#but that response in the media pen

[eterniravioli]

the difference between saying “we’ll look back at it and talk about it, maybe not today” and publicly declaring “we can remain friends only if he apologises to me” feels very…… interesting

[lnfours]

august | l.n

summary: you were never mine ; aka the one where the summer fling comes crashing down, but after an unexpected face in the media pen, lando is left questioning why he ever left.

warnings: pretend lando got a later start in formula one, summer flings, slight brothers best friend!lando, reader ends up working in the industry, kinda second chance romance vibes, fluff, hints of angst if you squint, and mentions of sexual content. i had to cut this short because it was getting super long, so if you want a part two to this make sure to let me know :) anyways, happy august, my loves 🤍 may your air be salty and the rust be on your doors.

listen | masterlist

summer: your favorite time of the year. where you’d spend your days outside, salt heavy in the air and the cool ocean breeze whisking away all your problems. your few months of peace where nothing else in the world mattered more than sitting on the beach by the ocean during the day and sitting by the cozy bonfire after the sun had finally set.

peaceful, until you had met him.

getting swept off your feet by the boy your brother had befriended was the last thing on your mind. but nonetheless, you had. his charming smile with cute dimples had you head over heels. moles charting his skin like constellations making him so much prettier. you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t breathtaking, laying on the lounge chair with his curls sitting almost perfectly against his forehead. so unaware at how your eyes danced over his figure behind your sunglasses.

a perfect example of beautiful chaos.

him and his siblings had gotten close to you and your brother, thankful for there to be people their age in the small costal town to befriend. you mostly kept to yourself and his sisters in efforts to push the crush you had quickly developed down. not wanting to start something that could never be finished. not wanting to put your heart on the line just for something to yank him from your grasps.

but after a week or so, you had caved in. getting to know him better every day. he had told you about his life back home, how he was a racer. wanting to make it to formula one, race amongst legends. you had told him about your studies in university, wanting to pursue journalism and things of that nature.

he listened with interest. being the only person who sounded interested in you talking about it, not like the others who had given quick responses when you had told them before. a change that brought a smile to your face and warmed your heart because he actually cared.

he had you opening up to him like a book, wanting nothing more than to understand the beautiful soul that stood in front of him. shared laughs and talks in the kitchen of your family’s vacation home echoing off the walls. sharing your deepest secrets, sharing stories about your youth that normally, you’d cringe about, but he found adorable.

and the two of you got closer, a bond forming between you. lingering glances and touches sending sparks through your bodies. and talks in the kitchen turned into conversations by the fire pit on nights where it’d just be the two of you. weeks of learning about each other. the weeks passed by quickly, and after the first month out of three he had known you like the back of his hand. and you had known everything there was to know about lando norris.

after a couple more weeks of subtle flirting and lingering glances, he had finally grown the courage to ask you what had been prodding at him since the moment he met you.

“can i take you out sometime?”

and like that, all your previous statements about not getting too attached, not wanting something for the sake of it being yanked away, was out the window. you met his green eyes, sparkling in the glow of the bonfire in front of you, a smile on your face as you spoke.

“sure.”

he pulled out all the stops. making reservations for the fancy restaurant downtown and bringing you flowers that had caught his eye in the shop window on the way back from his morning jog. a gesture that made you smile ear to ear and your heart beat quicken. a gesture that made you feel truly loved.

the first date turned into many more. wether it was getting dinner or ice cream in town, or heading towards the beach at sundown to watch the waves crash against the shore. the weeks carried on and you had dinner with his family, all of them ecstatic that he had found someone like you who loved their son the way they did.

you still remembered the day he had written against your skin. your stomach flat against the towel on the sand, back facing the sun that was slowly being swallowed by the ocean as the moon threatened to shine. he was propped up on his elbow, tracing shapes into your skin.

he drew with his fingers and you laughed softly, humming, “hmm, a star?”

he nodded, voice soft as he spoke again, “okay, i have one more. they’re words this time. ready?”

you hummed in approval, his index finger drawing a straight line against your spine.

i.

“i,” you said.

he nodded, writing out the next word.

love.

you furrowed your eyebrows as he drew the ‘e’, “love?”

“yeah,” he said, “last word, put them together.”

your heart squeezed against your chest as he wrote out the final word.

you.

you sat up, meeting his eyes, “you?”

he nodded again, smiling as he tucked the lose strand of hair away from your face.

“i love you.” it sounded heavenly coming from his lips.

you blinked at him, a smile finding its way to your lips, “i love you, too.”

you had pulled him closer by his neck, pressing your lips to his. his hand cupping your cheek, the two of you breaking away when the smiles had taken over your face, too wide to continue the kiss.

“c’mon,” you smiled, getting up from the towel. he followed your lead with a questioning look as you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder as the other hand grabbed your sandals. taking off towards the private entrance to the beach the lovely vacation home had come with.

“where’re you going?” he laughed, following you anyway. chasing after you with the towel in his hand.

“come find out!”

and he did, following you back up to the house. once he caught up, you were inside and up the stairs. you shut the door behind him, pulling him closer to you as your back pressed against the white wooden door.

“what’re you up to?” he smirked, letting your hands snake around his neck as his found their home on your hips.

“well, no one’s gonna be back for another couple hours,” you trailed on. he smiled, shaking his head.

“absolute minx.”

you smiled, reaching up and pressing your lips against his. he had immediately taken control, his hands moving to the back of your thighs before you understood that he wanted you to jump. he caught you with ease, never letting his lips leave yours as your legs wrapped around his torso, walking back towards your bed before he laid you down carefully.

you smiled as he climbed over you, leaving kisses against the exposed skin of your tummy in his path before his face met yours again, nose brushing against yours, “i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

your hands roamed the skin of his back as his squeezed your hips before he pulled away, breathless.

“you’re sure?” he asked softly, “i don’t want this to be something you regret.”

you nodded, reaching behind you and pulling at the ties of your bikini top, tossing it to the side. he watched you with love filled eyes, mouth agape as your head hit the pillows again. a hand coming to rest against his cheek.

“i’m sure,” you smiled, “i love you, lando.”

and after that, you’d often find yourself twisted in your bedsheets with him. your head against his bare chest as your nails drew shapes into his skin. his lips leaving soft kisses to your hairline.

after one specific night, you had fallen asleep against him when he got the call. softly moving you to your side of the bed before walking towards the connected bathroom. the call he had been desperately waiting for.

it was finally his moment. he was making it big.

“can you be here monday?”

he glanced down at the date on his phone. it was two days from now. he’d never make it unless he left now.

he glanced back into the bedroom where your sleeping figure laid, head resting against the pillow as you slept peacefully. he swallowed, immediately feeling guilty. he should wake you up.

“lando?”

“hmm?” he quickly snapped back to the phone call, “sorry, uhm, you said monday?”

“yeah, just to sign some things. do some press, show you around, that sort of thing.”

he took a deep breath, “okay, yeah. sure, sounds good. i’ll see you monday.”

“see you monday,” zak brown’s voice was warm on the other end, “safe travels.”

lando pressed the red button with shaky hands, shoving his phone into the pockets of his sweatpants as he walked back into the bedroom. he grabbed his hoodie off the end of the bed, immediately feeling regret as he looked over your peaceful state. how you were unaware that he was about to leave and never come back.

and with a gentle kiss to your forehead and a mumbled, “i love you,” to your hair, he walked out of the room. walked right out of your life just as quick as he had entered it.

when you woke up the next morning confused that he was no longer with you in your bed. you tried to call, but no answer. you were met with silence. even in your texts you were met with the ‘delivered’ at the bottom of each one. tears flowing down your cheeks as you were left wondering what you had done for him to disappear. to pretend like you were never a thing.

it wasn’t until the fall that you had seen his face again. this time on an instagram post from mclaren. announcing him as a full time driver. he wore a smile, the same floppy curls you had loved, were still messy. hitting against his forehead. he had finally got what he wanted.

and the years went on, you continued to see him pop up every so often. celebrating podium placements and achievements, finally living the life he wanted. the life he had suddenly chose that no longer included you.

he had checked in on you every so often, too. smiling softly when your face popped up on his screen as he’d scroll through your account. you had the life you wanted too, graduating from university and smiling at the camera as you held your diploma. the hard work you had put in finally paying off and meaning something.

he lost track at the amount of messages he had typed out and deleted in your dms. lost track of all the times he had wished he had told you, lost track of the different outcomes he had came up where the ending had you in it. even after convincing himself you were better off out of this lifestyle, he couldn’t help but wish you were.

the knocking on his drivers room had pulled him out of his thoughts, swiping out of your instagram account as the woman smiled sweetly in the doorway.

“they want you for media.”

he nodded, tossing his phone to the couch, tying the papaya race suit around his waist and slipping the mclaren cap back onto his curls, sporting it backwards as he followed the woman down the hallway.

“where’s oscar?”

“he’s already there,” she said sweetly, “hasn’t been there long, though. only a few minutes.”

he nodded, smiling politely at the woman before entering the media pen. she guided him to the opening, smiling before stepping to the side. he took a sip from his water bottle, smiling at the camera man who tapped your shoulder to get your attention. an apologetic smile on your face as you spoke, turning towards the fence, “sorry-“

the same green eyes met yours and the both of you stood in shock for a moment. sure, you had known you were going to bump into him eventually, but on your first day? was the media pen really lacking that many reporters?

“y/n?” he asked, voice soft as your heart hit the floor.

you swallowed, gripping your notepad a little harder as you sent him a tight lipped smile, “hi,”

“since when do you,” he stammered, tripping over his own words before taking a breath, “since when do you work for sky?”

“todays my first day, actually,” you said, a nervous smile on your face, and if he noticed, he thankfully didn’t mention it, “i see mclaren’s been treating you well.”

“y/n, can we-“

“let’s get started, yeah?” you dodged his question, glancing down at your notebook. he nodded softly in response and you motioned for your camera man to begin recording.

as you stood there asking him questions about his race, all he could think about was if you had wondered the same things he did. if you, too, laid awake at night and thought about all the different scenarios and lifetimes where the two of you ended up together. he wondered if you hated him for how he left you, without a proper goodbye.

he didn’t know it, but you could never hate him. even after all these years you couldn’t hate him with a single bone in your body. not when your heart still beats for him.

he opened his mouth to speak after you ended the interview, but it shut quickly as the woman in papaya cut off his thoughts, whisking him away to do more interviews. you watched as he left, a sad and regretful look on his face as he made his way to the next reporter.

“you alright?” your camera man asked, noticing how you chewed on your bottom lip. a nervous tick of yours that everyone seemed to have caught onto.

you nodded, straightening your posture and taking a deep breath, pushing every thought you had to the side berore smiling at the man next to you, “yep, who do we have next?”

[loves4ge]

tattoo artist!au, cw: partial nudity, mdni

choso can feel his heart stutter in his chest, bumping against his ribcage. god, who just walked in? the pen he's using to draw in his tablet clatters to the ground, though he can't be bothered to pick it up because he is too busy staring at you.

oh, you, with your lovely little dress hitching near the middle of your thigh. strappy sandals and painted nails, you have him hooked. the parlor is dimly lit and smells of ink and paper and alcohol. the kind that's used for cleaning wounds and not the one that you get drunk on with your friends on friday nights. he doesn't even hear your words and you have to repeat them.

"sorry, what did you say?" he sounds out of breath despite not doing any physical exertion. and you grin, that smile would put the sun to shame.

"that's alright. i wanted to get a tattoo but i wasn't sure if you accepted walk-ins?" you trail off towards the end in an inquiring tone. you know that they don't. it's their pinned post on social media.

he does not accept walk-ins. "sure we do, what do you have in mind?"

your eyes brighten, grinning even wider, and choso thinks he might just die and go to heaven right now. he can't stop glancing at you when you show him the designs on your phone.

"where do you want it done?" he asks at the end, opening a blank page on his tablet to finalize a design. you can't help but observe him, leaning over the counter, hair in two twin ponytails and eyeliner done to perfection.

"i was thinking my hip? like if i wore a bikini, i want the tattoo to be partially obscured by the bikini bottoms." choso thinks he may as well have short-circuited with the speed his brain is malfunctioning. you notice his delayed response and almost cooed. he's shy.

this isn't the first time a client has asked for a tattoo in a risqué position, and he's never batted an eye at nudity either. but he's entirely unsure of himself when you strip down to your panties (you ended up taking off the short dress, though you did wear a cami underneath it), and he's thinking maybe he does have a problem with nudity after all (most people call this problem an erection, but choso's not that crude).

"you're gonna have to pull it aside, or i can cut it off." he doesn't specify which part, and now your eyes widen.

swallowing thickly, you ask, "what do you mean?" you know what he means, but you sort of hope he meant something else.

"the side of your underwear, we can just cut a slit—oh," he understands what his previous sentence sounded like when he sees your face contort into disbelief and then promptly dissolve into relief.

he doesn't look at you directly, "sorry, i don't know why i said that. it's, oh god, sorry to make you uncomfort—" he's cut off by your words of understanding.

"it's my fault really. i swear i'm not uncomfortable. really, choso." oh, the money he'd pay to hear his name leave your lips again.

"…if you say so. i'll use the scissors now, if that's okay?" you nod, smiling to encourage him. god knows he needs no encouragement to cut off your panties. there's silence in the parlor except for the sound of fabric being cut. he hands you a small towel to cover whatever you need to, but you just place it to the side. you know what you're doing. choso isn't sure if you're an angel or the devil.

he makes sure his ponytails aren't loose and puts on some nitrile gloves, black like his hair. you're wondering if you should break the silence, make some small talk, put the boy out of his misery, or just let the tension simmer.

"i really like the face tattoo thing you've got going on." he snaps up to look at you, then immediately reddens. his fingers hover above the black stripe across his face.

"yeah?"

"mhm." you lift your hand, thumbing his cheek where the tattoo ends. he's still the entire time.

you'd be the death of him.

with careful hands, he sanitizes the part of your hip where the tattoo would go on. he may have taken a little bit longer than usual, his fingertips pressing into your skin with the thin layer of an alcohol wipe acting as a barrier. your skin is soft, and he wants to grip your hips more actively. without the façade of a tattooist doing his job.

you're not feeling calm anymore, and in a sudden fit of unadvised decision-making, you grab choso's wrist (this choice was not peer-reviewed by your groupchat, but at the moment you find it in yourself that you don't really care). he startles but doesn't say anything.

"i'm nervous," you murmur. he instantly softens, melts, and reaches out to grab your shoulder in a sort of platonic 'i'm there for you' way. you're not planning to be platonic.

"that's alright lovely, everybody gets nervous before tattoos. it's more common than you think. would you like water?" his voice is soothing, and the way his lips move. you know what you need. you know what would calm you down.

"i know another way we can get rid of my nerves."

"mm, how so?"

"kiss me."

he almost chokes. he looks at your dead serious expression.

he is so fucked.

[jamminvroomvroom]

die for you.

ln x driver!reader

in which you can’t stand each other, or so you say…

this took waaaay too long for me to hate it sm but she’s here! and she’s long! love this concept so much, thank you for this request. so many feels so many vibes, tell me what you think <3

loosely inspired by die for you by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, slight glimpses of she fell first, he fell harder, rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, choking, hate sex? bar fight, mentions of blood

8.3k words (oop)

it’s rare that you miss a podium, so when you do, it tastes bitter and stings like a bitch.

the car has been on fire all season long, a thing of beauty in your calculated hands. so, the string of bad luck you’re enduring, small mistakes with big consequences, it’s quite the pill to swallow.

out of the car you jump, teeth grinding hard out of frustration. you could see the commotion ahead of you, members of the papaya team celebrating their driver. your eyes roll so hard in your head that you feel a lasting ache. you side step members of your team, dodging every single person that tries to talk to you, your comms officer knowing better than to try and engage with you. you know you’re being unreasonable, it was a p5 finish! but it isn’t a podium or a win, so quite frankly, you aren’t interested, and you certainly don’t have any energy left to hear how amazingly well he had driven.

lando fucking norris.

what was once quiet disdain had grown into fully fledged hatred and you fear you’ll be violently sick if you catch a single glimpse of him on the podium. sure, he’s talented, and sure, he’s beautiful, you suppose. that doesn’t mean you have to like him. not anymore. he lives under your skin, inescapable.

you struggle through every interview in the media pen, most of which dissect your recent fall from grace, your mouth forming a hard, unimpressed line every time they mention the orange goblin and his recent streak of podiums and good luck. you wish the journos would bring up his string of women and the probable plan b receipts that went with them. that, you would love to talk about.

you drive in silence back to your hotel, leaving the track as soon as possible, and quickly find solace in your bed for the night. the idea of seeing the inside of a club makes you nauseous after your epic downfall. as your eyes are drooping, your body going limp under the thick duvet, a knock sounds from the door.

“no.” you shout flatly, but the only response you get are giggles from the hallway. for fuck sake, you mutter, groaning as you shift out from beneath the covers and trail apprehensively towards the door.

george and alex appear before you, and you throw your head back is exasperation.

“mate, it’s 9:30.” alex laughs, taking in your fancy attire; pyjamas that you’ve had since you were 17.

“what’s your point?” you croak, glaring up at your obnoxiously tall friend.

“why aren’t you getting ready to go out?” george questions, leaning against the doorframe. he, too, was obnoxiously tall, you thought, feeling the strain in your neck as you move your glare onto him.

“if it wasn’t obvious, i’m not going.” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought that was clear after i ignored all 77 of your texts.” you smile sarcastically, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“don’t be boring! you’re an f1 driver, you’re in a cool city, you’re rich and, let’s face it,” he sasses. “you need to get laid.” alex says, like it’s the most causal thing in the world. your eyes bulge out of your head at the utterance of the last bit. george bites back laughter.

“choosing to ignore that.” you hiss. “i’m sorry but i refuse to go out and celebrate that arrogant, whiny little bitch.”

they both know exactly who you’re talking about.

you and lando have simply never seen eye to eye. your karting days were spent pushing one another off the track or into a muddy puddle if things got a bit heated out of the car. sure, olive branches were extended, and maybe adolescent feelings were secretly harboured, but he never gave you any reason to tell him that. you’d grown out of the childish violence when you graduated into formula 1, but you hadn’t been able to shake the rage he made you feel.

it didn’t matter how many dinners you attended where others had conspired and forced you to sit next to each other. it didn’t matter how many times you turned up to play padel and were met with the same lame excuses of ‘oh, did we not mention lando would be here?’ it didn’t matter how many times you’d hugged it out on the podium while adrenaline and tensions were running high.

it didn’t matter how many times he’d watched you from across a crowded room and you’d found his eyes, watched him back. it didn’t matter how many times he’d smirked at you at the start of a race weekend, made you blush. and it certainly didn’t matter what happened last time you found yourself in a club with him.

you just don’t like him. not anymore. you sleep better at night when you lie to yourself.

~ the last time

you sink shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail; the taste of fruity liquor stains your lips and burns your throat. you feel electric, sizzling with ecstasy and the heat from the flashing lights above your head.

it’s approaching 4am and you can’t recall a time in your life where you’d felt so fucking good. the high of your first win is indescribable.

you’ve lost track of the guys, alex and george have packed it in and gone back to their hotels with their girlfriends. pierre and kika are somewhere in a corner, you’re certain. you’re pretty sure you’ve even seen lewis with his entourage and a brick wall of a bodyguard trailing behind him. and at the bar, a set of eyes watch you.

lando isn’t even listening to oscar anymore, no. he is too entranced in the way your hips move to the beat, lost in the carefree lines your body makes in the crowd. he’s itching to go to you, put his hands in places that would stay between you, him, and god, but he doesn’t think a broken nose would be good for business.

everything changes when you spin around, facing his direction. then, it begins: the same thing that happens every time you end up going out in the same group. you watch one another, pretending you’re not both achingly desperate to find out how the other tastes.

but lando is feeling bold. he tells oscar he’ll see him in the morning, and then, egged on by a moscow mule and a few too many shots, he makes his way towards you. it is instinctual, magnetic, the way he is drawn to you.

hands on your hips, lips on your neck. the song changes. you recognise the weeknd’s voice. you are disappointed in yourself but it feels too good to stop.

you know what i’m thinkin', see it in your eyes
you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry
you’re scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night
i’m scared that i’ll miss you, happens every time

the lyrics sober you up. you’re in the first taxi you can see when you finally get outside.

alone.

~

as much as that memory makes you shiver, for several different reasons, you find yourself putting on some makeup and raking through your suitcase for something to wear. george and alex are waiting downstairs for you at the bar, and when you finally make your way down there, they have a martini waiting for you. they watch in impressed horror as the alcohol disappears from the glass mere seconds after it touches your lips.

“let’s get this over with.” you sigh.

-

it could have been worse, you suppose.

the club is packed, hundreds of faces blurring into nothing. you feel better knowing that there is a one in a million chance of running into lando.

you’re tucked into a booth with alex and george, carmen and lily, a few faces you can’t quite place, and charles and pierre. you’d conspired to sit on the outside, prepared to make a quick getaway at the first sign of tension.

you’d been in a state of fight or flight since your last run in, nails bitten down every time you thought about his hands on you, how good they felt on you. it scared you more than anything had in a long time, how your desire had festered.

you go to take a swig from your glass, only to find it empty, aside from a few sad ice cubes. you watch jealously as they melt into nothing, wishing they would take you with them, shoving your glass across the smooth table top when your frustration boils over.

you’re on edge, ridiculously afraid of bumping into a curly haired man. it wasn’t him you were scared of, per-say, more yourself. god knows what you’d do if you felt those warm, calloused hands pulling your hips into his again.

“you okay?” pierre calls across the table. he and charles abandon their conversation as soon as your glass goes flying towards their side of the table. you’re broken out of your trance, caught off guard like a deer in headlights.

“tired.” you reply, shrugging it off like it was nothing. it’s clear immediately that they don’t buy it.

“she’s hiding.” alex chimes in from beside you, and your elbow goes straight into his ribs. he feigns pain for a moment, cackling at your reaction.

“from who?” charles inquires. you roll your eyes, blush spreading down your neck already. you hate everything about the conversation, and yet you need to see where it goes. you’d planned your escape, and now was the opportune time to make it, but you seem to be glued to the leather of the booth.

“lando.” george smirks into his drink as a he speaks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“oh yeah, we know all about that.” pierre laughs, his head tipping back in amusement.

“what?” you spit, eyes wide with confusion.

“don’t think me and kika didn’t see you two before the summer break. that night you won? we thought you’d finally cave.” pierre explains, his grin conveying pure evil.

several “what?!”’s sound from around the table, and now all eyes are on you.

“nothing even happened.” you mumble. “he came over to me and then i left.” you look away, twisting your hair around your finger. you are sweating.

“you looked like you were minutes away from being arrested for public indecency.” pierre smirks. you almost launch yourself across the table, intent on strangling him, and then perhaps throwing yourself in front of an oncoming uber outside.

“well, well, well. i fucking knew it.” alex is giggling beside you.

“come on guys, leave the poor girl alone.” lily winks at you, but even she has a twinkle in her eye. “there’s obviously feelings there.” and just like that she betrays you. her sympathetic smile doesn’t make you forgive her.

“i think you guys just need to get it out of your system,” charles starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “just fuck.” he waves his hand, like it was the most causal thing in the world.

the table erupts in laughter and you decide that you are well past the end of your tether. you shake your head, declaring that you need another drink, or ten, and strut away from the table. a chorus of ‘love you’-s and ‘get some’-s sound from behind you. you reply simply by raising your middle finger and refusing to look back.

the bar is in sight, just about in your reach when your evening goes from mildly bad to aggressively worse.

“fuck sake.” you sigh.

“and good evening to you too.” lando replies. he’s blocking your path, materialising before you out of nowhere.

“get out of my way, lan.” it sounds like you’re pleading and you cringe internally.

“don’t you wanna congratulate me?” he feigns a pout and you almost swing for him.

“no, not particularly.” you say dryly. “all i want is a drink, so if you’d just…” you gesture for him to move. of course, he doesn’t.

“haven’t seen you in a while, though. thought maybe you’d missed me.” he takes a step closer; goosebumps litter your bare skin.

“you are such an entitled prick.” you spit, moving to step around him but he catches you, gripping your wrists and pulling you in. you feel heat radiating off of him, expensive cologne overwhelming you in the best possible way.

“and you, honey, are such a fucking brat. but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?” lando whispers, cool breath hitting your face, minty, laced with champagne and cockiness. you almost fold, thighs clenching so tight that he must have noticed.

“move.” you grumble through gritted teeth. you are crumbling painfully, embarrassingly fast.

“make me.” your underwear is damp, but you are fuming.

“don’t fucking test me, lando.” something in your chest sets on fire and you’re over him and his bullshit, and the way he makes you feel.

“i know you want me.” he dips his forehead down to rest gently against yours. his grip on your wrists tightens, thumbs swirling circles into the flesh, right where your pulse is.

you lean in, mere centimetres separating your lips. his eyes darken, the assumption of victory over you tugs his lips into a smirk.

“all i want is my fucking drink. come find me when you’ve managed to navigate your gigantic, stupid head out of your arse.” you catch him off guard, wriggling out of his grip. you’re shaking when you walk away, thoughts of doing things with him that would get you both fired invading your foggy brain.

you try to disappear into the crowd, finally breathe a sigh of relief when your hands meet the cool surface of the bar. you order your drink, putting it on your tab and drum your nails against the marble top. you’re lost in your own world, watching as concoctions are mixed, as shots are downed. you finally feel at ease, until your evening takes yet another turn, one that was somehow even more unfortunate than all the others.

your attention is rudely stolen by the guy stood next to you.

“can i get that for you?” the random man speaks, in a way that he must of assumed was smooth. slimy, you think. he’s gesturing to your drink, clearly having watched you add it to your bill already.

“no, thank you. it’s already paid for.” you smile politely, turning on your heel. it seems he wasn’t quite done with you. you feel a clammy hand tug on yours, a wave of sickness washes over you.

lando’s hands are bigger, warmer, softer.

“where are you rushing off to, babe?” the sweaty man asks, his tone fake in a way that makes you uneasy.

“i need to get back to my friends.” you try to pull your hand free, but he won’t budge. “can you let go-“

“i can show you a good time. always thought you were kinda hot.” you’re panicking now, looking every which way for a familiar face, a security guard, anyone.

“take your hands off of me.” you snap, still wrestling to pull yourself free.

“one night with me would pull you out of that little slump you’re in.” he leers. you visibly gag, white hot rage blurs your vision.

“okay you piece of shi-“ you snarl, interrupted by a flash of curls and tanned skin.

“she told you to let go.” lando stands in front of you protectively, rigid and furious. you’ve never been so happy to see his annoying(ly beautiful) face.

“and what are you gonna do?”

“hands. off.” lando stands up even straighter, looking bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

“okay, mate, whatever.” the stranger rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away.

lando turns to you, opening his mouth to speak when…

“keep that stuck up bitch all to yourself.”

and then, everything goes to shit.

lando whips around, fists are flying, the stranger topples to the ground, amassed to nothing in the face of the mclaren drivers rage. lando doesn’t stop there, makes sure he is sufficiently dealt with, flat on his back on the sticky floor. you don’t know what to do, calling out for lando, begging him to stop, as satisfied as you are. lando hears your shouts, pulled out of the chaos and back to you. always back to you.

“are you okay?” he has his hands on your face searching for any remaining fear or upset. a crowd has formed and you see alex and george towering above the other club goers, jaws agape.

it’s as if he dj has it out for you, and you realise that the song has changed to something moodier, slower, one that gives you whiplash.

even though we're going through it
and it makes you feel alone
just know that i would die for you
baby, i would die for you

“we need to get out of here. security are coming.” you mutter, keening into his touch.

“i have a car outside.”

“well, let’s use it then.”

-

you can’t help but stroke over his knuckles mindlessly in the car, an unlikely comfortable silence settling between you. they look raw, cracked slightly and you have an overwhelming desire to kiss them better. your head is fuzzy, and you’re unsettled with confusion, but at the same time, you feel lighter.

“why did you do that?” you murmur, disrupting the quiet that has settled over the backseat of the town car, the question burning desperately on your tongue.

lando turns his head so that he’s looking down at you, his good hand comes up to cup your jaw softly.

“no one can talk to you like that.” he’s staring so deeply into your eyes and you almost squirm at the intensity. you feel exposed, bare.

“but why did you step in before that?” you reiterate shakily. lando hums in understanding.

“i’ve known you since we were 10 years old. i know when you’re scared.” he whispers, breath dusting your cheeks. you almost lean in, then, something about his words pull you even closer towards him. you feel warmth creeping over your chest, sinking into the pit of your belly.

“we’ve arrived.” the driver calls from the front, signalling that you need to get out of the car. it was like an elastic band had snapped, and you spring away from lando, scrambling to undo your seat belt, the moment of weakness long gone.

you sneak into the lobby, on the lookout for any angry PR teams or incognito photographers that are scoping for their next pay check. the coast seems clear, so you manage to scurry discreetly into the elevator. you hit the button for the third floor.

“can you hit the button for five?” lando asks, leaning against the opposite wall.

“you’re coming to my room.” you state, offering no other explanation, even when he raises his eyebrows.

the ding of the lift has lando pushing himself off of the mirrored wall, trailing behind you into the corridor. the lights are low as he follows you to your door, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. he watches in anticipation as you rifle through your small bag for your keycard. the green light gives you the go ahead to open the door, and he awkwardly follows you inside, peering around the room.

you notice the slight apprehension in his features, eyes blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline. they seem to sparkle more than you’d seen in a while, a hazel-y blue twisting with secrets and unspoken thoughts.

“let me find my first aid kit.” you tell him. you guide him towards the foot of your bed, gesture for him to sit. “make yourself comfortable.”

“you don’t need to do this.” lando replies, sitting down anyway.

“and you didn’t need to get between me and that dickhead but here we are.”

your words elicit a low chuckle from him, and you’re glad you have your back to him while you dig through your suitcase. he can’t see your smile at the wholesome sound, and he doesn’t need to.

random pieces of clothing fall out of the bag as you rummage through it, your attention taken up completely by your mission to find the small box. you don’t notice the pile of garments littering the floor.

“wow, didn’t take you for that kinda girl.” lando teases. your cheeks flame red when you catch sight of the cherry red thong that has managed to get caught in the wheel of your suitcase.

“shut up, i’m helping you.” you grumble, balling up the lace and burying it at the bottom of the case.

“why is it ferrari coloured? something you wanna tell me? do you think charles is… foxy? or is it fred? oh, i bet it’s fred, isn’t it.” he’s laughing now, loud and boisterous, and if it wasn’t for the butterflies erupting in your belly at the sound, you would have throttled him.

“i’ll leave you to bleed out.” you tease back, pointing at the dried up blood across his knuckles.

“of course, i am in urgent need of medical attention!” he exclaims sarcastically, clutching his hand. you roll your eyes.

“you know where the door is.” you stand from the floor, carrying a little square antiseptic wipe with you.

“yeah, i do. feel like staying now, though. i’m just so comfy.”

and with that, he throws himself back on your bed, closing his eyes as he sinks into the mattress.

you stare at him for a second, noticing the way his eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks, his tanned, thick neck peeks out from in between the undone buttons of his dress shirt. you exhale shakily, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

“give me your hand.” you instruct him, tearing the packet open and unfolding the wipe.

“romantic.” lando snarks. you shove his shoulder in response. he holds his hand out.

“whatever.” you sigh, avoiding eye contact as you run the wipe over his knuckles. you can see how they are already tinged purple, wincing at the idea that it is your fault.

“what is it?” lando asks, noticing.

you don’t respond. this proximity is odd, you can’t quite tell yet if you like it. what you do know is that you certainly don’t know how to handle him now that the alcohol is wearing off and you’re left tending to the wounds of a man that you could have sworn you didn’t like.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be? we’re going back to the silent treatment again?” lando scoffs.

“don’t know what to say.” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on every line and indent of his knuckles.

“why do you hate me so much?”

“i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” he scoffs.

“i don’t think about you enough to hate you.” you lie. it’s cruel. he winces.

that shuts him up.

“i’m gonna go. thanks for this.” lando waves his hand and you feel a wave of guilt hit.

“no, fuck, i’m sorry.” you apologise, bowing your head. “stay.”

“i’ll stay if you tell me why you hate me.”

“i’ve never hated you, lan. haven’t always particularly liked you but i never, ever hated you.”

“okay.”

that’s all it takes for him to flop back onto the bed. some unexplainable instinct that you loathe has you crawling onto the bed beside him. you wrap your arms around your pillow, watching him watch you.

“i used to have such a big crush on you, you know.” lando says. you stare at him blankly.

“what?”

“yep. i think i was about 15. you were the first girl i ever really liked that way.” he smiles, recalling the memory. “it kinda sucked because i knew you wouldn’t even look at me twice but it’s funny thinking back to that time.”

~ 15

he watches the way her hair gets caught in the breeze as she takes off her helmet. two messy braids are shaken free, and his heart skips a beat or two, or seven, when she turns around with the biggest grin on her face.

she’s just won a race, another one, and he’d be so jealous if it wasn’t her.

he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. george and alex go over to her, congratulating her, hugging her. he wishes he could do that. he definitely can’t.

she doesn’t see him, the only times that she does are when they argue, when they push eachother off the track and scream at one another across a gravel trap. the times when she plants her pointed finger in his chest and calls him dirty, the times he gets heated and calls her something he doesn’t mean under his breath. and she always hears him. always. he watches her eyes pool with tears every single time.

he wants her, in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. he’s never felt like this, wonders how he can make it go away. she hates him. she must.

he can never have her, so why even try?

~

“i had no idea you ever felt that way.” you’re quite shocked, really. you knew that you had this intensely charged sexual tension between you now, but you had failed to realise how far back this all went.

mutually, at least.

“i’d say i’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it.” his smile changes slightly. it was now a sad smile, one that conveys disappointment in himself, and that you hated to see. it reminds you of the one you’ve gotten used to seeing on your social media feed after he’d had a shitty race.

you sigh, bracing yourself for what you are about to say.

“you’re not the only one who hid it.” you raise an eyebrow, your face says ‘guilty!’

“no?” lando’s eyes widen at your revelation.

“i think we were 13. you gave me half a cookie to apologise for pushing me off track.” you smile coyly. “it’s kinda sad but 13 year old me died inside.” you laugh.

“so, we’ve both… liked each other.” lando assesses. you nod.

“when did you stop?” you inquire, scanning his face. you take in each detail, each individual freckle, the curve of his lips. he seems closer, all of the sudden, and that’s when you realise you’ve closed the space between you. lando is within reach now, it would have been so, so incredibly easy to shift even closer still; it was like you were in his gravitational field, reeled in by pretty, pretty eyes.

“who said i stopped?”

“oh.” you breathe.

~ 13

he snaps the crumbly biscuit between his fingers, trails towards her awkwardly. he feels bad, feels a strange pang in his chest that he doesn’t recognise.

he finds her around the back of her parents car, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, pouting hard. he thinks she’s cute.

“why are you here?” she whines.

“this is for you. i know it doesn’t make up for the race. i didn’t mean to take you out, i swear.”

he sounds panicked, sincere. her tummy turns funny.

he’s holding out a cookie, the children’s equivalent of an olive branch.

her face softens. she accepts it. they bite into their cookies at the same time.

it’s not the worst day in the world anymore.

~

messy kisses and soft whispers lull you to sleep.

his nose bumps yours every time your lips meet, gentle and plush.

you feel delicate in his arms, treasured. his lips press gently to your hairline. he’s different, softer than you’ve seen him since you were teenagers splitting cookies.

it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl into his side, mould together until you’re part of him, and drift off.

-

the heat wakes you up.

you stir, eyes fluttering open, searching for the source of the onslaught of warmth. it clicks quickly, and you realise that you hadn’t dreamt the events of the night before.

lando is in your bed.

lando had protected you.

lando had wanted you since you were stupid kids who didn’t know any better.

he is the heater that had woken you up, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re far too hot. you curl back into his side, head rests on his chest. it rises and falls softly, his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear. you are jealous of how pretty he looks when he’s asleep, relaxed and infatuating. you lose track of time, gazing up at him.

a sharp pain in your side makes you groan. you had fallen asleep in your dress, lando in his jeans and his shirt, and now you’re paying for it, your fingers searching for the zipper that was now digging into your side. your movements draw him out of his slumber, and when you look back at him, he’s watching you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“you okay?” lando croaks, his voice deep and sleepy. it sends shockwaves through you.

“mhm. how did you sleep?” you ask, mindlessly running your hand over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. a smile breaks out across his face, eyes fluttering shut once more.

“really fucking well.” he laughs, almost in disbelief.

“yeah, me too.” you smile at him, shy.

“what’s bothering you?”

“well, a human heater woke me up and now this fucking zipper is killing me.” you joke. it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird.

“i am pretty hot i guess.”

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes and stand from the bed.

lando sits up, resting on his elbows. his eyes follow you as you walk around the room. you take a bottle of water, drinking half of it before passing it to him. his lips wrap around the bottle and you have to turn away, the ache between your legs that you’d been fighting for months rearing it’s irritating head. you clear your throat, composing yourself.

“need to get this dress off.”

lando pulls himself off of the mattress, stalking towards you. you stop in your tracks and he meets you at the foot of the bed. his hands find your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin in little circles, and then kisses you deeper than he did last night.

it’s impossible not to melt into him, hands running over his chest, his shoulders, and finally finding solace tangled in his curls. if someone told you the morning before that you’d wake up in lando’s arms, you would have cackled, urged them to seek medical attention, and probably spat in their face. how things change.

“i think you should keep it on, look so pretty.” lando breathes, staring down at you. you blush hard, leaning into him.

“but i’m uncomfortable.” you grin coyly. and then, a surge of confidence has you whispering: “i’ll let you take it off if you want.”

“let me make you comfortable first.” lando murmurs, dipping his head down until it rests in the crook of your neck. “want me to get you nice and comfortable, baby?” he kisses up your neck.

you cave, finally.

it takes him all of thirty seconds to have you spread out on his face, laying himself down on the mattress and pulling you on top of him so that you’re hovering over his lips. he mouthes at your panties for a second, getting his first taste of you, and then he drags them to the side, clearing a path. his tongue laves over your cunt, groaning as soon as he gets a proper taste.

your dress fans out over your thighs, and lando has disappeared beneath the fabric. you can tell he’s there, though, by the strong hands gripping onto your thighs, the tuft of curls peeking out, and the feeling of his nose bumping your clit as he buries his face deeper and deeper between your folds.

“lando.” you cry, throwing your head back. the straps of your dress are slipping down your arms, skimming your goosebump ridden skin. he just groans into your pussy in response, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth, backwards and forwards until you’re grinding down on his willing tongue. you reach down blindly, grabbing one of his hands where it rests on your thigh, and your other threads through his hair, gripping tight as you revel in the pleasure.

lando pulls your clit between his teeth, grazing over the bud and you’re jolting, writhing above him. you feel like you’re going to die, heat pricking all over your skin, your tummy tight from the building orgasm. he’s so eager, sliding his entire face through your slippery folds, obscene sounds falling from his lips that ricochet through your quivering body.

tears prick your eyes when you finally let go, slumping forwards from the overwhelming sensation taking over every single nerve. he lifts you off of him, laying you back on the bed as you come down from your high.

“you okay, baby?” he coos, brushing sweat dampened hair from your eyes.

his lips are stained, dark pink and shiny, a mixture of enthusiasm and your slick coating them. lando scans your watery eyes, feral at how fucked out you look all because of him, and tantalisingly licks his lips.

“need you.” you moan, reaching out for him. his shirt is wrinkled where he’d slept in it and your shaky hands find the few buttons that are actually done up. you push the material off of his shoulders, pupils blown wide at the sight of his toned chest, at the feel of smooth, golden skin. you pull him in by the shoulders, swallowing him whole as you kiss him with everything you’ve got left.

lando’s hands find your thighs once more, running his hands over them to push your dress up your hips.

“wanted this for so long.” he whispers into the kiss, pulling away so that he can take the dress off of you. he looks ravenous the more he pushes the fabric up your body.

you feel vulnerable under his intense gaze, watchful eyes taking in every movement you make. you try to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists.

“let me look at you, please?” lando asks. “there you go, baby, let’s get this off, hmm?” he sits you up so that he can get it over your head, and you lay back, bare aside from your panties that he’d left in disarray.

he sucks in a breath, raking his eyes over the curve of your lips, your collarbone, the slope of your breasts. his gaze lingers there for just a second, before continuing further over your belly, the length of your legs. you want to hide away, pull him in so that he can’t look at you like this, or just dive under the duvet and stay there until you need to catch your flight.

“god, you’re so, so fucking beautiful.” he gasps, awestruck. he sounds speechless, and you feel yourself going red again.

“come here.” you whine. “needed you for so long.”

your admission seems to kick him into action, because seconds later, he’s on top of you, fingers grazing the band of your underwear while you fiddle with the button on his jeans.

“gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” lando stares you down, tone sending a shiver down your spine. you nod, batting your eyelashes. “words, my love.”

“yes, lando.” you affirm, arching into him. that’s all he needs to know, kicking his jeans away, boxers too.

“good girl. took care of me so well last night, now ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

your eyes skim his body, honing in on how hard he is. your hand finds his cock, tentative at first, stroking over it softly. it’s heavy in your hands, red and dripping already. he wants this just as bad as you do. you continue to jerk him off, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part, soft pants falling out. a low hum sounds from the back of his throat, and you wet your lips, threading your free hand through his hair.

lando opens his eyes at the sensation, gently batting your hand away. he dips down even closer, resting on one of his forearms. he lines himself up and your legs wrap around him instinctively. slowly, he pushes inside of you, his breath catching in his throat.

“fucking hell.” he groans, deep and guttural, something carnal sending shockwaves through his body. “been dreaming about all the ways i’d get to fuck you.”

your eyes roll back and you go languid in his arms, feeling every inch of him slide against your slick walls.

“want you.” you rasp, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving patterns between his taut shoulder blades as you beg for it.

“you have me, baby.” and then he kisses you, messy and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. you’re dizzy when he pulls away, sitting back slightly to change the angle. you cry out, feeling him even deeper and everything is more sensitive, warm. you roll your hips, meeting his thrusts deliciously, and he chokes out a moan as you clamp around him. “yeah, that’s it. fuck yourself like that for me.” he encourages.

this is all too much, too good. you have whiplash, physically and emotionally, eyes pooling with tears as the man you’d wanted so badly that you hated him for it rocks into you. lando hits the right spot every time he pistons his hips harder, and his nimble fingers slide up your abdomen, applying light pressure to your navel that makes you writhe.

“fucking perfect for me. gorgeous.” lando slurs, entranced by the sight of where you’re joined. he can see just how wet you are and it drives him insane, barrelling into you like a man possessed, drunk on every single way that your body responds to him.

his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading it before he traces your nipple. he watches the way it hardens at his manipulation, wetting his lips. he collapses back on top of you, sucking the bud into his mouth. you’re panting, whining beneath him as his tongue swirls over your chest, switching to the other side. you jolt, a silent scream scratching your throat when he slips his hand between your thighs, working your clit with the pad of his thumb. he’s rutting against you, grinding deeper, faster, uncontrollably.

“come on, baby. you’re so close, so tight for me.” he mutters into your skin. you nod frantically, your words lost on you. he kisses over your collarbone, the base of your throat, until he finds your lips.

“so close.” you sigh.

he stops.

“tell me you’re all mine.” lando growls, his entire demeanour changing. the tone of his voice almost finishes you off but you’re suddenly enraged. you’re too close for him to stop.

“c’mon lando.” you hiss, trying to move your hips but he has you firmly in place.

“need to hear you say it.” his hand slithers over your chest, finding a new home at the base of your throat. it makes you throb, the way his thick fingers wrap around you. slowly, his grip tightens, and you see an opportunity.

you buck your hips hard, whimpering at the sensation, but your plan works and now you hover over him. he’s still buried inside you, and you can feel him pulsing as you steal control.

“for once in your life, honey, shut the fuck up.” you smirk, mischievous in victory.

slowly, you build up your rhythm. he feels bigger like this, deeper, and you almost lose yourself in the small circles you make with your hips.

“knew you’d be like this. you liked giving yourself to me but i just knew you’d need to take back control.” lando teases. his hand is back around your neck, squeezing slowly, and you grind frantically, dizzy for him. “i was right last night, wasn’t i, baby? pretending to be my good girl when really,” he pulls you down so that you’re chest to chest. “you’re just a fucking brat.”

lando holds you close as he fucks up into you, feeling the way you go limp on top of him as the pleasure washes over you like a million electric shocks. you’re crying, tears pooling on his chest, because there is nothing you can do, nothing you want to do, but take it. he’s got you right where he wants you, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

“yeah, baby, take it how you want it.” lando commands through gritted teeth, and you move your hips in a feeble attempt to match his speed. everything is slippery, everything feels wet and flushed.

the power play, the position, the frenzy he seems to be in as he fucks you, it all has you gushing, spilling all over him. you choke out a sob, shuddering as the elastic band in your belly snaps. lando stops his thrusts, replacing them with small rolls of his hips to help you through your orgasm.

a sharp breath and a string of curses from him give you the strength to muster the last little bits of energy you have left to look up at him. you pull your head up off of his chest just in time to watch him shatter into a million little pieces.

his neck flexes as his head rolls back, sinking into the pillow, his eyes tight. swollen lips part and your name falls from between them like a prayer. you can feel him filling you up, his hands tightening their hold on your hips like he’s scared to let go, like the world will stop if he does.

the world stops anyway, because then you’re looking at each other. really looking at each other.

it only takes a second for you to be drawn in and his hands leave your hips to cup your face. his calloused hands feel your skin, stroking over rosy patches on your cheeks. it’s deathly silent all around you, apart from the breathless pants you share.

swollen lips crash hard into yours and you melt. he’s still buried so deeply inside of you, your hips digging into his, impossibly close. you’re blindly reaching for any part of him you can get your hands on, and his big hands slide down your body until they meet the small of your back. ever so carefully, he flips you onto your back, easing your spent body into the mattress.

lando collapses on top of you, mouthes at your neck for a moment, delicate kisses making your eyes flutter shut. the eye contact almost sends you into cardiac arrest as he pulls out, oh so slowly. tease.

he holds you close in the shower, fingers massaging every part of you. sex and sweat are washed away, almost lovingly. you let the water run for far too long, content in clinging to him. it’s quiet, reflective time for both of you, exactly what it needs to be. you’re both hung up on questions that need to be asked, neither one of you brave enough to take the first steps. you know one thing, and one thing only: something has changed, in a forever kind of way.

your hair is stringy, half dry, and you’re stood in your underwear. your legs are still shaky.

“your flight soon?” lando asks. he’s stood in his boxers on the other side of the room, scrunching the water out of his curls.

“yeah.” your throat feels raw.

“and you’re going back to monaco?” he’s stopped what he’s doing now, staring at you. you can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

you nod.

“fancy a sleepover?” he grins, boyish and careless. your heart falls to your feet.

you’re giggling when he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you into the freshly made bed. the sheets are on the floor by the time you finally remember you have a flight to catch.

you’re his now, you realise. he’s too beautiful for his own damn good.

-

“baby?” you hear lando call from his bedroom. you make out the faint sound of his footsteps making their way in your direction. he appears before you can even answer him, and he’s smiling softly at the sight of you bundled up in a blanket, sprawled across his couch.

“what is it?” you ask. the next thing you know he’s on top of you, peppering kisses over every single inch of skin he can get to on your face. “hey, get off, muppet.” you whine playfully, ruffling his hair.

“do you know how much i love having you here?” he murmurs. it’s endearing as fuck and you fight a foolish, dopey grin.

“you’ve mentioned once or twice…” you’ve been here since your flight touched down a week ago. you haven’t even been home to get clothes, not that you needed them in his company.

“we might have a teeny, tiny issue.” he squints, pulling a face.

“and what’s that?” you ask, your voice measuring equal parts cautious and amused.

“so, alex called…”

“oh, shit.”

“we have to go to dinner tonight.”

“we have to?”

“he’s suspicious as fuck. you do realise they’ve been plotting for us to happen for years,” you roll your eyes as if you say duh. “and also, you’ve been in monaco for a week and haven’t seen him once. oh, and also, the last time we saw them, we were running away from a fucking crime scene.” lando smiles sarcastically, and you sigh, defeated.

before you can reply, your phone is ringing somewhere beside you. you root around in your blanket searching for it and when you find it:

“son of a bitch.” you exclaim, showing lando the caller ID. alex is one persistent motherfucker.

“hey girl.” alex singsongs down the phone before you can even say hello.

“hello to you too.” you can hear the fear in your own voice.

“dinner. tonight. although, i’m sure lando already told you.” alex teases.

“why would lando have told me? what?” you choke. lando slaps his hand over his face. your voice has gone up several octaves. not suspicious at all.

“so, you’re at home? you haven’t been at his place since last week?” the playful interrogation begins.

“why would i be with lando?” you try and feign disgust at the implication. it does not work.

“because you hate fucked after he beat up that perv? i have to say, i didn’t think he had it in him but he’s been in love with you since he was like, ten, so, you know-”

“bye alex.”’

“you’re not denying it-“

“bye alex!”

you’re flaming red when you throw the phone to the other end of the sofa. lando, as on brand as ever, is cackling into a pillow.

“he is such a fucking shit stirrer.” you bury your face in your hands, slumping back into the fuzzy cushions.

“well, he’s right about one thing.” lando trails off. suddenly he’s looking anywhere but you and you see him gulp, hard, swallowing his words, like he’s too afraid to bare his soul.

“huh?” you ask gently, sitting up to reach out for him. “what’s wrong?”

“we need to get ready for dinner. that’s what he’s right about.” lando says, standing from the sofa and walking towards his room. you’re suspicious, watching him go with furrowed eyebrows.

-

“lando, behave! you’re the one making me go to this dinner.” you squeal, batting his restless hands away.

you’ve made it as far as the elevator before he pounces on you, caging you in against the metal walls.

“but you look so good, can’t help myself.” he mutters between kisses on your neck, pressing himself even further into you.

the hand that finds it’s way between your legs, exploring beyond the hem of your skirt, is the one that makes you press the button for his floor. why have plans when you can have sex?

he gets through the door to his apartment at lighting speed and carries you all the way to his bed.

when you’re sweating and breathless a good hour later, half of the bedding on the floor with your clothes, you realise you never cancelled your plans.

lando is drawing shapes into the bare skin of your arm, kissing over your shoulder as he does so. his eyes are dropping from all of the over-exertion and you want to count each and every freckle on his face while he falls asleep. he’s cute like this, soft and yours.

and idea comes to your mind, and as if he can see the lightbulb, lando half raises an eyebrow at you. you giggle, somewhat evilly perhaps, and scramble for your phone on the beside table.

“what’re you doing?” lando groans, pouting as his outstretched arms try to find you.

“getting even.” you state.

with the phone in your clutches, you roll back over towards him, holding the camera above you both. he hears the shutter sound as you snap the picture, and peers closer to see the screen. when he sees the groupchat open, he quickly understands what you’re plotting.

“may i?” you ask for his consent.

“are you kidding? go for it. that’ll shut them up.” he laughs sleepily, muttering something about how this is the most lando thing you’ve ever done

FROM: you

TO: the groupchat

1 image attached

couldn’t make dinner. something came up xx

“alex always thinks he’s right, this’ll teach him for being such a little shit.” you flop back into bed even more satisfied than you were before.

you hear lando inhale shakily beside you.

“he is right sometimes you know.” he repeats his earlier words.

you hold your breath. his eyes say so many things that are too delicate to be spoken yet.

“like… like what he said on the phone?” your voice quivers with anticipation, fear. your heart is thunderous, hammering away like it wants to escape the clutches of its cage.

“yeah. i-“ he stops himself. you don’t need him to finish, you know which two words follow. they can follow in good time, you both know it.

“me too, lando.” you coo.

he’s beaming, eyes half shut. you watch as he falls asleep, the both of you ignoring the way your phones are vibrating so aggressively that they might buzz their way off of the night stand. you lose count of his freckles, but it doesn’t matter.

you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

-

let me know what you think :D

-

taglist

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[fastandcarlos]

My Worst Nightmare : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

Your eyes went wide as you watched it all unfold.

Your heart beat faster than it ever had done before.

The feeling of your hand gripping his arm made Max jump beside you as you watched Lando’s front wheel clip against the front wheel of Charles. As soon as the incident happened you saw an aggression in Lando that you had never seen before, biting your bottom lip as he edges closer and closer to Charles’ car, almost inviting himself to get into some sort of incident against the other driver.

“What’s he playing at?” Max hissed next to you, eyes rolling at what he was seeing from his best friend.

“It’s like he wants to go crashing into the barriers,” you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief.

You could picture Lando getting frustrated in his car, eyes rolling, mouth tutting.

But he was the reason that he almost crashed out of the race. The only person responsible for any potential accident was Lando. The man who promised you every single race that he’d drive safe and that things would be okay.

Max’s eyes stay on you for a few moments as you carry on watching the race. He knows you worry and fret, but he could see frustration in you too. Frustration that your boyfriend was willing to crash so dangerously just because his front wheel got clipped, something you’d seen happen so easily in races plenty of times.

You hoped that would be enough to make him stop.

Lando kept on pushing though, every opportunity he tested the water, keen to try and scrape through whenever even a millimetre presented itself. You struggled to watch after a while, terrified that you’d ultimately end up watching your boyfriend get seriously hurt.

You’d never felt so relieved when the race was finished, watching Lando drive back into the garage in fifth. When he climbed out the car he expected to see you ready to enter his open arms, but instead you remained rather standoffish with him, shooting him a glare.

“Well done,” you told him, your face flat, taking him by surprise.

“Try and be happy for me, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you coldly sighed, “can’t help it.”

Lando walks across and presses a kiss against your cheek before being pulled back to get weighed. He wanted to play dumb, but Lando knew just from the tone of your voice why you were upset with him, and truthfully, he understood why.

He kept looking at you as he finished off race proceedings, hoping for something from you. A couple of times you offered him a weak smile, but other than that you remained with Max, struggling to listen to Lando try and make excuses in the media pen for his erratic driving. Eventually Lando headed off to grab his things, leaving you and Max alone.

Max poked your side to get your attention, “try not to be too hard on him tonight.”

“But he was being stupid Max.”

“I know, but I can tell he regrets it.”

A sign came from you, “what was he thinking?”

“Probably just adrenaline,” Max tried to defend, “maybe he saw something there that we missed.”

The ride home was pretty silent between the two of you, Lando tried to make small talk but you were still unimpressed. You headed back to your hotel room, Lando following just behind to give you enough space. As soon as the door shut and you were all alone, he finally cleared his throat.

He waited for you to sit down, throwing himself down beside you before you could protest.

“You might as well say what you want to say.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Lando chuckled, “I already knew that.”

You shot a glare across at him.

Lando’s attempts to lighten the mood fell flat as you silently scolded him. The tight corners and near misses were part of the job, but what happened today took all of that to the extreme.

“I wasn’t going to crash,” Lando told you, reading your mind and figuring what you were thinking.

“How do you know that?”

“We’re professionals,” he reminded you.

Your eyes rolled as he tried to brush off what you were saying, trying his best to reassure you in his own Lando way.

After a few moments Lando shuffled across the sofa, resting his hand against your thigh. “Maybe things were a little too close for comfort today.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” you hummed, “being a pro doesn’t mean being stupid.”

“I’m sorry if I made you worry about me.”

“I thought you were going to crash,” you sighed.

“I didn’t though.”

“My point is though, you could have,” you reminded him, keeping your voice firm. “That would be my worst nightmare Lando.”

Your admission took him by surprise, his eyes soften as he looks at you. The hand that was on your thigh moved to intertwine in with your own, Lando moved even closer towards you, nudging against your side. He could hear the hurt in your voice, terrified that your worst nightmare would end up coming true.

Lando squeezes gently against your hand, whispering your name. “Perhaps I let my frustrations get the better of me today, I should’ve been more careful and not risked anything dangerous happening.”

“I don’t ever want a repeat of Vegas Lan.”

“Me too, I don’t ever set out to do anything like that,” he assured you.

You nodded in reply to him. “I don’t know what I’d do if something ever did happen.”

“Hey, let’s not think about that.”

You went to speak but your voice faltered as Lando pulled you into his side. Luckily for you, Lando knew exactly what you were trying to say to him.

“I promise that I won’t do it again,” he whispered.

A smile of relief appears on Lando’s face as the corners of your mouth slowly turn up into a smile of your own. “I hate you for scaring me like that today,” you jokingly told him.

Lando’s head shook as you hit against his chest, trying your best to sound serious through the few giggles that escaped.

“You love me really,” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss against the side of your head.

You hummed back at him, “I do, that’s why I’d hate to ever see you get hurt.”

Lando cups against the side of your face, bringing you towards him for a gentle kiss as if to remind you one more time, he really was alright.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[reidmania]

THIS IS WHAT THE DRUGS ARE FOR | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series masterlist

summary; when no one else helps spencer’s addiction after being kidnapped — you do, and you offer him help as a recovering addict yourself

warnings; mentions of kidnapping, early seasons reid, around the time of his addiction to dilauded, mentions of suicide, mentions of being shot (pass tense during a case) mentions relapsing, addiction to opioids mentions of being addicted to oxycodone, drug use, overdoses, hurt x comfort, angst, not a lot of romance but its sweet, fem reader, normal criminal minds stuff. mentions of the team completely ignoring spencers addiction bc that was messed up.

an; honestly this was difficult to write as a recovering oxycodone addict, a little bit self indulgent.. whoopsies!! but in honour of 5 years sober 🤗🤗 (i am too open with my issues on social media) this is probably horrible

‘This is what the drugs are for. Turn the lights off on the comedown I still get emotional, when I think about your old house. Hopefully, the high, works to change my mind’

You noticed quicker than you wanted to admit. It wasn’t like you could pinpoint a certain point, maybe it was when he turned back at you after standing up from the dead body of his kidnapper and you saw the way his pupils blew, something guilty behind them — maybe thats when your concern started.

You knew for certain when his focus was in and out daily. You knew everyone on the team had their suspicions, had the gut feeling that there was something more to the tiredness in Spencer’s eyes. You knew more than you wanted to admit.

Your hands twirled the pen on your fingers as your eyes stayed fixated on the male sitting in front of you, you watched as his hands came up to scratch the inside of his elbow. You knew the motion all too well, like muscle memory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard Hotch ask a question to which only Spencer reid would know the answer to. You shifted your gaze slightly as you leant back in your chair, at his lack of response and focus.

It took Hotch saying his name a second time for his gaze to pull and a small apology to leave his lips. Hotch repeated the question and you watched as it took a minute too long for Spencer Reid’s all to long ramble to start about the detail.

Normally, someone would make a teasing comment about how Spencer had to think about it, but the tension stayed among the group as they all noticed the same thing — yet no one did anything about it.

You knew the feeling well, and it made your skin itch in anger.

Rossi handed out jobs, inviting you to stay back with Spencer to help with case work. You looked at Spencer noticed his eyes dropping, it made your chest ache.

Everyone else had left leaving you and Spencer in the conference room. Your gaze stayed fixated on him as his mind fell in and out of focus. You had to admit if you didn’t know Spencer Reid as well as you did, he hid it well.

“How long?” You muttered out, as your eyes pulled away from his to skim the case. You could feel his gaze on yours and you could practically feel the heavy breath that left his mouth.

His words came out snappy, but you knew he didn’t mean it. “What?”

You looked up at him again, seeing his gaze on yours, his pupils constricted and you could practically see the way his hand was twitching not to claw at the inside of his elbow.

You knew he knew what you meant, you knew he was playing dumb. You pulled the same thing for years. If he wanted to play the game you’d play, and you would outplay him every time. “How long have you been using?”

His face twisted up, he could’ve been an actor.

“Im not.” He pushed out. His voice betrayed his face, as it went an octave higher. For someone so smart you’d think he would know how to lie — but he didn’t, not well. Not to you. He could tell you didn’t believe him from the way your eyebrow quipped. “I don’t know why you’d think that.” He added, trying to sound convincing.

You hummed, “Your pupils are constricted for one. You aren’t focusing, you are all depressed. Oh and you’re slurring.. By the way” You pointed out with your pen in your hand directed towards him. You watched as his face fell for a split second. If you weren’t paying as much attention as you were you might’ve missed it.

But you were paying attention.

“Im just tired— and I have allergies ” He lied. It made you want to laugh at the familiarity of all his lies, the same ones you remember thinking you were so smart for thinking of in the moment so many years ago.

You let out an unconvinced ‘mhm’ as you nodded your head. You watched as it dawned in his eyes that he had been called out. You wondered if maybe he enjoyed the fact that no one pointed it out, until now, until you.

“I had allergies too, for a long time” You stated out simply, playing his game, outplaying him. Your goal here wasn’t to make him feel ashamed, in any way. It was purely to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

You remembered feeling so alone.

He spluttered slightly, his eyes widened the slightest bit. “What?” He breathed out, confused because he never would’ve guessed. You knew that. You knew the person you were now was nothing like the person you were a few years prior. You hid your addiction well but you were changed as a person, and you weren’t nearly the same person you were before the addiction.

You offered him a small smile, “I know an addict when I see one Reid, I know the addiction. I know your skin feels like it’s crawling right now and your head is probably spinning because you are going through withdrawals. I know all the lies, I used them all before” You said softly as you lean your forearms against the table; your eyes softened as your gaze stayed fixated on his.

You watched the words slowly process through his head. Slowly but surely he seemed to understand. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “How- How long have you known?” He asked, his voice small, evident how confronting this conversation was for him — but he needed it. He needed to know he had someone in his corner.

“I had my suspicions for a while. I wanted to be sure before I said anything..” You muttered out as you reached across the table to take his hand in yours comfortingly, “I was waiting— hoping someone else said something, I know I’m not your first choice of a person to help you through this — but I am here” You said softly.

You weren’t not close to Spencer. You were, close in age, had similar interests and you two got along well. The childish crush you had on him remained buried in between your ribcage — that was the thing about being an addict, it made you a good actor. You could act your way through any feeling.

He almost coughed at your words, his hand tightening around yours as you gave him a supportive squeeze. “Im- Thank you. I-“ His words seemed heavy on his tongue as his head shook. “I’m glad it’s you.” He said honestly.

You offered him a soft smile. You could almost see a question weighing on his mind, “What is it spence? What do you want to ask?” You prompted him, knowing his mind was properly almost complete fog at this point, overtaken by cravings.

“What- What were you addicted to? When?” He asked, eyebrows pushed upwards as if he was trying to figure out the timeline of your addiction, it caused an uncomfortable bubble in your chest.

“I was an oxy’s girl” You said, you knew it wasn’t funny but it seemed as joking was the only way to get through talking about this no matter the unsettling feeling it left in your stomach.

You exhaled heavily, “I started taking them in college after a surgery.. and well- I got addicted, obviously.” You ran your free hand through your hair as the memory dwindled in the back of your mind. Spencer’s hand squeezed your hand softly, making a half hearted tight lipped smile line your lips.

“I was clean when I first started here.” You said, fingers fidgeting. He listened with as much focus as he could with your words — you didn’t take offence to his half out of it mind. You couldn’t. “I relapsed after I got shot and they put me on them — no one knew about my addiction and I was too embarrassed to admit it to the doctors in front of the team, I relapsed once I got out of hospital.” You stated honestly.

You remembered it clear as day, after four years sober, the day you relapsed still stayed engraved into the walls of your mind freshly. You had been shot in the shoulder on a case, you were rushed to hospital and put on oxycodone and other pain medications immediately while unconscious. When you woke up and asked what they had given you, the team was standing around your bed so all you could do was nod, the relapse happened after that.

Spencer’s hand tightened on yours as his face pulled with guilt when he realised he didn’t notice. He opened his mouth to apologise but you cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say. “It’s okay.” You said, tightening your grasp on his hand mirroring his grasp on yours. “I mastered my lies by then, after years and years of lying to everyone around me.. I knew what worked and what did it.. I did it to myself” You spoke honestly.

He chewed on his lip as his gaze adverted to the table. You held his hand tightly as you felt it twitch slightly. You knew he wanted to scratch his elbow and you knew why. Your face softened all over again.

“It’s not worth it Spence. Trust me.” You said, voice heavy with honesty and you meant it more than words could explain. “You get mean, really mean, you lose yourself more and more everyday. Its not worth losing everyone around you, its not worth losing yourself” You gaze stayed on his face even when his eyes avoided yours.

You heard the shaky breath leave his lips, and then his hand left yours as his pinched his eyelids, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes as he squeezed them shut. It made your stomach ache.

“It- Its so hard” He said quietly. You didn’t think you had ever experienced heartbreak like hearing his voice break. Any sort of pain you felt in your life didn’t quite compare to seeing him fall apart from your words.

“I know- I know” You instantly stood up from your seat as you walked around the table towards him, he stood up as well and before you could do anything his hands were around your waist, pressing his body against yours and his head into the crevice of your neck. You arms wrapped around him without a second thought.

You could feel his tears against the skin of your neck, they were hot and thick. Your hand ran across his back gently. You always thought you’d know exactly what to do if this moment ever came to be — but you didn’t.

Words died in the back of your throat as all you could do was hold the boy in your arms as he let out the quietest soft sobs that made a gut wrenching feeling settle in your bones as goosebumps ran over your skin.

“I- I want to stop — I want to- How did you stop?” He said, wiping his face as he stood up straight, arms pulled back by his side. Your heart ached and your skin burned.

You shook your head, “Do you remember when I had to take emergency leave for family emergency?” You asked, eyes looking up into his that gleamed wet and dreary. It pulled on your heart strings and uncomfortable amount,

He nodded briefly, after he took a long moment to try to recall. You nodded back, a sigh leaving your lips. “I- Um.. I overdosed.” You stated, trying to speak stronger than your voice allowed you to. “I was in hospital for two weeks, connected to machines and wires — forced to speak to someone everyday until they deemed me healthy. I didn’t tell anyone- no one knows” You continued to shake your head.

“Do not let it get to that point Spencer — Shaking on the floor and literally frothing at the mouth, feeling so cold but not even functioning enough to know what being cold is, is not want you want. I know it feels good now — but you are going to kill yourself whether you want to or not if you keep taking it.” You spoke clearly, wanting your point to be perfectly clear. It was not worth it.

He held guilt behind fogged eyes, guilt that he didn’t notice, guilt that he almost lost you — literally and he had no idea. That you were alone during the lowest point of your life and he had no idea. He allowed your words to cloud his mind for a moment as they worked to overpower the cravings that were working to controlling his system.

“i- I don’t- Im sorry.” He stuttered over his words as he failed to think of anything better to say. Your face fell briefly as you wrapped your arms around him again.

“Im here? Okay. We will do this together day by day. I am here and I’m always going to be here Spence.” You comforted non the less.

He needed it and you needed him

[ryrywrites]

Criminal Minds P Links

(divider creds: @cafekitsune)

minors, do not interact. the links below contain porn and graphic nudity. you are responsible for your own media consumption, understanding that the links below contain porn and should not be opened in public. I will block minors who interact.

A/N: The people have spoken! Criminal Minds P links has won the vote, Bridgerton came in a very close second. I was surprised that Criminal Minds won, this was so much fun to make. Spencer's links were so fucking hard to find. BTW happy early 4th of July, for those of you who celebrate! (🎵 I'm proud to be an American 🦅🇺🇸🎵) AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR 100 FOLLOWERS? WHAT THE FUCKKK???? Thank you, hotties! I'm gonna put up a new poll very soon, I'll keep you posted. Anyways, thank you, I luv you, gimme a kiss. Okay, Enjoy!

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅

❃ He loves being able to fuck your throat

❃ Spence can be such a tease

❃ First time together, you take control

❃ post-prison Reid gets aggressive when you try to take control (tw: slapping)

𝑨𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒓

❃ Rough ass pounding while watching TV after a long case

❃ He's a literal giant

❃ Hotch will punish you if he finds out you took care of yourself while he was away

❃ you're just a toy for him to use

𝑫𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒌 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏

❃ He had you shaking all night

❃ you're folded like a lawn chair while he pounds you

❃ you're so tight but you take him so well

❃ he loves it when you wear lingerie for him

𝑳𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒛

❃ Luke loves controlling missionary

❃ He's such a giver

❃ You get a call about a case but that doesn't stop Luke

❃ He thinks it's so sexy, watching you fuck yourself on his cock

𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔

❃ He'll pull your hair so hard, you'll get a migraine

❃ A shower after a long day at work gets a happy ending

❃ His stamina never runs out

❃ you're oiled up and bouncing on his cock

𝑬𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒔

❃ fucking in the office once everyone's gone home

❃ Emily loves when you pull her hair while she licks your clit

❃ She allows you to record but only this once

❃ Your first time together was so intimate and loving

𝑷𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒊𝒂

❃ You and Pen having rough sex all night

❃ You two thrive off of each other's pleasure

❃ Penelope got a tongue piercing just for this

❃ This time, Penelope wants to see how you like the strap

𝑱𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝑱𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒖

❃ JJ loves to see you like this

❃ JJ loves being on top

❃ perfect three-way between you, JJ, and Will

❃ JJ with a strap goes crazy

[giuseppe-yuki]

emotional support animal

yuki tsunoda x bunny shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.3k

warnings: a few curse words, a little violence

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you're labelled as yuki's "emotional support animal" until you become a little more than that

picture credits from pinterest :)

“ughhh!” yuki groans dramatically into the decorative pillow. as he lies face down horizontally across the sofa, he kicks his feet like a baby throwing a tantrum. you sit stool on the other side of his drivers room, sipping a sugar-free red bull, unimpressed. outside, the sun has just risen above the skyline, marking the beginning of the day.

“get up!!” you scold, “michael says you have to be out of the room and onto the track in the next ten minutes- or else!” 

face still buried in the pillow, he mutters out a response. “do i have to? when i have workouts, especially in the morning, it just ruins my whole day.” 

“um, yes?” you say incredulously. how michael italiano ever got yuki to do anything physically demanding, you would never know. “besides, you’re not even working out today- you’re just doing your track walk around red bull ring.” 

your boyfriend turns around on the sofa, hair ruffled and team kit fairly wrinkled. he stares at the ceiling for a second, as if contemplating something. suddenly, he pushes himself up off the couch and shuffles towards you. “what if… you do that bunny thing you usually do so i can carry you around the track? that way you can come with me on the track walk, and it’ll make it less boring.” 

to an outsider, it sounds like a loving boyfriend wanting to be with his girlfriend. but you knew yuki too well. “you’re only saying that so you have an excuse to leave if michael asks you to go to workout after the track walk, aren’t you?”

he pouts. “no i’m not! i swear” he says unconvincingly.

“okayyy, baby” you reply. "whatever you say." you take one last sip of your drink and turn towards the door. “let’s go.” 

by the time yuki arrived at the meeting spot with michael, you had already fallen asleep in his arms. it was quite comfortable actually, with yuki’s hand cupped protectively underneath your paws, body in loaf position, and head tucked into his side. since it was still early into the day, the heat radiating off his body felt so good against the chilly morning air. his arms rocked you gently while he walked, which only gave you more of a reason to fall asleep. 

it wasn’t until he giggled a little too hard about a joke that michael made about bottoming that you finally awoke from your slumber. 

yuki notices you blinking your sleepy eyes immediately and smiles at you in his arms. he leans forwards, gives you a kiss top off your fluffy head, and whispers into your soft ears, “fell asleep huh? And you were the one getting mad at me for trying to take a nap on the couch!” 

you nibble a little bit on his shirt to show your annoyance, but he just giggles and gives you a few pats on the head.

michael looks onto the scene with an amused look on his face. “i originally wasn’t gonna ask, but what’s up with the bunny?”

“err, well shes my…emotional support animal.” yuki says, giving you a few extra pats for emphasis. 

emotional support animal? that was a new one.

yuki carried you everywhere the rest of race weekend, after the news of his new "emotional support animal" circled around the paddock. people approached you both often, causing you to reach a point of mini stardom with the paddock staff and younger fans, with guenther steiner asking to pet you, suzie wolff wondering if she could hold you, and little girls dressed in full ferrari attire requesting a picture of you. honestly, you didn’t mind it one bit, because you just had to sit in yuki’s arms and you could get free pets and head scratches the whole day. he even brought you to the media pen to keep him company. it wasn’t until a vcarb fan event that it started getting a little rough.

“yuki, may i pet your bunny?” a sweet looking little boy says, approaching him. yuki had placed you on the ground because was mostly signing posters and taking pictures, so you hopped closer towards the boy, as if saying yes. he throws a glance at his mother, who is chatting up your boyfriend about the results that weekend, and then promptly throws himself at you. you hop back in surprise, but he has already caught you in his arms. he roughly pets you, and even yanks on your ears, hard. 

you let out a squeak of pain, and that’s when yuki immediately snatches you back from the boy’s arms. he holds you close against his chest, comforting you. “do not do that.” he chastises the boy. his mother, realizing what he has done, grabs the boy quickly, apologizes, and rushes off. 

if that boy held you for a second more, you surely would have bit his finger off, you thought to yourself. you hesitantly let others pet you, but stayed on high alert. it wouldn’t happen again, right? 

this time, a man in full vcarb attire stumbles his way towards yuki. in his hand is bloody mary, topped with a piece of celery and lemon on the rim of the glass. he’s clearly a little drunk. still, your boyfriend smiles at him kindly and offers to sign the cap that the fan is wearing. the drunk fan yanks his cap off of his head in rush to give it to him, accidentally sloshing some of his drink onto you.

are you actually kidding me right now? you think, a little pissed off. that’s gonna be so hard to get off of my fur!

you turn around, thumping your foot, and nibbles on the fan’s shoelaces as a warning. the fan immediately notices this, and roughly knocks you aside with his boot. 

your eyes widen, and you scurry back behind yuki’s feet.

yuki immediately drops his sharpie and the fan’s hat and picks you up. “bro, what the fuck? you did not just kick my bunny,” he says angrily. “she was chewing your shoelaces because you just spilled your drink all over her!” he points to the red liquid and piece of celery leaf clearly stuck to the side of your fur.

“it doesn’t matter; just sign my hat. i paid a lot of money to be here!” the fan responds, nonchalantly. “besides, its probably some stupid wild bunny that climbed out of the trees from around the circuit. why do you care anyways?”

sensing an issue, daniel, who was signing caps next to yuki, stood up and called security over. fans in line had their phones out, recording the drama that was unfolding. you shrink back into yuki’s arms, a little offended from the fan's words.

before yuki could respond, the man reaches forward and pushes him, hard. your boyfriend stumbles back a few steps, but catches himself. 

you gasp internally. oh there is no way that guy just touched my man like that! you launch yourself out of yuki’s arms and directly at the man, claws out. you scratch and bite every surface you could reach. by the time security arrived, the man had a big cut on his face, multiple bite marks and a torn up shirt. 

when news of the incident circulated around the paddock, you were rebranded as yuki’s “attack bunny.” you laughed when you found out that night, lying horizontal on the plush hotel bed on yuki. you hold out your phone to his face level, showing him the new article on your phone.

“look baby, i’m not your emotional support animal anymore; i’m now your attack bunny!” you giggle, head in his lap.

yuki laughs too, and tucks a strand of your hair behind your face. his face immediately morphs into one of concern though. “are you sure you are okay though?” he asks for the thousandth time that day. “i know i asked you after the incident but i want to make sure you are actually okay, and you don’t have any secret broken ribs or anything.”

“yes, i’m fine,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “that weirdo just scared me, that’s all. i’m pretty sure he’s the one that’s not okay after i was done with him!” 

 “okay,” yuki says, smiling down at you in his lap. “i guess now i know i don’t need security anymore- i have a reliable attack bunny to protect me!” 

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby

[snghnlvr]

9:41pm | park sunghoon

park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis: you could not handle your boyfriend’s handsomeness when he’s studying.

includes: 1.4k words | soft hours | y/n is clingy and just wanted a hug but it turned into vulnerability time | sunghoon is mad fine

extra: thank you sunghoon for tuning into your weverse live now i’m more whipped for you

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated !!

[below the cut]

you didn’t know if you were love struck by your boyfriend’s visuals or your hormones are acting upon you. 

maybe both.

usually when you’re studying at sunghoon’s room, you’re focused on your tasks with your computer in front of you, your notebook and pen on the side - ready to write any necessary information of your past lessons for your upcoming exams, and your headphone blasted on full volume to stay concentrated and get your study sessions over with so you can sleep.

since you had nothing to study for, you’re laying around sunghoon’s bed as your cuddling with his one of his pillows and scrolling down social media. 

you turned your body around and see your boyfriend’s backview which instantly made you smile, especially with how focused he is from his airpods blasting music but you can’t take him seriously when his hair has some messy strands all over. you chuckled as you put your phone down and continue to admire him from the back.

your boyfriend keeps getting more handsome everyday that it sometimes make you malfunction from his insane visuals. sometimes, you get jealous when you notice the stares and whispers from girls whenever both of you are on public. but sunghoon, doesn’t care about them, always holding your hand tightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you close, or if he’s annoyed by the comments or possessive over you, he would keep you close to him by having his hand on your waist and it would stay there until he drops you off to your house.

gosh, you really question how he’s your boyfriend.

it’s hard to resist him and you acknowledge that.

you get up from his bed, walking slowly and carefully to sneak up behind him. you glanced up as you stood behind his chair, you frowned when you realized he’s studying biology — one of your least favorite subjects to study for.

you contemplate whether or not to bother him for a little. he does need a break, right?

you took a step, standing next to his chair as your hands traveled to his hair.

you lightly massaged his hair and your eyes admired the notes that he took, making you amazed at his skills. 

sunghoon looked up at you, smiling when he sees you. he immediately put his pen down. he took a moment to swallow the scene in front of him with your side profile presented to him. he wanted to capture the moment.

“what’s up?” sunghoon asked, pausing his music from his phone and took off his airpods.

“hm?” you were distracted with his organized notes, your chin tilting to face him then your eyes following. you greeted him with a smile that made him smile even bigger.

“are you hungry? bored?” sunghoon questioned, his fingers reaching the one strand of hair that was covering your whole face. you looked at him, startled. his eyes were focused as he lightly puts your hair behind your ear. you blushed. “anything princess?”

that darn nickname.

“uh uhm..” you were at a loss of words, your heart beat quickening when he stares at you, waiting patiently for an answer. you looked away from him, it was too much for you to handle. 

“just a want a little hug..” you puffed your cheeks, eyes wandering random objects in his room to distract yourself. you confessed, embarrassed to see sunghoon witness you being clingy.

sunghoon’s eyebrows jumped, not expecting that response. but he realized that you were blushing, probably acknowleding that you were embarrassed to want a hug but sunghoon didn’t care. 

sunghoon stared at you more. your cheeks being filled with the color pink. your shy eyes tering away from his vision. nibbling your lips in nervousness. 

a smile formed on his lips, tilting his head on the side because he thinks you’re adorable — so adorable. his heart beat quickened at the sight of you.

“of course y/n.” sunghoon grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him. you gasped at the sudden action, your eyes widen when sunghoon pulled you into his lap. your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. you leaned back to see sunghoon but he stared at you with a mischevious smile and a head tilt — a smug look. 

you wanted to poke his dimple.

sunghoon stood up straighter so that you’ll be able to hug him comfortably. and you did, inhaling his signature scent of vanilla and musk. you closed your eyes to take in the smell and sunghoon’s hands were resting comfortably on your waist. you melted into his hug that was very comforting. you would sometimes say nothing and straight up hug him whenever you’re tired. sunghoon would get the message and lets you hug him until you’re done. he doesn’t mind. really.

all of your thoughts, all of your common sense flew out. your stare softens every feature of your boyfriend, his moles all over his face, his perfectly structured nose, shiny eyes with his classic black specs illuminated from the table lamp — gosh your heart is beating fast.

you leaned back, sunghoon’s eyes back to you. his attention was back to you. his eyebrows jumped as he asked, “what’s wrong?”

you felt bad for distracting him but with that stare of his, his love gaze, you couldn’t help it.

sunghoon’s grasp on you was tighter so you don’t fall. you felt getting more enchanted from your boyfriend’s beauty. you don’t know what possessed you but you removed your arms from his shoulders. your hands slowly moved up towards his face. you were tempted to poke his moles but you held back.

sunghoon’s heart beat kept getting quicker with every action from you. he was eyeing you, from your fingers coming up towards your face then back to your eyes where you seemed focused on something else. his eyes darkened, leaning back to get a better view from you especially when you were towering over him. he was starting to relax and let you do whatever you want to him. he was enjoying it.

you are so beautiful right in front of him. you looked really magical, he wonders how he’s so lucky to date a girl like you. do you know that?

you reached his glasses, slowly and carefully took them off. some of his hair strands fell down, slightly covering his eyes. 

you gulped, what a sight. your heart beat quickened at sunghoon staring hard at you. you glanced down towards his lips that were so tempting fro you to leaned down to them.

sunghoon kept staring at you, a pinkish color forming on your cheeks as he took the time to your admire your beauty.

“sorry,” you muttered lowly, trying to calm yourself down. your shy eyes tering away from his vision. nibbling your lips in nervousness when sunghoon was below you. 

sunghoon was surprised to hear you apologizing when you had nothing to apologize for. “no.” he quickly said.

you looked back at sunghoon once again, startled when his fingers slowly touched your jaw to get his attention. his thumb rubbing your cheek as you leaned into it. his grasp on your jaw wasn’t strong but strong enough when you can imagine how he is feeling by the way he was staring at you with a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“shit y/n what am i gonna do with you?” your heart quick raced when you heard his deep, raspy voice. it’s once in a blue moon to hear something come out of him and it would never fail to make you melt.

you didn’t say anything. you hand reaching to cover his hand on you jaw. you caress them. you closed your eyes for a few seconds before replying,

“love me.” you whispered, looking at him. sunghoon saw your vulnerability and he swears to god that he will. he will love you every day, every night, every second until he gives up — heck he would not give up loving you. at this point, he’s already planning wedding vows. he will not stop loving you until both of you grow old and sick of each other. 

“yes, yes i will.” sunghoon said whatever what was on top of his head. he is utterly at a loss of thoughts. he smiles when you giggled at him like it was a calming melody to him. “you make me go insane, it’s crazy y/n..” he whispers. he rubs your hip with his other hand on your waist. “even if i die, i will never stop loving you.” you think he’s being dramatic but you don’t say that.

“good.” you nibbled at your lip to prevent a big smile on your face. you leaned into him, stealing a kiss from his lips. you saw a frown from sunghoon when you pulled away. you merely saw him chasing your lips for a second as his eyes were glued on your pretty lips.

“because i will never stop loving you either.” you smiled right in front of him. sunghoon looks up with a soft stare and your stomach curls at the sight. sunghoon swears he’s the most luckiest person alive and that he will brag to every single individual on this earth to proudly say that he’s dating you. he doesn’t care about the single pals.

you felt a breath on your lips when sunghoon pulled you again for another kiss. and you pulled him closer until nothing separates the two of you.

[petpenname]

Heartache

pairing: Ellie Williams [brother's best friend] x fem reader c.w. : smoking summary: you have had your eyes on your brother's best friend and band member forever, but you'd never think she would actually talk to you? a/n: this was a submission + I'll make more parts if it gets a good response!

The air in your room hangs heavy with humidity. A slight breeze from your open window blows through, fluttering your various posters and decor hanging on your walls. And over you, sprawled across your bed, flipping through social media, you were honestly bored out of your mind. Three weeks into summer and your closest friend was away for vacation, leaving you alone… and bored.

Cycling through your socials again you get fed up with the lack of entertainment and toss your phone on the floor with an exacerbated sigh. You lay on your bed, wondering what you should do to fill the void of dopamine when the sound of music begins to fill the house. A mixture of rock, indie, and midwest emo songs rang out from your garage, conveniently positioned directly under your room. 

Your brother's band got around to practicing, you assumed. You didn’t even realize your brother was home, he had gone out earlier this morning after your parents left for work. The music got louder and you suddenly had an idea of what you wanted to do, and it wasn't staying here and listening to your brother's shitty garage band. You gather your sketchbook, some pens, headphones, and a few other things into a bag, throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You were headed to a river spot in the woods near your house. It was a commonly frequented spot by you, and your friends but not known to many. Perfect for a little seclusion and wading in cool water. 

You walk down stairs and almost instantly are hit with the strong earthy smell of smoke. You linger for a second and decide that your trip would be improved with a joint, hoping your brother would front you something, you enter the loud garage. 

Your brother and his band mates, all two of them, were unaware of your entrance. They were playing as loud as possible (maybe not as well as possible) but they were producing sound! Your brother slamming away on the drums while the guitarist, and bassist/singer were in their own worlds. 

“Hey!” you yell over the trio.

“HEY KAI!” You shout once more at your brother. Who, without skipping a beat or stopping, yells back.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” 

This got the attention of the other two band members who did stop upon seeing you standing there, amps silencing to white noise feedback. 

“Can I get a joint?” you ask.

“You got money for a joint?” Kai laughs.

“Can you just front me one?” you reply back flatly

“Why should I?” 

“If you give me one I wont tell mom you were smoking in the house again.” You counter. 

“It’s the garage so technically not the house and whatever you know they wont do anything”

“She can have one of mine?” a voice sparks up behind Kai, drawing your attention to the guitarist. A girl named Ellie. She and Kai had been longtime friends and bandmates. You barely knew anything about her other than she was in Kai’s grade, one above yours, but you knew her. You knew her eye color, her favorite flannel she wore a little too often. You knew she got a new guitar last year, and a fresh tattoo this year that shined under the garage light as she held up a joint in your direction.  

You also knew that this was one of the only times she had ever spoken to you. Not like you were around each other often but you almost felt like she would try to avoid you when she was over. Shocked, but with adrenaline pumping you took your chance, walking over to Ellie. She still had her guitar hanging around her, flannel sleeves rolled up, her hair was a bit disheveled from playing, strands falling out of her half up hair do.

She hands you the joint with a sideways smile, and her eyes glint a bit.

“Thanks, you’re so much nicer than my brother” you scoff, giving her a smile back. You turn to leave, flipping off Kai as you bound out the door, leaving the band members commotion in the garage. Not seeing Kai chuck a drumstick at Ellie who dodges it with a laugh. 

The success of getting a joint over shined the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from that look she gave you. The sun hit your face as you got outside and you were only looking forward to your solo date in the forest.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting slowly, but from where you were in the woods shade had taken over your spot. You had smoked, worked on your art, and walked along the water looking for rocks. Hanging out in the forest for a few hours always rejuvenated you in a way you couldn’t explain. But you started to get cold and decided now was a good time to head home. While packing up you realized you had pretty bad cotton mouth from the joint, so you planned to stop by the corner store. 

It wasn’t a long walk but by the time you got to the corner store it was dusk. Street lights started sparking up like stars in the night sky. You opened the glass door and walked in, perusing the aisles for any snack or drink that could satiate your munchies. You were contemplating between an iced tea or a soda when the doorbell rang as someone walked in the store. You barely noticed the bell, or the girl walking up behind you until she spoke.

“Did you enjoy your smoke?” 

You jump, previously lost in your thoughts, you turn around to see Ellie standing there. She was wearing a hoodie now, her guitar in its case strapped to her back.

“Oh my god you scared me!” you say, almost dropping the bottles in your hands.

“Sorry! Didn't mean to!” Ellie laughs, moving around you to open the fridge door next to you and grab a coke. “Funny running into you here” she says, a little awkward you note.

“I mean my house is only a few blocks away,” you laugh. 

“Mm ya i guess so, you getting both of those?” Ellie looks down at the bottles in your hand.

“Oh um, I'm getting this one.” you hold up the iced tea & go to put back the soda. Before you could think Ellie takes the iced tea from your hand and starts walking towards the front of the store.

“Hey wait!” you look at her confused.

“Oh do you want something else princess?” Ellie turns back to look at you with a smirk.

Sparks ignite in your stomach, confused but now flustered, your mind swirling. You finally get a word out, “no, just that” and Ellie turns back to walk towards the cash register. 

You follow her, not really knowing what to do or how to act. Ellie and you had barely spoken to each other before this. And now she's acting so casually around you, and what did she call you? Everything happened so fast you barely caught it but reflecting back now, did she call you princess?

Ellie pays for the two drinks and you walk out together, taking your ice tea from her once outside. 

“Thank you, you didn't have to do that” you say, unscrewing the top and taking a refreshing sip.

“Don't mention it” Ellie says, “So are you going back home now?”

“Mhm yeah, what about you?”

“Yeah I was, but it's getting dark now, i’ll walk you back home first” Ellie says with a smile. 

“Who said chivalry was dead” you joke, it was a nice gesture, as much as you were confused by Ellie’s sudden intentions you couldn’t help but feel a type of way when she looked at you. Her green eyes danced over your face like she was memorizing your features. You wondered if she always looked at you this way?

She had. Ellie for the past few years had been keeping such a distance from you because when you were around she felt her whole body tense up. She felt like she was on fire if you looked in her direction. And god help her if she tried to speak around you, she ended up tripping over her words and losing her train of thought. Truthfully, she didn't know what magical queer fairy blessed her with the confidence to talk to you today. But she had taken in a chance earlier in the garage, and when she saw you in the store she knew it wasn't a coincidence. 

The walk back to your house was short, only a few blocks. You and Ellie joke together and talk about summer plans in the meantime. Both of you slightly high still, making your balance shifty, occasionally you would brush shoulders, sending sparks down each other's spines. 

When you get to your house you stop at the walk way, a little awkwardly since you knew Ellie had been in your house before. 

“Thanks for walking me home! And buying me this, um and the joint '' you say, taking in all of Ellie’s courtesy today, a little unsure what to do with yourself.

“Any time!” Ellie says with a smile, she fidgets where she stands for a second before reaching her hand up to your face. She tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear, without breaking eye contact.

“Have a good night y/n” and with that she turns around and walks away, putting up her hood. 

She left you solidified on the sidewalk, body unmoving but nerves on fire with a simple touch. You float for the next hour or so, barely registering going into your house and up to your room. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, and why now? And why so suddenly?

Later that night you receive a notification on Instagram

* @www.ellie followed you *

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: Original Serial Adopter

When Bruce adopted Dick Grayson the Media was in a frenzy. The billionaire and playboy adopting an orphan after some kind of freak circus accident? Nobody expected it to last more than a month. The media called this action an "Act of Charity".

Then a few years later he adopted Jason Todd. Jason was much more scrappy and after a while some media started calling him the "Wayne Stray".

When he took in Tim after Jason's "accident" they called Tim a rebound. But instead of a relationship Tim was just being used to fill the void that Jason left. The media eventually called him "Jason Todd's replacement."

The media got much more suspicious when Bruce adopted Cassandra and crossed lines with their speculations that resulted in a lot of lawsuits. Though nobody in Wayne's circles believed the rumors for a second, so rumors were wiped out pretty quickly. The least offensive of these things called Bruce a "Bleeding Heart" when the media saw the scars Cassandra had.

Stephanie was never officially adopted - at least legally - but anybody who saw her with the family knew that Bruce had adopted her as a daughter. Like Cassandra she got some negative comments but they learned after the first time. "Another Wayne Joins The Manor".

When Damian came into the picture the media exploded. Comments along the lines of "The Bastard Child" which made Bruce's blood boil but kept quiet. Damian had only known violence and aggression growing up, and while his mother loved him she had exposed him to a life he didn't need to see. Bruce wasn't about to make everything worse by loosing it on the media for being jackasses.

When he fostered Duke the media exploded again. Showing the ugly side of human ignorance but Bruce and Duke were both able to ignore it (while Tim and Oracle found ways to rip every person apart who dared make a comment against them).

Bruce didn't care what they said, because at the end of the day he had children who he loved with all of his heart and was learning to do the best for. Sure, he made plenty of mistakes but he tried to learn from his mistakes.

Though the rumor about Bruce being a "Serial Adopter" was one that would be one that would never leave him.

But he had to learn it from somewhere.

A fact that was ignored until Alfred showed up back to the manor after a shopping trip with a scrawny child walking hesitantly behind him, carrying some of the groceries'. He was prime "adoption bait". Underweight, messy black hair, blue eyes that were just a bit too blue, and bruises that were in view despite the kids best attempt to cover them with his hoodie.

A large hand print bruise around his neck, scraped knuckles, and a bruise peeking out from under his hairline might as well have been ink in the pen that Bruce was going to use to sign that kids adoption papers and sign the receipt for the shovel he would buy to bury the bastards responsible.

After the groceries were put away Alfred properly introduced the kid. His name was Danny and after a series of unfortunate events while Alfred was shopping Danny had been forced to jump in and help him. Bruce thought that maybe Alfred had been in danger and never called them but when it became clear that luck just wasn't on his side and that he was never in danger for anything despite being late it made Bruce even more concerned about the teen that currently was eating his third apple as though he had never eaten anything in his life.

He stayed small, stayed silent, looking around the room anxiously. He clearly kept tabs on every window. Every door. Every exit but hardly paid any attention to the valuables. He was scared but not a thief.

Finally they have to ask about Danny's injuries. Was he safe at home? Did he have a place to stay? Why was he so thin? Did he need them to call somebody.

Danny was quiet for a long time.

"I don't have a home to go to. The bruises are fine, I'm just clumsy. I don't need a place to stay. Thanks for the food and the hospitality but... I don't feel like being kidnapped and tortured by another millionaire so if Alfred doesn't need anything else I should go."

Danny tried to get up and move, the pain obvious but before anybody could say anything else Alfred simply said.

"Sit."

Danny hesitated, then sighed and sat down again.

"You promised you would allow me to treat you before you left. I am a man of my word so as soon as you finish your apple I will bandage your wounds and you will be free to leave if you wish."

Classic Alfred trap.

One that worked flawlessly.

Fresh bandages, a full stomach, warm clean clothes and a cup of hot chocolate on the comfortable couch in the living room was all it took to lull the injured teen to sleep.

Alfred continued this trend for three more days managing to trick Danny into helping him with minor tasks around the manor, offering him another meal because he 'made too much and didn't want to waste it' and countless other things.

It wasn't until day four when Danny seemed to accept his fate and allowed them to help him. Which prompted Cass to point at Alfred.

"Original Serial Adopter."

Making the entire table laugh while Danny just looked increasingly confused.

[bluetooththereptile]

Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

[lnfours]

us. | l.n

summary: and what seemed like fate becomes "what the hell was i doin'?" ; aka time heals all wounds, so they say, but has it been long enough for it to heal the one he left?

warnings: the highly requested part two to ‘august’, use of she/her pronouns, childhood friends to lovers, second chance romance, oscar giving lando advice bc duh, pining, language, lando absolutely word vomiting when it comes to his feelings, fluff towards the end.

‘august’ | listen | masterlist

oscar piastri took pride in being more observant rather than being the life of the party. he much rather preferred to be labeled as the 'wall hugger' rather than the wild child between him and his teammate. he let lando have that role, opting on sitting on the sidelines more often than not.

but tonight, it was completely different. the aussie driver had agreed to hitting the club in monaco tonight to celebrate charles' first home win and his own second place finish. he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on with his teammate, eyeing him as he sat down in the lounge area the group had gotten for the evening. something out of the normal for the brit.

he decided to take matters into his own hands, joining his friend on the couch. lando sent a tight lipped smile to his teammate, another red flag the aussie picked up on. he wasn't sporting his usual smile, the one that beamed. one of pure joy.

"you feeling alright, mate?" oscar asked, genuinely concerned.

lando nodded in response, "'m good, just a bit tired."

he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked out at the dance floor of people. the crowd normally lando would be in the middle of, but not tonight.

"gonna make me pry it out of you or are you just gonna tell me?"

lando chuckled softly, letting out a soft sigh, "y'know that new reporter for sky who was in the media pen earlier?"

oscar furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember your name, "think so? shit, what was her name?"

"y/n," lando said and oscar nodded in agreement.

"yeah, that's it," the aussie turned back to look at his teammate, "what about her?"

"well, a few years ago, her and i kind of..." lando trailed off, leaving his teammate to raise his eyebrows.

"you two had a thing?"

lando nodded, "yeah, she had a vacation rental next to mine in the states, and one summer we just really hit it off. y'know, we went on dates and eventually it turned into something more, and... oscar, i was in love with her."

the australian was shocked, "did you tell her?"

"i did," lando nodded, swallowing before continuing, "and i was with her when i got the call that they wanted me to join the team, and i just... i fucking left. i left without waking her up and saying goodbye. the best few months of my entire life, falling in love with someone who has never made me feel more loved and appreciated, and it all went down the drain because i fucked it all up."

oscar sat in silence for a minute, processing what the brit next to him had just told him, "well, do you still love her?"

"i never stopped," lando looked over at his teammate, his expression showing the guilt he still felt for leaving that one night, "i don't think i could ever."

"have you told her?"

he shook his head, "pretty sure she hates my guts, so, no."

oscar sighed, "listen, although she has every reason to hate you, i mean, i would too, doesn't mean deep down that she does. obviously, running into you again has probably brought up all of those feelings she worked to get over, but if you really feel the way you're telling me you feel about her, and it seems like you do, you gotta fight for it. you can't just let her slip through your fingers, again, and live a miserable life. nothing's gonna come out of it if you don't work for it."

lando sat in shock at his teammate, blinking at him like a deer in headlights. he had never known oscar to be this wise when it comes to relationship advice. he truly didn't know he had it in him.

"what?" the aussie laughed, "mate, i've been with lily for five years. you think we haven't had our own fair share of ups and downs?"

"no, i'm just amazed that at your age you're so wise." lando joked back, the two of them laughing.

"yeah, whatever," oscar waved him off, "but seriously, i mean what i said."

he nodded, "i know, i just don't know when i should talk to her."

oscar shrugged, "the sooner the better. that way you stop moping around like a sad, lost puppy."

lando jokingly rolled his eyes, pulling his phone from his pocket, "shut up."

his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of messaging you, opening instagram. but, just when he went to open his messages, your profile picture caught his eye at the top of the screen. he tapped onto the story you had posted not long ago, holding it down so it wouldn't disappear as he scanned over the picture.

you were still at the track, posting a picture from one of the offices. a video from your interviews today sitting on the screen, clear that you had stayed late to finish working on them. a caption written out on the photo.

'in desperate need of another cup of coffee'

he was up on his feet before he could even think through what he was about to do. shoving his phone in his pocket as oscar smiled at him softly.

"where're you heading?"

lando turned, walking backwards away from the lounge area, shouting over the bass of the club music playing loudly through the speakers, "'m feeling like having a cup of coffee! thanks for your help, osc!"

oscar raised his glass in a cheers motion to his teammate, watching him turn around and make a beeline for the exit. lily found her way to the lounge area, sitting next to her boyfriend and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, motioning towards his teammate.

"where's he heading?"

oscar smiled, swallowing the sip of his drink, "going to get his girl."

the night breeze in the monaco air felt nice on lando's skin, a contrast against the overly warm club he had been in. he pulled his phone out once again, searching for a coffee shop that would still be open at this hour. he found one that looked promising after a few minutes of searching, putting in the directions to it and taking off in the direction.

he ignored the hammering of his heart in his chest as he carefully placed the cup in the holders of his car. was it the best idea to show up unannounced with a coffee in hand, especially when he wasn't sure how you felt about him? probably not. but after the conversation with oscar, all he could think about was how he couldn't lose you again. how even after searching for someone to fill the ache in his heart that was put there by his own doing, no one could compare to you. they couldn't ever be you, even if they tried or if he tried to make it work. it wasn't the same.

he parked the car, heading towards the building he knew all the journalists worked in. some of them still hanging around, sending lando smiles but confusion clear in their eyes as his eyes scanned the room.

"do you know where y/n is?" he asked an older man, a guy he had recognized to be your camera man from earlier. the man nodded, pointing towards the room with glass walls. he could see you in the room, your back facing the door. headphones sitting on top of your head, clearly invested in your work. he swallowed nervously, thanking the man before heading towards the room.

you hadn't noticed he entered the room until a hand placing a coffee next to you caught your attention. you slipped the headphones off, placing them on the desk before turning to see who was standing behind you.

he met your eyes, which were also laced with confusion as you spun around in your chair. he sent you a small, nervous smile. the same smile you had given him in the media pen hours ago.

"lando? what're you doing here?" you asked, "and how did you.."

he smiled softly, "saw your story."

"what is it?" you asked, moving to grab the warm cup, "i mean, i like my coffee-"

"with light cream and two and a half sugars. the pink packets, though, not the white ones."

your heart squeezed in your chest, he remembered the way you liked your coffee.

you took a sip of the warm liquid, tasting exactly the way you liked it. you took in a deep breath, meeting his green eyes once again and you swore you were slowly falling in love with him again. it was like you were back at the beach house, back at the exact moment you had realized you were in love with him.

maybe the feelings you thought had gone away after the years weren't truly gone.

your lipstick left a pretty mark on the white lid and he scanned your facial features. in the dim lighting you were still as gorgeous as the day he met you, pretty colored eyes that complimented the color of the strands of your hair. a pair of glasses sitting comfortably on your face, remembering that you only wore them when your eyes were starting to get irritated after a long day.

your voice was soft, "lando, what're you doing here?" you asked again, still confused on why he had come, "i mean, other than dropping off a coffee, which thank you for, by the way, but shouldn't you be out with the rest of the drivers? y'know, celebrating..?"

"well, i was," lando breathed, ignoring how it came out a little shaky, “but, to be honest, i just.. really want to talk to you.”

everything he rehearsed in his head during the driver over here was going out the window with each passing second. the longer he looked in your eyes the more he wished he had never walked out of that house all those years ago. the more it was eating him up inside that he let the best thing he ever had go, that he never told you why.

you sighed, pointing over your shoulder to the screen behind you, “i really have to finish this,”

“it’ll be quick,” he was almost begging. about to get on his knees if he had to, “promise.”

you nodded, your brain yelling at you for agreeing but your heart almost leaping out of your chest at the fact that he was here. standing in front of you. right now. when he could’ve been at the club, wrapped around some other girl. but he wasn’t.

“okay, just, let me grab my things.”

he nodded, biting down on his lower lip nervously as you saved your work and exited out of the editing software. you packed up everything in your bag, pushing the chair in before grabbing your coffee from the desk.

he held out his hand, “here,”

you furrowed your eyebrows in response. he motioned to the bag and you smiled softly, “oh, thanks,”

he nodded, letting you lead him out of the office. you said goodnight to the crew that was left, not batting an eye at the looks they gave you for having the, arguably, most sought out driver on the grid tailing behind you.

once you were outside, he walked next to you. matching your pace as he looked over at you, “so, uhm, how’re they treating you at sky?”

you nodded, “good,” you smiled softly, “didn’t expect i’d work in the same sport as you, to be honest.”

“you’re telling me you didn’t follow me here to make me realize i’ve been missing out all this time?” he joked and you laughed, shoving his shoulder with yours.

“shut it,”

“sorry, too soon?”

you chuckled, “forever might be too soon.”

he chuckled with you, unlocking the doors to the mclaren. he opened the passenger side door, letting you sit down in the seat. you took your bag from him and smiled, a silent thank you, before he closed the door for you and rounded the front of the car to get in on his side. he started the car, looking back over at you, "hungry?"

you hummed, "starving."

"perfect," he said, putting in the directions for a place he knew you'd like. you rubbed your lips together nervously, watching the monaco lights pass by you. the breeze was nice, something you could get used to.

you cut through the silence that fell over the two of you, speaking over the soft music he had put on for the drive, "so, what did you want to talk about?"

he looked over at you, the red of the stoplight illuminating his face. he had grown into his features, but the boyish things about him was what you loved. the way his dimples deepened the wider his smile was, the moles and freckles that littered his skin like stars, and you had noticed the small scar on the bridge of his nose. one that wasn't there years prior, but you had grown to love. you silently hoped he'd tell you the story sometime. wanting to know every detail of his life the past few years, the years you spent watching from the sidelines.

"about what happened," he said, the light turning green and his attention fixing back to the road, continuing to drive, "i feel like i owe you a very long, detailed, explanation."

you nodded as he pulled into a parking lot, "okay, yeah," you breathed out softly, "sure."

he parked the car, turning the engine off before looking back at you. you turned to face him, giving him a soft smile as he looked at you, eyes dancing around your face before he took a deep breath.

"listen, i know it's been a while and i really wouldn't blame you if you hate my guts, but i just... can't. i can't pretend that i've lived in a world i'm completely satisfied with. and i can't bring myself to fall in love with someone else because no matter what, i find myself wishing i was with you, at that stupid beach house where i first felt what love truly felt like."

you sat in silence, taking in his rambling thoughts. this conversation definitely wasn't going as well as he had rehearsed it in his head, but it was too late to turn back now. he was sitting here, spewing every emotion he's felt over the past couple of years in front of you. it's how he truly felt. no filter, no hoops to jump through, just pure emotion and longing and hints of regret, and true apologies.

"you're the first thing i think of when i wake up and the last thing i think of before i go to bed, and hell, sometimes i even find you in my dreams because for a while that was the only place where you and i co-existed. and i'm so fucking sorry for how i left you, how i packed up and moved on with my life without even considering how you would feel. it makes me sick to my stomach to think about the fact that i've fucked up the part of my life that felt normal. that felt real, and all because i was too much of a coward to tell you what was going on. too scared to drag you into all of this,"

he was still rambling and you couldn't help the way your heart hammered against your chest. the moment you had wished for all these years finally unfolding in front of your eyes and you couldn't help the tears that were starting to prick your eyes.

"but now, you're here, and i'm here, and... holy fuck i'm still so in love with you."

his throat bobbed, swallowing down the nerves as you watched him. you were speechless, unsure how to respond to everything he had just spewed to you. your heart was caught in your throat, the tears closer to spilling over after his rambling. he had said everything he was feeling and little did he know it was the same way you had been feeling too.

after every wish and journal entry wishing he'd waltz back into your life, he finally was here. sitting across from you, and now you were speechless. unable to find the words to tell him you felt the same way.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled, looking away and straight ahead of him, almost as if he was embarrassed to spring all of that onto you, "that was a lot all at once, i'm sorry-"

you leaned over the center console, grabbing his face in your hands, turning him to face you and smashing your lips against his. the tears falling down now at the feeling of having him this close again. the familiar feeling of having his lips on yours again being enough to send them dripping down and onto your shirt.

he was quick to kiss you back, as soon as the initial shock wore off. his hand moving to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as you grabbed his shirt in your fist, not wanting to let go after he had been away from you all this time.

he pulled away when he needed to catch his breath, forehead resting against yours. you smiled softly, the two of you panting breathless and in love. he brought his thumb up to your cheek, wiping away the few stray tears that were still lingering. you leaned into his touch and he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"i love you," you breathed, nose bumping his, "so much. i never stopped, even after you left."

he smiled, his voice soft, "i'll spend a lifetime making it up to you."

you shook your head, "it doesn't matter. you're here now, that's all that matters."

"can i start with dinner?" he asked, smiling softly and brushing a piece of hair from your face. you hummed and nodded, pulling away from him as he got out of the car, jogging to open your door. you smiled and placed a quick kiss to his lips, joining your hands together. he walked with you into the restaurant, and as he opened the door for you all he could think about how he was the luckiest man on earth.

there was no way he was letting you again. you were incomparable. chemical.

[fangirl-dot-com]

😈Track 4 - I Did Something Bad

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Alex was standing by the iconic bright blue garage. It was almost time for the rest of the grid to arrive for testing, but he didn’t care about that. All he cared about was George’s post from three days ago. The paddle game and its players were still a mystery to him. 

Who has George playing with? And why hadn’t he told him? 

Weren’t they supposed to be best friends? 

The Thai rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the numerous comments about how the two other players must have been Logan Sargeant and Y/n L/n. And if they were the players then that must mean that they will be the new Lamborghini drivers.  

He scoffed out loud. “As if.” 

“As if what?” a French voice sounded. Alex turned to look at his new rookie teammate. He tried to give the twenty-year-old a smile. He held up his phone, but the screen had gone dark Theo didn’t need to know that Alex was trying to find gossip like a middle-schooler. 

“Just fan theories,” he muttered, opening his phone back up and exiting out of Instagram and back to his messages. His eyes widened as he read through the chat. 

Theo’s eyebrow arched. “What’s wrong?” 

“George wants us over by the media pen. We got to go.” 

The two Williams drivers both started to quickly walk. Alex weaved through the crowds, turning back once every so often to see if Theo was still with him. For half a second, he remembered how he would just leave Logan to fend for himself. The American was often late getting to places because he didn’t know where anything was. At the time, Alex had said that he wasn’t responsible for his teammate. 

But now as he was navigating the big crowds at Bahrain, he wished he had spent a little more time with Logan, making sure that he was ok. 

However, that was in the past and Alex couldn’t waste time on it. Theo was his teammate now and Logan was off doing who-knows-what. On the inside, he was hoping to never run into the blond again. The American was just another sign of his mistakes. 

He always believed that he was the superior of the two, often questioning James as to why Logan hadn’t been replaced farther into the season like Nyck had been.

The team principal always rolled his eyes at Alex. 

“It’s because we aren’t Red Bull. We don’t want to drop Logan like Red Bull dropped you.” 

That had stung, but Alex always internally laughed. Logan was inevitably dropped by Williams, just like he had been with Red Bull. The only difference is that Alex stayed and extended his contract. Was this how Max Verstappen felt? 

Alex was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the back of someone and rammed into them.  

“Oh, hey mate.” 

Speak of the devil. 

“Hi Max,” he greeted back, rubbing his chest. “Did your back get bigger or have you always been this broad.” 

Max winced at the inuendo. Wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be a string bean like Alex or George could be. 

“Ah, Albono, no need to be jealous that Max can probably bench press more than you.”

The Dutchman internally smiled at the familiar Monegasque voice. Charles had made his way over the moment that Alex ran into Max. 

Theo was right next to Alex still, reminding Charles of a lost puppy. He didn’t understand why Alex hadn’t let Logan do that last year if the Thai was fine with it this year. The Monegasque didn’t have time to ask before Lando and Oscar joined the bunch. His green eyes flitted over to George and Lewis who were whispering to each other. 

Lando had a grin on his face as he greeted the four drivers. 

“Hello mate.” The Briton clasped Max’s hand before going around. Oscar followed in suit. 

Theo, a little nervous around the older drivers, tried to make conversation. 

“How are the cars looking?” 

Suddenly he had five pairs of eyes on him, which maybe would have made others shrink away, but the Frenchman didn’t want to appear weak. 

Oscar’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They look good. Maybe someone will win a race this year.” He poked Lando’s side, making the brunet squawk. 

“I’ll win if Max decides to DNF.” 

The group laughed a bit. Max responded with an huff. 

“For the last time Lando, you need to be faster to beat me. I won’t let you pass and if I’m behind you, I’ll just pass you again.” 

He had a cheeky grin making Lando pout. 

Charles turned back to Theo and Alex. 

“How are you two feeling about the cars?” 

The two Williams drivers perked up. They had been working hard all winter break to make upgrades. Alex would never admit, but most of the ideas had come from what Logan had said during 2023. They didn’t have a championship contending car, but they would be able to bring in some decent points. 

Theo took the opportunity to answer. 

“It looks all right. Hoping to make it into Q2 at least. We have good 1-lap pace.” 

Lando snorted. “You’ll definitely make it into Q2. I’m forecasting no crashes in Free Practice.” 

Theo’s head tilted. “How come?” 

“Because there’s not a certain driver on the grid this year. Now maybe I can win a race without having to go around his debris. ” 

“Lando you’re such a narcissist,” Max murmured, looking around hoping no one heard him. The last thing the Briton needed was another cancel culture on him. 

Lando’s green eyes widened. “What? I’m only saying the truth. Even Oscar was saying something about it this morning. Right mate? Logan will probably never put a foot in the paddock again.” 

Oscar looked down, semi-embarrassed, but also, again, he shouldn’t be worrying about Logan anymore. The Aussie looked back up. 

“Yeah, I mean, he crashed out a lot and it was all his own faults. It’d probably be better if he stayed away for a bit.” 

Max and Charles didn’t seem too certain that Oscar truly believed it. But the look in Oscar’s eyes did tell them that there was some truth. Max wanted to bring up the fact that Charles last year did crash out a few times, but he still had a seat. Charles’s hand on his back made him wait. 

It was silent for a moment before George walked up to the group. 

“The new drivers are about to walk in. Do you want to go with me to meet them?” 

Charles and Max looked at him and eagerly nodded. Oscar and Lando shrugged, but agreed to walk with George. Alex said nothing but still tagged along, which made Theo follow the older drivers. 

Time to go see who copped Logan’s driver number. 

Alex truly didn’t want to see another car with the number 2 on it that wouldn’t be Logan. It wouldn’t feel great. But Alex guessed that’s what the past was, an emotion that just gnawed on your insides until it went away with time. 

He once again ran into someone, but this time it was Lando. 

“Lando, why’d you…” 

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as his eyes were now glued to the turnstiles. 

There was no way. 

Logan grinned when his eyes landed on the small group. George, Max, and Charles were still walking toward him and you, but the other four stopped dead in their tracks. 

“Nice and sunny today?” Logan jokingly questioned as he hugged George first. You made yourself busy with greeting Max and Charles. 

You and Logan had decided to show up in the Lamborghini merchandise. Logan was in a black t-shirt but you were dressed in a Lamborghini issued pantsuit. But for the race next week, the two of you would show up in sponsor clothes. The yellow decals looks great against his black shirt. 

Charles smiled as he leaned back from the hug. “Looking a bit bee-ish today.” 

You rolled your eyes as you looked down your own suit that had bits of yellow intricately designed. 

“Charles,” you whined, “now I won’t be able to see anything else. Even our car is black and yellow.” 

You let out a huff, but the smile on your face contradicted how you were acting. Logan walked up next to you and greeted the other two, which gave you and George time to talk as well. 

“They’re still staring,” Logan murmured as he leaned in to side hug Max. 

“Let them.” 

The now group of five walked farther into the paddock. Logan had wanted to say something, or even look at the other four, but the look on their faces deterred him. With your arm linked in his, you pulled him along, also not giving him a chance to stop. 

“You don’t need them.” 

Logan nodded. 

Charles leaned closer. “They were so sure that Logan wasn’t going to come back this season. I think Lando was betting that Mick would be in the seat.” 

Your smirk grew. “Played them like a violin Logan. Making it look so easy for the rest of us.” 

Logan barely glanced back at the still stuck drivers, who turned around to watch them walk away. 

“They’re looking at me like I did something bad. But, why does it feel good?” the American male asked. His heart wanted to hurt because of how they treated him last year, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at their jaws on the floor. 

Max snorted. “Because they fucked you up last year mate.” 

George let out a gasp and put his hands over your ears. “No bad words around the children Max.” 

You quickly batted his hands away. “I’m twenty-two George. Also, why aren’t your hands over Charles ‘vanilla is the best ice cream flavor’ Leclerc’s ears instead?” 

The Ferrari-driver glared at you. “Says the woman who thinks chocolate is somehow superior.” 

The two of you started to bicker as you walked. George, Max, and Logan laughed from behind. Logan pulled out his phone and took a quick picture before opening his schedule to see who he was with for media. He quietly cursed as he looked at the names. 

George winced at the photo. “I can’t believe that they’re putting you with Lando, Oscar, and Alex.” 

A quick buzz from Max’s phone made him take it out quickly. He smiled as he showed Logan. 

“I guess they changed mine. I’m now with you and the wolves.” 

Logan tried to feel a bit better about it, but he was visibly deflating. He just hoped that he could sit next to the Dutchman without having to sit next to anyone else. 

Thankfully, when it was time, Max had saved him an end seat. It was Logan on the left, then Max, then Alex, then Lando, then Oscar. Logan hadn’t greeted any of them as he walked in, only giving Max a quick smile before they got started. He ran a hand through his hair quickly and his eyes looked over at John, his new PR manager. The older man gave him an encouraging nod as a journalist started to ask Max a question. 

To Logan’s delight, most of the questions were for Max about the RB20 and if it would be as fast as the RB19. Max went through the motions to give his most mundane answer he could muster. Logan started to pick at his fingernails as he waited for the next question, which was for him. His head rose to look at the small crowd. 

“James McHone, with News 5, question for Logan. Why did you come back to race for Lamborghini after a very unsuccessful rookie year with Williams?” 

He wanted to wince, but kept his face neutral. He raised the mic to his lips. 

“Well, uh, I thought I wasn’t done and hadn’t been able to show people what I could do. During 2023 season, I had multiple people telling me that Williams was the best I could ever get and to not throw away a good thing. But in the end, to people it seems that I did throw it away. However, now with Lamborghini and Michael, I think I can finally show that they made the wrong decision.” 

Whispers went through the crowd at his last statement, but the genuine smile on John’s face made him feel better. 

“Melany Lancy, with Circuit Noise, follow up question for Logan. Some drivers have mentioned that a possible return for you hadn’t been something that was believable and that Logan Sargeant should have never gotten into Formula 1. Thoughts?” 

Logan took a deep breath before answering. He smirked and rolled his shoulders a bit. 

“I know I’m a good driver with the right car, and Williams just didn’t have that for me. I believe that Lamborghini has everything that I require. The team has really listened to me and Y/n, my teammate, during the break. The car was designed for us. I hadn’t really heard any rumors regarding drivers saying I should have never been in Formula 1. But all I can really say is if they drop my name, I don’t own them anything. I’m just here to do my job and do it well.”

Logan wasn’t asked any more question after that, but he could see the embarrassed red start to fill in Oscar’s, Lando’s, and Alex’s faces. He hadn’t heard rumors, but he had heard them say that first hand back in Brazil. 

He was quick to stand up and leave once they got the go ahead. He had a big smile as he made his way back to the garage with Max in tow. Somehow, the Lamborghini garage was placed next to Red Bull. On the other side of the navy garage was Ferrari. 

The American could only laugh at the thought of them trying to put both Italian teams garages next to each other. Enzo Ferrari would roll in his grave and Tonino would have a fit. He glanced over to Max before lifting his hand in a wave. 

“Y/n! Lo sai che a Tonino verrebbe un infarto vedendoti nel garage rosso?” (You know that Tonino would have a heart attack seeing you in the red garage?) 

Max’s head whipped at the fluent sounding Italian that left Logan’s mouth. Logan chose to ignore and kept smiling. Even in the Ferrari garage, Charles’s eyes went wide at the sound. The Monegasque’s head turned to you waiting for an answer. 

You waved a hand down like being in the Ferrari garage wasn’t a big deal. 

“E piu come se Enzo si stesse rotolando nella tomba. Charles aveva fatto una prova del gelato per il suo negozio e ne volevo un po’” (More like Enzo is rolling in his grave. Charles had test ice cream for his shop and I wanted some.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. Max just stood there in an utter look of confusion and bewilderment. 

“Charles, hai altro da condividere?” (Charles, do you have more to share?” 

The Ferrari driver was still frozen as he listened to you converse with one of his engineers in fluent Italian. It scared him even more when he truly realized that Logan was fluent as well. He quickly shut his eyes and shook his head before answering. 

“Questi ragazzo. Sono io quello che finira presto nella tomba. Si, ne ho di piu.” (These kids. I’m the one that’s going to be in an early grave. Yes, I have more.) 

Charles beckoned them over. Logan took the lead, letting a still very confused Max follow him. He finally found his voice once he stepped into the garage. 

“Ok, but what the actual fu-” 

“Language!” you yelled, licking the spoon that was currently being used to eat more ice cream. “Charles, I think the tiramisu could use some more espresso. It’s still a bit too sweet.” 

Charles muttered something, but wrote some words down in a separate yellow notebook that had “LEC” on the front. 

Logan had found a cup of some strawberry and started to eat it. Max stood still but was handed a cup of a familiar green ice cream. He looked up at Charles with wide eyes. 

“I thought you said that this was an abomination to the ice cream society Charlie,” the Dutchman said with a smirk on his face. 

Charles went a bit red. 

“Well, you like it so…” he didn’t finish and just let the words die off. Max just hummed contently as he ate the peppermint flavored ice cream. After Charles finished writing something, he took a deep breath. 

“So, when did the two of you learn Italian?” 

Your mouth was full of ice cream so you nudged Logan. He put the spoon back in the little cup before answering. 

“Y/n and I always thought it’d be funny to learn a language so that we could talk about stuff together and not everyone would know. I wanted to learn Russian but someone couldn’t tell the difference between the vowels.” 

You let out a whine at his confession. 

“Russian also doesn’t sound as sexy as Italian.” 

Without realizing, Max hummed in agreement. Charles went bright red at that as well. 

“Anyway, so when we were in F3 together for a little bit, we started to buckle down and learn it. Took about a year and a half to master it but we did.” 

The Ferrari driver looked a bit pained as he looked down at his cup. If Logan knew Italian, what had he overheard when Charles wasn’t aware. Logan could only guess what he was feeling like right now. 

“Charles, I never overheard anything bad from you. And if I did, it was only constructive criticism. I actually listened to it a lot and it helped with COTA.” 

Logan put a hand on Charles’s shoulder to try to convey that he really didn’t care. The Monegasque was never mean or rude toward him, like some orange drivers were. And Logan thinks that’s why it hurts more. The people who were supposed to be his good friends were mean to him. And the people who he wasn’t even that close with were nicer. It made his brain hurt. 

You took this as a moment to also confess something. 

“Logan also knows Dutch.” 

The American went bright red under Max’s eyes. The Dutchman had a big smirk.  

“Weet je?” (Do you now?) 

Logan didn’t reply in the language. 

“Yes, I know some. I’m not as fluent as you are.” 

“He wanted to learn it so he could understand most of your other interviews where you talked more about the car.” 

“Y/n!” Logan whipped around and yelled. You only shrugged. 

“It’s the truth.” 

Logan then suddenly remembered something. He turned toward Charles. 

“Y/n knows French!” 

A spoon hit his head, but the American didn’t even flinch. This time, it was your turn to turn as red as the Ferrari car behind you. 

Charles cooed at, surprisingly, the both of them. 

“Aw, multi-lingual babies.” 

Your head was in your hands. “I am never talking to you ever again.” 

“Well that’s not helpful,” a male voice sounded at the front of the garage. Michael and Marissa were both smiling at the group of four. You slid off the table that you were currently sitting on. 

“I guess that’s our cue to go. Remember Charles, more espresso, less depresso.” 

You led Logan out of the garage as you followed the siblings. 

“Je te verrai plus tard petite abeille!” (I’ll see you later little bee!) 

You groaned once more after hearing Charles call after you. You glared up at Logan.

“You better be thankful that I love you.” 

Logan put a hand on his heart. “Aww, love you too.” 

“I still won’t hesitate to run you off the track though.” 

“Wouldn’t doubt it tesoro.” 

lamborghini_racing has posted

lamborghini_racing didn't throw away a good thing

liked by phoenix95, lamborghini, sargeant4ever, and 3,205,859 others

lambo_f1duo ok, but the caption slays 💅

swift_on_track truly is a reputations era, the black fits are fitting

charles_leclerc look, you even came in your little bee car 🐝

phoenix95 I will run you off the track with said bee car, it comes with a stinger

charles_leclerc ok, no more ice cream for you

phoenix95 I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT DO THAT

f1_gridgang man, this team is going to be top of the grid

lambof1 your honor, I fear they slayed too much

venus2 has posted

venus2 i'd do it over and over and over again if I could

liked by maxverstappen1, sargeantgirlie, oscarpiastri, and 5,305,104 others

lambovsferrari glad to see you back in the paddock bro, wouldn't be the same without you 💪

loscar_no_more BAHAHAHA NOT OSCAR HIDING IN THE LIKES

my_goat_logan you're going to come back even better than before!

phoenix95 picture creds would be preferable 🤨

venus2 oh sorry, thanks max for taking the pictures

maxverstappen1 you're welcome!

phoenix95 I still have Charles in my garage

maxverstappen1 you give him BACK

phoenix95 no.

charles_leclerc THAT'S IT - NO MORE ICE CREAM FOR THE TWO OF YOU (Logan let me out)

venus2 on it

ferrari&lambo_crew by I know that Enzo is rolling in his grave rn and Tonino is on the verge of an aneurism

tswizzlexf1 the I Did Something Bad lyrics >>>>>>

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 it just felt so good

liked by venus2, barnes&noble, dior, lewishamilton, and 5,305,201 others

booktok she's a racer AND A BOOKWORM?? she's just my type

venusxphoenix and Logan's too apparently

y/n.nation I'm digging the new layout and profile

venus2 you're welcome for the books

phoenix95 could have gotten them myself (ily and thank you)

charles_leclerc you're being...too nice 🤨

venus2 she loves me

phoenix95 gag (affectionately) 🫶

charles_leclerc SEE

maxverstappen1 it's her love language

venus2 it's the same as you and max talking about each other to everyone else

charles_leclerc low blow man, low blow 👊😔

rari_lambo_quartet I love them your honor

bee_lamborghini so ready for the first race

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[girlgenius1111]

unknowns

barça x reader young barça reader has an allergic reaction for the first time obviously, descriptions of a severe allergic reaction, use of epi pen, vomiting, etc.

-------

The day had gone as you had expected it to. Until it didn’t. Vicki Lopez being the voice of reason and calm in an emergency situation was not something you expected, either. 

Normally, Vicki was a bit of a troublemaker. It wasn’t entirely her fault; most of the younger girls could be trouble when they wanted to be. Vicki, though, could get away with anything. Maybe it was her age, or maybe it was the soft spot Alexia had for her. Either way, your captains didn’t hesitate to scold you, or Jana, or Pina for a harmless prank. When Vicki was the culprit, though, they would fight back smiles and shake their heads affectionately at the young forward. 

But while Vicki got away with everything, she was also very responsible. A fact that you were incredibly thankful for; her calmness and ability to think clearly in an emergency saved your life. 

-------

Double training sessions were not anyone’s favorite thing. Alright, maybe Alexia loved them, but she was Alexia. It was a nice day out, though, and while most of the older girls had headed inside during the break, most of the younger girls stayed outside, basking in the warm sun. The film session was due to begin shortly, but you all were trying to enjoy the fresh air before you had to retreat inside to the stuffy media room. 

You were content to just lay on the pitch with your eyes closed, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards today. Not when you very suddenly heard a loud buzzing sound in your ear, causing you to sit bolt upright and look around. 

“Falling asleep, pequeña?” Salma teased. 

You shook your head, looking around suspiciously. It was no secret that you hated bugs. Hated them. And one had evidently been close enough to your body for you to hear the buzzing sound it made. A flash of yellow caught your eye, and you stayed watching it until you realized what it was. A bee. Flying towards the bench planted in the grass. Actually, flying underneath it. The bee flew up, and you leaned forward a bit, trying to see where it had gone. 

Then, you jumped backwards, almost flopping onto Jana’s legs. 

“Off pequeña, it is hot today.” She complained, shoving you away from her. 

“Jana!” You shrieked, scrambling further away from the bench. “There’s a bee hive underneath the bench, don’t push me back towards it.” 

“A bee hive?” Jana asked, sitting up and looking at you seriously. “Oh my god, Ona-” 

You looked at Ona, who also looked concerned, pulling her phone out of her pocket and holding it to her ear. “Hello? Mr. President? There is a beehive on the Barça training grounds, you have to send the army in.” 

Your face burned as you rolled your eyes at your friends. “Alright, haha, I get it.” You rose to your feet, intending to walk away from your friends, but Jana stood too, lightly pushing you towards the bench. 

“Watch out pequeña, the bee might eat your head right off your body!” 

“I have heard Spanish bees can chew right through bone!” Vicki added. Everyone was laughing around you, and you shook your head, fighting back a smile. You knew they were just teasing, and you weren’t upset by it. 

“Fine. Get stung. I don’t care.” You declared. 

“I’ll go find someone to get rid of it.” Ona said kindly, though a slightly teasing smile adorned her freckled features, too. She walked away, and you were promptly distracted by Jana lunging for you, jokingly trying to push you back towards the hive. This time, though, you stumbled slightly and fell onto the ground much closer to the bench than you would’ve liked to get. 

“Sorry, nena,” Jana said sincerely, holding out a hand to help you up. It hadn’t been her intention to make you fall. Just as you reached to take her hand, though, you felt a sharp sting on your arm.

“Ow! Fuck,” you shouted, your head whipping down just in time to see the offending bee fall away into the grass under you. “It stung me.” 

You scooted far away from the hive, closer to Cata, who laid motionless on the grass, not even cracking an eyelid open to look at you. 

“Let me see.” Bruna asked, crouching down next to you and holding out a hand. You held your arm out, and the brunette inspected the small red mark on your skin. “Yeah, it got you. The stinger isn’t in there, though, so I'll just go get you a sting wipe. That should make it stop hurting.” 

You thanked her, and Bruna headed off towards where she knew the nearest first aid kit to be. 

“Pobrecita. Are you okay?” Jana asked, smiling at you. She was teasing, but you could tell she felt bad too. 

“It really hurts, Fernandez. I’ll get you back for this.” you muttered angrily, holding your wounded arm close to your body. It really did hurt. More than you expected. You’d never been stung by a bee before, but you weren’t sure it was supposed to hurt this much; you felt an odd surge of anxiety rush through you, though you weren’t quite sure why. 

“Don’t be dramatic pequeña, it’s just a little bee sting,” Jana laughed, not unkindly, turning away as Ona returned to say that the grounds crew would be out to look at the hive soon. “Bruni went to get the first aid kit, you’ll be fine.” 

You nodded, even as the world around you seemed to slow a bit, as the feeling of anxiety within you grew. You knew your teammates were talking to each other, joking around, but they seemed far away. You knew you were outside, and there was tons of fresh air around, but it felt like you couldn’t get enough oxygen into your lungs. You looked down at your arm, and though it was a little hazy, you knew it had swelled, and the redness spreading across your skin wasn’t normal. 

Desperately trying to inhale enough air, you turned to where Cata lay next to you, eyes closed as she basked in the warm sun. 

“Cata?” You mumbled, reaching out a shaky hand to grab her hand. 

One of the keeper’s eyes cracked open, and she sat up quickly seeing the look of fear on your face. “What is it?” 

“I don’t feel good.” You said, holding out your arm for her to see. “It’s hard to breathe,” 

“Fuck. Shit. Okay, okay,” Cata said, scooting closer to take your arm into her hands. She looked at it for a second, before looking at your face, which was growing red and splotchy as well. “Fuck. Jana, get a physio, get a captain, get someone, she’s having an allergic reaction,” 

Cata said the words in a frighteningly calm tone, but everyone’s attention snapped to you, and it was only a moment before Jana was taking off at a full sprint towards the building, 

“I have an epi pen,” Vicki shouted, looking frantically between the older girls, awaiting some instruction. Cata nodded at her, and that was all the younger girl needed before she was running after Jana.

Salma sat down on your other side, gently rubbing your back as it became clearer and clearer that something was really really wrong. You could barely get a breathe in, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to convince yourself that your throat was not closing up. 

“Cata, what do we do?” Salma asked, seeing her own terror reflected on the normally easy going keeper’s face across from her. 

“We keep her upright so it’s easier to breathe, and we stay calm because everything is fine, everything is fine,” Cata said quietly, pulling you to lean heavily against her. “Breathe, chica, as much as you can.” She reminded you, hearing as the wheeze in your chest grew more pronounced, and as your gasps for breath sped up. 

“Cata, please help.” You gasped, reaching up to claw at your neck, completely in vain. It was swelling shut and there was nothing you could do. Your vision was growing dark around the edges and you fought to keep your eyes open as they tried to slide shut. Your body slumped down, Cata catching you just in time to ease the impact. 

“Easy, easy. Stay awake, please, pequeña,” Cata insisted, tapping gently at your cheek. 

You heard loud voices approaching, and just barely identified them as belonging to Alexia and Ingrid. 

“What the fuck happened?” Alexia shouted, sprinting over to where you were now laid, your head in Cata’s lap. Ingrid was right behind her, with Jana bringing up the rear. Jana was crying, and Salma stood to pull her away slightly, trusting the older girls to take care of you. 

“Bee sting. She was okay at first but then she was acting weird and she said she didn't feel good and her arm is swelling and I don’t think she can breathe,” Cata explained in a rush, looking wildly between Ingrid and Alexia, fully panicking now that your eyes had closed, and that there was more adult adults there to take control of the situation. 

“She needs an epi pen, and someone needs to call an ambulance,” Ingrid stated. 

“Vicki went to get hers.” Cata said.

“I’m calling right now,” Salma chimed in, looking over from where she stood a few feet away, one arm wrapped around a very distraught Jana, one holding her phone to her ear.

“Hey, nena? Can you open your eyes for me, cariño?” Alexia said softly, though you were mostly oblivious.

It was the warm hands on your face, tapping a bit more firmly now, that had you realizing your eyes had fallen shut. You forced them open, your inhales barely more than a rattling wheeze now to see Alexia leaning over you. She looked more scared than you’d ever seen her, which didn’t make you feel very reassured. It was comforting, though when she began to softly run her fingers across your forehead and down your cheek, a motion you focused on instead of the tightness of your throat. 

“Good, good nena. You’re okay, everything is okay. Just try to stay awake for me okay? We’re getting you help, you just need to keep breathing.” 

“Hard,” you croaked, your good arm shifting and blindly reaching for someone, for anyone, to anchor you to consciousness. Ingrid took your hand in hers, her face appearing next to Alexia’s. 

“I know it’s hard, sweetheart, just keep trying. Vicki is coming right now with an epi pen. You’re gonna be okay, just keep your eyes open.” She cooed, her eyes looking suspiciously watery. 

“Can’t,” you mumbled, eyes falling shut once again. This time, they didn’t flutter back open. 

“Nena. Nena! Venga, chica, open your eyes,” Alexia said desperately, looking around frantically. She spotted Vicki in a dead sprint across the pitch. 

“VICKI” Alexia shouted, for no other reason than to do something other than lean over your unconscious body. She couldn’t focus on that right now, nor could she focus on the way your chest had stopped heaving. 

It was only seconds, really, but it felt like minutes, before Vicki made it to the group of panicked footballers. Alexia and Ingrid both held their hands out for the epi pen, though neither of them had ever used one in their life. Vicki took initiative, though, very calmly shoving Alexia out of the way and crouching at your side. She rolled your shorts up a bit, took the cap off the epi pen with her teeth, and thrust it at your leg without further thought, pressing the button on the end. Once the medication was dispensed, she dropped the pen onto the ground next to her, and sat back on her knees, her eyes fixed on you. 

“That’s it?” Irene asked. Vicki looked around, nodding. A group of your teammates had followed the commotion out to the pitch, and now stood in a very tense group around you. 

“Yeah. She’s breathing better already, she should be okay until the paramedics get here.” Vicki explained, a bit shocked at how little everyone seemed to know about allergic reactions and epi pens. 

“She’s going to be okay?” Alexia asked anxiously. 

“She should be. The paramedics are here, they’ll take care of her.” Vicki noted, nodding to where the ambulance was backing onto the field. 

By the time the paramedics had pushed everyone away and began to get an oxygen mask on your face, you started to wake up. As your eyes blinked open, seeing two strangers hovering over your body, you were extremely disoriented. Not just disoriented, but panicked. You couldn’t remember what had happened, where you were, why you were lying on the ground, or why your whole body seemed to hurt. You tried to push the stranger away from you with your hand, but it was shaking too much to really do anything. 

“Hey, relax, you’re alright. We’re here to help.” The man said, pushing your arm back onto the grass under you. You squirmed nervously, a quiet sob falling from your mouth. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared above yours, and you relaxed almost instantly. 

“You’re okay pequeña, I’m right here.” Alexia soothed. You felt her hands on your face, keeping you pressed down onto the grass. 

“Ale,” you cried, your voice barely more than a croaking gasp. The feelings of panic in your body were intense, like anxiety was coursing through your veins instead of blood. 

“You’re okay.” Alexia repeated. “You got stung by a bee, and you had an allergic reaction. The paramedics are taking care of you.” 

You relaxed slightly, letting Alexia take your hand in hers. She coached you to breathe deeply, batting your free hand away when you tried to push the oxygen mask off your face. 

“No, no, that has to stay on for now.” She told you, feeling hysterical laughter bubble up inside of her at the disgruntled look on your face. You flinched when they placed an IV in your hand, a few tears falling from your flushed face into the grass. Once the IV was in, they were moving you into the back of the ambulance. You caught a glimpse of the entire team watching on nervously, and you felt another surge of panic rushing through you when you realized Alexia wasn’t by your side anymore. You tried to sit up, but you were too weak to do so. Instead, you removed the mask from your face, craning your neck as you looked around for your captain. 

“Ale?!” you croaked. 

You had been slid into the back of the ambulance fully when Alexia appeared at your side again. 

“I’m here, nena.” 

“Can you stay? Please?” You requested tearfully, relieved when Alexia took a seat on the bench next to you. As the ambulance began its journey to the hospital, you focused on the feeling of Alexia’s hand holding tightly to yours, and the incessant questions she was firing at the poor paramedic. It was a bumpy ride that had your stomach turning before long, and you struggled to sit up, yanking the oxygen mask off. Your face had gone completely white as you looked around frantically.

And though Alexia looked confused, trying to guide you back to lay down, the paramedic seemed to have been expecting this, and held a sick bag out in front of you. Your throat still felt tight and scratchy from before, and throwing up felt more uncomfortable than normal. You whimpered as you were sick, unable to hide your intense feelings of discomfort. 

“You’re okay, pequeña,” Alexia soothed, as she continued to rub your back, and you would have been embarrassed if you were in any other state. She looked, panicked, at the paramedic, every new symptom worrying her further.

“It’s alright, this is completely normal. Her body is just reacting to the allergen and the epinephrine.” She assured your captain. “I can’t give her anything for nausea until we get to the hospital.” 

Alexia nodded, turning her attention back to you. You pushed the sick bag away, collapsing back onto the gurney and weakly reaching out for the blonde’s hand again. You sobbed and covered your face with your other hand, feeling so incredibly horrific, you could barely think. You would have explained it as feeling like you were dying, if you hadn’t just experienced that feeling a few minutes ago. Your body felt like it was caving in on itself, though, and the blonde next to you could tell you were starting to freak out. 

“Shh, nena. Just breathe, in and out.”

“Ale, I really don’t feel good,” you cried. Alexia nodded sympathetically; she could tell. Your face was as white as a sheet, you had broken out into a sweat though you were shivering violently. You looked so miserable and uncomfortable, tears pooling in your eyes, as you looked helplessly up at your captain. 

“I know, cariño. We’re almost at the hospital, okay?”

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on breathing. Another minute passed, another minute of your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You could hear it pounding in your ears, the anxiety building inside of you with every passing second. It wasn’t getting better. If anything, it was getting worse, and you weren’t sure you could cope with it for any longer. 

With a whimper, you reached out to Alexia, clinging onto her shirt. 

“What is it, pequeña? Are you going to be sick again?” She asked, frowning when you shook your head. 

“My- my heart is beating so fast, I don’t, I can’t,” 

“That’s the epinephrine.” The paramedic told you sympathetically, grabbing something from her side and injecting it into the IV. “This might make you a bit sleepy, but it should slow your heart rate down.”

It made you really sleepy. Your eyes fluttered shut almost as soon as it hit your bloodstream. You were in and out for the rest of the ambulance ride. Everytime you cracked your eyes open, you were comforted to see Alexia next to you. 

Alexia tried not to panic when you dozed off, knowing it was probably for the better that you sleep now, instead of being forced to stay awake through the worst of the side effects from what had occurred. 

--------

You awoke slowly, looking around blearily as you came too. There was still an oxygen mask sitting on your face, but your chest didn’t feel as tight as it had before. It was significantly easier to breathe, and though your body still ached, it wasn’t as pronounced. 

“Hey, nena.” Alexia cooed, appearing in your line of vision as soon as you moved your hand that was resting in hers. “How are you feeling?” 

“I-” you coughed, throat too dry to get any words out. Another face appeared in front of you, and a straw was being pressed to your lips. Ingrid watched you drink the water with great concern, her eyes creased with worry. “I’m okay.” 

“You’re sure? You can breathe okay?” Irene asked, a third face leaning down over the bed. 

It was getting claustrophobic, and you leaned back a bit. “I can breathe. I’m fine.” 

They all seemed to deflate at that, giving relieved sighs and moving back to their respective chairs. 

“You scared us, nena.” Irene said quietly. 

You nodded, a frown on your face. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“No, elskling, don’t be sorry. That wasn’t your fault, not at all.”

You shrugged, trying to pull your hand away from Alexia’s in order to reach for the water cup in Ingrid’s hand.

“What? What is it? What do you need? I can do it.” Alexia said, leaning forward anxiously and holding your hand tighter in hers. 

You gave her a strange look. “I just want the water?” 

“I got it!” Ingrid said, once again holding the straw to your lips. All three women watched as you took a sip, and their overbearing concern was beginning to get to you. 

“You guys, I’m fine. Relax.” 

“No.” Alexia said sternly. 

“No?” You echoed. 

“No, I will not relax. I will hover if I want to.” 

You rolled your eyes, reaching up to scratch at your face. Alexia caught your hand again, as all three women leaned forward. 

“What do you need?” They all said, in complete unison.

You sighed, letting Alexia scratch your forehead for you. There was no use arguing. Once your teammates set their minds on being protective, there wasn’t anything you could do to change it.

-------

The rest of the team stopped by throughout the day, with your younger friends coming in only an hour before you were set to be released. They joked around with you, though clearly they were overcome with thinly veiled relief. They were worried, and you understood why. 

You were preoccupied, though. Because while every one of your teammates had come to see you, one had yet to speak. 

Jana stood in the doorway of the hospital room like coming any closer would set off some kind of alarm. You looked at her, repeatedly, but she refused to meet your gaze, her eyes fixed on her feet. 

You exchanged a look with Alexia who was making sure your friends didn’t get too rowdy. The captain tried to engage Jana in conversation for a few minutes, but only got shrugs and one word answers. The room fell into a slightly awkward silence as the tension grew, and all you wanted to do was get out of the stupid hospital bed and pull Jana into a hug. You would settle for her speaking to you, though, and your captain evidently had the same idea. 

“Alright. She needs to rest. Everyone out.” Alexia declared, beginning to shoo everyone from the room. She caught Jana’s elbow before she could go, too, though, stopping her from leaving. 

Even when the room emptied, and it was just the three of you, Jana refused to raise her head. 

“Jana.” Alexia murmured, pulling the defender further into the room. “Come on, cariño.” 

The brunette took a deep breath, before she looked up at you, eyes filled with tears. “I am so sorry.” 

“Jana, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not!” She cried, throwing her hands up in the air, and shaking off the hug Alexia tried to pull her into. “I almost killed you. It is not okay. You almost died and it was my fault.” 

“That could have happened to anybody. You could have pushed Ona or Bruna or Cata. It was a freak accident.” 

“But it happened to you.” Jana said miserably. 

You shook your head, feeling guilty that she felt so guilty. “And I’m fine! Jana, come here.” Alexia half dragged the defender over to the chair next to your bed and you grabbed her hand as soon as she was within reach. “You couldn’t have known. I didn’t even know. We were just joking around, like we always do. You didn't do anything wrong, Jana, and I’m not mad.”

She looked up at you, looking so unlike her usual joyful self. “You aren’t mad?” 

“No.” You insisted. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. Now we know, and I can push you in front of any incoming bees.”

Jana huffed out a laugh, wiping a stray tear away. Alexia was looking at you proudly, rather touched at how kind you were being to Jana, who was clearly a mess at the moment. 

“Can I carry one of your epi pens?” Jana asked. 

“Oh my god.” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“I am getting one for everyone on the team.” Alexia said seriously, causing you and Jana to giggle even harder. “What?! We have to be prepared!” 

You groaned, though you weren’t really upset. How much your teammates cared about you would never really be a bother. It was something you hadn’t really had in your life until you arrived in Barça, and it wasn’t something you’d trade for the world. Even if it came with very frequent teasing, and even more frequent overprotectiveness.

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ive been agonizing over this for so long and i strongly dislike it but i hope you guys like it more than i do 🫶🏻🙂

also i have only gone into anaphylaxis once and i was like 6 but this is pretty much what i remember + some help from google.

<3

[queenofwands89]

Do you do fanfic requests? If so I was hoping for maybe an angsty enemies to lovers with Tyler Owens, like they are rivals and just got off on a bad start that spiraled into them hating each other but slowly seeing there's more there but being in denial until maybe like Reader gets injured in a chase or helping someone and Tyler realized how he truly feels? Idk lol. Just need some good angst and hurt comfort.

Stormfront Showdown (Part 1)

Tyler Owens x fem!Stormchaser!reader

Summary: Y/N and Tyler have been longstanding rivals, their past filled with unresolved conflicts and clashing opinions on storm chasing. With vastly different approaches to tracking and studying storms, their heated debates have become legendary. Now, with the upcoming storm chasing convention on the horizon, tensions are set to skyrocket. You know Tyler will be there, and the question is: will this be another explosive encounter, or will the storm finally bring them together in unexpected ways?

Word count: 2262

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, verbal sparring, competition, dumb blonde joke, teasing, a little angsty idk.

Notes: Thank you so much for your request! I apologize for the delay; I recently started school and things have been hectic. I took a bit of creative liberty with your request and turned it into a short series. I hope you don't mind! If anyone wants me to make a taglist, just let me know. I hope you enjoy it—bye! 💜

The storm chaser convention is your annual pilgrimage as a weather enthusiast or professional. The ballroom of the Kansas City Grand Hotel buzzes with anticipation. As you stand at the entrance, your eyes sweep the room with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. You don't particularly enjoy these crowded events, preferring the solitude and precision of your solo chases, but your presence here is a necessary evil—an opportunity to share your findings and emphasize the importance of safety and scientific rigor.

You smooth the front of your blazer, double-checking your notes for the panel discussion. It’s then that you spot him: Tyler Owens. The Tornado Wrangler himself stands surrounded by a throng of fans and admirers, his laughter loud and infectious. His rugged appearance, complete with cowboy boots and a well-worn hat, seems to dominate the room. Boone is there too, camera in hand, capturing every moment for Tyler's YouTube channel. Lily, Dexter, and Dani mingle nearby, each in their element.

You inhale deeply, trying to steady your nerves. The name Tyler Owens epitomizes everything you abhor in storm chasing—recklessness, unchecked bravado, and an insatiable thirst for sensationalism. To you, he is the living antithesis of diligent scientific inquiry and responsible journalism.

Your last encounter with Tyler was nothing short of disastrous. What began as a simple disagreement escalated into a full-blown public feud, broadcasted for the world to see via social media and various news outlets. You had penned a scathing article, meticulously criticizing his methods as dangerous and irresponsible. Your words were sharp, intended to signal a wake-up call not just to him but to the entire community of storm chasers.

Tyler, never one to retreat from controversy, responded with an incendiary video. Filled with passionate retorts and dismissive gestures, his rebuttal ignited a firestorm of reactions, polarizing the storm-chasing community and capturing the attention of a captivated audience.

The bitter memory of this exchange still lingers in your mind, a festering wound that has yet to heal. Now, as you anticipate another face-to-face meeting with him, you feel the weight of that unresolved animosity. You brace yourself for the confrontation that seems as inevitable as the approaching storm you both intend to chase.

The panel is called to order, and the moderator introduces the speakers with a flourish. You take your seat, your heart pounding in your chest. Tyler settles into the chair next to you, flashing a charming smile that belies the tension crackling between you.

"Welcome, everyone," the moderator begins. "Today, we have a diverse panel of storm chasers who will share their unique perspectives on this thrilling and dangerous field. Let's start with you, Y/N. Can you tell us about your approach to storm chasing?"

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking. "I believe storm chasing is an essential tool for advancing our understanding of severe weather phenomena. My approach focuses on meticulous planning, data collection, and public safety. The goal is to minimize risk while maximizing scientific value."

Tyler leans forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he addresses the room. "You know, while I truly appreciate Y/N's unwavering commitment to safety," he begins, his voice smooth and confident, "we sometimes overlook the bigger picture. Storm chasing isn't just about data and caution—it's about raising awareness and capturing the awe-inspiring power of nature."

He pauses for effect, letting his words sink in before flashing a charismatic smile at the crowd. "My team and I, we're not just scientists; we're storytellers. We bring these magnificent storms to the world, showing people a side of nature they rarely see."

His smile widens, eyes sparkling with excitement. "We have a saying in our crew: 'If you feel it, chase it.' Because in those moments of raw, untamed nature, we find our stories, our inspiration."

The room erupts in appreciative murmurs and nods of agreement, some even breaking into applause. Tyler's infectious enthusiasm and charm work their magic, swaying the audience to his perspective, if only for the moment.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Raising awareness is important, Tyler, but not at the expense of safety. Your methods put not just you and your team at risk but also the communities you travel through."

"And your methods," Tyler shoots back, "might yield scientifically valuable data, but they often lack the human element. People need to see the raw, unfiltered power of these storms to understand what we're dealing with."

The panel has been raging on for twenty minutes, each of you firing verbal volleys that keep the audience captivated. The tension is palpable, and it’s clear that you and Tyler aren’t on good terms.

Tyler leans forward, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He’s baiting you, and he knows exactly which buttons to push. "You know, ever since that article you wrote, questioning my methods, I've been wondering. Maybe you're just not a fan of a little excitement? Gotta admit, though, it did spark quite the public feud."

The hint of satisfaction in his voice is unmistakable—he’s reveling in the attention, the controversy, and most of all, the fact that he’s gotten under your skin.

You snap back, your tone fiery and unapologetic. "And with good reason. Your methods are reckless, Tyler. Capturing nature is one thing, but ensuring the safety of our team and the community is paramount. Data collection can be done without playing Russian roulette with our lives."

Tyler smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, but without taking risks, we miss out on the most stunning phenomena. The beauty of a storm isn't just in its data points—it's in the visceral experience."

Your eyes narrow, voice sharp and unyielding. "Visceral experiences are meaningless if they end in tragedy. We need to strike a balance—pushing limits, yes, but with calculated caution. Not reckless abandonment just to feed your adrenaline addiction."

Leaning in slightly, his voice drops to a teasing whisper, "Careful. If you play it too safe, you might end up in a cozy weather office instead of out there chasing the real action."

You raise an eyebrow, your smile icy. "Better a cozy office than a hospital bed, Tyler. Besides, in the office, I can keep an eye on your antics, making sure you don’t turn yourself into a cautionary tale."

Tyler chuckles, clearly unfazed. "Touché. But admit it, you'd miss our epic sparring sessions out in the field."

You smirk back, your tone dripping with sarcasm, "Maybe. But I'd miss watching you lose a battle of wits with a breeze. It's like a real-life dumb blonde joke, but without the punchline."

Boone, with his characteristic enthusiasm, interjects, "You both have valid points! The thrill and the data—can't we find a middle ground here that marries both perspectives?"

Tyler grins at Boone's comment, "Maybe, Boone. But finding that middle ground is easier said than done."

The moderator, sensing the escalating tension and the need to maintain decorum, finally calls for a break. Their calm yet authoritative voice cuts through the cacophony of arguments, bringing a temporary ceasefire.

"Let's take a ten-minute break to gather our thoughts," the moderator says, brokering no argument. "This will give everyone a chance to cool off and reflect."

The announcement is met with a collective exhale from the audience. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you step away from the podium, your mind racing with the flurry of ideas and rebuttals. Tyler shoots you a confident smirk, clearly reveling in the public sparring.

As the room buzzes with low conversations and people stretch their legs, you glance towards Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani. Boone gives you a thumbs-up, his eyes sparkling with excitement for the next round. Lily offers a supportive nod, while Dexter's contemplative gaze meets yours, as if silently urging you to remain steadfast. Dani approaches you quietly, her concern evident.

"Take a moment to breathe," she advises softly. "You’re doing great, but don’t let him get under your skin."

You nod, appreciating the support as you resolve to keep your composure for the next part of the debate. Tyler may have won the crowd for now, but the debate is far from over.

You step away from the panel, finding solace in a quiet corner of the room. You sip your water, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and determination. A voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Y/N," Tyler says, his tone unusually soft. "Can we talk?"

You turn to face him, your eyes narrowing. "There's not much to say, Tyler. We clearly have different philosophies that will never align."

He sighs, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Look, I know we've had our differences, but we're both here for a reason. We're passionate about what we do. Maybe... just maybe, there's a middle ground we haven't considered."

Before you can respond, a group of Tyler's ardent fans—mostly attractive young women whose adoration for him is barely concealed—swarm in, interrupting your conversation. Their laughter and excited voices fill the air as they clamor for his attention, each holding out their phones for selfies.

"Tyler, can we get a picture with you?"

"You're amazing, Tyler, can you sign this?"

Their voices form a cacophony of admiration and eagerness. Tyler gives you a fleeting look, a glimmer of regret in his eyes. As he turns to handle the eager fans, you seize the moment. You walk away quickly, your strides purposeful and filled with resolve.

By the time Tyler manages to take a few pictures and sign a couple of autographs, he looks up to continue the conversation, but you're already gone. He scans the room, his expression shifting from hope to dejection as he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

His shoulders slump slightly, and a look of displeasure shadows his face. The admiring fans around him continue their cheerful chatter, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He looks in the direction you went, frustration evident as he contemplates the vanished opportunity to bridge the chasm between you.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

The second day of the storm chaser convention dawns with a swirl of excitement and anticipation. Yesterday had been a whirlwind, with Tyler and you continuing your intense, verbal sparring match during your panel. As soon as it ended, you purposely avoided Tyler for the rest of the day, determined to keep your distance and focus on the upcoming events.

Today, however, is different. You feel a surge of excitement as you head towards the sign-up area for the competition on advanced research—a competition you have won every year. You stride confidently through the bustling convention hall, ready to claim your victory once more.

Approaching the registration table, you're taken aback to see Tyler there, pen in hand, scribbling his name onto the sign-up sheet. Your eyebrows knit together in a mixture of surprise and annoyance as you walk up to him.

"What are you doing here, Tyler?" you ask, folding your arms across your chest. "This competition has strict rules that you couldn't follow even if they were spelled out in neon lights."

Tyler smirks and meets your gaze. "Decided to sign up this year. Thought I'd give you some real competition."

You lock eyes, each ready for a verbal duel. The air between you crackles with tension.

"If you think you can handle it, by all means, try," you retort, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "Just know that this isn't your usual chaotic escapade. This requires precision and knowledge—qualities that, frankly, I don't think you possess."

Tyler chuckles softly. "We'll see about that. Underestimating me might be your biggest mistake."

Before you can continue your exchange, the host of the panel steps up to a microphone, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. The host, a renowned meteorologist named Dr. Sandra Jacobs, greets the crowd with a warm smile and a practiced ease.

"Good morning, everyone! I'm Dr. Sandra Jacobs, and it's my pleasure to welcome you to this year's storm chaser convention!" Dr. Jacobs begins, her voice carrying effortlessly through the room. "As many of you know, this convention is a celebration of the fascinating and often dangerous world of storm chasing. It's a place for experts and enthusiasts alike to share their passion and knowledge."

A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd as Dr. Jacobs continues.

"One of the highlights of our convention is the competition on advanced research. It's a chance for storm chasers to showcase their findings, methodologies, and innovations in storm tracking and prediction."

Your eyes shift back to Tyler momentarily, a competitive fire igniting within you.

"This year, however, we’ve decided to change things up," Dr. Jacobs announces, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "There will be no rules and no limits! The stakes are higher than ever, with $100,000 in research funding and a special feature on Discovery Plus for the winner!"

A collective gasp and murmurs of surprise and excitement ripple through the crowd. Your eyes widen slightly, processing the unexpected twist. Tyler glances at you, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

"No rules, huh?" he teases, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Looks like your little rule-book speech just got thrown out the window."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, both frustrated and fueled by the sudden turn of events. You watch him go, your mind already strategizing how to adapt to the new, unpredictable landscape of the competition. The game had just changed, and you are more determined than ever to come out on top.