#aggressive bus drivers

[nancywheeeler]

being the perfect combo of tired, hungry, sad, and on your period that one slightly mean comment from a stranger is guaranteed to throw off the entire rest of your day

[revoltinglesbians]

diversity win! the woman pointing out the race of every person in this story is pakistani!

[lionblaze03-2]

Kind of obsessed with Pam stardew valley. Btw. If anyone even CARES

[dailymanners]

If you take the bus, wave to the driver and thank them as you're getting off the bus.

Being a bus driver is an underappreciated and difficult job but still very vital to society. They still have to do customer service and deal with rude and even aggressive passengers, and on top of that have to deal with traffic and other drivers all day (and let's face it, there's a lot of bad drivers out there who aren't considerate about sharing the road). All while providing an invaluable service of getting us where we need to go. Showing them some appreciation can go a long ways for someone doing such an important job that usually gets little to no recognition or thanks.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 22

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

We are wrapping up loose plot threads so: Hungary 2024, WHICH I FIXED (kinda). My questionable understanding of racing strategy? Crocheting.

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

Radio Transcript – Hungarian GP 2024 Driver: Lando Norris (#4, McLaren) Lap: Mid-race, after McLaren undercuts Oscar Piastri

RACE ENGINEER (Will Joseph): “Lando, box this lap. Box, box.”

Lando: “…You’re kidding. You’re actually kidding.”

Will: “Lando, we need to cover the undercut. Box now.”

Lando: “Yeah, I bet we do.”

[Lando enters the pits, swaps to fresh tires, and rejoins ahead of Oscar Piastri.]

Will: “So, uh, we’re seriously doing this? We’re actually undercutting Oscar?”

Will: “Affirm. We need to consolidate track position.”

Lando: “Oh yeah? That’s what we’re calling it? Consolidating?”

Will: “Lando, we’ll discuss later. Focus on your out-lap.”

Lando: “No. I want you to tell me right now why we did that. Because Oscar was ahead. Oscar was faster. So tell me why we just screwed him over. 

Will: “It was the best call for the team.”

Lando: “Oh, was it? Because last I checked, ‘the team’ includes Oscar, and you just threw him under the bus. And for what? Because from where I’m sitting, you just played us against each other for no reason.”

Will: “Lando, we need to manage the race. We’ll discuss later.”

Lando: “No, we’ll discuss now. Because Oscar went to bat for me when it mattered. He stood up when you lot wouldn’t. And this is how you pay him back? By screwing him on strategy?”

Will: “Lando—”

Lando: “I’m giving it back.”

Will: “Lando, we need you to maintain position.”

Lando: “Like hell I do. Tell Oscar I’m lifting into Turn 1.”

Will: “…Understood.”

Lando: Oscar— (lifts off the throttle, lets Oscar pass him back easily before Turn 1) —deserves better than whatever the hell that was.

Will: Lando, we didn’t ask you to do that.

Lando: Yeah? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you made me the bad guy.

Will: This isn’t necessary—

Lando: No, what wasn’t necessary was playing stupid games with two drivers who actually trust each other. Fix your priorities.

***

Lando Norris – Post-Race Interview | 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix

Interviewer: Lando, P2 today after a tough fight with Lewis Hamilton. It was an intense battle right to the end—how are you feeling?

Lando: Yeah, I feel great! It was a proper race, a hard fight from start to finish, and I loved every second of it. I mean, Lewis is one of the best to ever do it, so going wheel-to-wheel with him like that, having to really work for that P2—it’s what racing is all about. I think we put on a good show today.

Interviewer: We heard some interesting radio messages during the race, especially around the swap with Oscar. Can you talk us through that situation?

Lando: Honestly, I just want to talk about how incredible Oscar was today. He’s been mega all weekend. He got pole, he had insane pace, and to take his first win—it’s so well deserved. I’ve been saying it forever: Oscar is that guy. He’s quick, he’s consistent, and I’m just really happy for him. It’s a huge moment.

Interviewer: Of course, but just to clarify on the swap—there was some tension on the radio. Did that impact your race at all?

Lando: Not really. My focus was on getting the best result for the team and making sure we maximized what we could. At the end of the day, Oscar won fair and square. I had my own battle with Lewis, and that’s where my head was. We went at it for a good chunk of the race, pushing each other to the limit, and I managed to come out on top. That’s what I care about—proper racing on track. That’s what people should be talking about.

Interviewer: Still, there were some discussions about team orders—

Lando: Listen, I’m not interested in making a big deal out of radio messages or politics. What matters is the racing. And today, we had an incredible race. Oscar got his first win, McLaren got a 1-2, I had a great fight with Lewis, and we showed what we’re capable of. That’s what people should be focusing on. That’s what matters.

Interviewer: Fair enough! A brilliant result today. Congratulations, Lando!

Lando: Cheers, mate!

Comments: 

@/F1Fanatic99: Lando just straight-up refusing to engage in drama and instead hyping up Oscar and talking about racing? That’s my driver. 🧡 @/HamiltonGOAT44: Lando vs. Lewis was the battle we all deserved! Absolute class from both of them. @/NorrisNation: Lewis made him work for it, but Lando held his own. That was racing at its finest. @/PiastriP1: Lando literally said “I’m here to race, not talk” and I respect that so much. @/WDCOscar: We should be talking about how good Oscar was today, not team orders drama. Lando gets it. @/DriveToThrive: Lando dodging those drama-baiting questions like he's defending P2 against Lewis Hamilton. @/TeamOrdersSkeptic: I mean, it’s cool that Lando’s focusing on the positives, but McLaren kinda did him dirty, no? @/NotABot23: Maybe, but Lando said he didn’t want a free pass. He’d rather earn his position. @/OscarWins: At the end of the day, Oscar won fair and square. Even Lando said it. @/F1Conspiracies: He’s dodging the team orders talk because he doesn’t want to cause problems, but let’s be real—McLaren needs to sort their priorities. @/AntiTeamOrders: Lando acting like nothing happened when McLaren literally screwed him over lol. @/JustHereForDrama: He’s so media-trained. Wish he would just say what he actually thinks. ↳ @/McLarenStan: Or maybe he actually thinks Oscar deserved the win and doesn’t care about the radio stuff? @/HungaryGP2024: The real headline should be "Lando Norris beats Lewis Hamilton in an on-track battle," not whatever drama people are trying to stir up.

@/GridGossip: “He stood up when you lot wouldn’t.” 👀 Lando, bestie, you can’t just drop that and move on like it’s nothing. ↳ @/McLarenMafia: WHO didn’t have your back, Lando? Say names. ↳ @/F1Conspiracies: I wonder what that is about…and I have the bad feeling it’s the whole Lizzie situation… @/OversteerAndTea: So we’re all just supposed to ignore that Lando basically said McLaren didn’t back him up, huh? @/FormulaWhispers: What was going on behind the scenes that made Lando say that??? ↳ @/InsideThePaddock: Oscar has more backbone than people realize. Him going to bat for Lando is NOT nothing. @/F1InsiderTea: McLaren’s PR team is SWEATING right now. ↳ @/OrangeDrama: Like, are they just hoping we all move on??? Because I have QUESTIONS. @/PitWallMess: Oscar and Lando are such ride-or-dies for each other. It’s everyone else I’m side-eyeing. ↳ @/McLarenMasterplan: We need the full story. Spill, Lando. Spill. @/TeaAndTelemetry: Lando is never that blunt unless something seriously pissed him off. ↳ @/DataDorkF1: Oscar was the only one on his side and Lando made sure we knew it. That says A LOT.

@/DTSWriters: This better be a whole episode in the next Drive to Survive season because I NEED DETAILS.

@/OscarPiastriUpdates: This is the first time in history a driver has voluntarily unfucked a team’s strategy mid-race. Historic behavior.

@/TireDegEnthusiast: McLaren really thought they could manipulate their drivers like chess pieces and Lando just said ‘no ❤️’

@/F1TeaSpiller: This isn’t just about the race. That “Oscar stood up for me this week” line? Oh, Lando’s making a STATEMENT.

@/PurpleSectorStan: The way McLaren’s radio was DEAD SILENT after Lando gave Oscar the place back. They knew they fumbled.

****

The apartment was dimly lit when Lando stepped inside, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. He set his bag down by the door, stretching out his shoulders as he made his way toward the living room. Lizzie was curled up on the couch, her laptop open in front of her, but her fingers weren’t moving across the keyboard. Instead, she was watching him.

"Hey," he said, offering a weary smile as he settled down beside her. Her gaze trailed over him from head to toe, taking in every little detail. He'd never quite appreciated how perceptive she was before.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes and exhaling. For a few moments, silence filled the space between them. He could hear the hum of the laptop’s fan, the distant sound of cars from outside, the sound of their breathing.

Finally, Lizzie spoke. “You were brilliant this weekend.”

He cracked an eye open, looking over at her. She was watching him with something akin to awe, her expression almost reverent. He wasn’t quite sure what he did to warrant that look. “Was I?” he asked, trying for nonchalance but lacking even half of the energy to pull it off.

"McLaren 1-2," she told him softly, one hand reaching out to cup his jaw and he leant into her touch.

Yes. McLaren 1-2.

Not thanks to the team.

"I watched everything," Lizzie admitted quietly. "The radio. The interviews."

Lando inhaled sharply but sighed. "Figured you would," he told her.

She ran her thumb over his cheekbone, a simple touch that made his exhaustion recede just a fraction. "You were incredible," she repeated softly. "Even when you were getting screwed over on strategy and had every reason to be angry, you just..." She exhaled. "You handled it so well. You were incredible."

She hesitated for a moment. "Did...McLaren didn't have your back." It wasn't a question.

It shouldn't surprise him and it didn't. Liz was too smart for her own good. Of course, she would pick up on that. Just like the press had picked up on it, even when he hadn't outright said what it was, that had happened...people weren't dumb. They would put together the pieces into something resembling the truth.

Still.

Lando sighed, running a hand down his face. "Liz-"

She shook her head. "I thought...I don't know, that maybe they just wanted to take their time to handle things after Silverstone. But that's not what happened, is it?" she asked him softly.

Lando clenched his jaw, looking away. He didn't know how to explain it without making her feel worse.

Lizzie’s voice was quieter when she spoke again. “Did they… did they try to stop you from saying anything?”

He swallowed, trying to figure out how to answer. “I-” he stopped, biting his lip. Honesty was the best option, wasn’t it? He took a deep breath.

“They tried. It was...it was a bit of a clusterfuck.”

Lizzie’s breath hitched slightly. “And Oscar?”

Lando huffed a small, almost amused breath. “He blackmailed them.”

Lizzie blinked. “What?”

"He told them that if they didn't release a statement condemning the abuse, he'd go back to tweeting like he did for Alpine," he recounted with a snort.

Lizzie stared at him before bursting into a fit of giggles. She covered her mouth, trying to keep herself from laughing. Her laugh was like music to his ears and some of the tension left him.

He grinned at her. “Yeah. And you know the funniest part?”

Lizzie shook her head, biting down on the edge of her hand to suppress a laugh. She looked adorable like that, her cheeks flushed from her little bout of giggles, and he was struck with the sudden urge to wrap her up in a tight hug. So he did.

She melted into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder, her giggles muffled. It took her a moment to regain her composure, and she gave a little sigh, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What's the funniest part?”

Lando grinned, shaking his head a little. “It worked.”

Lizzie stared at him, mouth parted.

“He actually threatened a multimillionaire team with Twitter,” Lando snickered. “He threatened to unleash an online world war and they caved like that.” He snapped his fingers, making her laugh again.

Lizzie ducked her head, her shoulders shaking with suppressed snickers. “Oh my God.”

Lando laughed helplessly, pulling her back toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She was warm, her body pressed flush against his. He took a deep breath, the scent of her filling his nostrils.

Lizzie grew quieter and looked at him. "Did...did they...was it because of me?"

Lando felt something twist in his chest. “What?”

She swallowed. “Did all of this—did they hesitate because of me? Because I’m the one people were targeting?”

Lando immediately reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “No. No, Liz, don’t do that. Don’t make this your fault.”

She looked down at their intertwined fingers. “It just… feels like I made everything harder for you.”

Lando’s grip tightened. “You didn’t. They did. The people who went after you, the ones who treated you like shit—they’re the problem. Not you. Never you.”

Lizzie let out a shaky breath. “I just… I didn’t want this to be a thing. I didn’t want you to have to put out a statement or make it worse—”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Lando interrupted, his voice firmer now. “You shouldn’t have to explain yourself, or justify your existence, or convince people that you’re worthy of basic human decency. That’s not your job.”

Lizzie bit her lip, still looking uncertain.

Lando exhaled. “Liz, Oscar didn’t do that because of you. He did it because it was the right thing to do. Just like I spoke up because it was the right thing to do. And if McLaren didn’t have our backs, then that’s on them. Not on you.”

Lizzie nodded slowly, eyes shining. “I just hate that you had to fight for it.”

Lando lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

Lizzie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re stubborn.”

“You love it.”

She sighed. “I really, really do.”

He shifted a bit, pulling her onto his lap without thinking about it. She came without a second thought, settling on his thighs with ease. He wrapped his arms around her waist lightly, feeling the warmth of her seep into his skin.

She let out another shaky exhale, letting her head drop against his collarbone. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, wanting to soothe the worry out of her.

She felt so small in his arms. It made him want to cling to her, to shield her from the world and all of its bullshit. The urge to protect her was almost overwhelming.

"I made something while you were gone," she admitted, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Lando quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Lizzie hesitated for a second before reaching behind one of the couch cushions. When she turned back, she was holding something small in her hands—something that made Lando blink in surprise before bursting into laughter.

It was a tiny crochet version of Oscar Piastri.

Complete with a McLaren race suit and a little black and orange Pirelli cap.

Lando took the tiny Oscar from her hands, holding it up to inspect it. “No way.”

Lizzie grinned, a little sheepish. “I was stress-crocheting. And, well… given everything, I thought it was fitting.”

Lando laughed again, shaking his head as he turned the little figure in his hands. “He’s gonna lose his mind when he sees this.”

Lizzie smirked. “You think?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lando said. “He’ll pretend he doesn’t care, but he’ll be secretly obsessed with it.”

Liz looked pleased with herself. She leaned in to get a better look at the little figure in his hand. "I think it might be my best one yet," she told him with a smile.

Lando grinned, gently placing the little crochet Oscar on the coffee table before pulling her close again. Lizzie went easily. She draped her arms around his shoulders, her legs resting on either side of his. She draped herself against him like she always does, her body melting into his.

It had been a long few weeks. But somehow, sitting there with Lizzie—holding something she made with care, thinking about the people who had stood by them—it didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

***

Lando should have realised that it was going to happen one of these days.

So he wasn't that surprised, when the door to the McLaren Sim room swung open, and Oscar stepped in with a purpose. He barely acknowledged the engineers outside, his usual easygoing demeanor absent. The door clicked shut behind him, and the air in the room felt heavier.

Lando spun around in his seat, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Oscar’s eyes pinned him to the spot, laser-focused on his every move. Lando couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, but there was something serious in the set of his jaw and the gleam in his gaze.

“Hey,” Lando said cautiously. “What’s up?”

Oscar folded his arms, leaning against the wall. "I heard the radio."

Lando shifted in his seat, feeling the back of his neck prickle. “Yeah. That.”

Oscar didn't say anything, just watched him with a hawk-like gaze. It was making Lando’s nerves itch.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even. "So you heard all of it then, huh?"

Oscar nodded, his eyes never leaving Lando’s face. "Yeah. Every word."

Silence fell between them, thick and heavy. Lando fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the fabric. He knew Oscar was waiting for him to say something, but the words felt stuck in his throat.

Lando ran a hand down his face. “Look, mate—”

“I didn’t do anything special.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard by how bluntly Oscar said it. “What?”

Oscar pushed off the wall, shaking his head. “You made it sound like I did something extraordinary, like backing you and Lizzie was some massive thing. But it wasn’t, Lando. It was just the right thing to do.”

Lando didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at the dashboard of the sim rig, feeling the weight of the last few weeks pressing on his shoulders. “Look,” he finally said, “whether you think it was special or not, you had my back. And I need you to know that I’d do the same for you. Always.”

Oscar scoffed, almost amused. “I know that.”

“No, I mean it,” Lando insisted, standing up. “What happened in Hungary? That’s not how I want to race you. If I gain a position on you, I want it to be because I overtook you—not because the team screwed you over.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a small smirk. “Are you worried you won’t be able to overtake me without a little help?” he asked, a mocking tone in his voice.

Lando shot him a look. “You know that’s not what I mean, you muppet.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. "You know, It wasn’t exactly hard. Lizzie’s great. And you…” Oscar hesitated before adding, “You’re my teammate. That means something.”

Lando swallowed, something settling in his chest. “Yeah. It does.”

A moment passed, quiet but not tense. Then Lando leaned over, rummaging in his bag. “Anyway, I got you something.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “If this is some weird way to thank me, I swear—”

Lando pulled out a red-and-white packet and tossed it over.

Oscar caught it, glancing down. Tim Tams. His eyes immediately lit up. “No way.”

Lando grinned. “Figured your maiden win deserved a proper celebration.”

Oscar inspected the packet like it was the best gift he’d ever received. “Alright. You’re forgiven for embarrassing me on the radio.”

Lando smirked. “Knew that’d do the trick.”

Oscar was already tucking the Tim Tams under his arm when Lando pulled out something else.

“Oh, and—Lizzie made you this.”

He handed over a tiny crochet Oscar, decked out in a McLaren race suit with a perfectly detailed little Pirelli cap.

Oscar stared at it. “She made this?”

Lando nodded. “Yeah. She crochets when she’s stressed. Said she needed something to focus on.”

Oscar turned the tiny figure over in his hands, running a thumb over the stitches. It was absurdly detailed—clearly made with care.

“She really didn’t have to,” he muttered.

Lando shrugged. “You didn’t have to either. But here we are.”

Oscar glanced up, expression unreadable, before slipping the crochet figure into his pocket. “Well,” he said, smirking slightly, “at least I got Tim Tams out of it.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Never doing anything nice for you again.”

Oscar tore open the packet, popping a biscuit into his mouth. “Sure, mate. Whatever you say.”

***

YouTube Transcript - Belgian Grand Prix Fan Stage 

Interviewer: "Lando, Oscar, after Hungary, there was a lot of speculation about your dynamic, especially with the radio messages and post-race comments. Can you clarify—was there any tension?"

Lando: [shrugging] "We talked. We’re fine."

Oscar: [grinning] "Yeah, Lando even got me Tim Tams and a tiny crochet Oscar, so I think that settles it."

Interviewer: [laughing] "A tiny crochet Oscar?"

Lando: [smirking] "Yeah. Well, technically, Liz got it for him. She crochets when she’s stressed, and I guess Hungary was stressful."

Oscar: [holding up a hand] "For the record, it’s actually very impressive craftsmanship. It even has little details on the race suit."

Lando: [mock serious] "Yeah, she put more effort into it than McLaren did into our strategy."

Oscar: [choking on a laugh] "Jesus, Lando."

Interviewer: [laughing] "Okay, so no hard feelings?"

Lando: [firmly] "Oscar deserved that win."

Oscar: [grinning] "And now I have a tiny yarn version of myself to prove it."

Interviewer: "Alright, good to know things are all settled!"

Comments: 

@/F1Fanatic99: Crochet Oscar is probably better at strategy calls than McLaren. Just saying.

@/GridGossip: Someone better crochet a tiny Lando next so they can be besties IRL and in yarn form.

@/WheelToWheel: If Oscar doesn’t start bringing Crochet Oscar to every race, we’re gonna have a problem.

@/McLarenUpdates: Crochet Oscar is just proof that Lizzie is the best thing to ever happen to the McLaren garage.

@/EpilepsyAwareness: Imagine explaining to someone in 2018 that F1 Fandom would one day be obsessed with a crocheted version of Oscar Piastri.

@/SilverstoneStan: Crochet Oscar is a cultural reset. Every driver needs a tiny yarn version of themselves.

@/SpeedDemon19: New F1 tradition: every race winner gets a crochet version of themselves. Make it happen, FIA.

@/McLarenSuperFan: The fact that Lizzie made that is so cute. She really said 'supporting my boyfriend and his bestie through yarn.

@/MaxsOrangeArmy: Oscar got a trophy AND a tiny crochet version of himself? Peak career moment.

@/PitStopChaos: Lando’s next merch drop better include tiny crochet drivers or I’m rioting.

@/ChaosInTurn1: Lizzie is out here supporting Oscar more than McLaren did. Queen behavior.

@/F1Wifey: McLaren strategists should fear the WAGs, they have more team loyalty than half the pit wall.

@/WheelToWheelGirl: The fact that Lizzie crocheted through the McLaren strategy disaster is sending me. How much yarn do you think she used during Hungary?

@/RacingLogic: Oscar acting like a proud dad over his little crochet Oscar is the most wholesome thing to come out of this entire mess.

@/ToxicMcLarenFan: I NEED TO SEE THE TINY CROCHET OSCAR, PLEASE, OSCAR, I AM BEGGING.

@/SilverstoneElite: McLaren PR scrambling to figure out how to monetize Crochet Oscar as we speak.

@/PaddockInsider: Not Lando shading McLaren’s strategy while handing out handcrafted emotional support Oscars.

@/PitLaneDrama: The way Oscar is so proud of his tiny crochet self… we need a picture IMMEDIATELY.

@/FIAConspiracyTheories: Okay but McLaren better start strategizing as well as Lizzie crochets.

@/FastAndFearless: Petition for Lizzie to start selling crochet F1 drivers because I NEED ONE. @/McLarenPanicDepartment: Lando: ‘She crochets when she’s stressed.’ How much yarn does she go through dating him???@/MaraForPresident: LIZZIE MADE OSCAR A TINY CROCHET OSCAR??? SHE’S THE REAL MVP.

[the-magpie-archives]

Tips for writing London as a setting if you've never been there

London's a popular place to set a story! It's often imagined as sexy, cool, and suave. Whilst this is sometimes true, the thing that it predominantly is, is absolutely and entirely chaotic! So here are some aspects that you may not know about:

-Public transport is absolutely crucial to the infrastructure! Few people drive in London because of how well connected it is, and bus stops and train stations are often used as meeting points or details in directions.

-There's a LOT of crime, like, a lot. All cities have it, but London has a lot of variety. Stabbings are incredibly common (to the extent where it becomes a bit of a joke), almost everyone has a story where they've found or seen a dead body, and there are many money laundering/drug den fronts under the guise of highstreet shops (they're not well hidden).

-Despite it's chaos there's a strong code of etiquette most people hold themselves too. Some are actual rules (stand on the right side of escalators, don't queue jump) but some are simply social expectations (don't stop in the middle of the pavement, keep your bags close to your body, don't take up multiple seats.)

-A lot of tourists to the city are COMPLETELY FERAL and widely hated. They'll stand in the middle of the road, block up bridges, swing around cameras and selfie sticks in busy places, and completely ignore the social standards of polite society. People Do Not Like This. (also American tourists have a tendancy to just randomly start conversation with people? It's a bit weird and generally not done but it's not strictly a bad thing.)

-Rush hour is INSANE. We're talking almost static traffic, trains so packed that you're pressed into people on every side, buses that are so full they can't stop to let more people on. Some days it's better some days it's worse, but if you can avoid travelling at those times YOU DO.

-There are a lot of scam artists on the streets. Most major cities have these, they suck, they're aggressive, and they'll take your money! Some give you flowers and then force you to pay, some take photos of you and boost up the price to get them, there's always new ones, they're relentless, and you've gotta tell them to fuck off.

-Black cabs are not at all popular for normal people! They cater to tourists, rich people, and old people. They're great, the cab drivers are hard working and very knowledgeable, but they're also very expensive. Awful as it is, uber's cheaper if you're desperate, but buses go everywhere so it's just not really worth it.

[thecheshireprincess]

Writing prompt that came to mind was how would Chishiya take care of his pretty girl if she had a bad day cause I know he’d cheer you up

Bad Day

Chishiya x Reader (No pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Your best friend does what he knows to help you feel better after a bad day.

Content Warning: Possibly curse words; this is literally just fluff. Very tame for Talia, please be proud.

A/N: This is part one of two stories that I wrote for @potato-vagina's request; I wanted to show some fun character development with Chishiya pre and post-Borderland. Though you aren't necessarily his "pretty girl" here, you will be.

Find part two here! Proof of Life is a drabble that belongs somewhere between the two parts ❤️

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

That's Murphy's Law - a somber addage that you don't typically allow yourself to subscribe to. Usually, you're too positive of a person for that kind of thing. Today, however, you wish to find whoever Murphy is and curse him out for the shit day you were currently experiencing.

You'd overslept your alarm by thirty minutes, smacking your head off the bedside lamp in your rush to get up and ready. A piece of toast had burnt your hand, you missed the first two trains to get across the city to your nine AM class, and now you were caught in the rain without your umbrella; the item in question without a doubt still leaning forgotten next to the front door.

A shiver wracks through your body as you huddle under the small shelter of the bus stop, rain pelting heavily against the metal overhead. The bus is usually your absolute last choice for transportation, but right now it's the only thing that may still get you to your class on time. Surely your day has to turn around from here, right? You believe in the power of optimism - maybe if you can just focus your mind onto more positive things, the things around you will improve. Right.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot your bus approaching down the street and rush out of your temporary shelter to flag it down a little madly. You would not be missing the bus too. The driver blessedly pulls over to the side to let you on, but not without first splashing into a massive puddle you hadn't seen before; sending a wave of freezing cold, dirty rain water cascading over your form.

Perfect, just perfect. Now you will be miserable, cold, and wet for the rest of the day. And isn't that just what you needed? Forget the power of optimism. Today is a bad day.

With just three minutes to spare, you finally make it into the sprawling lecture hall, most of your classmates already seated and chattering happily amongst themselves. You toss your bag haphazardly down on the floor beside your seat, flopping into the stiff wooden chair with a long sigh. At least you had gotten your body to class - whether your mind would be capable of focusing on any material was a different question entirely.

Your blonde best friend turns to look at you from the seat next to yours, a smirk growing on his smug face as he takes in your soaked appearance. He raises an eyebrow quizzically, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the laminate table in front of him. Before he can get even a single snide comment out of his mouth, you put a trembling hand up. "Don't. Not today, I'm not in the mood," you mumble in warning, knowing exactly where this conversation would be heading if you didn't nip it in the bud.

Chishiya raises his hands in dramatic mock surrender, blinking slowly at you instead, waiting for you to continue. You always continued.

"I'm having the worst day ever," you lament, rubbing aggressively at your eyes with the heels of your hands and leaning back precariously in your rickety chair; not caring if it suddenly decides to break. That would just be your luck today. He nods, eyes narrowing as he continues to study you. "Seems like it," he deadpans, still tapping, still staring. Making no move to question you further or offer his condolences.

Realistically, you know better than to expect Chishiya to try to comfort you, especially over a series of events so trivial. Though he's been your best friend since starting medical school a few years ago, you don't dare assume he feels more for you than tolerance. That's just who he is, and you'd long ago accepted that from him. Most of all, he is not the sympathetic type.

So when your friend begins calmly packing up the notebooks and pens that had been laid out neatly in front of him, your jaw drops in surprise. Class hadn't even begun yet, let alone finished - where was he going? Your confused eyes rake over his careful movements as he packs up his school bag, willing your brain to catch up with him. Chishiya was always five steps ahead of you, and this time you didn't want him to leave you behind.

"Come with me," he mutters simply, leaving no room for arguing; the man standing from his seat and turning to leave the room. You scramble after him in shock, carelessly looping the strap of your bag over your arm. "Chishiya! We're skipping class? We shouldn't!" you whisper yell as to not attract attention to yourselves sneaking out the back.

He snorts before responding, continuing his smooth walk down the hallway to the exit. "You definitely shouldn't, you need the lecture more than me," he says derisively, not bothering to look back at you, "but one day won't hurt. Probably." You shoot him a glare for his comment, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. This was your worst class, after all, everyone knew that.

Chishiya hesitates a moment before opening the heavy glass door to the outside, looking back at you briefly as if considering something. He sighs, shrugging his beloved jacket off and holding it out to you without another word. Your jaw nearly hits the floor at this display of Chishiya caring about something other than himself, but choose not to comment for fear that it would break the illusion. You hurriedly wrap the soft jacket around you, the man's warmth soaking quickly into your chilled bones. "Thank you," you whisper, almost so quietly you aren't sure he even heard you; but the man nods once and proceeds to exit the building.

You continue your journey together in familiar silence - Chishiya isn't much of a talker even on a good day, and you're still hardly in the mood to beg for conversation from him. So you just follow him. You think you'd follow him to the end of the Earth if he asked you to.

An art museum. Chishiya had brought you to an art museum. To make you feel better? You weren't sure.

The blonde leads you masterfully through various sculptures and paintings, obviously having an exhibit in mind in the large, brightly lit space. When he stops you in front of a painting, you look at him in curiosity. Nearly disbelief. "The Mona Lisa?" you inquire, watching as Chishiya looks up at it almost reverantly, barely breathing.

After a brief moment of silence, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "There's really only been one thing in my life that has ever incited curiosity in me . . ." he begins, tone hushed but steady, "For some reason, the first time I laid eyes upon this painting, I couldn't look away. Still can't," he says with another sharp breath out, something akin to a chuckle for the man. His eyes never once leave the painting to look at you or anywhere else.

"I just wanted someone to understand me back then. I didn't think I'd ever have that from an actual person." He tilts his head now at the painting, as if he were looking at something completely different than he remembered. A comfortable silence blankets over the two of you as your breaths and hearts sync.

You turn to study your friend, seeing him through a different lens in this place - his safe place. His safe place, where he felt understood for the first and maybe only time in his life. His safe place, that he was sharing with you to help you feel better on a bad day. You feel your breath catch in your throat at the realization, that maybe. Just maybe. Chishiya did like you beyond just tolerating your presence. Because why would a man like him ever bother to tolerate a person if he didn't need to? I didn't think I'd ever have that from an actual person. Did he mean . . .?

He leads you to sit on a marbled bench in front of the painting, a place you guessed he'd probably spent a lot of time in his life. You could almost see the ghost of younger Chishiya in the room, searching for something among the colorful strokes of paint. You hope he found it. A wave of calm rushes over you sitting here in the quiet gallery, surrounded by nothing and no one except Chishiya and the Mona Lisa. The small pains of your morning begin to easily melt from your mind, a pleasant warmth radiating through your body despite your clothes and hair still being damp.

Suddenly, things click into place. You get it. Chishiya wasn't expecting to make your day better by showing you the Mona Lisa. He was making your day better by sharing a piece of himself with you. Because you get him. You sigh contentedly, a tiny grin on your face, letting your focus drop briefly into your lap to consider your next move.

After a few more moments of easy silence and introspection, you finally make a bold decision. "Thank you for understanding what I needed today," you whisper, laying your head gingerly against his shoulder with a smile as you follow his gaze back up to study the painting.

You don't see it, but the corners of Chishiya's lips quirk up slightly as his heart skips a beat in his chest. His now enigmatic smile rivals even that of the one he'd studied for years.

Mutual understanding. With you.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Part Two

Masterlist

Everything Tag List: @potato-vagina @28361573 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ghostly-xxo @monkey4lifer @trinibadgyal @izzybizzyk

Chishiya Tag List: @kimsrie @jjkxxy

As always, please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of my tag lists! You can specify if there's a character you like or if you want to see everything. Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[multiheadcanons]

AS OF WRITING THIS POST; I’M GOING ON HOLIDAY!! THE MERCS GOING ON A ROAD TRIP IN ONE COMPANY BUS

scout: driver number one. responsible, gets them out of the tiny towns with the overly aggressive cops quickly. everyone takes turns on the aux. he does like to munch on something come hour four, but he tries not to go through drive thrus, and only stops for bathroom breaks if a majority of the team needs a break from the road. likes to get small trinkets on his travels. takes heavy’s seat when it’s his turn to drive, then takes sniper’s seat when heavy returns for his spot. thanks for keeping his seat warm, scout.

soldier: he’s the human energy drink that forcibly keeps everyone awake on the bus until he himself falls asleep. this isn’t until 9PM, generally. everyone has had to learn to bring something to drown him out. one time they tried to duct tape his mouth shut and he ate the tape. so they just let him yap until he’s satisfied. he also found that if he can shut the fuck up for like ten minutes, the drive will put him to sleep. needs semi-frequent breaks to stretch his legs or he starts popping like bubble wrap. likes to go through drive thrus. sits directly behind the driver.

pyro: permanently asleep unless the bus stops. the second the bus stops they are up and asking what’s going on, stretching their legs, shaking out what jitters they have from being cooped up in their seat for so long. they like to pull over and look at the sights sometimes, but they’re never the one driving to get to make that choice, but if they happen to be awake and speak up in time, the drivers will normally oblige for them. trinket and gift shop knick knack hoarder. situates themselves in one of the back rows, but not the very back.

demo: generally by the emergency window. if he prods soldier enough, he can get the man to sit next to him and he puts himself on the soldier distraction squad. he is more than happy to not be a designated driver, because now he just brings a flask, and as long as they don’t get pulled over he is not worried at all about whether they’re getting ticketed for that. immensely humorous, and equally loud as the american, he likes to play a lot of road games to keep his mind busy. falls asleep about halfway through the trip, but is awake for the final stretch.

heavy: driver number two, and inclement weather driver. heavy is seated in the very back, and is reading until he falls asleep along the back row. he is not to be bothered until it is his turn to drive, or if a random severe storm just blew in and it’s time for him to take the helm and get them out of there unscathed. very quiet the entire time, unless asking for directions or answering questions. most likely to stop through a drive through, and in general a very courteous driver as long as you ask nicely. the most time is added to the trip when heavy is the driver.

engineer: usually located behind demo to sneak sips off whatever demo brought. engineer is designated emergency driver. engie only touches the wheel if scout, heavy, or sniper died under sudden and mysterious circumstances. this has never happened, and by god it fuckin’ better not. he is also the only merc who is awake the entire trip. he doesn’t sleep well on any mode of transportation. it gives him weird and disturbing dreams. so he’s just up the whole time.

medic: seated across from demo unless heavy is driving. then he gets to partake in his ultimate privilege of being the Designated Passenger Princess. that is his favorite part. he moves to the very front, and gives heavy directions and slowly manipulates him into adding an entire two hours to the drive from the sheer amount of stops. he doesn’t even want anything, he’s just wanting to add more time to the clock. though, when he’s not being a vehicular and navigational menace, he’s just reading a book he brought with him, annotating shakily with a pencil. he also doesn’t sleep, but he will never be allowed to drive unless everyone else is dead.

sniper: driver number three, and night driver, normally. snipes sleeps until about halfway through heavy’s shift at the wheel. he just stands on the bus and stretches and walks back and forth in the aisle. nobody really cares, and this has only backfired on him once. and him busting his ass after heavy came to a hard brake wasn’t enough for him to think twice about doing that in the future. because he’s taking the night shift on the wheel, most of the team is asleep, and he is speeding like a bat out of hell to get them back on time. but his handling is so smooth nobody actually realizes what’s happening.

spy: emergency driver for when they commit a crime. if the bus gets pulled over, spy takes the driver’s seat and gets them the fuck out of dodge. spy has what can only be called a supernatural ability to outrun the police. you could drop him in a location completely unknown to him and tell him “the police are ten meters away from your location and rapidly approaching” and he’s immediately found the airport and booked his ticket. it is insane how quickly this man can avoid the steel grip of the law. otherwise, he is also reading a book, annotating, and occasionally dozing off in his seat. located near the back, across from pyro if the seat is available.

[kopypate]

Idea: Ghost taking an opportunity to teach reader not to kick up such as fuss Warning: Implications of noncon/dubcon, aggressive acts towards reader, implied stalker! Ghost

“God, my back is killing me,” you whisper to yourself and stroke your back in a self-soothing manner even though it makes no difference.

Another, grueling 12-hour shift at a job with little pay and you were ready for it to be over with. Another day of angry callers, uncomfortable chairs and an unsatisfying hour lunch. You consciously straighten out your posture while waiting at the nearest bus stop, trying to ignore the slight ache present. All you could think about was heading home and popping open the new bottle of wine you had sitting on your counter. Maybe even watch a cheesy movie or two before letting sleep take you early tonight. 

Looking down and checking the time on your phone, you immediately look back up, hearing the hiss of the bus as it comes to a stop, ready to pick up its next set of passengers. Or, well, just you today. Surprisingly, it’s mostly only you and the random, one-off person sitting on the bench beside you. It’s not uncommon for other people to be present, but there’s barely any recurring characters that you take note of. Or maybe there is, you never really bothered to pay attention. 

You quickly board the bus and mentally praise whatever higher being that it only has one more stop before your location. Something you were always glad for but could have never been more grateful for with your body aches being a constant reminder. 

You sit near the back of the bus noting there’s only three others including the bus driver, nice. Relaxing back into the seat, you gaze outside the window and take in the scenery, content with giving your eyes a bit of rest from staring into a bright computer screen all day. Minutes pass until the bus finally reaches the next stop. You look up just in time to note the tall, looming man donning a black balaclava with a white skull over it. As soon as he stepped in, it was almost as if he managed to take up every bit of space in the vehicle. Jesus. His body had to be the embodiment of one of those Greek soldiers. His muscles showed clearly through his tight shirt, his thighs, massive and big, veiny hands that could probably crush a watermelon with no effort. The pinnacle of physical physique and definitely not someone you want to mess with.

 You quickly look away, adjusting yourself in the seat hoping to avoid contact with the man whose presence quickly made the air in the bus tense. 

He stalks down the walkway of the bus in a slow manner, taking his time, not caring to quickly be seated. The bus driver certainly wouldn’t say anything, him being as equally intimidated by the man as you. Despite it being on a tight schedule, whatever this man had going on simply wasn’t worth the trouble.

 Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head in your direction. Shrinking down in your chair, you cover your eyes with your hand and hope your items in the seat next to you gives him the hint. You almost break your neck doing a double, seeing him clearly beeline towards you before turning your head completely in the opposite direction, praying you didn’t draw any attention to yourself. Of course, that speck of hope quickly fades when you see him standing right next to you, peering down at you with dark eyes. 

He looks down at you for a moment before gruffing down at you. “Gonna’ move that?” The man says slowly with a lazy look in his eyes.

You clear your throat and quickly move your things from the seat and place them on your lap. Sitting down, the man folds his arms together and spreads his legs wide resulting in you scooting over and leaning your knees to the side so as to not touch his. The bus pulls off once more and you mentally scoff, his action agitating you but still noting the fact that this man is well, scary as shit. 

Still, you slightly turn your head, shifting your eyes over to find that he’s staring right back at you with the amount of intensity as a predator eyeing its prey. His head fully turned towards you with not a care in the world, looking right into you. Until finally he looks away and places his arm on the back of the seat. Scrunching your nose you gather your nerves.

“Do…do you need something?” You question carefully saying your words as if he were to pounce on you at any given moment. He slowly shifts his half-lidded eyes towards you and moves his arm from the back of the seat to your knee. You instinctively jerk but barely move, his hand keeping it down and gives you a firm squeeze.

“Jus’ wanted to take a seat next to a pretty thing”, his eyes show no sign of emotion, but you can almost hear a faint lick of amusement in his voice. Mocking you almost. This thought angers you before you give his hand a particularly harsh shove off your knee before you move to get up, not caring if the bus was in motion or not.

 You yelp as you feel the strange man grab your wrists, tugging on it and pulling you down towards him. You fall halfway back into your seat and his lap as you accidentally plant your arm across his thighs so as to not tumble down any further. He grabs the scruff of your neck, holding you in place as he inches down enough for his lips to graze the shell of your ear. Feeling his hot breath on you causes an army of goosebumps to rise on your body while an almost cold shiver runs down your spine. You feel yourself stop breathing for a second until you finally take a gasp of air only now truly registering the position you’re in. 

You open your mouth to scream before he squeezes your neck, digging his fingers into your skin, almost enough to draw blood as the indents from his nails deepen. “I wouldn’ do that if I were you.” You don’t reply and he takes this as an opportunity to continue. “A girl like you shouldn’ be kicking up this much of a fuss in public, seems you need to be taught some manners.”

Opening and closing your mouth, you’re at a loss for words but try your hardest to push them out. “Excuse me? I..I don’t understand. I’m sorry…” Your voice exasperated but weakening to a mere whisper.

“Not too bright are you, Pet? Thas’ fine, we can work on that.” You fearfully look up to finally meet his face and you almost seem to notice the grip on your neck weaken a bit as tears well in your eyes. This is short lived as his grip quickly tightens once more and you shut your eyes and wince. 

“Ple-please if it’s money, you, you can take whatever you want,” you say, your voice shaky and still below a whisper. He slightly shakes his hand in almost a disappointed fashion, like a parent scolding their child. He pulls you back, tourists your back against your seat and leans over to make sure you’re both face-to-face. 

“I don’t think you get it, pet,” he spits out and gives your head a bit of a shake, “But you don't need to.” He finally looks away from you as the bus comes to a stop and your close to home. You could almost cry tears of joy. Almost. He has yet to take his hand off you, still firmly planted on your neck. He suddenly stands up, dragging you with him as you struggle to gather your things.

“What are you doing!” You squeal out, now walking down the aisle of the vehicle. You look around the bus only to find the only other passenger and driver with their heads hanging low as to reduce the chances of meeting your eyes. He harshly shoves you off the bus causing you to almost trip in the process before he takes you right in the direction of your home. The streets were dark and empty, the only lighting available being the dim, flickering streetlights that desperately need fixing. 

The way he easily navigated to your apartment had you reeling in fear with all sorts of thoughts running through your head. You had tried to dig your heels in the concrete earlier but that resulted in the rest of your fight leaving your body as he placed a tight, painful grip through your hair along with a sharp warning glance down at you. As you approached the door of your apartment, you felt him let go and look at you, expectantly. You don’t move and he doesn’t say a word. The only noise coming from the sniffles and heaves you make as fat tears roll down your cheeks.

The man low guttural sound, reminiscent a dog growling before he puts his hand down your purse, taking out your keys and shoving them in your hands. He looks back at you once more before you take the hint and shakily puts the key in, opening the door. He gives you one last harsh shove in the door as he slams it shut behind him. You scramble to gain your composure before moving far back to create a bit of distance between you and the beast before you. He gives you a slight glare, seemingly agitated by your movements. Rolling his neck and letting a resounding pop fill the air he looks back at you before walking forwards. Heavy footsteps feel as though they echo through the room, and you feel as if you can’t move an inch.

Finally, the man whose name is still a mystery to you finally closes in, your ragged breaths and trembling spurring him on. He looks down at you, as if looking at dirt beneath his feet before you hear words that make the world slow around you. Something that causes your body, hot with anxiety and fear, to run cold.

“Think it’s time for you to learn some manners.” 

[revluvzen]

[❤️‍🔥💪] "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱?" [💪❤️‍🔥]

top!Lucas/Wong Yukhei x bottom!male reader

---

WC: 2,4

Genre: Smut. MINORS DNI

Tags: Lucas is a college heartrob, Lucas looks like out of FraternityX, college classmates, friends-to-lovers / fwb, blowjob, "bro" to "slut" but still "bro", low-key rough sex (deepthroat, throat fucking), car sex, semi public sex, tricking into sex.

All individuals consent.

Enjoy!

---

Lucas is your hot, stereotypically jock classmate on some of your college classes. It's simply unavoidable falling in love with him. Every day since your classes started, he comes talk to you, his "bro", always with that cute goofy smile.

Today's one of those regular class days. Lucas is looking very handsome today, as usual. Black hoodie, gray sweatpants, and running shoes. Typical attire for him. "Hey, bro!", you greet him, him taking out his Airpods to get ready to chat with you, sitting next to you in the classroom. "Ayo! Wassup", he asked, his goofy smile charming you. "Ahh, just ready for another boring class". "Same here...", Lucas replied.

Class started, and you just can't avoid staring at Lucas often, just like you do every single class. He looks so hot, chewing gum, checking on his phone because he's getting tired of the class... taking the minimum notes he could take of whatever the professor is talking about. He's so tall, so sexy... His tan skin, full lips, sharp jawline, those big eyes... you just can't believe such a handsome guy is your friend. Could that change?

Class finished. Such a good day so far, you guys talked a lot in the break, having some good laughs with your friends. Time to go home now. Lucas had an out of usual proposal today. "Yo, uhm, I brought the car today, and I need to drive towards your place direction. I can offer you a ride, wanna hop in?", he asked, goofily smirking like always.

"Ohh, sure, thanks mate", you replied, excited. What better to spend some time with your friend at his car? This is new for you, he usually just drives towards the other direction, and you have to take the bus. You both leave the building and go to the campus' parking lot, where you see Lucas' car. "Here we go, hop in champ", he said, giggling. You replied with a smile, opened the door and got on the co-pilot seat, then closing the door. Lucas got on the driver's seat, and closed his door

Surprisingly, he didn't start the engine. You took some long seconds to realise, as you were checking your phone for a bit. When you turn your head to look at him, he's smirking at you. "What happens?" you ask, nervously smiling. "You think I don't notice when you look at me in class?", he asks, pressing the button to lock the doors. "W-What do you mean?", you ask, a bit shyly as you acknowledge the fact you do check on him often.

"You like me. You're in love with me, don't you?", he keeps asking. You don't answer anything, looking down. "Don't be shy... you can tell me. I won't judge you. I'm into boys sometimes as well. Don't be afraid", he kept telling you.

"Y-Yeah, I guess I do... I like you...", you answer. "Right...", Lucas sighs, nodding. He then suddenly grabs you by your nape, pulling you into a short kiss. His big lips smooches yours, so quick you can't even get to close your eyes. "W-What~", you stutter, before staring at Lucas for a second and then going back kissing him, this time making out already.

Lucas guided all the kiss, first softly biting your lips and then starting to pu his tongue into your mouth, to which you reply by doing the same. Your tongues dance inside of each other's mouth. "Mgmgh~", you moan inside of Lucas mouth, loving each part of it. You just can't believe you're kissing your crush and friend... and it's as good as you expected it.

You guys keep making out for long minutes, Lucas way of kissing getting a bit more aggressive and horny, starting to bite a bit more rougher your lips and putting his tongue deep into your mouth, making you moan quietly and squirm.

Lucas stops kissing you but keeps his face very close to you. "Y/N", he says, with his characteristic deep voice, staring at you with his big handsome eyes. You stare at him and reply: "W-What... did I do something wro-".

"Have you ever had sex?", Lucas said, interrupting you. Shivers run through your body when you heard that. Is what you've been waiting for ages finally going to happen? You get a bit shocked but find some breath to reply. "N-No, Y-Yukhei...", you reply. awaiting for Lucas reaction.

"Let's see if we can fix that...", Lucas said, smirking and starting to caress near your crotch. Right afterwards, he goes back on making out with you. You also caress his thighs, but get a bit more daring. You try putting a hand over his crotch, and you notice that Lucas' bulge is getting rock hard.

One of Lucas hands starts caressing your butt, to which you let him do because you're liking it. You start feeling the passion of the moment in your chest, a sentiment of euphoria bubbling inside of you. You start grabbing and kneading Lucas's bulge, loving how hard it's getting. You feel Lucas low groans inside of your mouth while you two keep on making out passionately.

At some point Lucas pulled out again, and stared at you just like he did previously. He whispered lower this time. "Y/N... Come over and suck me off... would you like to?", he said, outspoken like the bad boy he is. You had to get daring to reply to such proposal, thinking about how you're about to lose your virginity to your hot friend...

...specially when you two are in a car in the campus parking lot. "L-Lucas, what if someone sees tho...", you say, looking around. It's true that there's not people around currently, but you can see people walking far away. "Don't worry, Y/N... If you kneel in front of me, no one will see. The windows are high enough and the pedals are behind enough for someone to fit", he said, sounding strangely logical. "Have you done this before...", you asked suspiciously. "Uhm do you want to have sex or not-", he says, wanting you to ignore that. "Y-Yes, sorry", you reply, nervously smirking.

You get over the controls of the car and go knee in front of Lucas. He was right, your feet barely touch the pedals and head ends up right below of the windows. Lucas put a tiny pillow on the floor so your knees don't hurt. "Thanks...", you sigh. "No worries. Now, unzip it...", he says, staring at you from above. Fuck, he looks so hot like that. Legs spreaded, his big bulge showing, and his handsome face sexily staring at you from above. You're so thrilled...

You unzip Lucas pants, and lower his boxers just enough so his dick sticks out. You're shocked despite it being just like you expected it... A 23cm thick cock, veiny and tan like his body, trimmed pubes and slightly curved. You do a hard swallow when you see it, wondering how you'll make it to suck it all. "B-Bro, you're very... like... hung like a horse, d-damn...", you say, your voice trembling a bit. Lucas giggled quietly. "That's what everyone says", he jokes. "You can go at your own pace, don't worry".

You grab Lucas cock. It's very warm and soft. You can't lie, it looks tasty as fuck... You stroke it a bit to get it as hard as it can. It's the first time you touch a dick that's not your own... it feels so good already. "You can start licking it", Lucas suggests, to which you finally do. You put your tongue in the cock's tip and start swirling it around, then going up and down licking all his shaft as if it were a lollipop, making sure to get it wet with your saliva.

You then slowly take Lucas cock in your mouth, almost halfway through. It tastes so good indeed, you already have an obsession for it. You suck it happily, but kind of concerned about how will you do to take the bottom half of the cock if Lucas asks you to deepthroat him.

Lucas moans in pleasure, enjoying how good you are sucking him. "That's it, fuck... Keep sucking it...", he groaned. You kept sucking it good, your lips fully kissing and taking Lucas' big cock, tasting all his flavourful flesh. You slapped this tip on your tongue, trying to give him such a good blowjob.

You kept sucking his dick, up and down and swirling your tongue in it. "Do you like it, Y/N?", he asked, sexily. "Y-Yeah... I'm loving it...", you said, jerking him off for a second and then going back sucking him. "So fucking good... You're almost like a natural cocksucker... Woah... You're doing it amazingly... Look at me while you suck me", he ordered. Being called a cocksucker really turned you on, you complied with him and stared at him while keeping on sucking his big dick. "Just like that, yeah~", he groaned.

You can hear the voices of some students nearby. They are probably gonna get on their cars. You stop sucking him just in case they're close enough they can see. Lucas didn't agree tho. He grabbed you by your nape and forced you back on his cock, now making you suck him even deeper than before. "Don't worry, they aren't close enough, they won't see anything. Keep sucking, fuck", he said, enjoying it so much.

"Damn, from all the sluts I've gotten in here, you're the one of the better ones already...", Lucas sexily groaned, looking at your eyes. Despite you being his friend, it looks like he now can't stop seeing you as one of his fuckmates. It didn't help that, the moment he called you a slut, you just started taking his dick even deeper into your mouth, almost taking it entirely. "Fuck, fuck, just like that, yeah~", he said, while you jerked off the base of his dick.

Lucas started thrusting slowly upwards, now fucking your mouth. Your gag reflex activated, some saliva starting to leak out of your mouth. Nevertheless, you got used to it, and were able to take his thrusts. Lucas dick feels so fucking good inside of your mouth, you just don't want to ever leave from his dick. You're addicted. And he loves it as much as well.

"F-Fuck, if I knew you were this good sucking cock I'd have taken you here earlier, fuck", Lucas said, grateful of having tricked you into getting into his car planning to fuck you good already. "Now I'm gonna push your head so you take it all inside okay? Take a deep breath, bro", Lucas said and you nodded. He grabbed you by your hair and pushed your head deep into his cock, making you deepthroat his 23cm dick all inside of your mouth. You start gagging, some tiny tears coming out of your eyes as it was too much to take.

"You like it, don't you? Huh? Tell me, come on bro, fucking tell me", he groaned, thrusting upwards while you deepthroated him. You obviously couldn't answer; yet, you tried. "MgmghMGGH-", was all you could say. Honestly it wasn't a surprise to you that Lucas liked it rough... you actually liked it as well. You loved how such big cock tasted in your mouth, it was all you've been longing for so much time, having your friend's dick all inside of you.

Lucas let you take off his dick out of your mouth, letting you breath. You kept stroking him off while you heavily exhaled. You looked at him and smiled, letting him know how much you're loving it. Then, you went suck his cock again, now sucking it up and down thoroughly.

Both Lucas and you got very euphoric. The car got filled with dirty sounds such as your sloppy noises and moans and Lucas groans and dirty talking. You love your friend's dick so much you just can't stop sucking it, and that's having an effect on Lucas. His dick started throbbing, and you could feel that in your mouth.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna fucking come, you bitch, fuck, I can't believe how of a fucking good cocksucker you're~ keep taking all my dick, bro, come on", he said, thrusting upwards while you sucked him good. You can feel the tip of his dick in the back of your throat, tasting his flesh, and his bitter precum flavoring all your mouth.

"I don't like cleaning my car, you better swallow it, okay?", he said, his voice breaking as his groans got louder. Let's hope there's no one around. Even if you're well hidden, Lucas dirty talking couldn't avoid getting loud and noticeable. You nodded happily to what Lucas said, sucking his dick so good and awaiting for his cream.

Lucas finally came inside of your mouth. Fuck, it's a fucking lot of cum. Warm, thick, plentiful and bitter cream spurted inside of your mouth, some directly getting down your throat, while his throbbing dick is still inside. You start swallowing, the closing and opening motions of your throat satisfying Lucas so much it even milks his until the very last drop.

You swallow most of his cum, leaving some in your tongue. Lucas takes his dick out of your mouth, and leaves it over your face. You can feel the whole weight of his fat long dick all across of your face. "Show me your tongue, now", he ordered, smirking, to which you showed him your tongue with some remains of cum still there. "Fuck, I never thought I'd finally see my friend taking all my cum like that. Call this a friendship strengthening pact", he giggled, goofy as ever. "Now seriously, I wish this happened earlier. You're such a good fucking fuckmate, gosh, I never expected you to be this good at sucking dick", he softly and sexily whispered, keeping on with the sexy atmosphere. "And I never expected your dick to feel this good, I loved it, Yukhei...", you whispered.

Lucas leaned over to kiss you, you both swapping saliva and his own cum in a passionate and sloppy kiss. You both make out for a long while. Everything is different now. You're not a virgin anymore, you lost your virginity to the your friend you've been attracted to for so long... And your friendship is not going to ever be the same. It's just going to get better from now on.

Lucas pulls out, a string of saliva mixed with cum falling in between you both. "You haven't come yet, did you?", he asked sexily. "N-No, I haven't...", you replied. "It's not a good first time until you get to cum, bro", he said, softly smacking your butt...

Part 2?

[kimakento]

LOVE CUES

synopsis: being stuck on the side of the road while it’s raining isn’t an ideal situation to be in, that is if you don’t get to meet a cute barista in the coffee shop across from you. ⌙ 1.5k

pairing: barista!asakura jo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

tags: coffee shop!au, jo’s teased throughout, he’s just really cute!, loserish!jo, [no warnings except language]

author’s note: this is for the loser jo truthers (aka me) heres my gift to lunes for the new years !

a driver’s license definitely would’ve come in handy right about now; but that thought still didn’t make you want to kill byun euijoo any less. what kind of person promises their friend a ride while caught in horrible rain but then backtracks when needed most?

clutching your handbag closer, you sighed while slinking back into the slightly-uncomfortable bench at the bus shelter you took cover under. there was no noise except for the sound of droplets padding against the concrete pavement aggressively — which you took as background noise — and the whirring of the occasional car passing by. a frown tugged at your lips as the cold and harsh december wind bit at your body.

curse you for only caring about a perfect outfit instead of bringing a winter coat.

you really needed to find somewhere to go. glancing around through the heavy rainfall, you spotted a quaint building, only one floor high; a cafe, you had read from the sign. it stood across the road, barely visible through the relentless droplets of rain. the lights of the coffee shop were on and there was a man — you figured by the tall stature — a mop in his hand while cleaning the floor.

surely, you could reach it without getting too wet, you thought to yourself. after collecting your things, you decided to beeline it to the coffee shop.

ignoring the raindrops falling against your skin, you only wrapped your arms around your torso in an attempt to combat the cold whilst crossing the wet street. when you stepped inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy, almost like a hug. there was an apparent smell of coffee beans, water dripping from your clothes and grouping into small puddles onto the shining floor.

the tall man you’d spotted from earlier had his apron-tied back turned to you; headphones on and clearly swaying to whatever he was listening to. you could only watch as a puddle grew beneath your boots before being caught by surprise when he whirled towards you, his body jolting in shock.

crimson painted his cheeks when he registered your presence.

you spoke up. “so sorry for scaring you, it’s just that it was….” using your finger, you gestured to the rain. as you trailed off, you took in the sight of the worker. he was cute. so cute. and tall.

very much your type. oh, you were so doomed.

“you’re drenched! oh my gosh.” those were the only words that left his parted lips before disappearing through a door behind the counter.

“oh.” you let out a sigh in confusion, standing there awkwardly; probably akin to a wet cat.

but before you could glance around any more, the now-headphoneless man returned, with something — a towel, you believed — in hand.

a weak smile tugged at his pretty lips as he handed it to you. “here! sorry for making you wait long….” a hand went up to rub the nape of his neck in embarrassment. “please, sit down.” he said, guiding you to the table closest to the door and pulling a chair.

once you were seated, you wrapped the towel around your body tightly.

“thank you so much for the towel….” you trailed off, squinting your eyes to try and read the letters on the nametag pinned to his apron. “jo! i really needed it.”

at the sound of his name, jo averted his gaze to his shoes. a pretty girl saying his name aloud was too much for his heart. he was so hopeless.

“u-uh, of course..” he mumbled out.

seconds later, his eyes returned to yours curiously. “coffee or hot chocolate?”

“huh?” your teeth chattered as you spoke.

“you’re shivering. a hot drink is good for the cold, you know. it’s easy to get sick, especially in this weather.” his words came out slowly, but you could still feel the warmth in his tone.

why did this barista have to be so cute? the thought repeated in your mind.

“in that case, a hot chocolate would be ideal.” you replied back, equally soft. “how much is it?”

“oh no! i can’t let you pay. consider it on the house!” jo smiled, to which you thought was the most adorable thing ever.

“really? i can’t even begin to thank you, you’re so kind.”

“just trying to help.” he tried to reply nonchalantly.

but that was a lie; he thought you were so pretty. the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. jo was anything but nonchalant around pretty girls.

the towel had helped relieve the uncomfortable feeling of damp clothes sticking to your bare skin, you were beginning to feel warmer now. your gaze followed the barista as he returned to the counter.

“one hot chocolate coming up.” he said before working the machines.

you scrolled on your phone while you waited, replying to the copious amounts of apology texts send by euijoo; sighing in annoyance before replying. too immersed in the conversation, you hadn’t realised that jo had already finished and was currently standing over you.

“oh, sorry.” you apologised and slipped your phone back into your handbag, watching as he set the steaming cup of hot chocolate and another plate — a croissant that you obviously didn’t order — down.

you smiled at his thoughtfulness. “no way i’m eating it for free. how much for the croissant?”

“it’s on the house too, don’t worry.” he shot you a small smile back, fixing the pencil behind his ear.

“no, really.” you insisted once again.

the barista shook his head firmly. “it’s the least i can do. you looked hungry.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in faux confusion at the last part.

“u-uh… i didn’t mean it like that. you don’t look hungry — fuck. you look really pretty if anything. i can’t believe i said that.” he fiddled with his hands, refusing to meet your gaze.

when you noticed his ears got redder at every word, you let out a giggle. “it’s fine, i got what you were trying to say.”

“oh, that’s good then.”

“thank you again. i really thought i was going to freeze out there, you know. one of my friends canceled on me.”

raising the croissant to your parted lips, you took a big bite, savouring the taste.

“did you make this? it’s really good!” you covered your mouth as you spoke, eyes glistening. and jo couldn’t help but be enamoured with you more in that exact moment.

shyly, he nodded.

“i sometimes help out with the baking. i’m really glad you like it…” he trailed off, looking at you with an expectant expression painting his face.

that was when you realised he was still standing in front of you and began to scramble to take your belongings off of the chair in front of you, gesturing to it kindly.

”no, i couldn’t.” he said, moving his hands around. “i… i have to work anyways.”

you pinched the bridge of your nose. “you’re not gonna make me beg, are you? please. i could really use the company.” you smiled up at him.

after a few seconds, he relented, pulling the chair and plopping down. his posture was stiff; shoulders fixed and hands beneath the table — probably clasped together, you thought.

was he always this awkward around new people? it was cute.

“jo, if you keep staring, i’m gonna think there’s something on my face.”

“it’s just that…. you’re really pretty.”

it was your turn to freeze, face heating up. you never expected him to be that straightforward.

“i think you are too…” you said, hurriedly taking a sip of the forgotten hot chocolate in embarrassment. however, the second it reached your tongue, it burned. letting out a small yelp, you placed the cup onto the table once again, covering your face more.

the man scrambled up, reaching over and cupping your face. “are you okay?” he asked hurriedly, his voice more louder than it’d ever been. jo moved your chin up as concern filled his eyes. “i should’ve warned you.”

you learned something about jo at that moment. his hands were surprisingly warm.

and that he smelled good.

“that was my fault. it’s hot chocolate after all.”

you gazed up at him, mesmerised. he was really more handsome up close. it was your peering eyes that snapped him back, jo snatched back his hands apologetically, obviously embarrassed.

“sorry, it’s just that i—” he started.

you cut him off quickly, very much flattered with his rambling. “could i have your number?”

“huh…? oh.”

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” you assured.

“no, i want to!”

as you passed your phone to him, he gave another small smile before inputting the digits. shortly after receiving it back, you heard a ping.

it was euijoo.

a frown tugged at your lips. “i have to go. my ride is here.” you announced sadly.

grabbing your stuff, you got up.

“thank you for the free food, i really enjoyed meeting you, jo. i hope we can meet again.”

the barista stood up, his gaze stuck on his shoe. he wanted to say something.

only when you turned around to leave did he talk.

“i’d really like it if you’d let me take you out.” his tone was still soft, but something seemed different. when you turned to meet his eyes, you were shocked to see him already staring at him.

“i would love that. text me soon?”

he nodded slowly to which you giggled at before leaving the shop but not before waving enthusiastically.

now jo had something — or someone, rather — to look forward to in these drab days.

reblogs are appreciated!

net: @lune-net

[palmerpillled]

hi. i dont go here but I wanna talk.

imagine being Josef Newgarden, 13 and after trying a few sports and not being too good at any, you starting karting, you immediately pick up four titles. you love it. you travel to europe and become the first american to get a Formula Ford Festival title. Europe is harsh to you and in 2011 you return back to america. Something about the home soil fuels you and you win an Indy lights championship. you get into indycar the next year.

meanwhile, across the world in New Zealand, Scott Mclaughlin becomes the youngest driver to win a Supercars race. He breaks the record for most wins in a single season. He's dominant, simple. He's just like you in every way possible. Little do you know, your future best friend is watching you become Penske Perfect. He's watching and rooting for you from an ocean over.

In 2021, Scott comes over from Supercars. You werent ever too close to anyone on the grid- but you two click. You were so used to keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, that you let him in.

in 2021, you have a best friend. you both know that being teammates and friends won't work for long. you both can bet on it long before it happens. in 2022 you create a youtube channel and start making little videos with Scott. People like you guys, they think you're funny. You're not just Josef Newgarden, 2x Indycar champion and Penske driver, but also you're 1/2 of Bus Bros. This is the closest you've ever been with a teammate on this level. It's an emotional dynamic. It carries on into 2023 with a little less passion. Heartbreak in inevitable. Some days you wanna make sure he's okay, other days you hope he suffers. You wanna break his leg- quick and aggressively, he wants to beat your skull in. You'll film a Bus Bros episode that weekend and pretend you didn't openly say that in an interview. You mindlessly believe it will be resolved, that you two can fix it when it falls apart. Scott is a realist, saying you're a limited duo. You're both too egotistical to believe you're wrong is what he says.

2023 wraps up and it's your worst season finish. What happened to Penske perfection? You were bigger than the whole sky, a demon on ovals. You were everything Penske represented. Scott's making you soft. What happened to your perfection that people said was impossible? Scott is not only your best friend, but your teammate. And he's starting to win. He's the friend you held as close as your enemies until you realized he was just like them. Coming into the 2024 season, you unfollow everyone. Rumors are spiraling and you end Bus Bros, quietly taking down the merch site. Scott refuses to answer questions besides saying to ask you about it.

It's the streets of St. Pete, Penske has an illegal car- you all know about it. You and Scott get a 1-2. Podiums are publicity, everyone has their eyes on you. Be as cordial as you can, you'll crop him out of your photos later on instagram.

The cooldown room is more tense, Scott refuses to sit by you. The cars illegal, they figure it out in Long Beach. The St. Pete 1-2 gets stripped away from you. Scott sees things level and you're hungry only for another win, to be seen as the winner you once were. The Barber press conference is an embarrassment for you, you're spilling your guts on a white table while cameras flash. Scott admits to it and takes subtle digs at you in an interview. (x,x)

Scott takes pole position at the 500. Scott leads the most laps. But you won. Your hunger motivated you and here it is, the proof you're better. You lost your best friend for it. you're the first back to back Indy 500 race winner since 2001-2002. People are calling you the villain. This is how it ends. Scott makes fun of you during your speech, "I still love you my bus bro." And thats how it ends. You're still cropping eachother out of posts. You seldomly talk. It's not over though, and it never will be.

Oh and Will Power is there.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

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

"I still can’t believe that you aren’t freaking out!?"

Lizzie didn't even bother to open her eyes at that question.

She was laying sprawled out on the massive garden swing her father had built nearly two decades ago, with Mara curled up on her stomach like a massive judgemental heating pad. It helped some against the muscle aches that her latest seizure had left her with, and not really at all with the the feeling of tiredness and like she had been hit by a bus. 

Which was the reason why she was laying around on the garden swing and not actually help her father and Tasha’s mother with their…weekly gardening. 

Tasha poked her and Lizzie just sighed. 

 Tasha was completely and utterly unapologetic about interrogating her and Lizzie wasn't in the mood to actually answer her best friend slash pseudo sister slash whatever the heck you called the daughter of your godmother when your father was also her godfather.

Their little family it was, even when it wasn't the most normal one. Lizzie's father and Aunt Lou had grown up down the street together...had gone to school together, later on to university...and had been best friends all throughout that. They had each gone on to get married, and had Lizzie and Natasha weeks apart. Tasha's father had been died when she had been 2...and Lizzie's parents marriage had spectacularly imploded by the time she was 6 and after that...well. It had always been just the four of them.

"Because I'm not freaking out," Lizzie finally said with a deep sigh. She was trying to take another nap, but Tasha's incessant questions weren't exactly helping.

"You should be freaking out," Tasha said, completely disregarding Lizzie's need for peace. "Lando Norris, formula one driver, is reading your book!“

"And he's probably just reading it as a curiosity," Lizzie said, trying to rationalize things. She didn’t think that lando was actually going to finish the book. Romantasy was not the kind of things that a guy like Lando Norris would read for fun…and maybe that would make their eventual break up easier.

Even when there was a part of Lizzie that was melting about the fact that he had wanted to get Mara a gift for her birthday.

Still.

She drew her fingernails through Mara’s short chocolate brown fur. 

Tasha, however, wasn't having any of it. She gave Lizzie an unimpressed look. "Did you miss the part where Oscar Piastri is also reading it, because his girlfriend loves your series?"

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but Tasha wasn't done yet. "We are talking about two formula 1 racers, who probably have tons of friends and maybe even more formula 1 drivers who are reading you book! They might even recommend it to the rest of the grid! And you don’t care! Who are you and what have you done to my Lizzie?!"

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh at that, opening her eyes to look at Tasha energetically gesturing, blonde hair flying around as she twisted to look at Lizzie. 

"Maybe I am freaking out a little bit," Lizzie admitted drily. “I just don’t have the energy to get all animated right now.”

Tasha harrumphed. “This is like the most interesting your life has been in years!“ Tasha said brightly. “First cafe guy, now F1 drivers that read your books! How is cafe guy by the way?”

"Fine," Lizzie said vaguely.

Tasha noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?" Lizzie could see the beginnings of a smirk in Tasha's eyes, and she already knew where this was going.

“He’s traveling for work,” she answered truthfully. It wasn’t a lie…and she wasn’t ready yet to admit to exactly who she was dating. She was pretty sure that Tasha was going to have a heart attack if Lizzie came around the corner with “Oh, you know the guy I am seeing? It’s Lando Norris.”.

“He saw me posting for Mara’s birthday and is now insisting that he’ll get her a gift,” Lizzie said softly. 

Tasha's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously? He's buying a gift for your dog’s birthday? That’s the cutest fucking thing I have ever heard."

Lizzie nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, can you believe it? It's kind of sweet, actually."

"It's definitely sweet. So sweet that I am gonna throw up," Tasha agreed, a knowing glint in her eye. "And it definitely doesn't sound like just a fling to me."

Lizzie pressed her lips together at that.

“Uh oh,” Tasha said drily. “What’s going on in that head of yours Lizzie Lou?”

Lizzie sighed. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

Lizzie hesitated again, scratching Mara’s ears as a distraction. “It’s just… my mum left when she couldn’t handle my epilepsy. If she couldn’t stick around, how can I expect anyone else to?”

Tasha’s whole face scrunched up in immediate protest. “First of all, fuck her. Second of all, that’s not on you.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Maybe it’s not fair to put that on someone else, though. What if I love someone, and then they realize it’s too much?”

Tasha poked her in the forehead. “Then they don’t deserve you.”

Lizzie let out a humorless laugh. “You say that like it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple.” Tasha flopped onto the swing beside her, throwing her legs over Lizzie’s lap. “Look, I stick around. Mara sticks around. Your dad sticks around. My mum sticks around. We don’t do that because it’s easy. We do it because we love you.”

Lizzie slumped against the swing cushions. "I know, I know. You all love me. But that's different."

Tasha rolled her eyes, reaching down to whack Lizzie on the head. "Don't be an idiot. It's not different. Not one bit. We love you, and that's why we stick around."

"But it's just you guys," Lizzie argued, her voice muffled against the pillow, she buried her head into."Family is different. This is like, romantically sticking around."

Tasha scoffed. "Oh, so family love is stronger than romantic love? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Lizzie lifted her head to give Tasha a look. “No, you idiot. It’s just...it’s different, alright? Family is supposed to stick around. It’s like...a given. Romantic love...is supposed to be fun, and easy, and not have all these...issues.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. Because the perfect relationship is one where nothing ever goes wrong and everything is sunshine and roses. That sounds like a load of horseshit to me.”

Lizzie groaned, burying her face into the pillow again. "You know what I mean. Obviously, relationships aren't always going to be easy. But...epilepsy isn't just a minor issue. It's a pretty big deal. A lot to handle."

Tasha ran her fingers through Lizzie’s hair, her touch surprisingly soothing. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like epilepsy doesn’t complicate things. Of course it does. But you’re acting like you’re some kind of burden, like you’re less deserving of love than anyone else. That’s bullshit, Lizzie. And you know it.”

“It’s just a shitty deal for anybody to take,” Lizzie mumbled. “He could have any other girl, any other girl that doesn’t get seizures, that doesn’t need a service dog.”

Tasha smacked her upside the head again, harder this time. “Shut up. God, you’re so bloody stupid sometimes.”

Lizzie winced, rubbing the spot where Tasha had hit her. "Ouch, that hurt."

Tasha snorted. "Good. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you."

Lizzie huffed, shoving Tasha’s legs off of her lap in retaliation. “I’m just being realistic here.”

“No, you’re being pessimistic,” Tasha retorted. “You’re basically assuming that this guy is going to run away as soon as things get difficult.”

“Well, what if he does?” Lizzie asked, her voice small. “What if he realizes that I’m not worth it?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Then he’s a total idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you anyway. And there is a million other good guys out there who would happily take his place.”

“I don’t want a million other guys,” Lizzie grumbled, feeling like a petulant child. “I want that one, I think.”

Tasha gave her a sympathetic look. “I know you do. But you’re sabotaging yourself before you’ve even given him a chance. Give him credit, yeah? Maybe he’s not as shallow as you think.”

Lizzie sighed, knowing that Tasha was right, but still feeling scared. "But what if he doesn't get it? What if he can't handle it when I have a seizure?"

Tasha shrugged. "That's a risk you take with any relationship, epilepsy or not. But you won't know until you give it a chance."

Lizzie opened her mouth to protest but Tasha cut her off. "Shut up. Don't give me any more of your stupid reasons. You just need to let it happen, alright?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew Tasha was right. "Alright, fine. I’ll try. But if it all goes to crap, I’m blaming you."

Tasha grinned. "Oh, I’ll gladly take the blame if that’s how it goes. But I think it’ll be fine. This guy already sounds way nicer than any of the guys you’ve dated in the past."

Aunt Lou’s laughter rang through the garden and Lizzie turned to watch her father and aunt laugh about something or other. They looked younger like that. Carefree. Unburdened.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” She asked Tasha with a sigh.

“Nah. They’ll be living in denial in 40 years when we visit them in their old people’s home,” Tasha said drily. “You know. Still having biweekly scrabble nights and making each other playlists filled with love songs…and sharing a vegetable garden.” 

“Girls! What are we thinking for dinner?!” Her father called loudly as he helped aunt lou to her feet.

Tasha shot Lizzie a small grin, her eyes glittering with amusement. "Think we can con them into ordering takeaway?"

Lizzie snickered, the tension in her shoulders relaxing at the familiar banter. “Worth a try. You do the talking.”

“Always do,” Tasha said with a mock salute. She hopped off the swing, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and tugging her up as well. “Come on. Let’s go get some pepperoni pizza.”

[kyufessions]

downpour

synopsis: your boyfriend picks you up after your class

pairings: non-idol, boyfriend! intak x g.n. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

a/n: intak 🥹 our favorite golden retriever. also, not proof read as of yet, too tired lmao. italics are text messages from intak. (requested here.)

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

the one time you decide to not check the weather it begins to downpour during your economics class. every day you stay on top of the weather, especially since nowadays it seems to become more and more unpredictable. but today, of course, you went with your gut. and oh how wrong it was. you didn’t even have to look outside a window to know it was raining- the aggressive patter of raindrops were telling enough against the college building.

as your professor finished up the lesson early due to the weather, you quickly searched your bag for an emergency umbrella but to no avail. sighing, and mentally cursing yourself, you pull out your phone to check when the rain would stop. luckily enough, you noticed a string of text messages from your boyfriend that you assume he sent during your class.

i hope class is going okay <3

oh shit it’s raining. did you bring an umbrella?

i’ll pick you up after class, text me when you get out!

♥️ see you soon

smiling at the messages, you quickly call him as you swing your bag over your shoulder. within a few seconds, he answers with an excited tone.

“your uber driver has arrived in parking lot B.” the smile was evident in his voice, the thought of it bringing butterflies to your stomach.

“thank you, baby.” you say before hanging up to

scurry towards the exit to get back home for the day. you felt bad that intak drove all the way back to campus after leaving only two hours ago from his own classes, but at the same time you felt extremely grateful. if it weren’t for him you’d either have to get soaked taking the bus or take a thirty five dollar uber- both options not necessarily being of interest for you.

just as you approached the glass double doors, you notice intak’s red car in the pick up and drop off center of the parking lot. smiling foolishly at the sight of your boyfriend tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, you quickly run to his car with your jacket over your head. as the door opens up, intak jumps at the sudden noise and puts his hand over his heart for dramatics.

“hey baby!” you spoke, turning your head in his direction and smiling innocently at his heightened state. a small fit of laughter leaves your lips as you bring your hand up to cup his cheek, pecking his lips quickly before putting on your seatbelt. “thanks for picking me up, you didn’t have to.”

“it’s pouring outside, i wasn’t going to let you get soaked getting home. besides,” he starts pulling off, starting down the road towards your place. “i’m your boyfriend. it’s my duty to take care of you.”

you give him a look, a smirk playing across your lips as you lay your wet jean jacket across your lap to start drying off a bit. “i can take care of myself.” you respond in a teasing tone, your eyes admiring the way he looks behind the wheel. he might’ve just gotten his license a month ago, but he definitely didn’t drive like it. you felt safe when he was behind the wheel, despite him being a new driver.

he puffs out his cheeks as hd turns a corner, being careful on the wet roads as the rain continues on. “i know, but i love taking care of my baby.” as he hits a stop sign he quickly moves his hand from the wheel to your face, squeezing your cheeks as he quickly pecks your lips over and over before a car beeps at him from behind. “i’ll take care of you as long as you allow me to.”

inside your apartment were you, intak, and a mini fort built from couch cushions and any and all blankets available. originally, he was going to come in for a late lunch and head home. but as the weather got worse and thunder started to roar in the distance, you both decided it was best if he stayed the night. so within the past few hours, you’ve both made dinner and cuddled underneath the fort with food, snacks, and in matching pajamas you kept in a separate drawer for whenever he stayed over.

a few weeks ago you both had started a new kdrama called It’s Okay Not to be Okay. it’s quite depressing, but the storyline is beautiful and definitely keeps you both interested. thanks to the growing storm outside, you’re nearly close to finishing the show and are almost done with your milkshakes and popcorn- the ramen long gone at this point.

intak’s head propped up on your thigh as you ran your fingers through his hair as your other hand held on the edge of the popcorn bowl to periodically grab some. gasps and mumbled comments could be heard from him every few minutes, along with little giggles when the main characters would get close to kissing or getting together.

“i’m glad we didn’t take this long to get together.” intak says, his tone playful as he leans his head fully back to look up at you.

“yeah, because you made it obvious from the start.” you replied, smiling down at the boy below you. the way his hair was fading into a dark golden blonde made your heart flutter more than ever before, the color suiting his skin tone perfectly and making him appear more luminous than ever before.

intak noticed the sparkle in your eye whenever you looked at him, the sight never failing to upturn the corner of his lips even just the tiniest bit. “i did not.” a pause. he starts thinking for a moment. “did i?” he looks at you with wide curious eyes- eyes he knows you love.

you nod, a smile breaking out. “i’m glad you did though, i would’ve been too scared to make the first move.”

“why?”

you think for a moment before deciding to respond. in hindsight, you didn’t have anything to be scared of when it came to intak. he was so loving, so caring, so attentive. and he knew how to make someone feel comfortable around him. but truth be told, his beauty and demeanor can come across as intimidating at first. he’s so bubbly, so smiley. and everyone loved him. not that you yourself weren’t lovable but to an extent, you felt like you had to meet his standards to surpass them in order to even be considered as his partner. but you were wrong; he proved that.

playing with his waves, you lean down and plant a kiss on his lips. whenever your lips met his, as cliche as it sounded, sparks flew as if it were the fourth of july. everything felt right. the time, the place, the way your lips synced up together- perfection. nothing ever felt awkward between you two, even from the first meeting.

heart pounding, intak kisses back without hesitation and brings his hand up to your face and begins rubbing circles into the apple of your cheek. as you pull away, he swipes away an eyelash and admires your features for the hundredth time that day. no flaw could ever be detected from you- he truly thought of you as an angel. “i love you.” he admitted, the words spilling from his lips. your eyes widened for a second, taken aback by the sudden confession. “you don’t have to love me back, but just know i love y-“

“i love you too, intak.” you respond, cheeks heating up from this moment. suddenly the thunder sounded like birds chirping, and the grey skies were a clear sky blue with no clouds in sight as the sun became brightly visible. everything felt right- everything felt perfect.

melting into his touch, you place a soft kiss to the side of his palm before responding to his previous question. “you intimidated me at first.”

shooting up from his comfortable place on your lap, you watch his movements as he shuffled onto his knees to be eye level with you. “me? why?” the disbelief and curiosity was evident in his voice, making you chuckle at his cute reaction.

you shrug, unsure of why you even thought so in the first place. “i guess because of how outgoing you are? and pretty. you’re very pretty, baby.” you sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss to his forehead before laying your head on his shoulder. “not anymore though. now i just think of you as my annoying and dorky boyfriend.”

wrapping his arms around your waist as he laughs, he starts rocking you both back and forth as the rain continues to downpour outside. maybe, just maybe, the weather should become more unpredictable more often.

[g1rld1ary]

come home with me ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ hbd lockwood & co!! this was meant to be for the anniversary but as always I have greatly miscalculated the english timezone... (also totally feeling pre-valentine's excitement!!)

➻ word count: 3720

➻ synopsis: when your bus breaks down in the middle of the night, one Anthony Lockwood may just be your knight in shining armour

➻ warnings: slight mentions of drinking, clubbing & drugs, lucy making slight suggestive jokes if you squint, reader is shorter than lockwood, sharing a bed, fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You sat in your bus seat, checking you still had all your cash and your fake I.D. Satisfied, your purse snapped shut, changing shape as you gripped it tightly. Although you took the bus fairly regularly, you felt much more alone tonight than you had in a while. You’d left your friends and their ‘galentines’ celebration early, not in the mood to go clubbing but not willing to ruin their vibe. Plus, you weren’t ready to celebrate a holiday all about love so soon after being dumped.

You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist mindlessly, knowing you were still a long way from your family’s apartment. You quickly scoped out the rest of the bus. A few middle aged couples — you imagined they were returning from sweet Valentine’s Day dates and ready to be home and in bed before one. You thought it was sweet that their love was stronger than their fear of the Problem, though the iron lined buses probably helped quell their apprehensions. Your eye caught the only other young person on board, a boy around your age who was staring out the window, rapier hanging off the edge of the seat and into the aisle. An agent, clearly, though you wondered why he was alone when they usually travelled in teams.

You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting to be caught staring at anyone who could proficiently use a sword. You bounced along in the seat until the bus began to slow, jerking the passengers around aggressively. When it came to a proper halt you felt a spike of panic run through you. You were all alone in an area you didn’t know and still at least a half hour cab ride from home way past curfew. To top it all off you were in your heels and new slinky dress, prepared for the safety of a club and not the outdoor weather. You were going to die, you were sure of it.

Then the lights flickered and dimmed. Great. You were almost certain this was the end when the doors were locked too. You rolled your eyes as you watched one of the adults jiggle the door around until it could be forced open, then reluctantly followed the rest of the passengers out onto the street. Just your luck, you were in the middle of a random residential street with no overhead covers except a tiny iron bus stop fifty metres away, which you reluctantly let the older couples hide in. At least the ghost lamps were on, and your very average senses told you there weren’t many ghosts out tonight; were you the only person in London — dead or alive — who didn’t have a valentine?

You watched as the bus driver pulled open the hatch to expose the engine, tinkering around nervously to hurry and find the issue. You leant against a ghost lamp as a shaky protection and felt a few freezing rain droplets land on your bare arms. Fabulous, the night was just getting better and better. You watched the driver huff in frustration and glance around nervously, you doubted you’d be getting back on the bus anytime soon.

You slid down the ghost lamp until you were sitting on the damp ground, past trying to impress anyone at that point. You telepathically tried to send your friends a message that you were going to be found probably ghost touched or hypothermic in the morning. You breathed a sarcastic laugh to try and convince yourself it was a joke, but you could feel the panic rising in the back of your throat. At sixteen you were not equipped to be stuck on the side of the road well into the night, past curfew and pathetically unarmed. You could feel someone’s stare and couldn’t tell whether it was at your sad excuse of a dress or at your position on the ground, but you were past caring, not even trying to shield yourself.

“Sorry, everyone, but I can’t fix this. Your best bet now is getting a cab and getting inside as soon as you can,” The bus driver explained apologetically, and some of the couples groaned, eyeing out the street for a taxi. You were past the point of feeling phased, tilting your head up to face the sky and embracing the storm on your face, not even thinking about the mascara tracks being run. When you reopened your eyes there were only a few people left; the driver, one couple, the teenager and you. You stood reluctantly, trying to think of a way to get yourself home.

You cracked open your wallet sullenly, expecting exactly was in there. A few dollars; enough for a few drinks but not nearly enough for a taxi to where you were going. You sighed, feeling defeat creep upon you as you tried to come up with any other method of getting home. You could return to the club — if you survived the walk — but even then your friends would be either too drunk or too high to be of any assistance. A huge crack of thunder drew you from your thoughts, a lightning storm was definitely brewing. Amazing.

You sighed, stress manifesting as the hot tears beginning to stream down your face. You felt utterly hopeless. You had nowhere to go and no way of contacting anyone, you couldn’t even use a payphone to call your parents as you’d promised you’d stay in while they were away for the weekend.

“Why tonight?” You asked the sky, more to express your irritation than to search for an answer. You could hear the agent escorting the couple down the street to a cab, easily soothing their fears with overconfident assurances. You knew he’d returned only by the occasional drag of iron against cement accompanying his footprints, presumably his rapier. Unknown to you he watched you as he approached, taking in your dishevelled state. You were pretty, undeniably, but the mascara smudged from rain and tears and your hair stuck to your face and shoulders made you look like you might’ve seen better days. He sucked in a breath and approached you.

“Hi,” He said, “I’m Lockwood.”

“Y/n.” You turned to him, hoping he’d realise you had no interest in talking.

“I know this sounds really creepy, but will you please come home with me? Promise I’m not trying to murder you, but this storm’s not getting any better and I can’t leave you to the ghosts in good conscience. My house is only a few blocks away; I live with another boy and a girl, both my age so we wouldn’t be alone. You can take all the precautions you like — keys between the fingers, walk on the other side of the street if you want,” He rambled and you sized him up. A lanky boy with a sword or the ghosts? You figured you had a better chance against him if it came to it.

“Ok.” You nodded, trying to smoothly push yourself off the pavement and appear well put together in front of the strange boy.

Lockwood led the way, holding the umbrella over his head. You followed a few feet away, cautious to be out of reach, just in case he did want to hurt you. Though you were jealous of his prior planning for the rain.

“Here, take my coat. You must be freezing.” He held it out to you and you gladly accepted, spaghetti straps doing nothing to fend off the cold. The coat was warm and enveloped you entirely, sitting below the hem of your dress. “So, are you in school?” He tried to break the silence.

“Yeah, for history. You?” You cringed as you realised the redundancy of your statement — his being an agent of some sort was more than obvious and only emphasised by the rapier he held out in front of him. He answered kindly anyway.

“I never did much school, I’ve been an agent as soon as I was allowed.”

“That’s cool, you in a big agency?” You asked, and Lockwood beamed with pride.

“Not exactly — not yet. I run my own agency, soon to be the best in Britain. Lockwood and Co, you might have seen us in the papers?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your own agency, huh? That’s big stuff. Wish I could say I’d heard of you, but I avoid the papers when I can, it just depresses me. You might have to be just Lockwood tonight if that’s alright,” You joked and Lockwood laughed out loud, giving you a glimpse of an illuminating smile.

“Just Lockwood is perfect,” He answered, and the conversation quickly moved on, the two of you quickly losing the awkward silences.

“I got caught up in my research — a first, believe me. If I’d known about the bus and the weather I would have just caught a cab, or bailed earlier which is far more likely.”

“Tell me about it. My friends are out clubbing and I’m here walking in the rain with a stranger — uh, no offence.”

“None taken,” He assured you, “Wait, how old are you?” He didn’t think you looked old enough to get into a club, although the smudged makeup may have had something to do with it.

“Sixteen…” You trailed off, suddenly afraid he would judge you for your bad habits.

“So you’ve got a fake ID?” He raised an eyebrow at your nod. “Lucky. I tried to get one once but my associate George yelled at me for forty minutes straight, I never tried again.” You giggled at his explanation, the image making Lockwood seem younger, less intimidating than he’d initially been.

You moved closer as you walked, eventually ending up under the umbrella and feeling much warmer without the violent rain. As you talked more you noticed Lockwood was quite attractive, in an odd sort of way. Despite his old fashioned attire (you didn’t think agents typically wore shirt and ties), he had the loveliest smile and soft looking hair, though some of it was plastered on his pale forehead, unable to escape the rain entirely. What stood out most though, were his cheekbones. They were impossibly defined and quite dreamy, if you were being honest.

You talked about all sorts of unexceptional things, and you had the impression that Lockwood was doing his best to entertain you and distract you from your previous mood. It was working though, so you had no complaints.

“I’ve got a bit of sensitivity — very average — but I’m not going to waste my adolescence being stuck in the nightwatch ‘cause I can’t make it to really being an agent,” You laughed softly, “So I figured if I studied history I could be of more use, learn more about the Problem and all that.”

“You’d get along famously with my friend George, he’s obsessed with trying to figure out the Problem. For me it’s about the action, knowing that I’m actually putting all these ghosts to rest and having a meaningful impact on people’s lives.” You watched him circle his sword in the air, keeping the few Type Ones around further than they’d been lurking.

“Is that why you started your own agency?”

The walk seemed much shorter once the two of you started talking, and soon you’d arrived at Lockwood’s house, 35 Portland Row. The outside was unassuming, but beautiful in the classic English way. You caught a glance of the Lockwood & Co sign and couldn’t help but smile; you could feel the love and passion Lockwood had for the company from the small discussion you’d had about it. As Lockwood pushed open the front door a woman was just heading up the staircase in the hall, but turned at the noise.

“Jesus, Lockwood, what time do you call this? I was getting worried! Who’s this?” She looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel self conscious under the beautiful girl’s stare. You thought she looked a bit teasing, and realised what conclusions she’d drawn. Embarrassing, but understandable.

“Luce, this is y/n. Y/n, Lucy, my associate. She’s staying with us tonight; our bus broke down and getting her home at this time is practically impossible.” Lucy nodded, but the amused twinkle in her eye didn’t dull.

“It’s nice to meet you then. I’d offer for you to bunk in with me, but I’ve got a nasty flu coming on and I doubt you’d want me anywhere near you.” She gestured down to the thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the steaming tea in her hand. You smiled to absolve her of responsibility and she waddled back up the stairs and into the dark.

Lockwood, in turn, led you up to the first landing and into his bedroom. He rifled through a chest of drawers as you tried not to snoop, eyes instead catching on the alluring movement of his fingers. He eventually handed you a t-shirt and some tracksuit pants.

“They might be a bit big, but they’ll do for the night,” He sounded embarrassed and you smiled in thanks. “The shower’s just down the hall, second door. You can go clean up.” You thanked him again before heading for a much needed shower.

You stood under the hot water, more than mindful not to take too long. You were so caught up in being grateful to be alive and not ghost touched or stranded in the middle of London that the weirdness of the situation hadn’t fully caught up to you until now. Once dried you put on the clothes Lockwood had given you and laughed slightly at your reflection. Despite your figure the clothes still unexpectedly swallowed you. It made sense since Lockwood was so tall, but you found it funny nonetheless.

You returned to find Lockwood sitting on the edge of his bed and stood in front of him awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

“So, um, I’m not a great sleeper so I think I’ll go read in the library for a bit and probably stay there. You can take the bed.” His previous easy confidence was gone, and Lockwood suddenly looked his age again, innocent and awkward.

“Are you sure? I can take a couch or something, I don’t want to intrude.” Lockwood assured you that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon anyway, and he was sure you needed the bed much more than he would. You bade him goodnight shyly, and thanked him for the millionth time before climbing into his bed, ashamed to admit how much you liked the pillow that smelt like him.

However, once it was just you in the dark, all your previous exhaustion had dissolved and you were wide awake, too on edge to sleep. You were in a strangers house on the other side of the city in the middle of the night, you very well may not live to see another day. Logically you knew you were being dramatic, Lockwood and Lucy both seemed lovely and genuine, but then again, so did Ted Bundy.

You felt like you’d been lying in bed for hours when the door creaked open and you inadvertently made eye contact with Lockwood creeping in, looking admittedly adorably soft in his worn pyjamas.

“Sorry,” He said, “I needed an extra blanket. Can’t sleep?” You used the light from the hall to glance at the clock, almost two o’clock. You shook your head softly, feeling almost guilty when he’d given up his bed for you. Lockwood stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly hesitant about something. “Do you, um, do you want me to read to you for a bit? It always worked for me when I was younger.” He sounded sheepish but you thought he was the sweetest person on earth at that moment. You agreed quickly, and he slotted himself in on the other side of the bed.

You huddled in to face him and Lockwood cleared his throat softly. He had continued on from where he’d evidently left off in the library so the plot was a mystery to you, but his soothing voice worked wonders in calming your thoughts, weary eyes closing quickly to send you into a cozy sleep. Lockwood, unbeknownst to you, fell asleep uncharacteristically fast after you, novel left upside down on the nightstand. Despite his usual aversion to sleep, having a warm body and small snores next to him strangely made him want to start getting eight hours a night.

Lucy was assigned to wake Lockwood for breakfast the next morning upon George’s request, and silently sent a prayer before pushing open his door, wary of what she might find. To her surprise (and personal relief) you two were in bed together, but not in the way that she’d dreaded walking in on. You were both totally clothed, your head resting on Lockwood’s chest, his arm around your waist, effectively keeping you burritoed in the blanket. Lockwood’s eyes snapped open, a habit he’d never detested more, and groaned at Lucy’s good humoured snicker when they locked eyes. She shut the door behind her quickly, leaving Lockwood to deal with things on his own.

You woke not long after, feeling Lockwood stirring next to you and his breathing start to become irregular.

“Morning,” He slurred, still half asleep and wanting nothing more than to pay off his sleep debt with you keeping him safely in bed.

“Good morning.” You smiled sweetly, already in a good mood. You bent to collect your clothes off the floor, eyeing your dress with mild disgust — it would be quite the walk of shame home.

“Keep the clothes.” Lockwood gestures casually to your outfit and you shook your head vehemently.

“I can’t, they’re yours!” You protested but he seemed not to care at all.

“I don’t need them, just have them. They look good.” You flushed and dropped the fight, words lost in the vacuum of your brain. You busied yourself with rolling the cuffs a few times so it wasn’t quite as obvious they weren’t yours.

Lockwood led you down to the kitchen, asking you about your plans for the day. You were met with Lucy and one other boy in the kitchen, Lucy sitting at the table already tucking into her meal while the boy was standing by the stove.

“I mean, come on Lockwood, you couldn’t have given me any warning we had a fourth for breakfast? Bloody good thing we had enough eggs or it would’ve been you going hungry!” The boy muttered to himself, apparently unaware of your entry. You locked eyes with Lucy who was holding back her laugh and Lockwood coughed uncomfortably.

“Morning, Georgie,” He smiled an amused grin, practically blinding you in the early morning. George froze as he realised he’d been caught, then doubled down his mood with a glare in Lockwood’s direction but it simply bounced off the charm he oozed and you smiled. You introduced yourself quickly and explained the situation, not wanting to uphold the tension in the room. George wasn’t exactly as warm as Lucy, but then you got the impression that it wasn’t in his nature to be.

Lockwood and Lucy upheld forced small talk as you became nervous in the new environment and George simply had no desire to talk, at least, until Lockwood had the bright idea to get the ball rolling.

“So Georgie, y/n actually studies the Problem. Like, academically.” It was like a switch had flipped and suddenly George had so much to say you were overwhelmed with it all. You tried to explain your research area as best you could while trying to politely ask questions about his own knowledge and make a good impression. Lockwood must have sensed your anxiety as he put a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze under the table, chuckling softly into his eggs.

Your meal passed quickly after that, and you felt strangely at home in the cozy kitchen, amongst three people who were total strangers only hours before. Yet, it had to come to an end at some point, and it was soon time for you to go.

You collected your things, profusely thanking each of them for not only saving you (Lockwood), but also for the ridiculously delicious breakfast (George).

“You really saved my life,” You said, as Lockwood disregarded yet another thanks.

“It’s nothing, you would have done the same. You, uh, you should come around again sometime.” You beamed, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, I have about a thousand more questions for you — not an exaggeration,” George said, and you easily agreed to share more of your research with him.

“Plus, we like seeing Lockwood blush,” Lucy added cheekily, and then it was your turn to blush, forcing your eyes down to the floor as both George and Lucy laughed at the pair of you, mirror images in your embarrassment.

Although it may have looked like you were making a post-Valentine’s Day walk of shame, you were gleeful. You hadn’t at all imagined your night would turn out as it had, but you’d made new friends — and maybe the start of something more, and managed to avoid being ghost touched which you always counted as a win. You ignored the judgemental looks you received in slept in joggers and club ready heels, and delighted in getting home before your parents arrived back and noticed you were missing.

You locked the door to your apartment behind you and dialled the number Lucy had made you promise to call when you were safe and sound, hanging up with plans for dinner at Portland Row the following week.

You flopped back on your bed and grinned. You were sure you’d see more of Lockwood & Co in the future.

[cheriladycl01]

So teach me - Sergio Perez x Trainee F1 Rookie! Reader

Plot: Sergio wants to take a year or two out leaving an open seat in Red Bull and who better for Christian Horner to get besides Red Bull is the Red Bull Trainee who was there reserve driver last year and has been training for this moment.

"Sergio, are you serious?" Christian asks his second Red Bull member, Sergio had just come to him telling him he wouldn’t be renewing his contract with Red Bull and that he felt 2025 was a good time to take some earned leave from the sport. and not fully retire he had requested to be a mentor for the youth Red Bull drivers. Before he took time with his family, he knew he'd come back in a year or two, but as of now his family were where he needed to be at.

“Yes, I’m being serious. I want to spend more time with my family” he admits. It was getting draining, the travelling back and forth and not seeing his wife and children for weekends on end.

“Okay, but I’m putting you with the hardest piece of work you’ll ever meet in Motorsports, she’s driven to succeed and is a phenomenal driver but she has … well let’s just say she isn’t the easiest person to get along with and she’s put us all through hell. So if you are serious about this, that's who you have to mentor. She's quite frankly the only person I trust to take your place" Christian said, already thinking about how the hell they are going to announce the new line up for 2025.

It was lucky really, Audi were coming onto the scope in 2026, and there was talk that they were keen on giving you a seat since you were doing so well. So maybe this was actually a good thing, as it scared Christian more thinking of you in an Audi than Sergio out of a Red Bull.

"She's in the back, you can go meet her" he advises pointing a pen towards the garage where they stored different components and the spare wheels.

He walked through looking for someone that would potentially be this absolute piece of work that Christian had made you out to be. You from the way described were clearly on the younger agenda of the grid and he knew communicating with you may be hard because of that but what he didn't expect was a complete and utter lunatic.

He took one look at you and assumed you were basically feral, you had your helmet on, stereo in hand walking towards the garage where his and Max's cars were banging your head to the loud and aggressive music.

"Oh lord" Sergio breathes out looking at you, already knowing this would be a long 3 months of him training you.

"Y/N please turn that down! We're trying to work" one of the engineers working on the car complains as he puts the power drill down on the edge, not wanting to mess anything up.

"Arghhh fine Marcino, but you know you love my music" you grinned taking your helmet off. Your curly hair came falling out around it, in messy knots.

"Y/N?" Sergio calls out and looks over to you, he steps forward into the garage and smiles at you extending a hand. You shake it, clearly you had some kind of manners and decorum, he couldn't help but think.

"What's up old man?" you stifle a laugh trying to look as serious as possible.

"Old man? I'm only 34!" he exclaims looking at his hands to see if he could in fact pass himself off as an old man.

"Well, old to me" you smirk, picking up the bottle of squash you'd left on the workbench earlier, taking a quick swig from it.

"So, long story short. This old man is going on leave for a year or two and retire..." he starts trying to explain his situation to you.

"Oh so you are old old" you laugh giving him a pointed look.

"No- look let me finish, I'm retiring my car for a few seasons and for whatever reason Christian Horner wants you to take my seat, but before you do that I'm going to be training you" he offers and you place a hand on your hip, almost daring him to continue.

"And why may i ask do i need you to train me for this?" you asks, obviously you knew he was good at his job. It was Sergio Perez stood in front of you but that didn't mean your demeanor was up to slip and slide and make you look like an incompetent nobody.

"Come on, surly even you know that. I'm the only Red Bull in the last few years that has been able to keep up with Verstappen, you wanna give into the pressure like Gasly and Albon or do you want me to show you how to drive on par with the current world champion" he asks crossing his arms like a strict parent.

"God jheez alright. What do you want? You want me doing pressup's or neck training. Or time testing. Or you wanting me to show you how i can drive?" you ask looking at him.

"You think Christian flew you out to Abu Dhabi as a special guest? No your our test drive for tonight in free practice and you'll be driving my car with Verstappen"

"Oh its on" you say. The engineers step back observing the car.

"Go get into the suit Christian left for you, it'll be your first Red Bull racing suit" he says patting your back making you shrug off.

"Don't touch me bro" you say giving him the side eye before going and changing into your fireproofs and your suit. Navy blue looked good on you, you left with the Red Bull cap covering the face and walking back out to where Sergio had left you.

"You want some help getting in or?" Sergio asks awkwardly, looking at you as you walked round the car, a finger swiping around the halo as you got closer.

"Woah, I can drive the car I just cant get in it alone... that's really interesting how have i survived this long in motorsports its insane" you admit, looking over the car. One of the engineers hands you over your own helmet that someone had made look a little bit more like that off a Red Bull Driver.

"Alright enough with that sarcasm okay?" he frowns, he hands you the steering wheel and you place it in the car, you feel about getting familiar with it.

"Are you ready?" he asks slapping the visor down.

"Yeah" you smile, nodding at him.

You pull out onto the track, Verstappen pulled out after you which felt odd having a World Champion behind you on the track.

"Right, first lap do as normal get a lay for the track and what the car feels like. Then we can do a flying lap" the engineer advises.

You do as he says, testing the track. Your tires were good and the car felt powerful. You come around and some of the others pit, meaning its time for your flying lap.

"Push the car to the max without fucking it for Sergio okay?" the engineer offers, you chuckle a little into the radio finding it funny.

"Why put me in the damn car if you think im going to wreck it, no trust in me whatsoever" you frown, shaking you head a little before putting your foot down.

You were an amazing driver, however it seemed to most that you were fearless and a rather aggressive driver. Suitable to be able to match Max's driving style, however as a rookie you still had your mistakes and over or under judgements that in races would cost you places and potentially put you at risk.

You managed to complete two flying laps by the timer had run out for FP1.

"What are the positions?" you ask.

"Oscar in first, your in second and George in third" making you gasp in shock, you knew you'd drive quick but you didn't think it was top 3.

"Where did you learn to drive like that" Sergio asks you as you hopped out the car. You pull your helmet off and then your balaclava your hair falling around your face in a mess of tangled curls.

"Practice, by watching races? Why?" you say not really sure what else to say. You'd never had like a specific mentor, it was just the radio engineer and the team you were with giving you pointers in the debriefs on how to improve.

"You take angles that you shouldn't far to tight, making your tire management awful. Your aggressive and nearly took out Lando today, because he was slower on the straight. You have lots to learn" he admits crossing your arms. You got to argue back, having disagreed with the prior statements but you knew that would get you nowhere.

"So teach me..." you say leaning against his car.

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