#and I don’t know if I can get time to go and mom said she didn’t want me to come out to see her

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

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

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, time-skips, the absolute shit-show that was the first half of the 2023 season.

Notes — Amelia being McLaren's literal saviour? IKTR

2023 (Saudi Arabia — Silverstone)

The paddock in Bahrain had started to quiet down after qualifying, the desert heat finally slipping away into a cooler breeze. Amelia was walking through the paddock, steps quick and stride polished, muttering statistics under her breath and trying to burn off some extra energy before debriefs were due to begin.

“Amelia.”

She turned. Adrian stood just outside Red Bull’s motorhome, hands in his pockets, watching her with a thoughtful expression.

“Hi, Adrian,” she greeted, smiling politely at the man she’d once idolised who had become something more reminiscent of a friend over the last two years.

“Do you have a minute?” He asked.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sure.”

He gestured for them to walk a little away from the thinning crowds. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you since testing, but I figured it was better in person rather than on the phone.”

Amelia waited, quiet.

Adrian glanced toward the Red Bull garage, then back at her. “You have done something incredible,” he said. “The car — it’s… brutally efficient. Elegant, even. It’s the cleanest thing I’ve seen come out of our CFD pipeline in five years. Maybe longer.”

Amelia’s brow ticked up. “Thank you.”

He studied her for a moment, brow furrowed slightly. “So why did you leave, Amelia? You could’ve ridden that thing straight through another championship with Max. Earned the credit. The spotlight. A long, solid legacy.”

“I didn’t need to,” she said simply.

He blinked, thrown off. “Didn’t need to… win?”

“I didn’t need credit,” she clarified. “That was never the point. Max knows that this years car is ours — mine and his, in a way. You know, too. That’s enough for me.”

“You designed one of the most dominant aero concepts I’ve seen in a decade,” Adrian said, still incredulous. “And walked away before it even hit the track?”

Amelia nodded. Shrugged. “I didn't build the car for glory. I built it because I knew what it could be. And then I gave my concepts to you, so that you would make them happen, and you did.” She pursed her lips. “Max didn’t need me anymore. He knows how to handle a championship. He’s done it twice, now.”

“And McLaren does need you?” Adrian pressed.

“Yes,” she said. Smiled. “They do. Oscar too.”

Adrian looked at her like he was trying to understand a language he didn’t speak. Slowly, he said, “You’ve created a car that will be remembered for generations.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t care that you won’t get the credit?”

“No,” she said. “Doesn’t change what I did.”

There was a long silence, the dusk settling over them in a soft hush.

Adrian let out a slow breath, almost reverent. “I admire it, you know. Even if I don’t understand it.”

Amelia gave him the faintest smirk. “That’s okay. I’m not an easy person to understand.”

“No,” Adrian agreed. “But you’re very, very good.” He paused. “God, sometimes, Amelia, I wonder if maybe you’re better than me.”

“I might be. One day,” she said, and turned to go.

—

The debrief room was quiet, too quiet.

Oscar sat back in his chair, legs outstretched, eyes on the floor. His race suit was half-unzipped, his undershirt sweat-darkened at the collar. Amelia sat at the head of the small conference table, her iPad flat in front of her, her stylus spinning slowly between her fingers.

“Well,” Oscar said dryly. “That was shit.”

Amelia’s lips twitched. “You’re not wrong.”

He tilted his head. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course you can.” She frowned at him.

Oscar looked over at her, brow creased faintly. “You knew the car wasn’t going to be good this year. You warned me. So why did you still come back to McLaren?”

Amelia leaned back in her chair, thought about it, then shrugged. “Well, you were a big part of it.”

Oscar blinked at her.

“You needed somebody who was able to make the most of a bad situation,” she said. “Not someone who’d write it off before the lights went out. You’re better than the car right now. But the car won’t stay this way forever; I promise you that.”

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “Right. Thanks,” he said eventually, voice low.

“Don’t get sentimental,” Amelia said, flicking a button on her iPad. “We’re both going to be angry for a while, at least until I can fix this.”

He nodded, some of the stiffness leaving his shoulders. “Fine by me.”

She tapped through to the race data, then looked up. “Okay. So. Let’s talk lap one.”

Oscar squinted. “What was wrong with lap one?”

“You braked late into Turn 10. Just like you did in qualifying.”

“Maybe the corner needs to come sooner,” he muttered, deadpan.

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Maybe you just need more time in the sim.”

Oscar made a face. “If I spend any more time in it than you already make me do, I might merge with the chair.”

They dove into the telemetry together then — back and forth, sharp and focused, their language slowly becoming shorthand. She pointed out throttle traces, he challenged her on strategy calls. She fired back with sector deltas, he offered precise corner feedback.

By the time they were done, an hour had passed.

Oscar leaned back, drained but calmer. “You’re intense.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said, unapologetically. “I’m also right, most of the time.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You are.”

She packed up her iPad, stood, and gestured toward the door. “Come on, ducky,” she said. “My husband is probably pacing somewhere, lamenting about how shit his car is. We need to stop him before he spirals.”

Oscar made a face as he got to his feet. “I don’t like being ducky.”

Amelia shrugged, unconcerned. “Too bad. You are.”

He sighed. “Why can’t I just be Oscar?”

“You can,” she said simply. “But you’re ducky too. Both can be true.”

Oscar blinked at her, clearly expecting more of an explanation. Amelia paused in the doorway, tilting her head like she was debating whether to explain. Then she did — bluntly, honestly, in her Amelia way. “Nicknames are… structure,” she said. “They help me sort people. Feelings. Connections. If I nickname you, it means I’ve decided I trust you. It’s like… mental shorthand. Emotional filing.”

Oscar’s brow furrowed. “Like… categories?”

“Exactly,” she said, eyes lighting up slightly. “It’s not random. It means something. I call you ducky because you’re calm on the surface and all chaos underneath, and also because you look like someone who would fall asleep in a bathtub. And because I like you. You’ve earned it.”

He stared at her. “I… don’t know what to do with that.”

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” she said, already halfway down the hall. “Just know that it means I’ve put you in the ‘safe’ column.”

Oscar followed, a little dazed. “That’s a lot to attach to a duck.”

Amelia smiled to herself. “Also, my husband kept saying that I imprinted on you like a mother duck, so…”

They rounded the corner and found said husband, Lando, in the corridor, muttering to himself with a piece of tyre compound data pulled up on his phone.

Oscar pointed wordlessly.

Amelia just sighed. “See? Spiralling. I told you.” She stepped forward, nudged the phone down, and gently took her husband’s hand. “Hey,” she said. “You did well with what you had.”

Lando looked between the two of them, Amelia’s steady face, Oscar’s unreadable one, and let out a breath that was mostly a laugh. “We’re going to be fucking shit this year, aren’t we?” He asked.

Amelia sighed. “I hope not. I’m already trying to get my hands on the car, but the cost cap is preventing me from making any significant changes this early…”

Lando pouted at his wife.

“Pizza?” Oscar asked.

Amelia’s head snapped around in his direction. “Yes!”

Lando was still pouting when he said, “Sure. Yeah. Whatever. Depression pizza. Yay!”

—

The glass walls of the office reflected the glow of early evening. Outside, the MTC lake was still, pale with late-winter. Inside, Amelia sat at the head of the table with her knees drawn up in the chair, a pink, battered notebook open in front of her.

Andrea leaned in to look closer. “You did this all by hand?”

Amelia didn’t look up. “I think better with a pen and paper.”

Her dad, seated opposite her, turned a few pages. His brows rose as he scanned carefully drawn schematics, annotated calculations, wind tunnel projections, notes in tiny, slanted handwriting. Everything from ride height tweaks to theoretical suspension layouts to predicted competitor development trends.

“This is a full concept,” Andrea said, quietly impressed. “This is… years worth of work.”

“Just a few weeks,” Amelia said. “That’s not just theory in there, though. That’s a car.”

Zak sat back, flipping to the final page. It was labelled, in block capitals, with an underlined title.

PROJECT: MCL38-AN

Underneath, in her neat writing.

It’ll win if you trust it.

He looked up. “This will put us back on top?”

“I know it will,” Amelia said, finally meeting their eyes. “Everything I’ve learned — from Red Bull, from Max, from every telemetry graph and CFD failure and stupid porpoising issue in the last two years — I used it all. And not just to make something clever. To make something fast. Reliable. Adaptable.”

Andrea gently closed the notebook. “This is championship-level ambition.”

“It’s more than ambition,” Amelia said. “It’s your 2024 car. The notebook is yours now.”

Her dad raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want to keep it?”

She shrugged. “No. I won’t need it, but you will. I’ve already made a million copies, but I’d like you to keep the original.”

Her dad looked at her and reached for the notebook again with something like reverence. “We’re going to need to start assembling a team around this immediately.” He said.

“I already started,” she told him. “Tom in aero’s got preliminary CFD models. Jordan’s been mocking up rear suspension geometry in CAD for two weeks.”

Andrea laughed softly, almost disbelieving. “You went over our heads?”

“I’m not very good at leaving things to chance,” she said. “And our car this year is awful. So bad. I needed to start making something happen, even if most of it will have to wait until next year.”

Her dad stood and leaned across the table, hand on the notebook. “Honey, this is…”

“Yours. Ours.” She said.

Andrea let out a breath.

Her dad stared at her for a beat, and then he was beaming.

—

It was nearly midnight, and the MTC was mostly dark — save for the soft hum of light in the engineering wing. Amelia sat on the floor of her office, legs crossed, iPad glowing in her lap.

Oscar lay stretched out on the rug in front of her, still in his training kit, a protein shake abandoned next to him. Lando was in her desk chair, spinning gently, half-asleep and barefoot.

“This is the weirdest sleepover I’ve ever been to,” Oscar muttered.

“You say that every time you hang out with us,” Lando replied, yawning.

“I mean it every time.” Oscar said.

Amelia didn’t look up. “Shut up. I’m trying to change the trajectory of your entire careers right now.”

That got their attention.

Lando leaned forward. “What are you doing, baby?”

Amelia turned the iPad so they could both see the screen. Her voice was calm, even, but there was a thread of something bright underneath it. “This is going to be your 2024 car.”

Oscar blinked. “You—what?”

She tapped through a few screens: 3D renders, rear suspension models, aero flow maps. “Codename MCL38-AN. I told you both that I already had it planned out, didn’t I?”

Oscar sat up straighter. “You really think that’ll put us at the front of the grid?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re driving scrap metal right now, I won’t lie. It’s holding you both back. But this car—” she tapped the image again “—this is what we’re building toward. This is the one. The team just needs time. I need time.”

Oscar was staring at the iPad, wide eyed. “You’re sure.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. All I need is for you to keep showing up. To keep believing. We’re not going to be at the back of the grid forever.”

Lando stood, walked over, and looked down at the designs for a long moment. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“Why are you showing us now?”

“Because,” she said, glancing between them, “I can’t ask you to keep suffering through this season unless you have a reason. A future. This is your future. You’ll win races in this car.”

Oscar laughed, breathless and stunned. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said, finally smiling. “Holy shit.”

Lando slid down onto the floor beside her, shoulder brushing hers. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Us. This team. This sport.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Oscar pointed at the iPad again. “Can I name it?”

“No.” She said.

“Can I drive it now?” He asked.

“It doesn’t exist yet.” She told him.

“Then can I keep being your ducky?”

She looked at him, bemused. “You want to be ducky now?”

“I’m reconsidering my argument,” he muttered. “Out of loyalty…”

Lando was grinning. “We’re going to win championships, aren’t we?”

Amelia nodded. Smiled at her husband. Kissed him. “Yes. We are.”

—

They got back to Monaco well past midnight, Lando wordless beside her in the car. The race had been brutal. Another pointless race. Another weekend where the car hadn’t performed, and the looped back data had made her want to throw her laptop into the Red Sea.

But home was home.

Amelia dropped her bags in the entryway, kicked off her trainers, and walked straight to the kitchen, wordlessly opening the fridge. She fished out a can of Diet Coke and pressed it to her forehead.

Behind her, Lando wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"You gonna fire me?” He asked quietly.

She laughed despite the burning itch under her skin. “No. You did your best.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled against her neck.

They stood like that for a beat. Amelia breathed in the scent of his hoodie and let the familiar weight of him soothe the static in her chest. He was solid. Warm. Hers.

Finally, she turned around and kissed his jaw. “It’ll get better.”

Lando nodded. “Good. Because I’m getting real tired of seeing you more frustrated than smug.”

She cracked a smile. “I’m always smug.”

“There she is.”

—

Amelia didn’t cook often, but when she did, it was loud, chaotic, and always somewhat efficient.

Oscar sat at the breakfast bar, watching her with mild horror as she chopped onions at a blinding speed.

“You’re a very violent chef,” he observed.

“The quicker it’s done, the better,” she said. “Now pass me the basil, ducky.”

He handed it over. “Still don’t particularly like being called that.”

“Don’t care.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Do you want red or white wine?”

—

The living room was littered with discarded Uno cards, an empty pizza box, and the remains of someone’s sprite can that Max Fewtrell had been using as a drum for the last ten minutes.

“You are cheating,” Pietra said flatly, accusing Lando with a pointed look.

“I’m just playing strategically.”

Amelia, half-asleep on the sofa with her feet in Lando’s lap, mumbled, “Strategically being a little shit, yeah.”

“Don’t hate the player,” Lando shot back, tugging her ankle gently. “Hate the wife.”

“You’ll sleep on the couch for that,” she muttered, eyes still closed.

Max Verstappen arrived late, as usual. Amelia opened one eye when he collapsed beside her on the sofa and started picking at the leftover cold garlic bread.

“Missed you.” She told him sleepily.

“Missed you too, zusje.” He said.

She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder.

—

The Spanish GP had been marginally better than the ones that’d come before. Still not good. But better.

Back at the airport, Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, headphones in, while Amelia reviewed strategy notes and Lando bought three Snickers and two iced teas.

Lando dropped next to her with a huff, his arm winding around her waist, hand flexing before squeezing her hip. “I’m considering sabotage.”

“Of?”

“The car. I’m gonna drive it into a lake or something.”

Oscar pulled one headphone off. “Wouldn’t it sink?”

Lando stared at him. “That’s your concern?”

“Hydrodynamics are important.” Oscar smirked.

Amelia sighed. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Lando grinned. “You love it.”

She didn’t reply, just leaned closer, then passed him a highlighter. “Help me mark the wind tunnel data.”

—

They’d flown into Spielberg a little early to prep and decompress. Amelia had her notes. Lando had brought five pairs of sunglasses and absolutely no socks. Oscar was, predictably, already on his fifth stretch of the legs down the paddock.

The three of them walked the track together at sunset, shoes crunching against the gravel.

“You know,” Amelia said, glancing between the two drivers, “if either of you crashes this weekend, I won’t be happy.”

“Would you leave me for dead?” Oscar asked, deadpan.

“Yes.” She lied.

“She wouldn’t,” Lando said.

Amelia looked ahead, wind tugging at her hair, then back at the boys; her husband and her ducky.

This job was hell. The car was beyond flawed. The season wasn’t what they’d hoped.

But this, this team, this family, this effort, felt like something worth holding onto.

—

Silverstone came, and there was a shift.

It wasn’t everything. But it was something.

Amelia stood just outside the McLaren garage, arms crossed over her chest, watching the mechanics finish prepping the car for FP1.

The upgraded floor. The reshaped side-pods. The altered rear suspension geometry she’d argued over for weeks.

It was all here. On track. Real.

It wasn’t perfect — of course it wasn’t. The budget cap had demanded compromises. She hadn’t been able to implement the full package she’d thrown together back in March. That version of the MCL60 was meaner, leaner, cleverer — a little monster of a thing. A title fighter.

But this was the one they could afford. And she’d made it the best it could be.

Oscar stepped beside her, helmet tucked under his arm, race suit halfway unzipped. “Doesn’t look like a paper towel on wheels anymore.”

She hummed. “No. More like... a reinforced napkin. Maybe a placemat.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “How confident are you?”

She exhaled slowly. “Seventy percent we’re in the points. Fifty percent one of you surprises me. Zero percent we DNF. I’ve triple-checked the aero modelling. You’re safe.”

He nodded, quiet for a moment. Then, “I know it’s not what you wanted.”

“No,” she said honestly. “It’s not. But it’s what we’ve got. And it’s good enough to fight for points rather than the chequered flag.”

Oscar squeezed her shoulder. Tight. “I trust you.”

There was something boyish in the way he said it. Uncomplicated. She smiled and nudged him toward the car. “Go, ducky.”

“Still don’t like that.”

“Don’t care.”

—

By Sunday, the paddock was electric.

The buzz was real. The performance gains were visible. And people were talking.

After qualifying, someone from Sky asked Lando if he felt like McLaren were back in the fight for ‘best of the rest’.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. We’ve got Amelia Norris to thank for that.”

That one made her throat pinch.

Later, back in the garage, she caught Andrea’s eye as he leaned over the pit wall screens. He grinned, then gave her a thumbs-up.

Even her dad, who’d spent the last several months managing expectations to sponsors and shareholders, gave her a bear hug that nearly knocked her clipboard out of her hands.

“You’ve made believers out of us again, kiddo,” he said into her ear. “They’re already asking about 2024.”

Amelia stepped back and smiled tightly. “Let us get through this race first.”

—

Lando was flying. Oscar was right on his gearbox. And Amelia was vibrating in her seat, headset digging into her ears.

The car wasn’t just competitive; it was racy. Bold. Alive.

She and Will traded glances as they watched Lando chase down Lewis.

“This is all you,” Will said.

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her heart was somewhere near her throat.

Oscar’s voice crackled in her ear. “Is this what driving a real car feels like?”

Amelia couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Keep it clean, ducky. Still a few laps to go.”

“Is my wife crying tears of joy right now?” Lando asked over his radio. “I bet she is.”

“She is.” Will said.

“Liar.” Amelia laughed, and okay, maybe she did sound a bit choked up.

—

The crowd was still roaring and Amelia was frozen beside the pit wall, headset hair sticking out from under her cap, breathing like she’d just done the full length of the race herself.

It wasn’t a win.

But it was enough.

Lando ran up behind her and flung his arms around her shoulders, lifting her slightly off the ground as she shrieked.

“Put me down, you sweaty idiot—!”

“We did it!”

“You did it.”

“No,” Lando said, spinning her once before finally setting her down. “You did.”

He kissed her, quick and messy, and the cameras were definitely watching, but she didn’t care. She’d earned this moment.

Oscar wandered over and offered her a half-hearted fist bump.

“Better than a placemat,” he grinned lopsidedly.

“Almost a dinner plate,” she agreed.

He laughed, and then he took her to watch the podium.

Max on top. Lewis next. And then her Lando.

Her husband.

Beaming right at her.

She made Oscar hug her. Needed the deep-pressure to cut through the overwhelming joy coursing through her veins. Somebody took a picture and posted it on Twitter with the tag ‘Best racer/engineer duo EVER’.

—

Amelia was sitting cross-legged on their hotel bed, notebook open in her lap, notes scribbled in every margin.

Lando walked out of the shower, towel around his waist, hair damp.

“You’re still working?”

She looked up. “I’m trying to figure out how to sneak in another mini upgrade before Qatar.”

Lando crossed the room and kissed the top of her head. “You’re mad, you know.”

Amelia frowned. “I’m not.”

He slid into bed beside her. “C’mere. Work can wait till tomorrow.”

She paused, then closed the notebook and handed it to him. “Don’t lose it,” she warned. “That’s the future in your hands.”

He looked at the cover, scuffed, dented, covered in papaya and coffee stains, and held it like it was a sacred text.

“We’re going to have podium celebration sex now.” She told him. “I bought chequered flag lingerie.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh—Holy shit. You did?”

She smiled. 

[skelesnakesposts]

Ok so I ended up writing 12k words, I'll put the first chapter in here and link the ao3 bellow because I'm not gonna make people read all of that.

Chapter 1:

After what felt like an eternity, the bell finally rang, signalling the end of class. Lily had just survived the most boring math lesson of her life, and she was beyond relieved to be free. She packed her books as fast as she could while the teacher reminded everyone about the test on Friday.

She filed out with the rest of her classmates and made a beeline for her locker across the hall. As she was packing up to go home, Eve approached.

“Hey, Lily. I’m really sorry—I have to cancel again. My mom wants me home. Some family stuff came up.”

“Okay… Do you know when you’ll actually be able to work on the project? It’s due next week, and Ms. Maken will kill us if we don’t get it done. It’s like fifty percent of our final grade.”

“I know, I’m really sorry. I’m not sure when I’ll have time, but I’ll let you know as soon as I can, okay?”

“Fine. I’m going to start on my section—it’ll take a while anyway. Just send me your part whenever you get the chance. I’ll handle the formatting,” Lily said, obviously annoyed.

“Thank you so much, Lily. You’re a lifesaver,” Eve replied with forced gratitude—her tone made it obvious she wasn’t planning to contribute much.

“I’d better go. See you Monday, Eve. Hopefully, everything’s okay with your family.”

“Thanks. See you Monday.”   Eve turned and walked away.

Not long after, Lily headed home. She had a mountain of work waiting for her and couldn’t afford to waste time. Wanting to beat the early evening darkness, she decided to take a shortcut.

The alley between the vape shop and one of the dozen nearly identical phone stores shaved several minutes off her walk. It let out just a block or two from her house—close enough to feel convenient, not far enough to feel dangerous.

At least, not usually.

Halfway down the alley, she spotted a couple of shadowy figures. She paused. Should she really walk toward them?

“Whatever,” she muttered. “It’s fine.”

It was not fine. Walking toward strangers in a sketchy alley was objectively a terrible decision.

As she got closer, the figures began arguing—loudly.

“What do you mean you lost it? You had one job!”

Lily stopped cold.   She knew that voice.   “Uncle David?”

He didn’t turn, too caught up in yelling at the stranger.

“You think I meant to? I worked my ass off to get that! You seriously think I’d just hand it over?”

Lily opened her mouth to call out again—but then she saw something that made her freeze.

Plants—real plants—were snaking up around the stranger’s neck.

She blinked.

She had to be imagining this. Where would plants even come from in the middle of a concrete alley?

Then the man collapsed.

David turned—and saw her.

His face changed instantly. Panic. Regret. Guilt.

Lily’s heart was hammering. That wasn’t just anyone. That was her uncle. And she had just watched him kill someone?

She took a step back.

��Wait! Lily, it’s not what it looks like!” David called.

“Oh really?” she snapped, eyes wide. “Because it looked like you just murdered someone.”

David raised his hands, staying where he was. “Okay, it was—kind of. But you can’t tell anyone. It’s not like they’ll believe you anyway. You’ll end up in a mental hospital, they’ll think you’re insane.”

Lily stared at him. “You’re my uncle, David. How am I supposed to process the fact that you just choked a guy with plants? What even is that?”

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” he muttered.

“You think that makes it better?” she said, her voice high and shaky. “How the hell am I supposed to act normal after this? I could still call the police and say you strangled him with a rope or something. That’d be enough to get you arrested.”

David let out a slow, tired sigh.

“Okay, but… are you really going to do all that?”

The way he said it—so calm, so certain—made her stomach twist.   And, frustratingly, he wasn’t wrong. Her brain was still catching up.

The alley was silent now, thick with tension.

After a long pause, David spoke again.

“Look, I know this is a lot. But what you saw wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“You mean the part where vines came out of nowhere and strangled a man?” she said, arms crossed. “Yeah. Not exactly the family reunion I expected.”

David nodded wearily. “Right. So, let’s start over. I’ll explain. But I have so many questions.”

“Shoot”

She narrowed her eyes. “So that thing with the vines… that was magic, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

Lily exhaled, trying to centre herself. “Okay. So magic is real. Cool. Just what I needed to round out my week.”

David gave a tired smile. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”

“Well, I haven’t passed out yet, so that’s something.”

“Yeah that’s a good sign. You said you had a lot of questions, you may as well keep going.”

“Yeah ok. How did you even know you could do magic? And what about me? Is there a chance I could do it too?”

“There’s a test for that.”

“Seriously? It’s that simple?”

“Pretty much. All we need is a piece of paper, a drop of your blood, and a basic spell.”

“That’s it?”

“You sound disappointed. We’ve got better tools these days. No full ritual required.”

She rolled her eyes. “So… when and where are we doing this? Because I want to know but I need to be home before my parents start asking questions.”

“I know a guy. He’s about ten minutes from here, and the test only takes five. I can bring you in and get the test done, but if you don’t test positive you have to forget that all of this ever happened. I’ll have you home right after. Deal?”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

and here's the link for the rest if you want to read more:

Wait, are you saying that magic is real?" "Yes." "And you can test if I have magical potential?" "Yes. It's simple: a piece of paper, a drop of your blood, and a simple spell."

[star-suh]

The Protector.

Lee Hoseok x Male Reader.

cw: bodyguard top wonho, bottom rich reader.

—

yn is the son of an important businesswoman of the city, at 22 yn got uses to get what he wanted –the new luxury item on the market, a designer piece of clothes or even someone’s attention– but sometimes being in the eye of the public and with such a quantity of money behind someone’s back could put a target – a red dot– on someone’s forehead and that’s what happened to yn. lately he has been receiving a lot of anonymous calls, death threats and the feeling of someone always watching him –ready to jump on him and do what those threats say, seeing how he was in danger, his mother had to take action, she hired a bodyguard that would be protecting his son 24/7.

“here’s your new bodyguard son” his mother says, taking a step to the side so he can enter the lobby, here he is –tall, muscular, his arms and broad back straining against the black suit– he exuded such a strong aura and was very professional, something that trapped yn, like a moth to a flame. so naturally the flirting came, yn always made sentences emphasizing how the suits hugged his body so tightly, how he’s so muscular, so big, “i won’t mind being pinned down by you. you know, for safety reasons”, the joke falling flat to wonho’s ears, “focus yn,i’m here just to keep you safe”, his responses were always short, just a few words that were enough to shut y up for a moment. but this didn’t stopped yn to keep going, because he can see something flickering on his eyes, a little bit of heat igniting behind his eyes that held some intensity to it.

then that fateful night happened, there was a family meeting and yn was there, bored of the adults talking nonsenses that he didn’t understand –he was just there accompanying his mom with his bodyguard to his side as always, the smell of his cologne feeling like a drug for yn. then one of the other bodyguards received an enveloped, yn’s name on it scribbled in what it looks like it’s blood, he opened the letter and it says ‘tick tock, at eleven o’clock the basement would be gone’ chaos erupted in the room, everyone leaving as soon as they can –there were only minutes left for 11:00 pm to come– everyone fled to find a safe spot outside the building, “take my son far away from here”, ms. ln told wonho and he obeyed, grabbing yn and running towards the black SUV. in the road outside the city, wonho spotted a motel where they can lay low for a couple of days, parking the SUV there while asking for separate rooms, unfortunately there was only one room left, so he took it saying he could sleep on the couch while yn does it on the bed.

yn lay on the bed, taking off his jacket, staying with a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, all while wonho peeked through the curtains, seeing if there’s something suspicious happening outside, his posture is rigid, his gun ready to fire.

“this is boring, the tv only has like two channels and the wi-fi signal is bad” he tossed the phone to one side of the mattress. “you’re safe and that’s what matters”, wonho said. “why don't you drop the professionalism for once. come on we’re alone wonho, that bodyguard act makes you ten times hotter but just drop it for five minutes at least”. his eyes locked onto yn’s, “i was hired to protect you, not entertain you” he voiced, putting his gun on the nightstand and sitting on the couch. “protect me i see…” yn trailed and then chuckled, “why don’t you protect me from this cold night then. come over here” he pats the side of the bed.

wonho felt heat creeping up his neck, becoming flushed, “would you ever watch your mouth?” he fixed his posture, “i know you like this so why would i stop?”, he sits on the bed, “i know the way you watch me, you think i’m not paying attention but i do” a grin appearing on yn’s face –you might be good at your job but you suck at hiding things” he added, “i’ll keep pushing until you break, until you give in and give me what i want” he muttered lowly with a sexy tone, crawling in the bed that was right i front of the couch where wonho was sitting.

“i don’t mix my work with personal matters. as i said i’m supposed to protect you not fuck you” wonho loosened up his tie, it felt like it was choking him, “there’s always a first time for everything” yn smirked at wonho, his chin resting over his hands that were placed on the edge of the bed. wonho stood up and walked towards yn, he stopped right in front of him –his crotch inches apart of yn’s face, he was there looking down at yn with those hunter dark eyes. he grabs his face, both hands placed on his cheeks –pulling his face up to make eye contact– “you don’t have any idea of what you’re asking for, boy” his low voice making yn’s body shiver. “then why don’t you show me?” submissiveness laced on yn’s voice.

yn’s face was pressed against wonho’s crotch, sniffing into his manly scent, feeling the bulge growing inside those clothes. he is then pulled up by wonho and then is thrown to the center of the bed –wonho crawled quickly over yn, lips latched on the other’s. his hands pinning yn’s hips in place. yn gasped, feeling breathless by wonho’s rough kisses, he melted on the kiss while his hands took off the other’s jacket and shirt –the tie still around his neck, hanging loosely. yn’s fingers quickly found wonho’s massive chest, squeezing and kneading the skin there and also playing with his nipples –swallowing his moans in the act.

yn kept tugging at his tie to deepen the kiss while wonho’s hips moved on their own, frotting his bulge on yn’s ass, the legs of the latter locked on the other’s hips. “just because i did what you wanted doesn’t mean i’m not in charge” wonho spoke in between pants and wet sloppy kisses to which yn responded with “i didn’t pretend to be in charge anyway”.

wonho as the strong man he is ripped yn’s shirt and in a swift motion pulled down both his pants and underwear leaving him completely naked under him, then his mouth latched on yn’s throat –nipping at the skin there while his hands unbuckled his belt to take off his the remaining pieces of clothes on his body. “you’re so fucking hot” yn whimpered, “you have no idea how much i wanted this”. one of wonho’s hands wrapped around yn’s dick while the other worked on his hole, coating it in saliva and stretching him open with scissoring motions. then he finally pushes himself into yn, the stretch making yn moan louder. the room quickly got filled with those arousing wet sounds accompanied by filthy words that wonho whispered on the bottom’s ear –each word making him more and more horny. the headboard of the bed slammed against the wall and the bed creaking as equally as wonho’s rough thrust were, the pace perfect to fuck some attitude out of yn, to make him realize who’s the one in charge in this work relationship.

yn’s hands clawed at wonho’s broad, muscular back, his nails leaving traces –marks of how good he was feeling thanks to him. the stinging pain didn’t matter, it’s being drowned by the delicious sensation down there, it’s like heaven. “wonho” yn slurred, hugging wonho tightly –he doesn’t want this night to end– this flipped a switch inside the bodyguard, “say my name again” purposefully slowing down his thrusts to make the other whimpers, the painfully slow drags of his cock inside his ass making him squirm, he wanted more, he needs more.

“please wonho, harder… fill me up” tears pooling on his hooded eyes, if there was an ounce of self-restraint left in wonho is completely gone now, he thrusted as fast as any human could do, yn’s words coming out shaky, gritting his teeth when he felt the climax coming –coming like a tidal wave– he came on his stomach, some of it sticking to the other’s perfectly toned abs. he is followed then by wonho who pulls out to stroke his cock, aiming the tip directly towards the bottom’s gape hole to shoot his load inside him. when he’s done he puts it back again to thrust a few times more. the bed is drenched in sweat and fluids, wonho didn’t pulled out, he stayed there buried, “i’ll tell my mom to give you a rise if you keep doing this to me” yn jokes, “shut up” wonho grinned, “i would’ve let you cockwarm me but i still have a job to do” wonho stood up and went towards the bathroom to clean himself. yn remained on the bed, his chest heaving. oh these next months are going to be very fun.

[eddiazx]

homecoming - eddie diaz x reader

Eddie hears her before he sees her.

An adorable voice that comes from several feet away. A voice belonging to a child, a child that was roughly 7 or 8 years old, probably the same age as Christopher. 

Eddie had been with the 118 for three months by now. He truly loves the job; it was rewarding and he loved being in service of people. Among their calls though, there were quite a handful of cats getting stuck in trees. Which was why they were currently at a park, Eddie resting a foot behind him against the fire engine, while he watches Buck climb up a ladder to extract the cat. Chim was popping his gum, explaining a new sci-fi flick that just came out to Hen, who to her credit, was doing a great job acting like she cared. 

“Are you a firefighter?” The voice had asked. Eddie looks down at the little girl, a girl who looked so very familiar with her hair in two braids and brown doe eyes. 

Eddie smiles automatically, and crouches down to be at the same height as the girl. “What gave it away?” He jokes, and he’s met with the sweetest giggle that he swears could cure diseases. 

“My mommy said that firefighters are unsung heroes. We actually had one come to the coffee shop that my mommy owns. It’s named after me! I don’t drink coffee though, I’m still too little. I do love the honey banana bread she makes though! That's why my mom calls me bee."

Eddie listens with patience, a soft smile on his face at the little girl’s rambling. Chris does the same thing - gets very enthusiastic and starts over-explaining with run-on sentences. It’s the most endearing quality ever, in Eddie’s opinion. 

“Yeah? Do you know where your mommy is now?” Eddie asks.

“Bee, what did we say about you running off without telling me?” A voice asks. Eddie’s eyes follow the voice and is met with an assault on all his senses, including a very clear pang in his chest. 

You look even better than you had nine years ago, which Eddie didn’t even think could be possible, since he already thought you were gorgeous when the two of you had dated at 18 years old. 

Your face drops when you realize who your daughter was talking to. The boy, or rather the man, who had broken your heart all those years ago. The one who your daughter shared DNA with. The one who didn’t even know he had another child, because you had left Texas for L.A. the second the strip turned pink. 

You recover quickly, putting your hands on your daughter’s shoulders. “Hey bee, Milo was asking if you wanted to play go-fish. Can you head over there? Mommy will be just a minute.” 

“Okay!” She tells you with a beaming grin. She then turns to Eddie, and says, “I liked talking to you firefighter man! You should come to my mommy’s shop sometime!” With that, she runs over to where your friends and family were. 

You internally curse the fact that your daughter was such a social butterfly, before finally meeting Eddie’s eyes. He looks like he was struck by lightning; eyes wide and mouth gaping. He was reeling, and you couldn’t really blame the guy. 

“She’s mine.” He says, eventually. It isn’t a question, rather, a simple statement, but you nod anyway. The familiarity that he had seen in the child makes so much sense now, down to the quirk of her smile that you have - but he could also see features of himself in her. The pang in Eddie’s chest was now reduced to a chronic, dull ache at all the years and memories he wasn’t there for. Again.

“I know it’s a lot to ask”, he starts, voice rough but surprisingly steady for someone who just received world-altering news, “but I think Christopher - my son, and I would love to get to know her more. I feel like they’d get along great. Could we all get to know each other?” The words feel wrong a bit, because there was a time where Eddie and you had known each other inside and out. Likes, dislikes, dreams, fears, and life goals - you had practically been an Eddie Diaz encyclopedia.

You’re pensive as you consider his request. You knew this day would come, where you would have to have this conversation with the father of your child. It doesn’t stop the fear gripping your insides, the fear that he would get close to the two of you, and then proceed to leave. It was a fear that was supremely unfair to Eddie, because he didn’t know when he chose to marry Shannon that you had been in the same predicament. And you didn’t know that hours before he was due at the altar, he had stood in front of your then empty house, desperately hoping you would tell him not to marry Shannon.

So with a rapidly beating heart, you smile softly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get to know each other.” 

[wandanatsgf]

Mommy’s Here

Pairing: Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

Summary: After your bio mom kicks you out Wanda, your loving stepmom, takes you in

Warning: there’s mentions/implied abusive parents in this story. Also Wanda and R’s relationship isn’t healthy.

Author’s Note: i will probably expand on this story at some point. If you want a part 2 lmk!

Your whole body is shaking as you stand on your dad’s and stepmom’s porch. You have a bag with some necessities in it, some clothes, university textbooks, and laptop, things you couldn’t leave at your mom’s house. Tho bffs you knew she’d throw away the second you walked out the door.

You raise a fist to knock on the sage green door, rapping on it twice before it opens.

Wanda opens the door and the sight shes greeted with isn’t pleasant. You’re wet from the rain, your hair plastered to your face and clothes drenched. There’s a chill seeping into your bones, making you shake and shiver.

“Oh baby,” she says, taking you into her arms. Her arms envelope you, pulling you into her chest. You crumple against your stepmoms body, her arms hold you up as she walks the two of you over to the couch. She removes your bag, setting it off to the side then sits the two of you down with you on top of her.

“Shhh it’s ok baby. I’m right here,” the older woman coos into your ear. She rocks you back and forth in her lap, one arm around your waist while the other cradles your back. Your head is lying on her chest, so close that you can feel her heartbeat.

Being this close to your stepmom isn’t normal, you know that, yet you let yourself fall deeper into her. You convince yourself that maybe this is okay, Wanda can give you that parental love you desperately craved growing up. It’s okay, being held by her. Loved by her, it’s all okay.

You can feel tears slip from your eyes and fall down your face. Wanda’s right hand cradles your face and her thumb swipes over your cheek, wiping them all away. Eventually your tears subside and all that’s left are quiet sniffles.

“Do you want to talk about it, honey?” She asks after you’ve quieted down. Her tone is soft and her voice quiet, as if she’s scared of spooking you if she speaks any louder. You nod your head yes.

“She kicked me out. Forever this time,” you say, referencing your biological mom. Your words are muffled against Wanda’s chest but she understands you. She tightens her hold on you, as if she’s unwilling to let you go. Your body slumps against her.

“I’m sorry baby. You know you’re always welcome here,” she tells you and it’s the truth. Wanda has always welcomed you into her and your father’s house with open arms.

Over the past two years since Wanda married your father, your mother had kicked you out numerous times, whenever she got upset at you, she told you to leave. But this time was permanent. She needed your room for her stepkids now that she had also remarried. So that left you with nowhere to go but your dads and Wanda’s place.

Luckily your father is away in yet another work trip, leaving just you and Wanda alone.

Every time you left Wanda’s house to go back to your mom’s it broke Wanda’s heart. She knew your mom would just hurt you again, but still she let you go.

Wanda had always been there to support you, to welcome you into her house, which she insists is also yours. She was always so maternal with you. Taking care of you, getting you anything you needed. Maybe somewhere along the way a wire got crossed, because the word that almost falls out of your mouth were never meant to be said.

“Thank you mo-Wanda,” you say quickly correcting yourself. You’re not sure why you almost called her mommy, but it felt right. Still you correct yourself, not knowing how she would react to that word.

“What were you going to say, honey?” Her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s staring at you intently. There’s a small smile on her face as she looks down at you.

“Nothing,” you say choosing to pretend like you hadn’t almost called her mommy.

“Don’t lie to mommy, baby.” She reprimands you. It makes you feel weird, but you like it.

“I’m sorry mommy.”

“It’s okay sweet girl.” She smooths a hand through your hair and the action comforts you. You snuggle deeper into Wanda’s embrace, her presence a soothing balm to you.

You can’t see it, but Wanda is smiling. Ever since she had met you she had longed for this moment, for the day you gave in to her. The day you let her be your mommy and now it’s finally here.

“You’re okay baby. Mommy won’t let her hurt you again.” Wanda’s words are comforting to you. Knowing that someone cares about you that much, that they love you that much, has you melting.

As your body relaxes you can feel exhaustion taking over. Your eyelids droop and soon you’re drifting off.

“Go to sleep baby. Mommy will be here when you wake up.”

You fall asleep in her arms. There’s a smile on your face, which is so different from the expression you were wearing when Wanda opened the door.

Wanda gently picks you up and moves you to her bed. She take soft your wet clothes and slips one of her oversized shirts on you before pulling the covers down so she can slip between them, lying down next to you. She pulls you against her, her body spooning yours.

“Mommy’s here baby,” she says, even though you can’t hear her. “I’ll always be here.”

[nite-puff]

i said i was gonna do this a long ass time ago. but here we go

RANDO MICHI HEADCANONS PART DOS!!!!! BECAUSE TODAY’S THE DAY I HEADCANON AS HIS BIRTHDAY!!

here’s part 1, which mostly goes into a lot of what my version of his backstory is (some headcanons from that list provide context for some stuff on this list). this is just some more add ons. this’ll most likely not be as long as part 1. but eh. let’s get started.

- “michi” was around before “takemichi.” it was the nickname his mom gave him when he was a baby because he reminded her of a cat. he was only called michi by his mom at first, but his dad always called him by his given name.

- he was the loner type before he met mondo. didn’t have friends and didn’t like being approached by classmates in fear that the girls would judge him and the boys would pick on him. he was just content with eating his lunch at the back of the class or a part of the school that was usually empty.

- when he met mondo, he introduced himself as “michi.” he associates the nickname with good things and fond memories. so he’d rather let this new boy who he really wants to be friends with call him that rather than his given name, which his father always said in a way that put a pit in his stomach.

- as their friendship started to blossom, michi always found himself admiring mondo. whether it be his mannerisms, the way he dressed, the way he spoke, his strength, everything. at first he thought he had a crush on mondo, but the thought of that made him want to jump in a ditch. so he just kept sitting there, wondering why this boy captivated him.

- “why do ya keep starin’ at me like that?? you got somethin’ ya wanna say??”

- “i wish i could swap bodies with you.”

- “o-oh??”

- it took mondo some getting used to when it came to michi’s straightforwardness.

- i like imagining how a friendship between a young mondo “i need to touch everyone i care about all the time or else how will they know i love them” owada and a young takemichi “don’t you dare FUCKING TOUCH ME or i’ll bite you” yukimaru would’ve started out.

- it started out bumpy. but they got the hang of it. the occasional shoulder pat and fist bump and then, when michi started to open up to mondo more, head pats.

-michi would still deck mondo if he ever tried to pull a “sneak attack” on him. even as they got older.

- i think the funniest possible future non-despair au career for him is a lawyer. look at my lawyer dawg. im going to jail.

- to take it a little more seriously. he’s a defense lawyer who defends a lot of young street kids that get caught up with the law while trying to fend for themselves. just to kind of bring it full circle.

- i know i headcanoned him as allergic to dogs last post. but im starting to walk back on that.

- prolly because i thought of him adopting a really big “scary” dog when he gets older, to contrast mondo and chuck.

- she’s a pitbull named duckie. she was rescued from a dog fighting ring and is a huge sweetheart.

- training her was very natural due to his experience from being mondo’s friend and right-hand man.

- mondo’s nickname for him is “michi.” daiya’s nickname for him is “shrimp.”

- he’s almost always underestimated by new gang members. especially those who want to join the elite guard. he always makes sure to remind them that he’s the lead guard for a reason.

- he can kind of be a showman with his fighting. something about bosozoku being inherently flashy and him being good enough at the technique that he can have fun with it.

- takaaki tried to show him how to use a gun after the tragedy. michi was really bad at it.

- hiroko really wants to get to know him and get him to trust her. she’s a lot of her younger self in him and wants him to know that she’ll be there for him as he grows up.

- he eventually gets a couple of tattoos to honor the owadas and the rest of the gang.

- he keeps a shrine for them as well. he occasionally prays at it, even if he’s not really superstitious. he swears he feels their presence sometimes despite that.

that’s it for now! i love this freak!

[she-whatshername]

Bodhi Week: The Right Hand

I’m going to try to post something each day for the prompts so here’s a little for the first day of Bodhi week. Also, happy mums day to all the moms, mothers and m(o)therly figures. I also am posted without a deep proof read so enjoy lolol

Day 1: Right Hand | Bodhi said he is Xaden’s right-fucking-hand. Wherever Xaden goes, Bodhi follows. Explore that.

Xaden had faced many trials in his life. Raised in a fortress to become a duke, his mother’s abandonment, rebellion, his father’s death, fostering, Basgiath, the whole becoming a Venin for love. War. Loss. From the moment of his birth, truly he had few moments in his life of peace. Yet, when peace had finally found him, foes vanquished, a rightful heir on the throne of Navarre, and his own duchy returned to him. Finally he himself being fucking cured. All of the moments of the present should surpass any pain of the past.

Yet.

Xaden still had trials and tribulations. And of all the creatures who bested him, it was his very own genetics.

Aurora was crying again. HIs sweet, perfect little girl was a mess in his arms. Thrashing and kicking and wanting nothing to do with her father. He couldn’t blame her, they both had been up since midnight and after he walked her up and down every hallway and corridor in Riorson House, they both stood exhausted in the kitchen with Xaden holding his girl in one hand while the other desperately tired to fiddle with the stove to heat up some milk. One thing was certain, he would not wake up Violet. Absolutely not. He could handle this.

War. Rebellion, Veninism, he overcame it all. A teething daughter, this was a walk across the parpet for him.

“Can I-“

“I don’t need your help, Bodhi.” Xaden snarled, his eyes half on his crying daughter and on the flame of the stove. None of his attention on Bodhi who stood next to him. But even he could tell he was fighting a smirk.

“I was going to say assist.” Bodhi corrected, his smirk finally forming, “Not help. But assist.”

“What do you know about assisting a child who wont sleep for the second night in a row?”

He shrugged, moving the kettle off of the flames to a back burner, “Rowan and Kiara were both little monsters when their teeth came in. And I imagine the boys to be the same in a couple of months.” Right, Bodhi had been a father for years now with two additions to his growing family. Garrick had joked he and his wife were taking the rebuilding of Aretia as more of a repopulation. And honestly, Xaden couldn’t be more proud of his cousin. He was an excellent father.

But that doesn’t mean he gets to know that. Xaden couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. Bodhi kept smiling.

“So, can I be of assistance?”

“You’re really making me ask?”

“I mean I could tell you to say please, but then I would just be mean.”

His daughters wails were now pressing into the depths of his soul. So he would do as any father would, swallow his pride. “Fine, please assist me.”

“Gladly.” Bodhi turned and opened the drawer in front of him to pull out a cloth. Next he walked into the cold room, to retrieve a vase filled with some unknown liquid. Dipping the cloth in the cold water he walked back over Xaden, gently pulling his free hand and wrapping the wet material around his finger tip. “This is chilled chamomile tea. Lucky for us, you’ve kept the family chef hired since we were kids, so I always know she has some stored in the cold room. A little bit of this on a wet cloth, and Aurora will be soothed in no time.”

Bodhi guided Xaden’s finger towards his daughters wailing lips, gently settling his finger along her sore gums. And, as if Bodhi grew a third signet, Aurora became silent as she gnawed on her fathers finger.

Xaden closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. He stood there, holding his daughter as her eyes began to grow heavy with sleep. Just a few more minutes and, yes. Asleep at last.

“Try it in the morning and right before bed. It can help with any restless nights.” Bodhi adds while he walks over to sit at the kitchen table. Xaden turned slowly, eyeing his cousin.

“Suppose I owe you for this.”

“I’m your right hand, Xaden. It’s my job.”

Xaden paused. The war was over, he was cured, and they’ve all grown in the years. But, throughout those years, Bodhi was always there. Even if it was a step behind. Helping everyone hide in Riorson House during the battle of Aretia. Soothing the smaller kids during their days at Calldyr. Always watching out for everyone. Protecting Violet when he couldn’t. Taking the duchy when Xaden couldn’t. Yet, as much as Xaden thought he made it public that he didn’t need a right hand, Bodhi was still there. Just as he is now.

“Thank you, Bodhi.” Xaden finally said.

Bodhi tilted his head, “You should get some sleep, you’re starting to sound…nice.”

Another glare. But Bodhi was right, Xaden was exhausted. “What are you doing up anyways?”

“I figured I’d make the kids breakfast, save Mal some trouble this morning. Get some sleep and I’ll make some extra for you and Violet.”

“I’m tired but I’m not weak enough for you to feed me.”

But Xaden didn’t really protest when Bodhi helped fasten Aurora to his chest with a large cloth so he could close his eyes just slightly so he could get a small amount of rest. He knew Bodhi would wake him if overslept or if Aurora needed anything. Still he kept his arms wrapped around her, knowing that even if occupied, he always had his right hand.

[jeyusosqueen]

GifCredit: @samijey

Southern Charm (Jey Uso x OC)

Chapter 15:After Every Storm There Is A Rainbow

TW: Miscarriage, Grief, Blood

Sara

Sara awoke one morning feeling excruciating pain. Then she saw it, the blood. She let out a blood curling scream as Joshua ran in “Baby wha-“ Then he saw everything. Joshua wasted no time in picking her up off the bed as he rushed her to the hospital. Sara was screaming and crying, not having any idea what was going on. They got into the ER as she was wheeled back. The doctor assessing that she miscarried of one twin, but the other one was still alive. Sara broke down into tears after finding out the loss of their child, a beautiful girl. But the other twin, a boy was still alive in the womb. She thanked God for that of course but her heart still grieved for their daughter. Her face buried into Joshua’s chest as her tears fell. Josh called family to let them know what was going on.

Jey

The loss of their baby hit Joshua even harder than most thought. He went outside and punched the wall as Jon and Trinity soothed him. Jon said calmly “Bro, it’s not your fault what happened. “ Josh’s jaw clenched as he said through his tears “Then why does God hate me enough that he took away our daughter huh? Thats not fair to either one of us. We were gonna name her after Sara’s mom. This is just… “ He broke down into tears as he felt a hand on his shoulder turning around seeing his father in law. Sara’s dad just hugged him as he had been crying too “I’m here for you both, through everything. Believe me when I say that. “ Josh was grateful to have him there “Thank you for being here. I want you to know I truly love your daughter, sir. I will never hurt her. I promise you that. “ Josh then hugged him tight as he went back in the room.

Sara

She was happy to see her Dad and Josh getting along again. She was finally able to go back home as she got into the tub. It was as if she were staring into an abyss. She had dreams of her baby daughter. How beautiful she would be, a beautiful mixture of them both. Josh’s smile and her brown eyes, her daddy’s world. She started sobbing again as she heard his voice. Josh knelt beside the tub as he washed her face and back as he stared into her eyes. Her voice cracking “I’m so sorry. I let you down, lost our girl…” Josh firmly gripped her hand and shook his head “No. Don’t start this, this aint your fault. God had a different plan for her. “ He felt the tears coming into his eyes as he kissed her softly “We can always try again soon. Give you time to heal. Don’t want to rush anything. I’m happy with the girls and the little boy we will soon have. Speaking of, we need to figure out a good name. Maybe after your Dad? Charles or Charlie for short. “ He suggested as he held her close and rocked her.

Jey

Josh was broken up over this as he told his family what happened. Not being able to get the words out. His concern was for Sara and her health. All he wanted was her safe and healthy. He saw the empty lost look on her face. He just held her as she cried. He was trying to be the strong one here, strong for her. But he could no longer hold it in as he just buried his face in her neck. Tears filling his eyes as he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear “I love you always and forever. Never ever forget that, you hear me Uce? “ He said as he kissed her on the lips, tasting the salt of her tears. “I fucking love you and I will never give up on you or us. You hear me? “ He said as he just held her. 

Sara

Through her pain and her broken heart, she was afraid she lost his love. All she wanted was to be held and loved right now. She whispered as Jesus did on the cross “My God, my god, why have you forsaken me? “ Josh just rocked her. The two of them on this journey of grief together. What was next for them? She didnt know. All she knew was that she was afraid to lose him.

P.S. : I’m sorry I had everyone break out the tissues, dont worry it will get better! I promise!

TagList: @charmed-dreamssss, @nayys-world, @uceyliyahh, @jstarr86, @levissslutt, @baybehkay, @mselenalovebug

[ofredinspeed]

Barry was clumsy by nature. He swore he always believed he had two left feet. Believed he was incapable of walking in a straight line. He was far from smooth. He was awkward, and goofy, but with Kara he wished he was able to sweep her off her feet. And given her care for him. She wanted to give him the best care in the world; it was obvious with the fluffy of pillows, the way she wanted to get that swelling down on his swollen ankle. The thing was Barry didn’t want the brunette to see him as weak, like he wasn’t able to care for himself. We agreed for him to rest a tad longer. 

But then he’d promise to sit in a chair at the festival in order to keep Kara happy. He wanted to take part in her own traditions, he wanted to see that bubbly smile of hers. But he also wanted to protect himself in this. He didn’t want her to go overboard on his recovery, the second the cold compress was lifted to his ankle he whined slightly simply because of the discomfort. Because of him needing that time to adjust to the feeling of ice again. “ I know, and I care about you too Kara, which is why I don’t want us to stay cooped up here all day, you and your family have welcomed me into your home, taken care of me. And I want to take part in the holiday you all love, I love this time of the year too.” Holidays can be sad for someone who doesn't have family but Barry had two, Iris and Joe, who welcomed him in when his mom died, and his dad was gone, and now Kara and her family extended the love for him. He cared about Kara and didn’t want her to feel like she had to tend to his every whim, he wanted to be an anchor for her. A soft smile continued along his lips as he felt her frame shift onto the bed. Her head on his shoulder and he sniffed her hair; vanilla, the perfect scent in his opinion. 

“ I mean it can’t get worse, I can’t walk for hours, I can’t over exhaust myself, the window appears to be a great exit..” Jokingly clearly he was tired exhausted of feeling helpless with Kara, his feelings surely getting the best of him, warmth filled him hearing that she didn’t blame him. “ He likes you, you know that’s why he did it..” As if Kara was that obvious to boys forming crushes on her; unless she just chose to deny how I felt; as if I hadn’t said the words yet.

@coolerthanclark

All the hands we’re dealt makes us question the type of people we want to be. Barry Allen; he never had the perfect picture family. He was only a boy when his mother was taken from him. It forced the child inside of him to be scared, to build walls up so high no one would be able to break through. Even now as he was a teen; a teen who felt confused, who was trying to figure out the simple equation of girls. Or in his case one particular girl; one Kara Danvers; she was his best friend for as long as the male could remember. We had met when I was only 6, I remembered the day I met her; she had her brunette locks pulled back into a braid. She wore that set of girl overalls; she had that pink shirt underneath. She smiled at me; at me and I swore my heart bursted wide open. 

I was a goner, I wanted to be with her; for as long as I could remember. We studied together; we spent nearly every lunch period together. We went to every school dance as a pair; she was my plus one or was I hers? Point was we were inseparable from the day we met. She never pitied me for my childhood the whispers regarding my dad; the whispers of what caused my mother’s death. She only ever held my hand and was a listening ear for me. Except we weren’t two kids anymore where our biggest worry was what clothes we wear today. We were in college; and this winter break Kara had invited me to her family home. The family who only ever welcomed me with open arms. I was practically family; which is why I was feeling in the dumps now. Barry was an idiot; he was trying to impress Kara on the ice skates; her friend that was a guy who was shamelessly flirting with her in front of my face and I felt jealous. I wanted to be who she smiled at. I wanted to be the one to hold her hand when we skated. Barry had no fine motor skills with balance so it was the idiot that decided to take his hand off the ledge, he was the fool who attempted to do a circle on thin ice and what happened? He completely lost his own balance and he fell. He twisted his ankle. He was the one who was confided to a bed now; he was on day 4 of his resting. Of course the injury had it’s own set of perks. Kara never left his side; she’d scoot on the mattress right next to him; her head on his shoulder as we made our way through the best set of rom-com movies on Netflix. It was fun but I felt like I was an awful guest. She wasn’t enjoying the winter festivities she talked hours about because of me. I didn’t want Kara to hold regrets; and seeing as the swelling had gone down on my ankle I was being brave. I had okayed it with her mother; and I had managed to stand with my crutches; I wanted to repay the Danvers for their hospitality; I wanted to do one thing right. 

I knew Kara would give me the stern expression; she’d ask me what I was thinking. But right now I had managed to place the garlic bread in the oven along with the home made lasagna in the over; mitten taken from my hand as I inched my frame closer to the marble counter tops. Hands gripping the edge as the ache ran up my leg. Her mother was in the living room keeping an watchful eye on me; knowing she’d step in if I needed assistance. A shaken breath as I heard the jogging of feet run down the stairs; Kara.. A dreamy smile appeared on my lips; I just hoped I didn’t end up getting a scolding.

[raddest-laddest]

ok. someone’s gonna have to come get my dad or i’m gonna tweak.

[locamotivednp]

.

[itspileofgoodthings]

tags continued from prev post.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

I love learning ASL it’s so good. Makes me happy to learn it. I’m so glad my university has classes for it with professors actually steeped in Deaf culture.

[johnlocked-swiftie]

growing up nonwhite in america is just like *your white friends don’t do this* *your white friends have never heard of your favorite food* *your white friends think the way you celebrate this holiday is weird* *your white friends still don’t pronounce your last name right even though it’s been literal years* *your white friends

[bundlebrent]

Apparently my not doing well is noticeable because my boss gave me Friday off and was like hey take a long weekend and go see your family

[thatone-churro]

y’know just as soon as i start getting comfortable with the idea of being open/relying on my dad and him being more comfortable with my choices than i feared, i can essentially throw all that out the window with how vehemently he yelled at me at the thought of my getting my septum pierced (even though i never said i was yet. i said my side before i decide anything else). also making underhanded remarks of me never getting tattoos other than the one for my mom. like okay don’t ask me why i don’t tell you about anything or talk to you or anything. what the fuck.