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pitlanepeach · 1 day ago

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Radio Silence | Chapter Four

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, ableism, strong language.

Notes — They're ridiculous. The entire grid thinks the same. I love them your honour.

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

2019

The door to the motorhome clicked shut behind him, and Lando barely had time to grab a bottle of water from his mini fridge before he heard his name.

“Lando.” His dad’s voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that meant he was either about to get bad news, or he was in a shit ton of trouble.

Lando turned, water bottle halfway to his lips. “Yeah?”

Adam was sitting at the small table in the lounge, one arm draped over the back of the seat. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked more like the man Lando had watched negotiate million-pound deals than the easygoing dad who sent him memes and wore mismatched socks with his dress shoes.

“I spoke to Zak today,” Adam said. “About the two of you.”

Lando blinked, lowered the bottle. “The two of who?”

Adam gave him a look. “Don’t play dumb, kid. People are talking. Zak is… God, I thought he was going to collapse. He’s pissed off, Lando. Thought he could trust you with her.”

Lando felt his entire body go stiff. “We’re just friends.” He forced out.

“Are you?” His dad asked, and then sighed. “We both know how this world works, Lando. I’ve watched you work yourself to the bone for this since you were eight years old. Everything you’ve done, everything we’ve sacrificed — it’s all led you here. And right now, you’re risking all of it meaning nothing.”

Lando shook his head. “No. It’s not like that.”

“Maybe not yet. But it will be. The media will twist it. Her father is your boss. It isn’t just your reputation on the line — if this goes sideways, it could cost you your seat.”

Lando’s jaw clenched. “Zak isn’t like that.”

“No,” Adam agreed, wearily. “But other people are. Sponsors. Management. People who don’t know you. You think they’ll believe this isn’t going to cause favouritism? That you won’t start getting special treatment?”

Lando felt like he was being burned alive. “I would never—.”

“But that’s what it’ll look like.” Adam’s voice stayed even. “It doesn’t matter if it’s true.”

Lando looked away, glared at the wall. His hands clenched into tight fists.

“She’s not just… some girl,” Lando muttered. “She’s smart. And she’s… funny, in her own way. She always knows what she’s talking about. Knows how to make me feel better when I’m in a shit mood.”

Adam just looked at him, steady and quiet. “You like her,” he said. He sounded defeated.

Lando didn’t say anything. Because yeah. Maybe he did. Maybe he liked her a lot. Enough that it scared him a little. Enough that his stomach flipped weirdly every time he saw that rare smile of hers. Enough that he didn’t even know when it had started — just that it had snuck up on him and now it was everywhere.

Adam sighed, reaching a hand up to rub between his eyes. “I’m not saying you have to stop being her friend, mate. I’m just saying that you need to think long and hard about what you want; don’t think like a nineteen year old boy. Think like a world champion.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around the water bottle. The plastic crinkled.

“She’s Zak’s daughter,” Adam stared at him, like he was trying to drill the crux of the issue into him. “You really think that doesn’t come with consequences?”

“I didn’t… mean for it to be like this,” Lando said quietly.

“Sometimes it just sneaks up on you,” he said. “Doesn’t mean it’s always a good thing.” He stood up, gave Lando’s shoulder a light squeeze — the way dads do when they mean I’m not angry, I’m just worried — and then walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Lando stayed frozen in place, staring at the floor, pulse still loud in his ears. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling; just that it was too much, all at once.

He looked at the bottle in his hand. Still full.

Not thirsty anymore.

—

“She said it wasn’t a date,” Tracy said, leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug of tea. “They just got burgers.”

“After qualifying,” Zak pointed out. “He drove her to get burgers. Alone.”

Amelia sat at the kitchen table, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, utterly baffled. “I don’t understand how eating burgers together means that we’re dating. We didn’t even share our fries.”

Tracy snorted softly into her tea. Zak did not laugh.

“This isn’t about fries,” he muttered, pacing. “This is about perception. Do you know how many people saw the two of you together? In public? My phone blew up. There are photos all over instagram. And don’t get me started on how often you’re photographed together in the paddock. I— I was blind. Totally blind.” Great. He’d reached the spiralling stage.

“Well, I texted you where I was!” Amelia said, affronted. “That’s the rule, and I followed it!”

“Yes,” Zak stressed, eyes wide. “An hour after you left the paddock, Amelia! I would’ve stopped you, had I known that he was going to… to steal you like that.”

Tracy giggled. Zak, notably, did not.

Amelia just stared at him, her expression caught somewhere between confused and concerned.

She had never, in all of her nineteen years of life, seen her father act so out of sorts out over something so insignificant.

“Okay, look,” he took a deep breath, rubbing at his forehead like it pained him. “Amelia. Honey. You’re my daughter. And Lando? He’s my driver. If people think that something is going on between you two, it could become a very, very big problem for me. And for Lando. Do you understand that?”

Amelia blinked. She wasn’t stupid. She’d read plenty of romance books on her Kindle since getting it for her fifteenth birthday — and if she and Lando were in a book, she was pretty sure their trope would be “forbidden romance,” maybe even “opposites attract,” though she wasn’t entirely convinced she was Lando’s opposite. More like… Lando adjacent.

It was fun to think about.

But if her dad really believed this could negatively affect Lando’s career… maybe he had a point.

“Okay,” she said seriously. “So how do I stop wanting to kiss him?”

Zak made a sound. Like a dying animal.

Tracy full-on howled into her tea.

“I—oh my god,” Zak muttered, dropping his head into his hands. “No. Nope. I can’t do this.”

Amelia frowned at him, and then looked at her mom. “That wasn’t rhetorical. I would appreciate an answer.”

Zak didn’t respond.

Tracy, tears in her eyes from laughter, leaned over and gave Amelia a tight shoulder squeeze. “You don’t,” she said sweetly. “You just get very good at pretending that you don’t want to.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Zak grumbled into the table. “Great parenting. A masterclass.”

Amelia nodded, serious. “Okay. I can pretend.”

A beat passed.

Then, with total sincerity, she added, “But if he kisses me first, it’s not technically my fault, right?”

Tracy almost spit her tea.

Zak’s forehead hit the table with a thump.

—

Amelia wasn’t eavesdropping. Not on purpose.

She was just looking for her water bottle. She remembered leaving it near the PR area while charging her phone. The door was mostly shut, but not all the way, and when she reached for the handle, hearing her name made her pause.

“Amelia is becoming a bigger problem than I think anyone wants to admit.”

It was Lisa, one of the senior PR officers. She recognised her voice; had sat and eaten lunch with her a few times at the MTC. They only travelled to races with a small PR team, and Lisa was one of them.

Amelia squinted at the gap in the door. She should leave, but it felt like her feet had been glued to the floor.

“She’s sweet,” someone else said. A man she didn’t recognise. “I mean, she’s obviously harmless. It’s not like she’s pulling a Piquet.”

“No, she’s not doing anything wrong,” Lisa agreed, “but she's constantly in the garage, on camera, lingering around Lando like a girlfriend would, or an engineer, but she’s not officially anything. She's Zak’s daughter, yes, but that shouldn’t give her free rein. Should it?”

There was a pause. Someone clicked a pen.

“I know we’re not supposed to say it out loud,” Lisa continued, “but she’s… neurodivergent. There’s only so much control we have over how she’s perceived. She’s different, and I think people can tell.”

Suddenly, it felt a little harder to breathe.

“She, ah, fixates. And she paces. She’s terrible on camera, can’t speak to reporters at all. I saw a thread yesterday, talking about hor she has weird vibes, speculating if Lando’s only spending time with her because she’s Zak’s kid and he’s trying to be a teachers pet.”

“That’s awful,” someone said, though they didn’t sound shocked.

“I know. But if this turns into a tabloid story, it’s not going to be cute anymore. It’s going to look irresponsible. And nepotistic.”

There was a shuffle of paper. A sigh.

“Either we bring her into the fold properly, media train her, give her a title, have Zak back their friendship publicly, or we need to start distancing her. She can’t just float.”

Amelia stepped back, her breath caught somewhere sharp in her ribs. She didn’t realise she was shaking until she saw her own hands.

They hadn’t said anything untrue.

Not really.

But they’d said it like she was a problem to manage instead of a human being with feelings.

She backed away quietly.

She no longer wanted her water bottle.

In fact, she didn’t want to be here at all.

—

She found Lewis leaning against a wall near the back of the Mercedes hospitality unit, Roscoe sprawled on a cooling mat like a little lion in the sun.

He looked up and smiled when he saw her. “Hey, trouble. Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Amelia tried to smile back. It didn’t really work.

Lewis’s face changed. “What’s wrong?”

She sat down heavily next to Roscoe, crossing her legs, arms tight around her ribs. The dog lifted his head, gave her a sniff, then licked her knee. She didn’t react.

Lewis crouched. “Amelia?”

“I’m just,” She sucked in a deep breath. “I think I’m making a mess of everything.” She stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to. I just thought—I thought that I was just being helpful and quiet and normal enough. But I’m not doing any of it right. I talk too much, or I hover, or I forget to look people in the eye, and apparently people think I’m weird.”

Lewis’s face darkened. She wasn’t looking at him, though, she was staring at her shoes now. At the last race, Lando had used an orange marker pen and written his number ‘4’ on the side of them.

“They were talking about me,” she continued, voice flatter now. “The McLaren public relations people. They said I might ruin things for him. For Lando. Because I’m too much and not enough at the same time.”

“They said that to you?” Lewis asked, his voice sharp.

She looked at him. He sounded angry. Her stomach twisted tighter.

“No one said it to me. But I heard them. I wasn’t meant to. I don’t think they knew I was there.” Her hands tugged harder at the cuffs of her sleeves, wrapping the fabric around her fingers until they turned pale. “And they’re right, really. It’s not personal. It’s strategic. I’m a… a flaw in the system.”

Lewis exhaled slowly, deliberately, like he was keeping something inside. “Amelia, you don’t get to say that about yourself, alright? That’s a rule now.”

She blinked at him. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not true,” he said, quieter. “I’ve raced with actual liabilities. People who don’t care. Who don’t try. You? You’re none of those things. You’re thoughtful, you work hard, and you pay attention in a way most people don’t. That already puts you ahead of half the paddock.”

She didn’t say anything. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, like she could physically push the confusing feelings away, then leaned a little closer to Roscoe. The dog didn’t move, just let her run her fingers through the warm fur along his side like it was the only thing keeping her from floating away.

Lewis stayed close but gave her space. After a moment, he glanced down at his phone and the telltale *swoop* sound informed her that he'd sent somebody a message.

A few minutes later, footsteps approached from behind. Light. Quick. Familiar.

She didn’t even need to turn around.

“Hey,” Lando said, voice low and careful.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.

“I’m okay,” she said automatically.

Lewis stood, brushing off his hands. “Take her for some air, yeah?” He suggested to Lando. “She needs a break. And someone who won’t let her be mean to herself.”

“I got her,” Lando said quietly, eyes on her the whole time.

Lewis gave him a look — subtle, but full of something unspoken. Then he reached down to ruffle Amelia’s hair, a brief and awkward brotherly gesture.

She winced.

Her shoulders curled up, recoiling slightly before she could stop herself. It wasn’t Lewis’ fault — she liked him, respected him, even — but he wasn’t Fernando. He didn’t know how to touch her gently. How not to startle her.

Lewis paused and immediately pulled his hand back. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Force of habit.”

She nodded once. She appreciated the apology more than the touch.

Lando sat down beside her, close but not touching.

“Tell me who I need to fight,” he said.

She huffed a breath. Almost a laugh. Almost.

He didn’t rush her. Just waited.

After a long moment, she looked at him. Her voice barely a whisper. “I think I might mess everything up for you.”

He shook his head immediately. “Nah. I’ll be the one who ends up doing that.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him. He looked serious, but she could never be sure.

He smiled at her, then. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s take a walk around, yeah? The sun’ll start setting soon.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he started walking, and after a second of hesitation, Amelia stood up and followed. She walked beside him, glancing at him occasionally. He led her around the paddock, moving past engineers and mechanics who were too busy to pay attention to either of them.

“My dad talked to me. About, uh, this. Us.” He glanced at her. She frowned at him. “Because we went for burgers.” He explained.

Amelia sighed. “Everyone is so obsessed with that. I don’t understand.”

Lando smirked. “Because you went with me, Amelia.”

She made a face at him that she hoped portrayed her frustration. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I like you,” he said slowly, his voice steady. Honest. She blinked at him. “I think a lot of people worked that out before I did — and definitely before you did.” He said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he making fun of her? It didn’t feel like it. It… it felt a lot like he was teasing with her. Flirting with her, like the men in her books.

Her heart did that thing again. The one that felt like it skipped a beat, but not in the way she wanted it to. He was, wasn’t he? He was flirting with her. Because he liked her.

Before Amelia could say anything, Lando stopped suddenly, and she almost bumped into him. Looking up, she saw a camera swing toward them, one of the Sky cameras following the action around the paddock, with Ted Kravitz just a few meters away.

Her stomach dropped. A rush of panic hit her chest.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, instinctively trying to step out of the camera’s line of sight.

Lando’s hand landed gently on her back, guiding her in the opposite direction, but it was too late. The camera was already focused on them. Amelia could feel her face flush as heat spread up her neck. This was exactly what she didn’t want — being seen alone with Lando was only going to make everything worse.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry,” Lando said, his voice low and steady, reassuring her without a hint of panic.

But just as the camera zoomed in closer, Amelia heard a familiar voice.

“What do we have here?” It was Max Verstappen.

She blinked. Carlos Sainz appeared beside him, and Daniel Ricciardo wasn’t far behind. The three of them swarmed around her and Lando like it was something they did every day. Max slung an arm around Lando’s shoulders, and Carlos and Daniel positioned themselves between Amelia and the camera, effectively blocking the view.

“We were just on our way to get ice cream,” Daniel said with a mischievous grin, his accent thick and playful. “Warm evening, isn’t it?”

Amelia blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in energy. Max gave her a wink, his smile wide and completely unbothered by the camera’s presence. Carlos just chuckled.

Lando shook his head, clearly amused, but his eyes didn’t leave her. There was something there, something that made her stomach flutter, and for a second, she forgot about the camera entirely.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Lando said with a smile, his tone light but grateful. It was clear he wasn’t at all mad at the distraction. In fact, he seemed oddly relieved by it.

“Only when it’s necessary,” Max quipped, and with that, the trio slowly started backing away, blocking the camera’s view like pros.

As they made their way toward the back of the paddock, Lando’s hand remained at the small of Amelia’s back, a silent reassurance that she was, for now, out of the spotlight.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice just for her.

Amelia nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking about how many points you guys have combined.”

“In Formula One?” Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement.

She shook her head. “No, I mean, like, total points. From when you all started karting.” Her voice was mumbled, her thoughts swirling with a million numbers. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be able to tell you.”

Max raised an eyebrow at Lando. “Mate…”

Lando laughed, his eyes full of pride. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

—

iMessage — 5:09pm

Dad You okay honey?

Amelia Yes. I do not like Lisa anymore.

Dad Lisa who?

Amelia She works in public relations.

Dad What did she do? Did she say something to you?

Amelia I eavesdropped.

Dad: Amelia

Amelia She said that people say that I have weird vibes. Do I?

Dad No, you don’t. Your vibes are just fine. I’ll have a chat with Lisa about where her focus should and shouldn’t be. Are you okay, though? Did you feel upset?

Amelia It’s fine. Lando made me feel better :)

Dad: Amelia Brown. Where are you right now?

Amelia I am in Lando’s rental car.

Dad I can’t believe this. Tell him that I am going to murder him.

Amelia No. He hasn’t kissed me yet. He probably won’t do it tonight because we are with his friends.

Dad … Which friends?

Amelia Max Verstappen. Carlos Sainz. Daniel Ricciardo.

Dad I see. Have fun, sweetheart.

—

iMessage — 5:18pm

Zak Brown You told me you had a chat with him.

Adam Norris I did. What’s he done now?

Zak Brown Check Sky Sports. Your son’s created an Amelia army. A very expensive one. Looks like Max Verstappen’s leading it.

Adam Norris Just saw it. Never seen him like this with any girl before.

Zak Brown Look, he’s a great kid, but I’m trying to figure out how to handle this. It’s turning into a media circus.

Adam Norris I can talk to him again.

Zak Brown Maybe we just tell them they can’t see each other. Lay down the law. I’ll tell Amelia to stay out of the paddock for a bit, create some distance.

Adam Norris That’ll only make it worse, Zak. Lando’s young. He’s a bit of a party animal. Amelia seems like a good kid, but she’s not his usual type. Maybe this will blow over.

Zak Brown Let’s hope so.

—

Carlos paced slowly down the pit-lane, the cool morning air brushing against his skin. The soft hum of the paddock was building as teams made their final preparations. He adjusted his cap, squinting against the light creeping over the horizon, the sun just peeking out from behind the clouds, casting long shadows on the tarmac.

His gaze flicked to the pit-wall, where strategists were already setting up, even at this hour. His own crew were deep in race plan discussions, while other teams were doing the same. The calm before the storm. The last moments of peace before the full intensity of the race weekend took over.

Silverstone always had a unique energy. The fans here were different—almost like they had a special connection to the track. It was Lando’s home race, and McLaren’s too.

Carlos glanced over at Lando’s garage without thinking. He was already there, leaning against the back wall in a pair of matching grey sweats, smiling widely. Carlos followed his gaze. Ah. Of course. Amelia Brown, perched on the counter in front of the telemetry screens, animatedly talking, her hands moving as much as her words.

Carlos found himself wondering if the way her feet kept bouncing against the cabinet was a... stim, the English term. He had done his research when he learned about Amelia’s autism. It had helped to understand why she was so blunt when giving advice and never made eye contact. It also explained why his father's words had clearly hurt her more deeply than he would ever be able to understand.

The sound of Amelia’s laugh echoed across the pit-lane, rare and light, catching Carlos off guard. A few people turned to look, but he smiled to himself and resisted the urge to do the same.

All he could do was hope that his younger teammate knew what was at stake, and took great care in the meantime.

—

Amelia lingered at the edge of the McLaren hospitality, watching the crowds begin to surge toward the podium. The noise was already swelling; chants, cheers, announcers shouting over each other, and she could feel the pressure building in her chest, like the edge of a storm.

She didn’t usually go. Podiums were too loud, too crowded, too much. But this was Lewis, and he’d won his home race, and something just… tugged at her.

She turned, scanning the garage until she found Lando, who was mid-conversation with one of the engineers, still in his race suit, half-zipped down and tied around his waist. His face was flushed with post-race adrenaline, curls stuck damp to his forehead. But when he saw her staring, he excused himself and jogged over.

“You okay?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“I think…” She hesitated, glancing at the rising noise and the streamers already flying in the air. “I want to go to the podium. For Lewis. Just for a bit.”

Lando blinked, but then he grinned, and she stared. He was… he was all sunlight and softness. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He said.

She nodded once, but didn’t move.

Lando seemed to understand immediately. “Do you have your defenders?”

She nodded and pulled them out of her cross-body. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said. “Put them on. It’ll be chaos.”

“I will try not to freak out.” She promised him.

“I won’t let that happen,” Lando said, already turning to lead the way.

He didn’t reach for her, didn’t crowd her. Just walked a few steps ahead, carving space through the sea of people with casual ease, occasionally glancing back to make sure she was still following. She appreciated that. That he didn’t hover. That he didn’t try to fix, fix, fix. Just… made it easier.

By the time they reached the base of the podium, the champagne was already spraying. Lewis stood centre stage, beaming, arms raised in triumph. The crowd roared, and Amelia’s McLaren branded ear defenders did their job, muting the sharp edges of it until it was just a distant hum. She watched Lewis through the fog of smoke and sound, her eyes soft with pride. He deserved this. He always did.

Lando leaned slightly toward her, not close enough to touch, just enough that she could hear him clearly. “You glad you came?”

She nodded, eyes still on the podium. “Yes. It’s good.”

The following day, a picture of them would go viral on F1 social media. Lando, still in his fireproofs, race suit dragging slightly against the ground, standing just behind Amelia — who wore her noise-cancelling headphones like armour, her eyes fixed on the podium. She was smiling, wide and unguarded, the kind of smile people didn’t often get to see from her. Lando was looking at her; fond and sweet.

The photo would circle the internet within hours. People would say a lot of things.

But the overwhelming consensus?

Soulmates.

Whether they knew it yet or not.

NEXT CHAPTER

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meenaxskz · 2 days ago

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when you slightly cut your finger (maknae line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack warnings: minor injury | slight blood | language hyung line | ✧ maknae line

han

You: “Ow! shit.” “WHO HURT YOU. I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL FIGHT A FRUIT.” You blink. Jisung skids into the kitchen wearing pajama pants and one sock “Did you just stab yourself?! With a knife?! Were you slicing things?! WHY WERE YOU SLICING THINGS UNSUPERVISED??” You hold up your finger. A small cut. Like, embarrassingly small. He stares. Goes dead silent. Then clutches his chest. “I’m gonna throw up. I wasn’t emotionally ready for gore this early.” You grin. “You’re being dramatic.” “YOU’RE BLEEDING!” “It’s one drop!” “THAT DROP CAME FROM YOUR BODY BABY. THAT’S PRECIOUS FLUID.” You: wincing a little “Can you get me a bandaid?” “I’ll get you a medal for surviving this.” “It’s not that bad...” “Shhh. Don’t talk. Save your strength.” “...Jisung” He picks you up bridal-style “TO THE COUCH. MEDIC STATION ENGAGED.” He sets you down with a pillow “Don’t move. You might pass out.” He disappears and comes back 0.6 seconds later with: -Two band-aids -A fluffy towel -His emotional support hoodie -And a candle You blink, scared to ask... “What’s the candle for...” “In case we need to create mood lighting for your goodbye.” You start laughing. “Ji...” “Just tell me what you want for dinner in the next life.” You sigh dramatically. You can’t help it. You milk it harder just to watch him spiral “I think I’m getting dizzy…” He drops to his knees. “I’LL DIE WITH YOU.” “WHAT—” “I’M SERIOUS. ROMEO AND JULIET, BABY. I’M NOT READY TO DATE AGAIN.” “We’ve been together for 8 months.” “EXACTLY. TOO LATE TO START OVER.”

felix

You: “Ow—!” Felix: immediate record scratch from across the kitchen “What?! What happened?! What did you TOUCH?!” You hold up your hand. One small cut. One tiny drop of blood. That’s it. Felix gasps like he just watched you get stabbed. “OH MY GOD?? BABY?!” You're biting your lip to keep from laughing “…It hurts.” He practically sprints across the room, grabbing your hand like he’s about to deliver CPR. “Where?! Let me see. wait, do we need to go to the hospital?!” You dramatically flutter your lashes “I don’t know. I might faint. Hold me?” His face: shook. “Oh no no no no don’t faint, not on me, please... I didn’t take first aid this year!” “I think… I see the light.” His eyes full of panic “NO YOU DON’T.” “Tell my pet rock I loved it.” He starts fanning your face “Please don’t die, you haven’t even tried the new cookie recipe yet” You can’t help it. You snort-laugh. Felix pauses. Blink blink. “…You’re joking?” You wheeze, “You were fanning me with a potholder, Lix.” He steps back, face going red, hands still hovering mid-air “You...you LIED?!” “...Just a little.” “...I almost cried.” You grin. “That’s how much you love me, huh?” He crosses his arms. “I was gonna write you a goodbye song.” “You were???” “I had the first line already. ‘Strawberries took her, but love remains." You laugh “Oh my GOD—” --- Later, you find a band-aid on your finger with a doodled heart and tiny wings drawn in pen. And on the counter? A sticky note: “Even if you’re dramatic, I’d still die for your stupid finger. – Lixie ”

seungmin

You: “Ow—OH MY GOD.” Seungmin from the hallway : “What happened? Are you dying? Please say yes, I need a nap.” “I’m bleeding!” Seungmin walks in. Stops. Stares at you dramatically crouched on the floor “…You cut yourself slicing cucumbers again, didn’t you?” You lift your hand like Simba on Pride Rock “There’s blood. I’m leaking.” He leans over. Squints at the cut “…That is not ‘leaking.’ That is ‘lightly annoyed skin.’” You gasp. “Are you mocking my pain?!” “Yes. In 4K. Live broadcast.” You dramatically press a paper towel to your finger. “I’m going into shock.” He opens the fridge. “Should I write your will on a sticky note?” “I want my funeral catered. With champagne.” Seungmin deadpan "Noted. Now let’s wrap up this drama before I call the real medics—aka Chan and his weird healing dad voice.” But then he actually sees the cut. And pauses “Oh. Okay, that’s… deeper than I thought.” You blink. “So you do care.” “No, I care about bloodstains on the counter.” He walks off. Comes back 15 seconds later with a bandaid, antiseptic, and your favorite cartoon sticker. “Did you just bring me a Spongebob bandaid?” He's focused on dabbing your finger “Don’t make it weird.” You smile. “You’re sweet when you pretend you’re not sweet.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re loud when you pretend you’re dying.” He finishes the bandaid, carefully pressing it on. Doesn’t say anything. Then leans forward and gently kisses your forehead. You blink. He immediately straightens “You imagined that.” “I literally felt your lips—” “You imagined that!” he repeats louder, walking away. You didn't <3

i.n

You: “AH—SHIT. SHIT—” Jeongin: appears from thin air “WHO DO I HAVE TO FIGHT.” You dramatically hold up your finger. He blinks. “That’s… a paper cut.” You: “It’s worse. It’s a betrayal. I was spreading butter.” Jeongin: squints at the butter knife like it just insulted his mother “…You’re bleeding from a utensil designed for gentle smearing.” “I’m fragile. Treat me like one of your skincare serums.” He walks over, deadpan “You want a bandaid or a eulogy?” “I want a statue built in my honor.” He smirks. “Okay, I’ll put it next to the box of shame.” You gasp “You are so mean.” He pulls out his phone. Snap. “You’re gonna thank me when I show this photo to your future kids.” You glare. “Delete it.” He snorts. “Nope. This is art.” Three minutes later. You’re pouting in silence. Jeongin: still chuckling “Oh come on, baby, it’s funny.” You stay quiet. Still cradling your finger. “…You okay?” Silence. “Wait… are you… actually upset?” You sniff dramatically. His entire soul leaves his body. “OH NO—WAIT—OKAY—BABY—I’M SORRY.” He scrambles for the bandaid drawer. Pulls out three sizes, a mini ice pack, and an emergency cookie (??). “This one has Snoopy on it...do you want Snoopy? Or glitter?” You sniff again “...Snoopy.” He gently puts it on. Blows on your finger “Am I forgiven?” You squint. “…You made fun of my butter injury.” He presses his lips to your bandaged finger like it’s sacred. Then your cheek. Then your forehead. “I’ll never mock butter again. Swear on my AirPods.” You grin. He pauses “…Wait. You’re milking this, aren’t you.” You smile sweetly. “Love you~” Jeongin groans. “...I’m keeping that photo”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

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anoia · 21 hours ago

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Wait isn't the thing more that like, Vivienne is not only willing to, but is thriving at playing the "game", and working to gain more and more power for herself? The gray morality of her situation is that she's ultimately working within the status quo, and one of the big questions of the dragon age universe asks it's characters and you is: how would you navigate and improve this world?

Vivienne's answer is that despite some injustices in the current system, the best way to do that is to control what we have, meet and exceed the standards of beauty and power and influence that are in place rather than reworking the system entirely for something more objectively just, because the benefits would not offset the costs in her assessment of her reality.

And that type of strategy is not the most typical "heroic" fantasy path. The basic vanilla, normie ass character is going to be the one that says "fuck the man", right? Like us as outside observers can point out a ton of ways Thedas operates and say like ohh hey that's def does not lead to better material conditions for most people!!!! Morrigan is less of a controversial character because she more or less fits this approach. Fuck this shit I'm just gonna be a badass and live in the woods!! Ultimately Morrigan's approach to surviving in Thedas is an easy, un-challenging strategy for majority audiences to connect with.

Vivienne isn't a "fuck the man" character, she's an "I will become the man" character. And those characters can really go either way, fantasy audiences should naturally be suspicious of characters with those ambitions. Vivienne is full on supportive of the Circle and the Mage Circle is, rightfully and purposefully, a controversial thing, and she's pursuing power unapologetically, a character trait that oft begets stories of how power corrupts and those that seek it shouldn't have it. That aspect of her character is meant to be challenging, you should be suspicious of authority and those who pursue it.

What Vivienne's quest is doing is basically being like hey did you already make up your mind about Vivienne because you're a goody two shoes who thinks this is a black and white world? Well well well. And the game presents you with the opportunity to be challenging yourself. I don't think the paragon player is meant to sabotage the potion. You can alternatively make a cold wager, not totally unlike one Vivienne might make herself, that you might be stopping the Circle from eventually being taken over by a power hungry, now immortal mage.

The writers reward you for looking deeper into Vivienne's character and not dismissing 1 typical trope of a bad guy from a simpler story and making your decision there. They reward the player for wanting to trust rather than judge. I think if anything the quest might have been a little too simplistic and not interesting enough in the grand scheme of things, but I def don't think the writers were reinforcing the idea that she wasn't trustworthy, they were doing the opposite..?

I instantly fucking loved Vivienne when I played the game but obviously not everyone has brains as large as us mean girl enjoyers. And certainly there were also a good amount of micro brains that played the game and reacted negatively to her before she even *opened her mouth* bc BLACK AND BALD WOMAN????? in MUH FANTASY?????? So yeah, hugeass injustice done to her character, but was that not just all on the fandom side? ok I WILL agree with writer injustice in the form of not making her romanceable. legit BOOO

But yeah like, it's good that she does things that are questionable and unlikable... the fact she *also* does things that are noble and likable means she's like, a complex character? Which is good?

DIsclaimer it's been a decade since I played the game and I only rly remember viv was my fave. i can't remember if i wanted her to be able to like attain more power at the end or smt

no seriously what was up with vivienne's personal quest like

#hoyl shit sorry idk why i wanted to write a novel on this #i think that one 6 hour youtube said some of this shit too and tbh that's the only reason i remembered what the quest was so #tldr i think in vivienne's case it's legit the fandom who is wrong not the writers #dragon age

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stuckonmark · 23 hours ago

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CRUSH DIARIES. lee jeno

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 08. surprise sunrise

every morning, the sun usually wakes you up from it’s bright light. however, today was different for your morning. you felt a dark shadow hovering over your face, like a cloud was blocking the sun. and you were right, a big cloud was definitely blocking the sun.

“AHHH WHAT THE FU-” barely awake, you opened your eyes to see an ominous figure, standing over you. before you could even think, pure survival instinct kicked in and you swung your hand. a sharp smack echoed in the room as your hand met his cheek.

“HOLY SHIT! OW!” the figure groaned, half-laughing as he rubbed his face where you had slapped him. “hey it’s me! it’s me!”

you rubbed your eyes, trying to wake yourself up and processing what was in front of you. there, standing at the foot of your bed, was none other than lee jeno — the jeno, your high school friend, late-night texting buddy, idol, crush, everything.

“jeno?” you rubbed your eyes once more, not truly sure if you could believe what was in front of your eyes. but to your surprise, he really was right in front of you.

“geez, is that how you greet all your guests? should i be honored or concerned?” he chuckled, as he regained his balance. you groaned from embarrassment, while you covered your reddened face. “i’m so sorry, jeno. i thought you were trying to kill me! you can’t just randomly appear in people’s bedrooms!”

“to be fair, giselle let me in..” he said, raising his hands in surrender, a small smile tugging at his lips. “so if you really want to blame somebody, blame her!”

“i’m going to kill her.. i look so bad right now.” you were sitting up in your bed with your blanket wrapped around you.

“i think you look cute..” you avoided his eyes and covered your face with your blanket, as the compliment was making you blush even more. “as an apology, i brought you an iced latte and those chocolate donuts you used to love~” you poked your head out of your blanket, and there he was, holding a small bag and a cup.

“i’ll leave these here..” he set down the bag and cup on your nightstand. “and i’ll let you get ready because we’re going out.” he was grinning from ear to ear.

“out? like outside? jeno, are you crazy? what if someone sees you with me-”

“heyheyhey.. slow your roll..” he stepped closer, gently grabbing your arms and trying to calm you down. “i know a place. you have nothing to worry about, okay?” you hesitated a little, but his eyes were soft and sincere. he was the same boy that you knew back in high school, and then your shoulders relaxed.

“fine.. okay.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you were used to the city, but the path you were walking down was nothing like it. no noise, no cameras. just tall trees and soft rays of sunlight. jeno was walking beside you, hands in his pockets, and matching your pace.

“i don’t know how you pulled this off. this is unreal.” your voice was soft. “you came out of nowhere and now taking me to a quiet park? crazy..”

“now i just need to cue the rain, then we could have one of those kdrama moments.” he chuckled, as he looked at your side profile. flustered from his gaze, you playfully nudge his shoulder. “you’re so annoying.”

the two of you spotted a small wooden bench that sat under a big, tall tree. jeno motioned you to take a seat first, quickly following your movements, and careful to sit close but not too close. neither of you spoke, letting the birds chirp and wind breeze.

jeno was the first to speak. “i’ve missed this. just being in your presence and talking to you.”

“you could’ve called, texted, anything.. but instead, i got nothing from you.” you weren’t trying to accuse him of anything. it was just your feelings talking.

he lowered his head, as he fidgeted with his fingers. “i know and i really wanted to, yn. i was just scared. i was scared of getting in trouble. i was scared that you wouldn’t see me in the same way anymore.”

“jeno, i’ve always seen you as you. not idol jeno. just.. you.”

“i just wasn’t sure. people change.. all the time. and i just didn’t know.” his voice softened and he turned his body towards yours, looking for your eyes. hesitantly, he slowly reached for your hand that rested on the bench. his fingers curled around yours, searching for a sign of acceptance.

you didn’t pull away, though and it caused him to smile, that same smile that you’ve always knew and loved since high school.

“i really appreciate it,” he whispered. “thank you for always seeing me.”

previous — m.list — next

notes. hiii everyone! i’ve been quite busy and i’m sorry for the late post. i feel like i keep apologizing BUT I FEEL BAD 😭 anyways molo was so good!!!! so proud of mark 🫶

taglist. closed! @sibwol @dudekiss3r @dilflover44 @jae-n0 @mmjhh1998 @cookiehaos @wumutititititi @gomdoleemyson @222brainrot @hollxe1 @sacdepixie @mrkified @kukkurookkoo @haechology @purezitas @urlocalbeaner5 @awktwurtle @toroufriteh @holyhaech @njmluvr @desssss-0 @iluvkyo @samoyed-23 @haesluvr @monniemoody @nahyuckers @skibidihan @sunghoonsgfreal @chenlezip @n0hyuck @httpsxnox @i03jae @meltinghershey @mbella607 @remgeolli @nctrawberries @mwrsi @saranghoeforanton @yoyomul @grassbutneo @multifandomania @bluedbliss @liumoonlight @catdonut657 @uncasings @chishiyapologist @ayukas @lvsdoyo @bbykaixx @4doras @flamingi @hoeingthefuckup @neozon3nha @insbread @tynlvr

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honey-bee05 · 15 hours ago

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TWST Stranded Alien AU

Okay this may be a bit convoluted, but I’ve had this idea living rent free in my head for a while now and I had to write it down.

So, we know how Twisted Wonderland is a different dimension/ planet from the one Yuu is from, right? I’ve always thought how convenient it was that Yuu is the same as the humans of twst (minus the magic part), spoke the same language, eats the same foods, etc. But what if that wasn’t the case?

What if instead of Twisted Wonderland being just a magical version of Earth, it was well and truly a different planet. Here’s a bit of a brain dump of things that I think would be different:

-Twst humans aren’t biologically the same as Earth humans.

Sure, they look similar, but there are some glaring differences. I like to think that Yuu would give the twst humans sort of an “uncanny valley” feeling, and vice versa. Like maybe the twst humans’ skin is weirdly texturless/ too smooth, or Yuu’s facial expressions are really exaggerated in comparison. I want Yuu to really feel like an alien in comparison. It might also be neat if only humans could easily tell the difference, so Faye and Merpeople and the like may not be able to tell at first.

I also imagine this would extend to things like Yuu having a blood type no one else in twst has (heck, maybe blood types don’t even exist there). Maybe they’re allergic to certain common foods or able to digest things that are poisonous to most twst humans. I could write about this part for days, but I’ll leave it here for now.

-Different Language and Culture

If you were to suddenly find yourself on an entirely different planet, what are the odds that you would speak the same language as the people living there? Pretty much 0, in my opinion. I think an untranslatable language barrier could be a really fun obstacle to play around with, and would add an extra layer of difficulty and frustration to the whole situation.

I’ve also read a lot of fics where Yuu/ reader tries to navigate cultural differences between them and the non-humans of twst, but what if that were extended to the whole cast? I imagine that because of magic, the evolution of life on Twisted Wonderland happened in an entirely different way than it did on Earth, which would lead to a unique culture for its civilizations.

-The Geography/ Planet Itself is Different

Not sure why, but I’ve always had the headcannon that Twisted Wonderland is significantly smaller than Earth. I know we haven’t seen much of the world map yet, but I imagine what we do have is about ½ to ⅓ the size of the whole planet (Forgive me if I’m wrong, I haven’t finished reading the last chapter or hardly any of the vignettes yet). With that being said, gravity would be much lighter than that of Earth’s which could lead to some funky consequences.

I also think that the weather would be different, and in my opinion, less extreme. I remember in the masquerade event, when Malleus caused an earthquake after finding out Rollo duped him, the cast was pretty shocked (yes, at the fact Malleus caused it, but it also seemed like they were surprised by an earthquake in general), even though it was quite a light one with little to no real damage done. Natural disasters aren’t really that uncommon in our world, and are often bad enough to take tens to hundreds of lives and cause millions in damages. I mean hell, we even have “tornado/ hurricane season” it's so common.

-Morality and the Concept of Good vs Evil

Ok this kind of ties in with the culture thing, but I felt it deserved its own category. I think that the difference in how civilization came to be would vastly alter what people think is and isn’t ok. We know that physical/ magical strength is a huge factor in determining class/ hierarchy in twst society, so there might be more of a “survival of the fittest” mentality going on. It’s also interesting to think how having multiple sapient species, as opposed to Earth’s one, would affect things.

These are just some thoughts I’ve had for a while. I love world building so much, I’d be absolutely delighted to write more about this if anyones interested. Also, if you have anything to expand on this, please tell me! I’d love to bounce ideas off one another :D

Anyways, hope y’all have a great day!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst au #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland au #twst yuu

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wonderhoy-dump · 2 days ago

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This is such a good analysis and the comparison really helps put into perspective a lot of things that have been irking me about reactions to Kana5. Going to add my own perspective on Mafu6 below but feel free to ignore.

Personally, I don't think there's anything Mafumom can do period to get onto a redemption arc right now, and if the writing tries to force one, it will flop hard. That is because, in my opinion, Mafuyu hasn't gone through the growth that would allow her to forgive in any meaningful capacity.

The breakaway was necessary yes, but it was also deliberately marked as a moment of "running away": necessary for survival but not in itself an act of healing. Mafuyu still hasn't grappled with the harm her mother has caused her over years of abuse or what that means for her own sense of self. She hasn't touched the lake filled with her feelings since WL1 because it meant facing too much pain, even though SEKAI couldn't be clearer that that is how she will find her true feelings. She continues to be weighed down with a sense of obligation to other people, as seen by her barely being able to stop Kanade from overworking herself into the hospital. And while her growth since Persona has been marked with moments big and small of gathering up external support and internal strength, I think her continued lack of identity means Mafuyu literally cannot redeem her mom for the audience at this point in her narrative.

Going back to the main post, it's like if Knowing the Unseen happened as Ena1 and we're supposed to believe the guy who's been nonstop telling his daughter to give up already suddenly actually believes in her passion (which would not even be a stable passion yet because Ena hadn't gone through any healing yet). In that case, Ena wouldn't have been able to accept the realization, the audience wouldn't have gained anything from a reconciliation, and their entire story would get stunted. Ena5 being "rewarding for her" is so real because like regardless of what we may think about the plausibility of Mafumom improving as a person, that alone would not be enough to help Mafuyu (aside from maybe saddling her with a guilt-riddled pressure to forgive before she's ready?? idk).

But far from dreading the next event, I do have some hope Mafu6 will be a confrontation, not a reconciliation. First, we already saw Mafumom come back begging and apologizing to Mafuyu during WL1 but it only freaked the hell out of Mafuyu. Let's keep up that energy for Mafu6. Second, Mafuyu was able to break from her mom by comparing her mother's "love" to Kanade/Niigo. Putting the two of them in the same room could allow Mafuyu to finally "see" her mom as not just an idealized mother figure or a fearsome force, but as a person who caused her the pain they both need to acknowledge before forgiveness can happen. And finally, sidetracking to a Mafumom redemption arc would literally be so bad, I need the copium of believing it won't happen right now. Please don't fuck this is up for me, Colopal.

why knowing the unseen worked (and why i'm afraid mafu6 won't)

disclaimer: ena's father did traumatize her and his actions can't be justified. but the event doesn't try to justify them or act like he's had a complete change of heart since then

the fundamental nature of the abuse was different, so reconciliation is cathartic and beneficial for ena but not for mafuyu

ena's dad put her down, so what she needs is to be lifted up. mafuyu's mom wanted to control who she was, so what she needs is to break free (which she's already done)

the point of adding depth to shinei is making ena realize she's not talentless like she thought, that she's worthy of being an artist. what would be the point for mafuyu of having her mom suddenly show remorse?

ena's dad made her feel worthless because her self-worth was tied to her art. so to realize that she's actually been the most precious thing to him ever since she was born is rewarding for her. it's not about redeeming him

mafumom could say all kinds of nice things to her daughter in the next event and it wouldn't mean anything. she already calls her a "good girl" and stuff all the time. she's manipulative

shinei is not manipulative. he couldn't be even if he tried because the man is emotionally incompetent

that's why it's only through his art that he's able to convey his true feelings to his daughter, which is so fitting since art is the thing they share, or at least should share

mafumom has already had an arc, which was like the opposite of a redemption arc. mafuyu went from thinking of her as a good mom to realizing she was destroying her. to redeem her now would just be going backwards

by contrast, knowing the unseen is the first time we're really delving into shinei's character, and what we learn about him doesn't contradict anything from before

rephrased: mafuyu thought her mom truly loved her, but it turns out she only loved the idealized daughter in her head. ena thought her dad didn't care about her, but it turns out he loved her from the start

so yeah

#honestly it comes down to me not believing mafuyu can forgive her mom rn without that reconciliation being heavily tainted by guilt #and we don't need that level of realism in the story >_>#glissando’s prosekai brainrot #enanan #mafufufu #analysis #'he couldn't be even if he tried because the man is emotionally incompetent' -> great way of putting it btw

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renae-nicole-lynn · 2 days ago

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More Invincible x Frankenstein's Monster!Reader Headcanons

A/N: Why? Sometimes I like the ideas I come up with. These are in no particular order in terms of timeline or otherwise, like bare minimum organization period, other than mostly being based in season 1

There is another part to ‘Why Him?” coming soon so keep an eye out for that, assuming I have it out before the hype completely dies if it hasn’t already 🫠. Also @sweatinghoneybee left a really cool analysis on my first headcanon post and you should absolutely read it.

As the old story goes, stolen limbs were sewn together to create you. And with a shock of electricity and the worst pain you have ever felt since, you became something from nothing. Originally after your creator for robbing the gravesites of heroes, the GDA finds you abandoned and Cecil, seeing the potential, decides to take you in and train you.

You’re taught how to hone your abilities through physical and mental disciplines, eventually excelling in hand-to-hand combat, shooting, and academics. Most of all, you’re taught how to survive, to blend into a crowd effortlessly. With a hologram watch(or bracelet depending on your style) that hides the two white streaks in your hair and the scars and stitches that hold your body together, you look as human as it gets. Sure as hell doesn’t feel like it sometimes, if at all.

Your costume is created from a material that can repair itself as fast as it can be pulled apart, making it easy when you have to detach a limb during a mission. Completed with holsters for guns, medical kit, etc.; tactile, not flashy, perfect for working in the shadows.

Once you’re deemed ready to start doing fieldwork, that's exactly where you start. You watch, you learn, you report to Cecil anything noteworthy.

You only really start doing civilian work when you start doing part-time missions with Team Teen and eventually with Mark. Even then you’re something of an urban legend, keeping your distance from civilians as much as possible last time you interacted directly with civilians it didn't end well. Most pictures of you are back shots and the ones of your face were too blurry to make out any defining features save from your signature white streaks and scars/stitches.

You and Mark were sitting across from each other at Burger Mart when he asked, “How come you don’t have a hero name?”

You take a sip of soda as you consider his question. “Why, ‘Weird Stitch Monster Thing and Invincible’ doesn’t scream ‘dynamic duo’ to you?”

After the discussion confession on the roof there was nothing like a formal agreement or secret handshake; the two or you as a duo just felt right, as both heroes and romantically, it was almost instinctive.

Mark rolled his eyes playfully. “Just curious, I’ve seen a lot of people online talking about it.”

You sat back against your side of the booth. “Having a name typically means interacting with civilians on some level regularly, something I clearly don’t do too often because Reasons.”

Mark winced. He knew what you were talking about, your first interaction with civilians gone bad was one of the first stories you told him.

“Besides the whole ‘mysterious person’ thing I got going on is enough for people to remember me by, no hero name required.”

This changed weeks later when some civilian heard Rex Splode call you ‘Corpse Bride’ and the name quickly circulated online.

Mark struggled and failed to not to laugh as you gripped his shoulders with utter panic and disgust. “I don’t care what my hero name is, it will not be something the poor man King Bomb-omb gave me.”

He snorted as he squeezed your hands comfortingly. “We’ll think of something.”

In the early days of your relationship, you weren’t used to casual displays of affection, i.e. holding hands or Mark’s arm casually wrapped around your shoulder. He’s patient with you, always asking if you’re okay before doing anything. Eventually, it’s as natural as breathing to you both.

Compared to your naturally chilly body temperature, Mark’s warmth feels like heaven oh the joys of being a reanimated corpse and a half-alien respectively. Whenever you’re curled up together you wrap your limbs around him and bury your face in his neck, getting close as you possibly can. Not that he’s any better, during the warmer weather the boy’s clinging to you like a koala.

Stealing kisses from each other while on patrol and sparring becomes a regular thing. It gets to a point where your friends/teammates learn to give a warning before they enter a room with the two of you in it, especially when you two began to take things a little further.

When you both have free time you’ll cuddle up in his room and read comic books together quietly. You two don’t talk, you don’t need to, just being in each other’s company was enough.

You are a nerd through and through. Sometimes when you and Mark hang out together you’ll go on science rants and geek out over a recent paper that was published. He never seems to mind though, you’ve even caught him staring at you with an adorably dopey look on his face as he listened to one of your rants

You cut your tangent off and looked at Mark guiltily. “Sorry, didn’t mean to…” You trailed off when you saw the look on his face.

He had his chin propped up by his palm, and he was watching you with a soft look in his eyes and an even softer smile on his face. When he realized you were actually looking at him, he blinked and quickly shook his head. "No no, don't apologize." His cheeks turned a light pink and he scratched the back of his head. "I like listening to you."

You awkwardly tap your fingers against the table. "Yeah?"

He shrugged as if it was the most simplest thing in the world. "Yeah, it's cute."

You look away, if you could blush would probably be pink like him. “I guess it’s fair considered how many Seance Dog tangents I’ve had to sit through.”

“Hey!”

You totally think he’s cute when he goes on his own tangents, don’t lie.

Of course, this means study dates with the classic kiss every time a question was answered correctly. Given your high intelligence and the motivation of getting to kiss you, Mark’s grades improve and Debbie loves you for it.

Speaking of which, when it’s time to meet the parents you charm and are charmed by your boyfriend’s mom. You think of her as a pillar of strength for being a wife and mother to heroes, she thinks you’re good for Mark because you keep him grounded inside and outside of hero life. Nolan was perfectly polite, asking all the right questions a parent should ask their kid’s partner; but you got the sense that he didn't approve of your relationship with Mark. It wasn’t until after his murder of the the Guardians of The Globe and using Mark to massacre Chicago.

As you sat beside his hospital bed, you thought back to the moment he left you and Will in the Burger Mart parking lot. I should have done more to keep him there, I should have ignored Cecil and gone to Chicago and helped…

Shouldn’ts went going to help you now. Your thoughts turned angry as you looked at Mark’s broken body. Omni-Man wanted to use the sweet boy you loved as a weapon. Next time you would be ready, next time you would defend Mark to your last breath.

Later, when you two had a moments alone, you just held each other in his bed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

You felt his hold on you tighten. “I’m glad you weren’t,” you could feel him begin to shake. “God, if he had killed you- I need you to promise me if he comes back you’ll run.”

You pulled away just enough you were looking him in the eye. “I am not going to leave you! If he comes back we face him or anything else together!”

“I can’t lose you!”

“And I can’t lose you! So fuck running away, fuck you, we’re stronger together!”

“Why are you so stubborn?!”

“Because my boyfriend almost died and he’s asking me to abandon him if he’s ever in that situation again!” Your voice cracked, and this time you tightened your grip on him. “Never ask me to abandon you ever, please.”

The two of you stared at each other silently for a while before Mark sighed, letting his forehead fall against yours. “Okay.”

You let your eyes closed and pressed your palm against his beating heart.

He was here, broken but alive.

You were together.

Things were going to be okay.

“Okay.”

#invincible #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #frankenstein’s monster!reader #fem!reader #gn!reader #m!reader

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mammoth-clangen · 3 days ago

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(Hi, i need to rant to someone who knows more than me on the topic of the de-extinction of mammoths. Apologies to your inbox and you for the wall.)

in my opinion, for mammoths, it's also vital to remember how unfortunately inbred their last living population was. If humans hadn't killed them, they'd have all died of inbreeding. They were stuck on an island, the only extant population left, and honestly, probably on their way to if not already suffering from low food supplies, assuming they had few or no natural predators there. Plus, I'm pretty certain we have at least one specimen from there, and to my knowledge, we can't exactly test how inbred it is without other direct relatives... while yes, a few cases of inbreeding would be relatively harmless to a population, rampant inbreeding is bad for a reason.

I don't think any species should be revived - even if there was somehow a good reason to - unless we can clearly and consistently prevent unhealthy amounts of incest from occurring down the line. Something which, as you pointed out, likely can't be done with "dire wolves" or mammoths.

These scientists are playing with fire, and all they're going to do is make everything worse. The very definition of "so determined to see if you could, you forgot to stop to see if you should."

You make a very good point about the mammoths towards the end, they were indeed, very inbred. The cervical rib thing is interesting to me in particular because I have cervical ribs too, lolol

That being said...

The last surviving refuge population, the Wrangel Island Mammoths, were actually were doing surprisingly well before humans showed up! This is surprising, especially given what we know about animals such as Cheetah, with very reduced genetic diversity.

But it seems the Wrangel Island population, small as it was, had found a sort of 'genetic and environmental equilibrium' that lasted 200+ generations. They were living long-term as a whole population with inbreeding depression until their extinction ~4000 years ago, at the hands of humans. Major deleterious gene mutations were apparently "purged" rather than accumulating, though why, I'm not certain.

Really strange and interesting stuff!

However, the severe inbreeding in the last mammoths is still important in discussions of de extinction.

It shows what happens when, as we both mentioned, a species' numbers drop below the minimum survivable population. "Severely reduced heterozygosity" is the scientific term for "both copies of everyone's genes are the same." It leaves them vulnerable to disease, and much less able to adapt to changes as a population.

Refugia of extinct species like Wrangel Island are fascinating, but unless they can repopulate outside their refuge, they typically don't last. It's only a matter of time before something novel to the environment, such as predators or disease, wipes the rest of them out.

Quick clarification about inbred mammoth genomes in cloning

It's important to remember that the ice sheets have come and gone across the Northern Hemisphere for hundreds of thousands of years. Mammoths lived and died among them for much of that time. Thus, any intact genomes we find would likely be from different times in their range; not all from at the time of their extinction!

Here's a couple of examples of mammoth DNA sequenced from:

52,000 year old Woolly Mammoth skin.

Three Siberian mammoth specimens dating to the Early and Middle Pleistocene subepochs, two of which are more than one million years old!

So what I'm saying is, we actually could sequence a fair number of non-inbred mammoths. And we should! Learning about their genetics is fascinating, and tells the story of their lives throughout their existence as a species!

Does this mean we should clone/GMO mammoths using those sequenced genomes?

It's still a Hard No from me, for the other reasons mentioned here.

Additionally, whatever was happening on Wrangel Island, I doubt we would be able to replicate it well enough to stop inbreeding depression in resurrected mammoths.

Like the bucardo, I think any de extinct mammoths would unfortunately be crawling towards a second extinction.

---

Sorry to mildly rebuttal you there; I just think it's important not to spread misinformation, regardless if it supports your viewpoint c:

And thanks for giving me a chance to ramble about those funny island proboscideans!

In a world where endangered species are constantly at risk of genetic drift and inbreeding depression, the Wrangel Island mammoths are a bizarre case that I don't expect most people to know about XD

Image taken from the Wrangel Island paper.

#extinction is forever and any attempts at de extinction need to Seriously consider genetic viability of the clone population #the Wrangel Island Mammoths being an odd case doesn't change that- but they *are* fascinating #poppyknitt #mammothask #oh hey this genuinely *is* a mammoth ask #an ask about actual Woolly Mammoths lolol #Wrangel Island #proboscidea #mammoth #elephant #paleo stuff #not kindred #i mean not really #though if you want to read between the lines- there's a reason i also call the Kindred's mountains a refugia wink wink #and there's equally a reason they are at the 12000 ka period where Homotherium went extinct #everyone april fools their clangen/general comics ending with mass extinction but i am /srs #mammothclan #sabertooth #pav chatter #'chatter' but i write 2000 words is apparently my life lol #de extinction #colossal biosciences #colossal #GMO wolves #<-my tag for the poor beasts that started this conversation lolol #extinction #pleistocene #ice age #stone age #humans

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missmilkie · 5 hours ago

Text

JJK Various x fem!Reader

You can tell I’ve been watching too much of The Apothecary Diaries…

wc: 900

Being the daughter of the emperor wasn’t supposed to mean much. It didn’t matter that you were his firstborn, you were still female. As soon as a boy was born, he would be named the heir. And if the emperor failed to produce a male child before his death, then his surviving younger brother would take up the mantle of emperor. Except that’s not what happened.

Your uncle, the emperor’s brother, fell ill and died after several months of treatment. In that time, one of the emperor’s consorts finally gave birth to a male child. He wouldn’t live past the age of three.

So when your father died, he had no son and no brother to inherit the crown. Instead of him naming a high ranking official to be his successor, he decreed that you would be the next emperor. You were his favorite daughter, born to his favorite consort, the empress. In a lot of ways you were much like your father, well versed in the theatre of politics, highly educated, and levelheaded. It wasn’t a bad move to put you in charge. Your father believed you capable of running an empire. But you were still a woman. You were allowed to become the emperor on one condition: that you produced a male heir to take your place as soon as he was of age.

Now, you never expected to become emperor, nor did you really want to. But it was your father’s dying wish. He was good to you, treated you as an equal. Surely you could run the empire for a few decades.

Immediately after your coronation, you were presented with options for the imperial harem. Important families were nominating their sons to father the next emperor. You had to choose carefully.

Satoru Gojo, the gorgeous heir to House Gojo. His family was powerful and a big supporter of you becoming emperor, so you had to thank them. Satoru had the attitude of a consort, he was beautiful and a little dramatic.

Suguru Geto was an official who climbed the social ladder. He was known to be incredibly brilliant. Suguru knew how to maintain balance, which would be important for a harem.

Kento Nanami, another official not from any prominent family. He’s also quite talented, and would make a good advisor.

Choso Kamo from House Kamo was a political move. He was said to be beautiful as well, but he didn’t have much ambition.

Ryomen Sukuna was an incredible warrior. He’d earned many merits through battle, so making him a consort was fitting.

And Toji Zenin was from House Zenin. He wasn’t from the main branch like his cousin, Naoya. You just knew Naoya was a massive prick and Toji’s older brother was already married, so you had to choose him.

The six men moved into the palace, each having their own separate areas. You made a schedule to visit one a day every day of the week except one day. That was your you time.

You approached Satoru’s quarters wearing fine purple clothes.

“I’m so glad you came, Emperor~”

“Are these quarters satisfactory? Do let me know if you need anything.”

“Yes, I’m quite comfortable~”

His charm was undeniable. That night you only played chess with him and had tea. Satoru was skilled in strategy games.

You visited Choso in deep red.

“You look beautiful, Emperor.” Choso blushed, a pretty sight with his pale complexion.

“Thank you. You’re every bit as handsome as they say you are.”

You chatted with Choso over tea. Despite his antisocial attitude he was skilled in the art of conversation.

Indigo was the color you wore to see Toji.

“Good evening.” His voice was gruff.

“Is everything to your liking?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

Toji was a bit harder to talk to until one of his attendants suggested you dance while he plays an instrument. Toji was known for being a skilled dancer.

Once you’d visited the consorts from the big three families, you met the other three. Sukuna also had a good attitude for a consort. He would’ve got down to business right away, but you just wanted to have dinner with him. You had requested his favorite foods be prepared.

Suguru had a beautiful face and gorgeous long hair, but the body of a warrior. You asked him to play instruments for you when you visited him, and he happily obliged. He was a good choice for the harem, he knew how to act.

Finally you met Kento. You spent your visit chatting over a few drinks. He was a reasonable, rational man. Another good call on your part.

You spent the first two or three months just trying to get to know your consorts. While they were there for the purpose of producing heirs, you still wanted them to be treated well and enjoy themselves.

The consorts were also able to interact with each other. Satoru and Suguru were quick friends, while Sukuna and Toji butt heads with Satoru.

You had been the emperor for four months and still showed no signs of pregnancy. Your council didn’t know you hadn’t touched any of the consorts. They suspected it as you never spent a night with any of the men. You figured you might as well start trying. Being emperor was a lot, this was your way to get it over with. But were you really ready to have a baby?

#jjk #jjk x reader #x reader #fem reader #alternate universe #reader insert #reverse harem #gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 2 days ago

Text

by Jonathan S. Tobin

It was long apparent that elite universities were a lost cause for those who opposed these toxic ideas, but their post-Oct. 7 conduct removed all doubt from the question. They didn’t merely tolerate antisemitism; many of them encouraged it, tacitly or openly. At this point, it would be foolish to believe that they can or will change. As even the leaders of Columbia University, a place where the treatment of Jews after Oct. 7 was particularly egregious and the first major institution to be targeted by the Trump administration for defunding, have made clear, they have no intention of abiding by the terms offered by the government in exchange for holding off on threats of losing billions of dollars.

Still, the liberal leadership of the organized Jewish world at places like ADL and AJC, as well as thought leaders like Lipstadt and Summers, feel that siding with Trump against antisemites is a bridge too far for them.

They cite bogus concerns about free speech or due process as reasons to oppose Trump’s efforts to deport foreign students who advocate for Jewish genocide. Those assertions fall flat when you realize that the deportations are for illegal conduct, not speech. Just as important, they view the survival of these elite institutions threatened with defunding for their egregious conduct as far more important than anything else, including rolling back the tide of left-wing Jew-hatred.

Partisanship over their children’s safety

Still, they have the nerve to declare that opposition to antisemitism, even the unprecedented post-Oct. 7 left-wing variety, and the push to rid these schools of doctrines that enable it is bad for the Jews. In their view, siding with Trump, even on matters of Jewish safety, is bad because … well, the “bad orange man” is always wrong, even when, quite obviously, he’s right.

This is nothing less than an effort to convince American Jewry that their partisan liberal sensibilities always take precedence, even if it means their children’s lives have to be made miserable. They are asking Jews to side with campus antisemites and institutions that have written them off as unworthy of the protections given to any other minority community. As even many of them have conceded, it would be inconceivable for any of these schools that are threatened with being stripped of federal funds to tolerate, let alone tacitly encourage, those who advocate for violence against minorities like blacks or Hispanics. Yet Jews are supposed to tolerate this because the alternative is to approve of a president liberals feel obligated to oppose, even when he is doing something they’d approve of if it were directed toward ensuring the safety of others.

This is disgraceful in and of itself. It is also a repudiation of some basic principles implicit in the observance of Passover.

The story of a people that went from bondage and oppression to freedom is one that has inspired humanity for millennia. Like the Bible and the entire history of ancient Israel, the Exodus from Egypt has been adopted by many other peoples who quite naturally identified with the Jews because of their own suffering or because they, too, saw themselves as having a Divinely inspired mission.

But for Jews of all sorts, religious and non-religious, the Passover seder—the most commonly practiced Jewish ritual—is an annual opportunity to reconnect with their faith and their history. And it is particularly meaningful during those periods when they are under attack, as, sadly, has been a commonplace occurrence over the last two millennia.

#passover #passover lesson #haggadah #leading jewish groups #deborah lipstadt #donad trump #adl #lawrence summers #adam lehman #hillel

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pitlanepeach · 2 days ago

Text

Radio Silence | Chapter Two

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, mentions of an autistic meltdown, Lando being horrendously down-bad.

Notes — I love to ramble with ya’ll about my fics, so send me as many asks as you want!

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

2018

Amelia liked it when the pit garages were like this. Tools neatly racked, screens idle but ready, the scent of fresh tire rubber still hanging in the air — not yet burnt.

Fernando sat on a workbench, sipping his espresso.

She was perched on the same tire she always chose, butter-yellow water bottle in hand. There was enough ice inside to keep her drink cold all day, even under the Abu Dhabi sun. She wore a white cotton dress that would probably be stained with oil by the end of the day — she didn’t care.

"You are thinking too much," he said eventually, voice low, words shaped by the curl of his accent. "I can hear them.”

She turned the bottle slowly between her hands, listening to the ice crash against the insulated metal. “You can’t hear thinking.” She told him.

"I can when it is this loud," he replied. She frowned, staring at one of the stickers on her water bottle. Either there was a language barrier — or Fernando was some kind of mind reader. “You are worried about the new boys, yes?”

She rounded her shoulders up to her ears in response.

He shifted slightly, the sound of his espresso cup touching down on the metal bench. “You worry they will not like you. Or not understand you. That they will say stupid things.”

“I don’t care if they like me,” she said automatically, but her voice was too tight around the words. “I just… I don’t want to make them uncomfortable. Because I don’t act the way they will expect, since I’m their boss’ daughter. Or because I don’t always know how to—”

He cut her off with a short sound — not quite interrupting, just catching the sentence before it turned into something more self-deprecating than necessary. “Mi niña,” he said. “You are not responsible for the comfort of two boys. Especially not ones who still trip over their own feet getting into the car.”

She didn’t smile, but the edges of her thoughts softened.

“They come into your garage. You were here first. You are a very helpful addition.” He paused. “And you are never unkind. This is more than most.”

She tightened her grip on her water bottle. “I make people uncomfortable sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed, and his honesty was nice. People always tried to lie to her in a silly attempt to make her feel more normal. “But only the ones who do not listen properly to what you say.” He picked up his espresso again, then added, “And if they do not listen, I will teach them.”

Amelia glanced toward the open garage, where footsteps passed in rapid beats and voices moved in bursts. It was the last race of the 2018 season. Lewis had already secured the Drivers’ Championship. She’d sent a big cake to his house with Well Done for Being Fast written on it. He’d posted a picture on his Instagram, which meant he’d appreciated the gesture.

She glanced at her phone and started chewing on her bottom lip.

Thinking about Lewis only reminded her of the email — unread, unacknowledged — sitting in her meticulously organised inbox.

Toto Wolff had taken it upon himself to email her. From his personal address, not his work one — no “Mercedes” anywhere in sight.

She’d taken one look at the subject line (Unconditional Job Offer / Employment Opportunity) and promptly launched her phone across the room. Miraculously, the screen had survived.

Lewis had warned her more than once that his team principal was interested in her talents. She’d assumed it was flattery. Apparently not.

If her dad ever found out about the email, he’d have a full-blown meltdown — the kind usually reserved for her. A rival team trying to poach his daughter wasn’t just a personal affront; it was a declaration of war.

“Amelia,” Fernando said.

She didn’t look up right away.

"Yes?” She asked.

"Do not worry so much,” he said, tapping the side of his cup. "It ruins the coffee."

—

The MTC was half-empty, lit with the flat grey light of a British winter morning. Most people were still on holiday. Lando wasn’t most people anymore.

He tugged at the sleeves of his new team jacket as he walked the corridor past engineering, sneakers squeaking just slightly with each step. It still felt surreal; being here. Not as a junior, not as a maybe, but as a full-time McLaren Formula One driver.

He was so wrapped up in the thrill of it that he nearly walked right past her.

Amelia Brown was crouched beside a cart of sorted telemetry tablets, scanning each one like she was decoding a puzzle, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed unhappily. Her white trainers were smudged, her dark hair pulled back loosely, and her signature butter-yellow water bottle was sat beside her on the floor.

Lando stopped.

“Hey,” he said, a little too loud for how quiet the corridor was.

She looked up, blinked once, then gave a small nod. “Hello.”

Not cold. Not warm either. Just… Amelia.

“I, uh… I set two alarms now,” he blurted, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “So I’m never late anymore. Not even accidentally, you know?”

She turned her attention back to the tablets. “Okay.” She mumbled, hardly eligible.

He waited.

Right. That was it.

Just okay.

“You know,” he tried to remind her, smiling because he wasn’t sure what else to do with his face, “because you said I lacked discipline and wouldn’t get the promotion if I kept being late.”

“I did say that,” she said, tapping on one of the screens and letting out an almost silent sigh when the screen remained black. “It was a problem.”

Still nothing. No smile. No teasing.

Lando cleared his throat. “Right. Well. It’s not a problem now.”

“Good,” she said.

A pause stretched between them.

Lando rocked back on his heels. “Cool. Alright. I’ll just— I’ll see you around?”

Still, she didn’t look up. “Highly likely.”

He gave a quick nod and turned to go, cheeks warm.

He’d always thought of himself as pretty likeable. People laughed when he wanted them to. He was decent at reading a room — usually. But clearly, none of that meant anything to Amelia Brown.

As he walked off, he glanced back without thinking. And, like an absolute idiot, he stumbled a little when he saw her absolutely beam at one of the tablets as it flickered to life, screen lighting up her face like something out of a bloody PC World advert.

Jesus Christ. She was fucking pretty.

Not in a flashy, look-at-me way. Just… quietly, properly pretty. The kind of pretty that made his stomach do something proper dodgy. He dragged a hand through his hair, muttering to himself. “Yeah. Sick. Nice one, mate. You’ve got no chance.”

—

iMessage – Tuesday, 19:47

Lando mate she’s well fit

Max F. bro 💀

Lando can’t stop staring at her she probably thinks im a right creep

Max F. yeah probably who are you even talking abt

Lando zak’s daughter

Max F.

are you actually brain dead?

you can’t fancy your boss’s daughter, mate

Lando she smiled today not at me but i saw it

Max F. get a grip

Lando shut up you don’t get it

Max F. it’s a miracle you’ve still got a job

Lando is this a safe space or what??

Max F. absolutely not you’re delusional, mate she’s so off-limits it’s not even funny

Lando

🖕

—

The Browns didn’t really do Christmas — not in the traditional sense. No matching pyjamas, no big family gathering, no chaos in the kitchen over a turkey no one actually wanted. They kept it simple: jazz music, good coffee, and her dad’s usual schtick — “I forgot to buy you anything this year.”

Which was a lie. Obviously.

She found it parked just outside on the driveway. A muted grey, weather-worn 1974 BMW 2002.

Amelia stood and stared at it for a long time. Long enough that the cold bite of English winter started to seep in through her socks, and the tips of her fingers began to sting.

“Don’t just stand there,” her dad called from the doorway, hands tucked into his dressing gown pockets. “Take a proper look. She’s all yours.”

She took a slow step forward, then another. The car was old, but solid — just the way she liked things. A little rust, some scuffed chrome. It was beautiful. She crouched next to the front fender and ran her hand along the edge, careful, reverent.

“You hate shopping,” she said, still staring at it.

“I didn’t shop,” her dad replied. “I emailed a man named Clive and paid way too much to have him do all the work for me.”

There was a long silence.

She stood, glanced at him, tried — really tried — to meet his eyes. “Thank you,” she said.

He gave a small nod. “You’ll need new tires. And probably a carburettor.”

Her fingers curled tighter around the edge of her sleeves, but this time it wasn’t nerves — it was barely-contained energy. Her thoughts were already whirring; parts lists, toolkits, diagrams, weekends in the garage with grease on her hands and her favourite playlist playing on repeat.

“I— I can order those online,” she said, already calculating delivery times in her head. “And the belts. And the spark plugs. And—” She stopped herself.

He didn’t say anything. Just smiled into his coffee mug that said ‘Worlds Best Dad’ and stepped back inside, leaving her alone with her new car and barely contained excitement.

Her hands started moving at her sides — flapping, stimming, too fast to stop once they began. She shoved them into her pockets, fists clenched tight against the fabric. Closed her eyes.

She took a breath. Let it out slowly.

Old habits died hard. Years at school had taught her to mask her reactions — even the harmless ones — because they made her stand out. Because they made her weird.

She hadn’t just been ignored. She’d been mocked. Not always loudly, but enough to stick. The way she flapped her hands. The way she didn’t make eye contact. The way she talked too much about one thing and not enough about everything else.

There was a reason she’d chosen not to go to university, even though she loved learning. Even though engineering made perfect sense to her in ways people often didn’t.

She could get a degree. She’d probably be good at it.

But it would drain her — the social minefields, the unspoken rules, the overwhelming noise of lecture halls and shared spaces and trying to be something she wasn’t just to fit in.

She’d spent so long trying to pass as normal. To not stim in public. To not talk too much. To not be too much.

Once, a girl in her class had said, in a tone that Amelia guessed was meant to be kind, “At least you’re pretty. You wouldn’t be able to tell that you’ve got, you know… issues.”

She still thought about that sometimes.

How it was supposed to be a compliment.

How it hadn’t felt like one at all.

—

2019

The lights were off in her dad’s office. Just the soft hum of the monitor on standby, the gentle click of the old wall clock, and the warm, familiar scent of coffee baked into the furniture. She curled up on the old leather couch, knees tucked close to her chest, head resting against the arm. She had her weighted blanket on. Her yellow water bottle was beside her, half-full. The room felt like a safe haven.

After yesterday, that was all she wanted.

The meltdown had come on fast — she’d been too hot, the lights too bright, someone had changed the layout of the front-desk without warning her, and it had all just spiralled. She hated how quickly she lost herself in the emotions. Hated the looks people gave her when she couldn’t hold it all together.

She’d apologised more than she should have. Her dad told her that she never needed to apologise for being who she was.

The office door opened.

She didn’t move, but her eyes flicked toward the sound. Her dad stepped in first, deep in conversation, and behind him were Carlos and Lando.

“I told you, she’s probably curled up somewhere charging like a phone,” her dad said lightly, then saw her. His voice softened. “Ah. There she is. Amelia — this is Lando. And this is Carlos.”

She blinked. Sat up a little. “I already know Lando.”

Lando almost tripped over his own feet. “Yeah! Yeah, we’ve, uh— run into each other a few times. Around. Just, like—hallways. And stuff.”

He scratched the back of his neck. His face went bright pink.

Amelia stared at him for a moment before she turned her attention to Carlos. “Hello.”

He gave her a small smile. “Hola,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

There was a small pause.

Her dad cleared his throat, cheerful as ever.

“Carlos is one of the good ones,” he said. “No nonsense. I like that in a driver.”

Amelia nodded once. That made sense. She respected no-nonsense people, too.

She tucked her knees back under her chin. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Carlos smiled again, just a little wider this time. Still cautious, but less unsure.

Amelia didn’t return the smile — not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t always remember that she had to. Instead, she reached for her water bottle and unscrewed the lid.

“You retired in Australia,” she said.

Carlos blinked, then gave a small laugh. “Yeah. Not the best start to the season.”

“It was the power unit,” she shrugged. “Renault engine. Unreliable. It wasn’t your fault.”

Her dad gave a low chuckle. “She doesn’t miss much. Reads through race data like it’s the morning newspaper.”

Carlos tilted his head slightly. “You work with the engineers?” He asked her.

“I don’t work anywhere,” Amelia said. “But I sometimes sit in on meetings. And I fix things when they’re wrong. Fernando used to let me be in his garage. He said I was very useful.”

“You are useful,” her dad said automatically, from across the room.

She didn’t respond. Compliments were difficult — they always made her feel like she was meant to do something with them, and she never quite knew what.

She looked at Lando. He was already watching her.

She blinked. His eyes widened a little.

She let out a quiet sigh through her nose. She hated not knowing what expressions meant — what came next, what was expected.

“Well, I’ll take all the help I can get,” Carlos said, breaking the silence.

Amelia took another sip of water. The right words settled on her tongue this time.

“You overshot Turn Nine,” she said, turning back to Lando.

He coughed. “I—Yeah. I know.”

“You let off the brake too early. You always do that when you’re nervous.”

Carlos let out a small, choked sound.

She frowned at him.

Lando shifted. “I don’t always do that.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, turning her attention back to him. “You did it at Monza in 2018.”

“Okay.” He said. His neck was going red.

“But you’re getting better,” she added. “You were twelfth. That’s good, considering the partial engine fault.”

He looked at her for a second too long. She didn’t know why. Then he said, “…Thanks.”

She nodded once, and then tugged at her blanket.

There was a quiet pause — the kind Amelia usually didn’t mind. Lando shuffled his feet. Carlos glanced toward the door, then back to her.

“Right then! I’ll come find you later,” her dad said to her. “We’ll get something nice for lunch.”

“Okay.” She agreed.

Carlos gave her one last polite nod. “See you around, Amelia.”

She didn’t say goodbye, just looked at him, then at Lando. “You should eat more complex carbohydrates before qualifying sessions,” she told him. “You looked quite pale.”

Lando stared at her. “I—yeah. Alright.” He paused, then added quickly, “It was, uh, nice seeing you again.”

She didn’t answer, but her lips pressed together in a way that, for her, was close to a smile.

—

iMessage – Thursday, 10:51

Lando i’m fucked like properly fucked

Max F. bro come on

Lando she’s unreal and actually insanely smart

Max F. mate this is such a catastrophically bad idea

Lando she remembered i locked up into turn 9 in monza like three years ago i think i’m in love

Max F. you’re not in love you’re having a breakdown

Lando can’t it be both

Max F. lando i’m staging an intervention where’s jon⁉️ does he know you’re acting like this

Lando jon just keeps saying i should be stretching more he doesn’t care about my emotional wellbeing

Max F. he’d start to care if he found out you were thirsting after zak browns daughter

Lando gonna make her my wifey 😏

Max F. fucksake lando

—

Amelia stood behind the screens at the back of the McLaren pit garages, fingers looped through the sleeves of her jacket. She’d already organised the weekend’s tyre allocation list by compound, colour-coded the data feed to match, and adjusted the ride height figures twice. Not because she needed to — just because she could.

It was her first race of the year.

The first time back since before the winter break.

The new chassis looked better in person than it had in the renders. She liked the way the papaya paint caught the light.

“Amelia,” someone said softly.

She turned her head slightly. One of the engineers — Greg? Grant? She still hadn’t learned his name. She was terrible at remembering names.

“Telemetry’s live when you’re ready.” He told her.

She nodded once and moved closer, careful to avoid the cables that trailed across the floor like snakes.

The numbers lit up on the screen in front of her. Speed. G-force. Delta times.

She exhaled, long and slow.

“Morning.”

She looked up. Lando.

He was already in his race suit, helmet tucked under one arm, hair a mess and half-damp. He hadn’t had time to dry it properly after his shower.

“Hello,” she responded.

“You’re here,” he said, smiling. Then quickly added, “I mean — yeah, obviously. It’s only the third race. But still.”

She tilted her head. “Yes. I’m here.”

A pause. His mouth opened like he was going to say something else, then closed again.

“Okay, cool,” he said finally. “Sick. Um. Good luck out there.”

“I’m not driving,” she frowned at him.

“Right.” He turned and walked straight into a support beam.

Amelia blinked, then returned her attention to the screen.

Lando’s throttle trace was spiky again. She’d make a note of that.

—

The garage was quieter now. Not silent though. It was never fully silent. Engineers were keeping their voices low. Tools clinked still, but in a less urgent rhythm. Some of the pit crew were already sweeping up debris from the floor. Wiping away a mess that no one wanted to talk about.

Amelia stayed where she always did, behind the screens, legs crossed on the floor like it helped anchor her in place. Her yellow water bottle sat by her knee, half-empty and warm now. She hadn’t drunk much since the race started.

DNFs always left a strange taste in the air. Bitter. Like metal.

She hadn’t seen the full replay yet, but she didn’t need to. Lando’s car had made it twenty-eight laps before something failed; she’d seen the warning signs creeping into the data before the radio call was made. His voice had been clipped. Tired.

The flap of the garage partition opening made her flinch. She didn’t look up. She didn’t need to.

It was obviously Lando. His helmet was gone, race suit peeled halfway down, sweat-damp fireproofs clinging to his arms. He stopped just beside her.

“I’m fine,” he said. His voice cracked a little. “In case anyone’s, you know. Wondering.”

Amelia didn’t respond.

He hovered.

She tapped the edge of her tablet. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Kind of was.” He dropped onto the floor beside her with a groan, back against the wall. “Clipped the kerb weird coming out of six. Probably jarred something.”

“No,” she said. “You were nursing a power unit issue from lap seventeen. You did what you were supposed to.”

He looked at her, then away again, picking at the velcro on his gloves.

She watched him for a second. Tried to decide if she was supposed to say something else. If there was something people usually said in moments like this.

Nothing came.

So she offered the only thing she could give. Facts. “You did better than the data predicted.”

Lando glanced at her. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

She squinted at him. Hadn’t that been obvious? “Yes.”

He smiled a little. Just with the corner of his mouth. “Cheers.”

They sat there in silence for a while. A few people came over to touch Lando’s shoulder and offer him sympathy. His jaw got tighter every time.

Eventually, she picked up her tablet and started rewatching his onboard. Then she angled it toward him.

“You’re going to tell me exactly what I did wrong, aren’t you?” he asked.

She nodded.

He let his head thump back against the wall. “Brilliant.”

—

The motorhome had quieted after media duties and the two-hour race debrief. Lando sat slouched on the drivers' lounge sofa, phone in hand, aimlessly scrolling. Carlos was across from him, arms folded, watching with a look Lando had come to recognise: the I know something you don’t want me to know look.

“I need to ask you something,” Carlos said, tone casual. But the accent gave it weight — Som-theeng.

Lando didn’t look up. “No.”

Carlos chuckled. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna say, coño.”

“I do.” Lando groaned. “And the answer is still no.”

Carlos leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You like her.”

“What? No, I—” Lando paused, brow furrowed. “Like who?”

Carlos tilted his head. “Come on. Don’t play dumb, amigo. Amelia. You like Amelia Brown.”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. We’ve barely talked.”

Even he could hear the lie in his own voice.

Carlos raised a silent eyebrow.

“I’m just being respectful!” Lando snapped. “She’s—she’s McLaren royalty, basically. And she knows more about my car than I do half the time.”

Carlos shrugged, eyes sharp. “Sí, she’s smart. And I like her. But...” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “You need to be careful, cabrón.”

Lando’s jaw tensed. “Why? Do you like her? Is that what this is?” The words came out sharper than he intended, something hot and ugly twisting in his gut. Jealousy. Stupid, immediate, and impossible to hide.

Carlos blinked. “Ay, no. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Lando didn’t say anything, but the look on his face said he wasn’t convinced.

Carlos sat back, arms folding again. “She’s not a paddock flirt, okay? She’s not like the grid girls or the influencers who want a selfie and a race pass. She is your boss’ daughter. You screw that up, it’s not just her you lose — it’s your job, your reputation, and the respect of thr whole damn garage. If you haven’t already lost your seat.”

Lando looked away, jaw tight. “Why does everyone act like I’m some... idiot teenager with zero self-control?”

Carlos held his gaze. “Because you are a teenager with zero self-control.”

“I’m nineteen!” He argued.

“Exactly.” Carlos exhaled through his nose. “So, listen to me. If you’re serious? Fine. But don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”

Lando looked away, jaw tight. “I’m not a total dickhead, y’know.”

Carlos gave him a long look, then nodded. “Bueno. Just remember what I said.”

Lando muttered under his breath, “Still worth it.”

Carlos groaned, grabbing a cushion off the sofa and chucking it at him. “Ay dios mío. You are so getting yourself fired.”

—

Amelia was sat on the low wall outside the McLaren hospitality unit, sipping from her water bottle, tablet balanced on her knees.

She heard him before she saw him — Lewis never really moved quietly. Valtteri was beside him.

“Morning, little genius,” Lewis said, slowing to a stop.

She looked up, blinked once. “Good morning.”

Valtteri gave a small nod. “You’re looking well.”

“I’m fine,” she said, glancing back down at her tablet.

There was a pause.

She sighed softly before looking up at them both. “You can tell Toto thank you,” she said, tone even. “For the offer. I appreciate it, but I’m not interested.”

Lewis blinked. “Offer?”

“Yes. The job.” She paused. “I assumed he’d told you.”

Valtteri and Lewis exchanged a glance; surprised, a little caught off guard.

“He didn’t,” Valtteri said slowly.

Lewis folded his arms. “He reached out to you directly?”

She nodded. “From his personal email. Not the Mercedes one.” That felt important.

Lewis let out a low whistle. “Damn. That sneaky bastard.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Amelia went on. “And I’m staying with my team. With my dad. Loyalty is important to me.”

Valtteri raised his brows. Lewis looked at her for a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. “Well, he’ll be disappointed,” he said, voice lighter now.

Amelia shrugged. “He’ll be fine.”

“Guess we’ll just have to beat you on track then,” Valtteri added, grinning.

She frowned down at her tablet screen. “You have a significantly better car than us.”

Lewis laughed. “Yeah. Guess we do.”

—

“Miss Brown, I’d like a word.”

She turned, blinked, and then frowned.

The team principal for Renault smiled at her, a little too wide — it was off-putting.

“I’ll just jump straight to it. I think you could be a great asset to our team. We’d love to have someone with your brain power. I could offer you a very generous employment package.” He said.

She blinked at him. She’d been getting these exact kinds of propositions ever since the season started. Every team, it seemed, was suddenly interested in her ‘brain power’. She wasn’t sure what had changed. Maybe they had followed her on Twitter.

“I am happy where I am,” she said flatly. “Thank you.”

The man was still smiling, though it was starting to fade just a little. “Are you sure? We’d be willing to work out a very appealing arrangement for you. It could be a great opportunity.”

She wasn’t interested. She didn’t need to be polite. It didn’t take a lot of effort to walk away from the conversation. She took a step back, her fingers clenching around her yellow water bottle.

As she moved past him, she heard him call after her, but she didn’t stop.

Gosh, she thought to herself, as she made her way back to McLaren motorhome. Could none of them find anyone better than a 19-year-old without a degree?

NEXT CHAPTER

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theexaltedbride · 1 day ago

Text

Rabbit with a Deceased Reader lover Headcanons.

Losing you was one of the worst pains Rabbit has ever experienced. When it first happened it was a blinding agony which drowned out all of his other senses. Now it is a dull ache constantly on his heart which waxes and wanes, but in its own way...it is a good pain. Because it tells the demon that he truly did have a heart, and he really did love you.

'If this is why Sparda did what he did...then I understand.' He thinks to himself as his hand moves in circles over his own heart, still trying to soothe the aching, if even for just a moment.

Being a demon means he's lived a long time and seen many horrors. Far too many than is right for anyone to have to ever endure.

After a while it becomes easy to ignore them, he just let them slide off his soul like water off of a duck's back. But that same emotional state would just as common with the good events too. It all became like a blur after a while. A dull gray haze where thoughts were rendered into nothing but a faint buzz at the back of the mind.

Rabbit felt like he was sleepwalking through life until he met you.

You were different. The time you and rabbit spent together was like a reprieve from the daily discomfort and hardship, a stay of execution on his very soul. It let him forget all his troubles for a few blessed years. The good times and the bad times are still clear in his mind, even if they've begun fraying at the edges, and specific details have blurred, he still remembers you. Rabbit never forgot your favorite mix of tea that he would brew for you. He never forgot how it felt to dance with you, to hold you, kiss you, the feeling of your fingers between his own.

Whenever Rabbit is alone at night, unable to sleep, he will close his eyes and think of the soothing memories he had of you, just casually walking together, him showing you the small creatures of Makai which weren't dangerous, or just holding you close to him and sharing the warmth of your bodies. They are still fresh in his mind, and never fail to bring him comfort.

It almost makes up for how he's forgotten your scent (despite his best efforts), how he can't remember the exact sound of your laugh or what it felt like to run his hands through your hair. Things slip through his grasp even despite his best efforts. Each time he loses a memory, it's like a small part of him has died.

-Rabbit's mood has permanently soured with your passing. He still smiles and laughs on occasion, but much of the time has him serious or frowning. Thoughts of you on your best days never fail to bring at least a half smile to his face.

-Any trinket of yours which survived your passing will become cherished by him, and losing it or misplacing it will drive him rabid. Even just forgetting where he put it has him scurrying around a room and turning things over, only able to calm down once he can feel it in the palm of his hand or press it to his chest, above his heart, as if it were a bandage over the hole left when you died.

-Like with Dante and the flight attendant who looked like his mother, anyone who looks or acts like you will get a reaction from Rabbit. His temper will be cooled by them and he will be more lenient than he would with others. But he knows that they aren't you, and this is just him longing for what he can't have anymore.

-The temptation to go full Dr. Frankenstein, or make deals with more powerful demons to bring you back to lie is always there for Rabbit. If he could just have you back for even a single day, it would be worth the price. But he never does it. He fears what would happen if you were brought back 'wrong', or if your soul were snatched up by some other demon. Or worse...if you were in an actual Heaven of your own, and he was stealing you away from it....he misses you, but he wouldn't want to rob you of paradise like that.

-Rabbit will tell the story of how you and he met to younger Makaians as if it were a fairy tale, spinning a yarn about a noble (if headstrong) Rabbit prince of a lost kingdom trying to win the heart of their one true love.

It's easier for him to think of it that way, because sometimes he struggles to believe he could ever be so lucky as to earn someone like you in his life. He thinks himself unworthy of such love, and that was why he lost you.

"If there is a God in charge of all of this, he took my dearest from me, because I don't deserve that kind of happiness." He would say if anyone managed to learn about how much he still misses you.

"I'm vile, I'm hateful to the extreme, I'm prideful, I...didn't appreciate my dearest enough. So, I didn't deserve to have them."

-Sometimes he truly wishes he could just fade out, and leave it all behind. But he made you a promise in your last moments, that he would live. He'd find happiness, and he wouldn't lose himself to despair.

-He doesn't know if he will ever move on...maybe he will, demons live a very long time after all, or maybe he won't. But whatever choice he makes, his love for you and those precious moments you both spent together will never stop mattering to him. Rabbit will keep them with him till he too fades, and if there is an afterlife for creatures like him, he swears to find you there.

========

Couple's Playlist.

'Strong For Somebody Else' ~Citizen Soldier.

'Who wants to live forever?' ~ Queen.

#dmc rabbit x reader #dmc rabbit #devil may cry netflix #white rabbit x reader #canon x reader #devil may cry rabbit x reader #devil may cry white rabbit #rabbit x reader

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silentnights-stuff · 1 day ago

Text

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Author’s Note:

Hey guys! I’m finally back—exams are over, and wow, the past few weeks have been absolutely hectic. I was buried under books, deadlines, and way too much stress, but somehow I survived it all. Honestly, it took everything in me not to open my laptop and dive back into writing because I missed it (and you all!) so much.

But now that I’m free, I couldn’t wait a second longer to jump back into the story. So here it is—the next part, fresh out of my post-exam brain. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for being patient and sticking around!

⌗ Across the Fence𓂃 ࣪˖ ᥫ᭡.

Pedri gonzalez × fem!reader

Part- 3

Masterlist

Content Warning: alcohol consumption, strong language, chaotic drunken behaviour, emotional breakdowns, Pedri trying (and failing) to keep it together, Gavi being the designated sarcastic third wheel, emotional vulnerability, romantic tension.

Word Count: 6620

Tagged: @moonvr — let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!

Note: Here’s a playlist of songs that inspired me while writing these. If you’re diving into part 3, start the playlist with Ain’t My Fault by Zara Larsson.

The moment the car stopped in front of the house, Pedri was out before anyone else could react. He barely registered the cool night air or the muffled bass of the music vibrating through the walls. His only thought was her.

The house was packed, bodies moving in every direction, but it didn’t matter. Pedri pushed through without hesitation, barely sparing a glance at anyone in his way. He will deal with Gavi and Cubarsí tomorrow right now, Gabi was all he cared about.

And then he saw her.

She was in the centre of the room, completely lost in the music. The dim lights flickered across her skin like fireflies, and the way she moved effortlessly, free, glowing, it was like the world itself was dancing with her.

Sofía twirled her, and Gabi let out a bright laugh, head tipping back as her hair fanned around her. Every move was instinctive, like the beat was flowing into her veins. Cubarsí, Marc, Ferran, Fermín, Jules, and Gavi stood around them, not just dancing, but protecting them—forming an invisible barrier so no one could get too close.

Pedri stopped for a second, breath caught in his throat.

She was enchanting. The way her body swayed, the way her eyes sparkled, the way her laughter melted with the melody, she was a sight he could never look away from.

For the first time in his life, Pedri thought maybe alcohol wasn’t such a bad thing.

He took a step forward, weaving through the crowd. Just as he reached her, she turned, her hair smacking him lightly in the face. He barely reacted. His hand instinctively found her shoulder, turning her toward him.

And then she saw him.

Her face lit up like she was the moon in his night sky.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her fingers together behind him. “Where were you?” she pouted. “I was so disappointed not to see you.”

Pedri exhaled, his hands resting at her waist. “I’m sorry, Hamster. I wasn’t here, I went out to buy some booze.”

Gabi blinked, processing that information. “Oh.” Then, without missing a beat, she grabbed his hand, dragging him to dance with her.

Pedri let her. His grip on her waist tightened as they moved together, bodies swaying in sync with the music.

He leaned in slightly. “Are you having fun?”

“Yup, it’s really exciting to be here! I’m loving it!” Gabi exclaimed, swaying happily to the music. Then she paused, squinting up at Pedri with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Buuuut… you won’t be mad at me if I tell you a little secret, right?”

Pedri couldn’t stop looking at her. There was something so innocent about her in this moment, despite the absolute chaos she caused. He could pretend to be mad, but it would be a miserable attempt.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Gabi, you know you can tell me anything. You’re the last person on earth I’d ever get mad at.” His voice softened. “Go ahead, love.”

Gabi gasped dramatically, clutching onto his black Valentino bomber jacket like he was her lifeline. Then she pulled herself up, so close he could feel her breath against his skin as she whispered in his ear.

“You know…” she giggled, gripping him tighter, “I drank half a bottle of Absolut.” She pulled back, wide-eyed. “But you don’t get to tell anyone.”

Pedri was struggling. Not because of what she said honestly, that was expected but because of the way she had leaned in, her lips grazing his ear, sending goosebumps down his entire body. And as if that wasn’t enough to destroy him, the next thing he knew—

Soft lips pressed against his cheek.

Gabi kissed him.

Pedri froze. Completely starstruck, his mind short-circuiting while she just… casually pulled away, completely unaware of the damage she just caused.

And then, as if she hadn’t just ruined him, she grinned. “Heard you bought more vodka! I’m gonna go get some!”

And just like that, before Pedri could even react, she disappeared into the crowd, vanishing into the neon lights and smoke like she was never even there.

Pedri stood there, absolutely shell-shocked, his cheek still tingling from where Gabi had kissed him. The bass of the music vibrated through the floor, and people moved around him, but he felt nothing. Heard nothing.

Because what the hell just happened?

One second, she was whispering in his ear, driving him insane, and the next—she kissed him, dropped a bomb about drinking half a bottle of vodka, and then vanished into the party like some kind of drunken magician.

Absolutely not.

There was no way he was letting her disappear into this chaos when she was already drunk out of her mind.

His chest felt tight as his eyes swept across the crowded room, his pulse pounding in his ears. The flashing neon lights did nothing to help colours blurring, people shifting—but then, finally, he spotted her.

By the drinks table.

Gabi stood there, staring at a bottle of vodka as if she were mentally trying to get it to open by itself. Her brows furrowed in deep concentration, lips pursed slightly, fingers hovering near the cap—but she wasn’t actually touching it.

Pedri exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

For fuck’s sake.

Without another thought, he moved, cutting through the crowd with practised ease, zeroing in on her like a man on a mission.

Just as Gabi finally reached for the bottle, Pedri snatched it away.

"Nope."

A dramatic gasp.

Gabi spun around, offended, as he had just stolen her firstborn child.

“Hey!” she cried, eyes wide. “Thass mine!”

Pedri raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”

“Yes,” she huffed, crossing her arms. Or, well—trying to. Her movements were loose and uncoordinated as if even her own body wasn’t sure what it was doing. “I claimed it.”

Pedri let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, did you?”

“Yes.” She nodded so seriously like she was delivering a royal declaration. Then, she poked his chest, her finger pressing against the fabric of his hoodie with great effort. “And you, sir, are stealing.”

Pedri leaned down slightly, levelling her with a look. “Gabi, you’ve already had half a bottle. I think that’s enough for one night, don’t you?”

She squinted up at him. “Pedri, sweetheart, my love—”

Oh, fuck.

He was in trouble.

“—I’m not even drunk.”

Pedri just stared at her. “Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ dramatically, swaying slightly. “M’ perfectly fine.”

Pedri tilted his head, amusement creeping into his voice. “Then what’s seven times eight?”

Gabi gasped.

Her entire body stiffened, eyes going huge with genuine betrayal.

She staggered back a step, clutching her chest as if he had just stabbed her.

“How dare you?” she whispered, voice full of pure devastation.

Pedri bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a laugh.

Her lips parted, her expression twisting into something dramatic as she looked at him like he was some traitorous villain. “What kind of best friend tests his friends like that?”

Pedri exhaled sharply. “Gabi—”

“Math, Pedri?” She pointed a finger at him, stumbling slightly as she stepped closer. “You would really do that to me?”

“I can’t believe this.” She threw her hands up, completely ignoring the way she almost smacked someone passing by. “I thought we had trust!”

Gabi gasped, her eyes going comically wide as she swayed on her feet, pointing an accusing finger at Pedri. “You—” she hiccuped, brows furrowing in intense concentration, “—are no fun.”

Pedri let out a slow breath, his grip tightening on the vodka bottle as she made yet another attempt to grab it. Her fingers barely grazed the glass before he pulled it further away, holding it above her reach like she was some kind of feral child.

“Gabi,” he said, voice laced with exhaustion, “you’re drunk.”

“No, you’re drunk,” she snapped back without thinking, blinking up at him like she had just delivered the perfect comeback.

Pedri raised an eyebrow. “I don’t drink.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just proven some groundbreaking theory. “How would you even know what too drunk is, huh? HUH, PEDRO?”

Pedri closed his eyes for a brief second. Deep breaths. Patience.

“That’s not my name.”

“Yes, it is,” she huffed, swaying slightly as she reached for the bottle again. “And I—” another hiccup, “—demand you return what is rightfully mine.”

Pedri leaned back, holding the bottle further out of her reach. “Not happening, Hamster.”

“PEDRI,” she whined, stomping her foot like a frustrated child. “Give. Me. The. Vodka.”

He looked at her flatly. “No.”

“Why are you like this?” she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Who made you this boring?”

“I’m not boring,” he said with a sigh. “I’m just responsible.”

Gabi let out a loud, exaggerated scoff. “That’s literally the same thing.”

Pedri rubbed a hand down his face. “Gabi—”

She suddenly gasped, stumbling forward as she gripped his hoodie like she had just discovered the biggest scandal of the century.

“Oh my God.”

Pedri tensed. “What now?”

“YOU JUST LOVE CONTROLLING ME, DON’T YOU?”

Pedri blinked. “What?”

Gabi nodded aggressively, wobbling in place. “First, you tell me not to drink—”

“Because you had half a bottle—”

“Then, you tell me what to do—”

“Because you tried to climb the kitchen counter—”

“And now, you’re stealing from me.” She gasped, stepping back like she had just uncovered some grand betrayal. “You’re a thief, Pedri!”

Pedri let out a slow, tired exhale. “I swear to God, Gabi—”

“LET GO OF MY BOTTLE RIGHT FUCKING NOW, PEDRO!”

And that was it.

That was his final straw.

Pedri moved before she could react, grabbing her by the waist and effortlessly flipping her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

A shriek.

A loud one.

“PEDRI, PUT ME DOWN, YOU TRAITOR!”

“Nope.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST KIDNAP ME!”

“I literally can.”

“THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Pedri barely spared her a glance as he adjusted his grip, making sure she wouldn’t slip. “Sue me.”

“I WILL!”

“No, you won’t.”

Gabi huffed dramatically, her arms crossed even though she was dangling upside down. “I hate you.”

Pedri smirked, making his way toward the stairs. “No, you don’t.”

“...I do.”

“Sure, Hamster.”

“You are officially my enemy.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I’m never talking to you again.”

Pedri let out a breathy chuckle. “Can’t wait for that.”

Gabi gasped, smacking his back. “PEDRI!”

Pedri just shook his head, grinning as he carried her up the stairs, her drunken protests echoing through the hallway.

This girl.

She was actually going to be the death of him.

But somehow?

He didn’t even mind.

─────────────────────────────────　

Pedri struggled to bring Gabi to the room, her manic outburst making it nearly impossible to keep a steady grip. She might have just completed the Vulgarity Dictionary, her words flying from her mouth in an unfiltered, rapid succession of languages and accents, so fast that Pedri could barely keep up. But despite her chaotic tirade, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. She was saying these to him, and no one else.

That thought alone made him feel oddly special. If she were giving anyone else this much of her attention, he’d be burning with jealousy. But this? This was his time. If she wanted to shout at him, he’d be on the ground, letting her walk all over him, and he’d accept it gladly. After all, no one else would get the privilege of being in her chaotic presence like he did.

As they climbed the stairs, Gabi's failing limbs only grew more frantic, each shout and complaint louder than the last. People passing by shot Pedri confused looks, some trying to stifle their laughter, while others who knew him offered pats on the back or casual greetings. One or two even acknowledged Gabi, despite her being upside down in his grip.

"Oi, Pedri! You need help with that gremlin?" one of his friends called out, laughter in his voice.

"No, I got it. Barely," Pedri grunted, adjusting his hold as Gabi smacked his back with surprising force.

"Let me go, you absolute tyrant!" Gabi shrieked, twisting in his arms, her voice high-pitched with frustration. "You are violating my rights!"

"And you are violating everyone’s peace, hamster," Pedri replied, dodging her flailing legs with practised ease.

Another passerby chuckled, shaking his head. "She’s got a lot of fight in her, huh?"

"You have no idea," Pedri muttered, his grip on her tightening as she suddenly went limp, like a dead weight over his shoulder.

"If I go limp, you’ll have to drop me," she announced smugly, her voice dripping with mockery.

Pedri rolled his eyes. "No, I’ll just carry you like a sack of potatoes instead."

"I hate you!" Gabi whined, smacking his back again. "And I hate stairs! And I hate—ugh!—this stupid world!" Her voice became more theatrical as she added, "Help me! I’m being kidnapped!"

Raphinha, one of Pedri’s teammates, leaned casually against the railing, his smirk widening at the scene unfolding. "Good luck, hermano. She looks feisty tonight."

"Feisty is an understatement," Pedri muttered, barely suppressing a grin as Gabi’s bilingual barrage continued. She was going on and on, switching from Korean to Spanish to Filipino in rapid succession, the energy from her words only fueling Pedri’s amused patience.

By the time they reached the room, Pedri felt like he had just wrestled a hurricane. Gabi’s ranting had left him mentally exhausted, but the thought of her being here with him kept him grounded. She may have been a handful, but at least she was his handful.

Pedri walked into the hallway, his arms straining under the weight of Gabi as he tried to balance her over his shoulder. She was still grumbling, her protests muffled but persistent, a constant stream of complaints escaping her lips. His hand fumbled for the key in his pocket, the cold metal brushing against his fingers. He twisted it with more force than necessary, the sharp click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway as the door finally gave way.

He took a deep breath, his grip tightening on Gabi as she squirmed in his hold. "Hold still, Gabi," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained but with a hint of amusement. "We’re almost there."

“Yeah, almost there to my doom,” Gabi shot back sarcastically, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed against his back. “Just drop me already. It’s not like I’m going anywhere."

Pedri let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he twisted the door handle. "You think I’d actually do that?" He stepped inside, the door swinging open with a soft creak, revealing the dimly lit room. "We’ve locked most of the second-floor doors for safety reasons," he added, the words slipping out almost mechanically as if he had repeated them a hundred times before. It was true—no one wanted to risk damage, but right now, he was just focused on getting her inside.

Inside, the room was simple—nothing extravagant. A bed sat in the centre, surrounded by soft, dim lighting that bathed the space in a warm glow. The walls were adorned with a few paintings, each one capturing a moment frozen in time and to the side, a bathroom door stood discreetly, completing the serene atmosphere.

"Okay, you're officially inside," Pedri said, carefully lowering her off his shoulder and setting her down on the bed with careful precision, even though Gabi flopped onto it dramatically as soon as her feet touched the mattress.. "Now, you can either lie there and keep complaining, or you can actually try to relax."

“Relax?” Gabi scoffed, rolling her eyes as she straightened herself up. “I’ve been carried like a ragdoll, practically suffocated by your shoulder, and you want me to relax? Do you have any idea how—ugh, forget it,” she muttered, throwing herself onto the bed with a dramatic flop. “I swear, Pedri, you’re the worst."

Pedri chuckled, standing at the edge of the bed, watching her with a soft smile. "Hey, at least I didn’t drop you on the floor. You should be thanking me."

Gabi raised an eyebrow, giving him a mockingly unimpressed look. "Oh, the horrors of being carried like a princess. Truly, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes affectionately as he ran a hand through his hair. "You're welcome, Gabi. Anytime."

She groaned, rubbing her head. "You are the worst! I was having fun! But nooo, Pedri has to be the responsible one."

Pedri smirked, crossing his arms. "Now, love, where were we? Oh, right. You called me ‘motherfucker’ in Korean, didn’t you?" He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Don’t forget, missy—I sat beside you while you watched those Korean dramas. I do know what ‘gaejasig-a’ means. Better luck next time."

Gabi shot up, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Walang hiya ka! I hate you!"

Pedri blinked. "Okay, now we’re in Filipino. Are you just cycling through languages to confuse me?"

"I was having fun, Pedri! But you just had to stick your nose in other people’s business!" she huffed, kicking her feet against the mattress.

Pedri raised an eyebrow. "Your business is my business, hamster."

“There you go again!” She clenched her fists. "Always acting like you know everything! Always treating me like some reckless idiot! Maybe I just wanted to let loose for once! Maybe I didn’t need you hovering over me like some—some helicopter parent!"

Pedri frowned, his amusement fading. "Is that really what you think? That I just enjoy controlling you? Gabi, I was just looking out for you. You were barely standing upright when I found you."

"I don’t need you to save me!" she shot back, but her voice wavered.

Pedri sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had seen Gabi get worked up before, but something about this felt different. Her frustration ran deeper than a ruined night.

He knelt down, lowering himself to her level, and gently reached for her hands. His touch was soft, his thumb gliding over her knuckles in soothing strokes.

“Is something bothering you?” His voice was low, steady, filled with concern.

Gabi dropped her gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. She was trying to hold it together, but Pedri had already found the cracks in her armour.

“Hamster, can you look at me, please?” he urged gently.

That was all it took. The floodgates broke. The tears she had been fighting against for hours finally spilt over. The first one rolled down her cheek, silent and unrelenting, landing on Pedri’s hand. Then another. And another. Until she was trembling, her breath coming out in shaky, uneven gasps.

Pedri’s heart clenched at the sight. Without a second thought, he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before pulling her into his arms.

“I got you,” he murmured, his voice steady, his hold firm.

Gabi buried her face in his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly as her sobs wracked through her small frame. "It’s not fair, Pedri!" she choked out. "Everyone else gets to have fun, to live their lives, and I’m just—stuck! Stuck with assignments, stuck with responsibilities, stuck being the person who always has to do the right thing! They have the same work as me and the same deadlines, but somehow, they still get to enjoy themselves. Why can’t I? Why am I always the one missing out?"

Pedri’s hold on her tightened, his heart aching at the weight of her words. "Gabi…"

"No!" she interrupted, shaking her head against his chest. "And you know what’s worse? It’s my fault! I do this to myself! Every time someone tries to pull me out of my comfort zone, I push them away. Even you. You try so hard, and most of the time, I shut you out. I don’t know why I do it—I just... I’m scared, Pedri. I’m scared of change, but I’m also scared of actually letting myself live."

“It’s okay, Gabi. I’m here for you, no matter what,” Pedri whispered, his voice steady yet tender as he held her trembling frame close. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, gripping it like a lifeline. He could feel the shuddering breaths she took against his chest, her body both rigid and fragile in his arms.

“Cry until there are no tears left, scream until your voice gives out. Break whatever you need to—I’ll fix it. If you need to hit someone, hit me. Or better yet, I’ll get you a stuffed toy so you can take it all out on that. Do whatever you want. Drink until you pass out if you have to—I’ll carry you home. Just don’t hate yourself, okay? Are we clear?”

Gabi nodded, her lashes clumped together from the endless tears. Her breath hitched as she rested against his chest, gripping his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. Pedri looked down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her damp face. “It’s okay to cry,” he murmured, his warmth wrapping around her like a shield. “We can stay like this as long as you need, but I think you could use some water after all that, hmm?”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he unlocked it with a quick glance, his thumb moving effortlessly through his contacts. He tapped on Gavi’s name and brought the phone to his ear. The ringing stretched on until, finally, Gavi picked up on the tenth ring.

“Hello, my love! What can I do for you?” came the familiar teasing voice on the other end.

Pedri sighed, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, bro. Can you bring a bottle of water to the guest room? Third one on the second floor.”

“Yeah, anything for you, my love. If you want my blood, I’ll bring that too.”

A breathy chuckle escaped Pedri. “Nope, just water, thanks. Love ya.”

As he ended the call and set his phone aside, his attention returned to Gabi. “He’s on his way. Until then, tell me—what do you want to do? You said you wanted to have fun like everyone else. Whatever it is, hamster, I’m up for it. Want me to kill someone or what?”

Gabi, still curled against him, lifted her head, her lips curving into a weak smile despite the tear tracks on her cheeks. “You know, Pedri, you’re the best. The absolute best. I’m never leaving your dumbass.”

Pedri smirked, his voice a playful murmur. “You can’t. Even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t let you.”

Gabi rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him. “You’re some different kind of asshole, aren’t you?”

Before Pedri could reply, a soft knock echoed through the room. Gabi tilted her head, amusement flickering in her tired eyes. “That must be our angry bird.”

“Yup, my boyfriend’s here,” Pedri quipped, reluctantly detaching himself from her warmth as he strode toward the door. He twisted the knob, revealing Gavi standing there dramatically, eyes squeezed shut as if preparing for something scandalous. One hand covered his face while the other clutched a fresh bottle of water.

“You guys are in a decent state, right?” Gavi asked, cracking one eye open suspiciously.

Pedri huffed and smacked the back of his head. “Stop talking nonsense. Come in if you want.”

Gavi grinned, winking at Gabi as he stepped inside. He strutted forward with exaggerated confidence, puffing out his chest. “If I get to see that lovely lady on the bed, I can come anywhere. What do you say, Gabi? I’m way better than all the guys downstairs. Even Pedri could learn a thing or two from me. So, my love, do you want to be mine?” He made his way to the bed, dramatically grasping her hand and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Gabi smirked. “Of course, I’ll marry you—when every other man on this planet vanishes.”

Gavi turned to Pedri triumphantly. “See? She’s already considering marrying me.”

Pedri rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. After I cut your balls off.”

Settling back onto the bed, he twisted the cap off the water bottle, the seal cracking as he handed it to Gabi. Just as she reached for it, her expression suddenly shifted. Her body tensed, her stomach visibly clenching as realization dawned on her. In an instant, she shot up from the bed and bolted toward the bathroom, flinging the door open with a bang before collapsing in front of the toilet, retching violently.

Pedri was at her side in seconds, his hand running up and down her back in soothing strokes. “It’s okay, just let it out,” he murmured. “It’ll help get the alcohol out of your system.”

Gavi leaned against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed as he smirked. “So, another bottle of Absolut, then? Since the first one didn’t stay down?”

Gabi groaned between heaves. “Never drinking again.”

Gavi snorted. “That’s what they all say. But I think you need more than just water right now—maybe some juice or something. I’ll go grab it.”

Still kneeling beside the toilet, Gabi lifted her head weakly, her glassy eyes finding Gavi’s figure in the doorway. Her voice wavered, thick with exhaustion. “You know… I love you both.”

Then, without warning, another wave of nausea hit, and she ducked her head back down. Pedri chuckled while Gavi, ever the dramatist, spun on his heel. “I love you too, bitch! Write it down!” he called as he left.

Pedri stayed beside her, his hand never leaving her back. Gabi’s chest ached, not just from throwing up, but from the overwhelming warmth settling inside her. How did she get so lucky to have them?

“I think I like drunk Gabi the best,” Pedri mused, smirking as he pulled her hair back gently.

Gavi returned a few minutes later, his arms filled with five bottles of water. “Alright, I came back, but I saw a cute girl downstairs. And listen, I care about Gabi, truly, but getting her number is more important.”

Pedri rolled his eyes, taking two bottles from him. “You’re a disaster.”

Despite her miserable state, Gabi let out a weak giggle. Gavi pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Listen, if you ever need a drinking partner, I’ll gladly be yours. Pedri, on the other hand, is dry as fuck.”

Pedri scoffed. “You’re both a pain in my ass.”

Gabi sat on the cold bathroom tiles, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy, and her breathing uneven from the whole ordeal.

Still, he made sure she drank two full bottles of water, grumbling about not wanting to explain to their mothers why she looked dehydrated as hell.

Pedri had crouched beside her, holding out a bottle of water and gently tucking her hair behind her ears.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was comforting, like a blanket they both knew how to share.

“You alright now?” he asked softly, his voice low.

“Yeah,” she said hoarsely, taking a sip of water. “God, that was disgusting.”

Pedri gave her a small grin. “You’ve done grosser things.”

Gabi chuckled, weak but genuine. “Like the time we stuck glue to Cubarsí’s hat during that summer campaigning trip?”

“Oh my God,” Pedri laughed, eyes lighting up. “He had to shave his head. He looked like a boiled egg.”

“He was so pissed,” Gabi said, a smile spreading across her lips. “He chased Gavi with a mop around the whole camp. And then we got punished instead of him.”

“Cleaning the dining hall for a week,” Pedri recalled. “And Gavi somehow made it worse by breaking the mop handle trying to ‘fence’ with it.”

“That dumbass said he was training for the Olympics.”

Their laughter echoed slightly off the tile walls. Gabi leaned her head back, a bit more at ease now. “God, we were such little disasters.”

They both laughed, heads tilted back against the wall. The memory was so vivid it almost felt like they were there again—sweaty summer air, Cubarsí’s furious shouts, and the smell of dried glue in the cabin.

“And eighth grade,” Gabi continued, her smile turning mischievous. “When Sofía told Gavi he wasn’t strong enough to fight her.”

Pedri winced. “I’ll never forget his face when she kicked him. Dead center.”

“He fell like a sack of bricks. I thought he fainted.”

“He squeaked, Gabi. He actually squeaked.”

They both burst out laughing again, tears forming in the corners of Gabi’s eyes now—not from throwing up this time, but from laughing too hard.

“I remember Sofía standing over him and saying, ‘Told you so,’ like a queen.”

“She is a queen,” Pedri agreed, grinning. “I still don’t know if I’m scared of her or in love with her.”

“Both,” Gabi said with a smirk.

They laughed harder this time, both remembering how dramatic Gavi had made the whole situation, even limping for a few days afterward just for attention.

“And to think,” Gabi said through giggles, “Sofía used to roast Cubarsí like it was her job. Sarcasm was literally their shared love language of hatred.”

“Right?” Pedri said. “They couldn’t go two minutes without calling each other names. And now they’re dating.”

“I still don’t understand how that happened.”

“One minute she was calling him a ‘wannabe philosopher with zero emotional depth’ and the next she was holding his hand at that music fest like it was nothing.”

Gabi smirked. “Love is weird.”

“Weirder when it’s Sofía and Cubarsí.”

They sat in comfortable silence again, until Pedri added with a thoughtful grin, “And Gavi. Who would've thought he’d become the school’s ‘Prince Charming’?”

Gabi snorted. “He used to try and fight everyone. He still does.”

“He once challenged the vending machine.”

“And he’s still the loudest in every hallway.”

“But somehow the girls love it,” Pedri said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He smiles once, and half the class is writing his name on their notebooks.”

Gabi rolled her eyes fondly. “He’s got that golden retriever energy.”

“He’s literally the same hyperactive kid we grew up with, just... taller. And more dramatic.”

Pedri bumped his shoulder against hers. “And then there were the rooftop days. Our secret hideout.”

Gabi’s expression softened. “We used to skip class and just lie there with our legs stretched out under the sun.”

“Listening to those awful playlists Gavi made,” Pedri added. “He thought he had elite music taste.”

“He played Cotton Eye Joe on loop once. I almost jumped.”

“And we’d just talk crap about each other, make dumb bets. You lost that one where you had to wear two left shoes for a day.”

Gabi rolled her eyes. “And you walked around with glitter on your face like a fairy for three.”

“I didn’t even try to wash it off. It looked kinda good on me.”

She smiled at him then, and for a moment, everything else faded. No sickness, no drama—just this quiet little bubble of memory, wrapped around them like warmth.

“We really grew up together, didn’t we?” Gabi whispered. “From sneaking snacks at the park to climbing trees and arguing over who’d marry Cubarsí first—”

Pedri groaned. “I was eight and Gavi said Cubarsí looked like a prince in that stupid blazer.”

“And now we’re in high school,” she murmured. “Dealing with heartbreaks and pressure and... puking in bathrooms.”

He turned his head to look at her. “But we’re still us.”

“Yeah,” Gabi said, resting her head against his shoulder. “Still stupid. Still laughing. Still here.”

There was a pause. A soft breath between them

“You think we’ll still be like this years from now?” she asked quietly.

Pedri smiled. “If we can survive Sofía’s roundhouse kick and Gavi’s playlist, we can survive anything.”

Gabi laughed, eyes closing for a moment as she let the comfort sink in.

And in the middle of that cold bathroom, surrounded by old memories and a thousand echoes of their younger selves, they sat side by side—tangled in laughter, friendship, and a bond stitched together by chaos, courage, and an unspoken promise to never forget who they were, and who they are still becoming.

Pedri's lips curled into a soft, almost instinctive smile as his gaze lingered on Gabi. There was a warmth in his eyes—a quiet, unspoken affection he didn’t even try to hide anymore, not when it came to her. The sound of her laugh, laced with remnants of tears, felt like a melody meant just for him—sweet, familiar, and haunting most beautifully. He could play it on repeat forever and never get tired of it.

And her eyes… those star-lit eyes still shimmered, even after everything. Her face was puffy, cheeks stained with the evidence of emotion she couldn’t hold in—but to him, she had never looked more breathtaking. There was something about the way her vulnerability sat on her skin so unfiltered, so unguarded. She wasn’t trying to be perfect, and that was what made her perfect to him.

People would probably call him foolish—maybe even obsessed—for thinking she looked this beautiful while crying. But they didn’t see her the way he did. They didn’t know how magnetic she was when she let her walls fall. To Pedri, Gabi wasn’t just beautiful—she was everything. In this fragile, real moment, she was more than a muse, more than a crush. She was the kind of beautiful that didn’t fade under harsh lights or tired eyes. The kind that made him want to give up everything, even the thing he loved most—football—just to hold onto this feeling.

In that moment, Gabi wasn’t just his childhood best friend or a memory wrapped in laughter and late-night talks—she was everything. Everything he’d ever wanted. More than football, more than the trophies and roaring crowds. She was his calm, his chaos, his favourite kind of beauty. And all he could think about was how badly he wanted to make her his—not in passing, not just for a fleeting night—but fully, deeply, forever. He wanted to hold this moment between them and turn it into something permanent.

And for a second, it felt possible. Like maybe if he reached out, she’d meet him halfway.

But then came the fear. The kind that sank its claws deep into his chest. Fear of ruining what they already had—a bond so rare, so sacred, it felt almost untouchable. Their friendship was the foundation of everything, and one wrong move could shatter it beyond repair. And the truth was… he didn’t know if she felt the same. That not-knowing was the heaviest weight of all.

But all he could do was look… because loving her out loud still felt like the scariest risk of all.

Still, he didn’t want the silence to grow too loud, so he shook off the spiral of thoughts and let a playful smile tug at his lips.

“You said you wanted to do something crazy, right?” he asked, voice a little lighter, a little braver. “Wanna go join the others downstairs?”

Gabi looked up at him then, her face still tired from the tears but glowing now with something soft and familiar—something that made his chest ache in the best way.

“Of course. Why not? I’m all in,” she said with a grin, her voice steady again. “Just let me rinse my mouth first.”

─────────────────────────────────

The music hit them the moment they opened the door. The energy downstairs was electric—bass thumping through the floor, laughter echoing off the walls, bodies moving in rhythm like the night would never end. Gabi stepped into the chaos with a soft laugh, and Pedri followed, a smile already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Look who’s back!” Cubarsí called out, immediately spotting them. “Hope you’re feeling better, drama queen.”

Gabi groaned, shoving his arm lightly. “You’re so annoying.”

Sofía rushed over with worry written all over her face. “Gabi, are you okay now?”

“I’m fine,” Gabi said with a reassuring smile. “Promise.”

And then it began again—the music, the dancing, the laughter. The night wrapped them up like it was made for them.

Gavi was the first to drag Gabi toward the shots, grinning like a devil. “Four. Come on, I dare you.”

To everyone’s surprise, she accepted, laughing as she knocked them back one by one. Pedri leaned against the counter, sipping from a bottle of Coke, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “You’re all going to regret this tomorrow,” he teased.

“Oh shut up, Grandpa,” Ferran laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m just saying—hydration wins,” Pedri said, raising his Coke like it was a toast. “You’ll be thanking me when you’re all curled up on the floor tomorrow.”

Marc clapped him on the back. “You better carry us then, water boy.”

Then Mirándote came on, and something shifted.

Pedri wasn’t just standing on the sidelines anymore—he was right there in it. Dancing between Jules and Ferran, laughing with Marc, throwing his arm around Fermín as they jumped to the beat like kids at their first concert.

“Pedri! Spin me!” Gabi shouted over the music, holding her hands out.

He laughed, setting his Coke down and spinning her with a dramatic flair that made her giggle like crazy.

Sofía bumped into Pedri while weaving through the crowd, holding two cups.

“Still on your Coke streak?” she asked with a teasing smile.

Pedri held up his bottle with a shrug. “Somebody’s gotta stay sober enough to remember your bad dance moves.”

Sofía laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Please, I dance better than half of you footballers combined.”

Jules appeared out of nowhere, tugging him toward the makeshift DJ table. “Your turn, DJ Pedri!”

“Oh no, you don’t want that smoke,” Pedri joked, but he didn’t resist. He plugged in his phone and cued up a reggaetón mix that instantly brought more cheers from the crowd.

Gabi was right there too—hair flying, feet moving, face glowing with joy. And Pedri let himself dance. Really dance. With the music, with his friends, with the kind of ease that only came when he felt completely at home.

“Bro, I haven’t seen you smile this much in ages,” Cubarsí said, bumping shoulders with him mid-dance.

Pedri just grinned, eyes flicking to Gabi. “Guess tonight’s a good one.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jules added with a raised eyebrow.

“Not unless you’re thinking about pizza after this,” Pedri smirked, dodging the question playfully.

But even as he laughed and danced, surrounded by his favourite people, his gaze kept drifting back to her. Gabi. Always Gabi. Not in a way that interrupted the moment—but like she was woven into it. She was his gravity, pulling him in without even trying.

This night wasn’t about holding back or thinking too much. It was about now. About feeling alive. About friendship and freedom. And Gabi—Gabi was the heart of it all.

The kind of night they’d all remember. But for Pedri, it wasn’t the music or the Coke or even the wild dancing that would stay with him.

It was Gabi’s smile in the middle of it all—and the way, for the first time in a long while, he felt completely, undeniably free.

Meanwhile, it was a night Gabi knew she would treasure forever. Not because of the music, the shots, or the laughter that echoed through the walls, but because of Pedri. If he hadn’t convinced her to come out, she would have missed out on these unforgettable moments with the people she held closest to her heart. And maybe, just maybe, that was the most unexpected—and beautiful—part of it all.

──── ୨୧ ────　

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