#I love him but I cannot give him in this moment. he is not getting them

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Twenty-Five

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

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

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, time skips, so much fluff, sexual content, mentions of pregnancy.

Notes — The first of two 2022 chapters. Prepare yourselves, maybe grab a drink and a snack. It’s a long one.

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

February 2022

Max and Pietra’s flat smelt of hairspray and lavender air freshener. One of Pietra’s playlists, hilariously named ‘Soft Amelia Approved’ was playing from her phone. Amelia sat in front of the vanity, gripping the edge of the stool. Her hair was half-styled, soft waves pinned back temporarily, and her dress, a sleek, ice-blue gown with structured shoulders, hung on the front of the wardrobe like a quiet threat.

Pietra stood behind her in leggings and a hoodie, carefully applying highlighter to Amelia’s cheekbones. “You’re doing very well,” she said gently. “You haven’t cried yet.”

Amelia glanced up in the mirror, blinking quickly. “I’m very uncomfortable right now.”

Pietra laughed, soft and fond. “Okay, that’s fine. Being uncomfortable is a normal human experience. But if it gets too much, just say so.” She told her. 

“My face feels weird.”

“That’s because you’re used to only wearing moisturiser and mascara. I’ve given you a full face.”

Amelia grimaced. “Yes. I know. I can feel it. All of it. Every layer.” 

“Mmhm.” Pietra stepped back and handed her the lip balm. “So, to distract you: I cannot believe that you got engaged and didn’t tell anyone for, like, weeks.”

Amelia dabbed the balm with a heavy hand. “Lando did. He was telling everyone, P. And your Max knew. Still can’t believe he didn’t even bother telling you. Men are so strange.” She sighed. 

Pietra leaned against the vanity, arms crossed. “I am still a little bitter that you didn’t tell me yourself.” 

“Sorry,” Amelia said simply.

“You let Lando tell the entire McLaren factory.”

“I know,” Amelia muttered. “But I told you eventually. It still counts.”

Pietra grinned. “The old lady at the Monaco patisserie knew before I did.”

Amelia made a face. “Thanks to Lando, that lady knew before our parents did. But it’s fine. She’s started giving me free madeleines.”

They shared a quiet laugh. The warmth in the room softened Amelia’s shoulders slightly. Pietra picked up one of the makeup brushes, but didn’t start working again — just watched her, brows lifted slightly.

“Am I really your only girl friend?”

Amelia didn’t look away. “You are.”

“That’s kind of sad.” Pietra frowned. 

“It’s not.” Amelia denied. “Most people, girls especially, expect… social cues. Emotional reciprocity. I don’t have that in the way they want it. But you’ve never made me feel like I’m broken for it.”

Pietra blinked, suddenly glossy-eyed. “Okay, well. Now I’m the one who’s going to cry.”

“I love you,” Amelia said, in her typically direct way. 

Pietra swallowed. “I love you too.” There was a beat before she cleared her throat. “So, are you ready for tonight? Lando’s briefed you, yes? It’s going to be a bit intense.” Pietra said, picking up her steamer and glancing at the gown.

Amelia stared at her reflection for a moment longer. “No. But I’ll do it anyway. It’ll make him happy to have me there with him.”

“Exactly. And when it’s over, you’ll come back here, and you’ll be able to scrub all of that makeup off of your face, eat pasta in your dressing gown, and watch Love Island with subtitles on.”

Amelia exhaled, steadier now. “Will you make me some tea?”

“Of course I will,” Pietra said, grabbing the dress and holding it out. “Now. Let’s get you dressed.” 

— 

Lando was pacing Max’s bedroom, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket for the tenth time. The bow tie was already starting to feel too tight, but he refused to mess with it and risk messing it up. He could hear Pietra bustling in the other room, her voice drifting faintly through the cracked door; sharp, encouraging, then quiet.

Then the door opened.

And he stopped breathing.

Amelia stepped out slowly, one hand smoothing down the front of her gown. It was the palest icy blue, the neckline clean and sharp, the silhouette structured and strong, like something from a fucking fairy tale. Her dark hair was tucked back loosely, a few curls brushing her jaw, and she was wearing more makeup than usual — shimmer at her cheeks and a soft shine on her mouth. Not too much. Just enough.

She froze when she saw him. “You’re staring at me.”

“You—” Lando blinked. “I’ve forgot how to say words.”

Amelia tilted her head. “Oh no. You’re supposed to present an award tonight. On stage. Maybe you should work on that.” 

He stepped closer, slow and reverent, his eyes scanning her face, the line of her shoulders, the way the dress hugged her waist. He reached out, hands hovering for a second like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to touch her. “You look like— I don’t even know. So beautiful, baby. We should just ditch the red carpet, yeah? Just drive a million miles and never have anyone other than me look at you ever again.”

She blinked at him. “That’s… either deeply romantic or mildly horrifying.”

“Both,” he whispered, finally letting his hands settle at her waist. “God, Amelia.”

Her eyes softened as she looked up at him, and when he kissed her, it was careful — like he didn’t want to smudge anything, like she was made of glass.  “You’re going to outshine everyone there,” he murmured into her hair.

“I’ll be fine just standing in the corner,” she replied. “With my noise-cancelling earbuds and a glass of icy cold water. With a straw.” 

Pietra poked her head around the corner. “If you two are done, the car’s downstairs. Max is talking to the driver.”

Lando reached for Amelia’s coat. “Come on then, future Mrs. Norris. Let’s go cause a scene.”

She slid her arm into his, leaned against him just a little. “Pietra promised me pasta and Love Island when we get back.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” he promised.

—

The red carpet was chaos.

Flashes strobed like lightning, the roar of photographers cutting through the February night. Celebrities in designer gowns and sleek tuxedos moved with a strange kind of practiced elegance — confident, gliding, like they belonged here.

Amelia did not feel like she belonged here.

She held Lando’s hand tightly, her free hand tucked into the folds of her dress. Her heart was hammering, her mouth set in that unreadable, slightly stern line. 

Lando looked dazzling, sharp suit, mischievous grin, curls tamed only slightly. He was doing fine, charming the press line like it was just another race weekend.

“Amelia!” Someone called. “Can we get a shot of the ring?”

She flinched.

Lando glanced sideways at her instantly. He didn’t answer the shout, didn’t pull her closer, didn’t make a big deal, just gently rotated his body, stepping into the line of fire, cutting off the view of her hand as subtly as breathing.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Too loud,” she said quickly. “Too fast. I can’t filter any of it.”

He gave a single nod. “Okay. One minute more, and then we’re inside. I’ll get you a drink, and we can sit. You can take your earbuds out of your purse if you want. Or we leave. Say the word.”

She didn’t say anything, just pressed her hand harder into his.

A woman in a gown made entirely of sequins called out, “Amelia! Congratulations on the Championship!”

Amelia blinked, slow. “Thanks.”

Lando gave her the smallest nudge, his thumb brushing hers, like a reminder that she didn’t owe anyone more than that. And Amelia… surprisingly, said nothing else. Just nodded once.

A few more photos. A few more questions, mostly aimed at Lando, who held her hand through it all.

Inside the venue, the noise was muffled. Lights were softer. Music thudded beneath the floor.

Lando led her to a table, his hand still resting low on her back, letting her settle before crouching down next to her chair. “You want me to skip presenting?”

She shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll be fine now. It was just the flashing. And the shouting. And that one guy who stepped on my toe.” She grimaced. 

He grinned. “You look cute when you’re mad.”

She gave him a flat glare. “I wasn’t mad. It hurt. He was heavy, and visibly overweight. He couldn’t—.”

He kissed her ring. “Okay, shush. No talking about how people are overweight, okay? That’s an inside thought.”

She glowered. “He stepped on my foot.” She argued. 

Lando laughed. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

—

Amelia had never been particularly interested in award shows. The noise, the rehearsed spontaneity, the endless clapping — it all felt overstimulating and fake. But she was here, in a dress that shimmered when the light caught it, seated at a quiet corner table near the back of the room, earbuds clenched in her fist. 

Lando was on stage.

Her eyes didn’t leave him.

He was reading from the teleprompter now, doing his bit between the two pop stars flanking him. Charming, slightly awkward, but trying hard not to fidget. His hand reached up once to run through his curls, a nervous tic she’d seen in debriefs and race week interviews a hundred times. She smiled.

“Bit young to be up there, isn’t he?” Someone at the next table whispered, not cruelly, just curious.

Amelia pursed her lips.

And then he was talking about her.

It was just a passing comment, part of a joke about his tux not being his idea — “You can thank my fiancée for this,” he said, and the crowd laughed — but it turned Amelia’s breath into something tight in her throat.

The word “fiancée” coming from Lando still made her ears buzz.

He looked so natural up there. A little boyish, a little charming, but confident. He didn’t overplay it, didn’t try too hard. Just stood straight and smiled through the chaos.

And when the camera cut briefly to her in the crowd, she could see herself on the big screen overhead, staring up at him with a look she hadn’t even realised she wore, it felt like the whole world was seeing it, too.

How much she loved him.

How proud she was.

How, despite the chaos and the cameras and the sound and the flash, she would sit through it all again, just to see the way he lit up when he got to do something like this. Something that made his world feel as wide as it was.

When Lando stepped offstage, disappearing into the wings, Amelia let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

He was always saying she was the impressive one. That she was the smart one, the one who had it all figured out.

He underestimated his own brilliance. 

—

It was well past midnight by the time they made it back to Max and Pietra’s flat, and the entire night had already started to feel like a distant fever dream.

Now, in the quiet warmth of the living room, things started to make sense again.

Lando was in grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Amelia had scrubbed off her makeup the second they walked through the door. She was wrapped in one of his hoodies, warm and perfumed with his aftershave, her hair damp from a quick shower. She was curled into the corner of the couch, her bare feet tucked under Lando’s thigh.

Pietra was spooning pasta straight from the pot. Max — her Max, the softer, goofier one, not Verstappen — was hunched next to her on the floor, picking the olives out of his bowl with surgical precision.

Love Island was playing on the TV, low volume with subtitles, just background noise really. None of them were truly paying attention, but every so often someone would react dramatically and the others would follow. 

“I’m sorry,” Lando said, through a mouthful of fusilli, “but Ron is absolutely going to kiss that girl and then lie about it.”

“Ron would lie about breathing if he thought it’d give him more screen time,” Amelia muttered, eyes half-lidded, chin resting on Lando’s shoulder.

Pietra pointed her fork at the screen. “Justice for Ella. She’s the only one with a single working brain cell.”

Max nodded solemnly. “I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs.”

Amelia laughed, soft and sleepy, the kind that buzzed against Lando’s collarbone. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head, like it was muscle memory.

“Is this what we do now?” She asked, tilting her face up to him. “Is this our life? Fancy award shows and then this?”

“Yup,” Lando said proudly, twirling his pasta. “This is the dream, babe.”

“It is kind of the dream,” Pietra agreed.

“It’s a lot more chaos than I’d have chosen,” Amelia murmured.

Max threw an olive at her. “You like our chaos.”

She caught it, flicked it back at him without looking, and it hit him square in the forehead.

Lando laughed, full and unrestrained. “God, I love you.”

The room went quiet for half a second. Then Pietra softly nudged Amelia’s foot with hers, grinning. “Disgusting.”

Amelia smiled. She let herself lean further into Lando, heart calm, mind settled. 

— 

The Red Bull Technology Campus was quiet in that specific, humming way it always was at odd hours — the whirr of servers, the low buzz of fluorescent lighting, the occasional muffled footstep on polished concrete. Amelia liked it like this. She could think.

She stood beside Adrian at one of the long tables in the design office, sleeves pushed up, fingertips hovering above the CFD printouts of the new RB18 side-pod concept. The paper still smelled faintly of toner.

“Other teams will be talking about this,” she said, tapping the edge of the schematic. “But it’s fully within regulation. Section 3.7.5 of the technical directive covers internal channeling—so long as it's not considered a movable aerodynamic device, which we’ve clearly proven it isn’t.”

Adrian gave one of his quiet smiles, more a twitch at the corner of his mouth than anything obvious. “You memorised the whole regulation manual over the winter break, didn’t you?”

Amelia didn’t look up. “I colour-coded it.”

He chuckled, a warm, almost paternal sound. “I believe you.”

They stood in silence for a moment longer, both of them studying the cooling profile of the undercut and how it flowed back to the floor. She knew what he was doing — this was the ritual, the unspoken challenge. The final review before a radical concept met the tarmac.

“You were on the red carpet last week,” Adrian said, casually.

That made her look up. “Briefly.”

“You looked very…” He trailed off, thinking. “Different.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “You’re used to seeing me with dark circles under my eyes and a wrench in my hand.”

Adrian smiled again. “You just looked very happy. That was good to see.”

She blinked at him, surprised. “I was,” she said eventually. “It was weird, and loud, and everyone wore too much fragrance. But I was happy to be there with Lando.”

He nodded, then gestured back to the design. “If this works in Barcelona the way we expect, that’ll give you something else to be happy about.”

She smiled. “It will work. Maybe… maybe there’s other components of the car I’m not so happy about, but…” She shrugged. 

“If we put together your dream car, it would be a rocket-ship,” he said dryly. 

She took a few steps back and run her finger over the edge of the side-pod blueprint. “They’ll be mad. Probably raise it with the FIA before testing even begins.” She guessed.

“Let them. While they’re complaining, we’ll be winning the championship.”

Sleek, aggressive, elegant. It was beautiful in the way only something painstaking and dangerous could be.

She smiled.

“Yeah,” she murmured. Back-to-back championships would be a nice way to end her time with Max. “We will be.”

— 

The news had just gone live. Every F1 social channel was ablaze with McLaren’s orange-and-blue graphics: Lando Norris signs with McLaren through 2025.

Lando tossed his phone facedown on the kitchen counter and turned to look at Amelia, who stood barefoot in the doorway, arms crossed loosely over her chest, watching him with that unreadable, slightly fond expression she reserved for moments like this — big moments that she was already half-analysing in her head.

“Say it,” he said, walking toward her. “Come on. Just once.”

She blinked up at him. “Say what?”

“That you’re proud of me.” He gave her a mock-wounded look. “I extended my contract, Amelia. Three more years. I made a sensible, adult decision.”

Amelia’s mouth twitched. “You did it mostly because you like the papaya team kit and you’re emotionally attached to your engineering crew.”

Lando grinned, not denying it. “True. But also because I believe in them. In us.” He reached for her hands. “In you. As if I’d ever consider leaving a team that I know you’re going to be running soon.”

Amelia looked down at their hands, then back up at him. Her voice was soft. “I am proud of you.”

“There it is,” he breathed dramatically, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I win.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t pull away. “You want your actual prize?”

He perked up. “You got me something?”

She reached behind the kitchen island and lifted a small, bright orange box with the McLaren logo embossed on it. Inside: a tiny teddy bear wearing an LN4 shirt. 

He stared at it. “It’s so cute.”

“I know,” she said. “I also convinced my dad to make them stop serving fish at the MTC. Like, fully. So. You’re welcome.” 

He laughed, full-bodied and unfiltered, and swept her into a hug. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair. 

She pressed her cheek against his chest. “Good.”

They stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the soft hum of their kitchen, the headlines buzzing just outside the door. He was staying. She was planning. And for once, everything felt perfectly in sync.

— 

Amelia stood alone at the back of the Red Bull garage as the final laps of the day ticked down. The sun was low over Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya, casting long shadows across the pit lane. Her iPad was in her hand, filled with split times and engine mapping data, but her mind was somewhere else, half in the numbers, half in the ache behind her eyes.

The side-pod had worked. Their new cooling configuration, her brainchild, if she were being honest, had exceeded expectations. The media didn’t know what to do with it yet. There’d been mutterings in the paddock, whispers of legality and grey areas, but Adrian had just smiled that quiet, knowing smile and said, “Let them talk.”

And Max? Max had been quick. Too quick, maybe, for this early. But she saw it in the data. The balance was close. The new aero philosophy was holding its ground. They’d come into 2022 ready for war.

But he hadn’t been the quickest. 

No, that title had gone to Lando. 

Later, her fiancé found her outside the circuit, still in his hoodie and slides, sunglasses pushed up into his curls. “Date night?” he asked, bright-eyed.

She blinked. “I smell like engine oil.”

“You always smell like engine oil. It’s part of your charm.”

The restaurant was a tucked-away spot in the Gothic Quarter. Lando had found it on Instagram, bored in a briefing. Amelia ordered for both of them in quiet, fluent Spanish, and the hostess gave her a warm smile and a complimentary dessert. Lando leaned across the table, grinning like she’d just performed magic. “That was so hot.”

“Ordering risotto was hot?”

“The Spanish,” he said. “The confidence. The little voice you do when you’re being polite. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever head. I— Yeah, I’m totally turned on right now.”

She kicked him under the table. 

After testing wrapped, they rented a villa in the hills for the weekend; a last breath before the storm of the season. Max and Celeste joined them on the second day. Celeste arrived in linen pants and oversized sunglasses, the very image of calm European glamour. She kissed Amelia twice on the cheek and said, “You look stunning.”

“Doesn’t she,” Lando agreed, pulling Amelia into his side.

But even in that villa, with its terracotta walls and olive trees outside the window, Amelia couldn’t fully power down. She sat by the pool in the afternoons, sketching cooling layouts on her iPad, earbuds in, humming low under her breath. Lando watched her sometimes, quiet and smiling, like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Celeste brought her spritzes and Max offered occasional input on tire wear models. It was ridiculous and warm and kind of perfect.

— 

March 2022 

The jet hummed steadily as it travelled from Europe to the Middle East, the soft cabin lights dimmed to a comfortable glow. Amelia was sitting sideways in her seat, one leg curled under her, talking animatedly with her hands while Charles stared at her like he was being held hostage.

“—so if you start your aero development from a high rake philosophy, you have to reconfigure your floor stiffness. Otherwise you get this nasty longitudinal instability on corner entry, especially in medium-speed turns. You know what I mean?”

Charles blinked. “Non.”

Amelia frowned. “Really? But Ferrari ran similar philosophy in—”

“I mean, yes, I technically understand you,” Charles said, smiling tightly, “but also, no. No, Amelia. I am just a driver. Please, I am begging you. I do not need to know all of these facts.”

Across the cabin, Lando snorted into his hoodie sleeve. He was lounging two rows behind, legs kicked out, headphones slung around his neck. “You good over there, Charles?”

Charles threw a hand up dramatically. “I am exhausted just from listening to how her brain works. How does she exist this way?”

“I’m just explaining rear downforce consistency—”

“You said the words longitudinal instability! That is not a casual conversation phrase, Amelia!” He argued. 

Lando grinned and leaned forward over the seat. “C’mere, baby. Why don’t you tell me how Oscar’s pre-season testing went?”

Like flipping a switch, Amelia’s head turned toward him, eyes bright. “Oh my God, he was so good. His tyre management’s already cleaner than half the grid—"

Charles let out a theatrical sigh of relief and collapsed into his seat. “Merci, Lando. Merci.”

Lando gave him a mock salute. “You're welcome, mate. I’ve had, like, three years to develop countermeasures.”

“Does she do this to you too?” He asked. 

“She once explained crankshaft thermal expansion to me during sex.” He said. He was smirking. 

“Mon Dieu.” Charles grimaced. 

Amelia didn’t even register it, she was still talking. “—and once he gets used to the car rotation speed in low-speed corners, I think his timings will be so much better, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” Lando said, grinning as he slid into the seat beside her. “Tell me more, baby.”

Charles gagged into his travel pillow.

— 

The heat was unbearable. The Middle Eastern races were a sensory nightmare, and Bahrain was one of the worst. The air was thick and heavy, like breathing through cloth. The desert sun scorched everything it touched, the paddock buzzed with noise, radios crackled in her ears, lights glared, and distractions came from every direction—her brain was in overdrive.

Then Max and Checo both DNF’d, and the noise got louder.

She was running on fumes. The temperature never let up. The cars screamed nonstop, the floodlights were blinding, and the food—too rich, too intense—sat heavy in her stomach.

Saudi Arabia was hotter still. Max’s strategy meeting dragged on, tense and complicated with the car’s aggressive setup. The race itself was chaos—Max clawed his way forward, wheel-to-wheel until the very end. He won, just barely, Charles less than half a second behind.

It was a victory. But it didn’t feel like one.

Back in the hotel room that evening after the race in Saudi, she sank onto the bed, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest. The hotel was pretty, all big rooms and expensive chandeliers, but all she felt was hollow and slightly claustrophobic. 

Lando flopped down next to her. “Another one of those days, huh?” he asked softly, stretching out on the bed beside her.

“Yeah,” Amelia murmured, closing her eyes for a moment. The flickering of the overhead lights seemed too sharp against her eyelids. She’d never really understood how other people could tune out all the chaos. “It’s so hot. I can’t escape it.”

“I know,” Lando replied. “Wanna get room service and take a cool shower?”

She smiled at him, her eyes still shut, the AC bringing her some comfort. “I’d love that. I don’t want to leave this room.”

He chuckled, leaning over and brushing her hair away from her face. “Okay, baby.” 

she curled against him, her fingers seeking the comfort of his touch. He didn’t say anything more. He just pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. The rhythm of his breathing slowed her own.

“Better now?” He asked, after a few moments of silence.

Amelia nodded, though she didn’t open her eyes. “Much.”

— 

iMessage – 10:45PM

Mark Webber Big day tomorrow 👀

Amelia It’s official then?

Mark Webber Yep. Oscar is officially a joint Alpine/McLaren reserve. Zak just signed off.

Amelia Good. More doors.

Mark Webber You’re sowing your seeds, Miss Brown.

Amelia This’ll just make it easier when the time comes. If Alpine dig in their heels, Oscar will have already been in contract with McLaren for months. 

Mark Webber Smart girl

Amelia I know.

Mark Webber I’m sick of Otmar already. Refusing to give us any straight answers. 

Amelia Fernando said the same thing

Mark Webber Lando okay with all this?

Amelia Of course. He’s Lando. Jealous for five minutes, then proud.

Mark Webber You picked a good one.

Amelia I know. 

Mark Webber I’ll keep you updated

— 

April 2022 

The little bakery tucked off Rue Grimaldi smelled like spun sugar and cinnamon. 

Amelia was already halfway through her iced matcha, perched in the corner at their usual table, wearing a cotton sundress and sunglasses that kept sliding down her nose. Lando had gone inside to order, almond croissant for her, pain au chocolat for him, and a couple of extra pastries they definitely didn’t need but always ordered anyway.

He returned with a grin and two paper bags, sliding into the seat across from her. “I told them not to warm yours up,” he said, handing over her croissant. “Because you don’t like gooey.”

“I don’t,” Amelia confirmed flatly, unwrapping the pastry. “The texture gets weird.”

“Right,” Lando said, biting into his. “How do we feel about the accent wall in the streaming room being that navy blue colour I showed you?”

“I hate it,” she told him.

“You didn’t hate it yesterday.” He complained. 

“Yesterday I hadn’t imagined how it would look under the LED strips.” She said, her lip curling. 

Lando groaned. “Babe.”

“I’m right.” 

“You’re opinionated.”

“I’m autistic.”

“Same thing.”

She giggled into her croissant.

He took a sip of his freshly squeezed orange juice and leaned back in his chair, squinting up at the sun. “Okay, new idea. We get that matte grey from the hallway for the main walls. Then black soundproof panelling on the back wall.”

“No, you’re soundproofing the whole room,” she said without even looking up.

Lando frowned. “Is that really necessary?”

She finally looked at him, eyebrow raised. “I do not want to be listening to you playing on Valorant at two o’clock in the morning.”

“…Right. Whole room.” He nodded. 

She nodded.

He shook his head, fighting a smile. “Remember, I’m back in London next weekend, Thursday to Tuesday. Quadrant’s shooting at Silverstone.”

“Sounds fun,” she said, brushing a flake of pastry off her skirt. “I’ll stay here. Oversee the decorating. Make sure the soundproofing goes in. And that the shelves are built level this time.”

“They were level.” He rolled his eyes. 

“They absolutely weren’t. I checked with a spirit level.”

He threw his head back dramatically. “Baby, please don’t terrorise the decorators with your spirit level again. They’ll refuse to ever come back.”

“You live with someone who needs things not to be crooked.” She informed him, appearing slightly embarrassed. 

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I live with someone who makes everything perfect.”

Amelia blinked. Softened. “You’re being sweet.”

“Only because I don’t want you to bully the decorators when I’m not here.”

She rolled her eyes, but let her thumb brush over his knuckles. The bakery buzzed around them — plates clinking, baristas calling out names, the Mediterranean sun painting the pavement golden.

—

Amelia had her yellow golfball in her hand, her eyes squarely set on the replays from free practice. There was always something to track, always something shifting. 

Jos was standing outside the hospitality suite, arms folded, sunglasses perched low on his nose. Amelia approached quietly, iPad under one arm, her MV1 shirt crisp in the morning light.

“Jos,” she greeted. He nodded once in acknowledgment.

“They’re faster than expected,” he said without preamble. “Ferrari.”

“Yep,” Amelia replied. “Top-line speed’s excellent. Aero efficiency’s strong, and they’re managing their tires better than projected. But we’ve got updates coming.”

Jos glanced sideways at her. “Barcelona?”

She shook her head. “Imola.”

He grunted. “Cutting it close.”

“I like a challenge.”

He gave a huff of amusement. “I know.”

She tapped her tablet, showing him a sketch of the new floor and side-pod configuration. “This’ll help mitigate the porpoising and give us cleaner airflow into the diffuser. I ran the numbers with Adrian yesterday — it’s barely legal, aggressive, but… it’ll work.”

Jos studied her for a long moment. “And Max?”

“He’s got the pace. We’ll give him the car to match it.” She shrugged. 

After she excused herself, Amelia wound her way through the back of the paddock, navigating behind the media pen and through the tight hospitality corridors until she found the Alpine motorhome. She stood outside for a moment, considering the entrance — and then slipped in without ceremony.

Oscar Piastri was leaning over a printed-out set of data. When he noticed her, he did a double-take. “Amelia?”

She smiled, subtle as she could possibly be. “Hello.”

He straightened quickly, a bit awkward in that endearing way of his. “Um—hi. What are you doing here?”

“Just… making the rounds,” she said. Then, a small nod. “Congratulations, by the way. On becoming McLaren-associated.”

Oscar blinked. “Oh—thanks! Yeah, it’s been a bit surreal. Double reserve, more chances to get out on track, I guess.”

“I’ve been following your sim data, your testing laps,” she added, like it was just a passing comment. “You’re adapting fast.”

He flushed slightly. “Trying my best.”

She gave a rare, tiny smile. “Keep doing that.”

Then she was gone again, leaving Oscar to stare after her with an astonished blink.

—

Amelia had just exited the Red Bull garage, iPad in one hand and stim toy in the other, when a trio of microphones were suddenly in her face.

“Amelia, can we get a comment on Red Bull’s lack of reliability in the early season?”

“Is it true you were seen going into Alpine’s motorhome yesterday? Are you considering switching teams?”

“Rumours are swirling about your next career move—care to confirm anything for us?”

She stiffened. Her sunglasses hid the instinctive panic, but her knuckles has gone white around her stim snake. They weren’t being aggressive exactly, but they were pushing in, leaning into her space, stacking questions rapid-fire without giving her a second to process.

“I’m not doing media today,” she said firmly, voice flat and clipped.

“Just one quote—”

“I said no!” She said, a little louder. 

But they didn’t back off. One cameraman stepped closer to frame the shot, bumping into her arm slightly, and her breath gt stuck in her throat and her shoulders started to curl up toward her ears. 

And then — “Ah, hey! Back off.” Charles was the first to appear, all soft curls and red team kit, stepping smoothly between Amelia and the cameras with that disarming Monegasque smile that somehow managed to be polite and threatening all at once. “She said no,” he repeated, and though his tone was light, his stance was not.

Behind him, Lando materialised from seemingly nowhere, slipping his hand around Amelia’s wrist and raising an unimpressed, slightly pissed-off eyebrows at the reporters. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

That earned a quick retreat of at least one mic.

“She is not public property,” Pierre added as he came to stand beside Charles, arms crossed, voice dry and unimpressed. “If you want a quote, you ask someone who wants to be asked.”

Mick trailed behind them with Zhou, both of whom offered quiet, present support, just bodies standing nearby, close enough to break the intensity of the circle that had formed around her. Mick gave her a small nod of reassurance.

The reporters, now very aware of the optics, half the grid forming a loose but definite protective arc around Amelia, finally relented and stepped back.

“Thanks,” Amelia murmured once they were gone.

Lando squeezed her wrist, eyes scanning her face. “You good, baby?”

“I’m fine,” she said, exhaling. “Just… wasn’t ready for all that.”

Charles tutted. “They are vultures. If they do anything like that in the future, just shout, yes? One of us will come.” 

— 

The morning sun filtered through the massive glass panels of the MTC, casting neat reflections across the polished floor. Amelia sat across from her father at one of the quieter corners of the cafeteria, legs folded underneath her in the booth seat, her coffee rapidly cooling next to a barely-touched muffin.

Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren Racing and wearer of many hats, was reading the Financial Times off his tablet with the easy calm of a man who’d had two espresso shots already. He looked up suddenly, over the rim of his glasses, and said casually, “So. Are you going to tell me the deal with Oscar?”

Amelia blinked. "What deal?"

Zak gave her a look. “Amelia.”

She sighed, poked at the edge of her muffin. “He’s going to be a McLaren driver.”

Zak blinked owlishly at her. “Amelia…”

“I’m going to bring him here.” She told him. 

He slowly set the tablet down. “Interesting. And when were you planning on mentioning to me—the team boss and CEO—that this was happening?”

She tilted her head, almost sheepishly, though mostly matter-of-fact. “I knew if I asked, you'd say yes. So I was just waiting for the right time.”

Zak just stared at her.

Amelia shrugged. “It’s Oscar. Once he gets through this season of Alpine purgatory, he’ll be ours. And when he’s in papaya… I’ll come back. Officially. I’ll build you a car that wins championships. I have the designs ready. I’ll be Oscar’s race engineer too.”

Zak was quiet for a long moment. He rubbed his hands over his face, then looked at her with the begrudging mix of fatherly exasperation and professional admiration he often wore when talking to her. “You’re impossible,” he muttered. “You are actively working for Max Verstappen. And you have a car designed for us?”

Amelia just nodded, sipping her lukewarm coffee.

He leaned back, exhaling in shock. “You’re supposed to ask me to give you a job, not tell me that you’re going to restructure my entire staff.” 

She shrugged. “It’ll make you win. Isn’t that all that matters?”

He sighed. “And what about Lando? What does he think about all of this?”

“We talked about it, obviously. He doesn’t need me in his ear. He has me at home. That’s the difference.”

Zak smiled slowly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll talk to Andrea, honey, and you know it’d be incredible to have you working for McLaren officially, but…” 

She cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. It’s useless. I’ll be here, and so will Oscar, and that’s how it’s going to be.”

He barked a laugh, shook his head, and gestured for the waiter. “I’ll need another coffee. It sounds like you’re planning a coup.”

Amelia giggled. 

— 

Max Fewtrell’s streaming camera was pointed at his gaming setup; Lando and Max shoulder to shoulder in their matching headsets, controllers in hand, squinting at the screen in total concentration. The Twitch chat was flying by at light speed, full of emojis and chaos, most of it delighting in the rare duo-stream. 

What made this stream a little different, though, what made it iconic, was the soft background chaos visible just beyond them. Behind the couch, nestled on a thick rug with pillows and snacks strewn everywhere, sat Amelia and Pietra cross-legged, utterly absorbed in a heated game of Monopoly. Amelia, in Lando’s oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, was sorting her money into piles with ruthless efficiency. Pietra had a mischievous glint in her eye, hand hovering over a stack of hotels.

“…I swear to god, if you put another hotel on Park Lane, I’m going to flip the board,” Amelia muttered, tone flat but somehow more threatening than if she’d yelled.

“Mi amor, it’s a legitimate investment strategy,” Pietra countered sweetly.

“Your strategy is financial terrorism.” Amelia grunted. 

Max glanced at them over his shoulder, grinning. “They’ve been at that for two hours, chat.”

Lando didn’t look away from the screen. “Yeah, she’s gonna break the board. It’s only a matter of time, guys. Don’t clip it. You’ll embarrass her.” 

“Oh my god, you two,” Pietra said, glancing toward the camera, “This is a very serious game, much more serious than whatever you are playing!”

Max snorted. “Agree to disagree.”

From the floor, Amelia said without looking up, volume slowly raising, “Pietra, you’re on my hotel. No, don’t roll the dice, you’re on my hotel!”

Twitch chat exploded.

PIETRA MONOPOLY CHEATER CONFIRMED STOP THIS IS SENDING ME  HELP Bro Lando rly said ‘She will break the board’ like he knows from experience lmaoooo

On the floor, Amelia made a crisp transaction. “That’s four thousand pounds. You can pay in instalments, but I will be charging interest.”

Pietra groaned. “You’re worse than the IMF.”

Lando was laughing now, head falling back, nearly dropping his controller. “Amelia, baby, I love you, but you’ve got the most brutal capitalism streak I’ve ever seen.”

“Only when fake money is involved,” she said coolly. 

Max leaned into his mic and said to chat, deadpan, “In case anyone was wondering, yes, I am also surprised that this game is still somehow going.” 

The stream lasted two hours.

It was clipped and shared all over social media, labeled things like “Max & Lando try to game while Amelia ruins friendships via Monopoly” and “Quadrant’s Chaos Double Date”. Fans latched onto every bit of domestic hilarity, from Lando stealing a bite of Amelia’s cookie mid-stream to Pietra declaring herself “a capitalist queen” while mortgaging Mayfair.

It was absurd. Intimate. Hilarious. And it felt like a glimpse into something real.

By the end of the night, Monopoly had ended in dramatic silence (Amelia had won, obviously), Max and Lando had finally clinched a sweaty victory on stream, and someone, probably Lando, had convinced them all to order spring rolls at 1 a.m.

—

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landonorris W few weeks

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ameliabrown fluffy hair i love that picture of you ❤️ by landonorris

landonorris love u baby

maxfewtrell Mate your barnet is a STATE

ameliabrown Shut up, Fewtrell 🔪

mclaren The cutest couple in the paddock🤩

user39 the pool pic. the amelia wrapped in a duvet pic. THE MATCHING BRACELETS?

user33 the amelia pic got me too..... she's so fucking cute and he's obviously SO IN LOVE

user18 everytime they post abt eachother im reminded how crazy it is that they're both 5 years younger than me and have established careers and are literally engaged i cant do this

—

Max sat in the cockpit of the RB18, gloves off, sweat clinging to his forehead despite the cool. Amelia stood beside him, one hand braced against the halo, the other flicking through telemetry sheets on her iPad.

“Can you tweak the steering calibration?” he asked, nodding toward the wheel. “Turn-in still feels a touch tight into Acque Minerali.”

Amelia nodded, thumbing in a few quick notes. “We’ll open the ratio a little between 60 and 120 degrees. Keep the weight where you like it, but you should get a bit more rotation without overworking your wrists.”

Max smiled faintly. “You’re so smart.”

She glanced at him, dry as ever. “I’m aware.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, settling deeper into the cockpit as mechanics moved around them.

There was a comfortable silence for a moment. Then, casually, as she tapped in a few last changes to the wheel settings, she said, “Lando and I are thinking about getting married. Maybe around Silverstone.”

Max blinked. “What?”

Amelia didn’t look up. “We haven’t picked a date. But we’ve been looking. The summer break is too packed with testing and prep for Spa, so… Silverstone makes the most sense.”

Max stared at her. “This year?”

She finally met his eyes. “Yeah.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling now. “That’s fast.”

“You don’t object though?”

“To the steering setup? No. Feels good.”

She huffed a laugh. “Max….”

“To the wedding,” Max added, voice softer. “Also no. I do think it’s fast—very fast—but then, that’s a pretty big part of our world, isn’t it?”

Her expression didn’t shift much, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—gratitude, maybe. “Thanks,” she said. “You’ll be invited.”

“Gee, thanks,” Max teased, sitting back and flicking a switch on the wheel. “If I’d known there was any concern over having a seat at the Norris wedding, I’d have written it into your contract.”

Amelia tilted her head. “I was always planning to invite you, obviously, but it’s not official until you get an invitation.”

Max tilted his head at her. “I bet you already have at least five invitation designs picked out.”

She pursed her lips and looked away. 

Outside, the rain began to fall again, soft and steady on the roof of the garage. Max fiddled with the wheel as Amelia double-checked her notes.

“Silverstone, huh,” he said after a moment. She nodded. “You nervous?” He asked. 

“No,” Amelia said honestly. “I want to be his next of kin as soon as possible. It makes sense.”

Max studied her, thoughtful. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

— 

Amelia sat alone on the small balcony outside the team hospitality, her iPad balanced on her lap, untouched. The rain had cleared, but the air was still heavy with mist, soft droplets clinging to the railings. Below, the paddock was beginning to wind down, freight being packed, media finishing up their final takes, voices quieter than they’d been all weekend.

Max had won.

It felt triumphant. A clean weekend, pole to flag, fastest lap. It was the kind of result that justified everything; the long hours, the endless data, the sleepless debriefs. The RB18 had been flawless. The side-pod gamble was proving worth it.

But still… Amelia felt the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that went beyond just being tired. It was emotional fatigue. Mental strain. A thousand variables she’d juggled, most of which no one would ever see. She wasn’t unhappy, far from it, but there was a muteness to the pride. 

She exhaled through her nose, fingers picking at the edge of her iPad case.

Max was in media. Lando had finished fifth, solid, reliable, but a far cry from what she knew he could be. She hadn’t seen him yet. Just a brief nod across the paddock, the flash of his helmet in parc fermé, a thumbs up from afar.

She wanted to hug him. To tell him that fifth was good, that fifth, with the shit-box of a car he had, was better than good.

And maybe, selfishly, she wanted him to tell her she’d done a good job too.

Behind her, someone called her name, softly, respectfully, but she move right away.

She was thinking about the championship. About Max’s lead. About Ferrari’s early season strength, and what it would take to keep beating them. About what was waiting in Miami. 

And for a moment, just one, she let herself think about Silverstone; not the race, but the chapel just outside of Glastonbury, which she’d only seen one time, but knew it was where she could see herself getting married. 

—

May 2022 

The music was loud. The bass thumped through the floor, reverberated up through the soles of Amelia’s heels, but her earplugs softened the edges. The lights were neon and overwhelming — but the dress was soft against her skin, and Lando's hand was warm and solid on her hip.

She wasn’t drunk, not really. Just lightheaded from the adrenaline, the heat of the Miami night, the dizzy joy of watching Lando laugh and dance, glowing from a solid qualifying.

They were packed into the middle of the club — Lando, Daniel, Pierre, and a few others — a messy, writhing group of drivers letting off steam. Amelia was tucked under Lando’s arm, swaying with him to some Latin remix pulsing through the air.

“You okay?” He asked, ducking down so his voice hit her over the beat.

She nodded, smiling. “I’m good.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Stop,” she said — not irritated, just amused. He never stopped saying it.

He didn’t. He kissed her instead, hands firm on her hips, and she laughed into his mouth.

They danced for hours. Bodies slick with sweat, her hair pulled back off her neck, Lando’s shirt half unbuttoned and clinging to his back. At one point, she swapped her heels for sneakers from the club's coat check. At another, he twirled her like they were at prom, and not in a nightclub.

By 2 a.m., they were both exhausted and dizzy like lovesick teenagers. Daniel shouted something about an afterparty, but Lando grabbed Amelia’s hand and shook his head.

“Nope,” he said. “I’ve got other plans.”

— 

They barely made it through the door.

Her back hit the wall, and Lando kissed her like he was starving. His hands were rough with need, but still gentle, one settling on her waist, the other cupping her jaw as he kissed her like she was something sacred.

Her dress slipped down her shoulders.

His shirt hit the floor.

It was just a little frantic. Warm. Familiar. Like gravity pulling them closer. He whispered her name when he pressed his forehead to hers.

She pulled him down to the bed.

And somewhere between the sound of the city outside and the rise of the Miami sun, they disappeared into each other completely.

— 

It happened fast.

Amelia wasn’t on comms for Lando, but she always had one ear tuned to his channel. Her tablet buzzed in her lap, live data scrolling, her focus split between Max’s telemetry and the multiple feeds in front of her.

And then suddenly; a yellow flag was shown in sector two.

She heard it before she saw it: the sharp bark of Lando’s voice over the radio, crackling with frustration, pain, impact. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Camera switch. Replay.

Gasly. A misjudged overtake. Lando clipped, turned, spun around. A flying wheel.

Virtual safety car. 

Her breath stopped. For a second, maybe longer, the paddock felt silent. The world narrowed. Just white noise and static and the pounding of her pulse.

He was out of the car. Slowly. Helmet still on. He waved. She exhaled so sharply she felt dizzy.

Still. That wasn’t enough.

She excused herself from the Red Bull pit wall with a wordless nod and a clenched jaw, already walking, already texting someone from McLaren’s medical liaison team. 

They didn’t let her into the medical unit for ten minutes. He was sitting on the bed, still in his race suit, fireproofs peeled down to his waist, a bruise already blooming across his shoulder, his curls damp with sweat and adrenaline.

He looked up and softened instantly. “Hey, baby.”

She didn’t say anything. Just crossed the room in three steps and wrapped herself around him. Tight. Too tight. Her arms around his neck, her face pressed into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” he murmured, hand rubbing her back.

“You could’ve not been,” she whispered. After a moment, she pulled back enough to look at him. Her fingers trembled as she reached up to touch his cheek. “We need to get married.”

Lando blinked, confused. “What?”

“Soon,” she said. “As soon as we can arrange it.” He studied her, reading the truth in her eyes — the vulnerability, the clarity. This wasn’t nerves or a whim. It was control. A way to make sense of a world where tomorrow was never promised.

His hand found hers. Squeezed. “Okay,” he said softly. “Then we will. As soon as you want.”

“Really?” She checked. 

“I’d marry you tomorrow in a Tesco car park if that’s what you wanted.” He told her. 

She gave a choked laugh. “Not Tesco.”

“Okay, fine. Waitrose.”

“Better.” She cracked a smile. 

He leaned forward and kissed her, gently, slowly. 

When they pulled apart, she glanced over her shoulder briefly before looking back at him and whispering, “The nurse doesn’t like me. She wouldn’t let me in here, even though I’m on your pre-approved list. I think we should have her fired.” 

Lando’s lips twitched, but God, she was so deadly serious, so he managed a nod and suppressed the urge to burst out laughing at the pure indignation on her face. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” 

— 

Their Monaco apartment was chaos. Controlled chaos, but chaos all the same.

Swatches of fabric were spread across the coffee table. A mood board with handwritten notes and clippings from bridal magazines sat balanced on the arm of the sofa. There were open tabs on Amelia’s laptop — five venues, four florists, and a document titled 'Ceremony Logistics: Sound, Seating & Sensory'. A printed-out Google calendar stuck to the wall with blue tack had been torn down and replaced three times that morning already.

Amelia stood barefoot in the middle of it all, wearing a sports bra and pair of leggings, a highlighter in one hand and her phone cradled between shoulder and ear. “No, I don’t want peonies,” she was saying sharply. “They’re pretty, but they’re uncontrollable. And they smell too strong—no, I—no, listen, lilies are fine. But white ones. Nothing dyed!”

Lando was on the sofa, half-wrapped in a throw blanket, trying to keep his eyes open as he scrolled half-heartedly through a list of DJs on her iPad. He wasn’t sure if he had a fever or if the apartment had just decided to become a sauna, but his skin felt tight and his throat had been sore since yesterday.

He sneezed.

Amelia, mid-call, snapped her fingers toward him and mouthed, “Bless you.”

He gave a thumbs up.

She hung up a moment later and dropped onto the sofa beside him, crossing her legs under herself and immediately launching into the her next focus. “Okay, so my dress fitting is next week, and then the invitations go out by—”

“Babe,” Lando croaked, barely above a whisper.

She blinked, mid-sentence. “What?”

“I love you,” he said, eyes squinting in that way she’d come to recognize as his version of ‘please don’t be mad, but I’m dying.’ “But I think I might be losing the will to live.”

Amelia paused. Really looked at him.

His curls were flat. His eyes glassy. His skin was a little pale, flushed around the cheeks. His voice? Wrecked. She frowned. “You’re sick.”

“No,” he said too quickly. “Just a bit run down. Fine. I’m fine.”

“Lando.” She said, unimpressed by his attempt. 

He coughed. A rasping one that came from deep in his chest.

She reached out and touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “You have a fever.”

“I just love you so much it’s giving me a temperature,” he joked weakly.

She didn’t laugh. Just climbed into his lap gently, settled her forehead against his. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged, closing his eyes. “You’re happy. Planning. You’ve got your little colour-coded lists and your spreadsheets and your anti-guest-scent policy. I didn’t wanna ruin it.”

Her heart pinched. She brushed her fingers through his curls, voice softening. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re my favourite part.”

He smiled, tired and a little loopy. “Even when I sound like Kermit the Frog?”

“Especially then.”

She kissed his temple, pressed her cheek to his. “Alright. Wedding planning on pause.”

He hummed. “For how long?”

“Until you’re back to yourself,” she said. She tucked the blanket tighter around him and reached for the remote. “Tea?”

“Chamomile?”

“You want sleepy tea in the middle of the day?” She teased.

“I want my tonsils to evaporate.”

Amelia nodded solemnly. “Okay. I can do the tea.”

As she moved around the kitchen, humming under her breath, Lando watched her with drooping eyelids and the softest kind of smile. Even sick, even overwhelmed, he knew one thing with absolute clarity — he’d marry her a thousand times over.

—

Lando shuffled into the bathroom, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, nose red, throat raw. He was just looking for toothpaste. That was it. Just toothpaste.

What he found instead was the object sitting innocently on the counter: white plastic, digital screen, slim body. Rectangular. Familiar. Terrifying.

A pregnancy test.

He froze.

His brain clicked into overdrive.

‘No. No, we’ve been careful. Haven’t we? Wait, maybe not that one time in Miami, but that was— Oh my god. Oh my god. She's been more tired lately. And weird about food. And I’m sick — what if she’s sick too, but not with a cold?—‘

He blinked down at the object, heart thudding.

It lit up.

Lando screeched.

Without thinking, he jumped away from it like it was radioactive. His pulse was in his ears. His fevered brain was already building a nursery in his head. He was googling prenatal vitamins in his mind. He was buying a Volvo. He was calling Zak to ask for paternity leave and then apologise for knocking up his only daughter.

He was— He was—

The front door clicked open.

“Lando?” Amelia’s voice echoed through the apartment. “I got your antibiotics. And some cough syrup. They only had the cherry flavour, sorry.”

He burst out of the bathroom. “Stay away from me!” He pointed at her.

She blinked. Stopped. “What?”

“I don’t want the baby getting sick!” He said, suddenly extremely defensive, halfway between panicked and protective. “You shouldn’t be carrying heavy bags either! And you shouldn’t be walking around in this heat—wait, did you eat? You need to be eating properly, and we need to call a doctor—wait, did you see a doctor? How long have you known?”

Amelia stared at him, completely blank. “…What baby?”

Lando gestured wildly toward the bathroom. “The baby from the pregnancy test!”

Amelia squinted, took two slow steps toward the bathroom, peered in. And then started snorted. “Oh my god,” she said, “you mean the thermometer?” She asked. He blinked. She walked in, pulled the digital thermometer off the counter and held it up. “The thing I used this morning to check your temperature for the doctor?”

Lando looked from her to the object and back. “…Oh.”

She was wide-eyed, staring at him. “You freaked out over a thermometer.”

“I was mentally preparing to raise a child,” he mumbled, half-offended, half-relieved.

“A nonexistent child,” she said, handing him his antibiotics. “You should’ve seen your face. Funny.” She giggled a little. 

He took the blister pack sheepishly. “I think I’m still feverish.”

Amelia made a face. “Sure, we’ll blame the fever.”

He tugged her gently into a hug. “So no baby?”

“No baby,” she confirmed. 

He exhaled dramatically. “Well, now I feel kind of disappointed.”

“Lando.” She frowned at him. 

“…Eventually,” he corrected, kissing her forehead. “Like, in five years. When you’ve had time to design a pram with a DRS button.”

She snorted. “Shut up. Take your medicine.”

He popped the pill, made a face. “Ew.”

“Use water, Lando!” 

— 

The bathroom tiles were cold under Amelia’s feet. She was sat on the closed toilet lid, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, phone clenched between her fingers.

She stared at the pregnancy test box on the counter. It sat there like a challenge. Or maybe a joke. A very unfunny one.

She hit the call button.

Pietra answered on the third ring, already squinting. “Did you eat lunch?”

Amelia didn’t answer that. Instead, she blurted, “I think I might be pregnant.”

There was a beat. Then Pietra leaned back in her chair, blinked once, twice. “Do you want me to freak out with you?”

Amelia exhaled. “I don’t think I am. I don’t know. I… I’m probably not. I’m just— spiralling. A bit.”

“Okay. Spiral gently,” Pietra said. “What made you think it?”

“Lando freaked out over the thermometer,” Amelia admitted. “Thought it was a test. Got all serious. Protective. Said he didn’t want to get the baby sick. There’s no baby. But then I started thinking—what if?”

Pietra was already opening FaceTime. Amelia accepted the call and was met with Pietra’s patient, knowing eyes. “Are you late?”

“No,” Amelia said. “But I thought my boobs felt weird. But I also had too much salt yesterday, so maybe that’s it? And I thought I was nauseous but it was just the smell of the weird cheese Jon had Lando put on his pizza last night.”

Pietra smiled gently. “So you’re inventing symptoms.”

“Yes,” Amelia mumbled. “I’m hyper-fixating. I know I am. But now I can’t stop.”

“Well,” Pietra said, “we’re going to need to see it through, then.”

“I already bought the test,” Amelia admitted. “It’s like… right there.”

Pietra nodded, her voice soft. “I’m right here. Take it.”

The test took five minutes to give a result after she’d peed on it. Amelia paced the bathroom the entire time, muttering about hormone levels and false negatives and how she hadn’t even finished building the new simulator yet, and how could she possibly begin Oscar’s championship preparation if she had a baby on her hip.

When the timer beeped, she turned the stick over.

Negative.

She exhaled, sharp and tight. And then, to her own surprise—tears pricked at her eyes.

Pietra saw it happen in real time, through the screen. “Oh, honey…”

“I’m not upset,” Amelia said quickly, swiping at her face. “I’m not—I didn’t want it to be positive. Not really. I’m not ready. We’re not ready. But… I don’t know. I’m crying. I think I’m relieved. But also—”

“You’re sad,” Pietra finished for her. “And that’s okay. You want it, Amelia. Of course you do. But it’s okay to not get everything you want right away.”

Amelia sat back down, sniffling. “I think… I want it someday. I didn’t even know that about myself. But now it’s there and I can’t un-know it.”

Pietra smiled gently, resting her chin on her hand. “That’s how it starts. One ‘what if’ and suddenly your heart is a bit bigger than it was yesterday.”

Amelia looked down at the negative test. “I’m glad it’s not now.”

“Then it’s the right result,” Pietra said. 

They sat in silence for a while. Pietra waited until Amelia’s breathing calmed, until her shoulders dropped from around her ears. Then she grinned. “Want to watch something dumb and distract yourself?”

Amelia nodded. “Please. No babies. No weddings. No surprise pregnancies.”

“I’m putting on The Grand Tour.”

“Ugh, so much worse.”

Pietra laughed. 

— 

They finally had something to celebrate. 

Amelia was sat on the pit wall steps, headset still around her neck, the red imprint from the ear-pads marking her cheeks. The Spanish sun was going soft with late afternoon light, golden and hazy. Her eyes followed Max through the crowd; he was somewhere between smug and exhausted, hugging the engineers one by one, helmet tucked under his arm.

He’d earned this one.

“Ferrari almost had us at the start of the season,” Amelia said quietly, almost to herself. “But I think we might have won out with these new upgrades.”

Adrian nodded. “We’re quicker over the distance. And Max—Max is relentless when he has a point to prove.”

She nodded. Smiled. “He is.”

The race had started out tense. Charles had pole. Max’s DRS had been temperamental all weekend, the kind of small gremlin that could derail a championship effort in the early stages. But Charles’ engine had given up on lap 27, and Max had kept pushing—team orders and all. The one-two with Checo sealed it. It wasn’t just a win.

It was a statement.

Max was, once again, the championship leader. Eleven points clear of Charles now.

Amelia stood slowly, body tired but blood still buzzing from the win. She glanced back once toward the Red Bull garage before walking out toward the paddock.

Max caught her eye through the crowd, grinned with that glinting, boyish confidence. She gave him a cheesy grin in return. She didn’t need to say anything.

He already knew.

—

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landonorris you are the most beautiful girl in the world i dont understand how ur mine

user62 does he have her post notifications on because brother is ALWAYS the first comment jfc

pietra.pilao BEAUTIFUL GIRL. I NEED YOUR WARDROBE ❤️ by ameliabrown

maxverstappen1 What a great memory!

ameliabrown Many gin tonics for the championship leader

user53 ok own up to it. who showed amelia the instagram filter button

—

June 2022 

Baku was brutal.

Straight-line speed ruled the weekend, and the Red Bull's superior DRS efficiency gave Max the edge Amelia had quietly hoped for, though the porpoising issue across the grid was now impossible to ignore. Ferrari’s reliability crumbled in spectacular fashion, both Leclerc and Sainz retiring due to engine issues. 

Amelia spent most of Sunday hunched over telemetry graphs and searching for tire degradation patterns in the data. Max drove flawlessly, no unnecessary inputs, no late braking where it wasn’t earned. Just clean, mechanical dominance. She loved it.

In the hotel room that night, Lando sat on the floor, surrounded by colour swatches and lighting samples for the wedding reception tent while Amelia talked about marzipan roses and 3D-printed miniature diffuser centrepieces. He didn’t understand a single one, but he was happy.

He also very gently asked if they could maybe not have a gearbox motif on the wedding cake.

She ignored him.

— 

Canada was damp and delicate. The rain had come early in the weekend, turning FP1 into nothing more than a data scrub and giving Amelia a migraine from the constant argument over full wets or inters.

Ferrari’s pace returned, but their strategy floundered, because of course it did.

Lando’s McLaren struggled with top-end performance; not enough power on the straights, and not enough downforce through Turn 10 to make up for it. Amelia scribbled a few notes in her personal notebook, airflow direction at the rear wing junction was still too chaotic, and added them to her "Future Oscar Setup" binder.

Max won. Barely. Carlos had been on his tail for the last ten laps. But it was enough.

The wedding planner sent Amelia a text about flower availability mid-qualifying, and she replied with a 14-item bullet point list between timing sectors. Later that night, back in the hotel, she realised she'd colour-coded the seating chart using FIA compound codes (white = hard family, yellow = medium friends, red = soft VIPs), and Lando nearly died laughing.

“Why are you like this?” He said, still giggling as she shoved a pen behind her ear.

Amelia just shrugged, already halfway through redesigning the table centrepieces to match the McLaren heritage livery.

— 

Amelia stirred her iced coffee once, twice. Didn’t drink it. Her hair was still slightly damp from the rain. Across from her, Mark Webber leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on his head instead of his nose; that told her everything. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks.

“Alpine still thinks they have him locked in,” he said. His voice was low, even. “They’re pushing a narrative that doesn't match the contracts.”

Amelia didn’t flinch. “And McLaren?”

“Waiting. Quietly. Playing the long game, just like you said.” He studied her face. “How long have you been planning this?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Since Abu Dhabi 2020.” Her mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “I knew if Oscar was even half the driver I thought he was, it’d be worth it. And it turns out he’s more.”

Mark nodded once, slowly. “You always did have good taste in underdogs.”

“I’m marrying one,” she said dryly.

Mark laughed, the tension in his shoulders loosening for half a second. “Touche.”

There was a pause. Amelia finally sipped her coffee, it had gone warm.

“They’re going to fight us on this,” he said. “Hard.”

“I know,” Amelia replied. “But Oscar isn’t theirs. Not really. You and I both know it. They’ve kept him on ice too long. And if they push… I’ll make noise.”

Mark raised a brow. “Since when do you do noise?”

She gave him a look. “I do precision noise. Controlled chaos. Just enough to shake the right cages.”

Another beat.

“Zak knows?” Mark asked.

“I told him what was going to be happening,” she said. “But when the time comes, I’ll give him the whole picture. And he’ll want it too. Oscar. The car. The future. Me.”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “It’s a good thing Oscar’s worth it.”

“I know he is,” Amelia said. “And I’m going to be there when he proves it.”

[mediumgayitalian]

The funniest thing about the whole ordeal is that he sits by the window, mooning.

Like a Victorian maiden.

"Stop teasing," Cass scolds, visibly choking back laughter. "He's -- little."

"He's down bad facetious," Lee argues. He gestures to Will's feet, which are -- and he cannot emphasize enough -- swinging back and forth. He even --

Gods.

He is twirling his hair.

Cass lets a bubble of laughter through, clamping her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my gods," she says, shoulders shaking. "It's so cute, I'm gonna --"

Will sighs to himself. Deep, long, lovesick; it takes everything in Lee's body not to join Cass on the floor, holding himself to limit the shaking. She keeps her head carefully bowed but even then Lee can see the tears streaming down her face.

"Goober," Lee calls, tongue in his cheek, "what the hell are you doing."

Will startles. He goes, quite immediately, startlingly, pomegranate red, sliding a worn journal against his chest and out of sight. Only, he misses, because he's a klutz, and launches the journal halfway across the cabin, narrowly avoiding smacking Cass clean across the face.

For a moment, there is nothing.

Stillness.

Silence.

Lee glances over at the journal. Will holds his breath. Lee moves his hand, ever so slightly.

They bolt at the same time.

"Nothing!" Will shouts, diving for the book. He is, unfortunately, a pipsqueak, and easily lifted to the side and dropped, screeching and clawing, on Michael's top bunk. "Nothing, nothing, I'm doing nothing --"

"If you're doing nothing, then it's fine if I look," reasons Lee, knowing that if he kept a diary and any of his rat ass siblings tried looking through it he'd kill himself. "Just blank pages, right?"

Will lunges, but Lee is stronger than he is, and his arms are longer. He plants a hand on his squishy face and holds him there, struggling, arms scrabbling for the journal, Cass's wheezing echoing through the largely empty cabin.

"Cass! Tell him -- tell him to give it back --"

Cass looks up, maybe, to tell him off, but she sees Will's squished, roan face and loses her shit all over again. This time she doesn't even bother staying on her knees, she hits the full, total ground, clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her face, choking in agony.

Lee flips open the book.

Will screams.

"Dearly beloved," Lee reads, voice trembling. Will claws at him. In what is, perhaps, divine intervention, the scratch marks disappear as quickly as Will makes them, glowing a soft gold. Will screams again. "We are gathered here today --"

There is laughter, and arguing, outside, and Lee pauses. Will stops struggling. His face drops. He whips toward the window, faster than Lee can even think of stopping him, and brings his clasped hands to his face, head bowed, and begins rapidly to pray:

"Dad, please, if you love me, smite them all, please, do not let them come in, turn off their ears, please, I promise I will scrape off every brownie I get for the next fifty years if you --"

But it is for naught. Because in a great, energized gaggle, the rest of their siblings pile through the door: Michael, scrabbling at Diana's flexed arm, flailing his way out her head headlock; Kate and Pheobe, heads bent over a script; Melody, Mercury, and Leanna, harmonizing over Michael's cursing; Gabriel and Laurel, tossing a basketball back and forth; and, finally, Amir, trailing quietly behind them, bow in hand.

They spill out onto the giant carpet by the door, and pause.

Lee clears his throat.

"--to celebrate the union of --" His voice wavers. Will shrieks, lunging again, but Kate in Phoebe are faster, lunging forward and grabbing one arm each.

"Oh, no you don't," says Kate, grinning, and Phoebe, unusually bold, pokes his ribs until he stops squirming, snickering to herself.

Lee continues.

"-- Nico di Angelo and Will Solace, in the sight of -- oh for fuck's sake, capital-G God -- to join them in holy matrimony."

Will puts his pudgy little hands over his face and yells. He begins, ever so, to glow, like he does when he's healing, and it is the perfect moment to set everyone off: several of their siblings join Cass on the floor, who, at this point, looks genuinely unwell, and several more -- mostly the girls -- rush forward to hang off Michael's bunk, cooing at poor Will, who glares at Lee with all the vitriol his ten-and-three-quarters body can muster.

"I hate you," he croaks. "You are -- the worst brother ever --"

"I'm just trying to have it memorized," Lee says solemnly, "you know, so I can recite and when you and Nico get --"

There is a quick, painful flash. For a moment, Lee is genuinely blind -- his eyes are open, he can feel the air of them on his drying sclera, but he can see nothing but pure, white light -- and it takes a solid minute of blinking to get anything back in front of him, even if it's blurry.

The first thing he sees is Will, off the bunk, with the journal in his hands.

The second thing he sees is Amir, quick and quiet, poised behind him.

"I don't even like him," Will says hotly, "I'm just -- did you know that there are friendship marriages, and --"

Lee meets Amir's eyes and nods. The curve of his oft-stoic mouth incites genuinely glee in Lee's wicked heart, and in a flash their third youngest darts out his deft pianist hands and grabs the journal from Will's hands. Before Will can even shriek, he tosses it across the room, where Laurel catches it, and she sprints across the cabin, scurrying up the wooden support beams, and hangs from the highest rafter. She flips through the pages and opens a new one.

"Oh-hoo-hoo, this one is good," she says evilly, wiggling her fingers. "He even got all the letters right, ahem, Mr. Will di Angelo --"

Will is short, but he's fast and he's slippery, so he's out of Kate's attempted half-Nelson in seconds and ripping across the cabin, spider-monkeying up the beam. Laurel shrieks and tosses the journal to the waiting Gabriel, who slides himself in the spot between his bunk and the wall and flips to a new page.

"It's a drawing!" he reports, delighted. "Aw, man, he even got the shine of his hair on here --"

"All of you hate me!"

"It's cute," Leanna coos, scooping Will up from the ceiling. Laurel damn near cries in relief, dropping down and muttering about evil, punishing little brothers and pointy fingers. Will tries to squirm free but Leanna presses a million exaggerated kisses to his cheeks, to his hair, and on reflex, he leans into them. "Baby's first real crush --"

"I do not have a crush on him!" Will squirms free, eventually, standing on his own -- unmade -- bunk and hollering until his face is read. "I just think he's -- cool, okay, he can control zombies and ghosts and --"

"'Makes your heart flutter?'" Melody suggests. She holds up the journal Gabriel has passed to her and traces her hand over an older page, tapping her electric-blue nails. She clears her throat, upping up her own slight drawl to match Will's heavier one: "'Symptoms: sweaty palms, dizziness, rapid heartbeat, high fever -- potential tachycardia? Or plague. Revisit next appearance.'" She closes the book and grins. "Think you're a touch ahead of yourself, kiddo."

Will, as he always does, chafes at the nickname, snapping a reflexive you're four years older than me! Not even! and crawling under his bed. Belatedly, an arm scrabbles up on his mattress, patting blindly until it makes contact with his pillow -- crumpled into the corner under half a metric ton of stuffed toys -- and drags it down with him, screeching into it.

"All I ever do in this stupid cabin is suffer," he bemoans.

Their siblings, for the large part, ignore his wallowing. More interesting is the journal, that they circle around, flipping through the various drawings and doodles of Nico di Angelo, enigma, and the hearts around every strand of hair.

Lee starts feeling a little bad.

A little.

"Dork," he says, peeking under the bed. Will kicks him. Lee grabs his foot. "Come out."

Will pouts. "No."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Obviously!"

Lee looks down and sighs. He is eighteen, and feeling every year; his knees, actually, have wear equivalent to that of a seventy-year-old man. Michael checked. Michael could, also, have been lying, because he's a tool, but there was a particular gleam of unbridled glee in his eyes when he reported back so Lee is inclined to believe him.

All this to say: he is too old for this nonsense.

And, yet.

"You have not been sweeping under here," he grumbles, pulling a face at the (numerous) dust bunnies. "You have, like, two chores."

"I have so!"

Will coughs.

Lee sighs and holds out his hand. Will's throat is, indeed, closing up, so he fires off a quick hymn to lower the swelling but leaves it itchy in penance.

"I don't know why you continue to lie to me. Your tell can literally, actually kill you."

Will opens his mouth to lie again. Lee pokes him, hard, in the stomach, and he closes it, choosing instead to scowl.

"Get out of here," he complains. "You smell like dookie and I hate you also."

"I do -- I do not!"

Just in case, Lee sniffs, and he -- well, he doesn't smell like roses, but dookie is an exaggeration and after a moment the little shithead snickers, dodging Lee's pinching fingers. Lee rolls his eyes and scoots closer, crushing him against the wall.

"We're not trying to embarrass you," he tries.

Will scoffs. "Lie!"

"Okay, well, we are a little." Lee turns over and stares until Will meets his eyes. He is relieved to find no genuine hurt in them, only annoyance, and maybe a touch of frustration. He searches for Will's hand and squeezes, holding tighter when someone in the peanut gallery cackles, and Will scowls. "But, like. Embarrassment of love and affection."

"That's not a thing!"

"It is. You know how Diana likes to put a curse of truth on Michael and ask him leading questions about his weird love for Orlando Bloom in public?"

"That's different," Will says after a pause. "Diana only does it to punish him for his crimes."

"Of which there are many," Lee agrees. "But it is the same concept."

"But I'm not evil like Michael!"

"No? It wasn't you and Cecil that rigged Jake Mason's birthday cake to explode last week?"

Will's mouth opens. It closes.

"I will speak no further without an attorney," he decides on, and Lee laughs out loud. Will grins, forgetting his anger, and leans in when Lee curls into him, snorting. Lee presses a kiss to his hair and tugs him even closer.

"We are teasing you because we love you and you are being a massive goofball," he says quietly. He squeezes when he feels Will scowl. "You tease me for crushes and foolishness too, brat. You're just suffering because it's your first time."

"I don't have a crush on him," Will insists, muffled. "...I just think he's cool."

"Right. And all the drawings --"

"Anatomy practice!"

"--and the poems--"

"I can't control those! They just come out!"

"--and the marriage vows --"

"I -- okay. That one -- gimme a second." Will screws up is face, considering. He brightens when the idea comes to him. Lee snorts. "Connor and Travis were telling us about levying the marriage system to benefit you and I think Nico would be a willing participant."

Will beams, proud at his quick thinking, and Lee cannot help but try to crush him a little. Will, used to it, sighs and grumbles and tucks himself smaller so he can fit into the shape of Lee's arms, tights against his chest.

"You -- are -- so goddamn cute, you know that?" Lee says, punctuating every word with a loving poke. "Gods."

Will squirms. "Everyone keeps telling me that. That's why I'm studying Nico. So I can get cooler."

"You're studying Death Boy because you have a big fat embarrassing crush on him."

"No."

"Yes, and it's ridiculous, because you've met him, maybe, twice."

"I have met him three and a half times."

"I don't know what a half is and I'm afraid to ask. Kid, you're whipped."

Will tips his head to rest on Lee's shoulder, groaning. He stays there long enough for the wheezing, riff-raff, and general mischief to quiet, for some of the most hyperactive kids in camp to get bored and move on, poking at another available sibling. Will stays there long enough, breathing heavy, eyes squeezed shut that Lee hears Cass humming as she makes her rounds, tucking in the younger kids, who insist that they are too old for such nonsense but allow it anyway, and brushing her gentle hands on the foreheads of the older kids. She comes to Will's bunk last, kneeling outside of it, matching her breathing to theirs.

"All good?" she whispers, hand coming out to squeeze Lee's shoulder.

Lee nods. "Yeah. Tired out."

He can hear the smile in his sister's voice. "Okay. Don't fall asleep down there, Lee. You'll ache in the morning."

"Won't," Lee promises, knowing full well it's a possibility. Cass snorts, squeezing again, and Lee hears he pad away, pulling back her unreasonable number of comforters -- for a child of the sun god she is always freezing -- and floating off a final night, fireflies.

Lee smiles as all thirteen of them -- including Will, who mouths it silently against Lee's shoulder -- wish her goodnight back.

"I don't." Will makes a quiet, keening noise. "I don't understand why my chest feels so big."

Lee buries his face in coily, tangled hair, breathing deeply.

"You got a big, giant heart," he murmurs. "And Nico needs a friend. I think you, uh, I think you might also have a thing for brown eyes and basket cases, but that's none of my business."

Will giggles tiredly. Lee smiles, holding them close and scooching them gently out from the dusty underbed. His knees, as he correctly assumed, scream when he stands, but Will's little hand is warm in his, and his eyes are cloudy and soft. He is ten years old and too big for it but he reaches his hands up and Lee lifts him, anyway, exhaling at the wrap of his legs and arms around him, at the shift of his head in the crook of his neck. He takes a minute to hold the weight of him, memorizing, before leaning down and easing him onto the softened mattress, tucking the creased, messy sheets around him the way he likes.

"Sweet dreams," he says softly, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead. He grins. "Of wedding bells, and death-breath smooches."

"Go away."

Will pushes him, scowling sleepily, and Lee lets him, smoothing out his pillow and yawning his way over to his own bunk. He flicks Michael awake in passing just to be a jackass and dives into the bottom mattress, before he realizes, wrapping himself in his blanket and pretending to snore. When Michael has re-settled, muttering mutinously to himself, Lee opens his eyes, squinting over to where Will is curled up, across the cabin, blankets pulled up to his forehead and feet sticking out the other end. He smiles.

He can't wait to bring this up at their wedding, one day.

[buckybabble]

The Void

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader 

Summary: Bucky Barnes rescues you from the Void after you are sucked into your worst traumas.

Word count: 1140

Warnings: torture, hydra capture, trauma, Thunderbolts SPOILERS contained! 

Tags: @icybarness @inloveallthetime

I DO NOT consent for my work to be used by others or for AI. 

ONE MORE WARNING - THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

The first thing you noticed was the cold grimy stone floor underneath your hands. You landed on your front once you entered the Void. You hadn’t thought twice before following Yelena into the darkness. That’s what heroes did, right? You knew she wouldn’t just give up and you were right. She was your friend and you weren’t just leaving her to solve this mess on her own. But what fresh hell was this? 

“Please, I don’t know any more information about Barnes,” someone croaked from behind you. Their voice was raw from screaming. Their voice was yours. The hairs on the back of your neck rose. 

“No,” you murmured, springing up from the floor and taking in your surroundings. A cold cell with a metal chair in the middle. A younger version of yourself sat within that chair, sweat glistening on her forehead. Wrists bound to the chair arms. A week's worth of grime covered your face. You knew the scene all too well. S.H.I.E.L.D had sent you to investigate one of HYDRA’s activities and eliminate it. They were still obsessed with human augmentation, weaponising another person. It wasn’t an easy job, but achievable. Or so you’d thought. Sam had said it would help Bucky. You two had been dating for a little over 6 months. Had the perfect date night and a lazy breakfast before he was off to battle the government and you were off to the ‘gym’. You were supposed to be back in a week. Supposed to return and apologise and finally tell Bucky you loved him. Instead, it had looked like you would never get the chance to say those three small yet large words. 

A single tear tracked down your cheek as you groaned. Your cheeks were puffy, they’d already removed your wisdom teeth. This meant you were close to the end. Close to the pain which haunted your dreams. 

The doctor who entered was as familiar to you as your own palms. Shorn black hair and a septum piercing. Dark brown eyes which did not seem to reflect light. “Ah, Miss S/N, I’m glad you’re awake. No one is coming to save you,” the doctor whispered in your ear. “Hail.” She inserted the needle into your arm. “HYDRA.”

You knew as you watched yourself thrash and scream that the serum running through your veins was pure agony. That in that moment all you wanted was the sweet bliss of nothingness. This moment still haunted your dreams—woke you screaming and sweating. Your super soldier limbs sometimes smashed whatever was close by: bedside table, the bed frame. Watching this moment as an outsider was even more agony. The way your veins popped in your eyes, the metal dug into your wrists. All hope sagged from your shoulders as you lost shards of yourself never to retrieve again. 

“Please, I don’t know any more information about Barnes,” you croaked again. The scene reverted back to the beginning. 

You raced across the room, holding your other self’s cheeks in your hands. “Y/N, I promise you, this is not forever. They cannot break you.” 

Your old self whimpered, barely able to keep her eyes open.

“Doll, hey,” Bucky’s voice was a caress in the darkness behind you. You’d started seeing hallucinations after the first week of torture. From hunger, thirst, pain or isolation, you did not know. 

“Ah, Miss S/N, I’m glad you’re awake.” And so the cycle started again. 

“No, leave her alone!” You screamed going to punch the doctor. 

The doctor grabbed your shoulder and shoved you to the floor. Right in front of a pair of black boots. You reached out with a shaking hand and touched the boot. It was real, whole. It was Bucky. You collapsed with a sob.

“Bucky, you’re–this–are we…” You gulped down air. “Is this real?” 

Bucky reached down and grabbed your forearms, hoisting you off the floor in one fluid motion. “Doll, breathe. I’m here. I’ve got you.” You launched into his arms, relishing in the warmth of his body against yours. “I’m so sorry you had to see that all again,” he murmured into your hair, rubbing gentle circles into your back. “You’re safe. I’m here. I’m real.”

“I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye,” you sobbed into his shirt.

“We’ve more than made up for that.” Bucky kissed the top of your head. “We need to go, Y/N.” He stepped back from you and assessed your condition with those beautiful blue eyes. “Doll, can you run?” 

You nodded once. 

“Please, I don’t know any more information about Barnes,” you croaked again. The words broke your heart.

This time when the doctor walked in Bucky stepped away from you and grabbed the doctor’s throat. “I will never be able to punish you enough for what you did to Y/N.” And with that he crushed the doctor’s throat. 

The scene rapidly disintegrated into something new, something worse. You stood in the middle of a street. Cars crashed around you. People lay injured. And you were in the centre of it, guns in your hands. Ready to kill the target in front of you. Ready to kill Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky stood behind you gripping your waist as you watched the scene unfurl.

The Bucky in front of you wore all leather, a grimace maring his perfect features. “Y/N, this isn’t you. I know this isn’t you.”

The HYDRA corrupted version of yourself merely chuckled, clicking your neck.

“I won’t hurt you.” Bucky threw down his guns, crossing his arms. 

“Then you die.” You pulled the triggers so easily and watched unflinching as they pierced his chest. 

“NO!” You screamed from the side watching as Bucky fell. You traced the wounds on his chest every night since. Kissed them with the weight of your guilt. 

The real Bucky behind you pulled you tighter to him. “You know I lived, doll.” Bucky spun you around and held your face in his hands. His left hand was cold against your cheek but comforting all the same. 

“I almost killed you, it missed your heart by half a millimetre, James,” you murmured, wincing at the sound of gunshots sounding behind you again. 

“And I’m still convinced you purposely missed, doll.” Bucky smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. 

You looked to your feet, knowing somewhere deep inside that you must have purposely missed as you had never missed before.

“You never gave up on me,” you whispered, placing your hands over his. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl, could I?” Bucky pulled you closer, weaving his hand through your hair. “I love you, Y/N. I’ll follow you anywhere.” Bucky pulled back from you and pressed a tender kiss to your lips as the void fell away. 

[000000-000000-000000]

I would love to see your headcanons for who's the most to least likely to sub for their partner! Whatever characters of your choice <3

hii!! this was honestly so fun to write :P these lowkey are kind of like a scenario split into hcs, idk why but that's just how my brain decided to go about it lol.

they're in order from most to least likely to sub :P also the prompt i worked with as a base for these is basically the reader bringing it up to them while in a relationship. i found it worked better than just writing who would do it voluntarily (because they wouldn't i'm afraid 💀). also also, gn partner!

enjoy!! <3

Creepypasta Submissive Headcanons (NSFW)

CW: dom/sub dynamics, a bit of brat taming?, degradation, a bit of bondage, spit, orgasm control/edging, dubcon at the end, oral (giving and receiving for both the characters and the reader), slight mention of trauma but nothing explicit

BEN Drowned

모 sex with him is generally you centric because he's always geeked off that grass and uses that as an excuse to be lazy and lay back while you ride his face and use his dick—he gets off anyway, so might as well let you do the work under the pretense of "Yeah babe you can use me, empowerment or whatever."

모 so when you bring up domming him, he doesn't even think twice about it. goes into it thinking it's just regular sex but on steroids. not because he's blind to what it means—he's been inside the internet, he's seen shit—but because it's you. and what will you do.

모 there would be a tiny brat-dom dynamic by default because, yeah he's down for whatever you bring up, but he cannot take it fully seriously. kind of difficult to do that when you're baked like a pastry.

모 you want him to address you with a superior nickname? "yes ma'am/sir/master" but he's rolling his eyes and sporting a shit eating grin the entire time because he thinks it's comical.

모 you demand that he doesn't jerk off unless you tell him to? definitely does it when he's nose deep between your legs just to see what you do about it. "What?? It's muscle memory babe, don't pretend it's not hot."

모 genuinely huffing and puffing if you tied his hands behind his back and edged him as punishment. talking shit up until the point he's twitching and rutting in the air when you stop touching him. then it's:

"Holy shit, OKAY I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, just— babe-master, I'm getting dick cramps, come on,"

모 refuses to beg for about 10 seconds total. the moment you tease him again, "Ohhh my fucking god, please fuck me, please, I can't take this anymore, PLEASE make me cum".

모 balls deep inside you and choking on mindless thanks, making these broken, indignant whines if you told him to slow down.

모 all in all, however, he would be into it more than he expected. it doesn't become default freaky time because he does not have that kind of energy, but when it happens again, he'd lay off the brattiness.

모 aftercare is basically non-existent. he doesn't need it, he would just spark up again and hop on the game, but if you felt like you needed it, it would be more quality time than cuddles.

Toby Rodgers

𓌏 he's lowkey a closeted switch disguised as a feral fuck machine so when you bring it up he gets lowkey defensive, he feels CLOCKED.

𓌏 "What, s-so I don't fuh-fuck you good? That it?" "Is this a con-control thing? You want a-an excuse t-to bully me?" full 7 stages of grief like huh?

𓌏 eventually agrees grudgingly which, in other words, means he was fiending for this shit forever but he never surpassed preteen emotional maturity. so, coming to terms with being bossed around was a project in erosion (thanks Slender).

𓌏 he's acting like a stray dog at first, defenses up so high that you have to break character and remind him it's still just you and if he doesn't like something he can just tell you. didn't even establish a safe word because you thought this was going to fail from the start.

𓌏 it takes approximately 5 minutes of you easing him into it with gentle authority assertion until he melts and starts begging, just like that. you're half-way into calling him a good boy for making eye contact when you asked, and he's already whining.

𓌏 you specifically avoid degradation because you don't wanna push it. however, "Are you gonna be a good boy and stay still while I suck you off?" is exactly the moment where the puzzle pieces fall into place for him.

𓌏 "Yes, I'll— f-fuck I'll be the b-best fucking slut f-for you, please," oh okay. i thought we were— alright??

𓌏 barely a decent slut for you, canNOT stay still, but he tries. kind of. hips thrusting up too excitedly, cockhead ramming so hard in the back of your throat that you basically feel the bruise forming in real time. "S-shit, fuck, I'm sorry— I-I'm sorry, it's a t-tic, please d-don't stop." lies.

𓌏 quickly discovers he likes begging with his mouth full. your fingers, your underwear, you, anything. choking on messy “pl-please, c’n I cum, I’ll be g-good, I swear", so needy you would confuse his pleas for the begging of his victims.

𓌏 hot take or not, slight mommy/daddy kink. obvious reasons.

𓌏 so obnoxiously loud when you start degrading him. "You're that much of a worthless mutt? You can't even take what I give you and you're expecting me to let you cum?" groaning, whining, eyes glassy and mouth snarling like he's in pain, voice cracking when you have a hand around his throat, or a foot on his chest.

𓌏 when you finally let him cum, he sobs actual tears. voice breaking and wheezing from how begging in guttural groans scratched his throat the entire time. spit dripping down his neck from the gash in his cheek. whole body convulsing and tics flaring up like crazy. you can barely even hear the thanks he whispers breathlessly.

𓌏 so quick to clean his cum out of you if you asked.

𓌏 aftercare consists of him completely limp on top of you while you detangle his sweaty hair, muttering little praises in his ear, which he petulantly grunts away like you didn't just reduce him to whimpering mush.

Eyeless Jack

⚉ he's a predator by nature, so subbing isn't exactly something that's ever crossed his mind. but the thing with Jack is, he doesn't just do relationships. if you're partners, you're really fucking special to him, and by proxy he would jump into it just because he's devoted. so, your answer would be a short, certain "...Alright."

⚉ he's surprisingly a very good sport about it. the second you put your hand on his chest and push him down, he goes easy. obedient. no passive aggressiveness, no brattiness, no "I could flip this on you so quick". he just watches you from where he's propped up on his elbows with this unreadable expression like he's waiting for you to take him apart and it doesn’t even bruise his pride.

⚉ doesn’t beg, doesn’t whimper, doesn’t plead. but the second you tell him to stay still and open his mouth, he does. you’ll straddle his chest and he just tilts his head back, mouth parting obediently, waiting for your fingers, your taste, anything.

⚉ he'll sit and take whatever you give him, answers everything with short, respectful answers like it's something sacred. "You like being used, big boy?" "Yes, ma'am/sir." the only sign he’s into it is how fucking hard he gets from just serving you.

⚉ at one point you slap his hand away when he tries to jerk off without permission and he just freezes. like a dog being told to stay. stares at you with wide sockets and says, “...Apologies.” voice low, like it’s actually sincere.

⚉ takes edging mostly unphased, only grunting when you stop to watch his leaking cock twitch helplessly on his stomach. the restraint is borderline terrifying. HOWEVER, by the 5th, 6th time, he's panting, thighs shaking, hips thrusting in the air purely out of instinct.

⚉ you tie his wrists behind his back just for fun, and the moment you straddle him, his whole body tenses like a loaded weapon. he doesn't dare move until you tell him to. when you finally lean back and put your hands on his knees for leverage while riding him—bouncing, relentless—he jerks his hands against the ties, teeth bared in a hiss.

⚉ doesn't need praise, didn't react to it the entire time, but the moment you start huffing out little "so big, so obedient, such a good fucking toy for me" while he's balls deep inside you, his chest ruptures with a growl.

⚉ the only real, shaken reaction you'll get out of him is when you give him permission to cum. chokes on a growl, snarls "yes, fuck yes, yes—" through gritted teeth and starts pistoning into you from below.

⚉ doesn't need aftercare, but he just lays there with you like he’s resting after a blood ritual. no words. no movement. you curl into him and he shifts just enough to wrap an arm around your waist. breathes in slow, reverent, like he’d let you kill him if you wanted.

Brian Thomas

☹ bringing it up to him in a conversation would go south quickly. sex with him generally feels impersonal and more like a vessel for frustration, regardless of how long you have been together. letting his guard down is off the table.

☹ unless you manage to sneak it into the rare instance where he's allowing himself to relax just enough to soften a bit. where he kisses you slowly while stroking your back under the covers and his body succumbs to your gentleness, instead of crashing his mouth into yours with clenched teeth and shoving his hand in your underwear like fucking you as urgently as possible would take the weight off his shoulders.

☹ starting slow would be the best course of action. gently guiding his face to the side to drag your lips down his neck, feeling him through his shirt while whispering into his skin. "Relax, let me take care of you", "Let me take these off, baby", "Lift your hips for me."

☹ looks at you with these wary eyes and parted lips like he's so torn. but he lets you. lets you undress him, lets you get on top of him to kiss down his chest, down his stomach. lets you lick up his shaft instead of grabbing your hair and guiding you to take him in your mouth right off the bat. even fights himself to keep still and not rush you when you start teasing him.

☹ "So good for me, baby" while stroking from the base up and licking around his tip? he whimpers. genuine, meek, like that's enough to crack him open.

☹ hands will eventually fly to your hair on instinct. you'll grab his wrists and set them down back at his sides, not forcing them down but just holding your hands over them to remind. he wouldn't squirm, but he would tense. and "be a good boy for me and i'll give you what you want, okay?" is enough to get him biting his lip and breathe harder.

☹ the more you give, the more he gives back like it's natural. you take him deeper, relax your throat and let his cock slide down slowly, he groans so deep you can barely hear the "fffuck yes, thank you," but it's there. small and new and unsure, but coming out without resistance.

☹ praise, for anything and everything, and he melts into a puddle of breathy moans and shaking thighs. "Look at you, you look so fucking good on your knees for me" and his eyes would roll back in a muffled whine.

☹ surprisingly self controlled when you tell him just how to fuck you, but he's panting in your ear like it's painful not to pound into you when you keep him moving slowly. "F-fuck, you're so tight, please, just a bit... just— let me fuck you proper, please."

☹ does NOT take edging easily. crumbling by the second time he starts getting close, bucking up into your hand and sweating bullets.

☹ looks damaged when you let him cum. eyes wide, brows pinched together tightly, mouth wide open and slack and nothing coming out, like you punched the air out of his lungs.

☹ aftercare is silent and sticky with tight hugs and noses buried in each other's shoulders. won't say it out loud in a million years, but it felt cathartic.

Tim Wright

⦻ takes a LOT of convincing, a lot of reasoning, you even almost resort to making a google slideshow for him. however, it's clear from the get go he's not fully opposed to it with the way he's smirking every time you start your "hear me out" rant. he just wants to watch you reason with him just to fuck with you a little. mind games™

⦻ agrees EVENTUALLY. and he's deceptively composed when he gets on his knees for you. deceptive little grin when you spread your legs and pull him in. something's wrong.

⦻ "Tim." "What?? I'm on my knees, no? Ain't you supposed to call me a good boy?" before he dives in with his entire mouth right away. latches on and sucks like he's trying to prove something.

⦻ "Hm? Easier? Should've specified." "Maybe you should get rougher with me so I listen. C'mon, you wanted this, do I have to teach you?"

⦻ you do get rougher. yank him off you by the hair, hold him there and jerk his head while you scold him. he just looks up at you with low eyes and a sharp, toothy grin, like he's completely unphased by the sting but loving you getting riled up.

⦻ makes a show of jacking off after you specifically demanded that he doesn't, moaning a little extra when you slap his hand off his dick. "Shit, yeah, punish me baby, I've been sooo bad. Maybe you should tie me up too."

⦻ ends up cuffed for maybe 5 minutes while you alternate between fisting his cock and slapping it, before he somehow he ends up out of the restraint—maybe he slipped his hands out because you didn't want to be cruel by tying them too tight and giving him rope burn on his wrists, maybe he just undid the knot while you were focused on keeping him on the edge. either way, you end up yanked on top of him mid "petulant fucking manwhore".

⦻ "Come on, is that it? You're giving up that easy?" gives you no chance whatsoever to stop him from shoving inside you from below. it quickly morphs into thrashing for who fucks who, half him sloppily thrusting into you, half you wrapping both hands around his neck and bouncing on his dick while snarling.

⦻ a mess of spit. yours in his mouth, his on your chest, wetting the sheets, somehow in your hair. he looks like he's thriving while you're genuinely frustrated that he flipped it on you.

⦻ "Tim, come on—!" "Come on? Oh, you want me to cum on you? Fuck, ain't you gonna make me beg for it first?" mockery on 100% even though his voice is shaking by the unforgiving way he just slams into you, just challenging you to keep talking, keep trying, keep failing.

⦻ ruined orgasm. you haul yourself up right when he's starting to grunt low and breathless in his throat, over and over like he does when he's close. actually gasps when he starts pulsating and throbbing angry spurts on his own stomach, cock spasming frustrated and his expression so shocked, like you were the traitor.

⦻ no aftercare, only because he's moping that it felt like shit. you're so proud, and underneath all that huffing and puffing, he is too. silently.

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ ...right.

꒷꒦ so, you bring it up to him one night, soft and careful and fully aware of how stupid of an idea this is. hands cold, eyes on the floor, voice so meek and shaky he actually goes "HUH?" 3 times before you actually spit it out.

"Have you, um... thought about, like... letting me be the one in charge...? Like, when we fuck?" instant regret.

꒷꒦ he barks at you. genuinely cackling, eyes bugging a little extra, like that was just so hilarious. you're already backpedaling because you know you should've just kept this in the vault and jerked off to it in private instead.

"You wanna dom me? Hilarious babe, fucking hysterical."

꒷꒦ flips it so fucking fast, you don't even have time to open your mouth before he's on you. hand on your throat so tight you can feel your pulse in your temples, eyes sharp and manic and pinning you down. "You wanna sit on my dick and boss me around? Are you out of your fucking mind, bitch?"

꒷꒦ shoves you down at his feet so you fall face down next to his shoes. yanks you up by the hair and slams his crotch into your face, keeping you there until you're clawing at his legs for air. fucks your throat raw like he's trying to shut you up forever, pinches your nose when you start choking as if to punish you for even conjuring up the thought of flipping the dynamic. "Dominant little whore can't take a fucking blowjob?"

꒷꒦ fucks you like he's correcting you, no prep, no lube (unless you count the spit from your mouth already on his dick). ass up, face pushed in the pillows by his foot on the back of your head.

꒷꒦ "You need to have the stupid fucked outta you? Huh? Say you're stupid. Say 'that was the stupidest shit I done ever said in my life'." "I'm— I'm sorry, I—" "Say it or I'll fucking beat it out of you."

꒷꒦ you do not bring it up again. or maybe you do.

[lala-blahblah]

Hello, I am going to analyze your psyche about what your favorite version of Narumitsu/Wrightworth says about you and give you personalized therapy advice (JOKE!! This is a lighthearted fun jest and I don't really think everybody falls in these categories. So we are all going to be polite to eachother ok!!)

Elementary school aged Nick and Miles: If this is your favorite ship, you're really into the nineties/y2k aesthetic and you miss going to blockbuster. Also you are feeling untethered and like the last time things made sense was when you were young. You want to imagine that if you could turn back time and do things differently, you could stay blissful and happy forever. But you have this creeping feeling that no matter what you do, time is going to keep passing and you will lose touch with people and think of things you wish you could've said but never had a chance to and this is just going to be an endless cycle for the rest of forever. Some of that is true, yes. The best you can do is be honest with the people you know now about how much you care about them so that they can hold that with them always, no matter what happens.

pre-AA1/Feenie x Bratworth: If this is your favorite ship you are in college or most likely high school. The idea that you could find someone in school and them end up being your soulmate for life is really tender and special to you (because you are in high school and you would like to be loved Right Now Please because facing the change of adulthood without someone who loves you by your side scares you). You also find it difficult to care about adults and their adult problems (because you are in highschool) and honestly? That's so valid. Enjoy your time not thinking about them bc one day it will be all you think about. I fear that if you put too much pressure on yourself about finding the perfect relationship, you will miss out on the ephemeral joy of being with another person. Please give yourself grace and try to live in the moment.

Ace Attorney main trilogy Phoenix and Edgeworth: if this is your favorite ship, Edgeworth is your favorite character and you are really invested in his character arc and want to see it tied up neatly with him letting someone into his life. You like your stories to end with "And they all lived happily ever after", because you like the thought that things happen for a reason, and that if you care enough and try hard enough you can fix things. You probably like to think this because your own life has difficulties and you want to escape them for a little while. Things really do get better, but there are some things you may never get closure on. I am sorry, I know it's hard and it hurts. I am sending you my love

Seven year gap beanix and umm glasses edgeworth? (what is his nickname?): Ok even though this is one time period this actually falls into two parties. People either like this because of Phoenix being a new father to Trucy OR they like it because of Nick and Kristoph's toxic situationship love triangle, which is so deeply funny bc these groups have totally different vibes. So let's split these up:

Dad Phoenix: Phoenix is your favorite character and you want to see him suffer so that he can be cared for by Edgeworth for once. You also like seeing Phoenix do his best to love and care for Trucy despite the circumstances even though he isn't a perfect dad. It means a lot to you to see someone fail and still be loved and deemed worthy by someone. Did you perhaps experience gifted kid burnout in school and feel like you let everyone around you down? Be kind to yourself and examine how capitalism has shaped our worldview so that a "valuable" member of society is someone who holds a job of a certain caliber and earns a certain amount of money. We cannot all be held to the same standards. Do what you are able to do in your situation. Maybe that is fight for people in court. Maybe that is make music or art. Maybe that is being there for people you love. The world needs all of these things, but every person does not need to do it all.

Situationship Phoenix: Phoenix is your favorite character and you think he is owed a little sexiness after being denied love by everyone else in his life. You also want to punish Edgeworth a little bit, like you definitely have some beef against Edgeworth (understandable, although I love him he is frequently annoying) and making him jealous feels like you're serving justice on Phoenix's behalf. You probably lie awake at night and think about the sick comebacks you wish you had said to people who were jerks to you in the past. This very emotionally driven form of serving justice to these characters means that you too would have gotten your badge taken away if you were an attorney. You should probably examine the way you hold grudges and how you treat people you believe have wronged you.

Apollo justice games era Phoenix and Edgeworth: Ok I haven't played all of apollo justice yet I can't tell if there are different eras within Apollo justice, but probably if you like to imagine Nick and Miles are actively dating/flirting during the events of the first Apollo Justice game, you are living in denial that the events of the 7 year gap happened and you are sticking your fingers in your ear and going LALALALA I can't hear youuuu. You also think dads are kind of hot. You probably dislike running errands alone and prefer to have a buddy go with you. You have a small group of friends that you are really close with and you are secretly terrified of the thought of them leaving you. Pain is inevitable, and you must learn to accept this, but know also that joy is just as inevitable. You are stronger than you think.

Post Apollo Justice Phoenix and Edgeworth: If this is your favorite ship, you want everyone to be able to rest. You want to wrap up all the lawyers and everyone they love in a big blanket and let them all take a cozy nap together. You want all the drama to be done so that they can move in together and raise a child together and propose to each other and plan a wedding and be very sweet and kind to each other. Despite your best efforts, I sense that the expected social norms of a nuclear family structure are influencing your life choices. This is not a bad thing, to want these things! But does hitting these life milestones feel genuinely good, or good because you are achieving a goal and gaining approval from others? Close your eyes and imagine moments where you have felt joy. Make a pact with yourself to try and seek out these things more, regardless of whether they are what society expects of you.

[laursdomain]

Hi, I was wondering if you are thinking of doing the fw bf headcanon for Liam?

liam mairi as your boyfriend...

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader

genre: fluff & smut

synopsis: sfw & nsfw boyfriend headcanons for our golden boy

warnings: nsfw, 18+, mdni, smut, yk the drill

ྀིliam mairi masterlist

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sfw 𐦍

Protector. We all know Liam is a natural protector, he protected Violet until his very last breath. Expect the same, but ten times more intense when it comes to you. Even though he always listens to Xaden, the minute you are endangered he is abandoning his post, doing whatever possible to help you. He knows you can handle yourself, which leads to him restraining himself during challenges until he feels like you need to tap out. He doesn't care how much it bothers you, he'll never let anyone or anything harm what's most important to him.

Acts of Service. Liam's love language is 100% acts of service, he loves doing such little things for you. His personal favorite is carving a wooden version of your dragon just because, a wooden statue of yourself and him on your anniversary, and don't forget the wooden flower he carved and painted when you were feeling down. Your personal favorite is when he does domestic acts of service, such as laying out your clothes for you before you get up for the day.

Kisses. Liam's kisses are always soft. He has this perfect gentleness to him, and his gentle kisses always leave you chasing his lips, demanding he gives you more. He kisses you with such love and adoration, as if you are his entire world and he wants to show that to you every time he kisses you.

Touch. Similar to his kisses, his touch is always gentle and soft. His hand on your waist or thigh is always gentle, like he's grounding you. His own way of telling you here's there. The way he gently caresses wherever his hand is reassures you in ways you cannot describe, his actions constantly grounding you no matter what situation you find yourself in.

Jealousy. Liam never gets jealous. Annoyed that someone has your attention that isn't him? That's what gets him. You know how he works to a T, and he knows exactly what game you are playing when you laugh a little too much at one of Ridoc's jokes, feeling your boyfriend tense at the unnecessary attention you give your squadmate. Rest assured, he makes sure you know your place later on.

Priority. According to Xaden, Violet is Liam's number one priority. According to Liam, you overrule that statement. You have a deep understanding on why Violet is practically guarded by Liam. In fact, you help guard her as well, especially in times when it makes sense for a woman to be there rather than a man. Though, you know the moment you need Liam, he's giving his position to Bodhi, Ridoc, or Sawyer as he rushes to your side. Even if you don't tell him you could use his presence or comfort, he simply knows. This man lives for you.

Cuddling. Liam is a human furnace. Literally. His favorite thing to do after a long day for either himself or you, or both, is dragging you to your shared room, and cuddling you for the rest of the day, promptly missing dinner and staying there until the following morning. Liam can't help it, your presence heals him in ways he can't explain. These moments are his favorite, laying in the solace of your room, hushed voices and giggles being heard from you as you recount your day to him. Even if no words are spoken, that is more than enough for Liam as he soaks up the feeling of your body against his, committing the feeling of your presence to memory.

Family. Liam is a family man, that much is known. He'll constantly tell you stories of Sloane, always reassuring you that she will love you. When you do meet Sloane, she is a little combative at first--it's in her nature. The minute she does warm up to you, starting seeing you like her future sister-in-law, it nearly makes you burst into tears. Liam is practically Xaden's brother, and even though Xaden doesn't show emotion to anyone but Violet, he approves of you. He protects you like he protects the marked ones, because to him--you are one of them.

𖤓 nsfw

Dominant. Liam is definitely the dominant one in the bedroom, but in comparison to Xaden and Garrick, he's always gentle with you. He takes his sweet time, making sure everything he does for you or with you is absolutely perfect. The way he handles you with such care yet still giving the perfect amount of pleasure shows how much he truly loves you, and isn't having sex with you just because he wants to. He's also the type of person to say he's making love to you.

Pillow princess. You best believe you are his pillow princess. He thrives to pleasure you. Even though you always try to return the favor after he gives you such an amazing orgasm with his fingers, he'll slap your hand away. "Let me do all the work, baby," he'll whisper into your ear, easing you onto your back as he kisses up your body, waiting for you to fully come down from your high.

Oral. While some of the other FW boys prefer tongue over fingers when it comes to giving oral, Liam is definitely a fingers guy. More specifically, he'll use his non-dominant hand, sinking his index and middle finger into your wet hole. The way you clench around those fingers and the sounds that come from your mouth could make him come on the spot, especially when it's his relic-clad fingers that make you reach multiple orgasms. He has become accustomed to the way everyone else views his rebellion relic with such disgust, but the way he is able to pull orgasm after orgasm from you with those fingers mesmerizes Liam in a way he doesn't fully understand--but he loves it too much to stop.

Praise. Liam is constantly praising you in the bedroom. Especially when you're being his pillow princess, he can't help but praise how good you're being for him while he pleasures you and only you. And on the few instances when you convince him to let you ride him, the only coherent sentences coming out of his mouth that aren't his own moans are "you look so beautiful, baby."

Positions. Liam is all about the moment, not what you're doing. As long as he can see you and look into your eyes as he thrusts into you, bringing you both to your intense orgasms, that's all that matters to him. He's always open to trying new things, especially the interesting positions that you come up with in your pretty little head--but as long as he can see your face, that's all that matters to Liam.

Marking. Liam loves marking you up. He's very much outward about his relationship with you, and never hesitates at finding a moment to make it abundantly clear to everyone in the quadrant. His favorite spot to mark you up is the sweet spot on your neck, your squadmates claim that mark refuses to go away--but what they don't know is that Liam remarks it every time it nearly fades. Aside from the spot on your neck, he loves biting your inner thighs before going down on you.

Jealousy. If Liam is jealous, he never lets that dictate how he pleases you. He'll still keep his same gentle demeanor, though his dirty talk will get more intense. You always love riling him up, knowing the words that'll come out of his mouth when you two are alone make it all worth it. Liam will sink his relic-clad fingers inside of you, never getting tired of the way you gasp around him, aching for this exact moment all day. Flashes of the way you laughed too much at Ridoc's jokes during breakfast resurfaces, thrusting his fingers deeper than usual, curling around your gummy walls. Louder moans come from your mouth, and your eyes instantly snap to Liam's when he sinks his teeth in your inner thigh, not breaking eye contact with you. "You're mine, sweetheart," he soothes over the mark with his tongue before continuing his ministrations, quickly bringing you to your orgasm.

Aftercare. Liam's aftercare is even gentler than when he's pleasuring you. Once you've both come, he'll stay inside you as he soothes down your hair, softly humming to you as he waits for you to fully come down from your high. "There's my girl," he'll murmur once you open your eyes, softly smiling at him. He'll gently remove himself from you, leaving soft kisses along your cheeks apologetically. He'll quickly get a wet rag, returning to you as he kneels on the floor, leaving a kiss on both your inner thighs where he had bitten you, taking great care in cleaning you up. Once he's satisfied with it, he's putting his shirt on you, pulling you into his arms as he hums a song to you, watching as you slowly drift off to sleep with a soft smile on your face. Once you're finally asleep, Liam allows himself to sleep as well, the last thing he sees before it's lights out is your beautiful face.

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[air--so--sweet]

Okay so I will always enjoy Ryan Guzman with facial hair, it's a shame he plays a firefighter and so has to shave honestly, but that's not the point of this post.

That beard was hella intentional. Because in a TV show where you shoot out of order facial hair has to be kept consistent to prevent continuity errors. I was going to include an example of just how wrong this can go from episode 3x06 of Criminal Minds when David Rossi shaves and then in the very next shot he strokes his magically regrown beard. However, hilariously, when I went to screen record this, the version streaming on Disney had the shaving scene removed! (His beard still disappears and reappears throughout the entire episode though). My point still stands - for Eddie to have facial hair for that scene is very intentional.

It made me think back to his conversation with Father Brian in 8x06, specifically 'You want to know why I grew this? Because LAFD doesn't allow beards, too flammable.' Which, it's true, firefighters aren't allowed beards, but there's also the doble entendre of a beard referring to a fake partner used by a closeted queer person to further hide their sexuality. Eddie also tells the priest he grew facial hair as a disguise, so he doesn't have to see himself in the mirror, because he would see a failure, who doesn't deserve forgiveness or joy.

Eddie is feeling guilty over not being there at the lab with his team and with Bobby, he believes he failed them. He believes he's undeserving of joy once again. The scene with the priest also had Eddie choosing water over juice as part of his self inflicted punishment, with juice signifying joy and water the deprivation of joy (sidenote: Anyone else notice that juice was front and centre twice this episode? First in the scene between Buck and Maddie and secondly when Athena and the kids had breakfast together).

And then next week we have an episode called Don't Drink the Water and a promo with the line 'flaming water in their closets'. flaming water in their closets. FLAMING water in their CLOSETS.

He might not he back with the 118 yet but you cannot convince me we're not getting gay Eddie very very soon.

Especially as we've been told we'll see Maddie giving birth this season and in the same episode as Eddie's discussion with the priest Maddie tells Chim she's pregnant and says to him 'Give this a chance be what it is - joy.' I think either next week or in the finale (probably the finale) seeing the Han's welcome their joy into the world Eddie's going to decide to embrace his in the form of admitting his love for Buck (manifesting him grabbing Buck by the arm in the hospital, dragging him round a corner and kissing him senseless...would also mirror Buck accidentally coming out at the Madney wedding by kissing Tommy and getting soot on his face and this show loves parallels).

There's also an earthquake in there so maybe Buck tells him he loves him in a moment of peril, Eddie (gay) panics and doesn't say it back or he does but Buck thinks it was only because of the danger and Eddie doesn't really feel that way, (because he's a renter straight), but after seeing Madney's joy Eddie decides to make his feelings clear to Buck.

Also, while I'm here might as well throw in another theory, similar to Jee Yun having a name that means good luck which is related to the themes of the episode she was born in, baby boy Han will have a name that means joy. I am calling it now.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Wednesday lovely Fandom/readers :) I cannot believe we are in the final 3 episodes. If it think on it too much makes me sad. So let's not dwell on that. lol This episode did not disappoint in the least. End to end it was so good. Said this time and time again but it's a theme this year. So proud of this show for returning to it's roots. What I mean by that is the entire show being so damn good along with Chenford SL's. The ensemble side of it is running on all cylinders. Not an easy thing to do 7 seasons in.

I'm not saying I didn't enjoy or the last couple years years. I adored them to no end. Don't get me wrong. Was in absolute Chenford heaven and some non ones I loved too. But it's nice to have the show as a whole be fantastic. Week in and week out for the most part again. Each SL having purpose and keeping me engaged. Writers just brought it this year and then some. Continue to see why this is Eric's fav season yet.

It's become mine as well. Seth's return was as impactful and good as I was expecting it to be. Can't explain enough how proud I am of this show. Makes me emotional tbh. Day one girl over here so it just hits me sometimes, how excited I am to see us thrive. The giving season continues to give with the goodies we get in this one. So let us begin.

7x16 The Return

Seth is back....Of course he threw his corrupt oncologist under the bus to get back in. That’s low. I mean I expect nothing less from him. tbh. They could’ve at least sent him to another station… He picked the perfect time to pick on the LAPD I will say. What Wade’s saying is frustrating but unfortunately, he’s right. Letting them know they need someone to train him. I mean piss-pants wouldn’t last two seconds with Tim…But that isn't the plan. Nor would that be fair to Miles.

Poor Lucy’s PTSD is screaming out how much she doesn’t want him. Ugh my heart. Kudos to Melissa in this moment. We watch as she unclenches as Nolan is tapped for this instead. Not excited in the least but willing to take it on. Good man. I have enjoyed Nolan so much more this year than I have in ages. Grey letting him know he's going to have to watch his every move. Document everything this kid does. Ooof been there Nolan. It suckkkssss.

I had someone on my team at my old job like this. Played the system and was a walking law suit just like Seth. They didn’t deserve to be there and that's hard to deal with. I learned the hard way to record literally every detail in order to 'Wash' them out so to speak. It’s not easy to fire a legal liability. Especially when they have the system on their side. All I could think was he’s gonna have to bounce him for the slightest FTO infraction. To have that piled against many other documented offenses. What I had to do. Not an easy feat. Commend Nolan for taking it on.

Lucy so excited to see Tamara. It's precious. Her love for the people in her life is so genuine and pure. Oh my lord. Their hug made me so happy. Didn't get a chance to fit it in but maybe in my in-depth this summer I can haha I had a feeling this would be for Seth though…. Not to see her. Even though that's a bonus for them both. She is there to support this turd of a human being. *sigh* Wanting Lucy to be his friend.

Channeling some 2x06 Tim in telling Tamara she's his training officer not his friend. I mean we all know it was a lie for Tim but very very true for Lucy in this instance. Lucy can see she is losing Tamara to her Tim-like rant and stops. It's here Tamara asks the world of Lucy. By saying she wants to have dinner tonight with her. For her to meet the 'real' Seth. If she only knew how ironic that sentence was...

He has her wrapped out his conniving little finger. I hate it so much. I wanna say how could she be so blind? But I’ve been emotionally manipulated by a man before. It sucks when you come out the other side of it. It happens sadly more often than it should. Ugh the damage this will cause…Lucy being the amazing pseudo mom she is says yes. Wanting to maintain her relationship with her. Not to lose it to Seth and his lies. Other than Tim she is the one person she would do anything for.

Ice cold reception… ooof. You are gonna fail my man. One might ask why come back to this station? Well manipulative narcissists love attention. Even if it’s negative. They thrive off it really. Also they ALWAYS have someone sympathetic to their cause to fuel the sympathy card. In this case it's Tamara. I hate it. Giving me my own ptsd concerning a person like this. I do love Nolan telling him they're skipping roll call get the shop ready. Smart move....

Awesome that his previous errors follow him into his return. No re-do for you. John laying that out right away. Might actually love you in his episode good sir. Seth immediately defending his lie and Nolan is over him already. if you really wanna do this stfu Seth. Only hurting your cause the more you speak.

God Nolan is channeling some Feral Tim here and I’m about it. Get em John! You hurt this station, you hurt Lucy and you dishonored the badge you putz. Nolan is a honorable as they come. Yes that was a compliment lol. And you spat in the face of everything he holds dear about this career. Also you hurt his friend. You are toast my son. Or as Nolan puts it. His nightmare T.O. He crushes Seth with his idc speech.

About how he was raised by someone like him. Grew up with a woman who only used the truth to serve herself. *Mic drop* If that isn’t Seth in a nutshell. Can’t say ever been attracted to Nolan on this show like ever. But hot damn this is a Nolan I can get on board with. lmao I’m enjoying the show. *eats popcorn* Tearing down any preconceived notions this will be easy or he will believe him. Well done John actually really proud of him for this scene. Good job writers.

When Celina tries to see the best about Seth with Lucy all I could do was shake my head. Thinking 'Oh Celina don’t defend him.' That’s the worst thing you could do in this moment. He is not a 'see the best in people kind of guy.' You are talking to the Queen of that and she is over it. He took advantage of her empathy and used it to gain traction in a program he didn’t belong in. As I said earlier he’s doing it for the attention like the lying manipulative narcissist he is. Holy cow this episode is igniting my Sicilian rage with him lol

It brings us to the dinner and how Lucy doesn't have the room to host such an event. So what does she do? Calls her person of course and enlists his help in this. All I could think as she dialed was, OMG Lucy Chen, you’re asking Tim, who’ll go absolutely feral not just for you but for Tamara too, to host this kid in his house for dinner? It's a good thing this man is gone for you. That is quite the ask my girl haha Enticing him with a free home cooked meal at first.

Did make me cackle her eye roll when he said his plans were COD. LOL You love your reclusive little gaming nerd madam. Don't lie. Will say my Feral Tim senses were tingling at the prospect of this. Miles seems so hurt Lucy is cooking for him though. Oh honey, it’s not like that....It's written all over his upset puppy face when it's mentioned. Wanna give him a hug.

The way she says ‘I’ll owe you.’ Dripping with innuendo. Flirt more Lucy my god woman. No shame in her game. Knowing she is being seductive af in her approach. Celina catches on and Lucy has to put up a finger to stop her from saying a word. Knowing exactly what Lucy is throwing down here. Of course he gives in. For a couple reasons. One because Lucy has him wrapped around her finger and she knows it LOL This man would do anything for her. That was the case before he was in love with her. But after? When she has potential sexy times to dangle in front of him? Whew lord. Has him hook, line, and sinker.

Two. He gets nervous with her being so brazen with Miles there. So he answers quickly with an 'Ok.' It's the way his eye dart over to Texas as he delivers his answer that kills me. heh. He can't get too excited with the prospect of her 'owing' him with his rookie in the car lmao I didn't have Lucy seducing Tim with the 'owing' him in on shift on my bingo card. But so glad it happened.

Giving season continues to give. Sweet lord. Celina is all but beaming when Lucy hangs up on him. She is our on-screen shipper this season and I'm here for it. Doesn't waste a second giving her shit about it. She is red af when she tells Celina to shut up haha Lucy is giddy as hell and flying high off that convo and it's adorable to watch. Look at her as red as a tomato once it's said and done. I love it.

There is something so wonderful about how Miles immediately vents his frustration to Tim. This relationship has come so very far. Their scenes just continue to get better as the season goes along. I totally understand his anger. He’s done everything right and yet it’s the bad ones that get the passes. The legs up in life by being dishonest. I could not understand this more if I tried. Twas me in my last job.

His anger is well founded. He’s getting his job back, back pay of 10k, Miles passed up money in 7x13 to do the right thing, and Seth doesn’t and gets all this. 10K in his lap just like that. I get it. Frustrating as hell to watch the bad people of the world have it easier. All I could think was his day will come Texas I promise you.

Karma thou art a cold and relenting bitch. She’s coming for him. He’s racking up bad karma points like he’s collecting carnival tickets. Thing is when he cashes them in all that is waiting is one giant karmic smackdown. Tim tells him exactly that in his statement more or less. For Miles to put him out of his mind. Mark his words *yum* He will wash out again. What ran through my mind after that was your lips to Gods ears Timothy.

Seth comes in wanting more pity. Miles ignores him as first. Holding firm like Tim told him to. Then he gets under his skin about his past. A wound not close to healing and he snaps....As much as he deserves that beating it wasn't the way to go my dear. Tim and Nolan hear the commotion and find them after they've parted.

Tim is less than impressed with their explanation. He looks so disappointed in Miles. That look wasn't enough though. Tim telling Texas straight. His moral compass has me fanning myself. Crushing exactly why he needs to keep his cool. To not let him infect him like he has. Because now look at him. Becoming no better than he is with lying. *sad sigh* He’s not worth it Miles I promise you that. They never are.

Lucy asking where his salad forks are? Lmao. You practically lived with this man. You should know he has no salad forks sweets. lol His fridge full of just beer is such a bachelor thing. I mean that alone should've answered her question really. lol I love him so much. Also could they be more together without being together? His smile when she asked. *happy sigh* I’m on the floor. Just a happy puddle. Leave me here. TIm isn't even pretending he doesn't want to do this with her. He is so happy to have her in his home.

I'm happy to be here as well. Tim's place has become one of my fav spots to be now. They act as married as two people can be that aren't together..... Very s4 of them with the added layer of already knowing they're in love with each other. She legit touches him on her way back into the kitchen. Just watch her while Celina speaks. Her arm touches him with a happy smile before checking on dinner.

I'm dying. Melissa and Eric kill me with their add on's. You know that was intentionally done. They love to make us squee with the smallest things. Just to see if we're looking. I was looking don't you worry. You gotta be looking for this instance but it's there. *screams into a pillow* It's so domestic I'm losing my damn mind. Like her picking lint off his uniform like she did in 5x12. It's second nature this natural touch of hers and it comes through as such. I'm a happy girl.

I love Tim putting his hand up when they hear the doorbell. Shielding her from having to let them in. Wanting to give her that extra time to mentally prep herself for this evening. Such a small but massive gesture. Showing Lucy he's got her back through and through. It makes me so damn happy. He's going to do whatever for her tonight. To do his damndest to help her get through this unscathed.

It's tense as hell from the moment Tim opens the door. They can all feel it. Another reason Tim takes the lead here. His face when he takes their coats....Feral Tim is lurking beneath the surface but keeps him at bay. Loves Lucy so very much to welcome this incredibly unwelcome guest into his home for her. It's as painfully awkward as expected when they come greet Lucy. We see her be genuine in her affections for Tamara and how reserved she is with Seth.

The train wreck of convo continues when he changes course and says 'We-we got you flowers.' Sensing her not caring he got her the flowers. She is trying SO hard to keep it together. Barely squeaks out a thank you before heading back toward the kitchen. ‘What are the chances he took these off a grave?’ Celina Juarez I love you. I was laughing so damn hard at this. Lucy groans and heads back in.

The dinner starts out positive. We find out Tamara is volunteering with a wonderful organization. One that helps homeless people. That they focus on building trust with the mentally ill. Which is utter perfection for her. Honestly that is a *chefs kiss* career trajectory for her. Seems like she is on the right path in every way except for Seth..... Lucy seems so excited and proud of her for it. It does gets slightly tainted with her saying she is going to get Seth involved one day.

Rodge puts his foot in his mouth by speaking in Spanish to Celina about him. Sorry the captions ran over each other. Hulu is a turd lol Saying he's not sure building trust is his thing lol. Gotta give it to him on that one. First time I've liked this dude. Also will give it to them it's cute they communicate in Spanish to each other as a secret language. Still think she could do better but this is cute.

Unfortunately Seth can speak it.....Rodge has to backtrack immediately saying he was just joking. We watch Tim check in on Lucy right away. The way he shifts back in his seat and he keeps his eyes squarely on her. His main concern at this table is her and only her. He did this dinner for her and is ready to be her emotional support should the need arise. Lucy looks ready to burst before this next section happens. It's why Tim is watching her like a hawk.

I will say I loved the looks shared over the table during this whole thing. Oh my lord. The silent communication always a fav of mine. They check in with each other from across the table. Also just the way Tim watches Lucy too. Gauges the whole table but mainly keeps a beat on her. Waiting for a signal to jump in or not. He reads her the entire dinner. I love it. Knowing if she needs him she will signal him. He's just waiting for that sign to tag in or not.

We watch as her ring gets exposed....All I could think was sweet lord no Tamara. You’re so much smarter than this. Seth stumbling saying it's not what it looks like. That it's a promise ring. Rodge coming in with another solid point. Saying that's exactly what a engagement ring is....For a habitual liar he's so very bad at it. It's unreal. Also Celina pulling on her ear like crazy being ignored by all at the table lol We are far past that now though.

I knew the ring was gonna set her off. Hell it set me off. I had to pause and reprimand her myself. This is Lucy's tipping point. Especially after Seth says he had extra money lying around. Poor choice of words to use my dude. I love the way Tim's eyes shift over to Lucy when she says 'You had extra money?' angrily. He knows when his girl is ready to go off on one. But she is off to the races before he can do anything about it.

He wasn't stopping this one. Instead he just sit backs and watches her let it rip. Knowing she needs to get this out of her system. Lucy lets out all she’s had pent up. He is PTSD in walking form for her. Not only that but he's infecting someone very dear to her. So I get it. It’s already a tough pill for her to swallow with just him at work. But with Tamara and her future? Being so nonchalant bout the ring and how he got it. She can't handle it any longer.

Sadly no one hears anger clearly when they’re already on the defensive. Especially if it’s about someone they’re protecting. Which is Tamara in this moment. Even though Lucy is in the right it's not well received. It's why Tim doesn't jump in. I was expecting some Feral Tim but this was the smarter play for him. Even if it wasn't the right move to lose it he didn't need interfere. It would just pour fuel on Lucy’s fire and do nothing to ease the tension. We watch Tamara take off with Seth as a result and it's not easy to stomach.

We see Tim showing up like a god damn snack the following morning. Hell not just a snack but a whole god damn meal. Scruffy in a leather jacket and henley.*fans self* Not only that but he has arrived to support her before his shift. I’m dead. I’m posting from the grave. If you've been looking for his small doses all year. This is a glaringly sweet one. My god look at how excited he looks to just share a ride and prep with her. Doing his Lucy smile in front of other people. OTHER PEOPLE. Transparent Tim you are a wonder.

I’m dying of happiness right now. She is giving heart eyes right back at him. Truly touched by his thoughtfulness to show up before work and make the time for this. Make time for her. Forever floored by the changed man in front of her. After the mess that was last night, this was exactly what she needed and her reaction says it all. Legit flirting in front of Celina and Rodge too. They don’t even care. Tim doesn't care. Which is mind blowing.

He is sunshine from the moment he steps into that apartment. Yes, that's right I said Tim Bradford and sunshine in the same sentence. And I'm not referring to Lucy in this regard. He is so damn happy to just be there for her and its radiating off him in waves. So much so he is flirting with her in front of people. Pre-therapy Tim never would've. He's grown so much in his openness I could cry. He is a puppy dog in love and doesn't care who see's it. It's written all over his demeanor from the moment he walks in the door.

'What was that?' LMAO You think you can get shit past his cop eyes? Foolish fools lol But also babe, you were a shining beacon of 'I’m in love with Lucy' from the moment you walked in the door. Even a laymen like Rodge could see it….You guys aren't known for your subtlety either haha But you were on blast from the moment you came in. Just like he has been all season long. Also doesn't help his case Lucy was just as flirtatious in return. Fueling his flames. I love him trying to sell the whole ‘we’re just friends’ thing.

Like showing up for her, heart practically on his sleeve, is just some casual act of support. You two couldn’t do casual if your lives depended on it.. He's so god damn cute trying to defend himself though. I cannot. While we know he is there to support her. Truly he is. There is zero doubt about that. The man is ecstatic to help her cross the finish line of this. Especially since the detective one was such a disaster. But the other half is damn near giddy about the implications of her passing this test. We all know what those are. I don't even to type that up.

To say he is excited about the prospect is an understatement. I love his defeated ‘OK'. Hahahaha Eric's inflection killing me and has me rolling so much. Knows he is in a losing battle with these two and just gives up lol Also I wouldn't be me if I didn't comment on how sinfully delicious he looks. Holy fuck he is looking all kinds of fine. It's criminal how attractive this man is. Scruffy, in a leather jacket and a tight shirt? God damn the man is a feast for the eyes. He is sex on two legs walking. Sweet lord he is exuding illegal levels of attractiveness. It's almost unfair. Also seeing him so happy and free is insanely sexy in its own right I have to say. *phew* Ok I'm done. I might need some ice water though. lmao

Tim doesn’t waste a second on the drive to her test—he jumps straight into firing off questions. Or he's been firing them off for awhile at this point, with the way they drift off topic. Either way look at the blatant heart eyes and smile as Tim quizzes her. Just look at her. Oh my lord. It's bringing her back Tim doing this for her. Also for how much this last minute prep means to her. They didn't get to do this with the detectives exam.

Always blows my mind how much these two both convey with just their eyes. Be more in love with him Lucy. I dare you. You're just as transparent as your counterpart. My goodness. If he looked over long enough he would see her gushing at him. She is in full on swoon mode over this man right now. Also sorry the gif gets blurry for a second.

My phone did a thing and I was too lazy to re-make it not gonna lie lmao Tim's reply of 'Very good.' has Lucy buzzing. He asks if she feels ready? Lucy feeling as ready as a person can be for such a test. Tim's satisfied smile is the sweetest as he accepts this answer. Happy she is a in a good space before all of this.

We can see Lucy psyching herself up to say something to Tim. Knowing this last minute prep is more than just that. Trying to pull it out of him the real reason WHY he’s doing this. Needing to hear it. She starts off with thanking him for the ride. Tim being chill saying it's no problem. Lucy tries again with thanking him for helping her study. She is beating around the bush here and he is not picking up what she is throwing down right now haha Which is a rarity for them.

I truly think he feels he was returning the favor for her. Genuine in his reply. Another one of his small doses in action. To repay her kindness to him. For helping him out all those years ago when he went for it. To support her the way she did for him in s2. I think he genuinely wanted to make a meaningful difference this time. Carrying the weight of her failed Detectives exam on his shoulders a bit.

Knowing what an absolute disaster that was. Wanting this one to go so much better than the first time he helped her out. Lucy isn't getting the reaction she wants though. Clearly she is wanting to talk about what happens if she passes. In this moment, that future suddenly holds a lot of appeal to her. Especially after all he's done for her with this exam. This ride of their's being the cherry on the top of it all.

This is my favorite part of this scene. The banter alone is glorious holy shit. We are so lucky to have Eric and Melissa helming this couple. Displaying that lightning in a bottle only they have. No one does it better than our ship at verbal sparring. Lucy can't take it any longer and finally just says what's on her mind. She asks if part of the reason he's doing this has anything to do with the promise she made? One of 'physical intimacy' if she makes Sergeant. Such a Lucy way to approach this without saying anything about a relationship. lol The promise of that is part of it of it for sure. Not gonna lie. But we know that is not all of it.

It's a damn good by-product of her passing though lol I love him saying not if but when she makes Sergeant. My man still building her up even when she's giving him shit. Her smile says it all though. Just soaking in his praise. He continues on saying that this is what friends do for each other. It's his sassy comment following this that gets me the most. I was dying with his tone and absolute snark while delivering it. Facial expressions and all. Tim throwing back her words at her had me cackling. Not only that but adding his own spin. 'Without thinking of The joys of physical intimacy.' I'm dying. Now hers is a more refined version of ‘naked time’ moment imo. It's what it reminds me of. LOL I love it sfm.

Tim doesn't let her get away with it either in his reply. The flirting is on another level here. Holy hell. The verbal sparring is foreplay x1000 for these two. Lucy knows he is mocking her and calls him on it. Asking if he really thinks this the best path forward? She is smiling the entire time btw. Tim doesn't hesitate with his dazzling Lucy smile and reply. 'Yeah absolutely.' You know she loves this. Has missed this rapport with him. It's an intimacy she has longed to have back. This kind of banter is at their very core. It’s so cute and light and fun. I’m dizzy with delight we've returned to this place. If you were wondering if they're back. Truly back. This moment is proof of that. Seamless flirty banter at it's finest. Healing this old shipper heart of mine.

Tim follows that up by saying that, once she has passed the test, they won't have that pesky rank issue anymore. First off love his certainty she's going to crush this. Just like detective there is no doubt in his mind she's got this. Second Tim is once again throwing down they could be together after she passes. Tried and true this year in his steadfastness with that. Letting her know on every level how much he wants to be with her.

Hasn't been shy or reserved in the least regarding that. It’s up to Lucy to decide if she wants that when they get there though. He respects her boundaries about this. Something he's been so damn good at this entire season. He ends their convo telling her 'Not that either of them are reading into that though.' Yeah not at all.... Not what this entire convo was centered around... Tim once more as he has all year is leaving it up to her.

Laying it at her feet to do with it what she will. Giving Lucy her agency back a little bit more each time he does this. Building her up, showing his interest and desire to be with her. BUT ultimately leaving it up to her to decide their fate. It has to be Lucy to be one the decide she wants to do this again. It’s very clear Tim does. But he won’t make a move unless she does. Respecting her boundaries as he’s done since their chat during their stakeout in 6x10.

Was happy to See Tamara there when Lucy arrived home from her test. It's a little tense at first when she asks about the test. Lucy giving best answer she can. Letting Tamara lead this conversation. Doesn't take her long to apologize. To show her how much she doesn't want to lose her friendship with her over it all. Lucy having the best reply she can in this moment.

Telling her that's not possible and giving the sweetest hug. The relief on Tamara's face is everything. Her relationship with Lucy means everything to her. Glad she was able to tap back into that and come apologize. That Seth hadn't clouded her that much. Their sweet reconciliation is interrupted by news about Seth.

Oh my, I LOVE the Tim and miles scene here. Miles being the good soul he is feels immense guilt. For fighting with him and being resentful. For lashing out on him like he did. Now that he's hurt he is feeling like a complete ass. I adore how Tim is here for him in this moment. Knowing it's complex what he is feeling right now. That he feels stupid for not listening to Tim. For letting his emotions win out. Tim can see all this churning inside him.

So he steps up to help him through it. His advice is perfection here. First off let me say how proud I am of Tim for telling Miles his feelings are valid. That Seth has earned that anger and resentment out of him. Doesn't shame him for feeling this way at all. That it's ok he feels this. Regardless of what's going on right now in this moment with him. Letting him know yeah he's a bad guy. A bad guy who did a heroic and selfless thing. So yeah it's going to be murky on how to feel. That it's complicated to say the least.

To me personally this doesn't erase all he did. It was heroic and selfless that much is sure. Did I want this fate for him? Of course not. I wanted him to go out on his job performance not this. They all did. I just love Tim seeing the guilt Miles is carrying and tries to assuage him of it a little. Might not be able alleviate it all but Tim validating him is everything. This such a lovely scene between them. They've come so far and this scene is a wonderful reflection of that.

John Nolan had some excellent scenes with Seth in this episode. Seriously if they wrote him more like they have this season, my respect would come back. He handled this entire things like a pro. Didn't let Seth shake or deter him in anyway. This scene right here was so so good. Kudos to Patrick and his performance here. It's phenomenal. This was karma in all it's glory happening right here. The one time he’s actually selfless and heroic, it destroys the career he so fiercely protected with his web of lies.

It's poetic justice at it absolute finest I will say. John's words here are so full of sage and true wisdom. This kid is getting a huge lesson and it's up to him to decide what to do with it. Up him to him to chart a course back to being a good person. First time Seth has been honest since he arrived. Telling John he doesn't know if he can maintain that road of honesty. He's not sure he can take another road in this crossroads. Will he continue at the station or any station in a diminished capacity? I don't think so. That would require serious work on himself and being ok with the fact he can't have career he wants to anymore. To not have excuses.

Nolan already called him out about shortcuts. While this may have earned him some good will. I don't see him putting in that effort to stick around the station in this capacity. John doesn't get to finish this with him though. Let's Tamara have time with him. He tells her everything (finally) and of course she breaks it off. Saying Lucy warned her. She sure did sweets.....This is what being a manipulating habitual liar gets you. Someday you run out of people to support you. Now he has to go through this leg trauma alone. That's rough. Like I said not a fate I would've wished on him. But definitely one he earned...

Look at them meeting up at the end of the day. Discussing Tamara. My heart. Tamara googling how to join a nunnery. lol Oh my word. I do not blame her. Poor thing I can't even. It’s gonna take her some time to get past this. That is for sure. Learning to trust people again is knowing you could be hurt again. That is an unfortunate fact of life sadly. Tim’s reply made me cackle though. I love him. Lucy saying it’ll pass. It will. Like a kidney stone but it will…. I love him immediately moving onto how she’s doing? The soft way he asks her is everything. Be still my heart.

Look at where we are everyone. Just look. Last time they were at this table they were physically together. But emotionally? Miles and miles apart from where they are now. They’ve come so far to be in this moment right now. With Lucy leaning on him emotionally like this. Very couple like thing to do. Get a meal after work and discuss their day together. Adore her venting out her anxieties to him. Wondering how she really did on that test.

Been a slow climb back to the top. But a gloriously beautiful one. We haven't hit the summit yet but we're getting there. It's on the horizon Fandom. Don't these moments feel like they just hit more with having built up to it? They do for me. Like we earned them. That Tim has earned this time with her. Getting to see and share in this side of her again. It's so glorious. I mean we haven't even gotten to reconciliation yet and I'm on a ship high. I can't even imagine how rewarding that'll feel when we arrive there. It'll feel hard-won and all the more satisfying I know that.

Tim being s7 is perfection in his reply. Doing what he's done so well all year. Build her up. Not letting her have an ounce of doubt. Saying there is no way to know but let’s assume she aced it. Positive thinking can’t hurt tbh. Look at Tim being positive for her. Not letting any self doubt creep in. Man believes in her so much it’s unreal. Lucy kicking into flirting mode. Saying what should they do based off that assumption? Wondering where he is going with this. I mean she has to know a little. But is trying to confirm.

Tim leaning forward all sexy and seductive just says ‘Celebrate?’ This man could not want her more if he tried. He’s always a billboard but my goodness he is forward with his question. I’m here for it. Chomping at the bit to be with her again. Shows in his body language and telling reply. I will commend Lucy for her self control here. My good look at him.

If Tim Bradford leaned forward looking like that. All flirty and staring at me like he is at Lucy and said 'Celebrate?' With his cute puppy dog in love face. I would drag him to the nearest dark corner and have my way with him. LOL But I understand Lucy's hesitation below. I truly do. If this doesn't work out like they want and she gives in. All it'll cause is for the water between them to get murkier and they'll just be miserable for it. Because at the end of the day nothing would've changed for them at work. She just can't risk it till it's a sure thing.

I love her resetting his expectations here as well. Holding true to that emotional boundary she set in 7x12. Nothing physical past midnight on April Fool's. Also it’s is VERY important he knows she didn’t take this test for him. To put her foot down about it. All flirting aside this is first time she's felt any stability in her career in a long time. Or joy for the future because she now has a goal in mind. S6 wrecked her in so many ways. Her remaining damage about that is showing in this moment IMO. Because last time she did anything in her career for him it blew up on her. Epically. As we all painfully know. Very important to her that distinction is being made here.

This is for her. For her to have career clarity. Her PTSD shining through in this moment I will say. She is desperate to have a different outcome this time. This moment reminds me of her setting the expectations back in 5x10. Where Tim was ready for some naked time and Lucy had to guide him to where she’s at. Beautiful thing is Tim just like he did then is going to honor what she wants. He may be ready to go right now but Lucy isn’t. It's why he poses 'celebrating' as a question to her. Wants to test the waters but also wants to continuously meet her where she is at. He respects the boundary she just laid out. And for him to understand why she did this.

Tim understands completely. Saying Of course. That it was a smart career move. And it is. He’ll always champion her having a successful career. Always. It reflects in his reply back to her. Sitting back and physically respecting the boundary as well. Lucy continues on saying she hasn’t passed yet. That things haven’t changed between them before that. He’s still currently her boss. Also feel like there may be just one more chat ahead of us. I could be wrong. But that ‘things haven’t changed between us' felt loaded. There was some charged anger in that ‘I didn’t take this test for you.’ There is probably more here I can't discern just yet. Have to wait till the end of the season but feel solid my initial analysis of this.

After Lucy says her piece we are right back to flirty hopefulness. They’re drawn to it like a moth to a flame, especially as we get closer to this reconciliation. Tim rests back in his seat knowing there will be no celebrating here tonight. He shot his shot and was denied. He respects it immediately. But stay’s steady in his hope there will be in the future. Saying next week we will know. With this knowing smile that Lucy mirrors right back at him. Smiling back with her own heart eyes and in love smile. Saying 'Yes we will.’ Oooh lord we close fandom we are so close. Look at how much these two just love each other.

The smiles saying more than words ever could. Especially Lucy's. That is the smile of a woman who is ready for this next chapter with Tim. For this next chapter of her career. If it comes with the love of her life on top of it. That is just a delicious addition to it all. They’re legit having eye sex at the food truck park. My god. I'll be intrigued to see what happens when she passes. She's forgiven him. He knows as such. The test has been this barrier to true reconciliation for awhile. What will happen when that barrier is truly gone? How Lucy reacts when there is nothing left standing in their way anymore?

Will the second confession she almost made in 7x15 get its conclusion? Idk and that's the fun part. I know I am excited to see how this season wraps up. This season has been a wonderful wild card in the best way. Could not be more pleased with their development this year. The slow burn and delayed gratification has been beyond amazing to watch unfold. Thank you to every single reader who likes, comments ( these are so fun), and reblog these impressions. Had a blast this year. You all are the reason for that. See you all in 7x17 :)

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Love the boys getting ready. Talking sports. Miles coming in Texas Af LOL It was such a cute way to start the episode.

‘Where’s Darwinism when you need it?’ I love this man so much it’s insane. Never change my love never change. Was excited I got to fit this in.

Nolan got some damn good dialogue in this one. I have to say. Him asking where that man's fandom was that helped them? Solid John. Very Solid.

Those social media kids drove me insane. I must be getting old LOL

I love how Lucy handled that idiotic crowd for Angela. My blood was boiling. Handled it like a damn champ.

Can’t say next weeks excites me. Because I can’t stand Skip tracer Randy tbh. Hopefully it’ll be good regardless of him being there and we get some follow-up for Chenford and the Sergeant exam. But my guess is that’ll be more of a finale thing? I don't do spoilers so I don't actually want an answer haha We shall see either way.

[sunlight-shunlight]

putting it into an ask because I don't want to derail your post sorry

As someone who's culture lost their last L1 Speaker around the time they were born. This!! So much this!!

It is EXTREMELY difficult to learn endangered languages, and from experience the people who do know how to speak some of it are extremely protective of it even to others from that same culture! (something that makes me even more attached to the dalish as a peoples sigh)

I would die for the chance to speak my tribes original language but even if I could jump through the hoops to do it, a decade is decisively not. enough. time. to do so. Yet alone to adopt the native cadence of the language. Again even if I wanted too! Which I desperately desperately do!

Lavellan would have to jump through so many hoops that by the time she might be ready to start speaking it regularly (in the context of ancient elvhen) that Veilguard would probably be on the horizon already. That's also given the idea that there are even universities willing to put aside discriminatory behavior twords the elves to provide classes on such specific subjects. AND putting aside the whole 'wow that's straight up the herald of andraste in my Sociolinguistics class' with the problems that would cause.

I mean, I know its a fantasy universe and I'm really projecting on it here but like hear me out- I have a dictionary and a book of stories translated by scholars I will never meet, and a series of audio-files that I myself had to copy convert to a format I could have on my phone and listen to. I'm untrained and uneducated on how to go about it sure but even with my available tools it feels like an uphill battle with every new word I pick out to practice. I sing songs from that book fully knowing Im butchering it the whole time, and try my best to feel connected to something i know I cannot fully understand. And that's beautiful! That;s fantastic! There's something to truly love there! And veilguard doesn't even let us try to explore that idea!

The fact that we don't get to choose whether or not we drank from the well makes this so extremely frustrating. The game gives both the Inquisitor and Moriggan the benefits of the well without ever allowing our input. Because to me the only way that Lavellan could become even partially fluent in ancient elvhen would be if she drank from the well. But then Moriggan is also allowed all types of unlocked knowledge from her deus-ex-inner-mythal shes suddenly alright with having been provided from her mother despite her horror in DAI.

It takes away a huge part of what I think Solas really liked about a romanced Inky, as she was always so curious and open to learning new things about the past- Even when they would clash on certain subjects. It takes away this really lovely concept that even if they are going into the torment nexus together that he could at least be teaching her the language in there on top of it all. He would love her broken annunciations and he awkward cadence, and respond in kind ;w;

I'm super biased about the torment nexus ending because I love the mythological tragedy of it but there should have been so many more choices ugghh. While I would still choose this ending regardless I think the idea that the inquisitor should have been able to have at least an on screen spat between her and Solas, There is absolutely good reason for it all considering.

She should have had moments where she slips in and out of what she had learned from the ancient dialect, Where she goes from in canter to out because of how passionate she might be in that moment. Going from trade to elvhen and back. It would be glaringly obvious that she practiced what she did want to say to him in the final battle and he would be able to tell. It would mean so much more to him than her just magically understanding it all at once.

we could have one of his stupid chuckles with tears welling in his eyes and everything like damn you bioware *shaking fist at cloud*

At least give me some kind of 'a romanced inquisitor convened with spirits to learn' kind of explanation if you're going to magic it into her knowledge I mean please!

Anyway sorry for the ramble, I wouldn't have the confidence to share this if it wasn't for your posts so thanks for all of your lore-dives and analysis posts I do genuinely enjoy all of them.

♥🤝

yeah!! i very much agree. i'm very mildly bilingual (not good at it ahaha) and like... that language is not endangered in the least, half my family still speaks it, and it's still just hard to re-learn on a basic level! and to me there's always that degree of self consciousness and feeling a bit bad about not knowing, when it's a language i feel like i "should" know, as opposed to a fully second language that i'm just learning from scratch. and personally i get stressed and actively worse at it when people expect me to be fluent and get disappointed when i'm not. the social pressure alone removes some linguistic ability, haha.

so i found it sad that lavellan - regardless of the well - gets pushed into suddenly being 100% fluent. she can still be dalish and not good at it! or just not the type of person who'd think to speak in it in front of random people (everyone else standing there fdhjdgd). i thought of my inquisitor as a city elf who was adopted into the clan as a child, and tried REALLY hard to learn elvhen afterwards bc she wanted to fit in. but it's not "natural" to her to slip into it for longer or more complex ideas. and arguably if a lavellan got "woe, fluency be upon ye" from the well, they might actually be LESS likely to use it in speaking, bc it is also a bit of a mind control symptom at that point...

and imo it's actually really sweet that solas falls in love with someone who - at least in dai - is really different from him! on top of being a cringe fail mortal from the world he initially hated, and from a culture that doesn't like him, lavellan does not have to be very in tune with the language or culture as he knows it. he goes for their ~rare and marvelous spirit~ rather than anything else, and is happy to share with them, but it's never like a mandatory thing.

I mean, I know its a fantasy universe and I'm really projecting on it here but like hear me out- I have a dictionary and a book of stories translated by scholars I will never meet, and a series of audio-files that I myself had to copy convert to a format I could have on my phone and listen to. I'm untrained and uneducated on how to go about it sure but even with my available tools it feels like an uphill battle with every new word I pick out to practice. I sing songs from that book fully knowing Im butchering it the whole time, and try my best to feel connected to something i know I cannot fully understand. And that's beautiful! That;s fantastic! There's something to truly love there! And veilguard doesn't even let us try to explore that idea!

and this is exactly it!! i think that experience of slowly picking up things and figuring out how much you can learn is really important, and they just skipped over that entirely to "lavellan is now suddenly fluent in elvhen. yay!" which kind of elides how much work that is, how or why they would've done that, whether they would've wanted to...

like that's a whole character arc that seemingly just gets skipped offscreen and made mandatory! and it's not bc the writers are saying anything really deep and meaningful about cultural reconnection, but bc i think they were likely not ever in the position of having to think about those types of decisions themselves, and uncharitably, were like "ok. solas is super elfy, right. so to make it more romantic, make lavellan super elfy as well! yay! Problem Solved :)" when that was never a problem. ;-;

[little-saw]

🌙 cg ! marc spector headcanons !

finally writing some marc stuff after yapping so much, there's some callbacks to @amokissy 's post she did from my request cause I loved some of dolls ideas! simple reminder to check out and support her work:)

Marc is a strict caregiver. He has a schedule that he makes sure to follow. Wake up, 5 minutes of cuddles, get you guys breakfast, etc.

Really gentle, he touches you like you're glass, scared he will hurt you by mistake, he sees you as a small little, no matter how old you are.

Calls you love, soldier, little knight, kiddo, babygirl/babyboy, etc...

When he's tired, (more often than not) he let's smaller things get by, whether more time on the TV or an extra hour of snuggles. He doesn't have the energy to lay down rules and properly discipline (though he never will)

Which leads me into the lack of discipline, Marc HATES getting upset with his little, it can be somewhat triggering for him, he prefers to sit you down and explain things carefully and slowly. If you continue to fuss, and he does snap, he will apologize relentlessly and give you lots of treats and love.

After long days of work, coming home to you is just what he needs. Don't be suprised if you come home and he scoops you up, grabs a beer and lays down for some hugs and relaxation.

VERY protective of you, you cannot be alone, he will always watch you like a hawk and it takes alot of pressing from both Jake and Steven to let you do something even slightly getting your hands dirty.

When speaking with Khonshu, he will give you something to play with. His phone, a random toy, etc. He will hold you to his side, his cape blowing in the wind while he addresses the giant god.

Big back rubber, he will mindlessly rub your back and play with your hair the moment you're near him, he's comforted knowing someone appreciates his presence and feels this safe around him.

He doesn't really like playing, but if you want to, he won't resist. He does a half attempt at a cartoon voice whenever he plays, usually ending in a voice crack and many sighs despite the fact he's loving it.

Defended your presence to Khonshu when he called you a distraction. He won't take any disrespect towards his little.

Will walk you into the kitchen and dance with you, sometimes to music, sometimes in silence. He will let you stand on his feet/shoes and gently shuffle around.

Very very rarely, he will cry while caring for you. So overwhelmed by the love, the safety the comfort. Healing the little boy in him that never felt safe through you. During that you give him lots of hugs and kisses, telling him he's the best.

[javierduffy]

“uh … it’s a bit girly … no?” javier examines himself in the reflection of his knife’s blade, looking this-a way and that, the dark blue of a large silken bow now peeking sheepishly around his neck as it sits gently in his hair. next to him, kieran clams up a smidge, hands still held close to his chest nearby his completed ribbon project on javier’s head. he finds it in himself to wring his hands a time or two rather than immediately undo his work as javier seems to continue to formulate his final opinion. “you … think so? look at me?” kieran asks, politely as a mouse. javier easily complies, turns at his hips and looks behind, up at kieran where he sits on the stump above him.

kieran, as he peers over, can’t help the meadow of flush that blooms over his neck, then his ears, then his nose and his cheeks. he can tell javier is deep in thought by the look on his face, mouth twisted just a might sideways, cocking his mustache awry, and the deep wrinkle sat between his brows. the ribbon he used matches javier’s vest perfectly, and the shine of the silk warms bright in the sun, just like every piece of jewelry and metal javier has adorned himself with. with this ribbon, javier’s hair sits lower on his head, ponytail draped down his nape and more hair framing his face in his bangs. kieran resists an urge to tuck one side back behind his ear.

kieran thinks that he looks like a painting, a muse, a love letter so heartbreakingly full of adoration that the only language it could be written in is bright swipes of pigment on a canvas. as he makes eye contact with the silk squinting around the red of a necktie, he thinks that javier may be right, if ‘girly’ could sum up ’poetry written in effeminate reverence’.

kieran always did think women made better art, wrote better books- found a better way to love. softer. warmer. prettier. like javier.

the world sounds like it’s underwater.

“i think … it’s very pretty. it suits you real well.”

earnest to a fault, the look in kieran’s eye dances gingerly with javier’s internal voice. it dips and sways him, and javier, despite his instinct, finds himself charmed by its rhythm.

“-b-but! i could take it out! if you don’t-“ javier looks down at himself in his knife again, the sunlight filtered through the leaves glinting a yellow green around his dark features, and kieran hands him patience on a silver platter. a rich blue makes friends with bright green quite easy, javier thinks. this is how he must look through kieran’s mossy lens.

“pretty … yes. you know, i think you may be right. i’ll keep it. gracias.”

[mariatesstruther]

okay but a version of events in which tommy takes ellie to the fireflies, but NEITHER of them come back. and maria joel have to work together to get them back

[dullahandyke]

i need to reread cardcaptor sakura so i can ignore clear card even harder

[hqmillioncorn]

The past comes for you once again

hiiiiiiii world!!! its patticake aleria marle moontide starsinger again!!!!!!! (long name i knoooow) but you can just call me patti ! (^・ω・^ ) cause thats my name! its nice to see everyone again did you know that when my papawas growing up he told me and my little brother he had a diary he wrote in! i wanted do that too but cause im not old like my papa i started writing my diary ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ONLINE!! ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ anyway! todas story is all about the scary green lady щ(ʘ╻ʘ)щ! do you remember>? the one i mentioned before! i figured you all should know the story!! i dont know a lot about it myself! but my mama and papa always told me that if i ever see a tall lady with ears like papa and long green hair i need to run away!! isnt that the scariest thig ever?!～(　TロT)σ my parents are so paranoid sometimes ! i swear!

with @ windupnamazu 's lemon

lalapril 26: Rewind

sometimes traveling to the past is not all fun and games as patti quickly learns.

The door slammed itself closed behind Patti as she slumped down beside it. She was clutching an old journal against her chest, holding onto it like it was going to disappear any moment. “Stupid…This is so stupid!” She balled up her hands and tried to wipe her tears away. “I’m so stupid…!”

The entire house was quiet today but it felt even more suffocating inside her own room. 

The blinds were shut and the entire room was dark. With nothing but the sounds of Patti’s quiet sniffling filling the empty air. “Mama…Mama...” All of this was her fault. If she had only done just one thing differently then none of this would be happening. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry Mama…” 

Patti laid down on the floor, holding the journal closer to her. “I just wanna go back…” She shut her eyes, trying to think back to yesterday. 

That was the day her entire family had all made their way to Costa del Sol to celebrate the Moonfire Faire. Patti couldn’t remember a year that went by when they didn’t go. One of her earliest memories was her mama letting her try grilled corn. 

It was a little too hot but it was one of the yummiest things she had ever tasted! 

The Moonfire Faire was one of the many holidays that Patti looked forward to every year. Honestly she enjoyed every holiday but if you asked her which one she liked the best she would tell you the Moonfire Faire by a malm! 

Sometimes if she got lucky it would even land near her nameday!

…Which just made this entire thing even more of a nightmare for her. 

If Patti had even a hint of what was going to happen after then she would have never asked her mama if she could go back to the mainland to try and find a pretty shell she and Lemon saw earlier.

At the time only her mama and Lemon had come with her. Everything was perfect. 

That’s when Patti noticed someone walking behind her. 

Somehow she'd seen this person before, back at the Moonfire Faire. Patti thought nothing of it. This was probably someone who was attending the same festival. Maybe they were going home? 

The very second she let her guard, Patti felt her arm being grabbed.

She looked down to see a knife being held against the neck. 

“M-Mama!!”

Patti watched as her mama turned around to look at her. The smile on her face stayed frozen on her face as she quickly realized what was happening. She remembered hearing her brother crying as their mama told them it was going to be okay. 

Lemon didn’t want to leave her side, even as Patti hugged him tight he kept crying out for her. 

Somehow her and Lemon were left alone. Whoever these people were, they only wanted their mama to come with them. The next thing Patti knew she was looking up at her papa and crying her eyes out. Through her tears she tried to tell him everything she could but she just couldn’t say anything.

Lemon was even worse. When papa was with them he wouldn’t let him go no matter what anyone said. 

They fled all the way to her grandma Lunya's house and there her papa explained that tío Cherry went to find where the bad guys had taken her mama and that once he found them, he was going to go help Cherry save her. 

Patti didn’t want to let her papa go. She was afraid of something happening to him too. But surprisingly, it was Lemon who helped her feel better. He assured her the whole time that her papa was super strong, just like mama! So there was nothing to worry about!

‘The only reason mama didn’t fight the bad guys was because we were there!’

Patti was glad he was here with her. For a bit, she felt everything was going to be fine. 

Until mama and papa came back the next morning. 

Ever since then Patti had been trying desperately to go back.

Normally something like that would be impossible, but not for Patti. “Go back!” Patti’s eyes glowed a bright yellow. Her time travel powers never usually worked beyond a few minutes but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

She could feel herself moving back just a couple of seconds. 

She tried again, and again. The seconds were always different but the amount of time she could travel back was never more than a minute. As natural as time traveling was for her, it was still tiring. Patti couldn’t keep this up. No matter how much she wanted to. 

Patti traveled back another five seconds. It was getting harder to breathe. Whether it was because of the exertion or all the crying she had done, she didn’t know. “I SAID GO BACK!!” She grit her teeth and slammed her fists on the ground, sobbing. 

Patti tried to take a minute to try and calm herself down. It was easier said than done. 

Trying to steady her shaky breathing, she carefully held the tattered journal in front of her. The journal belonged to her papa. She had seen it many times before.

The first time was when she was younger. It was on a rainy day when her papa showed her and Lemon some of the entries about him and mama before they started dating. 

Of course Patti felt bad for stealing it from her own papa but this had to be done. As she opened it to a previously marked page a bunch of words stood out to her immediately. 

Words like starsinger, taken, lose forever in particular stood out to her. 

Babycorn herself hadn’t kept the secret of being a Starsinger from her children, nor did she ever shy away from how dangerous it all was. Since she was young Patti could remember her mama telling her that she needed to stay close to her no matter where they were.

How if she saw certain people she was supposed to come running to her right away.

Patti really just thought it was overkill but now…

As she continued to flip through her papa’s diary more and more things started to stand out to her. Especially the parts where he wrote about someone coming out of nowhere and trying to take Babycorn away to use her powers for their own gain.

 “This happened b-before…?” It was almost too much of a coincidence to believe. Too many things were lining up. Including the state her mama was in now. “Papa said she would wake up soon but…” The journal told her that last time this happened her mama had spent almost two months doing nothing but laying in bed, staring into nothing. 

Patti couldn’t stand just waiting around not doing anything while her mama needed help. Even worse was having to see her papa looking so defeated. The look on his face when he first came home was...

She needed to do something. 

Reading the journal Patti finally stumbled on the first time someone had taken her mama away. It happened so many years ago and her papa had for some reason blacked out a lot of parts of his entries away. 

Luckily the parts that were missing didn’t take anything away from the info that Patti needed. 

The exact days when it first happened. 

“Thank you papa…” 

Patti slowly closed the door behind her and stepped out into the backyard. “Okay….” She held out her papa’s journal in front of her. The exact dates she needed to travel back to kept running in a loop inside her mind, just so she wouldn’t forget. 

“I’ll be back soon mama, papa. I’ll fix everything I promise…!” 

This was going to be quick so the chances of anyone catching her out here were low. 

…But they weren’t zero.

The door to the backyard opened up once again, but this time it wasn’t Patti. She didn’t even have the chance to ask who was there before Lemon ran right at her, grabbing onto her tightly.

His baby chocobo, Blueberry, was resting on his head. “Patti! W-Where are you going?” He looked just about as tired as she felt. 

There was no way that Lemon knew what her plan was. 

“I’m just going for some air.”

“...Liar.” 

Patti did the smart thing and hid the journal behind her back. Okay maybe he did know. Either he had used his sibling bond to somehow figure out something was amiss or Blueberry had gone and snitched on her. “So what if I’m lying? What does it matter to you?!” It’s not like it had been his idea to go back to the mainland.

Lemon jumped, hearing his sister raise her voice so loud startled him. “What do you m-mean? What does what matter?” He wasn’t quite sure what his sister meant. The only thing that he was really sure of was that she was about to go somewhere really far away. 

“I-I’m coming too!”

“No you’re not!” 

Patti pushed her brother away and took a few steps back. “This is important! I can’t have you following me.” This particular jump wasn’t going to be anything like their previous ones. “I’m not going back to fool around Lemon. This is serious.” Patti was shaking in anger. 

Patti couldn’t let him come with her. She just couldn’t.

Lemon let out a sniffle, grabbing his tail for support. “I-I know it’s serious…! I’m n-not a baby…!” It’s not like he didn’t know what was happening! Even though he was terrified at the time it’s not like he couldn’t remember most of it.

In fact it was almost the complete opposite. 

“I know a really bad person tried to use mama’s powers and now she’s hurt really bad!” Butter tried to explain it to his children as easily as he could. Apparently a grieving father had taken their mama to change the event of his daughter dying during the calamity. 

Help had arrived too late to stop her from making it happen. 

“I know you wanna help mama! I wanna help mama too…!” That had to be the reason why Patti was going back in time today. He just had a feeling and it was very persistent. 

“Lemon just go away!” 

“B-But I always help you go back in time!” It had always been that way, ever since they first started. Patti would supply the time travel power itself but it was up to Lemon to open a portal big enough for them to walk through. “We always go together…” 

“Well this time you can’t!” What did Lemon not understand? 

Lemon wondered to himself what his own sister wasn’t understanding. He grabbed his tail, twisted and turning it nervously. The words were getting caught in his throat as he tried his hardest not to start crying again.

“I’m scared…” Those were the only words he could muster. 

As hard as Lemon tried against it, he started crying. “I-I want mama!!” He wailed, tears streaming down his face. Why couldn’t his mama hold him in her arms or pet his head like she always did when he was scared. 

Patti tried to turn away from the sight of her brother crying his eyes out and concentrate on her mission. ‘Once I fix everything, Lemon won’t be sad anymore. He won’t be crying! So just…!’ But the problem was that her brother was crying here and now. 

She couldn’t just…

Patti slowly bent down and got on her knees. As carefully as she could, she wrapped her arms around Lemon as he cried and cried. The truth had to come out eventually. “If something happened to you like what happened to mama I…I…” Just the thought alone was enough for Patti to start crying too. “...I d-don’t know what I would do…!” 

“That’s why I have to go t-too! I don’t want anything happening to you either P-Pipi!” 

“Lems…You…” 

Both siblings held onto each tightly, too scared to let the other go. 

Lemon wiped his eyes against his sister’s shirt. “We’re gonna make papa and tío Cherry happy again too…c-cause mama will be okay…!” Really Lemon had no idea what his sister had planned besides going back in time but he knew he could trust her. 

If there was anyone who could make all of this better, it was his sister!

“Y-Yeah…!” Patti took a deep breath and pushed herself back, “We got this if we work together.” 

Lemon smiled wide, showing off a few of his missing teeth. “Together!” 

As his sister composed herself he carefully reached above his head and grabbed the baby chocobo still slumbering in his hair. Their eyes slowly opened as they were placed on the grass. “Blueberry? Can you take care of mama and papa and tío Cherry while we’re gone?” 

Blueberry nodded and gave Lemon a tiny salute before hurrying back inside the house through the carbuncle door. 

“Ready Lems?” Patti held out her hand for him. Holding her papa’s journal in the other. Patti knew she was going to change everything. Things were going to be better. No matter what she had to do. 

Lemon wasted no time in taking his sister’s hand. His eyes glowed a familiar yellow. “Let’s go!”

[violetsandmagpies]

truly i do think the most endearing thing about benedick maan is that he sucks at any kind of planned romantic gesture. like, let him go off the cuff he'll come up with shit like i will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes, and moreover, i will go with thee to thy uncle's but if he's left alone for any period of time to try and come up with something sweet or romantic or even flirtatious it's just a complete disaster because he immediately panics and starts spinning his wheels.

[depvotee]

oko kokokok but like HOW DAVID LEAN READ THE SEVEN PILLARS OF WISDOM AND HE GOT THE FIRST SECTION AND HE UNDERSTOOD TM HE UNDERSTOOD AND MADE SHERIF ALI, BC HES NOT ONLY A MAN BUT A REPRESENTATION OF ARABIA, IT'S SHOWCASED ON THE FIST SCENE WITH BOTH LAWRENCE AND ALI, INSTEAD OF UNDERSTANDING WHY IT WARRANTS TO KILL A MAN OVER A WELL, HE ADMONISHES HIM, YET ALI IS INTRIGUED BY THIS MAN, IT'S LIKE THE ROMANCE IS THERE BUT IT WAS DOOMED FROM THE START YKNOW?????