how they need to be better at hiding their identity? Slightly playing bad guy? This is so good.

Anyway, now I cannot accept Bruce not doing something like this everytime he reveals his identity to another Justice League's member. But his kids, they are simply taking their masks off, like normal people. And now, you have other vigilantes' families discussing how they learn their bats' identity and being baffled.

Barry: They just... Took their masks off? And told you their names? That's it? No supervilain's monologue?

Wally: BATMAN PRANKED YOU???!!! I'm calling Dick.

Bart: *Blue screened from learning that Batman pranks the JL*

[elegyofthemoon]

😊

[wiklm]

hello everyone!! i’ve compiled some genshin age headcannons with the help of @interstate35south !!!! because you’re all wrong and i’m SICK of every character only being in their early 20s or several thousand years old with no in between. this will not be nearly the whole cast it’ll probably be like 10 characters or so bc i don’t have time for all that (i’m a liar). ok here we go

- first up let’s talk about ragbros!! this post is gonna be mostly bullet points but we had more to say about these 2. FIRST of all: Diluc was missing for 10 years after Crepus’ death instead of 4. How do i know this?? he told me himself trust me. No but actually him being missing much longer feels more impactful for Diluc and Kaeya’s festering issues they’ve got going on ykwim?? as a wise man (intertstate35south) once said, he’s been gone for 4 years starting at 18?? big whoop that’s just college. Second: Diluc is like 43 ish, kaeya is 40 ish. Diluc came back to mond at ~28 and kaeya was ~25! between then by the time traveler arrives in mond it’s been about 15 years.

- next up cyno tighnari and collei!! i’m ill about them!! i actually have no clue at all what their approximate ages are BUT i’ve seen enough people hc them as being in their mid 20s that i felt the need to make this post in the first place (i am a drama queen)!! in my head i have decided that at the time cyno went to mondstadt to seal collei’s archon residue collei was ~12 (with some wiggle room b/c of how long she was with dottore) and cyno and tighnari were 36 and 34 respectively. as of traveler arriving in sumeru ik sayinf it’s been 3 years and cyno is at 39 and tighnari at 37 and BEFORE YOU TELL ME cyno is the youngest general mahamatra in ages YES that’s true but he could’ve still been the youngest and just been on the job for 15 or so years since being appointed!! he was still appointed young but he wasn’t made general mahatma last week ykwim??

- ok i’m done with the super long ones i’m so sorry for that!! next up we got beidou and ningguang. if i see one more of you call them milfs and then in the same breath say they are twenty seven it will cause the heat death of the universe. to be honest i can see them anywhere in the range of 35-47 i don’t really have a specific one for them!! but seriously stop calling them milfs and also 27 years old you can’t do that

- albedo!! i do think him being immortal and some unspecified very large age would be fun but in the case of him being a normal age even if he is immortal i give him a solid 34-37

- jean and lisa early-mid 40s!! it’s just more fun when lisa has substantially less time left yk it ups the stakes

- less of an age headcanon more of a dumb pet peeve of mine but if ONE more of you mfs calls zhongli an old man and then gives him anime baby face.. lord.

-wriothesley 32 trust trust trust . he’s on the younger side for my age hcs bc i think he is still young just not like early 20s young yk

-thoma is in the same age range as diluc/kaeya/jean/lisa bc i am a diluc jean and thoma childhood friends truther

ok that’s all!! may reblog with more some day but for now this is all i got!! don’t take this too serious i’m goofing around and i think about this god awful game FAR too much it’s terrible actually

[saistappen]

Special guest | MV1

In which Max pays a visit to a primary school class to answer a few questions before the Dutch gp

or

In which Max only has eyes for the young class teacher

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Today is a very special day. Your six-year-old pupils were particularly looking forward to this day.

The Zandvoort Grand Prix, which was not too far from the school, would take place at the weekend.

In a few minutes, a very special guest would be coming to your class - the lion class.

Over the last few days, you and your class have organised and prepared a lot to make your guest's time in class as pleasant as possible.

A satisfied smile sits firmly on your face as you walk through the rows of tables and put up the children's name tags you have made so that your guest can call them by name.

You then unfold the blackboard to reveal the colourfully painted greeting.

Written in orange chalk in the centre is the words Welcome Max Verstappen.

Your pupils have painted a few trophies around it, as well as chequered flags and racing cars.

A glance at the clock hanging above the classroom door tells you that it is about time for the first pupils to arrive.

Shortly afterwards, the first pupils enter your classroom with big smiles on their faces. Some of the children are already wearing fan merchandise.

After you have greeted each child with a quick hug, the rows of tables slowly start to fill up and an excited murmur goes round the room.

"Good morning my lions", you greet your class with a smile on your lips and a little chant of welcome comes back.

"As you know, we have a visitor coming in a few minutes. But before we get there, I'd like to go through a few things with you about how we're going to behave during this," you begin as you sit down on the edge of your desk and look around the room.

Yesterday you went through the rules for today with your protégés. It is important to you that everything runs smoothly and well today.

It's not a given that someone famous would take the time to answer questions in a class full of six-year-olds.

" Who can tell me the most important things to consider for today? "

Within a few seconds, countless hands shoot into the air.

Your gaze wanders briefly through the rows before you take a boy from your class, who lists all the rules to be observed for the next two lessons.

With a satisfied smile on your lips, you thank the boy and add a sentence or two, telling your charges that it's important that they don't talk out of turn and to please come forward if they want to ask Mr Verstappen a question.

You know that the class is pretty excited and probably not everything will go one hundred per cent, but despite all that, you're really confident that it will go well.

Some time passes, during which your class spends painting Max Boliden in bright colours, until there is a knock at the door of your classroom.

Countless heads go up and look over to the door with wide eyes, while one or two squeak out.

You can clearly see the nervousness slowly rising in each of them, even in you.

You wipe your slightly sweaty hands on your black jeans before a smile creeps back onto your lips and a "Come in" leaves your lips.

Shortly afterwards, the door opens and a smiling Max Verstappen steps into your classroom.

As he does every time there's a race weekend, he's wearing one of his team shirts and dark trousers.

"Good morning! "He beams as he enters the classroom and lets his gaze wander round the room.

"Good morning Mr Verstappen! "The class literally shouts in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips.

Point one has already been successful.

"Welcome to the lion class. I am Mrs y/l/n. I'm really pleased to welcome you here today," you greet the Dutchman and hold out your hand to him, which he shakes with a smile.

" I'm delighted to be here today. "

You notice how his eyes linger on you a little longer, so you clear your throat quietly and look back at your protégés, who are scrutinising Max curiously and whispering quietly.

"Look what we've painted for you! " shouts Leona, one of your students, pointing to the blackboard and presenting the colourful picture to Max.

"You drew this especially for me? That's really great! " Max steps a little closer to the board to take a closer look at the artwork.

"And we drew cars too! " shouts the next child and gets Max's attention.

"Did you design new liveries for special Grand Prix races? " Max begins to walk through the rows to take a closer look at the coloured-in cars.

He repeatedly takes time for each of the children to exchange a few sentences with them about their coloured pictures.

Smiling, you watch him and sit back on the edge of your desk.

A glance at the map next to you shows that Max will start by introducing himself and talking about his motorsport career. Afterwards, the children will ask a few questions and get autographs. Finally, there will be a little bobby car race in the schoolyard, where each child will compete against Max himself.

"You're all really great artists. I'll show my team your paintwork and I'm sure something can be done! " Max grins as he walks back to the blackboard with the pile of leaves.

Enthusiastic murmurs go through the class as Max begins to prepare for his little talk.

And shortly afterwards, he begins to tell your class, who are literally glued to his lips, about his motorsport career.

During Max's lecture, you sat in the back row to give Max enough space at the front of the blackboard.

His lecture was quite interesting, so now you know a lot more about the Dutchman.

The children had been so quiet throughout the lecture that you are really proud and shower the children with a little praise.

"And now we come to your questions. Now you can ask me anything you've always wanted to know. But think about your question carefully, because everyone is only allowed to ask me one. "

Max holds up his index finger to make it clear to the children that they are really only allowed to ask one question.

"Just one? How am I supposed to decide which question to ask? " Liana's sad voice sounded from the front, causing Max to start smiling.

" You'll manage that, Liana. Take some time to think of a good question," you reassure the little blonde-haired girl, whereupon Max gives you a grateful look.

" Who wants to start asking me a question? " As Max's gaze begins to wander around the class, countless little fingers are raised in the air.

One or two of them even start to kneel on the chair so that they can stick their finger higher in the air and be seen better by Max.

" Finn ", Max takes the first boy.

" Would you like to drive for Red Bull forever or for Mercedes or Ferrari? "

The Red Bull driver leans against your desk and rests his hands slightly to the right and left of him as he begins to think for a moment.

Your protégés look eagerly at their star and wait for an answer.

"I actually feel incredibly comfortable in my team and so far there's no reason for me to leave. I get on well with everyone in the team and we have a good working relationship so that everything runs as smoothly as it should. I'll never rule out a change, because you never know what's to come, but so far I can reassure you and tell you that I'm not considering a change. "

A sigh of relief goes through the class, which makes you grin.

In fact, most of your class are Max and Red Bull fans.

" Who is your favourite team colleague? " Joleen asks Max after he has taken her on.

"So far I've got on really well with all my team mates and we've all got on really well, but if I had to choose a team mate who I've got on best with, I'd say Daniel. The two of us not only get on particularly well in Formula 1, but also in our private lives. "

In fact, you've already guessed this answer, as you could always clearly see how well Max and Daniel got on and harmonised with each other.

You still mourn the time when Max and Daniel were team-mates. That time really was by far one of the funniest content times at Red Bull Racing.

A few more interesting questions were asked, which Max answered in detail, such as his favourite colour, which is blue, his favourite food, which was tomato soup and the question about his pets, Jimmy and Sassy two Bengals cats.

"Is there anyone else who hasn't asked me a question yet? " Max's gaze travelled around the class.

Even after answering countless questions, he still seemed pretty relaxed and happy.

"Mrs y/l/n hasn't asked a question yet," Johann takes the floor as all the children turn to look at you.

Max also leans a little more on the desk now as he leans forward to see you in the back row.

" Do you have a question for me? " he grins.

So you start going through all the possible questions that are floating around in your head.

There are a lot of things that would interest you, but they don't belong here right now, so you decide on the simplest question that any teacher would have asked.

" What was your favourite subject at school? "

" Oh, that's really easy! " Max grins and almost claps his hands. " Your teacher will probably rip my head off for this, but I never liked going to school. The only subject I liked was geography. What's your favourite subject? "

Countless voices start shouting their favourite subjects in confusion, which Max takes in his stride with a smile and somehow tries to catch every subject.

To restore some calm, you walk back to the front and start clapping a rhythm, which the children immediately follow and the class becomes quiet again.

A quiet " Wow " leaves Max's lips, who looks at you with fascination and makes the blush rise slightly in your cheeks.

"That's the best way to keep things quiet," you almost babble as you start to clear your desk to give Max a little more space for the upcoming autographs.

You had already cleared out your desk, so there were hardly any things on it. However, you now have to keep your hands busy to avoid blushing even more or doing something stupid.

" Please line up to get an autograph. If you have an autograph, please go and put on your jacket so that we can go out into the school playground straight away. Please keep your voices down," you remind the children, who shortly afterwards line up in front of your desk waiting to sign an autograph.

You take the seat next to the door to keep an eye on the children who are putting on their jackets.

The autograph session goes faster than expected, so that within twenty minutes all the children are standing in the corridor whispering in their jackets and then follow Max and you out into the schoolyard in a duck march.

Yesterday afternoon you had already set up a small parkour, which you will have to drive through today with the two Bobby Cars.

The red and blue Bobby Car are already ready and waiting to be used.

You had even made a small podium out of cardboard boxes and bought small mini trophies to give your offspring the full programme of a racing experience.

While the children would race against Max, you would time them and the three fastest times would end up on the podium.

Max grabs the blue Bobby Car, which just fits half his knee, while Aaron can sit perfectly on the red Bobby Car.

While the two race against each other, the children cheer on Max and Aaron in different groups.

The latter narrowly wins, as Max has a few problems with the only Bobby Car.

Despite all this, the Dutchman doesn't lose the fun of the game, so he competes against every single child with joy and fun, even if it's not enough for one of the three podium places in the end.

Standing proudly on the podium with their trophies, the three winners literally raise their plastic trophies in the air until a couple of water pistols are used to replace the champagne shower and all the children run across the schoolyard screaming and chasing each other.

Smiling, you look after your class as Max stands next to you.

"That was a really nice day. Thank you for preparing so many nice things. I really don't know the last time I really enjoyed a day like this," said Max, smiling and thanking you.

"I also have to thank you. You really put a lot of effort into my class. You were really looking forward to the day, which was a real success. "

You can't stop a smile from forming on your lips as Max gives you a smile and then pulls something out of his trouser pocket.

" I forgot to give you your autograph. "

The Dutchman smiles and hands you the autograph card before also grabbing a water pistol and running over to your class.

Confused, you lower your eyes to the autograph card, which shows a grinning Max in his dark racing suit.

You really have a great class.

Your lions are really lucky to have such a great teacher like you.

You've learnt a lot about me today and I hope I get the opportunity to get to know you a little better.

Why don't you write to me

01*******

[alvojake]

PARK SUNGHOON HARD THOUGHT

「warning」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : after his live, we were all going insane over this, but I know that haze (@pockettwinzz) and bec (@yeonzzzn) were losing their damn minds, and me being the nice friend that I am decided that I would write a lil somethin' for them

「word count」 : 0.6k

you knew that your boyfriend had been going to the gym more here recently because jake started begging him to go. what you didn't realize was how much muscle he was gaining. not until you tagged along with the duo, not in the mood to sit at home and be lazy.

you had been walking on the treadmill, watching as jake and sunghoon were lifting weights. almost choking on your water when sunghoon flexed, showcasing just how much his biceps have grown.

trying to keep your cool, you tore your eyes away, pleading with your brain to stop wandering off. it was no use, though. all that plagued your mind was your boyfriend's arms and how easily he could pick you up and manhandle you in any way he desired. it made you all hot and bothered, eyes stealing glances at him.

what you didn't know, though, was that jake had caught you staring and mentioned it to sunghoon. smirking to himself, he watched your reflection in the mirror, catching your stare. he then started flexing his arms more just to rile you up, enjoying the way that you kept rubbing your hand over your face or patting the sides of your thighs as you walked, trying to distract yourself. however, the most tale-tell sign that he was getting to you was how you kept your legs close together, your thighs rubbing together.

oh, how he was going to ruin you when you both got back to your shared apartment. so he could give you an up-close view of his arms that you seem to be drooling over.

~

"you like how easy I can pick you up, don't you?" sunghoon chuckled against your ear as he pressed you between the shower wall and his body. his cock sliding against your gummy walls with such force that it left you seeing white.

"h-hoon-" you choked out a moan as he brushed over your sweet spot, hand gripping the back of his neck for support.

sunghoon's arms flexed as he moved your legs, practically folding your body in half as he situated your legs to hang over his shoulder. he loved having you in this position because not only could he watch as his cock disappeared in your dripping heat, but he could also see every twist of pleasure that overcame your features.

your hand slipped from his neck, nails digging into the pale skin of his chest, feeling the muscles flex under your fingertips. your mind was reeling as he continued to fuck into your tight pussy, hands gripping your hips with enough force to leave bruises for days.

"i bet watching me lift those weights turned you on so much," he teased, his lips pulling up into a smirk, his canines poking out. you whined, head falling back to rest on the cool tile wall. "don't worry, baby, i'll show you just how much i can throw you around."

with those words, your orgasm washed over your body, legs trembling next to his head, and your eyes rolled back. your ears started to ring as your hands found purchase on his forearms, fingers digging into his skin when his pace didn't relent.

"sunghoon, fuck!" you cried out as he delivered a particularly hard thrust, stars dancing across your vision.

he let your legs down to wrap around his waist as his hands found your ass cheeks, still moving you along his length. stepping out of the shower, he walked you both back to the bedroom, dropping you on the bed, not caring that either of you was still dripping with water or that the now cold shower was still running in the other room. he only had one goal in mind at the moment.

and that was to completely ruin you.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[pathologicalreid]

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

part two

[ellemj]

What Am I To You?

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Summary: You pissed your fuck buddy off and now he only has one question, but it takes a few orgasms to get the right answer out of you.

Warnings: profanity, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, facesitting, light choking, light breeding kink, no use of y/n, praise, spanking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings. Thank you to @littlemiss-yeehaw for the ones listed above, she's a gem.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: This filth came from a random 4am thought that created the dialogue in the first paragraph. I had to use it. Everyone should totally beg @littlemiss-yeehaw to post the horny lil sketch she started for this one-shot. Side note, should I start a tag list for people who want to be tagged in all fics I post? Idk, I'm still way too new to Tumblr to be running a blog like this lmfao. I need a team of advisors.

         “Do you know who the fuck you’re talking to? Get on the bed, I’ll show you.” You stay where you are, standing in the doorway of his bedroom with your arms crossed over your chest in a show of defiance. “Get on the fucking bed, right now.” He repeats, pointing a finger at his bed. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s seconds away from dishing out a punishment, one that he’ll enjoy far more than you, so you shuffle forward and crawl onto the bed as he watches. Good girl.

You’ve been here before. You know what he wants from you. He wants you on your hands and knees, with no looking back over your shoulder to see what’s coming. So that’s how you settle yourself, on your hands and knees, staring down at the soft, ruffled up bedding beneath you.

“What am I to you?” He asks, his tone scarily calm and even. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. What kind of answer is he looking for? You’re just fuck buddies. You use each other to de-stress after missions. It’s never been anything more, not once in the past two months that it’s been going on has there ever been so much as a hint that it could be something more.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly. You listen intently as the familiar sound of Bucky’s belt buckle coming undone fills the silence in the room. A chill races through your body, dancing across the surface of your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“You don’t know…” Bucky tsks. You can’t see him, but he’s standing a couple of feet away from the foot of the bed, letting his eyes rake over your nearly exposed ass as he unbuttons his shirt. The little black dress that you’re wearing barely covers anything with the position you’re in, and he’s fucking thankful for it. In fact, if you hadn’t pissed him off tonight, he probably would’ve found some way to fuck you during the mission just because of that dress. But you pissed him off. “I’ll help you figure it out.” Bucky steps forward now, his warm right hand and cool, metal left hand both gracing the skin of your right ankle as he begins taking off your heels. He drops one to the floor before moving on to the other, and then he strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side as well.

“I thought we were just—”

“You don’t want to finish that sentence.” Bucky warns, effectively cutting you off and giving you a chance to save yourself. It’s beyond clear now that this isn’t just a fuck buddies situation to him anymore. It did start out that way though. Two months ago when you two stumbled into bed together, he proposed a friends-with-benefits type of relationship so casually that you would’ve thought he’d had plenty of them in his lifetime. It worked so well, with the two of you meeting up once or twice a week at either your place or his to blow off steam with good sex. It wasn’t until you were a month in that Bucky started to realize he hated the way you’d leave within half an hour of finishing each other off. He hated that you never slept over. He hated that you still had the freedom to talk to other guys, hell, you could even go out on dates with other guys if you wanted and he wouldn’t be able to say shit about it. Because this was nothing. It was just a casual agreement between friends.

Bucky trails his fingers along your calves slowly, taking his time as he decides what he’s going to do with you. Every other time that you’ve been together, he’s let it be a mutually beneficial thing. There was never a time where only one of you pleased the other, because that would’ve defeated the purpose of the arrangement. He would’ve been perfectly content with solely pleasuring you here and there, giving you everything while taking nothing for himself, but you always reciprocated and he never stopped you. But now, he’s going to do exactly what he wants. He’s going to show you what he is to you in the best way that he knows how: by making you come undone for him, by reminding you that no one else has ever or will ever make you feel the way that he can.

As Bucky pulls his hands away from your calves, you hear the sound of his pants dropping to the floor, the sound of his dog tags shifting around his neck and tapping against his bare chest with his movements, and then the sound of a deep sigh leaving his lips. Anticipation courses through your veins and mixes with adrenaline, creating a dangerous compound that only seems to encourage the wetness seeping into your panties. You shift on the bed, wiggling your hips and wishing you could clench your thighs together for even the smallest amount of friction. Bucky, of course, notices you moving and quickly gains control of the situation.

“Impatient, huh? Do you need something?” He questions slyly, letting his hands connect with your calves once again. You’re fooled by his gentle touch, your body not at all expecting his flesh hand to suddenly smack against your ass. “Answer me.” Holy shit. He’s never been quite like this with you before.

“I need you.” You answer, hoping he’ll give you anything in return.

“You don’t even know what I am to you, yet you need me?”

“Bucky…” Your voice trails off as his hands glide further up your legs, past the crooks of your knees and along the sides of your thighs. When both of his hands reach the curve of your ass, he begins pushing the hem of your dress up around your waist. The silence is deafening.

He wasn’t planning to be so rough with you, but as soon as his eyes land on the tiny black thong that was previously hidden beneath your tiny black dress, his hands start functioning on autopilot. A low groan rumbles past his lips as he pulls your panties to the side with his vibranium hand and shoves two fingers into your cunt, without a single breath of a warning.

“BUCKY!” You cry out, arching your back and trying to pull away from him. He moves his vibranium hand to grip your left hip, holding you firmly in place while his fingers are still buried knuckle-deep within you. Giving you little time to adjust, he begins sliding them in and out, in and out, giving himself a chance to feel how wet and tight you are for him. Fuck. It’s going to test every bit of his resolve and self-discipline to get through what he plans to do to you tonight.

“That’s it, say my name.” He encourages you, pumping his fingers in and out at a steady pace. When he leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, you fist the bedding in both hands and squeeze your eyes shut. Breathy moans and curses fall from your lips as his tongue circles over the most sensitive part of your body, all while his two fingers are curling inside of you. You’ve never been one to go careening toward an orgasm with little-to-no effort, but Bucky is skilled. That familiar knot is twisting tighter and tighter in your lower stomach as he relentlessly toys with your pussy.  He can tell you’re already close to your first orgasm of the night, and as much as he wants to withhold it until you admit that he means something to you, he wants to see you come undone for him even more.

“Bucky, I’m close.” Your voice is breathless, all of your energy is focused on actively denying yourself of your release. For the briefest second, you wonder why your body won’t just go ahead and cum, but then you realize that you want his permission. You want him to tell you to let go, to cum on his fingers and lips. Bucky fucks his fingers into you a little harder and deeper, reaching a spot that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your toes curling. Another loud moan from you has Bucky digging his vibranium fingers into your hip with enough force to leave bruises. He knows you’re right on the edge, and it takes him only a second to figure out why you’re not letting go. He pulls his head back for a moment but lets his fingers continue their work.

“Do you want to cum for me, baby?” He asks. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that sends heat rushing to your cheeks. You nod your head fervently and he chuckles at your neediness. “Who gets you this wet? This desperate for release?” Fuck.

“You, Bucky.” You moan out your response as he pulls his fingers nearly all the way out and slides them back in at the slowest pace yet.

“Who else?” He demands to know, picking up the pace once again.

“No one, only you.” Your answer is honest and it earns you his mouth back on your clit. He sucks and licks at it like his life depends on your impending orgasm. He gets you right back to the edge within seconds, before breaking away from your clit momentarily just to say cum for me. Your orgasm washes over you in an instant, your pussy clenching down on his two fingers as you unintentionally grind against his mouth. He flattens his tongue against your clit and lets you take everything you need. After a few more seconds of immense pleasure, the legs and arms that have been so dutifully holding you up are threatening to collapse.

“What am I to you?” Bucky repeats his question from earlier, but still, your answer is the same.

“I don’t know.” Your voice is quieter now, weaker since the first orgasm took so much energy out of you. Bucky shakes his head, though you can’t see him from your current position. He didn’t think you’d have a better answer after just one orgasm, but he’s going to give you a chance after each one anyway.

“Lay on your back.” Bucky commands. You do as you’re told. As you finally make eye contact with him, he can see the thankfulness in your gaze. You were getting tired of holding the same position. Bucky steps forward and places one knee on the bed, his hands sliding up your thighs. His fingers snag along the waistband of your thong before he begins pulling it down your legs. You bend your knees to make it easier, and he slips it off gently before dropping it on the floor with your heels and his clothes. He climbs onto the bed now, your legs instantly spreading to let him between them. He crawls over your body and the new sensation of his warm skin against yours is delicious. You wish he would’ve taken your dress off already. When you feel the outline of his hard cock, still covered by his boxers, pressing against your wet, sensitive cunt, your eyes flutter closed and your legs instinctively wrap around his hips. You’ve always been a sucker for this, for having him pressed against you so close yet not close enough. It’s always made you a bit feral and Bucky’s fully aware of that. A knowing smirk spreads across his features as he puts a little more weight into your position, pressing his cock against you a little harder. When you open your eyes and look up at him, he has to remind himself that he can’t just give in a fuck the shit out of you right now. He has an end goal.

“Why do we still have clothes on?” You ask, referring to your dress and his boxers. Bucky chuckles lowly starts circling his hips against you, drawing a soft hum from your pretty lips. He dips his head down and starts leaving light kisses along the side of your neck. He knows that’s a weakness of yours too, his mouth anywhere on your skin. It’s one of the first tactics he deploys when he wants to fuck but he isn’t sure if you’re up for it or not.

“Do you want our clothes off?” Bucky breathes the question against the skin just below your earlobe and you find yourself having trouble concentrating. He can feel you nod, but he doesn’t actually give a damn about what you want right now. He’s not a monster though, so he’ll give you half of what you want. He pushes himself off of you in one swift movement and stands on the floor beside the bed. You turn your head to watch as he slides his boxers down his legs and kicks them off. They join the pile that consists of the rest of his clothes, your heels, and your thong on the floor. When he returns to his position on top of you, you stick out your bottom lip in a pout over him not removing your dress. He’s quick to lean in and suck that bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down on it lightly before slipping his tongue into your mouth. He always tastes so fucking good, though you can never pinpoint what he tastes like. It’s just him. Honestly, you’d let him spit in your mouth if he wanted to.

Bucky kisses a lot like he fucks, with so much passion that it makes your heart race and your mind reel. It makes you think about how mediocre every other kiss with any other guy was, about how kissing was just a minor part of foreplay until you started kissing him. Now kissing is everything. Your hands travel up his sides and settle on either side of his face as you fight to deepen the kiss. When you suck on his tongue, he groans into your mouth and pulls back. You love the way his lips and nose get pink when he kisses you like that.

“No more kissing.” Bucky rasps. You let out a whine that makes his cock twitch. He loves hearing how needy you are for him, but it’s especially enjoyable when he hears how needy you are just for him to kiss you. He starts grinding his now bare cock along the folds of your pussy with just the right amount of pressure, focusing his efforts on your clit. He probably should’ve used his mouth and fingers again for this one, because he’s far too close to cumming just from feeling how wet you are against his shaft. His cock collects your wetness more and more with each thrust of his hips, and for a second he thinks about just letting the tip slide in. He won’t do it though, not yet. He won’t put his cock inside of you until he’s ready to make you cum for the third time.

“You’re being a tease tonight.” You pout, letting your hands find his hips and using your grasp there to pull him harder against you. He stills himself and you let out a frustrated sigh. Why isn’t he giving you more?

“You’re being greedy. You already came once, you should be saying thank you.” Bucky retorts, pushing himself up with his hands and sitting back on his knees between your legs. Your eyes are quick to zone in on his cock, just as his flesh hand is wrapping around it and giving it a firm stroke from the base to the tip. God, you’ve always loved seeing him touch himself. He doesn’t do it in front of you often. Normally the two of you are quick to get down to business and just fuck, but there have been a few very memorable times where you get to see him stroke his cock right before he guides it inside of you. Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip, and for a second Bucky imagines that same tongue all over his fucking cock. No. This isn’t about him tonight. This is about finally making you see what’s been right in front of you all along.

“Please.” The word leaves your lips so softly, so gently, that Bucky’s hand hesitates around his length. He’s never heard you beg before. You’ve never had a reason to, he always gave you what you needed, before you had to ask. A dark feeling settles within his chest as he realizes he likes it.

“Please?” He repeats the word, as if he doesn’t understand the meaning. You see the way his gaze changes from one of lust to one of pure desire. He wants more.

“Please, Bucky. Fuck me.” You give him the most innocent look you can muster up as you lay there in his bed with your pussy exposed and nearly dripping onto his bedding. He tightens his fist around the base of his cock and scrunches his eyes closed, clearly trying to talk himself down from blowing his load way too fucking soon. If he sits there and looks at you any longer, he won’t last, he won’t be able to make it to his end goal tonight. The only thing he can think of to keep himself on track is something that’ll easily obscure his vision of you.

“No, you’re going to sit on my face.” He says roughly, positioning himself on his back next to you. He looks over at you impatiently, he almost looks offended that you’re not already changing positions for him. You’re quick to sit up and swing a leg over his torso, straddling his chest but not making any contact with him yet. “I said my face, sweetheart.”

“I know, but—” You’re about to point out that he’s already eaten you out once tonight and you haven’t even had the chance to reciprocate, when he abruptly grasps your thighs and pulls you over his head. “Fuck.” You mumble the curse word out as he easily pulls you down, your cunt making contact with his mouth as he dives in. You can’t form a single thought as his tongue delves into you. He fucks you with it almost as thoroughly as he did with his fingers just a few minutes ago, thrusting it in and out while your clit brushes against the tip of his nose. His hands slide back to grip your ass and you have to brace your hands on the headboard to keep from putting your full weight on his face. He can feel your resistance and he hates it. He lifts you up an inch just to chastise you.

“I said sit on my fucking face, not hover over it.” He pulls you down again but this time he brings his right hand in to rub harsh circles against your clit as his tongue continues its work on your entrance. You’re panting and breaking out in a sweat within a few seconds. You still haven’t fully sat on his face, so he’s going to give you one more punishment and see if you’ll give in. His vibranium hand moves away from you and the swings back once more, slapping your ass so hard that you fall forward a bit, your cunt landing firmly against Bucky’s mouth. He hums against your pussy in approval, and the sound sends vibrations through your core. Fuck. You’re going to cum a second time and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. When he sets just the right pressure and pace with his flesh fingers on your clit, and his tongue starts lapping into you like eating pussy is his fucking career, your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your chest is heaving and your knuckles are turning white as your death grip on the headboard threatens to bruise your palms.

“Fuck, I’m cumming. Oh my god, Bucky!” You cry the words out so loudly, yet your voice sounds so far away in your own ears as your orgasm short circuits your entire nervous system. After a few seconds, you realize you’re grinding lazy circles against Bucky’s mouth, and he’s letting you. “Shit.” You mutter, using all of your remaining strength to try to dismount his face. He grasps your thighs to stop you, and then places a long, gentle kiss right against your clit, sucking on it in the slightest bit as he pulls back. Then, he lets you go. You collapse on the bed next to him, your breasts threatening to spill over the low-cut neckline of your dress from tonight’s activities thus far.

“What am I to you?” Bucky asks a third time, rolling onto his side to face you. He gazes at you with a much gentler expression than earlier as he brushes a few loose strands of hair away from your face. He thinks you look so damn perfect like this. You always glow after sex, but after two orgasms you could be mistaken for the fucking sun.

“Bucky…” Your voice trails off as you desperately search your brain for the answer he’s looking for. He obviously doesn’t want you to say that he’s your fuck buddy, and maybe he isn’t. You probably shouldn’t feel as jealous as you do when he ends up on missions with Sharon instead of you, that’s not very fuck-buddy-friendly of you. You also probably shouldn’t hate the few minutes after sex when he’s catching his breath in bed while you’re pulling your clothes on, hoping he won’t be annoyed with how long it takes you to get out of his apartment. Maybe you’re more than fuck buddies. But still, you don’t know what to call it. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure.” Bucky repeats slowly, as if he’s tasting the words. His facial expression remains gentle, but the light in his eyes darkens. “Take off your dress.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You push yourself up and sit on the side of the bed before pulling the dress over your head and letting it fall to the floor. You haven’t even had the chance to lay back down when he starts moving to sit right behind you, letting his legs come around either side of you so your back presses against his chest. Ah, you see where he’s going with this. The wall that you’re both now facing has a tall standing mirror, giving you the perfect view of your naked body in front of his in the dim light of his bedroom. “Look at yourself.” Bucky coos, cupping your chin with his flesh hand and tilting your head up the tiniest bit. “So fucking pretty.”

His words have you blushing for some reason. Of all of the times you’ve been naked in his bed, you don’t recall him ever saying sweet things to you just for the sake of saying them. Maybe he thought them, you wouldn’t know, but he sure as hell never said them. It sends a wave of warmth throughout your body, and your already pink-tinged cheeks take on another layer of blush. With almost no effort, Bucky places his hands on your hips and pushes you up to a standing position. He then tucks his legs between yours and then grips his cock in his hand. He gives it a few slow pumps before angling you above it and then guiding you to sit down. Right on his fucking dick. The moan that leaves your lips as your head falls back against his shoulder could’ve come from amateur porn. The penetration feels as if it’s happening in slow motion, as you take one-fourth, then half, then three-fourths, and then…his entire fucking cock inside of you.

“That’s it, baby, all of it.” Bucky begins peppering kisses across your neck and right shoulder, but his eyes are locked on the mirror, staring at where the two of you are connected. “Whose fingers make you cum?” He asks, as his right hand skims down your side, straight to your clit. He uses his middle and ring fingers to start gently massaging your already-sensitive clit. You lift your head to meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Yours.” You answer quietly, slowly beginning to slide up and down his length. You’re only moving an inch at a time, not yet adjusted nor ready to fuck his cock how it deserves to be fucked.

“Good girl.” Why does such simple praise from him make you feel like you’re having a mini orgasm on the spot? Jesus. You start fucking half of his cock now, lifting yourself up and then sitting back down, but not daring to pull off anywhere near the tip. “Whose mouth makes you cum?”

“Yours.” You say again, a little louder this time as the pleasure begins building low in your stomach once more.

“That’s right, you’re doing so good for me, baby.” Bucky picks up the pace with his hand. His work on your clit is making stars flash in your vision and your pussy continuous clench around his cock. “And who do you let cum in this perfect little pussy? Huh? Who does this belong to?” He asks, his eyes once again drifting down in the mirror until they land on where his cock is disappearing inside of you. He groans as you sit fully down on it again.

“You, Bucky.” You moan, now fully adjusted to his thick length. You start bouncing on it, unable to control yourself any longer. Bucky’s having none of that. He quickly slides his flesh hand up your stomach, between your breasts, and wraps it around your neck. He isn’t choking you, he’s merely gaining your full attention with an authoritative move. You freeze, your eyes locking onto his in the mirror as you sit there with his entire length inside of you.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, and then I’m going to cum inside you so fucking deep that you might end up pregnant.” His filthy words give you as much pleasure as any touch, any kiss, any physical thing he could ever do to you. Your pussy tightens around him at the promise that he’s just spoken. “Now tell me, why would you be here right now, letting me do that? What am I to you?”

“Everything.”

Finally, you gave him the right answer.

[astonmartinii]

reluctant cupid | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x fem bff!reader

you could set your bestie up with a driver or you could confess your feelings? lando norris is dumb.

based on this request: Could you write something about being best friends with lando and he tries to help set you up with another driver you have a crush on, but then he realises he actually likes you so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and you end up together Idk if that makes sense 😭🫶🏼🫶🏼 -@mbappesleftthigh

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 49,340 others

yourusername: someone please save me from the grips of hinge and this oh so lonesome life

view all comments

user1: girl knows the whole f1 paddock and looks like that and is still alone there is NO HOPE for me

user2: this post might have thrown me over the edge

landonorris: "i'm so lonely" "why don't you approach that guy" "no too scary"

user3: that's so real though

yourusername: thank you!

landonorris: how do you expect to find a boyfriend when you don't like to talk to anyone and treat hinge like a gameshow

yourusername: i didn't come here for actual advice let me commiserate in peace. god, can women have anything these days?

landonorris: ???

yourusername: oh! idea! pretty please set me up with one of your friends? they have to be great otherwise you wouldn't be friends with them, right? RIGHT?

landonorris: i guess...

yourusername: please lando, i've never asked for anything before

landonorris: i can feel you pouting through the phone

yourusername: so you'll consider ?

landonorris: fine...

user4: bro either gotta admit his feelings now or be condemned to be in the plot of a weird romantic comedy

user5: i personally don't think i can wait until the third act break up with this side character LANDO ACT NOW

oscarpiastri: you'd really trust lando's judgement?

yourusername: he's friends with me, he's got good taste?

oscarpiastri: touche

maxverstappen1: whatever you really wanna say oscar, you gotta keep it in, these idiots will figure it out eventually

yourusername: ???

landonorris: ???

user6: the grid are so done with their asses i can't 😭

user7: but what if the universe doesn't intervene and lando really has just lost the girl forever?

user8: bestie we can't be thinking like this

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 812,047 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: being back home means being bothered by her (and whatever is her newest hyperfixation - it's sylvanian families this month if you couldn't tell)

view all comments

user9: i am so sorry but they are so in love

user10: it's cute in the movies, but these blind bitches are starting to piss me off

yourusername: THEY CAN HEAR YOU, BE A BETTER DAD

landonorris: they're not my children

yourusername: you take that back right now, you LOVE them

landonorris: you spent my money on them yes

yourusername: that's fatherhood, buddy. buckle up

user11: whoever he sets her up (if he's still dumb enough to do that) is gonna be the biggest third wheel in history

user12: who would willingly sign up for that

user13: me. i would. i have two working eyes and have seen y/n

maxverstappen1: who are these funky little critters and how can i procure some for p?

yourusername: finally a man with sense, literally any grocery store or toy store

maxverstappen1: perf

yourusername: if lando stops being mr. grumpy i'll ask him if i can come to a race and p and i can play animal families

landonorris: i am NOT mr. grumpy

maxverstappen1: you kinda are dude. is it the set-up is it stressing you out?

landonorris: nO

yourusername: then why are you putting it off !!! lando i might die from terminal yearning !!!

landonorris: i have an interested candidate

yourusername: really? do you think they'll actually like me? like this isn't a pity date right?

landonorris: nope!

user14: lando is typing through tears as we speak

user15: if y/n does go on a date with someone from the paddock i actually hope it goes well, as one lonely girl to another, it's tough out here we need one win

f1wagupdates

liked by user18, user19 and 11,043 others

tagged: yourusername & carlossainz55

f1wagupdates: turns out lando is a bit of a cupid as his childhood friend y/n y/ln was spotted out and about with carlos sainz.

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user20: HE ACTUALLY DID IT

user21: that moment when you're so down bad for a girl that you set her up with your best friend

user22: that moment when you're such a wimp you can't admit your feelings and set up the girl you like with a literal GREEK GOD

user23: i am so bamboozled by this move he literally looked like a kicked puppy on his stream bro this is your doing 😭

user24: she's a lover girl she's going to get her heart broken :(

user25: this has mess written all over it

user26: she's literally described herself as a terminal yearner i feel like she'll throw herself in and will get hurt

user27: UNLESS! this is all part of the plan? what if lando set her up with a messy guy like carlos so he can be the shoulder to cry on and that's how he slides in?

user28: that's very convoluted, very rom-com but i'll take it if it means we get lando and y/n together in the end

user29: i know this probably won't last long but can we all appreciate how hot this couple is?

user30: lando and y/n runs rings round y/n and carlos

user31: lol lando is a bad friend for setting her up with CARLOS him and charles are THEE red flags

user32: i hope y/n is prepared

user33: also lando hasn't thought it fully out if his plan is to be the shoulder to cry on because he's just opening her up to be called a homie hopper or a paddock bunny

carlossainz55

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 702,554 others

carlossainz55: productive weekend with my girl

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user34: well that's not y/n

user35: that finished faster than i expected

user36: lando DO NOT quit your day job

landonorris: call me bro

carlossainz55: si, cabron

user37: i don't think they'll be cabrons after this call

user38: maybe this is all just going to plan?

user39: yall gotta give up this conspiracy theory maybe these people are just as dumb and mean as they seem to be

user40: soooooo... what did we all do this weeekend?

user41: i broke a girl's heart @carlossainz55 twins 👯‍♂️

user42: AHHHH???

maxverstappen1: oh that's not-

yourusername: you're so chronically online :(

maxverstappen1: you're alive?

yourusername: yes. coming at you live from the bed i'm currently rotting in

maxverstappen1: not going to say i didn't warn you?

carlossainz55: really? in my own comment section?

yourusername: one second, we're having a conversation here

maxverstappen1: yeah carlos, gosh.

carlossainz55: i'm so confused

user43: okay power move to just start a conversation in his comments?

user44: the power of confusion is simply unmatched

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 56,309 others

yourusername: certified boy hater

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user45: a ferrari boy will do that to you

landonorris: feeling hashtag victimised rn

yourusername: obviously doesn't include you girlypop. but you seriously need to reevaluate your judgement

landonorris: carlos is attractive?

yourusername: he ghosted me?

carlossainz55: i am right here

yourusername: blocked.

landonorris: did you actually just block him?

yourusername: yes 😀 !

landonorris: god this is a nightmare

yourusername: not if you'd take a GOD DAMN HINT

landonorris: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

user46: yall this is a public instagram comment section

user47: don't say that, this is their argument in the rain moment

user48: lemme grab the popcorn 🍿

maxverstappen1: this better not include the real number one girlypop here

yourusername: of course not pookie

oscarpiastri: you gonna continue the lil spat above this?

yourusername: no?

oscarpiastri: well some people (max and i) would like to listen so please continue

yourusername: no, i don't think i will

oscarpiastri: GOD YOU PEOPLE ARE INSUFFERABLE

maxverstappen1: what oscar said

user49: oscar and max are so real

user50: they can't leave us on this cliff hanger

landonorris

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,043,788 others

landonorris: some snaps from '23

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user51: have we just been thirst trapped?

user52: i don't think it was intended for us

user53: this has "i am hotter than carlos sainz" written all over it

yourusername: posting tits on main, brave.

landonorris: i came second in singapore.

yourusername: sureeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. modesty, ever heard of it lan?

landonorris: slutshaming isn't cute y/n

yourusername: you kinda have to pull to be a slut lan. you are under qualified for the position

landonorris: if you keep being mean to me i will call your mum or my mum.

yourusername: try it. i see cisca more than you, i have faith in her

landonorris: the line is busy. are you on the phone to MY mum right now?

yourusername: maybe.

user54: we're so close to them getting their heads out of their asses

user55: don't get my hopes up

danielricciardo: i hope this works lol

landonorris: you don't think i'm sexy?

danielricciardo: it doesn't matter what i think

landonorris: i'm not sexy :(

danielricciardo: you're baiting me but yes, you are sexy.

user56: i'll fight anyone who made this man believe he's not beautiful

liked by yourusername

user57: I SAW THAT 📸

user58: someone just lock them in a cupboard at this point

oscarpiastri: noted.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 89,034 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: yeah, yeah. you can stop yelling at us now.

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user61: LET'S FUCKING GO

user62: it was worth all that yelling. i expect an invite to the wedding now.

user63: wedding? girly they only just realised their feelings after a DECADE

maxverstappen1: it was about fucking time

yourusername: okay miss ma'am. some people are EMOTIONALLY VULNERABLE AND NOT VERY GOOD AT PROCESSING THEM

maxverstappen1: you must've been emotionally constipated because this was painful

yourusername: it was painful for me too

maxverstappen1: so painful that you dated CARLOS

yourusername: one date! ONE!

maxverstappen1: carlos said can you unblock him so he can be mean to me?

yourusername: fine.

carlossainz55: STOP MAKING ME LOOK LIKE A BAD PERSON. YES I AM NOT THE BEST AT RELATIONSHIPS BUT LEAVE ME BE

maxverstappen1: lol

yourusername: lol

user64: unblocking carlos to hit him with the lol max and y/n might be more iconic than lando and y/n

landonorris: not on our relationship announcement post 🤨

user65: OOP.

landonorris: i love you doofus

yourusername: i love you too muppet

landonorris: how much was the betting pool for your family?

yourusername: it got to over £300

landonorris: ours was £750

yourusername: are we dumb?

landonorris: no!

oscarpiastri: two dumbass girls saying 'yass' to each other

yourusername: LEAVE US BE

landonorris: oscar :(

user66: not their own families betting on when they'd get together 😭

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,430,778 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: first win, hopefully not my only one.

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user67: MY BABIES

user68: i feel like i've been on this journey with them

oscarpiastri: thank god you guys got your shit together, i was THIS close to jumping out the nearest window if i had to watch lando mope around like a kicked puppy when y/n had the lil thing with carlos

user69: so it wasn't some grand plan?

oscarpiastri: no he's just dumb enough to actually set up his first love with his best friend

landonorris: OSCAR!

oscarpiastri: am i wrong?

landonorris: no... but! i got there in the end

oscarpiastri: good thing you're faster on track

user70: the grid being just as done with them as us is killing me

maxfewtrell: finally this unnecessarily long and overly convoluted saga has come to and end, lets never do this again!

landonorris: i'm locked in for life bro no worries

yourusername: awwwwwwwwwwwwww i love you too bubs

maxfewtrell: stop being sappy under my comment

yourusername: you just complained we didn't sort out our shit fast enough and now we're too sappy?

landonorris: STICK TO A STORY BOZO

maxfewtrell: now you're even more ride or die... can we go back?

yourusername: nope!

landonorris: nope!

maxverstappen1: i for one am very happy for you both

yourusername: thank you max !!

landonorris: not so fast, he had the biggest bet on us in the paddock

yourusername: get that bag sis

landonorris: ???

yourusername: we can't fight it anymore, let them have their jokes, we actually have each other now :)

landonorris: yes we do :) xx

user71: golly gosh this is so fucking cute

fin.

note: i hope this is what you were looking for and that you all enjoyed!! i'm just waiting on my tester sticker sheets for my small business @badlydrawnf1cats on here and on instagram, if you wanna give it a follow x tHANK YOU FOR READING MY LOVES X

[fangirl-dot-com]

🤩Track 8 - Gorgeous

*I am alive!! I apologize for taking so long. I had to finish my internship before I could really start to get back into the groove. so here we go, almost 4k words just for you! lemme know if y'all like the redemption arc!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Logan was on cloud-9 right now. 

Sure, the only person who could rival his good mood was probably Charles, who had just won his home race. But with Logan, he had you in his arms and another trophy to take back to Italy. 

The only issue was that he could feel eyes on him. He had felt it since he shared the podium with the McLaren driver hours before. The sad puppy dog eyes that used to have Logan on beck and call for the boy. The ones that belonged to the person he used to call his best friend. 

Oscar was a mystery that the American couldn’t figure out. 

How much of their childhood was a lie? How much of their “supposed friendship” was all fake? In his heart, Logan still wished that it was all true. That maybe, he could go back in time and live in his F3 era, where he knew that Oscar would always be there for him. 

But, if he did that, then you wouldn’t be in his arms, in the back of Jimmyz after Charles won the 2024 Monaco grand prix. 

As if you could tell something was wrong, you tilted your head to look at Logan, who had a sad look in his eyes. 

“Everything ok Log?” you questioned. 

The blond gave a slight nod before digging his head into your shoulder. You knew that Logan could be a different type of drunk every time the two of you partied. You guessed that Monaco was a sad-drunk Logan, which also meant a very lovey-dovey Logan. 

Your hand reached up and scratched his head, making him lean into your palm. You knew that Oscar was watching, he always was. His eyes were on the two of you like glue ever since the club mishap after the opening race back in January. 

You and Logan wouldn’t admit it, but the months in between the argument and Imola were some of the worst months for the both of you. If you thought being in Indy was isolating, you couldn’t compare the weeks of silence. Then again, it was mainly silence from you and Logan. But you two had been hurt and it was easier to build up walls again then let people in. 

Now, it was better. You and Logan made use of the on-team therapists that the team provided. They helped you get through things that you didn’t even know were problems until you talked about it. 

And a few of those discussions were about Oscar.  

A part of you wanted to push Logan in the Aussie’s arms and make sure that they apologized to each other. You could tell that Oscar wasn’t having the best season. His Monaco placing of P3 was the highest he had reached. Imola before that wasn’t the best. 

On the other hand, if they apologized and were friends again, where would that leave you? Deep down, you knew that Logan wouldn’t abandon you. But sometimes, the past liked to repeat itself. You had friends that dropped you so quickly and you couldn’t afford to lose Logan like you lost your other friends. 

Your therapist had mentioned that you had attachment and abandonment issues after everything you had been through. You weren’t going to argue with her as it made sense. You were scared of being replaced, that was it. 

When Oscar met your eyes, you flashed him a quick smile. However, that had the Aussie turn his eyes away and to the floor, which made you frown. Maybe if you could be nice to Oscar, Logan and him could make up. 

A snort from Logan had you looking away from where Oscar sat. A soft smile made its way to your lips as you looked up at Logan. 

“What is it?” 

He leaned in to your ear to whisper, “Look at Charles right now.” 

You looked around for the Monegasque and completely lost it when you noticed his Monaco flag covering his face, or well, his entire torso. What had you more intrigued was Max, who had Charles’s hand in his as he dragged the probably black-out-drunk man into a quieter corner. 

“Is there something going on between them?” you asked. 

A hum came from Logan. “I don’t know. If there is, they’re not being very discreet.” 

You leaned back into his chest. “You can’t talk Mr. Kiss Me On The Podium.” 

Logan whined, “It was one time.” 

You took your phone out and your eyes widened at the time. “We should probably get back to the hotel. It’s nearly 3 in the morning.” 

The blond nodded and grabbed your hand, much like Max did with Charles. The two of you dodged and weaved through multiple people as they also congratulated Logan on his race. Yours wasn’t as impressive as you crossed the line in P4. 

As you led Logan away, you passed by Oscar’s table. 

“Congrats on P3,” you said, hoping that he’d heard you over the music. 

Oscar, at first, hadn’t thought you were talking to him. But, the words “congrats” and “P3” made it clear that you were, indeed, talking to him. His eyes widened as he looked up at you. Logan behind wasn’t really paying attention, and Oscar didn’t know whether to feel glad or deflated. 

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” 

You didn’t respond, but that same lopsided smile was flashed his way before you turned around and dragged Logan to the front, leaving Oscar frozen in his seat. 

A long sigh left his lips as he put his head down on the table. He didn’t know what to do. Logan had been his best friend, there was no lie about that. But with McLaren and all the success, he had pushed the American to the point of no-return. And he was dealing with the consequences. A firm hand landed on his shoulder, making him look up. 

His eyes, now partially watery, met the blue ones of George Russell. 

George was expecting Oscar to have fallen asleep, because if there was anyone who could close his eyes and nap at a club, it would be Oscar. However, he wasn’t expecting the younger man to be close to tears. 

The Briton quickly sat down next to the Australian. 

“What the matter Oscar? Not happy with P3?” 

That did it. 

It was only a matter of minutes before the floodgates opened and Oscar began to sob. George’s eyes widened in a panic, not knowing what to do with a sobbing Oscar. He frantically looked around, trying to find someone who could help him. 

His eyes landed on Charles and Max, but by the way they were both swaying, neither of them would be very much help. 

He glanced to the other side, eyes connecting with Lewis. He made a weird motion to the heap on the table that was Oscar and wildly beckoned him over. 

The older Briton picked up what George was putting down and ended his conversation. He walked swiftly over and sat on the other side of Oscar. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Lewis questioned, now hearing the very clear sobs. 

George ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I congratulated him on P3, and he just started crying.” 

“He didn’t even look at me,” came a wail from Oscar. 

Lewis was now confused. “Charles looked at you a bunch mate.” 

“No!” Oscar sat up, fire in his eyes. To George and Lewis, he looked like a very peeved kitten. “Logan!” 

George was even more confused. “Logan?” 

Oscar sadly nodded, lip pouting. “Our first podium and he didn’t even look at me.” 

His head thunked back on the table, which made the two Mercedes drivers want to laugh. Lewis took a deep breath before putting his hand on Oscar’s back. 

“Mate, the two of you aren’t exactly friends right now.” 

That made Oscar quickly sit up, and more tears fell from his eyes. “B-but, he’s my best friend. I didn’t mean to push him away.” 

George sadly smiled. “Does Logan know that?” 

Oscar looked at the Briton. “He won’t let me talk to him. He turns away. Even Y/n talks to me sometimes but he won’t. I just want my friend back.” 

Another set of wails fell from his lips, making some people look in their direction. George grit his teeth as he tried to comfort Oscar. He hadn’t expected the Aussie to be so heartbroken about this. 

Lewis leaned in so that Oscar could hear him. “Well, then you just have to make him listen. Logan is guarded, so you have to keep pushing.” 

A sniff came from Oscar. 

“But what if he never forgives me?” 

“Then he won’t. But you would be able to apologize and move on.” 

That was definitely the wrong choice of words as Oscar started to sob once more. George sent Lewis a stink eye over the sobbing heap of McLaren driver. 

The younger Briton took a deep breath. “Lewis didn’t mean it like that. He’s just saying that you have to give Logan the chance to know that you are sorry and process things. It took him almost three months for him to forgive Lewis, Max, and Charles.” 

That at least got Oscar to stop sobbing. George made a mental note that Oscar was a sad-type of drunk. He was only hoping that you and Logan were doing fine, knowing that Logan tended to get sappy when drunk as well. 

However, it was about the same in the hotel that you were staying at. Logan had unexpectedly started crying in the car, making you panic. By the time you got him to the room, he was almost in hysterics. 

You had no clue what to do as Logan flopped face down on the bed. His sobs were still audible through the multiple blankets. You sat next to his head and rubbed his back. 

“Logan, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.” 

You knew he said something, coming from the muffles. You rolled your eyes, even if he couldn’t see them. 

“I can’t hear you through the blanket.” 

Logan pushed himself up, letting you see his red eyes and tear streaks. 

“Oscar hates me,” he wailed and flopped back face down. 

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with him. Obviously, the Aussie didn’t hate Logan. In fact, you think that Oscar is very sorry for what happened between them. You pushed all your feelings aside, wanting to help your boyfriend. 

“Baby, I don’t think Oscar hates you.” 

The sobbing blond turned his head. “But I yelled at him.” 

“You yelled at Max, Charles, and Lewis. Do they hate you?” 

There was some silence before he spoke up again and huffed. “No.” 

You giggled. “So why do you think that Oscar hates you?” 

Logan’s lip wobbled as he spoke. “Because he was so distant. I tried talking to him, and he kept pushing me away.” 

You thought for a moment. “You both were rookies with a lot on your plate. And, he had a pretty mean teammate. Maybe think about that?” 

Logan nodded. In his drunk mind, his thoughts were all over the place. But deep down, he knew that Oscar may have not meant to be distant. There was a difference between Williams and McLaren. The Aussie might have had more pressure than what he wanted to tell anyone. 

When he finally looked up at you, you could see the puppy dog eyes. Those bright ocean blue eyes that you loved so much. You always felt like you might sink, drown, and die in them. Logan sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on your lap. His arms came around your waist to hold you. 

“What if we invite him to paddle in Canada?” he whispered, a bit nervous to your reaction. 

He knew that you dealt with some abandonment issues and didn’t want you thinking that he’d replace you if him and Oscar miraculously saved their friendship. So, by asking to invite him to paddle, it wouldn’t just be the two of them. 

He opened his eyes to see your reaction and was pleased with the soft look in your eyes. “We can do that baby.” 

“You’re so gorgeous. I love you.” 

You snorted, not expecting that. “I love you too, Logan.” 

A soft snore was your answer, making you giggle again. You gently rolled Logan onto his side of the bed and undressed him down to his boxers. You knew he tended to overheat, and sleeping in jeans was never fun for anyone. 

You stripped as well, but took one of Logan’s shirts out of his suitcase to use as pajamas. The bottom of the t-shirt ended a bit above mid-thigh. It was perfect.

When Canada arrived two weeks late, it was wet and cold. The race was a perfect reflection of the weather. You and Logan couldn’t be bothered by either of you not getting pole. In fact, you both almost ran over George when he managed to set the fastest time right before Max. 

The two of you, of course, hugged Max with the same ferocity. With Charles, you both hugged him a bit sweeter. You and Logan had made it to the lower ranks of Q3. Charles almost made it but was knocked out by Lance. 

Oscar stood by the sides, watching you two do a quick debrief with your small group of friends. Even Lewis, who had normally stayed away after quali-sessions, was excitedly waving his hands around, happy to be in the front of the pack for this race. 

The Aussie almost looked away, but Logan had decided to look in his direction, locking eyes with him. Oscar was ready for a sour expression, but was confused at the small smile the American threw his way. He quickly flashed one back before Logan’s attention went back to you and Max, who seemed to be in a very serious conversation. 

It really wasn’t as Max was telling you about his cats, but Oscar didn’t know. 

He was brought out of his staring by Lando wrapping an arm around him. He was then led away, but he quickly glanced back. You had caught his eyes this time, giving him the same smile that you had at the club. But this time, Oscar was brave enough to smile back. 

When his teammate dragged him away, you turned back to the group. “Are we all good for paddle on Monday? I know it’s very quick after the race.” 

George nodded. “I can come. Is it just us?” 

Logan chewed his lip. “I think I might invite Oscar?” 

Four pairs of wide eyes stared at him in disbelief. But they quickly smiled at him. 

Charles, who had made his way over after qualifying, said, “I think that’s very nice of you.” 

Logan nodded, sighing softly. “You guys don’t have to come.” 

Max wrapped an arm around him. “We won’t leave you to the wolves. Y/n could take care of you if we can’t make it. I’ll let you know on Monday morning.” 

The Ferrari driver grumbled a bit. “I just want to get through tomorrow.” 

lamborghini_racing has posted

liked by sargeantgirlie, Dior, lambo&co, and 3,204,284 others

lamborghini_racing tough race, but we'll get them next time. guess the bees don't like the rain 🐝

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lambo_duo we'll get them next time! still leading both championships!!

papa_tonino corsa superba. coraggio, ci arriverai la prossima volta 👏 (superb racing. chins up, you'll get there next time)

allofitaly what papa tonino said - Spain is ours !!

formula_delulu lando should have gotten a worse penalty. five seconds is nothing when George was almost 10+ behind

lestappenlove this just shows that lamborghini is more consistent. p2 and p3 should have been ours but whatever. heartbroken for Ferrari, Williams, and Lambo

Logan remembered how Charles grumbled as he had to hoist himself out of his car in the middle of the race. He was grumbling the same way. There were only ten laps left with Max in the lead, you and him trailing behind the Dutchman. However, it seemed like one of the McLaren drivers wanted to go bowling after getting a pitstop with new tyres. 

Everyone knew the track was cold, reflecting the rainy atmosphere. Going for gaps on cold tyres was not something that should be done. However, Lando wasn’t everyone. 

After coming out of the pits, he had barreled past you and then past him, clipping his tyre, which sent him turning back into you, ultimately resulting in a double DNF. He had made sure that you were fine as he helped you out of your car. You had gotten shunted more than he did, but he was still sore. 

It was silence in the recovery car as it drove you back to the pits. You two kept your helmets on as you got to your garage. Both of you were trembling as you walked in, expecting looks of hatred for crashing. Because that’s what happened with Williams and Arrow. A DNF was a death sentence for you and him. 

However, you two were met with sympathetic looks and very comforting hugs and pats. The team medics quickly looked you and Logan over for any major injuries. You looked over at Logan, who probably wanted to cry from the kindness as much as you did. 

Getting dressed was hard as your shoulders and fronts hurt, but you got through it. Max had won in the time that it took you both to get back and change. 

Still wanting to be good friends, you watched the podium celebrations as Max, Lando, and George stood tall. You were thankful that George wasn’t right on your tail as Logan hit you, because you would have hit the Briton. 

You wanted to say something to Logan, but were instantly pissed once again. The crowd of papaya-clad fans around you were chanting Lando’s name during the Dutch national anthem. You hoped that Lando would have the decency to gesture to them to stop chanting as Charles had done in Monza last year. However, the Briton seemed to bask in the praise. Logan sneered as Lando raised his fist, almost jeering them on. 

You scoffed. 

You watched as Max and George both side-eyed him. 

After the podium celebrations, you and Logan made your way back to the Lamborghini garage. You passed by Ferrari, noticing Charles glaring at someone behind you. A quick turn to see who it was also had you glaring. 

Lando and the McLaren team were celebrating the podium. But a swatch of blue had you calming down as you noticed Max sneaking into the bright red garage. 

Logan took your hand to lead you into your own yellow and black. The two of you went to Logan’s driver room and sat down. Your head was resting on his shoulder when there was a knock on the door. 

“We’re not expecting anyone right?” you asked. 

Logan looked confused as he got up and walked to the door. When he saw a flash of papaya, he wanted to slam it closed. But the McLaren kit belonged to Oscar and not Lando. 

The three of you just looked at each other before Oscar cleared his throat. “Can I come in?” 

Logan said nothing, but turned to the side to let the Aussie in. 

You went to say something, but he held out his hand. “Can I say something first?” 

Logan huffed. “Sure. Unless you want to be like your teammate out there and be disrespectful.” 

Oscar, with wide eyes, shook his head. “I can here to apologize.” 

You and Logan were interested now. 

The Aussie took a deep breath. “I know words won’t repair the past year, but I want to slowly start fixing it.” 

He looked to Logan first. “I’m sorry Logan. I shouldn’t have let Lando be so influential on me last year. Because of that, I lost you as my best friend and I regret it every day. Your friendship meant the world to me, and I’m paying my own consequences.” 

Oscar then turned to you. “Y/n, we don’t know each other well, but I’m also sorry to you. I noticed how everyone seemed to distance you at McLaren functions and I should have been the better person instead of following the crowd.” 

He was on the verge of tears, but so were you and Logan. 

“I’m not here because anyone asked me. I’m here because I want to make things right. And I know that I probably won’t be forgiven immediately, I’m not asking you to. But I wanted to say sorry first and hope to be on the right path to be friends. And – ”  

Oscar couldn’t finish as he was brought into a big hug by Logan. His breath shuddered as he melted into the hug. He sobbed a bit more when he felt your arms wrap around him and the taller blond. He squeezed Logan a bit tighter as more tears fell. 

Logan released the hug after a few moments and wiped his own tears. You also wiped your tears as you giggled at the moment of three drivers all crying together. Your laughs made Logan start, which made Oscar join in. 

It felt ridiculous as you three really started laughing. 

When you came down from the laughing high, Logan finally looked at Oscar in full. His eyes were red, but so where his and yours. He smiled at the Aussie. 

“Oscar, how do you feel about some paddle?” 

venus2 has posted

liked by oscarpiastri, pheonix95, sargeantgirlie, and 204,295 others

venus2 padel after the storm

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loscar4ever OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH 😱

presidentlogan LOSCAR IS BACK????

phoenix95 we totally crushed them 😌

venus2 YEAH WE DID

charles_leclerc if only SOMEONE put in the same amount of effort we could have won 😡

maxverstappen1 I SAID I WAS SORRY

y/ns_world everyone is focused on the first pic but the second one is so cute 🥺

y/nxlogan I know righttttt

lambo_duo glad to see smiles in the comments, we'll bring it back in Spain!

pheonix95 has posted

liked by venus2, charles_leclerc, logang2, and 402,947 others

phoenix95 you're so gorgeous it actually hurts 🥴

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loscarlife I CAME STRAIGHT FROM LOGAN'S POST

cardar8155 carlos and oscar are still superior

lestappenlove ummmmmmm no.

venus2 you're so gorgeous 🙃

charles_leclerc someone complemented me once 😒

maxverstappen1 I'M STILL ALIVE????

charles_leclerc y'all hear that 🤨

lewishamilton just the wind

y/n.nation they're such couple goals

oscarpiastri has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, opeightyone, venus2, and 805,294 others

oscarpiastri never playing doubles with them again 🥲

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opeightyone looks like we should start a padel line

lando_no_rizz glad that it seemed to be the group plus oscar

sargeantgirlie he's on thin ice, but I guess oscar is now fine

phoenix95 admit it, you're just scared of us 😏

oscarpiastri yes. on and off track.

venus2 AS YOU SHOULD BE 😤

oscarpiastri @/maxverstappen1 come get your son pls

maxverstappen1 that's George's son

georgerussell63 oh so he's only my son when he's acting out

loscarland MY FAMILY IS BACK TOGETHER

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[edenesth]

[4:43 AM]

With a faint groan, you rubbed your eyes groggily, realising you had dozed off once more while waiting for Hongjoong to wrap up in his studio – or so he claimed hours ago.

Retrieving your phone to check the time, you sighed, "It's almost five in the morning, captain. Are you close to finishing up?"

Cursing inwardly, your boyfriend turned towards you, wearing a sheepish smile as if just realising the current time, "I'm really sorry, baby. I could have sworn it was only two o'clock just five minutes ago. Just bear with me for a moment longer; I'm saving my progress, and then we can head home."

Perched on the couch behind him, you shot a surprised glance at the generous opening of his shirt. Narrowing your eyes with a hint of suspicion, you crossed your arms over your chest, "Yah, Kim Hongjoong. Are you trying to seduce me?"

He blinked, trying to comprehend what you were referring to until he followed your gaze and looked down at his attire. Only then did he grasp the extent of the undone buttons. After a moment, a smirk played on his lips, his heart swelling with affection as he relished the adorably sleepy expression on your face while you pouted at him.

"Perhaps I am. It looks like I struggle with buttoning my shirt properly. Would you mind doing it for me?" He teased, powering off his PC and moving over to sit beside you. His hands instinctively found yours as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "Or... would you prefer to undo them all for me instead?"

His suggestive words elicited a gasp from you, and you playfully slapped his chest, "Are you serious? We're in your workplace!"

Grinning, he held your hand against his chest, "So, does that mean if we were at home right now, you would have welcomed this idea wholeheartedly, hm?"

"Y-you—"

Before you could utter anything further, he was already intoxicated by the comforting fragrance of your perfume, leaning in to capture your lips and silence you.

Your eyes widened at his sudden boldness, considering he had always been reserved about public displays of affection, especially at his workplace where colleagues could walk in at any moment. You figured that sleep deprivation must be getting to him, daring him to take such a risk. After a few unsuccessful attempts to push him away, you surrendered, closing your eyes and kissing him back, melting into his embrace.

Maybe you should have trusted your instincts and stopped things before they reached a point of no return.

The next thing you knew, the door to his studio creaked open, and the voice of his producer, Eden, sounded, "Hongjoong-ah, you're still here? Go home already. Your poor girlfriend must be exhausted waiting—"

He stood still at the entrance as both of you jumped apart, "W-well, it looks like she's not too tired, but that's all the more reason to go home, right? Please don't taint the studio."

You buried your face in your hands as your boyfriend's cheeks flushed deep red. He nodded vigorously, "Y-yes, hyung! We're leaving now!"

After Eden left, you shot him a glare, and he scoffed, pulling you onto your feet and into his waiting arms, "Don't give me that look as if you didn't kiss me back just as eagerly."

Your heart raced at his following words, "Come on, let's hurry home. We should probably finish what we started."

"You need sleep, Joong."

"Not until I have you first, baby."

ATEEZ Masterlist

I know I said I was gonna start working on my thesis but GOOD LORD, I could not get producer Joong out of my mind. Also, thank you so much for 1.2k followers, holy crap!

Hope y'all enjoyed this random timestamp lmao as always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[asumofwords]

Modern!Dark!Aemond - Divorce AU - Oneshot

Til Death Do Us Part

SUMMARY: You and Aemond had been married for years, but he was not the man you thought he was. Discovering his affair with his secretary Alys Rivers, you had decided that enough was enough. You packed up your things in secret and left, leaving divorce papers on the table, and booked a one way ticket out of the country.

What will happen when Aemond goes to the ends of the earth to find you and make you his again?

WARNINGS: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. She/her pronouns, stalking, abuse, toxic relationships, infidelity, divorce, NONCON, manipulation, gaslighting, marriage, rough sex, choking, hitting, punching, yandere, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, forced orgasm, violence, daddy kink, dacryphilia, head injury.

PAIRINGS: Modern!Dark!Aemond x reader

Word count: 10.2k

NOTES: Well, well, well.... Here we are. You have all been so feral waiting for this to drop and I am honestly so excited to see you all crawling about in my walls after. Probably shouldn't have to say this by now but will for new folks, READ THE TAGS, this is a DARK!FIC. There is no fluff or happiness lmao. This has been so fucking fun to write hehehe.... Anyway.... Without further adieu... Enjoy ;) <3

The soft hissing of the kettle took you away from the book you had been reading, nestled against one of the many windows in the small cottage you now owned.

Taking the kettle from the stove, you poured the boiled water over your tea leaves, watching the herbal mix swirl in the strainer. 

The soft aroma of chamomile and peppermint wafted from the cup and you inhaled deeply, leaning against the kitchen bench as you waited for it to steep, no use going back to your book nook until the tea was ready to take with you. 

The leaves from the pine trees in the forest outside had turned a deep green, the cold chill of winter having rolled through the valley of the quaint village you lived in early this year. Condensation rose from earth as the sun heated the mildew on the grass, the smokey illusion seeping from the forest floor.

It was different to the city. No more were the days of craning your head up to look at the crawling skyline of buildings, the sound of traffic, or yelling of people on the street. No more did you hear cars blare their horns or music, or the melodic sounds of people chattering in the late hours of the night or fights between lovers from apartments surrounding.

Now, the most noise you heard was the occasional storm that rolled through the valley, or the deer that wondered the pasture at the back of your property. 

You could remember the first night you heard them, such a different and unfamiliar screeching that had set your hair on edge, eyes darting about to each window and front door as you raced around the house to make sure they were locked. 

They always were. 

You were meticulous that way. Always vigilant, always ready. 

But in reality, you shouldn’t still be on edge.

It had been months since you left.

Almost an entire year since you packed your things and left the papers and your ring on the table for him to find. And what’s more, there would be no way for him to find you out here. 

Not that he would even try.

You hoped.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t love him, or loved him; the lines were still blurred there. But Aemond had broken you in ways you never knew he could.

The lies, the secrecy, and then, her. 

You remembered when you had first met Alys; a work event Aemond brought you along to. The pretty wife and happy family image did wonders for his company and the press, so he often brought you along on his arm, smiles and grins for the cameras, whispers of starting a family or trying for one, until you were out of view. 

But that time had been different. 

That time, something had changed. 

You had known about Alys Rivers for a while, a new hire going months back. A woman from no notable name, nor background, a start up of her own, worked hard to get where she was, or at least, that’s what you had first thought when Aemond had described her to you; his new secretary hire. 

An older woman, not one a wife would usually find as a threat.

It’s almost always the younger ones. Older men seeking out their youth between the thighs of a barely twenty-something, whilst their wives are none the wiser, or perhaps knowing and too resigned to care, birthing them children at home as their marriage dissolves into nothing but a loveless legal contract.

But this was different.

She hadn’t come to introduce herself at first, not at all, and that’s what you found the strangest.

Alys Rivers, a few inches taller than you, with pale skin and bright green eyes, had stood in the far end of the hired venue, sipping a glass of red wine, perfectly manicured maroon nails tapping on the glass, whilst she tucked an ebony strand of hair behind her ear. 

You had felt the heat of her gaze immediately, your eyes meeting hers, and yet, she didn’t look away, didn’t smile softly, walk over and introduce herself as any other woman would have. She just stared. Right into your very soul. It had sent shivers down your spine, and you knew, in that moment, that something was wrong. 

Off.

Aemond had done his rounds with his private investors, higher employees, friends, if you could call them that, and press alike, all whilst you stuck by his side, smiling pretty and responding with shallow answers that didn’t give too much or too little for them to talk about later. 

You hated those stuffy events, men and women alike always trying to get closer to you in order to get to Aemond, who was a fortress to begin with. Some people often commented or made joking remarks at how surprised they were that you had married him. That you had managed to thaw the Ice Man himself, that he was even capable of such things, and you would always laugh and make jokes back in good nature, smile never reaching your eyes. 

But really, he was amazing when you were first married. Doting, loving, loyal, and always there, though that was sometimes overbearing. There was of course the little things, the teeny red flags that you ignored more often than not, rose tinted glasses and all that, but you had been young and in love and crazy about him, and he had been the same about you.

But as the years rolled by, and the two of you grew, you also both changed. The business expanded rapidly with the death of his father Viserys, and Aemond became more preoccupied with that legacy, most of the empire being passed along to him, and not his older brother Aegon, who had no desire to work and would rather live off his inherited wealth with drugs and weekend benders surrounded by lusty women. Occasionally men too.

And then when Alys came into the picture, it was like a switch had been flicked.

As though the Aemond you had thought you knew, never existed at all.

Alys had sauntered her way over half way through the event to introduce herself, all saccharine smile with razor sharp teeth that looked ready to sink into your flesh. She was polite, pleasant, overly pleasant, too sweet, too complimentary, and it felt off. Like an overripe peach, or wine that had been left open for a week too long. 

Your husband had been stiff at your side, hand flexing around the tumbler of whiskey the entire time she stood beside him, too close to be friendly, and most certainly far too close for a boss and his secretary. And really, you should have listened to your instincts then and there, for they screamed that something was amiss. 

But Aemond had a way of getting into your head, making you believe every word he said, push away your own instincts, and question yourself over, and over.

And that’s what you had done.

Questioned yourself, over and over. 

Yet one day, something in the back of your head nagged at you too loudly. Aemond had not answering his personal number, calls you could understand, but usually he responded to his texts. But that day he hadn't. And so you called the office, where he spent most of his time these days, which had become a frustrating new normal, as was the depletion of your small weekends away, romantic dinners, spontaneous days out together.

The marriage felt stagnant, stale, and you knew in your gut the true reason for it. His desk had rang for too many rings too long. And when Alys had finally answered, she sounded rushed, caught unawares, awkward.

That was all it had took. 

You had asked if he had his lunch yet, that you were nearby in the city and wondering if you should drop by, knowing that he had been spending later evenings in the office ‘working’, or weekend trips away to Harrenhal for business there, his secretary tagging along. 

Alys informed you that he had just ate, but the way she said it was with that same overly sweetness that set your brain afire. 

It was almost smug. 

And so, without even hesitating, like you had for months on end, you picked up your keys and left, heading straight to his office.

Your heart had raced the entire time you drove there, weaving through traffic, just knowing, knowing, something, deep in your gut was not right.

And you were right. 

Because there they were, caught like two deers in the headlights as you had swung the door open, Alys, seated on his desk, skirt pushed up to her hips, one shoe lost to the floor as Aemond thrusted into her parted legs.

They hadn’t even heard you at first.

But she saw you.

And she had smiled.

You will always remember his face. 

He had turned and looked at you with shock at first, but then it turned to anger, as though you were at fault for this, as though you had ruined his fun, as though you should have known better, scar on his cheek crinkling with the sneer he threw your way.

You left in a flurry of hot tears, immediately calling your lawyer.

You drove straight to your best friend Sara’s house, and crashed at hers for the week, ignoring the constant buzz of calls and texts, and yes, even emails from your husband. Aemond in his desperation to reach out to you, even drove to Sara’s house, demanding if you were there. You had hid in the bathroom, holding your breath in the tub, shaking with anger and heartbreak and fighting the urge to go out there, to yell at him, scream at him, or more dangerous still, forgive him.

Then you were gone, speaking to your solicitor to get everything set into motion, friends loyally supporting your decision. You left the divorce papers on the dining room table, packed your bags and left whilst he was at the office, giving him no chance to manipulate you into staying, no chance for argument, and no chance for your heart to win over, taking your essentials and sentimental possessions with you.

You stood in your home, looking at everything inside, at all the memories that you shared in there. From when you had first looked at the house, to buying it, to Aemond's insistence on christening every single surface in the house to make it yours, all giggles and smiles, pleasure and joy.

But gone were those days, gone was the joy and the giggles, the pleasure and the smiles, and so with shaky fingers, you ripped off your wedding ring, finger feeling bare in its absence as you left it atop the pages. 

At first you were just hoping to get some space to clear your head and not be manipulated by your husbands lies and very convincing words again. You knew that if you gave him a chance, you would be stuck. You knew that if he pleaded, if he begged, if he smiled with his signature smirk, it would be your downfall. He knew you far too intimately now. He knew how to get you to bend to his will. So you booked the nearest ticket you could and raced to the airport, not once looking back.

You had just landed in Paris when you turned your phone back on, watching the screen as it lit up, where you were immediately bombarded with multiple missed calls from him and a barrage of texts that became more, and more aggressive as time went on. 

It was your fault really, to poke the dragon the way you had.

And yet you still did it, answering one of his frantic calls to hear the cool and icy tone of Aemond, barely keeping it together on the other end. 

“Where are you?” He had asked, voice deep and quiet, small growl on the end; a tell tale sign that he was furious. 

The airport was loud around you, people moving to their next gates, or stopping to move to the small cafes to eat, others continuing onwards towards the baggage claim to collect their luggage. 

“It's none of your business.” You had responded, tone clipped, irritation and anger surging through you at his audacity to even be mad.

“I think it’s plenty my business. You’re my wife.”

“Not anymore. Have your solicitor talk to mine. Sign the papers, Aemond.”

You heard him breathe heavily into the speaker, “If you think for one fucking second that I’m going to-“

You pressed the red button on your phone and hung up on him, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you moved lazily through the queue to get through customs. 

By the time you had gotten out the other end, you checked your phone again. 

There was only one text on the screen that had sent panic blaring through your mind. 

‘See you soon.’

You hadn’t planned to run, you hadn’t even planned to leave the country indefinitely, you just needed an out, but Aemond’s aggression had extended it, triggering your flight instincts. You didn’t believe that he would hurt you, but this new anger had frightened you. This new Aemond frightened you.

But Aemond Targaryen’s anger was not new to you either, his possessiveness was not new, and at one point you had even found it endearing. But after years of being married to what you thought was the man of your dreams, the other shoe dropped, and the true man was revealed. 

So you made quick work of it, going to an international bank, taking every single cent out of your combined account.

You knew he wouldn’t struggle financially from such a loss, having another seperate offshore account, or two, or five if you were really counting. Not to mention his inheritance which sat in a vault in Budapest.

Comes with being descended from royalty.

But in the end, you knew you needed every dollar if you were going to get away from him and make it stick.

So you got a new passport, ID, and hitchhiked your way across several countries until you finally settled, finding a cottage, nestled in the woods, a solid thirty minute drive from town, buying it from the local farmer in cash. No contract. No deed. Just cash and his silence. 

And that’s where you had been ever since.

You took your tea to the window, settling against the nook, pillows and blankets strewn all over as you curled inside. You looked out at the trees, the sun slowly setting for the day. 

It was cold in your cottage, not too cold, but cold enough. Winter had come early that year, and you had used more logs of wood for the fire than you had thought you would have needed. 

It was strange, to be so far away from the life you used to live. To be so removed from the world. But in some ways it was good. You had no social media, having deactivated every single one you had, and you also had barely any use of your phone unless you turned on the broadband, which was shaky at best and if it was windy, the reception would cut out.

The only people you really spoke to anymore was the people who lived in the town just a ways away, and Sara, who called every Sunday like clockwork, well actually like clockwork, you needed to turn the broadband on for Skype to work on the laptop you had taken with you.

In the almost year you had been gone, you had taught yourself how to make your own clothes, pickle and preserve foods, and even became quite handy at baking the odd loaf of bread here and there. The farmers whose cottage it was previously had left his belongings behind, taking only his clothes and things of memory with him.

There were books almost everywhere, the old man having been an avid reader, and amongst the books had been one on horticulture, and so slowly but surely, you had grown your own self sustaining vegetable patch. It wasn’t perfect, but it prevented you from going into town too often, and also allowed you to not seek employment just yet.

That would come later when Sara would tell you that Aemond would sign the papers. 

But every Sunday was the same.

“Any news?” You asked her that morning, Sara had frowned, pixelated to hell, but the frown still evident on your screen.

“Nope. Nothing. The asshole won’t sign them still. Solicitor can’t even find him to talk.”

You sighed, wiping hands down your face angrily. 

Why was he doing this?

Why wouldn’t he just let you go?

Something about it made your skin crawl. 

Those messages, those calls. 

The ‘See you soon’ text. 

Something had snapped in Aemond, and you didn’t like it one bit. 

Your only consolation was that you were far away with a new name, new life, hidden amongst rolling green hills and large forests.

“How’s Cregan?” You changed the subject, and Sara had given you an update on everyones lives, her brothers first, and his new girlfriend. Then to all your other friends who you longed to see again. 

But not yet, you just needed a little more time and for your husband to agree to the divorce. 

When the sun had lowered in the sky, you moved to turn the lights in the house on, throwing some logs into the fire and lighting them with a match. You made sure to thank the Gods for solar panels. 

The warmth of the fire heated up the small cottage quickly, and you made quick work of reheating a lamb soup you made a few days earlier, crisp homemade bread on the side with butter from a nearby dairy farmer.

It was hearty and warm, and filled you up, having a soporific affect on you. You had a glass of red wine as a treat afterwards, bought from the local markets and found yourself sinking deeper into fatigue. 

It was a routine of sort, wake, eat, read, work on the garden or house, eat, drink, sleep. It was comfortable, and it eased much of your worries, always keeping busy. You didn’t realise how stressed and anxious the life you used to live made you.

The week went by, much the same. 

The same routine. 

The same walls, and floors, and rooms. 

Same window nook, and cups of tea, and warming your hands by the fire.

By the time Saturday rolled by, you had been elated, excited even, to get out and look at the homemade wares and farm grown produce. To see the people you had grown to care about and make as your quiet friends. Still at arms length of course with your fake new life, but you let them in more than you had intended to. 

It was never a large market, merely the other people who lived in or around the tiny town. But it was cozy, sweet, and some faces were more familiar than others. You looked forward to seeing them all and catching up on their weeks, especially an older lady named Lucy, who crocheted and knitted some of the most wonderful things. She had kind grey eyes, and would always insist on you taking something from her for free.

Today was no different.

“You make this most difficult, hen.” The grey haired woman frowned, coming round the side of her small stall to shove a large, grey knitted jumper into your arms, the same colour as her eyes.

You shook your head, “Lucy, please, at least let me give you some money for it.” Grabbing the soft wool that was pressed against your chest.

The older lady smirked, hands up in the air in submission, “It’s too late,” Her voice was thick with a Scottish accent, “You best be taking that, girly. It’ll be a cold winter that comes round this year, I feel it in my bones already.”

You sighed, “Then let me give you some money for it, and you can buy some more wool to make yourself some warm socks.” Fishing around in your bag to find some cash to give her. 

Lucy crossed her arms across her chest, “Gonny no dae that. If you give me any money I’ll be right offended by you, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug. It’s a gift, you dafty.”

You shook your head and chuckled, there was no point in fighting.

You would never win anyway.

“Fine.” You acquiesced, “But I’m coming to drop you some muffins and scones when I make them next week.”

The older lady sat down heavily in her chair behind the stall, “I expect nothing less. Will you bring some strawberries from yer plot? Dang caterpillars got into mine and tore them to shreds.”

“I’ll bring you a mix of goodies from my wonderful garden that has no caterpillars.” You teased, rubbing the woollen jumper between your fingers, “Thanks again, Lucy, but you’re a menace.”

“Got to be when yer married to my husband.” Lucy joked, but it made your heart race instead.

You swallowed thickly and smiled shakily at the woman, nodding before bidding her a goodbye. 

You walked through the rest of the market for a while, getting some fresh honey from a local farmer, some potatoes for a stew later on, and even buying yourself a new handmade mug.

It was a bustling affair, small children giggling with their parents, and older members of town who had been born and raised there walking about and stopping to talk with their life long companions. 

Bright bunches of flowers caught your attention, and you moved over to look at them all.

Native flowers of all kinds were bunched together; roses, petunias, anything that could survive the chillier climate. And as you looked at a peculiar shaped purple flower, hooded like a bell, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and instinctually you turned, eyes darting around the rest of the market, looking at the sea of people, young and old, walking with their wares, chatting amongst each other or smiling. 

Not one had that familiar head of silver hair.

You breathed out a sigh, shaking your head.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

It’s just your anxiety. It was probably just Lucy’s comment that set you on edge.

Not even Sara truly knew where you were. 

You looked back at the flowers again, eyes on the purple ones that were nestled amongst pea flowers and other pinks and yellows.

“Devils Helmut.” The man told you, noting your interest in its peculiar shape, “Monkshood to others, or Wolfsbane to those witchy ones.” His eyes looked at you intently, “You ok? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.”

He was tall, older, but not by much, with deep brown eyes and wavy brunette hair that came to his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. His jaw was sharp, a nice shadow across the skin from his stubble, with lips that were full and pulled upwards slightly. He had broad shoulders and large hands, tiny freckles dusting the pale skin as he watched you. 

He was relatively new to town like you, but not really. Duncan, you remembered, had moved back to the little town after his father had passed away, inheriting the plot of land that was next to yours. Lucy had spilled the tea, over a cup of tea, about him with you a few months before, telling you that he was an eligible bachelor with a wink, trying to set the two of you up.

And although he was undeniably attractive, you worried for the implications of getting to know him, and eventually having to tell him about your marriage, and why you were truly where you were. You doubted the man would want anything to do with your baggage.

“I’m okay, just a bit cold. How have you been?” You asked him, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of your head.

“Fairly good.” Duncan rolled his r deeply, same low Scottish timbre as Lucy, distracting you from the rancid feeling that curled in your gut, “The winter’s come early this year.”

Duncan leant a hand against the table, and you noted that there was no ring on his finger.

Stop that.

“That’s what Lucy said too. Can definitely feel it.”

Duncan looked pointedly at the jumper still in your hands, “And what’s she given you this time?”

Unfolding the jumper in your arms you held it up, holding it against yourself to show him, “A new jumper. Will be perfect when it gets colder. Wish she’d stop throwing things at me and not letting me pay though.”

Duncan laughed, a deep chortle that rumbled his chest and warmed your cheeks, “That’s Lucy for you. She does the same to me too, the auld blether.”

You laughed heartily, “We should go in doubles to the markets when you’re not selling. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

Oh gods. Why did you say that?

A soft smile pulled on his lips, “You don’t know Lucy well enough if you think we’d stand a chance against her. She’d bowl us over without even blinking.”

Another laugh, and a shrug, "Worth the try.”

Duncan’s eyes scanned your face softly before he stepped forward, grabbing the bunch of flowers you had been looking at from their little vase, holding them out towards you, “Here.”

You looked at the flowers in his hands and frowned, “What?”

“Take them.” He insisted, “You looked right keen on the Monkshood, mean bloody flower that one. Be careful you don’t touch it too much.”

You shook your head, tucking your jumper into your bag, “I can’t possibly-“

“-Please. I insist.”

You reached forward to take the flowers from him hesitantly, feeling guilt bubble inside of you. What was with all these people and their generosity? It was going to give you an aneurism. 

Your fingers brushed against his, and the warmth carried up your arm and straight into your chest. Duncan must have felt it too, because a soft blush creeped across his freckled cheeks.

Holding the bunch of flowers to your chest you smiled.

“You don’t have any pets at home? Any cats that might try and make a snack of the flowers?” Duncan pointed to the Monkshood.

You shook your head, “No it’s just me.”

His eyes danced as he nodded, and you felt as if you had answered his second question without him even having to ask.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

A large hand waved the thanks away, “Dinnae worry about it. Though, I have heard good things about yer baking.”

“Have you now? Has Lucy spilt all my secrets?”

A smirk, “Not yer secrets no. But yer baking, yes.”

Feeling bold, you smirked back, “I could make you something, if you’d like." You held up the flowers in show, "As a thanks, of course.” 

“What can you make?”

“Anything you want.” You said quieter, swallowing the anticipation that rose in your throat.

“Can you make a good scone?”

You scoffed, “Easiest of things to bake.”

Duncan mirrored your stance, pursing his lips, “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that then. Do you have enough wood for yer fire? Snow will be falling soon, and we dinnae want you chittering in the cold.”

“I’ve got some left, but I know I’ll probably have to go over to Douglas and Lucy’s to get some more.”

The brown haired man paused in thought, tongue in cheek before he spun around, crouching down to rifle through a bag beneath his table, pulling out a pen and paper. 

Duncan placed the small notebook in front of you.

“How about this, you give me yer number, and I’ll come round and bring you some more wood, maybe chop some for the fire as well, and you can thank me by making some scones. I can bring some of Elsie’s jam with me.” Duncan looked up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. 

And although he had spoken with confidence, it was clear that he was just as nervous as you. 

It was hard to fight the heat that creeped up your neck. Excitement and anticipation coursing through you, the feeling of being desired making you giddy. 

It had been so long.

You bit your bottom lip softly nodding, leaning down to write your home phone number, making a note to plug the old thing in, praying that it still works, as well as your address into the notebook.

Duncan smiled softly, taking it back and looked at the note, “You didn’t have to write down yer address, I know you bought Macnair’s property a while back, we're practically neighbours. Not accounting for the acres between us.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly, “Sorry, I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Hard to not know everyone here, especially when you grew up around them all. Plus, hard to not notice the bonnie lass who moved here. Quite the stir you created.”

You shook your head and blushed again, Gods damn him, “Not my intention.”

You both stood shyly for a moment, staring at each other, a warm pleasant tension building around the two of you. 

Duncan cleared his throat, and clapped his hands together softly, “Right. Well, It’s a dreich day, so you best be off before the rain comes again.” He held the notebook up in his hand and shook it lightly, “You’ll be seeing me soon then. I’ll be coming to collect some of those scones.”

You grinned, and held the flowers gently in show again, “I hope they’re up to your standards. Thanks again for the flowers. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

-

The blaring ring of the Skype call filled your cottage. You raced from the kitchen to the desk, answering Sara’s call with a bright smile.

“Sar!” You smiled, pulling out your chair to sit in it, looking at your best friends face. But her excitement did not match yours, and instead, her face filled you with dread.

“Sar, what’s wrong?” 

You watched as Sara visibly swallowed, leaning towards her computer, “Aemond’s left the country.”

Chills ran over your body.

“Oh, he must have a conference in Rome or Budapest. He always used to-“

“-No.” Sara interrupted you, and her voice instilled a rising sense of fear that you had been battling with for months, “Y/n, I don’t think that’s it. He’s already been gone over a week. That’s why the solicitor couldn’t talk to him him.”

Your heart raced in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Sara continued as you felt the walls around you move closer, “That’s why the solicitor couldn’t get in contact with him. They went to his office. Apparently he’s on leave, not even Alys was there.”

You licked your lips, swallowing dryly, “What do I do? Fuck, Sara, what do I do?”

“Don’t panic. He doesn’t know where you are! Hell, I don’t even know where you are.”

“I know, I know. But still…” You paused, breathing shallowly, “Sara, I went to the markets yesterday, and it was… Off. Something was off… And I just couldn’t shake this feeling that I was being watched.” You felt like you were going to be sick.

Sara’s face fell, head turning to talk to someone else quietly in the room.

“Who’s that?”

“Just Cregan. He’s talking to Helaena.”

You scoffed sadly, “Helaena won’t know anything. She didn’t even know about Alys.”

Sara shrugged, image becoming pixelated, “I-…-ow…-bu-….-o….-harm…-“

“Sar, you’re cutting up.” 

You swore, swatting the computer lightly as her image froze.

Fucking broadband. Gods, maybe you should invest in getting a satellite dish here. At least you could get some cable tv if you did.

“-come to you.” Sara unfroze, the pixels evening out to an almost smooth image.

You groaned, “I didn’t catch any of that. Fucking internet cut out.”

“Can you get a satellite or something like a normal person and not be such a hermit? I said, why don’t I come to you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you, Sar. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt me, not that he’d ever find me. He’s just an asshole. Probably curse me out and tell me I’m making it all up.”

Sara’s face dropped again, and you wished she was pixelated so you couldn’t see it, the image making your skin crawl, “Y/n. Theres something you don’t know.”

You straightened in your chair, “Is Alys pregnant?”

“No. She’s too old for that. Something else. Something Jacaerys told Cregan one night years ago. I didn’t want to tell you then, you guys were so in love, and I had never seen you so happy. I just,” She sighed, “I didn’t even really believe it until recently.”

“Sar, you’re scaring me.”

She shook her head, “I know, I know. But as you said, he doesn’t know where you are, and he won’t find you. But Y/n, Aemond isn’t who we think he is.”

“Are you about to tell me he’s some sort of international spy, or politician in hiding?” You tried to joke, but the joke fell flat.

Sara’s head looked to the side before back at the screen, “When Aemond was young, he had a temper. A real bad one. Never got along with his nephews.” She took a steadying breath, “When Lucerys was thirteen and Aemond was nineteen, he attacked him. It was probably years of pent up anger after the accident, a fight had been brewing, but he didn’t stop. No-one could stop him, Y/n. It was bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach roiled.

“Y/n, Lucerys nearly died.”

Your mouth gaped open as you could scarcely get air into your lungs. 

Oh gods.

Oh gods.

“Breathe.” Sara cooed through the computer, “Girl, you need to breathe.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hand rubbing your chest, “What the fuck?”

“I know. I know. But they were young, I mean, Aemond was a lot older, but still. They were boys. And Aemond would never do anything like that to you. Not that he will ever find you.”

You counted your breaths as Sara spoke to you, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Y/n, y-….I-…t wi-…ll be fine-…. I-… ca-…n…-“

You growled at your screen, standing up in anger and frustration, anxiety pulling cruelly at your gut. You paced in front of the desk as you waited for your friend to come back into view. 

When she de-pixelated and came back, you leant heavily against the table.

“You got your phone with you?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Yea.” Sara lifted her phone to the screen.

“Okay, I’m going to give you my address. When do you think you can come?”

A cry flew from your lips. 

The cottage was bathed in complete darkness, generator slowing to halt outside, the soft hum of electricity disappearing. Your heart lurched into your throat as you stood in the darkness. Skype screen blaring a ‘Lost Connection’ notification at you.

You took shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself. 

This wasn’t unusual. 

Just last month a squirrel had been trying to burrow into the electrical box for warmth and chewed through a cable. Luckily for you, Douglas had come over to fix up the wiring and helped you on your way. But with all that had been happening, it gave you a right scare. 

Your heart did not slow in your chest, nor did you calm with the way your ears pricked at any noise inside or out. You stumbled through the darkness of the cottage to the kitchen, searching beneath the sink for your emergency torch. 

Grasping it in your hand, you clicked it on, lone beam of light shining a path for you through the house to the front door. You crept slowly forward, the sound of your loud breathing in your ear as you got to the door.

You would have to go out and flip the switches manually, and make sure the damned squirrel wasn’t back. 

Throwing on your wellies, you unlocked the four deadlocks you had installed on your door one by one until you opened it wide, the valley blanketed in the darkness of the night, clouds shrouding the moon and stars. The shadows of the forest around your house made you more on edge, every trunk or branch causing your eyes to linger that moment longer to decipher what it was.

But they were just that.

Trees. 

You trudged around the side of the cottage, shoes crunching on the ground below as you made your way to the back. The icy air nipped at your skin, and you tugged the jumper that Lucy had knitted tightly around you. 

They were right, winter had come early this year. 

You would have to thank her later.

When you reached the electrical box, you tugged it open, shining the torch on all the different switches inside. 

The main switch was flicked off.

For fucks sake. 

The broadband must have blown it out. 

The cottage was old, and the electricals likely older. But the solar panel were new, and you had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps the different generations of technology were clashing. You briefly wondered how costly it would be to have someone come to rewire the house for you.

As you looked at all the other switches, making sure they all looked in order, and the wires coming from out the back were all in tact, you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

You never liked coming out here in the dark. 

It was scary, and although there was nothing out here to hurt you, unless there was a miracle lone pack of wolves that came strolling by, which you knew could never happen, since Lucy had told you wolves were hunted to extinction there. So it was just you, the trees and the moon. 

The sound of a twig snapping in the woods made you spin on your heel, shining the torch out at the trees in vain. The light didn’t reach very far, illuminating just the front row of trunks, leaving the rest to be bathed in its dense darkness. Your heart thumped in your chest as your eyes scanned the woods. 

It’s fine. 

It’s nothing. 

I’ve just worked myself up. 

Gods.

It was probably just a deer or something.

You remembered the day you woke up to a whole herd of deer outside your cottage one morning, quietly munching on the grass outside. You had nearly screamed with joy, but kept the excitement inside, tiptoeing to sit in your window nook and watch them graze. 

Holding the box open with one hand, you popped the small torch in your mouth with the other, holding it in your teeth as you flicked all the switches off, and then back on again.

You looked to the house. 

Still dark. 

You groaned, and did it again. 

Again, nothing. 

No hum of the motor kicking back on. 

“Third times a charm.” You mumbled with the torch in your teeth, flicking the power back on.

The steady buzz of electricity came back, and the lights from the house illuminated a path for you back inside. You all but slammed the box shut and sped back inside to the safety of your cottage, spinning quickly to shut the door behind you, rapidly locking it tight with the deadlocks. 

One, two, three, four.

You sighed a breath of relief.

See? Nothing. Just country electricals and wild deer.

You toed off your gumboots, hanging your keys on the hook beside the door. 

You needed a glass of wine. 

That would do it, a glass of wine and maybe some baking.

“Took me a while to find you.”

Ice ran down your back. Your heart leapt out of your throat as you spun on your feet, fear crashing over you. 

You blinked.

And there he was.

Standing in your lounge room. 

He had found you.

Aemond’s jaw ticked.

You were so in shock, so terrified that you couldn’t move, entirely rooted to the floor in place as your breath was caught in your throat. Your mouth opened as you tried to suck in air, head feeling light, but you couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t even let the scream out that clawed at the back of your throat. 

He had found you.

Aemond took a step towards you, dressed in all black, his long silver hair pulled away from his face in a braid, “I told you, I would see you soon.”

Instincts kicked in, and like a startled deer, you ran. Tearing down the short hallway to get to your room, where you knew the old shot gun Macnair had left behind was hiding beneath the bed. But Aemond was quicker, and you heard his loud steps before you felt him, grabbing you from behind as you kicked your legs back and screamed, trying to get out of his grip.

“Did you really fucking think you could get away from me?” He grunted, holding you impossibly tight, “That I’d ever let you go? It was just by chance that I saw you today, I didn’t even think to go to the markets.” He explained, and tears prickled in your eyes. 

You were right, you were being watched.

“But there you were. The Gods brought us back together again, Y/n. I was about to give up. But it was fate that our paths crossed again. It was meant to be.”

You thrashed against him, his arm locking around your chest and neck tightly. You turned your head and bit down on his arm, hard, tasting blood fill your mouth. Aemond hissed, tearing himself from your teeth as he dropped you to the ground, knees collapsing beneath you as you scrambled along the floor to get away.

“Fucking bitch.”

Pain rippled up your scalp as Aemond gripped you by your hair, throwing you back against the floor. Your head hit the wooden boards, eyes sluggishly blinking as the room spun and nausea curled in your stomach.

Your husband stood over you, sneering.

“You’ve been hiding out here for months whilst I’ve been looking for you. Having an affair with that other man who gave you the flowers.” Duncan, “Almost paid him a visit, but that can be done later. Spent all this time searching for my ungrateful cunt of a wife, but you didn’t hide well enough.”

His lone eye narrowed as he looked down at you, lips pulled back in a sneer. Strands of his silver hair had fallen from his braid and puffed with each breath as he stared down at you, chest rising and falling roughly.

You scrambled backwards, nails digging into the wood as he stalked forward, hunting you like prey.

“Money talks. And I have a lot of money. Which you would know, since you cleared out our joined account. Very naughty, Y/n.”

“Fuck you. Get out!” You screamed, kicking a leg at him.

Aemond laughed, dodging your kick, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my wife.”

“I’m not your fucking wife, you psycho.”

“No?” Aemond paused, cocking his head, “Then why are we still on the marriage register? Hm?” 

Your back hit the side of the bed, hands swiping underneath desperately in search as you kicked at him again. Aemond swatted your legs away with ease, smirking down at you meanly. But he couldn’t block your kicks forever, and your foot hit him squarely in his groin.

Aemond grunted, doubling over in pain.

You took your chance, desperate to escape as you crawled forward, away from the bed, dizzy and horrified, all instincts telling you to run, not fight.

Besides, you didn’t even know how to use the gun, let alone if it was even loaded.

You stood, side stepping him as you moved to run out the bedroom door.

Your head hit the wooden frame with a crack, smashed into it by Aemond’s large hand. Stars bloomed behind your eyes, pain shooting through your skull. You tried to catch yourself on the door, your nails digging painfully into the wood as you cried, the hand gripping your hair, pulling you back into the room. 

Aemond threw you onto the bed, looming over you, “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? To see you again? How hard it was to find you? And you’re acting like such an ungrateful little bitch.”

You grunted and cried, trying to get away, desperate to get yourself off the bed as he pushed you back on it. 

“Get off me!”

“But a husband needs his wife,” He leered down at you, pupil wide, “I’ve been dying without you, Y/n. I’ve been bereft ever since you left me. Abandoning me like a coward.” Aemond shook his head, “You could never really leave me. You’re mine.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at him.

Aemond smiled down at you softly, stilling for a moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at him, “No you don’t.”

His smile dropped from his face in an instant, shadow cast over his scarred cheek as he looked at you blankly, “And if you do, I’ll make you love me again.”

His hands slid down your body, and began to tear at your pants, busting the button from your jeans, sending it flying across the room, then ripping the zipper apart. 

Sobs flew from your lips as you pushed up at him, desperate to make him stop, fear escalating within you, “Stop! Aemond. Stop!” 

Your fingers tangled in the bed sheets as you kicked at him, knuckles going white as you tried to drag yourself up and away from him on the bed, nails pulling sharply as you used every ounce of strength you had left. The room still spun as your head throbbed with every movement or jolt of your body.

Long fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your jeans and tugged them and your underwear down your legs as you struggled and cried and clawed at him.

“Been a while since you played this game with me.” Aemond chuckled darkly, “Do you remember when you used to pretend you didn’t want it? When you’d say ‘Stop! Please, no!’ and cum around my cock all coy?”

You blinked, memories erupting inside your brain. But those days were consensual, that was fun, something he had even introduced you to. But now? This? This was different. This was not a game. This was not play.

You kicked at his chest, heel clipping his shoulder sharply, a grunt falling from his lips. Aemond slapped a leg away, other hand gripping your thigh tightly. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin meanly, pain rippling up it.

Your hands tried to pry his fingers away, but the glinting of his wedding ring caught your attention.

He was still wearing it.

He ripped open his belt, and terror struck inside of you.

“Aemond, no. Please. Stop! Aemond stop, please!”

But all the man did was smile down at you crudely, “Gods, I’ve missed your begging. So sweet and small when you’d get on your knees and beg for my cock.” He pulled his length from his slacks, hard and angry, a drop of arousal smeared across his tip, “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re mine. My wife.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, thrashing beneath him as he crawled atop of you.

You dug your nails into his arms, trying to swipe at his face and neck, your teeth bared, ready to bite down onto whatever limb came into their collision course.

“Stop.” He growled, slotting himself between your thighs, overpowering you completely.

You sobbed beneath him, begging him to stop, screaming at him to get off, grunting as you twisted beneath the sheets, your head still spinning with small stars that continued to multiply in front of your eyes, the corners of your vision shrouded in black. 

In one final attempt, you went for what you knew would hurt him, what you knew would stop him, slow him down.

Give you time.

And so with the heel of your hand, you thrust it upwards into his face, connecting with his prosthetic eye, clipping the painful scar tissue that would sometimes wake him in the middle of the night in tears.

Aemond’s head withdrew with a sharp and pained cry, one palm pushing into his eye socket as he tried to calm the agony. You pushed against his shoulders, trying to move out from underneath, but Aemond was quicker, and his enraged gaze landed on you. The hand that had been pushing into his face, curled into a tight fist.

Your head whipped to the side, and a cool blanket of darkness washed over you. 

You laid in it for a while, with no thoughts, no terror, no fear, just that darkness that curled around you quietly.

It was nice for a moment, almost comforting.

Just the feeling of not being there.

But then the blanket faded away, and pain bloomed in your face, iron on your tongue as you blinked in confusion. 

There was movement and a weight atop you. Something sliding against your core. 

And then, pain.

You whined, hands shoving against the chest above you as Aemond speared you on his length, thrusting sharply and dryly into you as he reached his hilt, the tip of his cock pushing painfully against your cervix. 

You gagged quietly, head throbbing as the room spun, your arms weakly pushing at him, feeling as though they were made out of lead. Each movement of your body sent pain rippling through your skull, and bile into your mouth.

“Take it like a good wife.” Aemond growled, pulling his length out of you before thrusting it back in sharply.

You cried loudly, pain spreading through your core as you felt him tear at your walls.

He was always larger, much larger than anyone you had had before, and when you were together, he would have to spend ample time to prepare you, but you would always be wet to help. 

The only wetness you felt now, was from your own blood.

Aemond began a harsh and rough pace, with long sharp thrusts that jolted you up the bed on his length, cries of pain bleeding from your lips as you cried, turning your head away from him.

You still tried to push at his chest weakly, nails scratching at him through the dark shirt he wore, but it was no use. 

He grunted above you, picking up his pace, wrapping his hands around your neck for leverage. He squeezed, not tightly, but as a warning, and your eyes shot open to look up at him, hands clawing at his to try and get him to release you. The more you dug your nails into his skin, the more he tightened his hands until you were wheezing beneath him. 

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, you just need to give in, baby. Come on. Be a good girl for me. Be a good girl for daddy.” He groaned, one hand leaving your neck to pull up the soft woollen jumper to reveal your breasts to the room. 

Your nipples stiffened in the chill of the air, fireplace not having been lit yet and the cool of the early winter air seeping into the cabin.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hand coming to squeeze your breast roughly, pinching a stiffened peak between his fingers, rolling it through forefinger and thumb.

You whined in protest, hand trying to move his away.

Aemond lightly slapped your face, “Behave.” He accentuated with a hard thrust, another warning, sending pain shooting through your gut, “I’ll even let you cum. Be a good girl for me and I’ll let you cum, hm? Is that what my pretty wife wants?”

You shook your head weakly, tears overspilling from your eyes and down your cheeks, a sob working its way through your lips. 

Aemond bent down and licked the trail of tears from your cheek, “Fuck.” He moaned, thrusting into you faster, “Forgot how fucking tight you were. Gods. Gonna have to make up for time lost aren’t we? You’ve been such” Thrust, “A naughty” Thrust “Girl.” Thrust.

Your core clenched around him instinctually, Aemond adjusting his hips upwards so that his length would brush against the soft spongey spot within. His pace faltered, and a smirk pulled at his lips. Warmth spread through your gut.

“There she is.”

“No. Please, stop. Aemond, please. I’m begging you.” You wailed, hands gripping his arms as your nails clawed into him.

Your husband smirked down at you, “Not so cocky now that you’re mine again, huh? Where’s that bratty attitude from on the phone?”

Aemond continued to fuck at you from the new angle, one hand on your neck in a promise, the other pulling a limp leg up his hip, revulsion barreling through you as you found yourself growing wet from the angle, your body betraying you. 

The sound of your slick was loud in the room, adding to your shame. 

Aemond only tutted at you, “See? Only I can make you feel like this. Duncan would never be able to make you cum the way I do. No-one can. You’re mine. This pussy, is mine. And what I do with it is for me alone.”

The light in the room was too bright above you, making your head spin even more, the clapping of his hips against yours loud in your ears as his thrusts rocked your head and body backwards, a familiar coil beginning to wind in your stomach.

It was all too much. 

Even the smell of him overwhelmed you.

“Can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna cum for me, baby?” He cooed, mocking you.

“P-Please st-op, Aemond. It h-hurts.” You sobbed.

“Oh it hurts does it?” The sneer was back, Aemond’s head leant down beside your ear as he pushed to his limit, your walls gripping him tightly, and whispered, “Now you know how it felt when you left me.”

You weeped.

“I hope it fucking hurts.” Aemond leant back, fucking into you with new found vigour, sitting back on his haunches as he pulled your hips onto him, the coil getting tighter and tighter. 

It was horrifying, to find your body finding pleasure from his assault, but you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. He knew you too well. Knew your body too intimately. Knew everything that made you tick, twitch, or moan. He had spent hours, years, learning how to expertly map out your body, and he knew your body better than you did.

A slick thumb pressed down on your bud. 

“Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on me. If you cum for me, I’ll forgive you, okay? You cum for me and I’ll know you love me back. Come on, be a good girl, cum for me.”

His thumb swirled roughly against your bud, your hands tightening around him, unsure if you were pulling him toward you or pushing him away. Your mind hazy and confused, the world having been turned upside down. 

You came with a cry, back arching off the bed as Aemond praised you through it, fucking into you harder and faster. Warmth spread through your limbs, your eyes scrunched tightly shut, bright lights behind them as your skull throbbed.

Aemond fucked your limp body, thumb leaving your clit as he held your hips with both hands, drilling into your wetness with a painful force, pulling agonising pleasure from you. 

You weeped below him, keeping your eyes shut as you just wished for it to be over. For him to just finish. 

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my pretty wife up so we can have a baby. Hm, doesn’t that sound nice? Start a family.”

You sobbed loudly, hiding your face in your hands as you turned your head away from him, the taste of blood still thick on your tongue from where he had struck you.

His pace became sloppy, thrusts uneven as he began to lose himself to pleasure. 

“Fuck!” He hissed, thrusting into you sharply as he came, hot ropes of cum coating your walls as he thrusted weakly through his climax.

You chest stuttered with sobs, head spinning, but exhaustion taking over. 

You were so tired. 

So tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

Wanted to fade away back to that darkness again. Back to nothing.

“Shh,” Aemond hushed you from above, dipping his head to press a gentle kiss against your wet cheek and forehead, “It’s okay now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You sobbed even harder.

Aemond pulled out of you with a hiss, a small whimper falling from your own lips as you felt pain strum through your brutalised walls. He flopped back onto the bed, dragging your body up beside him as though you weighed nothing, black blooming before your eyes as you knocked your head against the pillow, a wave of sickness rising inside.

But you didn't fight it. 

There was no point. 

No escape. 

Nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide. 

You couldn’t run, even if you wanted to.

And so you laid in his arms as he held you whilst you cried, curling into him as the tears kept coming. He cooed at you softly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down your arm in a way he always used to. 

It was so stomach turning, the different sides of Aemond, and if it wasn’t for the concussion that you certainly had, his actions alone would send your head spinning. 

Because this Aemond, the soft Aemond, was the one you had known. The one who used to hold you to him, and whisper words of praise. But that was a long time ago, and the Aemond who held you now was a different man. 

Someone you didn’t even know. 

This Aemond was not the man you married.

Aemond pressed another kiss to the top of your head again, “It’s okay, cry it out. I know you’re sorry. And it’s okay. I'll forgive you. Alys was a mistake, but she’s gone now. She won’t be a problem anymore, okay? It’s just you and me.”

You sobbed louder, and he pulled you closer to him, tangling his legs with yours.

“I know, baby." He cooed sweetly, but it was insincere, hollow, cold, "I’ve missed you too. I love you so much, Y/n." Aemond exhaled hotly at the top. ofyour head before his voice fell to barely a whisper, "So much, you don’t know what I’m willing to do to keep you with me.”

A chill rolled down your spine. 

You knew now what he was willing to do. 

And with the added news of what he did to Lucerys, you wouldn’t put it past him to harm anyone that came between you again. 

A wave of mourning crashed over you. 

Mourning your past. 

Mourning your future. 

And mourning the person that you would become with him. There was no escaping this.

Him.

You inhaled his scent deeply.

He still smelt as he always did, but there was a lingering smell of pine in his clothes. The pines from the woods surrounding your home. 

How long had he been out there?

How long had he been waiting?

“You’ll love me again, I know it. I’ll never leave you again. We will be happy together. Here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide against his chest.

“You’ve chosen the best spot, baby. You always were clever, we can start our family here. Somewhere quiet, no-one around. Just you and me, and eventually the children. Like it was meant to be.”

A shiver rolled through you.

“Marrying you was the best decision I made in my life.” He kissed the top of your head again, smoothing your hair down with his hand lovingly, “I’ll make you see.”

You laid there as you cried, unsure of what to do, unsure of what to say. Having no real power over the situation, having no real way to escape or get out. If not for Aemond's sheer will, the four dead locks on the door assured it as well. He hummed softly as he let you cry, pain crashing through you in waves.

Aemond paused in thought, his thumb coming beneath your chin as he tilted your head to look up at him.

Your vision was fuzzy from the tears, and the edges were seeped in black, but you could see it. The crazed look in his eye as he gazed down at you with a hungry possessiveness. 

“Do you remember our vows?” He asked, watching as you blinked at him, your lip wobbling as you tried to stop the endless stream of sobs that worked their way up your throat.

His thumb brushed gently over your bottom lip, a sharp sting sparking in it as his finger brushed over the split.

And then he smiled at you, in the same way that he had the day of your wedding, lips pulled wide, teeth revealed.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him.

The man you had loved, the man you had married and planned a future with. 

The man you had been on the run from.

His mouth parted again, smile becoming softer.

“Til death do us part.”

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[quin-ns]

Assigned Seat (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: JJ won’t sit in the correct seat because it’s not next to you

Tags: fluff, mutual crushes, lots of flirting, JJ being cute, slightly oblivious reader, getting together, everyone ships, just cute fun fr

A/N: binged obx and this is my first fic for it and of course I had to write for JJ- he’s my fave. also, it’s s2 when school starts but let’s say they know that john b is alive before the first day of class bc I don’t want this to be angsty lol

cross-posted to ao3 • obx masterlist • writing masterlist

First day back in your first class of the day—Mr. Sunn’s history class—and you were greeted with a seating chart. Usually, you would just sit with your friends, but now you saw that Pope and Kiara weren’t in the same row like they usually would’ve been when you all shared a class. You didn’t even see JJ at all yet. You wondered if he’d show up. It was the one class that you actually had with him, so you hoped he would. Otherwise you wouldn’t see him until lunch break.

You found your seat with ease, but gave Kie a light frown when she turned around and saw you weren’t anywhere close to her or Pope.

About a minute before class was about to start, JJ walked through the door. He spotted you and grinned. He headed for the empty seat beside you and dropped down in it.

“Hey,” JJ greeted. “I was almost late but here I am.”

You laughed a little (mostly because of how proud he sounded). “Yeah, I see that.”

“So, what’s up?” he asked, side eyeing Kie and Pope. “Are we avoiding them for some reason or…?”

“What? No,” you replied quickly. “Appreciate that you were instantly on my side, though,” you said with an amused tone. 

JJ smiled at the comment. “I appreciate the appreciation.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled back nonetheless.

“If you two are done flirting, perhaps Mr. Maybank could move to his correct seat and we can get class started,” Mr. Sunn called out suddenly. You and JJ both were startled, realizing he was talking to you

JJ furrowed his brows. “Correct seat?” he whispered. “What is he talking about?”

“There’s a seating chart,” you muttered back, finally remembering.

“What?” JJ asked a little louder. “That’s lame,” he grumbled. 

“Well, tough,” Mr. Sunn replied, clearly having heard. “And according to my lame seating chart, you’re on the other side of the room.”

“It’s an empty seat,” JJ pointed out. 

“Actually, it’s Mr. Kane’s seat,” Mr. Sunn gestured towards a boy standing near you guys that you embarrassingly enough just now noticed. 

“Well, great, he can have my seat,” JJ suggested with that cheeky smile of his. 

Mr. Sunn looked from JJ to you. “You must be something special, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ve never had someone fight so hard to keep a seat.”

All you could do was laugh awkwardly, very aware of all the eyes on you. You gave JJ a look, asking for him to save you from being the center of attention on the first day. The only way he could was by relenting. 

With a sigh that you would deem dramatic, JJ stood and grabbed his backpack. Mr. Sunn held up the seating chart paper. Everyone watched as he went to the front of the class and glanced at the paper, and then found his actual seat on the opposite side of the room. 

“You can see your girlfriend after class,” Mr. Sunn commented in response to your friend losing the argument.

You weren’t his girlfriend, but neither you or JJ corrected him. You didn’t because frankly, you’d gotten your fill of attention. You weren’t sure why JJ didn’t, though. 

Besides, you weren’t totally against people thinking that. It was still weird having a teacher call you out like that, though.

The kid who had been waiting for JJ to vacate his seat gave you an apologetic look before turning his attention to pulling out a notebook.

You made eye contact with JJ across the classroom and he winked.

“Now that everyone is in their correct seat,” Mr. Sunn announced. “We can get started with class.”

Everyone turned to focus on Mr. Sunn going over the first day syllabus, except for Kie. You caught her looking at you and you met her eyes. She raised her brows as if to ask, “what was that?”

You shrugged, telling her that you didn’t know. It was true, you didn’t. 

After class, no one brought it up so you didn’t say anything about it either. You all went about your day and soon, the whole seat incident left your mind.

The next day you were reminded of it.

You arrived to history with Pope, chatting about the syllabus and what supplies you still needed to get. Kie was already in class. You said hi and then bye and headed to your seat. JJ was the last to show up, cutting it close again. You gave him a small wave, assuming you weren’t going to get to talk to him until after class.

Except, he walked right up to you and sat down next to you. 

You raised your brows at him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, hello to you too,” JJ acknowledged with a light chuckle. 

“He’s gonna tell you to move again,” you predicted. 

JJ shrugged it off. “Like some seating chart is gonna keep me away from my favorite girl,” he retorted in a playful tone. 

You smiled, ready to go along with his flirting. “Favorite, huh?”

He put his elbow on his desk and leaned on his hand. “What, you didn’t know that? I coulda swore I made it obvious.”

You hummed, ready to hit back with a sly comment. Until you were interrupted.

“Is this going to become a daily occurrence?” Mr. Sunn’s voice tore you and JJ away from the gaze you held. You both looked to the front of the class, where he stood watching you two. “I believe you know your correct seat, Mr. Maybank.”

“I forgot, actually,” JJ lied easily. “I’m pretty comfortable here, though.”

Mr. Sunn rolled his eyes and held back any indication that he found the situation as funny as you did. “I can’t have my students revolting,” he decided. He pointed to JJ’s assigned seat, waiting for him to move.

“It’s only 45 minutes, JJ,” you told him. “I think you can survive.”

“Fine, fine,” he told you and Mr. Sunn. He got up and moved to his seat. The boy that sat next to you came out of nowhere and took the seat. 

After class, you met up with your friends. You were about to walk with JJ to the hall where both your next classes were, but Kie decided something different.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” she announced. “Y/N- come with me?”

Except you didn’t really feel like she was asking. 

“Um, sure,” you agreed and headed off with her in the other direction of the boys.

“Why do girls always do that?” JJ wondered, watching as the two of you turned a corner.

“Girls just do that,” Pope explained. “This time they’re going to talk about you, dude. For sure.”

“About me?” JJ furrowed his brows. “What about me?”

“About how you like Y/N and that it’s totally obvious now. To everyone.” 

JJ just shrugged. He thought everyone already knew. The only person he really wanted to know was you, but you never seemed to think he was serious. You always flirted back and that was fun, but maybe he had to up his game.

Oddly, no one brought up the seat incident yet again as a group. Kiara and Pope did observe you and JJ closer, but even if the flirting was a little more obvious, it didn’t go beyond that.

Next day in history, it was a repeat of the previous days.

“I’m starting to think you like me,” you joked to JJ when he sat down beside you.

“It took you this long?” he responded teasingly. You tried to not read into it, not wanting to get your hopes up. Not realizing that he was hoping you would read into it.

Mr. Sunn looked up from his desk when the bell for class to start rang. Immediately, as if in a force of habit, his eyes landed on you and JJ. Once again he would have to start the class period by telling JJ to move.

“You must have amnesia,” Mr. Sunn directed towards JJ. Everyone knew that, he didn’t have to say his name.

You and JJ exchanged a look and a small laugh. You’d gotten over any level of embarrassment that came from people chuckling and eyeing you and JJ. 

“Can’t you just make an exception?” JJ asked. He was bargaining but didn’t have anything to offer.

Kie threw a smirk over her shoulder at you, but you avoided eye contact. 

Yesterday she had spent the “bathroom” trip convincing you that JJ really did like you—as more than just a friend. She knew you liked him, but also knew you were avoiding telling JJ. You didn’t want to mess with your friendship by making what you had always assumed was just friendly banter into something awkward and feeling like an idiot for thinking it was some kind of signal if it wasn’t. 

If she hadn’t sworn to JJ that she wouldn’t tell you how he felt, she would have cleared it up yesterday. But of course you didn’t know that.

Mr. Sunn’s lips pulled into a tight line. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely annoyed or amused. “If you’re next to her, how can I expect you to pay attention in class?” 

At that, the whole class chuckled. Even you. At least Mr. Sunn had a good sense of humor.

JJ blushed a little at that. You hadn’t seen him flustered like this in… well, it had been a long time. He couldn’t think of a comeback as quickly as he usually did. Too many seconds passed for him to recover, so he had no choice. 

JJ grabbed his backpack. “I’ll see you after class,” he promised. 

“You always do,” you replied just loud enough for him to hear as he stood. He shot you a smile before walking over to his assigned seat.

Class moved slowly, although at least the subject was mildly interesting compared to your other ones this semester.

When the bell rang, you waited for your friends and you all walked out of class together. 

“JJ, are you trying to get in trouble?” Pope asked, almost accusingly.

JJ scoffed out a laugh. “Don’t be dramatic, I’m not gonna get in trouble over a seat.”

“Interesting that you keep going for a seat that’s right next to Y/N,” Kiara mused in a knowing tone.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” you told her, but not in a serious way. You and JJ flirted but you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by her comments, implying that there was more.

Turns out it was the opposite. You didn’t see the way JJ looked at you. You were focused on the eye roll Kie gave before saying bye and heading to her next class. Pope followed suit, leaving you and JJ to walk to your next classes together.

“Y’know, if Kie wants to think… that,” JJ started, referencing her very obvious implication. “Or if anyone else does… I wouldn’t mind.”

You stared up at him, a bit taken aback. You and JJ had always been close and flirted, and even though you had a crush on him and all your friends were convinced he had a crush on you, neither of you brought it up or confronted it. JJ was taking the first step.

“I wouldn’t mind either,” you admitted, smiling lightly. 

JJ looked surprised, then relieved. “Really?”

You only let out a small laugh, “I’ll see you later,” you told him. You were about to walk to your class further down the hall, but stuck around for a moment longer. “Tomorrow, just sit in your seat,” you suggested. “Mr. Sunn is a chill guy but it’s gonna be a long year if we start off annoying him.”

“We’re not annoying,” JJ faked offense. “But yeah, alright,” he relented. “I guess I’ll just have to stare longing across the class,” he teased.

Your smile grew. “Yeah, I guess so,” you replied smoothly. Then, you walked away towards your class.

“We’re still meeting up with Pope and Kie later, right?” JJ called after you.

“Yeah,” you called back, not looking over your shoulder.

You hung out with your friends later and gone about your day. You and JJ of course flirted, but nothing more than usual. Pope didn’t bring it up again and Kiara just shot you knowing smirks. 

Next day in Mr. Sunn’s class, much to your surprise, when JJ walked into class he gave you a light wave and continued on to his assigned seat. He was following your advice, which was a hard thing to get JJ to do. You looked over and realized he was standing near where his seat was. 

And that someone was already in it.

The guy who was supposed to sit by you was in JJ’s seat. Meaning there was an empty seat right beside you.

JJ looked over his shoulder at you and grinned. He waltzed over, suddenly in a much better mood.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked you cheekily.

You looked past him to see the guy in JJ’s seat. He gave you a shrug and a look that said, “you’re welcome.” You almost laughed. 

“I guess not,” you answered JJ, looking back at him with a smile of your own.

He sat down in the seat, victorious. 

Mr. Sunn walked in when class started and went to the board.

“I see my words mean nothing to you, Mr. Maybank,” Mr. Sunn said, spotting JJ.

A smirk crossed your friend's face. “Actually,” he started, perking up. “My seat was taken.” 

Mr. Sunn looked at JJ's actual seat and sighed. The kid looked a little guilty but didn’t say anything. He looked back at JJ. “Fine, you win,” he decided. Then, he began to write on the board. 

After class, you and JJ parted from Kie and Pope to walk together to your next class. 

“I can’t believe he finally gave in,” you said with a laugh.

“I can be persuasive,” JJ replied smoothly.

You let out another laugh. “That was not persuasive. That was…I don’t know what that was,” you admitted.

“Fine, but I got what I wanted,” JJ revealed. It was no surprise, but there was something underlying in his tone. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” you held your hands up in surrender. The two of you stopped outside of your class and faced one another.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I would hope not.” 

“I’ll see you later,” you told him. “Don’t miss me too much,” you decided to add on. 

“Oh, baby, I always do,” he played along casually. 

Your face felt warm at the nickname, but you didn’t say anything more. When you all hung out later, the interaction played through your mind.

You were too distracted to realize JJ was staring at you all night—or at least that’s what Kie had told you later.

The next day in Mr. Sunn’s class, JJ was there before you. You couldn’t remember the last time he was ever in a class before you. You walked to your seat and he smiled up at you.

“Hi there,” you greeted, sitting down beside JJ. “For once you actually came to class early,” you pointed out. 

“Well, I had a reason to,” JJ replied with a smile. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You chuckled, thinking of a joke. “Do you need an alibi?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. “I’m serious though.” Your expression turned confused. “Not like, serious serious. Don’t look so worried.”

“Alright, what is it?” 

“After school today would you wanna hang out? Just me and you?” JJ asked with a hint of nervousness.

“We hang out all the time,” you started knowingly. “So if you’re asking…” you mused, suppressing a smile (you were having a hard time with that, though). “Is this you asking me on a date, JJ?” 

“Maybe,” JJ said with a tad of nervousness. “Would you want to?”

“Yeah,” you answered without hesitation. You could’ve held out longer and maybe messed with a little, but you decided against that.

JJ looked pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

In your head, you were beaming with excitement. Out loud you confirmed, “it’s a date.”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Mr. Sunn called to you and JJ, interrupting. “But since it seems important, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing with the class.”

“Well, I’ve got a date later, so that’s pretty great,” JJ practically bragged, not missing a beat. “As for how that goes, I don’t kiss and tell.” 

JJ shot you a wink after that, Kie and Pope looked over their shoulders so fast you thought their heads were gonna spin, and Mr. Sunn actually looked impressed.

“About time,” someone in the class spoke up. It was an unfamiliar voice. When you located the source, you found it was the boy in JJ’s old seat.

And what did you do? Well, all you could do was let out a laugh and share a smile with JJ.

You had a feeling this class was going to be much more fun now—although, maybe not as much fun as your date with JJ.

[nanenna]

Title: The Parent Trap Fandoms: Batman (DC Comics) and Danny Phantom Ships: None AUs: Demon Twins Warnings: Character injury, discussions of death.

Summary: It was just an ordinary night on patrol until...

“We need an evac,” Dick said, cutting the chatter off, “bird down.”

“Spoiler, you’re the closest to the cave. Nightwing, who’s with you?” Barb asked, “And how bad is the injury?”

“Robin,” Dick replied with some confusion before adding on with confidence, “a leg injury, we’re pretty sure it’s broken.”

“Robin?” Tim couldn’t help blurting out, looking over at Damian next to him, perched on his bike in full Robin costume. “But here’s right here, with me.”

---

Damian had been acting strange for the week or so. Rather, Robin had been acting strange for the last week. Not many people actually lived full time in the manor anymore, but everyone agreed that during the day he was his usual self. During patrols, however, he was simply a little… off. Like tonight for instance: Batman was away from Gotham on official Justice League business and Nightwing had agreed to cover his usual patrol route; normally Robin would tag along with Nightwing, giving the excuse that he needed to make sure Dick did the route correctly while everyone knew the demon brat really just wanted to spend more time with his favorite brother. But tonight…

“I will be joining you on your case, Drake.”

“You will?” Tim asked skeptically. Dick had already suited up and left, yet instead of scrambling to go catch up here Damian was, already all suited up, demanding to join Tim of all people.

“You are doing a stake out for street racers, correct? What will you do when they inevitably split to lose you?”

He sadly had a point, having someone else there would help. “Are you going to stab me?”

Robin didn't say anything, simply stood there and stared Tim down.

After standing there for a full minute, Tim sighed and headed for the vehicle bay, Robin hot on his heels. Without another word they donned helmets and slung legs over their bikes. Weird, but not unheard of, just another thing that was a little off. Not that Tim was entirely unhappy, he wanted a chance to observe Damian’s behavior. Even if he thought Dick was more likely to get Damian to open up.

…

And Tim was bored. The first half of patrol was quiet and uneventful, the street racers hadn’t shown up at their usual time/place yet, and Damian hadn’t said a damn thing the whole night. It’d just been the two of them riding around, not finding anything that needed their attention, and just being… normal. At least the usual chatter from the others was there to keep him company.

“We need an evac,” Dick said, cutting the chatter off, “bird down.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Spoiler, you’re the closest to the cave. Nightwing, who’s with you?” Barb asked, “And how bad is the injury?”

“Robin,” Dick replied with some confusion before adding on with confidence, “a leg injury, we’re pretty sure it’s broken.”

“Robin?” Tim couldn’t help blurting out, looking over at Damian next to him, perched on his bike in full Robin costume. “But here’s right here, with me.” The shadows around them grew deeper, seemed to sharpen.

“What? No, I’m looking right at him.”

“Well so am I!” 

“I’ve got your cams up and… well shit,” Barb murmured.

“Oracle,” Damian? Robin? Some imposter? said into the quiet comms, a hand up to his helmet, “send me Nightwing’s location.”

“Robin,” Oracle started, only to be interrupted.

“We’re in sector 36,” Damian? Robin? Some imposter? replied, going so far as to give longitude and latitude coordinates and a description of the building roof they’re on.

“Copy that,” Damian? Robin? Some imposter? said before revving his bike’s engine and taking off.

Tim would never admit to nearly losing him due to sheer shock. Too busy screaming “What the fuck” in his own head to remember he needed to follow, but follow he did. This… this might explain Damian’s strange behavior over the past couple weeks. If there was an imposter running around with them, but they would have surely noticed, right?

“We can’t have everyone abandoning their patrols!” Barb said in clear frustration. Heard clearly because the chatter was still gone, nothing but dead silence. You would think everyone would be demanding answers, peppering the Robins with non-stop questions. Hell, Tim wanted to, but he was too busy keeping his bike under him as he chased after his Robin.

“Red Robin and I are on motorcycles,” Damian? Robin? Some imposter? told Barb, “which means we have the small vehicle first aid kits, including analgesics, splints, and extra bandages.”

“We could use the splints,” Dick said faintly.

“And doing first aid before evac arrives means less time faffing about once Spoiler arrives.”

Tim nearly crashed, barely righting his bike. To hear Damian’s voice say “faffing about” was just… weird. Does that mean Tim’s Robin was the imposter?

“You all are faffing about right now,” Damian? Robin? Some imposter? grumbled before hissing.

“Stay still,” Dick chided.

Okay, so maybe “faffing” was a phrase Damian had recently learned from a classmate or something, Tim sure didn’t know. And oh thank god, they must have arrived. Damian? Robin? Some imposter? was parked on the sidewalk, helmet already off and just pulling the field kit from the bike’s storage. He didn’t even spare Tim a glance, simply looked up at the very tall building, looked down at his grapple, shrugged, put the grapple away, and then lifted off the ground and into the air.

“Shit,” Tim said softly but with feeling.

“What?” Barb asked, clearly very tense.

“I think my Robin was the imposter, he just flew up the building. Like Kryptonian flew.” Is this Jon? Were he and Damian pulling a Bruce and Clark? Except it couldn’t be, Jon had started packing on muscles while Damian was still in the lanky growing-taller-before-filling-out stage.

“Really, akhi?” Damian? Robin? Some imposter? asked in exasperation.

“Hey, the jig is well and truly up at this point,” Damian? Robin? Some imposter? replied.

Okay, that was really weird to hear in Damian’s voice. And oh wait, maybe Tim should get up there too.

“Oh shit, there really is two of them!” Dick said in shock. “Uh… hello there… other Robin?”

“Hello Nightwing, I brought the kit. I…” Damian paused, then sighed into the comm, “akhi, what did you do?”

Damian tsked, “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Your leg is broken!” Damian yelled.

“Did you see that with your x-ray vision?” Damian asked.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not Kryptonian,” Damian replied. “I don’t have x-ray vision.”

“Sure sound Kryptonian,” Tim muttered under his breath. The Robin that flew had slipped into a faint Midwestern drawl that reminded him of Clark.

“Can you just give me the kit?” Dick asked both warily and wearily.

“Right, yes. Here.” 

Tim had made it onto the roof by that point, just in time to watch one of the Robins hand over the kit to Nightwing before kneeling next to the other Robin, who had his leg stretched out in front of him while he sat half propped up on his elbows. The laying down Robin (the real one? The one that hasn’t shown any meta powers yet, anyway. Is one of them the real Robin or were they both imposters?) let himself fall fully on his back and held a hand out. The meta(?) Robin kneeled next to him and took his hand. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I am more worried about you, you’re not used to this.”

“Yeah, normally I’m the only one getting hurt, and I usually don’t have bones when that happens.” Imposter Robin laughed at that.

“What the fuck?” Tim said under his breath, what does that mean?

“Focus,” Dick chided as Tim came to join him in tending to Damian’s(?) injury.

“Batcopter ETA five minutes,” Barb said. “Agent A has the medbay prepped.”

Imposter Robin flinched at that. Odd.

“Focus,” Dick hissed. “Save the mystery for after we get our downed bird home.”

Tim almost pointed out they couldn't be sure either Robin was even the real one, but a scathing look from Dick that burned even through the domino white outs had Tim snapping his mouth shut. Instead he nodded and set about helping Dick set and splint Robin's leg.

Steph arrived right on time, between Dick, imposter Robin, and Tim they got the real(?) Robin loaded onto the batcopter. Then the imposter pulled something from his costume and tossed it at Dick.

“Keys?” Dick asked.

“We gotta get Robin's bike back to the cave somehow.” He hopped into the batcopter and settled next to the injured Robin.

Dick held out the keys, “And as Robin shouldn’t-”

“No,” the imposter interrupted. “I’m not leaving him.”

Seems it was Tim’s turn to be the voice of reason. He put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “Robin trusts him, we’ll meet them back at the cave in a minute.” If the injured Robin even was the real Damian, if the imposter didn’t use his unknown powers to escape, if any slew of unpredictable situations. Holy hell, Tim could see why Bruce was so paranoid about knowing everything about everyone. He’d be in the middle of three panic attacks and an existential crisis on top of a heart attack if he were here right now. But he wasn’t, thankfully. Instead Tim pulled Dick away from the batcopter so Steph could take back off and head to the cave.

Soon Dick and Tim were on their respective bikes, Nightwing looking ridiculous on Robin’s candy apple red paint job, and were zooming through the streets at a pace that was while fast still gave Tim time to actually think. He went back over everything the two Robins had said since Nightwing had called in for an evac. And then it hit him.

“Akhi.”

“What about it?” Dick asked.

“It’s what they called each other.”

“Brother,” Cass added in her soft voice.

“Right, in Arabic. They called each other brother. And recently Robin told us about his twin brother.”

“Are you telling us that Robin’s twin brother came back from the dead and decided to just… join us on patrol?” Dick asked in disbelief.

“He told us several weeks ago, and has been acting odd on patrol for nearly two weeks now. If when he told us was when he found out, or at least started planning this, then they had a few weeks for Robin to give his twin a crash course on us before pulling this stunt.”

There was muffled laughter in the comms, but Tim wasn’t sure who.

“But why?” Oracle asked.

“A prank?” Dick asked.

“A test of some kind,” Tim said in a monotone. There was a double tap on the comm, Cass’s form of nonverbal agreement.

“The batcopter has arrived back at the cave,” Oracle informed them. Everyone else grew quiet, waiting for whatever was about to happen to happen.

“... -nk went too far,” Damian (or his twin?) was saying into the comm.

“TT, it did not,” Damian replied.

“You couldn’t taste their emotions,” okay that was the twin, and what a weird way to phrase that, “they were really scared.”

“You like the taste of fear.”

Wow, Damian, really not helping with how creepy your long dead twin is being.

“Well yeah, obviously, it’s delicious. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to go around purposefully scaring your family.”

Fear is delicious?!

“What does it matter? As you said, ‘the jig is up’ and the prank is over. We will have to explain ourselves when the others arrive.”

“Others like me?” Steph asked cheerfully.

“Great, time for the great bat interrogation,” the twin said with exactly zero enthusiasm.

“Not until Master Damian has been seen to,” Alfred said. Tim could just see the raised eyebrow.

Tim tuned the rest out as those actually in the cave set about the logistics of getting Damian moved to the medbay.

“He can taste fear?” Tim asked incredulously.

“You know as much as the rest of us,” Dick said back.

“Does that make him an empath? He said he’s not Kryptonian, would that make his power suite closer to a Marian? Wait, neither Talia nor Bruce have the meta gene, how’d he even get powers?”

“Maybe he got them from the Lazarus Pits?”

There was a snort in the comms, “Then why didn’t I get powers?”

“Hood? What’re you doing on our comms?” Dick sounded far too delighted.

“I have an alert set up for whenever your chatter stops, it’s always a bad sign.”

“Fair enough, you heading to the cave to meet the demon brat’s long lost twin?”

There was a scoff from Jason, “Of course!”

“Everyone’s headed for the cave,” Oracle said with a tone of defeat.

“Stuck in ops?” Dick asked.

“Well someone has to keep an ear on things while the rest of you get to go have fun.”

“We’ll keep our comms on.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Tim and Dick both laughed at that. Fortunately they arrived back at the cave at that point, quickly parking their bikes and all but running over to the medbay. Steph was standing just outside the door, clearly keeping an eye on things while Alfred and the twin fussed over Damian. Tim and Dick went to go join Steph at the door, none of them willing to risk Alfred’s wrath should they get in his way. Cass joined them shortly after, all four staring as Alfred finished up what he could do for Damian. The demon brat was laid out on a medical cot, his costume set to the side, down to just the thin layer worn under the armor, mask already removed.

“Leslie has been called, she’ll be here in the morning with the necessary supplies. I’m afraid you will have to remain here until then, Master Damian.”

Damian tsked, but otherwise said nothing.

“And now I do believe we are all owed an explanation.” Alfred turned ever so slightly as his attention turned to Damian’s twin.

Damian responded by struggling in his bed.

“What are you doing, akhi?” the twin asked, clearly exasperated.

“I will be sitting up for this,” Damian snarled.

Without a word Alfred handed Damian the bed’s controls, allowing him to slowly raise himself into a reclined sitting position. Alfred raised a brow as if to ask if that would do, Damian only glowered at the wall.

The twin started pulling his domino off. Damian tsked yet again and handed his twin a wipe to help pull the mask off. “Ancients,” the twin said, which Dick mouthed in confusion, “you lot sure do love your theming. And I thought the ghosts had it bad.”

“Ghosts?” Tim mouthed, exchanging quick, confused glances with Dick.

“So yeah, hi. I’m Danny, Damian’s long lost twin.” The twin, now known as Danny, said with a little wave after he got the domino off. And there was no denying that he was Damian’s twin, he had Damian’s face in every feature save his eyes. While Damian clearly had Talia’s eyes, Danny’s were all Bruce.

“Everyone, this is my brother, Danyal Al Ghul Wayne.”

“Legally not my name anymore.”

“Legally?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, I got adopted!” Danny grinned again, all sunshine and cheer that was so wrong when he had Damian’s face.

Tim snorted, Bruce’s kid had been adopted. Oh things just got complicated but the irony of Brucie being on the other end of a kid getting adopted was still a fun kind of irony. Or maybe Tim had gotten to the everything-is-hilarious stage of sleep depravation.

“So what is your legal name?” Dick asked.

“Um… I’m not sure I should tell you that.” Danny fidgeted nervously. “Not yet anyway. I mean, Bruce… uh… our father? Isn’t here and like… shouldn’t he be told? Too? Or first? Honestly I’d rather just be able to tell everyone at the same time rather than having to go over the whole thing every time someone new walks in the door.”

As if he had timed it to happen that way, Jason came roaring into the cave on his bike. There was a collective sigh as everyone crowding around the outside of the door knew they’d have to wait for Jason to get there before things could continue, even if he had been listening in along with Oracle on his way in.

Danny’s face lit up as Jason, still wearing his full Red Hood gear, came into view. He whooped and threw both hands in the air as he ran out the door, somehow not even touching any of the vigilantes crowded in the way.

Jason stopped dead, his own hands raised up halfway in front of him as if unsure what to do. Danny just slapped both of Jason’s with his own in a kind of low five, then bounced excitedly in place. “Undead solidarity, yeah!”

“Uh… what?” Jason’s modulated voice asked in its usual monotone.

“I’ve been dying to meet you!”

“Heh, have you? Were you dead set on meeting the best?”

Damian groaned, “Stop encouraging Danyal’s insipid sense of humor.”

“Yeah, you’re the best!” Danny continued as if Damian hadn’t said a thing, “My favorite new brother!”

Dick gasped and clutched his chest.

Jason pointed at him and laughed as he slung an arm over Danny’s shoulders. “I see you are a kid of taste. How do you feel about Jane Austen.”

Danny winced, “My dude, I’m a guy in high school.”

“And so was I once, but we can’t all have my impeccable taste.” He started walking Danny back over to the medbay. “Anyway, Bruce shouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon, we really going to wait that long for the whole story?”

Danny winced, then cursed quietly under his breath. “We’ll have to, something just came up.”

Everyone frowned at that, “What do you mean?” Damian asked.

“The real deal got into a fight and uh… they’re pretty strong. I think I’m gonna need to recombine.”

“What?” Jason said, it was hard to tell if the flatness was his own voice or the modulator.

“Oh uh… I’m a… what’s that word again… doppelganger! That’s it. The main body’s back home and,” he winced again, a bruise blooming across his cheek in real time. No, in double time, it was like watching a time lapse of a bruise blooming and slowly starting to heal. “Look, having my attention and powers split like this is normally fine, a good way to keep my powers in check for fighting normal humans actually. But uh… let’s see… I think I’m fighting Plasmius?”

“We don’t know who that is,” Damian said with a sigh. “He keeps saying names of people or things like I’ll know what it means.”

“It means I can’t afford to have my attention and powers split over two bodies, so I’m about to poof. Sorry. But I’ll be back tomorrow, summon me after school Dami?”

“Summon?” Everyone but the twins asked in confusion.

“Of course, Danyal. Good luck fighting your rogue.”

“I think the fruit loop counts as my arch nemesis, unfortunately. But I gotta sorta slide back, can’t have all of tonight’s memories and my half of the power hit me all at once. This might look a little freaky, but it’s normal and I’m fine I promise.”

Jason unslung his arm from Danny’s shoulder and took a step to the side. They all gawked as Danny closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, his breath frosting in what should be warm air. His face, the only part of him not covered by the Robin costume, started to go invisible at the same time his skin and hair started to gray. Then he was gone and the costume was left behind, slumping to the floor in a pile.

Everyone stood there for a moment, staring at the colorful pile of armor, then they all turned to look at Damian.

“TT, don’t ask me. I still don’t have a full list of everything he can do.”

---

Tim, along with everyone else, was at the manor the next afternoon. And he did mean everyone, even Kate, Harper, and Cullen were there. Hell, even Jason was there, on time no less. Damian had put “17:30 sharp” in the family (minus Bruce) chat and they knew he meant it. They were crowded into one of the larger sitting rooms, every chair filled save a chaise lounge that had been reserved for Damian. The boy of the hour arrived right on time, with five minutes leeway to set everything up.

“So tell me again who you want to introduce us to, chum?” Bruce asked as he followed behind Damian. Alfred brought up the rear, a plate of fresh cookies in hand.

“I haven't told you yet, Father. Have some patience, it will all make sense soon.” Damian settled on the lounge, setting his crutches to lean against it before pulling something out of his pocket. It was a small metal container, he popped it open and pulled out what appeared to be a bright green handkerchief. Very bright green, possible letting off light, neon toxic green. Duke made a soft surprised sound. Damian spread the cloth out on the coffee table in front of him and smoothed it out.

“Damian,” Bruce said carefully, “what is that?”

“A summoning circle, obviously.”

Wait, Danny was serious about being summoned?

“Can… can you even summon living people?” Dick leaned over from where he was perched on the couch’s arm to whisper to Cass, who was perched behind Tim on the couch’s back. Tim and Cass both shrugged.

“Damian, dealing with the occult is very dangerous.”

“It’s quite safe, Father.” Damian pointed down at the white markings on the handkerchief, “Since all the sigils are on here permanently there is no chance of making a mistake drawing them by hand. This group here is his name, this circle can summon one person and one person only. The rest of these are for protection. And this spot here,” Damian tapped on a small circle within the outer ring, “is to activate it. It does require a single drop of blood, it was the safest way to make the circle.”

“Blood?” Bruce asked flatly.

“It will make sense when I call him, do you trust me?”

“I’m not sure I trust whoever this “him” is,” Bruce grumbled.

“But do you trust me, Father?”

Bruce sighed, “You promise whoever this is means us no harm?”

“Of course, I promise.”

“I met the young man last night,” Alfred said as he placed the plate of cookies in the circle. “I found him to be polite and sincere.”

“So this is to do with whatever happened last night that I can’t get any of you to tell me about?”

“We want to explain it ourselves,” Damian said firmly. Then he pulled out a batarang and carefully poked a finger. “Blood of my blood, I call forth the spirit of my brother, Danyal.” He touched the drop of blood to the handkerchief, which lit up as the air around them shifted. 

A figure began floating up from the circle, glowing white hair that waved as if they were under water, ashen skin, glowing Lazarus green eyes, a wide smile filled with sharp fangs. This… this wasn’t Danny, was this? The figure seemed to be wearing some kind of black jumpsuit, white gloves picking up the plate of cookies as they passed through the plate. They had no legs, after the belt the body just continued in a long tapering tail that ended like whisps of smoke. They were glowing, they were slightly see through! What was going on?

This wasn’t the boy they’d met last night.

“Father, my brother. Danyal, our father.” Damian paused, then added on, “And the rest of our family.”

“Hi,” the figure chirped, then seemed to shrink into himself as he looked around. “I uh… prefer to be called Danny. The only people who full name me are usually trying to kill me. Or send me to detention.”

That was Damian’s, or rather Danny’s voice alright. Even still had the faint midwestern drawal.

“Why do you look so different?” Dick asked in shock.

“It’s… a long story. Which I’m supposed to tell everyone.” Danny shrunk further into himself, looking miserable. “Please stop being so scared.”

“They are simply adjusting to your unfamiliar form, they will get over it,” Damian said firmly, glaring at everyone in the room.

“It’s not just fear, Dami, they’re horrified.”

“Sit down, eat your cookies. Alfred worked hard on those.” Damian patted the empty space next to him on the chaise lounge. 

Danny turned and spun in place to sit down, looked down at where his tail was curled up under him, made a sour face, then the tail was suddenly replaced by a pair of legs tucked under him. He shoved a cookie into his mouth, now sporting normal teeth from what little Tim could see. “S’good,” Danny slurred, glancing over at Alfred who merely nodded his approval.

“Some time ago,” Damian started, as if that wasn’t the most vague way to start, “I summoned Danyal the first time. I am aware it was foolish, I will not hear about it.”

“I called him dumb already,” Danny added in. “I mean, I had to go find someone to explain how the circles work and what makes them safe or dangerous first, but yeah, I called him dumb. Then I had some friends help me make this,” Danny reached over and tapped the handkerchief, “then I went to three trusted uh… mentors? I guess I’d call them? And made sure with each of them this thing is legit before giving it to Dami.”

Bruce hadn’t moved, still standing in front of the coffee table, slack jawed, staring blankly down at Danny and Damian.

“Is he okay?” Danny stage whispered to Damian.

“Perhaps keeping it a surprise was not the optimal option.”

That seemed to snap Bruce out of it, “I think I need to sit down.”

Dick hopped up to guide Bruce to the nearest open seat, which happened to be the chaise lounge. Danny quickly flew up and moved to float cross legged in the air just on the other side of Damian, as if he were sitting in some invisible chair. He munched another cookie before offering the plate to Damian, who took a cookie for himself.

Once Bruce and Dick had settled back down, Damian decided to continue the story. “More recently I needed to do a covert investigation, but I couldn’t allow any of you know.”

“You what?” Bruce asked, clearly upset.

“I know, he still hasn’t even told me what it was. And I had to cover for him!” Danny sounded so offended.

“I had Danyal take my place in patrol while I was away.”

“When?” Bruce asked, voice dipping down as he leveled a steely glare at Damian.

“You never noticed, I think that speaks for itself. So as a test-”

Cass and Tim bumped fists.

“-Danyal has been joining us on patrols for the last twelve days.”

“Almost made it the full two weeks too,” Danny said airily. “That reminds me, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“What? No!” Damian shot back angrily. “They found out before the two weeks were up, clearly I won that bet and you owe me!”

“They didn’t figure it out, that part of the bet is a draw at best for you. No, the fifty is because you’re the reason they found out. It seems awfully suspicious you got into some kind of accident right before the deadline, how did you break your leg again?”

“I did not break my leg on purpose just to win a meaningless bet!”

“Okay, both of you need to calm down,” Bruce said, looking unsure if he needed to step between the two squabbling boys. “You… had a bet?”

“I bet fifty bucks I wouldn’t give myself away before the two weeks were up, Damian bet fifty bucks you’d figure me out before two weeks. And they didn’t figure it out.” Danny turned to glare at Damian as he said that last part.

“Fine,” Damian conceded with a pout. “I shall venmo you your winnings.”

The ghost floating in front of them has a venmo. The ghost floating in front of them has a use for US currency. What is going on? Is Tim hallucinating?

Damian’s pout deepened, “I am still disappointed in you all for not noticing a whole extra person joining our patrols.”

“In my defense, I don’t patrol with you guys,” Duke joked.

“In our defense, we were suspicious,” Tim added.

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Damian, we had no way of even expecting you to switch places with your long lost dead twin.” Bruce paused, then looked over at Danny. “How did you pull that off? No offense Danny, but you are very easy to tell apart right now.”

“Oh, that’s because I can do this.” A bright flash of light washed over Danny, changing him back to the boy Tim had met the night before, only wearing baggy casual clothes instead of brightly colored armor.

Duke yelped and covered his eyes, “A little more warning next time? Damn, that was bright!”

“Oops, sorry.”

“Oh thank god, I was so worried,” Steph murmured from next to Tim.

“Well that was flashy,” Dick said.

Bruce seemed broken again, staring at the now living, black haired, blue eyed boy sitting cross legged in the air next to Damian.

“Okay, so what the fuck was all that?” Jason asked, motioning to Danny. “Are you dead or aren’t you? Because you don’t look dead right now.”

“Neither do you,” Danny snarked back.

“I’m not dead though.”

“You sure?”

“Not anymore,” Jason said stubbornly.

“No one ever comes all the way back, not anyone who was dead dead.”

“Please stop,” Bruce begged. Dick whimpered in agreement.

Danny ducked into his shoulders again, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Since it would be inconvenient for Robin to be missing at the same time I have a broken leg,” Damian said as a clear subject change, “and we have a perfect stand in who’s already proven himself in the field, Danyal has kindly offered to cover for me for the next few nights.”

“I managed to soup Plasmius last night, so that gives me two, three days max of not having to worry about his schemes. My friends can cover for me during the night so long as I’m still back home during the day. Unless a rabid ancient show up, anyway.”

“What does any of that even mean?” Tim begged.

“We could use some context,” Dick added.

“Right, I guess this is when the life story portion starts,” Danny said with a sigh.

“Perhaps you would prefer to talk over dinner?” Alfred asked from the room’s doorway.

“Dinner sounds great!” Danny cheered as he hopped to his feet, now firmly on the floor. “I’m not sure talking about dying and coming back is the best dinner conversation though,” Danny said absently as he and Bruce helped Damian to his feet.

“Alfred usually has a strict no work talk at the dinner table rule,” Tim teased.

“I think he can make an exception for someone’s life story,” Duke laughed. There were several murmurs of agreement.

“Alright, well I guess we can start with the first time I died,” Danny said as the group slowly filed out of the sitting room and towards the dining room.

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

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

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part nine.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 714,148 others

tagged: yourusername

mclaren As we get closer and closer to the start of the 2024 season, we thought we’d take the time to introduce new fans to the team that works behind the scenes! Starting us off, we have Y/N L/N, our personal paddock photographer! Y/N has been here with us at McLaren since 2019, and is the genius mind behind many of the photos we’ve posted throughout the years. She’s an important part of our community and helps tremendously in not only capturing our drivers in action, but also in getting the other behind the scenes members of our team the recognition they deserve. We’re glad to have her back here with us in Bahrain, and we can’t wait to see what beautiful concoctions she comes up with this year! 🧡

view all 9,147 comments

user if there is 100 y/n fans, i am one of them. if there is one y/n fan, it is me. if there are no y/n fans, i have died.

user love love LOVE that mclaren takes the time to recognize the hard work of everyone who supports the drivers

↳ user i feel like f1 promotes the racers, team principals, and pit crew so much and forgets about everyone else that makes sure these teams are able to function so seamlessly

user CAN WE GET A MEET THE ADMIN POST TOO??? 👀👀👀

user i bumped into y/n back in silverstone 2021, like literally bumped into her, and she was so sweet!!

user she’s my photography inspo 🤩

user her dedication to the mclaren team is so apparent when you think about the fact that she DOESN’T get the same recognition as the drivers, but she has chosen to work for them for what will be 6 years as of this season. she could have easily move to a different formula 1 team or even another sport entirely, but she still comes back and that’s a dedicated artist

↳ user the fact that she did a little stint over at manchester city fc and STILL chose to come back to mclaren even tho i imagine f1 has a much harsher and stricter schedule with the intercontinental travel than football does

user this is who we have to thank for all those beautiful shots of lando??? cuz if so, bless her omg 🙏🙏🙏

user in this household we appreciate the crew that works tirelessly to keep us entertained

user so tired of seeing ppl disregard her skill as a photographer just bc of who she’s dating

↳ user OMG SAME

yourusername glad to be here, can’t wait to travel the world with these amazing people 🧡

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yourusername locked in and ready 😎

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oscarpiastri so glad you’ve gotten over your temporary obsession with blue 😁

↳ yourusername so glad you haven’t lost your ability to get on my last nerve 😁

↳ oscarpiastri so glad you’re still insufferable even on your best days 😁

↳ yourusername now that’s a comeback i can be proud of 🥹

user MISSED THESE LADS OH MY DAYS

user ONE DAY UNTIL TESTING GUYS

user oscar looking fine asf these days 😩 that winter break treated him well

mclaren The boys are back in town!

↳ yourusername dare i say my milkshake brought them to the yard?

↳ mclaren It certainly called us 😍

↳ yourusername you flatter me mclaren admin 😌

↳ mclaren Only the best for our best 😘

user that’s some pretty intense eye contact from lando in the last image…

↳ user he ain’t even looking at the camera

↳ user nah bruv is def looking at y/n 👀👀

↳ user I NEED THEM TO GET OVER WHATEVER HAPPENED AND GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS CUZ I MISS THE BANTER IN THE COMMENTS

↳ user i think we should probably respect their privacy and understand that something happened (presumably in the off season) that we weren’t privy to. so long as they can both maintain professionalism around one another, they don’t have to do or “get over” anything. does it suck to see two very close friends no longer get along in the way they used to? absolutely. but we don’t know what happened or if anything even did happen. in the event that something did, we don’t know who’s involved or who, if anyone, is at fault. they’re both justified in choosing to end a friendship due to a falling out, or even if they just grew distant. but even as i say all of this, it’s still speculation.

↳ user we don’t actually know if they aren’t friends any longer or if they’ve just moved their friendship off of online platforms. it should be noted that y/n is very publicly dating someone, and idk about you, but i know firsthand how delusional fans can be. her bf’s fans could easily attack her over banter with another man, and lando’s fans could just as easily start reading into that same banter which runs the very real possibility of putting all three of them in an awkward situation where y/n is being shipped with a man that ISN’T her bf.

↳ user what about the banter she has with the mclaren admin? 🤔

↳ user context is super important here. the flirting between y/n and the mclaren admin is very obviously fake. it has been from the beginning, and when ppl “ship” the two of them together it’s for the bit and to play along with their fake bromance. lando and y/n have both been legitimately shipped together since they both started working with mclaren, which changes the undertone of the shipping comments bc ppl often genuinely misconstrue their banter as REAL flirting.

user why do comment sections related to y/n always turn into debate sessions

↳ user REAL like ain’t no way i’m reading all that

user oscar’s hair sticking up in every picture is my roman empire

user I’VE BEEN MISSING THE ORANGE I’M SO GLAD IT’S BACK 🧡🧡🧡

user wait i didn’t even realize until now that this is the first post in like a month that’s actually had public comments turned on

↳ user probably bc her bf’s loser fans have finally stopped harassing her

jackgrealish must be nice having all that sun 😒

↳ yourusername it really is, bet you’re jealous

Testing goes fine, until it doesn’t.

“A drain cover?” Lando’s voice echoes across the garage. “Another fucking drain cover?”

You purse your lips.

Yesterday, he’d been upset on Oscar’s behalf when they’d cancelled the remainder of the morning session after only a couple hours to solve the problem of the track’s dislodged pieces. He’d complained and cussed out the incompetence, and then reassured Oscar that things would be better for the third day.

But the third day is here now, and he’s even more upset now being told to pit after a measly thirty minutes for the same issue.

“This is the second fucking time━” he cuts himself off with an angry huff and runs his hands roughly through the curls of his hair, letting his fingers catch on the tangles and yanking through them in his frustration. Sweat glistens on his furrowed brow. His cheeks are still flushed from the heat of the car.

It’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him since you’ve come back.

The time you’ve already spent in Bahrain has been stilted at best. Lando continues to stick with his attempts at avoiding you, but it’s harder to do so here when your hotel rooms are on the same floor and you’re limited to the confines of the garage for most of the day. Even when he isn’t in the car, there’s not a lot to do wandering around the paddock and even if there was they’ve encouraged him to stay where he can easily be reached.

You’re trying not to be smug about it, but every time you glance over your shoulder and catch him watching you━ catch him quickly looking away when your eyes meet and he realizes he’s been caught━ you feel pleased.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Lando, it’s that he’s always got a limit.

If you wait long enough, stand your ground and prove that you really have no intentions whatsoever of giving in and breaking the ice between the two of you, eventually he’ll cave. When he realizes he won’t get what he wants, that he’ll have to actually put in the effort to repair what he’s broken rather than having it magically fix itself, he’ll have no other choice but to do so.

“They might not cancel the session,” Oscar chimes in, attempting to placate his aggravated teammate. “Since they already had to yesterday, I doubt they’ll do it again today.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t actually calm Lando down at all. If anything, it just reminds him again of the fact that this is the second time this same complication has happened which has him huffing angrily again and running his hands through his tangled curls even rougher.

You wince at that.

Andrea, McLaren’s team principal, steps forward. “Take a breath,” he orders, resting a heavy hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Go walk a lap around the garage or something, whatever, but I need you to calm down.”

You’re prepared for that to be the end of it, but then Andrea looks over and catches your eye. “Y/N,” he says, nodding his head towards Lando. “You go with him. Keep him out of trouble.”

Well.

You like to think you do a much better job at keeping your emotions off of your face than Lando, which isn’t hard when his features scrunch up into a pained scowl at Andrea’s words, but you can feel the pinch of your own eyebrows furrowing and the smile you send towards the team principal probably looks more like a grimace if Oscar pursed lips in your peripherals is anything to go by.

Lando storms out and you follow reluctantly after him.

He can’t really go very far, not if he wants to be within a reasonable distance when━ if━ they call him back to continue the morning testing session. So he paces back and forth and back and forth just outside the garage’s exit out into the paddock.

Your phone tells you that ten minutes pass like this. It’s the longest you’ve been alone with him in a while and his distraction lets you focus on the finer details that you’ve missed when he’s going out of his way to avoid you.

There are deep, dark, bruise-like circles that hang heavily beneath his eyes. His skin is sun-kissed and tanned from his time out catching rays during his travels, but there’s a pale pallor beneath the added color that makes him look sick. Despite his current anger and the tension coiled in his muscles just waiting to lash out and strike, his shoulders seem to droop beneath the invisible weight of whatever he’s carrying with him.

He looks small.

Lando’s always been on the shorter side, but he’s never before looked small. Not like this. Never like this.

The longer you watch, the more the back and forth pacing starts to transform into the anxious stride of a cornered animal.

You aren’t arrogant enough to assume he’s like this because of you entirely, but it does occur to you that maybe he’s having just as rough of a time as you are with the newfound distance between yourselves.

You watch him silently, for a little while longer, observing the way his stride hitches every few steps and he just barely manages to stop himself from stumbling over his own feet. He’s still running his hands through his hair. By the seventh time he practically claws his fingers through his curls you heave a sigh.

“Quit that,” you snap.

“Quit what?” He fires back with just as much bite.

You roll your eyes. “You’re gonna rip your hair out if you keep pulling on it like that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you with a sneer. His words drip with sarcasm. “I forgot you must be used to Grealish now, right? And I bet he’s got at least a ten-step hair care routine. I wonder, does he use unicorn sweat and essence of rainbow to keep it that smooth and bright? There’s no other possible way!”

“You’re being an asshole, Lando.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he says. “How could I ever think Grealish would use unicorn sweat of all things? He uses pixies tears, my mistake.”

You’re not sure how a few words managed to turn into this━ you’d just wanted him to stop pulling at his hair. It looked painful and he’s always been a bit tender headed. Now, instead, you can feel the anger bubbling up inside you and it seems like Lando’s frustrations about the testing delay, and your friendship with Jack apparently, have made things worse.

Like throwing gasoline onto a flame.

You scowl, “Seriously. You’re being a fucking prick.”

He throws his arms up into the air, “Why not just run off to Grealish then? Since he seems to be your new best friend and you tell him everything.”

If your life were a movie, this is the moment in time when the stars would align and fate would force everything to position itself perfect in place. Like the pieces of a puzzle, it would all work out and you’d calmly explain to Lando what happened back in January with Garrett and Manchester City, and he’d understand immediately and apologize, and you’d hug it out and then both return to the garage just in time for them to announce the testing session would re-commence.

But your life isn’t a movie, and reality feels significantly different to the scripted perfection of fiction.

The precarious security of the perch you’ve settled yourself upon comes crashing down, and the tentative balance you’ve managed to maintain since the start of February when you were back in papaya again shatters with it. Something inside you snaps. The dam has burst and everything held back comes rushing to the front like a torrential wave.

“At least he was there for me when some prick blackmailed me into a relationship at the threat of my livelihood,” you snarl.

Lando pauses for a moment. He makes a couple different faces before settling on a mix between pissed off and confused, and his arms cross over his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to be in a relationship with Garrett Ward, Lando!” You exclaim. “He threatened that if I didn’t pretend to be his girlfriend, he’d fake some misconduct rumor and ruin my career and I was too afraid to say no because this is all I have!”

This isn’t how you’d wanted it all to go down. You’d always imagined you’d get the satisfaction of an apology, and that Lando would get drunk on cheap wine with you like old times, and you’d explain what all happened with the confidence of being a little tipsy and you wouldn’t feel ashamed because Lando’s your best friend and he’d reassure you that you did what you had to, and then you’d listen to him shit talk Garrett for the rest of the night. In the morning, he’d have some idea of how to fix it all without ruining your career, and then you’d be able to put it all behind you and go back to how things were before the winter off-season ever started.

This is far from that, but there’s a sense of relief that comes nonetheless from getting it all off your chest to Lando━ to the person you’ve wanted to talk to from the very beginning

You feel tears burning your eyes, blurring your vision. “I can barely pay my rent as is, and I’m only actually living there for a few dumb months out of the year anyway. Do you know how much worse it would be if I got kicked from McLaren too? Nobody else in the country would hire me if he followed through with what he was threatening.”

“Well,” Lando shrugs his shoulders, looking properly chastised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I fucking tried, you muppet!” You throw your arms up in exasperation and then wipe at your eyes in frustration when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I called you every day for a week and you ignored me! I sent you text after text after fucking text━” your voice breaks, “━and you didn’t even read them! Did you know I locked myself in the bathroom and cried every single day I had to work there?”

You glare at him.

“The only thing that made it better was Jack fucking Grealish coming into my office and telling me I could at least go to him if I ever needed anything,” you snap. “So fuck off with this whole holier than thou bullshit. You left me, and Jack took your place because I was drowning!”

“Y/N…”

Crying hadn’t been a part of your plan, but the tears won’t stop now that they’re going. It’s embarrassing. You’re already worried about just how many people heard you shouting, and now you’re even more worried about someone coming back to look for you both and finding you sobbing your eyes out.

“I’m sorry━”

Lando’s arms wrap around you, warm and strong and sure.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: and there we have it folks. lando is finally back in the picture! this part was a lot of fun to write, because i've been waiting for this moment since the initial fallout in the beginning. on that note, i finished getting it all whipped up this morning while watching the qualis, so if there are any mistakes that i haven't caught that's why. i was a bit distracted, so please pretend they aren't there haha!