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street-smarts00 · 9 months ago

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in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you.

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind.

“Do you know how old she is?”

“No, how old is she?”

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi.

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid.

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added.

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview.

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim.

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned.

“Three years,” Penelope answered

“What? Did she join right after college?”

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.”

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work.

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered.

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.”

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.”

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting.

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk.

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.”

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right.

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about.

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius.

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time.

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him.

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted.

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?”

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.”

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious.

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile.

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you.

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help.

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried.

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself.

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself.

Well, until your last case.

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man.

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took.

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go.

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk.

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.”

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked.

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word.

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes.

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.”

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?”

“I promise.”

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call.

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.”

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked.

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call.

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice.

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself.

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety.

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.”

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down.

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin.

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor.

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked.

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?”

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.”

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone.

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this.

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now.

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored.

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly.

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus.

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care.

He just needed to get to you.

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor.

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up.

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs.

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name.

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd.

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm.

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted.

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.”

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face.

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to.

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place.

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him.

He was wrong.

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for.

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you.

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you.

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor.

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.”

“Fun,” you said sarcastically.

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them?

There is no casual way.

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out.

He wasn’t aware you heard it.

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response.

“If I crossed the line-“

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice.

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face.

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain.

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him.

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit.

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected.

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble.

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume.

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!”

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you.

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours.

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled.

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.”

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart.

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started.

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles.

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.”

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.”

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go.

The silence was deafening, plaguing him.

“Please … say something,” he begged.

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone.

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.”

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious.

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.”

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles.

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room.

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into.

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks.

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly.

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered.

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise.

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand.

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left.

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath.

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?”

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.”

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear.

“You’re an amazing profiler.”

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled.

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone.

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.”

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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totaly-obsessed · 9 months ago

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Out of the Pages

➳ Paige Bueckers x reader

➳ Navigation Post - here!

➳ introvert x extrovert - worlds meet

➳ Pure fluff, not proof read, idk guys, it's been a while. ➳ reader really is just me...

➳ Word count: 3.1k

The soft afternoon sun filters through the curtains of the small apartment you share with your girlfriend in downtown Storrs, casting a warm, golden light over the neat rows of books on your beloved bookshelf. Through the open window, you can hear the people talking on the street as they embrace the last warm days before it eventually gets colder.

October is halfway over, and it won’t be long until the basketball season starts back up again, leaving Paige and her teammates in a constant state of excitement as they are making the last preparations. But in this apartment, curled up in your favorite armchair, you are at peace, absorbed in the pages of your book as you try to solve the case alongside the main character—a stark contrast to the lively chaos your girlfriend thrives in. It’s that very difference that makes your relationship work so well, despite what other people say.

In one of the restaurants close by a glass is dropped, pulling your focus from the book. A quick glance at the clock tells you that it shouldn’t be too much longer until Paige comes home. Practice ended 20 minutes ago, but most days she stayed a bit later, getting some more shots in, trying to perfect them to the best of her abilities, before she finally walked the 5-minute way back to your joint home.

With a sigh you close your book, realizing that you should probably get a start on dinner. You had always been the kind of person who found joy in the quieter moments in life. Reading a good mystery book and savoring the stillness that came with an afternoon without classes. Paige thrived in the energy of the crowd and the adrenaline of the game, while you cherished the simple things. A nice, hot, cup of tea. The feeling of a brand new book in your hands. Rain hitting your window in the fall. Knowing that she will walk through your front door in a couple of minutes, happy to fall into your comforting arms and tell you everything that happened.

But even with you being a more private person, Paige loved you loudly. Nearly every second day she posts a pic of you on her Story. Sometimes she posts little videos of how you’re dancing around in the kitchen with her or how her teammates are interacting with you. In interviews, it’s hard to get her to stop talking about you, because no matter what the topic is, she is guaranteed to talk about you. And her fans love every second of it, and they love every bit of you. While she chases perfection on the court, you find perfection in the little things—in the way her eyes light up when she talks about her day, in the quiet moments when you simply exist together, side by side. And everyone loves watching you two be in love.

“Hi, Lovie!” Not once in your life has Paige walked through your front door quietly. So just like most days, the door flings open, as your girlfriend grins at you. “Oh, you look good, Baby!” And just like most days, she pulls the ‘o’s’ in good as long as she can. “Love, I’m wearing a sweater and shorts.” You deadpan at her while you drain the pasta and pour it into a pan. “I know Baby. But it’s my sweater and those shorts… Yeah, I don’t think I need to say it.” Warm arms wrap themselves around you as your girlfriend clings to you, looking over your shoulder and watching you finish the sauce. “There is no protein in there, Baby.” With a scoff you shrug her off, pushing her towards the bathroom. “Wash your hands, dinner is ready.”

A soft kiss was pressed against your cheek as Paige joined you at the table. “Thank you for cooking Ma.” With a soft hum you lean into her touch, a small smile playing at your lips as you reply, "Anything for you, Love." The blonde lets out a satisfied moan as she takes the first bite, “This is incredible.” As quickly as you can you pull a face, “There is no protein in there, baby”, mocking what she said earlier to you, in your best ‘Paige voice’. One of her eyebrows shoots up, daring you to test her again.

As the playful banter continues between the two of you, Paige's eyes gleam with a mischievous spark. "You know," she says, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, "You can't stay cooped up in this apartment forever. How about coming out with me this weekend?"

You give her a knowing smile, already sensing where this conversation is headed. "Oh, Paige, you know I’d rather spend my time at home." She pouts dramatically, “But baby, it’s not just some loud party. It’s gonna be fun! Just a little get-together with the team and some friends. Nothing too crazy, I promise. Azzi told me about it.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, “I’ve heard that before. And I also remember how we ended up staying until 2 a.m. last time because you couldn't stop dancing.” Paige laughs, a sound like music filling the room, one of your favorite sounds there is. "Okay, fair point, but this time, I swear, it’s different. It's going to be relaxed—chill vibes, a few drinks, good music. Just a chance to hang out together."

You look at her skeptically, already shaking your head. “I don’t know, Paige… I’m really not the party type.” Your girlfriend leans in closer, her grin widening. "I know that, babe. And that’s exactly why I think you should come, just this once. It could be good for you to step out of your comfort zone. Who knows? You might even enjoy it." You laugh softly, but the idea still feels foreign to you. “I think my comfort zone is a pretty nice place, actually.”

“Come on,” Paige nudges you gently. “Just think about it, okay?”

You nod, more to humor her than out of any real intention of agreeing. "I’ll think about it," you say, and Paige gives you a triumphant little cheer, knowing that everything but a ‘no’ is a victory.

Over the next few days, Paige doesn't let it go. She brings it up casually while you’re both cooking dinner, or when you're curled up on the couch together. “You know, they’ll have those little sliders you love at the party,” she mentions offhandedly one evening. Another day, she adds, “It could be like a mini-date night… just us two, but, like, with other people.”

You can’t help but smile at her persistence, though you keep gently declining each time. “I’m really not sure, Paige,” you respond, even as she keeps layering on reasons and reassurances, each argument filled with her enthusiasm.

Finally, one evening, as you’re sitting together watching a show, Paige takes a more serious tone. “Listen, love,�� she says, turning towards you and taking your hand. “I know you’re not into these kinds of things, and I respect that. I love that you’re different. But I think it could be fun for us to do something a little out of the ordinary… together. Just this once.”

You tilt your head, considering her words, but still unsure. “And if I don’t have a good time?”

Paige smiles, her eyes soft. “Then we leave. No questions asked. I’ll stay by your side the entire time, I promise. I just… I just want to see you in my world, even if it’s just for one night. We can leave whenever you want. I promise you won’t be alone in it. I’ll be by your side the whole time, and Nika is gonna be there, and Azzi and KK, the whole team really. You love them! Deal?”

Her sincerity touches you, and you feel a small tug at your heart. You know how much this means to her, how much she wants to share every aspect of her life with you, just as she proudly shares you with the world.

With a sigh, you finally relent. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But I’m holding you to that promise. One step out of line, and we’re out.” Paige’s face lights up with a brilliant smile, and she throws her arms around you in a tight hug. “Deal, baby. And trust me, it’ll be fun. You’ll see.” You smile back, feeling the warmth of her excitement radiating off her.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she litters small kisses all over your face, as the blonde just can’t help herself, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. “If you hadn’t said yes today, I wasn’t gonna go either.” The jerk of your head was exactly what she had expected after telling you her little secret. At your whines, she could only laugh, “Nuh-uh. you said yes. Now We’re goin'!”

The night of the party arrives faster than you expected, and you find yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your clothes nervously. Paige, ever the enthusiast, had picked out a comfortable yet stylish outfit for you, something that she assured would help you “blend in but still look cute." You catch her reflection in the mirror as she comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your chest, her smile warm and encouraging. “You look perfect,” she says, and you know she means it.

Your nerves build with every meter on the way to the party. The streets are busier than usual for a usual Saturday night, and you can already hear the faint thrum of music coming from a few blocks away. Paige’s right hand found its usual place, your thigh, as she rubbed comforting circles. “Remember,” she murmurs softly, loud enough that you can hear her over the open windows that let in the cooling evening air, “we can leave whenever you want. This is just for fun, okay?”

You nod, trying to take a deep breath and push down the flutter of anxiety in your chest. The music grows louder as you approach the house, the bass thumping through the walls as the blonde parks the car. Laughter and chatter spill out into the street, a warm glow radiating from the windows. Paige squeezes your hand one last time before opening her car door, jogging around, and helping you out of your seat.

Inside, the atmosphere is exactly as you imagined—people are scattered around, chatting in groups, dancing, or playing games. You immediately feel a wave of discomfort wash over you. It’s not just the noise, but the sheer number of people crammed into the small space. Paige senses your hesitation and keeps you close, her arm slipping around your waist protectively.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispers, her lips close to your ear. “Just breathe. We’ll find a quieter corner.” She guides you gently through the crowd, smiling and waving at friends as you pass by. You catch snippets of conversations and see faces turning your way, but Paige’s presence keeps you grounded. She introduces you to a few people, all of them friendly enough, but the whirlwind of names and faces makes your head spin.

How does this girl know everyone?

Finally, you reach a quieter spot near the kitchen, where the noise is a bit more subdued. Paige grabs two drinks, handing one to you. “Here, something light,” she says with a wink. “No pressure to drink if you don’t want to, but it might help you relax.”

You take a tentative sip, and Paige’s smile widens. “See? Not so bad, right?” You give her a small smile in return, still feeling a bit overwhelmed but comforted by her presence. For a few minutes, things seem to settle. Paige chats animatedly with a few friends who come by to say hello, and you listen quietly, feeling a little more at ease just being by her side.

But then, KK and Ice, two of Paige’s closest friends and teammates, approach with wide grins. “Paige!” KK exclaims, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “We’re about to start a game of beer pong. You in?”

Paige glances at you, “Nah, I’m good right where I am,” she says firmly, smiling at her friends. “I’m here to spend time with my girl tonight.”

KK raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Your girl can play too, you know,” she teases, glancing over at you with a playful challenge in her eyes. “Come on, it’s just a game. We promise not to make it too competitive… unless you want us to.” Ice laughs and nods, chiming in, “Yeah, it’ll be fun! You’ve got Paige on your team, so you’re already halfway to winning!”

Paige looks at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment. She can see the hesitation written all over your face, the way your fingers lightly grip her arm, not wanting to let go. You give her a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head, and she instantly understands.

She turns back to KK and Ice, flashing a charming smile. “You know what? I think I’m gonna sit this one out tonight,” she says smoothly. “We’re just here to chill and have a quiet night. Maybe next time?”

KK chuckles, catching the subtle glance between you and Paige. “Alright, alright, we get it. No pressure,” she teases with a grin. “You two are inseparable, huh?” Paige just shrugs, her grin widening as she pulls you closer to her side. “Can you blame me?” she quips back, her tone light but sincere.

KK and Ice exchange a knowing look, teasing her with playful jabs. “Oh, come on, Paige, you’re whipped,” KK laughs, but there’s no malice in it—just teasing their friend.

“Damn right, I am,” Paige grins, pulling you closer. “And proud of it.”

They laugh and shake their heads. "Alright, alright," Ice says, “we’ll catch you later then.” They wander off, leaving you and Paige in your little corner.

As they wander off to join the others, Paige turns to you, her smile softening. “I’ve got you, always,” she murmurs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You feel the tension in your shoulders ease a bit, and you nod. “Thank you,” you whisper, and Paige leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No big deal Ma.,” she replies softly.

“Tell me about your book, baby. What happened in the last chapter? Did Pip figure it out?”

You can’t help but smile at her genuine interest. Paige has heard you ramble on about countless books, and every time she listens as if it’s the most important thing in the world. "Well," you start, your voice a little shaky but gaining confidence as you go on, "Pip thinks she has it all figured out, but there’s this new twist... the suspect has an alibi that throws her entire theory out the window."

Paige’s eyes widen dramatically. “No way!” she exclaims, leaning in closer as if this story was the most gripping thing she'd ever heard. “I was sure she had it this time. What’s she going to do now?”

You laugh softly at her enthusiasm, feeling more at ease. "She’s back to square one, basically. But she’s determined to find a new lead, and I think she’s getting closer to the truth."

Paige nods, fully absorbed in your words, her blue eyes fixed on you with a look of admiration that makes your heart flutter. For a moment, the noise and energy of the party fade away, and it’s just the two of you, sharing this quiet little world together. It’s these moments that remind you why you took the chance to come here tonight—for her, for this.

Just then, from across the room, Azzi catches sight of Paige and nudges Nika, who follows her gaze. They both burst into giggles, catching the attention of KK and Ice, who turns to see what’s so amusing.

“Look at her,” Azzi whispers to the group, a grin spreading across her face. “She’s got the puppy dog eyes again.”

KK snickers, “She’s totally whipped. She looks like she’s watching a sunrise or something.”

Nika laughs quietly, nodding. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look at anyone like that,” she adds, her voice filled with a touch of wonder. “It’s actually really cute.”

Ice chuckles, shaking her head. “That’s love, right there,” she says with a smile. “The girl’s completely gone for her.”

Meanwhile, Paige remains blissfully unaware of her friends’ teasing, still fully focused on you, hanging on to every word as you continue to tell her about the next chapter. Her hand finds yours, squeezing it gently, her thumb tracing light circles over your skin.

After a few moments, you catch sight of her friends watching from across the room, and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Paige,” you whisper, nudging her slightly. “Your friends are staring.”

Paige glances over and catches their teasing expressions. She rolls her eyes with a grin, then turns back to you, unabashed. “Let them stare,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

You feel your heart swell with affection as Paige leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The party continues around you, but it feels like the noise has dimmed just a little, leaving a bubble of peace around the two of you.

Eventually, the evening winds down, and as the crowd begins to thin, you realize that Paige is right. It wasn’t so bad—actually, it was more than that. You had fun in your own way, simply by being there with her, sharing in her world.

As you make your way back to the car, hand in hand, Paige looks at you with a triumphant smile. “See?” she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief and joy. “Told you it would be fun.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, too. “Okay, okay,” you admit. “Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

As you reach the car, she stops and turns to face you, her expression turning sincere. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For tonight, and for always being my safe place.” You lean in and kiss her softly, your heart full. “I love you, Paige,” you murmur against her lips. “Anywhere with you is where I want to be.”

And with that, you both get into the car and drive back home together, knowing that whether in a crowded party or a quiet apartment, you have everything you need as long as you have each other.

#Paige Bueckers x Reader #Paige Bueckers imagine #Paige Bueckers fanfic #Paige Bueckers x you #UConn Women’s Basketball #womens basketball #uconn wbb #uconn x reader #wnba #paige bueckers

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suliigwp · 1 month ago

Text

I DESPISE MY ROTTEN MIND AND HOW MUCH IT WORSHIPS YOU

Oscar Piastri x Mean!Reader

SULI: Reader is the daughter of someone powerful in McLaren like a co-owner or sm idk go along with it please🫶 (ignore my obvious love for lando here) this is my first fic be nice ; I plan on part two ; I tried to speak around her name to not say y/n ; Olivia Rodrigo I bow down to you - stream 'Lacy'!

Warnings: reader is straight up a horrible person (kinda - this is my guilty pleasure), Toxic?, smoking, he just can't stay away, English is not my first language.

Lacy, oh Lacy, it's like you're out to get me.

Oscar Piastri was never one to particularly like audience. He didn't mind company, but preferred the comfortable whispers of silence of whom he learned calmness from. He tried to keep reminding himself that what people thought was not important, and what he did with his time was, but it was different this time.

Having just signed a contract with McLaren, he stood in a big room in his new dress-shirt, glass in hand, speaking to people involved with the team at a 'get-together' before the season started. Zak Brown and Lando Norris taking it upon themselves to introduce him to everyone. He had to make a good impression.

Eventually they introduced him to the small group of people owning the McLaren Formula 1 team and shaking their hands he cursed at himself silently for forgetting to wipe his hand on his pants, hoping his palm wasn't sweaty.

"I like how calm you are. Gives the sense of stability." Chuckled the man, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. "That's good. A driver making you feel steady straight on is exceptional."

"Thank you, Sir." He kept his answer short as he glanced down.

Oscar knew the truth. If anyone in this room was exceptional, it was Lando Norris. The teammate he needed to keep up with, the one he wanted to outrun, he didn't want the second seat, he wanted the first one and Oscar knew that wasn't an easy point to get to.

"I think it's time to change our driver dad. Really, how many times do I have to be late?"

Said a woman's voice behind the man, Oscar watched as the grey-haired man's face twisted into a warmer smile as he turned around.

"Darling!"

Some feeling went down Oscars frame. Warmth? Or was it freezing cold? He couldn't tell. Only thing he knew was that it wasn't a good feeling. The girl now in front of him shined off a feeling that he could only call whimsical. Dark but comforting, heavy but so easy to breathe in. Like something was warning him, stay away.

She nodded to everyone when they greeted her, smiling an off smile, eyes glancing at everyone and then landing on him. His consciousness shook.

"Darling, Meet Oscar Piastri. Our new driver." Oscar gave a soft smile and a nod, offering his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

She took his hand and shook it slowly, looking him up and down, darkly painted lips twitching upwards. "I've heard a lot about you, Oscar."

Oscar blinked away, slowly taking his hand from hers, offering another soft smile, not knowing what else to say.

As the talk around them picked up again, he never lost that heavy feeling. The weight of her eyes pushing down on him as he continued trying to breathe.

...

"Breathe Man, you're doing fine." Landos voice comforted him as they got away from the scariest circle in the room.

Oscar took in a large breath as he put down his finished cup on one of the small tables around the room. Looking at his teammate as he laughed. "Shut up."

"Sorry, sorry, I would be this sweaty too if she looked at me like that."

"What?" He turned to the curly haired man.

"What? You're kidding right? You caught the eye of one of the most scary people here." The man chuckled, leaning on the table.

"Scary?"

Lando raised a brow at him. "Do you only know how to ask one word questions?" And shook his head teasingly when Oscar gave him a deadpan look. "Depending on who you ask, She's not a very pleasant person. That's how dumb people think, I think she's awesome." He smiled.

Oscars brows furrowed, that feeling came back. "Why would people think that?"

"Ah, long story... To say it short she was an intern at some event, she leaked a private recording of some executive making corrupt comments. She didn’t go to the press. She posted it herself with zero warning. It exposed real corruption—but it also broke dozens of NDAs, compromised trust with an entire network of professionals, sparked a scandal, you know? People got fired. Security got tighter. She didn't really care but... A lot of people lost their jobs so..." He trailed off.

"...oh" Oscar muttered, looking back at the glowing figure behind him, he couldn't really tell if that glow was white or as dark as a black hole.

"That's the main thing, she doesn't really like staying quiet about things, she's brave, I could never." Lando muttered the last part under his breath, bringing a drink to his lips.

Oscar watched her as she ran her fingers through her hair and looked at him, the dark pencil around her eyes pulling him in. She smiled and looked back at the men in front of her.

He felt dizzy.

...

"Too pretty to be caught up in all of this, don't you think?"

He jumped a bit when he heard her voice, whipping around to face her, and for a second, he's speechless.

"I'm just... trying to enjoy the night." He muttered, trying to gather himself.

"I'm sure you are... Don't worry about my father, he likes putting a lot of pressure on everyone but, he really likes you." She said, smiling as she looks over him again.

Oscar cleared his throat, not knowing what to say. She chuckled "See you around." She called out as she walked away.

...

2023 BAHRAIN QUALIFICATIONS

She was reviewing something on her tablet, tucked into a far corner of the garage where no one would bother her. The usual flurry of team personnel moved around like clockwork—headsets, data, tires, noise. She liked the noise. It drowned out everything else.

Oscar had spotted her, but only because she looked like a fixed point in a sea of chaos—calm and sharp. He froze 'she's here?' He almost starts shaking. He wasn't trying to bother her. Just grabbed a bottle of water and stood near her, needing a quiet corner himself.

She glanced at him smirking to herself and going back to her screen, thinking he didn't see her.

"Oscar!" Someone shouted out suddenly, carrying out the garage. Oscar, startled, whipped around—smacking his water bottle right into the edge of a tool cabinet.

The cap flew off. The water went all over his shirt.

Her mouth dropped open.

He looked down at himself. Wet shirt. Clinging fabric. Silence.

She raised an eyebrow.

"...well," he said, monotone. "This is deeply unfortunate."

That did it. She laughed. Not loud, but real—like something cracked in her, like she'd been holding it in for years. It startled her more than him. She even looked away like she hadn’t meant for it to slip out. Holding a hand over her mouth.

He grinned slowly. That heavy feeling when he looked at her was gone. That voice. Her laugh. God, was she casting a spell on him? He hoped she knows a million spells “Is that my reward for humiliating myself?”

She didn’t respond. But she didn’t go back to her tablet, either.

...

It was after qualifying. Chaos had simmered down in the garage. She hadn’t meant to linger—but she did. Arms crossed, sitting on a crate that clearly wasn’t meant for sitting. Watching.

Oscar was standing alone for a second. Helmet off, suit unzipped to the waist, undershirt damp with effort. He was flipping through something on a monitor, lips pressed, jaw tight.

She studied his side profile. Pretty. So pretty. She spoke before she could stop herself. “You looked pissed after Q2.”

He turned, brows lifted, clearly surprised she was talking to him. “Did I?”

She hummed. “You stomped past the cameras like they insulted your mum.”He laughed softly, quiet. Gosh, is he testing her?

“Guess I need to work on that poker face,” he said.

“No,” she replied coolly. “It was entertaining.”

He gave her a look, half amused, half curious. She's fun to be around. People don't know what they're talking about...right? “You always hang around garages just to roast drivers?”

“Just the ones with weak qualifying laps,” she said, then smirked.

He blinked, taken aback for half a second and then grinned. “Okay, now I know you’re flirting.” immediately regretting it, heat rising up his neck.

She raised a brow, surprised at his boldness “I don’t flirt.”

“That’s what all good flirts say.”

She rolled her eyes but chuckled. For a few moments, they just stood there in the humming silence of the paddock. Not much said. But she noticed how his fingers tapped against the table. How he kept glancing at her like he was trying to figure her out.

He's so soft, so quiet, beautiful... And oh, did she love breaking pretty things. They start talking regularly after that day.

...

Oscar hadn’t meant to find her.

He was just looking for some quiet during the chaos of a post-qualifying press circuit. The hotel was packed, the lobby was louder than the paddock. So he slipped through a door that led to a narrow balcony, needing a breath.

She was already there.

Leaning on the railing, cigarette in hand. The night was velvet dark and gold-lit, and the glow of the cherry cast her face in an almost cinematic silhouette. She didn’t look at him right away. Just exhaled slow, smoke dancing around her like flames. He froze for a second.

Everyone had whispered things about her. Harsh. Cold. Dangerous, even. But standing there, her shoulder blades rising and falling with each breath, she looked more like someone who’d built her armor carefully and wore it heavily.

She finally glanced over her shoulder. “Lost, golden boy?” He blinked, not sure whether to answer or leave.

“You can stay,” she added after a beat, tapping ash off the side with a flick that said she didn’t really care either way.

He leaned on the opposite end of the railing, giving her space. “Didn’t know you smoked.” He muttered awkwardly, tapping his finger on the glass.

“You didn’t know me,” she said. Not cruel. Just matter-of-fact.

He looked at the skyline instead of her. “Guess I still don’t.”

She smirked, finally looking at him. “Smart boy.”

The silence hung, comfortable and strange. That feeling is back, he thinks, but it's different this time, it doesn't bother him, maybe he's gotten used to it. Then she offered the pack toward him without looking. Not really asking. Just holding it in his direction.

"No, thank you." He didn’t take one. But he didn’t leave either.

And she didn’t say a word about it. She just smoked her cigarette and let him share her quiet, the way someone might hand over a piece of themselves without even knowing they did.

She lit a second cigarette. Oscar watched her. “I don’t smoke often,” she said suddenly, voice quieter now. “Only when I feel like I’ll explode otherwise.”

He glanced at her, brows pulled slightly. “Bad day?”

She laughed, low and bitter. “Bad life, maybe.”

He didn’t smile at that, didn’t make it a joke. Just nodded like he understood. Like he wasn’t afraid of that edge she lived on. “I get it,” he said. “I don’t smoke, but… I’ve had days like that. Where it feels like if one more person asks how I’m feeling or tells me to smile for the camera, I’ll just—” He made a vague exploding gesture with his hands.

She looked at him. Really looked. “You don’t seem like the explode type.”

He shrugged. “I hide it better than you.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. Oscar lost his breath for the way the lights from the hotel hit her “So there’s a version of you that screams and throws things?”

“Maybe not throws. But I’ve thought about it,” he said, smiling now.

She grinned, soft but surprised. “Huh. Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought.”

He blinked, she's been thinking about him? He gave her a look. “You thought I was boring?”

“I thought you were safe,” she corrected, a little too honest. “And I hate safe.”

“Maybe you just don’t trust safe.”

That landed a little too hard. She went quiet, fingers tightening around her cigarette.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “That was... too much.”

But she didn’t get mad. She just looked out at the skyline again. “No. You’re not wrong.” putting the poison to her lips.

A long silence stretched between them, something warm and brittle. A truce.

Then she glanced sideways and muttered, “Still not taking a cigarette?”

He shook his head.

She exhaled smoke toward the stars. “Golden boy.” And she didn’t say it like an insult.

...

After that night on the balcony, the air between them shifts just a little. Next race week, she walks past him in the paddock. Doesn’t say anything at first, just shoots him a knowing look. He offers a tiny smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes unless he means it. This time, he means it.

As she's about to turn the corner, he calls after her quiet, but clear.

"Hey."

She stops. Looks over her shoulder.

He walks up, a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. The golden baby hairs at the nape of his neck catching light. “I figured... if you ever need someone to talk to. Or not talk to. Just… stand around and keep quiet next to you.” A soft laugh. “I’m good at that.”

She eyes him, chin tilted, unreadable. Then, after a pause, pulls her phone from her back pocket and hands it to him without a word.

He takes it, surprised but not stupid enough to question it, and enters his number first name and a little racecar emoji. Hands it back.

“What should I save you as?” he asks.

She smirks, plucking the phone back. “Don't worry golden boy, you'll figure it out.”

That night, he gets a text.

New contact added...

...

The garage had quieted, the roar of engines long since faded, replaced by the low mechanical murmurs of winding-down systems and the occasional clang of tools being packed up. Overhead lights cast long shadows, soft and golden against the cool gray of concrete floors and carbon fiber. Most of the team had cleared out, only a few stragglers remained, their voices echoing faintly from the far end.

She sat on the edge of a workbench, one leg crossed over the other, ankle bouncing lazily. Her lips were parted slightly, gloss smudged from biting the inside of her cheek. She was dressed sharply as always, but the sharpness dulled in this quiet hour, jacket shrugged halfway off, strands of hair falling messily from where she’d tucked them behind her ears.

Oscar was leaning against the wall opposite her, helmet in hand, still suited up. His curls were messy with sweat and humidity, cheeks flushed faintly from the day’s heat. He looked tired but content, relaxed in a way she’d only seen when no one else was around. They’d been talking for a while, longer than either of them intended.

He'd made her laugh. Really laugh, something startled and unguarded, a sound that cracked out of her like lightning. It silenced them both for a moment. She blinked at him, stunned, as if she'd just let something important slip out.

"What?" he’d said, smiling crookedly.

"You made a joke," she replied, feigning horror. “I thought you were the serious one.”

“I have layers.”

“Like an onion.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

And she laughed again, quieter this time, but closer to him. The distance between them had been shrinking all evening, physically and otherwise. Every time she leaned in to say something, her perfume wrapped around him like a whisper. Every time she pushed his shoulder or smirked at him, he had to fight the instinct to reach back.

Now, the air between them hung heavy, still. She stared at him. He stared back.

Then she uncrossed her legs and hopped lightly down from the bench, stepping closer, too close. Her chest brushed his arm, her fingers lightly skimming the fabric of his sleeve, a touch so casual it felt intentional.

“You’re not as boring as you look,” she said, voice lowered just slightly, eyes darting to his mouth for the briefest second.

He huffed a laugh, lips curling up, but his heart was thudding in his chest. “You always flirt by insulting people?”

“Only with special ones."

The words landed between them like a strike. His gaze dropped to her lips. Hers flicked to his. He leaned forward a little. She tilted her head, fractional movements, both of them holding their breath. Her hand was still on his arm, nails lightly brushing the fabric.

It would take nothing, just one more inch, one more second, for them to close the distance.

And then—

“Oscar!”

They flinched apart like they'd been caught. He stepped back, blinking fast. Her hand dropped. The moment splintered like glass under pressure.

She tried to brush it off. “Guess they still need you,” she said, recovering faster than he did, but her voice was quieter now. Her walls didn’t go all the way back up, but the door was closing.

He nodded slowly, trying to smile but not quite managing it. “Yeah… I guess they do.”

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

Until he turned away, slow and heavy-footed. And even as he walked toward the voices calling his name, his mind stayed behind, with getting the taste of her so close he could’ve sworn he still felt her breath against his cheek.

...

You poison every little thing that I do

“Watch out for her, mate. She’s not someone you want to get too close to.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a little surprised by the caution in Lances voice. “What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely curious. He’s seen the way her boldness and confidence have always left him on edge, but he’s never really thought of her as dangerous, at least not in any serious way.

“She’s... got a reputation,” the driver says, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s listening. “People say she’ll use anyone to get what she wants. Doesn’t care who she steps on. And the rumors she spreads? She’s good at making people believe them. She gets inside your head, makes you question everything.”

Oscar feels a knot tighten in his stomach. That feeling is back. The warning stirs something in him. He’s seen her as this intriguing force, someone who’s always had a way of challenging everyone, pulling him in. But this doesn’t sound like the woman he’s been getting to know.

“Who exactly is saying all this?” Oscar asks, trying to keep his tone light, but there’s an edge of doubt creeping in.

Lance looks away, his expression turning serious. “It’s not just one person. Ask around, Oscar. You’ll hear the stories. She’s not someone you want to be mixed up with.”

Later that night, unable to shake the warning, Oscar starts digging. He asks a few more people, cautiously at first, but it doesn’t take long before the whispers start pouring in. Everyone seems to have an opinion on her. some avoid her entirely, others just don’t trust her. But the more Oscar hears, the darker the picture gets.

Rumors swirl about her—how she manipulates situations, uses her beauty to get people to do what she wants, and how she’s torn apart friendships and relationships in the past. Stories about her spreading lies and causing chaos are repeated again and again. It’s clear now: She isn’t just a woman who plays by her own rules; she plays with people’s lives like they’re chess pieces.

Oscar’s heart sinks as the weight of the reality settles over him. He thought he saw something good in her, something worth fighting for. But now, it feels like he’s been blinded by his attraction to someone who’s far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

The realization hits him hard, and as he stands in the middle of the paddock, the buzz of the race weekend around him, he’s left with a choice: walk away from this whirlwind he’s been caught in... or keep going, despite knowing the truth.

...

He’s lying in bed. Lights off, the room silent except for the low hum of the hotel air conditioning. But Oscar can’t sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, it’s her face he sees.

The way she looked at him on the balcony. The softness in her voice when she said his name. The smirk when she caught him staring too long. But now all he can hear is “You don’t want to get too close to her.”

He turns onto his side, frustrated. Grabs his phone off the nightstand. Just a peek. Just something to quiet the noise in his head.He types her name into the search bar.

Big mistake.

The results hit like a slap: headlines from glossy tabloids, anonymous gossip blogs, F1 forums with threads full of theories and rants. And then… videos. Short clips from events, shaky footage of her arguing with someone in a VIP lounge, walking out of a gala, stone-faced while a woman behind her is crying. Tweets calling her manipulative. Reddit threads filled with speculation and story after story from “insiders.”

“She said I was irrelevant to my face.”

“She told my friend she wasn’t pretty enough to date an F1 driver.”

“She leaked that PR scandal before the team could control it. I know it was her.”

He scrolls. He reads. He watches. Each new click feels worse than the last, but he can’t stop. He’s consumed.

And then he finds a post -long, detailed. An anonymous user claiming they knew her personally. It’s brutal. Cold. A timeline of friendships destroyed, opportunities taken by force, people she "exposed" for things no one was ever supposed to know. Some things might be exaggerated. But others… they line up.

He sits there in the dark, lit only by the glow of his screen, the sick feeling in his stomach growing stronger. He should block her. Forget her. Walk away. But he doesn't. He still wants to see that smirk again.

...

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. They weren’t even officially friends at first. Just two people orbiting the same space, brushing past each other between interviews and paddock chaos, trading a look here, a quiet nod there. But something shifted slowly, then all at once.

It started with the laughing.

It wasn’t loud or wild. Just soft moments, shared glances, little jokes muttered under their breath when no one else could hear. Oscar had a way of drawing out a laugh she hadn’t used in years. Not the sharp, cynical kind she usually wielded like a weapon, but something warmer. Something reluctant. Genuine. She started looking for him, tracking the way his shoulders shook slightly when he tried not to smile too wide.

He made her feel… human again.

And somehow, despite her walls, despite the rumors and the carefully sculpted exterior she showed to everyone else, she started letting him see her. Really see her.

Late night texts turned into voice notes. Voice notes into video calls. She sent him songs without lyrics that said everything she didn’t know how to. He sent her blurry photos of the sky, his cat, his face half-hidden by the sun behind him, each one followed by a soft, “Thought you’d like this.”

In the paddock, he walked a little slower when she was around. She leaned closer when he talked. There were days when their shoulders brushed and neither of them moved away. Nights when they found each other on balconies, sharing secrets like confessions, smoke curling through the quiet between them.

He never pushed. Never asked for more than she was willing to give. And she hated how much she liked that.

There was a moment, a stupid, tiny moment, when she realized it had gone too far. He had made her laugh so hard during a rain delay that her eyeliner smudged, and she’d reached to gently wipe her eyes, when she looked up, he was already watching her with that look. The kind of look that says, I’d follow you anywhere even if I knew I’d get hurt. And I don't know why.

She had to walk away then. Pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did. Every little thing mattered now.

The way he waited for her after media duties without ever saying why. The quiet way he’d ask if she was sleeping okay when her her eyes looked darker than usual. The time he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and didn’t make a big deal of it when she didn’t give it back.

And she let him in. Slowly. Recklessly.

He saw her, and she let him.

So when things changed, when his texts became shorter, his eyes colder, his laughter quieter around her, she felt it like a knife to the chest. She knew something had happened. Someone had told him something.

But before the silence, there had been this... almost. Like they were standing on the edge of something real, something wild and sacred. Like they were about to step into something neither of them could undo.

And now? Now he was slipping away.

And the worst part? She was starting to realize she cared.

More than she should have. More than she wanted to.

...

Lacy, Oh Lacy, I just loathe you lately

2023 JAPANESE GRAND PRIX

He was pulling away. She could feel it.

Oscar didn’t say anything outright, he was too polite, too careful for that. But she had always been good at reading tension, and lately, he’d been a damn novel of it. Shorter glances. Polite nods. No more waiting for her after interviews. No more inside jokes muttered under his breath.

It infuriated her.

Not because she needed his attention, she didn’t need anything. But because she let herself want it. Want him. And now he was acting weird. Distant. Like someone had whispered something in his ear that made him look at her differently.

So what did she do? She burned.

She stalked through the paddock like a storm cloud in heels. People whispered again when she passed, just the way she liked it. She leaned too close to Lando during a pre-race briefing, laughed too loud at something Charles said just as Oscar walked by. And when she caught Oscar’s eye across the garage, she tilted her head and smirked, sweet, dangerous, knowing. As he looked at her like a kicked puppy.

“You’re being horrible again,” Lando muttered, watching her from the side.

She popped her gum and said, “Am I?”

He wouldn’t say what was wrong? Fine. She’d make it worse. She showed up in the garage when she didn’t need to be there, lounging on the pit. She didn’t even look his way, not until he had to pass her. And then? A slow, calculated look up and down. One brow raised. Her lips curled like she was enjoying a private joke at his expense.

It was driving him insane. She knew it.

Every time she got a little too close to someone else, every time she smiled at the wrong guy for a second too long, Oscar's jaw clenched tighter. She caught it all. He never confronted her, never said a word—but she knew he was watching.

Good. Let him. Let him stew in whatever guilt or judgment he was choking on. If he wanted distance, fine, she’d give him a show. But underneath it all—beneath the smirks and the chaos—she was fuming.

Because he was pulling away And it was starting to hurt.

...

Oh, how he hates her lately.

He hates the way she smirks at other drivers, all flirt and fire and nothing left for him anymore. Hates how she doesn’t look at him like she used to, not with curiosity or teasing challenge, but like he’s a pawn that disappointed her. Like he’s beneath her now. A momentary lapse in her otherwise flawless taste.

He hates that she’s everywhere.

He hates that she leans too close to Lando, that her laugh rings out sharp and loud like a damn warning bell. Hates the way she struts into the paddock like she owns it, sunglasses hiding the eyes that used to meet his in stolen glances. Hates that she gets under his skin without even trying, because she’s not trying anymore, not with him.

But worst of all, He still wants her. Maybe even more now. This boiling need to touch her. This angry, uncontrolled want.

Still finds himself glancing over his shoulder in case she’s there. Still hears her voice echo when he tries to focus. Still checks his phone at night, half hoping, half terrified she’ll text.

He told himself to back away, convinced himself he had to. After everything he heard, after everything people warned him about her... he believed them. Tried to listen.

But she didn’t make it easy. She never did.

She’s turned cruel again. She’s turning heads and twisting knives and pretending he never mattered. Oscar is unraveling.

Because he can’t stop wanting the girl who now acts like she never wanted him at all.

...

And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

She’s laughing again. Louder this time. Her hand grazes the arm of someone else - he can't remember who, he doesn't care, she's touching someone else. Just to tempt him, make him snap. And it works.

Oscar doesn’t even realize he’s walking toward her until she turns around, and raises a perfect brow at him. Her smile freezes.

God how she missed looking into those eyes. “Can I help you, golden boy?” she asks, sugary venom dripping from every syllable.

He grabs her arm and pulls her away, not harshly, but firm. Behind the garage. Out of sight. He's breathing heavily. Her heels clack on concrete until they’re alone.

Letting go of her hand, he turned to her, chest rising and falling “Are you done?” he asks, voice low, sharp.

She leans back on one hip, lips curling as she takes in the way he's shaking. “With what?”

“With whatever the hell this is,” he snaps. “You being a nightmare to everyone and making it my problem.”

Her eyes flash, face falling. “I’m not your problem anymore, remember?”

“You never were my problem. You were-” He chokes on the words, throws his hands up. “You were something else. And now I don’t know what you are.”

“Oh, poor Oscar,” she mocks, stepping closer. Her voice dropping to a whisper, darkly painted lips casting a spell, he feels. “You get scared off by some rumors and now you can’t handle the consequences?”

“I trusted you!” he breathes out frustrated “And then you flipped a switch and started acting like I’m nothing.”

“You made me nothing first,” she snaps, suddenly too close, fire in her eyes. “You believed them. All of them. You didn’t even ask me.”

His jaw tightens. “Because I thought if any of it was true, even a little... I had to get out before..."

“Well,” she says, lifting her chin. “Guess what?"

The silence between them crackles. Breathing heavy. Hearts pounding. His eyes breathe her in. His head is buzzing, the world is is too light, or maybe she was too dark. He can't breathe, only breathe her.

“You’re a menace,” he mutters.

Her face holding a hidden pain only he notices “Took you long enough.”

And then, like fire catching on gasoline, he kisses her. Pressing his lips to hers harshly, her lips were so soft he needed to press harder to feel her, or maybe that's what his mind was telling him to rationalize wanting to get closer. More. More. Like he’s furious. Like he’s starved. Like he hates himself for it. His big arms come around her, one gripping her side and she melts into him, she kisses him back, just as angrily. Teeth, hands, a silent war with no winners. Her hands sliding into his hair, those golden strands she couldn't think about, the strands that had seamed her heart together without him even noticing. She pulled on it, bringing him closer, drawing out a soft groan from him and he pressed her body closer. She caught his lips between her teeth and pulling away, catching their breaths.

She watches him as he kept his eyes shut, creases on his face making him look so desperate, little whispers between breaths escaping him-

"-hate me. Why do you hate me-"

She grabs his face with her palms, her dark eyes sliding along his face, painting this image onto her brain.

"If there's anything in the world I don't hate, it's you, Oscar."

He lets out a shaky breath at her words and dropped his head on her shoulder.

...

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

Before the champagne, before the podium, before the trophy touched his hands - Oscar was already gone.

The second he crossed the finish line, engine cooling, helmet still on, the world around him exploded in cheers. His team was rushing over the barrier, pulling him into hugs, clapping his back, yelling his name into the chaos of victory.

But he wasn’t really there.

Helmet off, breath uneven, hair a mess, he turned. Eyes scanning wildly, past the cameras, the pit crew, the flashes.

There. Just out the garage. Arms crossed, watching him, expression unreadable.

But he knew her. Knew the tension in her jaw. Knew that if he got close enough, he’d hear her heart hammering under her calm.

He can't wait. He pushed past the clamor, weaving through people shouting his name. Someone tried to stop him, probably PR, but he brushed it off like static. None of it mattered. Not when she was there.

When he reached her, he didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just pulled her into his arms like he was starved for her. She stiffened only for a moment before melting into him, fingers tangling in the back of his suit. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, body trembling, not from exhaustion, but relief.

“Podium.” she whispered.

He nodded into her neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

And in that quiet moment, hidden in plain sight, before the cameras turned their gaze, Oscar Piastri let himself fall. Not from the high of victory, but into her. He can't stay away. He can't.

#f1 grid x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri imagine #op81 #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 x y/n #op81 imagine

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bad268 · 9 months ago

Note

Hi so I was just thinking about clingy Kimi after a bad race, like there was some sort of mechanical issue with his car and he gets back to the garage and starts clinging onto reader, just burying his face into reader’s shoulders or neck and doesnt say anything the whole time and when they get home, reader has homework or some other thing to do but Kimi just refuses to let go, idk how to continue but yeah

Not the Time (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Clingy Antonelli Universe

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I see the vision, hope you don't mind I made it part of Clingy Antonelli Universe)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1129

Summary: At least it was only testing...

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It was only testing. That’s what you tried to tell yourself. It was only testing, but that didn’t make the fact that the car was completely wrong any easier to watch. The first race was within a couple of weeks, and the number of problems was making your hope for a good season dwindle very quickly as Kimi came back into the pits with a smoking car. Mechanics stood by the pit box with fire extinguishers, just in case.

You had taken to hiding in his driver’s room for the duration of testing because you could only actively watch guys drive in weirdly shaped circles for so long, and there were only so many pictures you could take. Even if you were dating one of them, your tolerance was not that high. You were working on your laptop and casually listening to the F1TV broadcast of the session when they started gasping and talking about how a Mercedes was smoking. That’s what caused you to look up just as the cameras panned to Kimi jumping out of the car and disappearing into the garage. You knew he would be in his driver’s room within seconds, so you muted the TV and set your laptop aside just as Kimi walked through the door.

He stood there momentarily, still in his helmet, before he closed the door and locked it. You stood up to meet him as you helped him take off his racing gear. Even from the little bit you had seen from his car, you could tell he wasn’t getting back in for the rest of the day. You handed him a plain t-shirt and sweatpants and directed him to the ensuite so that he could take a shower. You knew this would make him feel at least a little better. While he was in the shower, you made a quick Instagram post detailing that he’ll be back stronger tomorrow.

You didn’t know if that was true, but it was the optimistic approach. You would check in with Toto later after Kimi was feeling a bit better. You grabbed your laptop to continue editing some pictures from the day, and about halfway through the SD card, Kimi came back out. His hair was dripping onto his white shirt, but he made no moves to try and dry it. He just walked up to you, moved your laptop, and sat with his legs across your lap with his head on your shoulder.

You knew he wouldn’t want to talk, so you just patted his head before leaning your head against his while you rested your other hand on his legs. You could feel tears falling on your neck every once in a while, and it broke your heart, knowing there was really nothing you could do to make him feel better about this situation. You knew that the best thing you could do was be here for him, and when he was ready to leave, you would find a quick exit.

You waited until you felt his breathing even out before gently reaching to grab your laptop from the table. There was still work to be done, and it wasn’t going to finish itself. You barely lifted your hand from his leg before you felt Kimi shifting around again.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were asleep,” You said in a soft tone, gently turning your had to look at Kimi, who was already looking up at you. “You can go back to sleep. We won’t be able to get out of here any time soon.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” He muttered back as he rubbed his face against your shoulder, closing his eyes again. “Just don’t want you leaving me.”

“I wasn’t trying to leave,” You replied with a light laugh, running your fingers through the curls at the back of his head. “I was grabbing my laptop. I still have pictures to edit for Mercedes.”

“That counts,” He sighed.

“How does that count as leaving?” You chuckled in confusion as you turned your body as much as you could to see him. “I was just trying to get some work done.”

“Your attention wouldn’t be on me,” He said, barely audible.

“Oh, do you just want attention right now?” You question with a small smile. “You always have my attention, amore (love).”

“Not when you’re working,” He groaned as he turned his body so he was practically in your lap as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “Can I just stay here for a while?”

“I need to work sometimes, Kimi,” You chuckled again, but when Kimi hid in your shoulder again, you let out a breath and dropped it. “We can stay here as long as you want. We can also sneak out to the hotel somehow. I can get the car or have Toto get someone to bring it around.”

“No, I just wanna stay here,” Kimi sighed again as he melted in your hold. “Just stay here, in your arms, until everyone leaves. I don’t wanna face anyone. Not yet.”

“Okay, we won’t go anywhere, I won’t work, and I’ll be here until you want to talk,” You comforted, running a hand across the span of his back.

“Can we turn the session off?” Kimi asked as he pulled back a little. “I don’t need to hear what else I could have done to save the session. The engine was on fire! I don’t know what they expected me to do!”

“You pulled off, and that was the only thing you could do,” You reasoned as you turned the session off. You changed it to a random sports game that was playing. “You’re the driver, Kimi. There was only so much you could do, and pulling off the road was the safest way for all of the drivers, including yourself.”

“It doesn’t feel like the right thing to do when they say things like that,” Kimi groaned. “I’m not ready for this. Maybe everyone was right, and I wasn’t ready for F1. It’s not even the racing part I’m contemplating. It’s everything they’re saying about me. Those commentators are brutal.”

“They don’t know you, Kimi,” You pressed as you pulled his face away from your neck to look at him. “They’re just speculating on people they know nothing about, and they’re saying things to stir the pot.”

“It’s hard sometimes,” He muttered, diverting his eyes. “Now’s just not the time.”

“You don’t need to worry about them right now,” You comforted, giving him a brief kiss. “Right now, we’re not focusing on what everyone else is saying. We’re gonna focus on you getting back in the winner mentality. You’ll show them what you can do in due time once you get the car underneath you working.”

~~~

Series masterlist

~~~~~

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bunny-jpeg · 11 months ago

Note

mille-fuelle (idk how the fuck to spell it) with a side of vodka shot pls! make it verstappen pls!

the bakery menu!

there is still tons of sweet treats on the menu at the bakery! submit your own order!

mill-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + vodka shot (rough sex) served to you by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rough sex, praise kink, (loosely) translated dutch, handcuffs/bondage, (low) doggy style, (slight) dom/sub

the off season was tiring. despite it being the off season. most used it as a chance to catch up on much needed sleep or go on a vacation. some even just laid in bed for the first week of the off-season to just relax.

you and max had different plans.

after the first week of the off season, max had turned of his phone and put it on the dining table, to be left there for a day or two. you did the same, telling your friends and family that you and max were going on a boat trip for a few days.

you didn't want anyone to worry, especially when you knew that you'd be limping by the end of your little escapade. sparse visits over the year have left you both painfully pent up, it felt like over the season the only time you two saw one another was for cute photo-ops, there was very little room for intimacy between your career and his. so the off-season, nothing else mattered except for scratching that itch.

max made sure that you got a meal in you, he wasn't going to neglect your needs because he needed to get his cock wet. he even took the lead and made you breakfast (he really did miss you). While the eggs were perfect, the bacon was a little more crispy than you liked it.

"it's amazing." you giggled as you took another bite. max lingered against you like a shadow, his arm slung around you as he kissed at your neck a little. you turned your head to look at him and he kissed you on the lips.

"i'm excited."

you reached to him and cupped his face, then looked into his blue eyes, "well, hold your horses, i have a surprise for you." and then let go of him so you could quickly finish.

you didn't see max's curious expression at the surprise you had for him. he still followed you while you cleaned up, those large hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. you could feel his clothed erection up against your backside,

"so what's the surprise?" he asked as he held you as you put the plate in the drying rack.

you looked over your shoulder and leaned in to kiss him, then said, "surprise, verstappen." once you were done cleaning up, he followed you into the bedroom.

you apologized to the cats as you closed the door to the room. you could tell that max was getting antsy, why wouldn't he be? he had another stellar season but at the cost of being away from his woman.

"mooi meisje, waarom laat je me wachten?" he asked softly as he sat on the bed you two shared. his cock was pressed against the front of his loose shorts.

you turned away from him and went to your underwear drawer, as you dug around in it you responded, "omdat sommige verrassingen de moeite waard zijn om geheim te houden."

he sighed through his nose, his cock throbbed in his pants. dutch may not be the most sensual language, but he cursed the day that he decided to painstakingly teach you the language. it was almost like second nature to you, and it made his heart beat faster. he leaned back on his hands and watched you pull out a pair of Velcro wrist restraints.

using handcuffs seemed a little cliche, and the idea of losing the key and having to figure out how to get max out of them wasn't something you were interested in. they were softer around the wrists and easier to get out of.

"liefde?" he asked with a bit of concern.

you approached him and placed them in his lap, "if you don't want to try it, then say it. if you want to, tell me." you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

his face felt hot as he said, "i'm guessing you're wearing them?"

you smiled, "next time you can wear them." and could feel your boyfriend's burning gaze as you got out of your sleeping clothes. which was honestly just a ratty red bull t-shirt and slightly too big sleeping shorts. your sports bra and panties were off as well and when you looked at max once more, he had his shirt off and his cock in his hand. his shorts were pushed down and his gaze was heavy.

"you look good." he said, his words heavy on his tongue.

you came of and straddled his waist for a moment, his cock brushed against your pussy but you never sank down on it. you could see his jaw tense.

you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a tender kiss. you felt his hands on your hips, he was threatening to pull you right down on his cock. the kiss quickly parted and you got up from his lap and onto the bed. max was close to you once more with teh cuffs in hand.

"i guess we need a safe word."

you were already one step ahead, "red bull."

he got you onto your hands and knees on the bed and slowly got your arms behind your back. it was then secured by the cuffs. max could've lost it in that moment, the site of you was erotic. his naked girlfriend with her arms tied behind her back. he couldn't wait any longer, it was driving him up the wall.

he got his shorts full off and his hand on your hip. it wasn't hard for him to sink his entire length into your aching cunt. he held the chain that connected both of the cuffs to the center of your back, you weren't going anywhere.

you groaned when you felt his cock deep in your cunt, the stretch was amazing. while it left you a little tender for days after, it was the type of ache that stirred your stomach.

the sex was rough, there was little tenderness. and max at least tried to be romantic when he pleasured you, but this carnal need was driving both of you. your heart thumped in your chest, the rush of pleasure made your head throb.

his pace was quick and feral, his grip was tight on you. he wanted to make sure you didn't go slipping away. as if you ever would. he ran his fingers through his hair while he still held you down. he could feel the sweat on his body begin to form as the bedroom became hotter.

the morning light shined through the open window as the two of you fucked with a hot passion. it felt like striking hot iron with the sparks that scattered as a result.

"that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl." he panted heavily in your ear as he kissed your temple. you moaned in response and he pressed his nose into your hairline for a moment as he had you practically bouncing on his cock.

you whined, "shit, max, ah!" each thrust felt like a short circuit to your brain. his words were filthy, his voice was hot and low. you could feel him rearrange your guts.

the bed creaked against the wall and you felt the air leave your lungs. sometimes it drove you crazy how intensely max's cock made you feel. before sex was just a fun past time with a partner, but with max is made you ache inside and out.

he rutted up into you, his cock gave a small twitch inside of you. he could hear you sweet little pants and moans into the covers. you looked like a fucking dream, his beautiful girl.

"you're so good for me, my love." he groaned, "you feel so fucking tight around me and i don't know what to do with myself. you drive me mad. i want you all the time." he panted heavily, "it was all i could think of during the races, your tight pussy around my cock. i always wondered if i could get you to fit in the car with me, bounce you on the my cock while the engine rumbled. you'd like that, wouldn't you, slet."

you swallowed, while the idea was probably unrealistic, the thought of it was rather erotic. the almost claustrophobia of being so close to him in a tight space.

you didn't have to respond for him to say, 'i know you'd hate it, right? because you're my good right, correct?"

you nodded and moaned a little louder as you felt the thrill of lust climb through your body. you squirmed under the restraints, it was a little bit of tension on your shoulders but it did make you core ache. you panted dumbly against the covers as he fucked you with a heavy heat.

"pretty fucking little thing." he growled as he pushed your top half further into the soft mattress. the angle gave him the best place to cram his heavy cock into your sweet cunt.

you felt the moans fold off your tongue as you felt the pleasure capture you whole and climax crashed down on you. it felt like your earth was shattered when it grabbed hold. you whined, "holy shit, max."

he chuckled and felt the wetness between your legs only grow more, he doubled down his thrusts and left you totally pinned under him. he rutted into you like an animal in heat, even as your pathetic little moans rang in his ear.

"honey, ah. that's a good girl. fuck you're mine." he groaned as he bottomed out into you. his cock nudged against your cervix and spat cum against it. while made your back arch.

"fuck." you panted.

he pulled out and quickly, without much through took off the cuffs. he took you in his arms and laid down beside you, spooning you. his larges hands massaged your wrists. even though they didn't hurt.

he peppered the back of your neck with kisses. so loving, so kind despite how rough he was moments earlier. max worshiped you, praised you like the sun.

"my beautiful girl." he sighed contently.

"the cuffs felt good." you responded, your legs tangled in his.

he kissed under your ear and said quietly in your ear, "maybe next time i need to tie you up fully." he chuckled a little as he held you in his arms.

it was good to be home. <3

#bunny writes #the bakery #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one smut #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max smut #max verstappen x you

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lavendernhoney · 1 year ago

Text

Rewatching season one has been so interesting for analyzing Penelope and Colin. First of all I forgot what a good friend Penelope was to Marina (before publishing about her pregnancy…) and how hard she tried to dissuade her from tricking Colin.

Their conversation is so interesting though. Marina says that Colin is not interested in Penelope because he sees her the same way he sees his younger sisters, not implying he sees her in a familial way, but that he sees her as still being a girl. AND SHES RIGHT. And this isn’t a case of Colin being oblivious to his feelings- she does come off so much younger than the other debutants. From her shyness to her fashions to her makeup. I actually think the costume and makeup is purposeful to make her look as young as possible. Colin IS clearly fond of Penelope. He KNOWS he’s fond of Penelope.

So then I think of “I would never dream of courting her” or “you do not count you are Pen” and like. I get it. Yes it was not considerate to her but if MY younger sisters friend looked and acted similarly young I also would be like “that’s a kid not a woman” ya know.

It’s also really interesting to me the kinda reoccurring theme in Bridgerton about how women in the society find ways to take agency of their lives. From main characters to barely mentioned widows- it comes up near constantly. I think pre season 3 Penelope felt completely helpless in society. She felt she had no agency, that all she could do was stand by and hope to be noticed. All of her desire for agency and attention is poured into Whistledown. Or out through Whistledown? Anyway basically the second she takes some agency of her life outwardly Colin (as well as other members of society) are quick to pay her more attention. Like yes the clothes and hair and makeup helped but those are just ways to show her inner attitude has shifted.

So Colin is always fond of her (very openly, he’s really so sweet in season 2 until the very end), but the MOMENT she signals a shift in her attitude and intentions he’s like wait 👀 this is a woman. A beautiful woman. A woman I love talking to.

Idk I think we should give Colin more credit. Like Penelope may have known she liked Colin sooner, but neither of them were REALLY ready before.

#polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #I’m at the airport at 4 am sorry if this is incoherent #I’m not rereading it to find out

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pshbites · 8 months ago

Text

enhypen as pro athletes

genre ⇢ reactions, imagines, wtv u wanna call it

wc ⇢ 200 ish per member ? idk

warning(s) ⇢ profanity, loll smth else?

taglist ⇢ @wensurr @nshmurarki @blvengene @sirens-dreams @mimismenu

a/n : erm i should be studying for my chem exam but that can wait 🙈

if you liked this please be sure to reblog and like this! feedback is always apreciated <3 and join my perma taglist here

HEESEUNG… basketball player

- major troy bolton vibes

- he’s got tunes AND hoops

- god forbid you’re at a park and he sees a court

- “this one’s for you baby!!” *misses*

- all jokes aside he has that nba player aura to him

- DEFFF a d1 college athlete who then went pro

- always blowing a kiss to you in the crowd

- TROOOOYYYYYYYYYY

- he would try teaching you how to play but then get frustrated because he’s so passionate

- he’s just good at basketball and he can sing that’s what he brings the table that’s all he got!!!!

JAY… f1 driver

- lol did i give my bias my fav sport… MAYBEEE

- lewis hamilton and max verstappens love child

- oh and he’s a red bull driver

- fashion ICON. always pulling up in the paddock best dressed

- serves cunt on the streets

- he would be a menace whenever you two go go karting.. leaving you in the dust i fear

- you’ll never catch him below p5

- those sassy radios

- you’ll always catch him being snarky on the grid and off the grid

- akshully, he would tweet like lewis in 2014

- “he’s sitting in the middle of the road doing nothing”

- always blowing a kiss to you when he’s on the podium

- the alchemy by ts “where’s the trophy and he just comes running over to me”

- oh he’s looking for you the second he’s out of that car

- he would single handedly bring back red bull dominance

- picturing jay in a red bull uniform.. it’s heavenly.

- sigh i need someone to write f1driver!jay

JAKE… soccer player

- this was a given

- HE PLAYS FOR REAL MADRID NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

- him & that team would get along tooooooo well

- constantly posting q&a on instagram

- this un media trained king

- always mentions you no matter what

- “how are you feeling for the next match?” “great.. so my gf-“

- first thing he’s doing after winning is pulling out his phone and filming

- “LIVE REACTION TO THE WINNING GOAL” and it’s a 25 sec clip of him and güler running around the field.

- his insta story is such a struggle to get thru bc it’s either clips of him and the team on the private jet or a ton of random ass q&as

- “what’s your plan for the next season?” “idrk but today i had waffles for breakfast 😍”

- his interviews are always the most entertaining bc he just says anything

SUNGHOON… hockey player

- this is because i can’t just do a freebie and give him ice skater 😞

- BUT HE DID PLAY FOR THE HOCKEY TEAM WHEN HE WAS LITTLE!!

- he’s not like the other hockey men tho, not overly aggressive

- he’s actually calm when he isn’t annoyed about losing

- one thing about him, he will drag it through the mud if he gets in the penalty box

- kicking ice and everything 😭

- lowk i see him as the teammate who isn’t very public with his personal life

- only time people see him smiling with 50 teeth is when he’s with u

- thinks of his job as more of a hobby

- “so what interested you in ice hockey!” “i was bored…”

- deffo plays for the national team

- just the most nonchalant person there

SUNOO… tennis player

- now hear me out

- blonde sunoo = art donaldson

- LIKE WOAHHHH!!!

- once again on the national team FOR SURE

- does not play when it comes to tennis (idk anything abt tennis 🤣)

- WILL huff and puff if it’s out

- SO sassy

- like side eye when they’re sipping water and changing rackets

- cannot play duos for the life of him

- but he’s GOOD

- nicest person ever out of the field tho

- interviewers love him because he knows how to appeal to fans

- cannot be mysterious for the life of him

- his insta posts are either him or pics of you AND him

- he actually hard launched you on his insta

JUNGWON… swimmer

- i mean,,, have u seen that body???

- the way he dances helps out a lot because he’s very flexible

- oh he’s for sure on the national AND olympic team

- i know a body of water hate to see him coming

- you two could be at the beach and suddenly he’s doing all this fancy shit

- likes to brag about how long he can hold his breath underwater

- like a child “look look! 30 seconds” like yes baby you go!!!

- his personality switches when he has a swim meet though

- literally rbf EVERYWHEREEEE

- the second he’s out of the water tho he’s back to normal

- unfortunately he isn’t a pr nightmare

- too media trained for his own good

RIKI… baseball player

- he’s gonna be eating that dodger dawg 25/8

- idk anything abt baseball so bear with me

- bro is locked in for every single game

- and you alr know he’s in the mlb (america RAHHHH)

- i think he’d play for the yankees

- riki belongs in nyc we know this

- a pr NIGHTMARE.

- his managers hate to see him coming bc he’s just doing anything

- “what do you think you could’ve improved in the last game?” “nothing i’m amazing shut up”

- he doesn’t take anyone’s bs

- not even his own teammates r safe from him

- his social media is full of goofy ass posts or posts that you collaborated with him on insta but it’s only aesthetic bc it’s from your page

- lowk i think he would occasionally posts those pics like he does on weverse like just insane amt of aura in one pic

- probably has a streaming account in this universe too

- “can we hurry this session up i have to stream at 7 😑”

- part time mlb player, full time twitch streamer actually

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johanna-swann · 2 months ago

Text

Okay, so this is going to sound very conspiracy theory like, but here's what I think happened (in regards to Bobby's death, Tommy being back, Eddie still not being back and a general outlook on season 9).

I think Tim Minear came back to the show, they moved to a different network, they churned out half a season somehow between multiple strikes and other adjustments. They put a lot of money into the opening disaster which worked and got fans excited. They peppered in soap opera style plot points throughout the rest of the season (wedding episode, Buck coming out, Doppelgänger plot, reintroducing Bobby's background, new Henren kid) because the fans care about the characters and what happens to them. There was barely any procedural in this drama throughout most of season 7, it was 90% the characters' personal drama they showed.

But people were willing to overlook this because at least all the characters had stuff going on and there were extenuating circumstances. Then season 8a rolled around. Once again they went big on the opening disaster, after that though?

Most of the plots introduced in season 7 were dropped immediately. Bobby was suicidal at the end of last season, he's fine in 8x01 though. The conflict between Eddie and Christopher is mentioned here and there, but we don't see Eddie working on his issues. Ortiz is defeated and written out of the show in the very first episode after the opening disaster. Athena gets her thriller plot in the opening disaster and then gets sidelined for the next idk how many episodes. Maddie and Chimney are barely main characters at all, they mostly just exist in the background. The only relevant plot they kept going was Bucktommy, but even they only got insubstantial comedy side plots until they were suddenly broken up. The mid-season finale was a huge let-down and there was barely anything interesting going on in the show anymore.

Here's where the conspiracy part begins: Without the distraction of at least one engaging plot to follow and the lack of new episodes coming in viewers started to notice that the show was treading water. Then the feedback started to trickle in and it wasn't good. I think that's when they decided that they really had to do something that would shake things up and change things permanently. They had already filmed the serial killer two parter though, so they only made small changes / additions (Buddie goodbye scene) and started to really write stories with a lasting impact again post 8x10.

Call me crazy, but I think they really didn't plan to bring Tommy back, not so soon and not as Buck's love interest. That's not what the interviews sounded like back in November. But then, only a few episodes after the break-up suddenly Tommy was back, they showed how both Buck and Tommy still have feelings for each other and literally made Buck say the words "I am not in love with Eddie". There will be no more "will they won't they" "queerbaity-ish" plots between Buck and Eddie, that conversation is over. They gave a nod to the fandom by bringing it up like "yeah, we see you" and at the same time let them down gently by saying "we're going another direction though". That is a very permanent decision for a show that doesn't like change. The way they keep bringing Tommy back, even when he's only mentioned, could very well also mean he's here to stay which means giving Buck, the resident perpetual bachelor, a permanent love interest. Another huge change.

The second thing they did was remove Eddie from the equation. Not completely, not permanently, not yet. But let me just throw the idea out there: What if this was a test run? A "let's not get rid of him just yet, let's see if we can manage without him first". So they sent Eddie to Texas. Finally did something with that plot, even if it was severely disappointing and made no sense. (The problem was that Eddie had issues he didn't work on and in the process hurt his kid and broke his trust. Then we see them in Texas, but suddenly Eddie's mom is the actual problem while Christopher is super chill around Eddie? When the last time we saw them speak to each other Christopher barely wanted to talk to Eddie? Make it make sense.) Anyway, Eddie still got his screen time, but they kept him firmly separated from the 118. Buck was on the phone with Eddie a few times, mostly so Eddie would have a scene partner who he could talk to openly, nobody else even mentioned Eddie. Bobby accidentally called Ravi "Eddie" twice, but I think that was more about Ravi feeling like maybe he doesn't belong rather than Bobby actually missing Eddie. So yeah, maybe this was a trial run to see if they can do season 9 without Eddie and so far I have to admit, I don't really miss him? I'm sure they could've worked him into the recent two parter, but they definitely didn't need him.

Third they brought back Ravi and this time everyone is happy to have him there. Buck tries to actually be his friend this time around, gets to be a mentor figure for him and Ravi has his small "maybe I'm not cut out for this" to "I'll commit domestic terrorism if that's what it takes" arc. 8x14 really cemented that Ravi is a part of the team and he chooses to be a part of this team. He's a pall bearer in Bobby's funeral for god's sake, he belongs to the 118 - a 118 that needs new members because they're losing at least one this season. So. Ravi main season 9?

Big change number 4 - Bobby's death. A main character death is a big, big stunt. If they decide they don't like Tommy for Buck after all, they can change their minds later. If they decide they want Eddie back, they can leave options open to bring him back later. Bobby's death? They can't walk that one back. Bobby and Buck are probably the most central characters for the firefam (Bobby as the patriarch and Buck as the link between all sides of the family) and Peter Krause is no small name on tv. This is not a move they would've pulled if they weren't committed to making drastic changes to a show that previously had come to a bit of a standstill. They want to change the very foundation of this show. If they're willing to kill off one of the main characters among main characters, what else are they willing to change? Some of the above? All of it?

The final piece is still very vague, but they also said they wanted to keep Athena connected to the 118 in a tangible way. People have suggested that May might become a firefighter, but tbh I don't think it would fit. She already was a part of the first responder network for an entire year and then decided to go to uni anyway. Athena went to uni and then decided to become a cop instead, May did it the other way around. Why would they change that again now? I think it's more likely that a) Harry graduates and applies to the academy or that b) they'll make May and Ravi a couple. The latter could also make sense if they're trying to keep the same amount and kinds of couples around. If Buck and Tommy really get back together and become a permanent fixture in the 911 universe, May and Ravi could be the new "will they won't they" couple who keep running into stupid hurdles because they're not sure what they're doing while Bucktommy slowly settle down.

Conclusion: Big changes are on the horizon for 911, they already vaguely teased that there may be cast changes other than just Peter Krause being gone for season 9. I think they decided that some major changes needed to happen during the winter hiatus and then talked about a few possibilities, tried some of them and are now ready to finalise those decisions. Maybe one of the reasons that filming is coming along so slowly is that they weren't sure yet which route to go, had to re-shoot scenes or filmed several versions to choose from. (There are soooo many stills that never showed up in an episode.) Idk, but what I do know is that there are a lot of possibilities for permanent change to choose from and they seem committed to actually go through with those changes this time.

#long post #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 critical #911 discourse #eddie diaz #bobby nash #ravi panikkar #bucktommy #athena grant

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redbullgirly · 1 year ago

Text

The Dancer [FA14 smau]

Fernando Alonoso x dancer!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Few months after, everybody laughs when they remember the rumors about Fernando Alonso and Taylor Swift dating. Would they laugh though if they new it maybe wasn't so far from truth as it may seem? Well, one thing's for sure - Y/N and Fernando will laugh very much while soft launching their relationship... and confusing everyone with swiftie content thanks to her job.

Warnings: Maybe wrong dates and timeline of The Eras Tour, but whatever XD.

messages between Y/N and Fernando

fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram

liked by alex_albon, zhouguanyu24, pierregasly and 562,109 others

fernandoalo_oficial I was taken by the view like we were in Paris... romance is not dead.

view all 4001 comments

user1 i dont think my brain can comprehend so many things all at once😨

user2 right? I'M IN SHOCK

user3 fr fernando wants to give us a heart attack😭

lilymhe I see what you did here...

alex_albon I indeed see what he did here too...😏

user4 guys tell us what he did pls I'm begging youuuu

user5 Alonso soft launching was not on my 2024 bingo card

user6 him soft launching with TAYLOR SWIFT wasn't on MY bingo card 😭

user7 How he's suddenly so hot in the first pic? Like damn sir okay🫢

user8 girlfriend effect is real y'all

georgerussell63 Mate you can't do that to me, I just woke up 😧

user8 lmfao princess georgie is as confused as we are xd

fernandoalo_oficial sorry mate, don't get wrinkles🤞

gerogerussell63 What even is that choice of emoji?

fernandoalo_oficial well, someone is original with an emoji and someone is original with a pose... choice is yours 😃

georgerussell63 Stop it's been almost a year 😭

user9 not them bullying each other💀

user10 Yeah the duo we didn't know we needed

user11 I saw the first picture and almost spat out my drink in shock of such a hot photo of Nando. Then I swiped and literally choked on it because the last think I'd ever expect from his photo dump is a soft lunch of some baddie girl🫣

user12 I am delusional for thinking Taylonso could still have a chance, aren't I?

user13 well i mean you basically answered it yourself so... yeah XD

user14 OMG WHAAAAAAT😱

user15 oh no Fernando is not single anymore💔

user16 I think I accidentally teleported into some alternative universe... what is thiiiis?

user17 REAL

user18 fuck me this man seriously used lyrics from paris by ts💀

user19 Idk why but I kinda like this new side of Fernando😻

twitter

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by taylorswift, fernandoalo_oficial, carmenmmundt and 5,234 others

tagged: taylorswift and 9 others

yourusername crazy performance, even crazier night out and the most crazy training the day after... I call that the life of a dancer😻🎉 also my head and heart did go vroom vroom after the second pic

view all 218 comments

taylorswift I call that the eras tour life!💗

yourusername yes ma'am!

user1 damn she got our queen Taylor replying to her posts... how does it feel to live my dream?!😭

yourusername amazing! 🥰

user2 such a shame my mum didn't force me to try dancing when I was little... I could have been at podium next to Taylor Swift right now 😃

liked by the author

user3 You are such a good dancer, the shows wouldn't be the same without you Y/N!

yourusername omg thank u sm I really appreciate that!!🥹

user4 sooo... are we gonna just ignore Fernando in the likes or what???

user5 THAT'S WHAT I CAME HERE TO SAY

user6 fr I need some crazy detective from twitter to figure this out😫

carmenmmundt Hey, could you give me and lilymhe vip tickets...?

yourusername I mean... everything can be done 😏 I'll just need to ask mother Taylor bc I just used my plus one at the last concert🫡

lilymhe OH MY GOD WE LOVE YOU Y/N

yourusername I love you girls as well, we have to finally meet sometimes!!!

carmenmmundt Yeah, I think we'll have chance at the end of February at the latest😉

user7 WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE

user8 Omg are they hinting Y/N at the Bahrain GP?? F1 season starts at the end of February right?!

goergerussell63 Well hello there, nice to meet you Y/N... given the fact my dear girlfriend doesn't care about me, could you give me and alex_albon vip tickets as well?😊

alex_albon Yeah Y/N we are very big fans😊

yourusername everything for the guys that go vroom vroom🫡

alex_albon Like your heart

yourusername exactly!

user9 I AM FREAKING OUT

user9 MY BRAIN HURTS FROM HOW MUCH IS GOING ON

user9 WAIT FUCK I THINK I GOT IT

user9 AAAHHH I FEEL LIKE SHERLOCK MF HOLMES

twitter & messages between Y/N and Fernando

yourusername posted on instagram

liked by selenagomez, fernandoalo_oficial, francisca.cgomes, astonmartinf1 and 8,234 others

yourusername preparing for the next season🤞

view all 1,029 comments

user1 y/n is literally living my dream life rn

georgerussell63 Oh no... he infected you with that emoji, didn't he?

yourusername we'll never know... maybe I infected HIM with it

gourgerussell63 I think higher of you and your taste in emojis

yourusername aww thanks princess georgie how sweet🥰

georgerussell63 I take it back

user2 HELLO?! what is happening💀

dancer1 excuse me little miss y/n... is that a man i'm seeing?🤨

yourusername well... maybe

dancer2 Be fr she's trying to soft launch him for like a month now😭

dancer1 okay i'm calling you rn STAY WHERE YOU ARE

user3 Guys why's nobody talking about the paddock pass in the 5th picture!!!!

user4 omg that's a PADDOCK PASS?😱

user5 yeah it is I noticed it thanks to this comment

user6 Wait... does that mean her and Fernando have been together longer? Because she already went to a race before the winter break??

user5 idk girl we don't even know for sure she's really dating him😓

user6 idgaf about who's dating her bc even without bf y/n's sooo hot like damn... mommy🥵

user7 I'm so confused... is this Alonso's girl or not?

user8 trust me user7 - we'd all like to know that😭

user9 😍

yourusername and fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram stories

yourusername story has been seen by taylorswift, lance_stroll and 13,634 others

fernandoalo_oficial story has been seen by charles_leclerc, astonmartinf1 and 308,003 others

user1 replied to yourusername story: is that an f1 driver there y/n

dancer1 replied to yourusername story: Hope he'll not disappoint me in person when you talked about him sm 😒

yourusername ohhh trust me you'll love him just as I do🥰

dancer1 omg bleeeeh I hope not 🫣

user2 replied to yourusername story: your friends are so pretty😩

taylorswift replied to yourusername story: When you'll take him to get my approval??

yourusername soon taylor, soon... I'm just afraid it'll break the internet lol

taylorswift I think we're used to that already with Travis at this point😂

yourusername true😭

fernandoalo_official replied to yourusername story: 🔥

yourusername it's going to be okay, they'll love you 🫶

fernandoalo_oficial how did you know I was nervous amor?

yourusername I saw you literally shaking when you left to the bathroom love...😹

yourusername oh they're back come quickly!!💞

fernandoalo_oficial onmw

user3 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: IS THIS THE CONFIRMATION WE NEEDED?!

user4 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I see what you're doing here old man 👀

user5 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: soft launch slowly turning into a hard launch and I'm here for it!!!!

dancer1 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: I guess you aren't that bad in person...

fernandoalo_oficial 😁

user6 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: screaming crying throwing up

taylorswift replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: You better treat my best dancer right Alonso!🤍

fernandoalo_oficial of course ma'am! 🫡

user7 replied to fernandoalo_oficial story: So cute!!😍

messages between Y/N and Fernando

fernandoalo_oficial posted on instagram

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, f1, yourusername and 601,239 others

tagged: yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial All these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret... #swiftie

view all 6,022 comments

yourusername I'd just like to make it clear to everybody that it's me who made him be swiftie... you're welcome💋

liked by the author

user1 OMG THE LYRICS FROM PEACE BY TAYLOR

carmenmmundt Y/N is so pretty!😍

yourusername ohh carmen ilysm you're even prettier🥹

user2 No way Fernando just really har launched his gf😭

f1 We smell a new wag!

user4 LOL you're kinda late for that admin xd

user5 Congrats and wish you well world champ!💪

user6 can we talk about how gorgeous she is???

lilymhe double date when honey?

yourusername anytime babeee!!!

fernandoalo_oficial why do I have a feeling me and alex_albon will be third-wheeling on you two?🤨

alex_albon you'll eventually get used to third-wheeling your own girlfriend and her friends, trust me fernando...🤠

user7 This girl is like a goddess, I can't even blame him ❤️🔥

user8 mommy & daddy

georgerussell63 Finally! Congratulation on the hard launch mate👍

fernandoalo_oficial and look who's original with emojis now...😂

user9 from now on this is my fav couple

user10 mine to

user11 SHUT UP THE DELULU GIRLIES ON TWITTER WERE RIGHT

lance_stroll 💚💚

user12 nah I don't know what he see in her🙄

user13 Go away we don't want the jealous haters here 🥱

kellypiquet Welcome to the F1 family yourusername!🤍

yourusername thx!💞

user14 i call this couple goals

user15 I'M SO READY FOR BOYFRIEND MATERIAL ALONSO

user16 I can already feel he'll be so hot in his new era 😩

user17 lmao nando in his swiftie and stlutty era as someone on twitter said😹

yourusername swiftie and slutty era? i like the sound of it😏

user16 not y/n reading all the comments sipping over her bf 💀

liked by yourusername

THE END

Author's Note: Hello everyone, hope you liked it! I'm not sure you should get used to me posting so often, but let's say that after Lance's social media au and the great feedback I had so much motivation... plus I'm sick, so I actually have the time to write and create XD. Anyway, I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblog and every other way of showing support! Have a great day and let me know how you liked Nando and swiftie dancer together!

552 notes · View notes

pearbunny · 3 months ago

Text

first kiss // [an ot8 series]➥ HHJ

Hwang Hyunjin

part of the first kiss Masterlist, a simple unrelated drabble series of your first kiss genre: fluff! actor!hyunjin x actress!reader summary: Your director friend has someone in mind to play your romantic interesting in an upcoming movie: Hwang Hyunjin. word count: 3k warnings: Use of Y/N. Hongjoong appearance. Cursing. Writer has limited knowledge about audition processes lol not exactly proof read, hehe oops a/n: i'm struggling on these short drabbles, mostly because i feel compelled to overwrite to explain/build a backstory or connect. god idk how to feel about this one. ANYWAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY HWANG HYUNJIN!!!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Hongjoong has been not only a close friend, but a trusted work partner since your second ever feature film. He’s only slightly older than you, but in a professional sense, he’s been directing since he was fifteen; back then it was music videos for friends who were aspiring musicians. He quickly adopted the starving artist attitude and worked on numerous projects– audition tapes, commercials, small inserts in shows or tv broadcasts, until finally he hit the jackpot with a very indie film that caught the attention of the masses. Since then, he’s found success after success, whether it be big or small.

So when Hongjoong said he found a fresh new face –Hwang Hyunjin– on stage while watching a local play that would be a perfect fit for the role opposite of yours in your upcoming movie, you were 80% on board. The other 20% was skeptical; Hyunjin had only been in three small plays. He worked his way up from a background actor, a supporting role, and most recently one of the leading actors.

“Y/N, trust me on this, okay? Have I ever steered you wrong?” Hoongjoong crosses his legs in his seat across from you and he lifts his cup full of espresso to his lips. He exudes confidence: perfectly tailored gingham printed trousers, a matching brown colored cardigan with a crisp white wide collar shirt underneath. He wears his glasses low on the bridge of his nose, eyes not even looking at you because he knows he’s right.

“No, you have not.” Your eyes scan over the text of the script, flipping through the pages as you speed read through it.

“And you know I’m right about these things,” Hongjoong clicks his tongue for emphasis. “I was right about you.”

You glance at him now, annoyed at how true that was. Your story was a little different from Hyunjin’s: a child actress that started out in commercials, roles on lesser known TV shows, a small role in a movie. Then your agent found the script to one of Hongjoong’s movies and since then, you’ve worked on a couple of projects with him. So while you had similarities, you’re a… more seasoned actress.

Hongjoong flashes his pearly whites, taking your silence as a win. “Anyway, I set up a meeting with you guys since he’ll be your romantic partner. You guys can rehearse your lines for a chemistry read.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You reread the text message from Hongjoong. He had given you the address of a cafe near his studio where Hyunin and you would meet. You look up at the large printed numbers above the entrance of each shops you pass by, trying to find the place. Soon, smell of coffee fills your nose and you know you’re closeby.

When you find the shop and open the door, a soft murmur of conversations float through the air, just over the clinking and clanking of espresso machines and blenders behind the counter. You fall in line, deciding to grab a coffee before looking around the place for Hyunjin. With your latte in hand, you set out to find your possible co-star.

You’re not sure what he looks like, really, but you’re looking at the tables, ruling out anyone that’s seated with someone already. The cafe looked like a good co-working space, with tons of outlets for laptop chargers, even a couple of work meetings happening, judging by fancy work jargon you weren’t familiar with; something about the measurements of last quarter’s KPI.

Finally, your eyes land on a man with black hair that barely touches his shoulders, half of it tied up in an effortless way, with bangs that frame his cheekbones. A pair of thin silver-framed glasses sits high on his nose bridge as his eyes peer down at his phone, a thick bundle of papers in front of him on the table. You confirm it's him when you read the title of the upcoming movie in plain text on the binded papers’ front page.

You pull the chair out from across from him, smiling once he takes notice of you. His eyes are a little wide, taken by surprise. “Hyunjin? Hi, I’m Y/N.Hoongjoong told me a little bit about you.”

Hyunjin’s dark brown eyes follow your form as you sit in your chair and place your coffee down in front of him. “Ah,” He scratches at the back of his head nervously and clears his throat. “Hi. Hongjoong didn’t…” He struggles for a little bit, wondering if he should say what he’s thinking. “Well, Hongjoong didn’t really have to tell me much about you.”

“Oh?” You sit your bag and coat on the empty chair next to you.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve definitely seen a couple of Hongjoong’s films before. So when he said that the script was going to you, I rewatched Loveless, and I ended up watching a drama you were in.” Hyunjin straightens his back and sits up straight in his chair.

You find him watching your past projects a little embarrassing. You’re nowhere near as known as Hongjoong himself is, you choose to do smaller films and short series on television; you aren’t sure you’re ready to do anything more than that. Loveless was the movie you had first done with Hongjoong. It was a romance movie about two star crossed lovers that ended on a bitter note. As for dramas, you have been in a few. “Which one if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My Secret Life.” Hyunjin’s smile stretches the corners of his lips to show a dimple and you find yourself smiling back at him, purely based on the energy his smile radiates.

“Oh no, that was a very… fluffy and cringy show!” You laugh off how self-conscious you feel all of a sudden.

“Oh yea, it definitely was.” Hyunjin takes a sip of his drink. It looks to be a strawberry-matcha-something-or-other if you were to go by the colors. “But you were really good in it! The fact that I felt second hand embarrassment in those scenes meant you were delivering your lines well.”

You give Hyunjin a lopsided smile, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling ear to ear. The praise he was giving you was enough to inflate your ego, but you quickly shook it away and nodded your head. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Your eyes glance at the script in front of him. “Have you read it over?”

Hyunjin takes his phone off of the cover and slips it into his pocket. With one hand, he flips opens the script and flips through a couple of pages. “Yes and I have a couple of notes that I wanted to go through with you, if you didn’t mind?”

Your eyes light up, pleasantly surprised at how professional and prepared he came, despite this possibly being his first film. “Wow, yeah of course! We can go to hongjoong’s studio if you’d like. He’s got a conference room we could use.”

“Perfect.” Hyunjin stands up and grabs his script, tucking it under his arm while he grabs his drink. He comes around the table to your chair and while you move to stand up, he takes your coat and bag in one hand, offering it to you and scooting the chair back in behind you.

It's then you notice how tall he is, how his black knit sweater seems to just drape over his body. The slim silver chain around his neck dangles, elongating his tall frame even more. You almost struggle to keep up with his long strides.

The walk to Director Hongjoong’s studio was only a couple of blocks away, but it allowed you to get to know each other more.

Hyunjin walks next to you, letting you lead the way. When you pause at the crosswalk, you look both ways as you ask, “When was the first time you’ve ever acted?”

Hyunjin smiles as he reminisces. He remembers small Hyunjin, eight years old, way too excited for his one-line part in a school play. “Elementary school. I was Sheep Number 2’ during a manger scene during the Christmas play. ‘He’s here! He’s here!’ That is the only thing I said for the one and a half hour show.” He shakes his whole body, trying to get rid of the embarrassing memory.

You find it cute.

“What about you, what was your first acting experience?”

“A diaper commercial." You laugh, as you usually do, when you tell someone about how your dad signed you up for a diaper commercial, convinced you were the sweetest and most beautiful baby ever. "How'd your audition go with Hongjoong?"

"It went alright," Hyunjin shrugs, a little lacking in confidence. If Hongjoong picked him for the role, it went more than alright. You knew that Hongjoong did not settle for anything less than the vision in his mind. "I was a little surprised that he came up to me after that play to tell me to audition."

You give him a reassuring smile, "Well I'm excited to rehearse with you. Hongjoong doesn't pick just anyone."

Soon, you find yourselves in front of Hongjoong’s creative studio. Large windows to let in all the natural light, low couches in earth and jewel tones. A lot of the furniture was a mix-matched amalgamation of sorts, yet they all came together to form a cohesive vibe. Because of all the natural light, there were many plants around including tall monsteras, snake plants, vining and crawling ones, and a succulent wall piece.

Hyunjin’s mouth dropped as he gasped. The place was beautiful.

However, being friends with Hongjoong now for a couple of years, it was just how Hongjoong was. Not to discredit how beautiful the place was, but it just made sense for him.

“We can use the room at the end of the hall.”

Hyunjin nods and takes the initiative to lead the way, opening the door for you and closing it behind him, then taking a seat next to you.

No longer is he the wide-eyed boy with a sweet smile and dimples that you saw out in the lobby, his brows are straight with focus as he goes over the script, pencil in hand as you both takes notes straight on the script’s page.

You go back and forth over how you should deliver certain lines, seeking validation from each other and giving criticism and offering advice. In order to nail the chemistry read, the both of you had to really have a good grasp of the characters’ personality at that point in the script.

Hyunjin places his pencil on a specific line. “So, at this point, my character seems to be more himself. Like he doesn’t have to hold back.”

You nod, leaning over slightly to read his script for context since you were on another page. “Oh, m’hmm.” You hum. “I think that’s where my character kind of knows what she’s gotten herself into with him.” You bite the inside of your cheek and look back at your own script, turning it to the same page as Hyunjin’s. “I was thinking that she should be a little more bold and really just go for this kiss.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, mulling the choice over. “Do you think that would be a drastic change though? Like she just suddenly gets the confidence?”

Your brows scrunch together and you flip back through the pages, quickly reading over the lines to see your characters’ interactions with one another. At this particular point in the plot, your character has mostly shown characteristics of someone that was a little timid, a little cautious to go after something that isn’t considered a ‘safe’ choice. Hyunjin’s character is the type of guy that has fallen for your character who isn’t exactly his type, so he’s gentle around her, but this scene seems to be a small moment that leads into a later big moment.

Finally, you nod and make your own notes. “You’re right. I think this scene is supposed to be a bit more subtle. Like a small action that makes her realize there’s no going back.”

Hyunjin’s eyes beam as he nods. “Yes, exactly! She’s supposed to be this girl who’s typically very level-headed, a creature of habit, but here she sees the option of ‘Do I choose something I’m not used to or do I go back to something I know’.”

The excitement in Hyunjin’s voice and his animated gestures are infectious and now you are also excited about the direction of the scene. Obviously, Hongjoong would have the final say during filming, but it was always good to be on the same page, especially since this was for a chemistry read.

Hyunjin stretches his arms above his head, loosening his stiff back muscles from sitting at the table for so long. You two were working so hard to ensure the chemistry read would go well that you hadn’t even noticed how dark it was outside. “So, why don’t we rehearse a couple of times and then we’ll call it?”

You agreed, standing up from your chair and stretching, too. You had to admit to yourself that Hyunjin’s work ethic was admirable. You wonder if it was that young starving artist feeling that you seemed to have lost at some point; you hadn’t felt this optimistic about a script in awhile. Whatever it was, it motivated you to match his energy: exciting for the possibilities that the film could present. Though he worked hard, it wasn’t at all intimidating, especially since he shared his thoughts with you often. It helped you engage one another and it made you feel comfortable.

You both flip to the correct page of the scene you were to present to Hongjoong.

Hyunjin clears his throat and reads his lines one more time before placing himself at the edge of the table, leaning back on it casually. He takes his glasses off and folds them neatly, placing them on the desk. Finally, to put himself into character, he rolls his sleeves up, showing off his strong forearms. When he looks up at you, your met with slightly hooded eyes, sultry, like there was only one thing on his mind: You.

Your mouth goes dry under his gaze. You nearly have to remind yourself to get into character, that this was apart of a scene. You quickly pull yourself together and, similar to Hyunjin, you become your character: a little trepidatious, but intrigued. You don’t have to look at your lines, you’ve gone over them in your head multiple times already while jotting down notes.

“So, Mina was right?” You deliver the line in such a way that your voice toes the line between playful curiosity and accusatory.

Hyunjin acts on his notes on the script, crossing his arms over each other, a body language tick that shows he’s feeling cornered and withdrawing a little from the question. “It depends, what did she say?”

Your eyebrows knit a little and your lips twitch into a small smile, but it’s a sad one, as if you’re hoping it’s not true. “You don’t do relationships.”

Hyunjin uncrosses his arms, and pushes himself off the table. He grabs another chair and sits it across from you. His body is turned totally towards you while you are looking at him from the side, body turned 90 degrees away from him. “No. I don’t. They’re… “ He pauses, as if searching for the right words, despite knowing his next line. “Messy.” His voice is gentle despite how much they’re supposed to sting your character’s heart.

“Well, I mean, they don’t have to be?” Your voice poses it as a question, as if trying to persuade Hyunjin into giving a relationship a try.

“No, they don’t have to be,” Hyunjin pulls your seat closer to him, turning it around so you face him. His legs are spread apart, while yours together fit in the gap between them. “But why mess thing’s up?” Hyunjin reaches his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your face to get a better look of you. A small smirk dances on his lips as he leans forward. He allows a pause, space for your character to dismiss him, to back away, to shoot him down.

Instead, you lean into his touch and exhale deeply.

Hyunjin’s smirk turns into a smile and he leans in even more, his lips so close to yours. For a moment, it’s tense with him just hovering there.

“This is where we would kiss.”

Hyunjin swallows a lump in his throat, chuckling to himself awkward. “Yeah,” He doesn’t make a move to back away as his cheeks grow warm with clumsiness and embarrasment.

You quickly take a glimpse of him and notice that he’s staring, just staring, at your lips. Subconsciously you lick your lips, almost a plea for him to go for it.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You almost laugh, but before it can escape you, he’s crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is electric, it sends tingles down your spine, all the way to the tips of your toes. His long fingers and large palm cradles your face while you not only accept, but return the kiss. Your lips mold onto his, soft and pillowy. There’s a short fight for dominance until your whole body relaxes to his touch. When you pull away, you’re left breathless. You can’t even look him in the eyes, you’re embarrassed.

How could a novice actor rock you to your core like that?

Hyunjin clears his throat and nonchalantly backs his chair away from yours and turns his attention back to the table and his open script.

You finally catch your breath, running your hand through your hair to compose yourself. Your manicured fingers tug at the collar of your shirt before you roll your chair next to his, following his example. You take your pencil and gesture to jot down notes into the margin of your script, but all you’re doing is scribbling circles next to the line that state that the characters kiss and you can’t help but to feel like you’re drawing how your stomach feels, fluttery, jumbled up, nervous and excited.

You sneak a look at Hyunjin through the corner of your eyes, only to see that the blush has stayed on his cheeks. He is however writing down notes. You sit up in your chair a little straighter to give you a good look at his messy writing.

‘Confidently kiss her. Make sure it’s a kiss that leaves her wanting more.’

You’ll have to tell him another time that that is exactly what that kiss was giving.

Right now, you have to tell Hongjoong that there will be no need for a chemistry read. The chemistry was there, alright.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

an: thanks for reading! i appreciate you c:

#skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin #hyunjinf fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines

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rimatsu · 2 months ago

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girl where are you? we need your level-headedness after the mass hysteria caused by that one cameo 💀 bucktommys are so prone to panicking over nothing it's starting to affect me 😭

ok i won't sugarcoat my words: some of you need to stop spiraling over the most innocuous of shit. it's like you're determined to find an excuse to be miserable (not speaking to you specifically anon <3 a general dip in morale will understandably affect your own) i saw that cameo answer yesterday and my only thought was "how sweet!" bc my first instinct isn't to view everything through a negative lens (imagine that! 🫨)

1. lfj pretty much said the same thing in his february interview, knowing he'd be on set a few weeks later. stating that an ongoing experience "has been a fun ride" doesn't necessarily mean you're getting out of it. that also pertains to ryan btw, although i acknowledge that the circumstances are different: ryan's insta stories were unprompted while lfj's answers were made in response to questions/messages. in both cases: it could mean something, but it could also mean nothing.

2. the same people freaking out over that lone sentence were celebrating a cameo reply posted a few hours earlier where lfj hyped up the rest of the season bc it suggested he'd be part of the whole thing. a sentiment repeated in the second cameo. so which is it, folks? pick a narrative and stick to it.

3. they're currently shooting the 816-818 block. 816 is seemingly done and they've moved on to 817/818 last week. lfj could've very much so wrapped up his guest appearances for the season, including the finale. idk why that's an alarming or surprising possibility: the more elaborate, time-consuming scenes are emergencies, and tommy wouldn't be a part of them.

4. there's a good chance he was filming in madney's house last week for 817 or 818 which is very promising for tommy's future in the show...

y'all need to relax and stop over-analyzing every word and micro-expressions coming from these actors. watch the show and enjoy the ride

#i apologize for my shortish tone but the doom and gloom cycle is getting frustrating #asks #911 spoilers

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nionom-art · 1 month ago

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Hello!

I have started the second chapter, still pretty good! 😁 However, I got a bit confused on the classmates, so I have a few questions ...

Marinette seems to like Alya, but what is her reason to trusts Lila to an extent to give her the Cat Miraculous 🐈‍⬛? I mean, she seems as the lesser choice, but still.considers it, why?

It might be adressed, so than, sorry, but Adrien clearly arrives one day later than school starts... Why? (I would have assumed the akumatization, but just 10 min. after his arrival, comes the supervillain...)

How did he conviced Gabriel?Since the late, I would have assumed he wasn't sure to let Adrien go... In cannon he escaped, but here with Messaging Chloé seems intentional. Did he just escaped, but was captured -therefor wasn't the one helping Fu- and his escape convonced Gabe he should go to school, otherwhise, he will escape to it?

How did Lila know Adrien? Or did she just saw him over Chloé's shoulder?😅 (I assume on first day, Chlo did spoke about him... A lot...😅, so thrir friendship is not a secret😅)

From the quartet, I missed Nino (not a problem, these 4 makes sence, I just like him) which made me realised, Nino, Nathaniel and Rose are missing, or at least I gid not saw them... Is it intentional, or just did not put them there, and will appear in the class, they were just not in view?

Not classroom question, but is this true, or a bit of exateration? (In cannon, Scarlet fate🐞 and Dark Grimalkin🐈‍⬛ have fought, at least) If not, how come Tikki even knows about she can purifie the akuma?

That’s a lot of questions- let’s break it down

1. Marinette just made friends with both Alya and Lila in episode 1. She trusts them about equally because she doesn’t know either of them very well yet. Alya is her first pick though because Alya clearly loves super heroes and would probably be a good match.

2. & 3. So with Adrien, pretty much exactly what happens in canon happens here with his arrival (minus him helping/meeting Master Fu). He would try to go to school in Episode 1, be stopped by Nathalie, and ignores Chloe’s texts because he’s upset and being scolded by his dad (doesn’t want to talk about it). He sneaks out and goes to school anyway in episode 2. We’ll get a brief direct rundown of this in the comic in a later update.

4. Chloe bragged to Lila and Marinette in episode 1 about knowing Adrien and how he was going to be in their class. Lila just put two and two together and lied to get Chloe out of the way in that scene (I go into a bit more depth explaining Lila’s emotional state during that scene here)

5. All of those characters will still be in the class, I just didn’t feel like drawing more people than was necessary in the Ivan scenes (so I drew the people with lines + Max).

6. I could have sworn Tikki said something like that in canon. If not, eh, call it a plot hole I guess. I don’t think Tikki would count Dark Grimalkin as a real enemy in the first place, but idk- she’s technically fought him, but kinda not too? Maybe she knows about the purification from the grimoire or Fu. Purifying akumas seems like a pretty specific power ngl, and probably wouldn’t apply to fighting Dark Grimalkin anyway (I wouldn’t really know though, I haven’t watched most of season 5).

Edit: okay, so I re-watched the appropriate scene from that episode. Tikki doesn’t mention if she’s fought against the butterfly holder before or not, so for all we know in canon she has. This is what happens when I play telephone with myself instead of copying down the actual lines from the show (my apologies lol).

#hopefully this was helpful #ask #miraculous coccinella

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lcriedlastnight · 10 months ago

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hi bby, could i request either reader comforting oscar or oscar comforting reader?

of course i can, anon! <3

tw: fem!reader, idk i was gonna go with oscar but i forgot and went with reader instead, mc****n, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 658

you were fuming. what the fuck had you just watched? you still had your papaya protective headphones on. you felt like throwing them on the floor in a fit of rage. this was a fucking joke. what kind of team fucks up a one- two?

you watch oscar on the podium with the rest of the mclaren team, you watch as the celebrate with champagne. you can sense the tension between oscar and lando a mile away. if mclaren had fucked up their friendship because of this stupid strategy you knew that they would be getting a few stern words from you.

oscar retreats to his drivers room after his interviews which is not like him at all, he is usually straight in his drivers room, either after a podium of just after he is finished racing no matter what has happened in the race and where he finishes. he knew when he did not appear after the podium that something was wrong and you were worried.

you wait for him in his room, sitting anxiously on the couch. you pick at the skin around your nails as you wait, a nervous habit you have had ever since you can remember. you are so into it you do not even hear the door opening and closing.

"thought i told you to stop doing that?" oscar comments with a half smile, trophy in hand. your heart falls through your stomach at your view. he looks amazing, he looks so so pretty and the trophy in his hands is the bow tying it together. your eyes follow him as he sets it down safely as opens his arms towards you.

you practically run into his waiting arms. you do not care that he is much too sweaty and stinks. you do not care that he is sticky from the champagne and you certainly do not care that you are sobbing your heart out into his chest. right into the sweaty and sticky fireproofs.

"sweetheart, are you crying?" oscar asks, you can hear hints of concern in his voice but it is mostly uncertainty. he knew you were crying but he did not know if you were actually upset or not. he gets a muffled sob in response as you try to hide in his chest.

"hey, what's wrong, c'mon. talk to me." oscar coos. it makes you feel even worse because why are you crying when he is the one that has had the shittest day ever, even though he has just won his very first f1 race.

"you won. they fucked up your win." you cry to him like it had happened to you. "now you and lando will be mad at each other and-" oscar cuts you off before you can say anymore.

"listen to me sweetheart. me and lando are fine. this is only my second season i'll have plenty more. this is nothing to be upset over."

you sniffle at his words and pull your head up to rest your chin on his chest. "but it's your first and it will always be overshadowed by their stupid strategy." you pout at him. you really do think he should be more upset about this but that was your dynamic. oscar did not let things like this get to him, while you let it eat you up inside until it breaks you apart.

"it's okay. i still fought for it. and anyway, you shouldn't be upset about it. i'm not. so let's just celebrate this win, huh? you wanna celebrate with me?" oscar tries, knowing you could never say no to him, no matter how upset you were.

you nod against him and he grins down at you. "good. we're going out to dinner and lando's coming with." this settles your nerves a bit as oscar pulls you close again.

it feels like everything will be alright as soon as you are wrapped up in your boyfriends arms.

#f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #f1 imagine #lcriedlastnightrequests #lcriedlastnight #op81 imagine #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 fic #op81 fluff #oscar piastri x reader

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initforthethrill · 8 days ago

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im so busy and tired and moody and tired rn (school's been kicking my ass) but i just need to come in here periodically and unleash my cate-centred gayness (also periodically? did i sent thoughts (thots) yesterday? i feel like it's been long but also not yk?) Anwayyy ugh.

supe-remacist cate and human user.

i mean... God.

i have like 3 scenarios with this.

maybe some time after the end of season one (god let cate keep her arm) she had very quickly gained a supe following. and she's like lowkey grown pretty popular online. she's a super controversial (technically political(?)) online figure/influencer. like she is in the news like constantly cause of the stuff she posts and she like says pretty crazy anti-human shit but like freedom of speech yk. and like in comes human user and flips everything upside down. obviously cate Hates her at first and its a whole mess but somehow Cate is also drawn to her. and eventually something develops and cate has to navigate this.. and maybe keep the relationship a secret cause how can cate date a human while also being like a infamous anti human political figure.

the second one is basically the same but it makes user famous too. like maybe an actress or a singer or whatever. the thing is she’s super famous, (brings cate even more attention when the news gets out) super liked and super kind so everyone is confused that she is at all being in anyway associated positively with Cate. like she isn’t out here judging her she’s hanging out with cate like they’re friends (?) maybe more?? where’s TMZ? idk if this counts as like star crossed lover, romeo and juliet, forbidden, definitely drama.

third is different. this is like cate and user have been together for ages. like years, maybe even before god u. maybe they knew each other before cate got locked in her room, and had like a secret relationship while cate was locked in there. obviously user couldn’t go to god u as a human but she remained close by, moved to new york and lived close to campus, knew all cate’s supe friends, hang out on campus daily, was always very present and kind and the only human that has CONSISTENTLY been good to cate. unlike her mother. unlike indira. but now that brings us to the end of season 1.. and they are still together but user has to deal with like cate slowly becoming a supe-remacist and hating humans and cate has to figure out how user fits into that because she loves her girlfriend but she’s struggling to trust humans after what happened at god u (obviously the reaction and transition between what happend at god u and user finding out would be more dramatic, my brain is just fried rn, you get the vibe though)

alsoo did i get my very own anon tag? :o <3

omg hi my fave anon<3 why yes...you did indeed get your own tag because how else am i supposed to show appreciation for the anon who keeps feeding me such delicious ideas? mwah.

sooooooo i did a bot for each of your suggestions because you deserve to play out the other two scenarios since i chose the last one for the blurb hehe. bots at the end as always!

this totally spiraled out of control and i needed to cut it off at some point lmao...but i hope you enjoy it<3

fault lines aka supe-remacist!cate who's...dating a human? tags: hurt/comfort, post season 1, directly segues into season 2, mostly follows canon, cate has her prosthetic arm, established relationship, supe-supremacist!cate, human!reader, cate redemption arc, brief kidnapping, supe vs. humans discourse 8.6K+ words

It used to be easier to lie.

Smile, tilt her chin, tell them what they wanted to hear. The right words always came when she needed them—honeyed and heavy, wrapped in just enough sincerity to sell the illusion. Cate Dunlap, poised and polished. Cate Dunlap, poster girl for Vought’s favorite flavor of grief. Cate Dunlap, the traitor who turned on her friends. Or saved them. Or doomed them. Depends who you ask.

But now, standing in front of the bathroom mirror with her palms braced against the counter, all she can see is the crack.

It runs straight down the middle of her reflection.

There’s a smear of mascara beneath one eye—she doesn’t bother wiping it. The left strap of her tank top keeps slipping down her shoulder. Her prosthetic catches the light in a way that makes her flinch. Even six months later it’s still too new. Too heavy. Too real. And not real at all. Half her arm is gone, and no matter how sleek or shiny the tech is, no matter how many journalists call her brave, Cate knows she lost more than flesh and bone that day.

She lost Marie. Jordan. Andre.

Maybe herself.

Maybe you, too.

Cate doesn’t cry. Not really. She just goes still. Like if she freezes long enough, maybe the ache will pass through her instead of burrowing deep. Maybe the guilt will forget her name. Maybe you won’t notice how cold she’s become.

She turns away from the mirror before it answers her.

The apartment is quiet. Not in the peaceful way. In the way that presses in around her ribs. The kind of silence Cate used to crave when she was younger, when everything was too loud—her mother’s shrill voice, Shetty’s calculating calm, the throb of fear that came every time she looked at the locked bedroom door. But now? Now the silence only reminds her that she’s alone.

Except she’s not.

She finds you exactly where she left you: curled up on the couch with one leg tucked under the other, hoodie sleeves shoved past your elbows, headphones resting loosely around your neck. There’s a half-finished sketch in the open notebook on your lap—Cate sees blue eyes, long fingers, sharp jaw. It's your version of a love letter. Has been since you were thirteen. Still, Cate doesn’t comment. She just watches. Tries to memorize.

You look up.

“You okay?”

Cate lies automatically. “Fine.”

You frown. It’s subtle. Most people wouldn’t catch it. But Cate’s spent years studying you like scripture. She knows the twitch of your brow, the shift in your throat when you swallow down a question you’re not sure you have the right to ask. Cate hates that. Hates what she’s turned you into—a soft thing too afraid to prod the bruises.

Cate moves to sit beside you, not quite touching. She doesn’t trust herself to. Lately, her skin feels like a warning label. She thinks about that too often—how easy it would be to reach for you and twist everything. Not out of cruelty. Just…control. Just so she can breathe again.

But she won’t.

Not with you.

Never with you.

“I ran into Homelander again,” Cate says after a moment. Her voice is smooth. A little tired, a little distant. The way it always sounds now. “He wants me to speak at the next rally.”

You close your sketchbook. “Are you going to?”

Cate shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

That makes Cate pause.

Want. What a foreign thing. She used to know what she wanted—freedom, applause, connection. You. Now everything’s a question mark.

“I think I’m supposed to,” she says instead.

You don't answer right away. Your thumb brushes the edge of the page you just closed, a nervous tick Cate’s always found unbearably tender. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to look at you without mourning something. Wonders if loving you will always feel like standing on a fault line, waiting for the inevitable split.

“Cate,” you say gently. “You don’t owe them anything.”

Cate huffs out a bitter laugh. “Don’t I?”

“No,” you say, more firmly now. “You saved everyone. You stopped Shetty. You—”

“Broke Jordan’s trust. Abandoned Marie. Covered up the truth. Let Sam out.”

You soften again. “You did what you thought was right.”

Cate leans back, stares up at the ceiling. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while. The kind Cate used to love. The kind that felt like home, because you made it feel that way. Cate closes her eyes.

“Sometimes I wish I hated you,” she says softly.

You turn to her. “What?”

Cate doesn’t look. “It would be easier. If I could put you in the same box as everyone else. If I could just…blame you. For being human.”

Your voice is careful now. “You do blame me. Sometimes.”

Cate flinches.

It’s true. Not always. But in the sharp moments. In the moments when she wakes up gasping, or sees her arm lying on the floor beside her bed like a reminder. In the moments when people cheer her name and then spit on the next human they pass. In the moments when Sam calls her a leader, and Marie looks away. In those moments, Cate wants something to burn. And you are always there. Always reachable.

Cate whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Cate finally turns her head, meets your gaze. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

You don't answer.

Cate’s voice shakes. “Be honest.”

A beat.

Then you speak, “No. I think about who you used to be. I think about who you are when you’re not scared. I think about who you are when you’re with me.”

Cate exhales like it hurts.

“I’m not her anymore.”

“Yes, you are.”

Cate shakes her head, slow and exhausted. “You don’t know what it’s like, baby. Every day I wake up and there’s this voice in my head saying, they hate you. They’ll never understand you. You’re better than them. And sometimes? I believe it.”

You shift closer. Not touching. Just near.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” you say. “I just need you to be honest with me.”

Cate closes her eyes again. The tears don’t fall. They just burn.

“I don’t know if I can fix it.”

You shrug. “Then let it break. I’ll still be here.”

Cate turns her face toward you. Studies you. Every freckle, every scar, every stubborn little line in your jaw. She remembers tracing that jaw when you were kids. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Laying on her bed in the dark with the lights off and her heart thudding like a traitor. She remembers your first kiss. Remembered thinking, if I ever lose her, I won’t survive it.

She’s still not sure she will.

Cate leans in. Not to kiss. Just to rest her forehead against your shoulder.

“You’re the only thing I haven’t ruined,” she whispers.

You press your lips to the top of Cate’s head. A blessing. A promise.

“Then let me stay.”

The morning light doesn’t feel soft.

It’s sharp, white, unrelenting—pouring through the sheer curtains like it’s trying to peel Cate open from the outside in. She lies still in bed, half-wrapped in your hoodie, her face pressed into the pillow you were using before you left for the kitchen. Your scent lingers there: shampoo and old cigarette smoke, that subtle vanilla that always clings to your clothes.

Cate breathes in like it’ll steady her. It doesn’t.

Her arm—what’s left of it—aches in that phantom way again. The metal prosthetic is disconnected, charging on the nightstand. For a moment, Cate stares at it. She imagines it twitching to life on its own. Imagines it reaching out. Gripping her throat. Becoming the monster people already see when they look at her.

The knock on the door is quiet. Considerate.

Of course it is.

Cate doesn’t answer. Just rolls onto her back and waits for the inevitable creak of the hinge. It comes a beat later. You step inside with two mugs—one black, one cream-colored with faded pink lettering that says World’s Okayest Girlfriend.

Cate doesn’t smile. But her throat goes tight.

“I figured you didn’t sleep,” you say, walking over. “So I didn’t make it strong.”

Cate sits up slowly. Her voice comes out rasped and raw. “Thanks.”

You hand over the cream mug.

Cate notices the way your fingers linger. The way you watch her, careful and open all at once, like you’re waiting for Cate to either break or bolt. You probably are.

“I have to go,” Cate says after a sip. She doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I know.”

Cate looks away again. “It’s just a speech.”

You sit on the edge of the bed. “You really believe that?”

Cate doesn’t answer.

Because no—she doesn’t. She knows it’s not just a speech. It’s a spectacle. A signal flare. Homelander doesn’t do subtle. He’s throwing her into the deep end with the cameras already rolling. He wants blood. He wants outrage. He wants her powers, sharpened and obedient.

And Cate—Cate wants to be useful.

Wants to be something more than a girl who failed her friends. Who lost her brother. Who couldn’t stop Shetty until it was already too late.

Homelander looks at her like she’s valuable.

You look at her like she’s human.

Cate doesn’t know which is more dangerous.

“I just need to say something,” she mumbles, fingers tightening around the mug. “They’ll listen if it’s me.”

“Cate—”

“It’s just words, babe.”

You shake your head. “It’s Homelander’s words. You think he’s going to let you say anything real?”

Cate lifts her chin. “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were,” you say, soft but serious. “But you’re hurting. And he knows it. He’s not helping you—he’s weaponizing you.”

Cate doesn’t flinch. But her jaw sets. “You don’t know him.”

You exhale through your nose. Stand. Pace a little like you’re trying to choose your next words carefully. “I know you. And I know what he turns people into.”

Cate sets the mug down on the nightstand, right next to her prosthetic. “You think I can’t handle him?”

“I think he’s using you.”

“And you think I’m too fragile to notice.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You don’t trust me.”

You stop pacing. Turn to her, eyes burning. “No, Cate. I don’t trust him. You, I love. Which is exactly why this scares the hell out of me.”

Cate says nothing.

Not because she doesn’t believe you.

But because she does.

Because you love her. Still. Even now. Even after everything. And that love is so pure it makes Cate feel like she’s choking on it.

But it also makes her feel like she’s being watched from the wrong side of glass. Like you still see the old version of her—the girl who used to blush when you kissed her under the covers, who used to whisper about getting out of the house, running away together, finding something better.

That girl is dead.

Cate became someone else to survive.

And this new version? The one with the metal arm and the hollow eyes and the fire building in her chest? That girl wants to be feared.

She stands.

You take a step back, as if giving her space. As if you know this version isn’t yours to hold.

Cate straps her prosthetic on slowly. Deliberately. It whirs to life with a soft mechanical click. Her fingers flex experimentally.

“Don’t come,” she says without turning around.

You’re quiet. Then: “Cate—”

“I mean it.” Cate looks over her shoulder. Her voice is low. Flat. “You won’t like what I say.”

You nod once.

But Cate sees the way your hands curl into fists at your sides. The way your throat bobs when you swallow.

And the worst part?

You don't stop her.

Just let Cate walk past. Out the door. Down the hall. Into the daylight where the cameras wait.

You don't breathe when Cate steps onto the stage.

Not really. Not fully.

Your lungs seize, ribs locked around something ancient and awful. Fear, maybe. Or grief. Or just the terrible anticipation of watching someone you love become unrecognizable in front of a cheering crowd.

The plaza is flooded—bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, phones raised, flags waving. They’re all here for her. For Cate Dunlap. Vought’s miracle girl. The “Guardian of Godolkin.” The girl who lost her arm and gained an army.

And standing just behind her, hands folded loosely behind his back, is Homelander.

You see him first, actually. He lands mid-sentence during the warm-up act, no warning, no introduction, just that sickening boom of displaced air and a flash of red and white cape. The crowd goes electric—feral, practically foaming at the mouth. You stay still. Hood pulled low, sunglasses on, pressed between two overenthusiastic supe teens who haven’t stopped screaming since she got here.

“You think he’ll fly with her again?” one whispers.

“Only if she keeps behaving,” the other smirks.

You swallow bile.

No one here knows who you are.

Or maybe they do. Maybe they just don’t care.

A few people know Cate dates a human. Most of them think it’s performative. A PR play. Maybe a fetish. Maybe just convenience. Something warm to come home to. Nothing serious. Certainly nothing sacred.

You’ve been called worse than “pet.” The worst came from your own kind.

Race traitor.

Sleeps with murderers.

Hope you get what’s coming to you.

You never respond online. What would be the point?

Instead, you defend supes in quiet conversations. One-on-ones. Talk about Jordan like they’re family. About Andre like he’s the dumbass brother you never had (and now never will). About Marie’s compassion. About Cate’s—

Well.

Not anymore.

Because Cate steps up to the mic and the person who speaks? It isn’t yours.

“Brothers. Sisters. Supes.”

She starts with a smile. Confident. Collected. A little too polished. You’ve seen that smile before—during press interviews, staged photoshoots, propaganda clips Cate would later mock under her breath while crawling into your lap.

But this isn’t a mock-up. This is real.

“This is a new era,” Cate continues. “One where we finally stop apologizing for our existence.”

The crowd roars.

You stay silent. You’re not even supposed to be here, after all.

Cate’s in all black, her prosthetic fully visible, hair perfectly straightened and cascading down her back. Sharp lines. Intentional. She looks untouchable. Cold. Beautiful. Her voice doesn’t tremble. She doesn’t stumble. She doesn’t flinch when Homelander steps closer.

He stands just behind her now. Like a shadow. Like a claim.

And Cate lets him.

“They want us to stay quiet. To keep our heads down. They want us to feel guilty for the power that was thrust upon us without our consent.”

More cheers. Phones flash.

“They say we’re dangerous. That we can’t be trusted. But what about them?” Cate’s voice lifts now, righteous and raw. “Who built the labs? Who injected the serum? Who locked up children and called it education?”

Your nails dig into your palms.

“They made us. And now they fear us.”

Cate leans forward, eyes glittering. “Let them.”

The scream from the crowd is deafening.

You watch your girlfriend bask in it. Arms raised. Prosthetic fist clenched. Homelander’s grin wide behind her.

And you think:

You used to be so scared of your powers you cried yourself to sleep.

You made me promise never to look at you differently.

You were my home.

But the woman on stage is not yours.

Not right now.

You don't cry. Not here. Not in front of all of them. Just push your way out of the crowd before the next speaker is called. Before Cate looks back and sees an empty space where you once stood.

You duck into the alley between buildings, hoodie still up. No one follows.

Only then do you let yourself sink to the pavement.

You’re shaking.

Not from fear. From fury. From sorrow. From the deep, aching knowledge that the girl you fell in love with is now a weapon in a war neither of you asked for.

And the worst part?

Cate probably thinks she’s protecting you.

By pretending you’re no one. Disposable. Forgettable.

But you know better.

Cate doesn’t keep her secret out of shame.

She keeps her secret because if the world knew what you meant to her, they’d use it.

Just like Homelander is using Cate now.

Cate doesn’t notice the silence right away.

She’s still buzzing, heart still skipping in that frantic, addictive rhythm—the kind that feels too close to joy to call anything else. The kind that makes you believe the crowd meant it. That they see you. That maybe, just maybe, you’re finally becoming the person you were always meant to be.

The second she steps into the apartment, it dies.

No lights.

No music.

No sketchbook on the coffee table, you’re not curled up in the corner of the couch pretending you’re not watching the livestream on mute. No sarcastic comment waiting at the door. No arms. No kiss. No presence.

The air feels off.

Cate blinks, still in her boots, one glove peeled halfway off her metal hand. “Baby?”

Nothing.

She checks the bedroom. Bathroom. Rooftop. Nowhere.

At first, she thinks—Maybe she left to get food. Maybe she’s walking the block, needed air, needed—

Then she sees the mug in the sink. Lipstick smeared around the rim.

And beside it, crumpled like something thrown too hard into the trash: a rally flyer. Folded once. Then again. Then torn clean down the middle.

Cate stares.

Then turns to the TV. Her phone.

The livestream is still trending. Her face plastered across headlines.

Cate Dunlap: The New Voice of Supe Sovereignty.

Homelander’s Rising Star.

Blood for Blood: Inside the New War on Human Institutions.

And below it, the comments.

“She’s so hot when she’s angry.” “Bro she was faking it with that human chick anyway. She’s one of us.” “Finally someone’s saying it.” “Tell me she’s single now.” “Wait—wasn’t she dating some little human nobody? 😂”

Cate doesn’t finish reading.

Her hand tightens. A snap cracks through the silence—glass shattering in the sink. The mug.

Her mug.

The pink one.

Like some bad omen.

Cate’s stomach lurches.

She doesn’t remember walking to the door. Only the rush of motion, the sound of your name caught in her throat, the twist of guilt coiling tight behind her ribs. She slams the door open and starts down the stairs, not trusting the elevator, not trusting herself.

It takes twenty minutes to find you.

You’re in the alley behind the bodega, hoodie still on, shoulders hunched like the wind cut straight through you. You’re sitting on the curb. Smoking.

The world around you moves on.

Cate stops. She just—stops.

You don't look up.

Which means you know.

Cate steps forward anyway.

“I didn’t know you were there.”

You exhale. “Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“Wanted to see the show.”

Cate flinches. “That’s not fair.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

Cate takes another step. Close enough to see the way your jaw is clenched. The way your eyes are red. The way you hold the cigarette like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“You mean see you?” you ask quietly.

Cate doesn’t answer.

Because yes.

That’s exactly what she means.

You finally look up. And it’s not hate in your eyes. It’s worse. Heartbreak.

“Is that who you are now?”

Cate doesn’t speak. Can’t.

Because part of her doesn’t know anymore.

You stand. Shrug the hoodie tighter around you. “I thought I could handle it,” you say. “The looks. The threats. The names. All of it. Because I thought…you were worth it.”

Cate opens her mouth. But you keep going.

“I didn’t care what people called me. Race traitor. Pet. Whatever. Because I knew you. I knew who you were with me.”

A breath.

“I don’t think I know you anymore, Cate.”

Cate stumbles forward, desperate. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

Cate swallows hard. Her voice is barely a whisper. “I thought keeping you secret would keep you safe.”

You laugh. It’s hollow. “Funny. You hiding me only made everyone think I didn’t matter. Not to them. Not to you.”

“You matter more than anything.”

Your eyes shine now. “Then say it. Say it where they can hear you.”

Cate goes still.

Because she can’t.

Not yet. Not with Homelander watching. Not with every supe in the country ready to make you a target if they knew the truth.

You see that hesitation. See all you need.

You nod slowly, turning to walk away. “Yeah,” you murmur. “That’s what I thought.”

This time it’s Cate who doesn’t stop you.

She just stands there. In the dark. In the cold. In the silence she made.

Cate locks the door behind her.

Not because she’s afraid.

Because part of her wants to scream. Break something. Scream again. And she knows if she doesn’t have barriers between herself and the rest of the world, she’ll be on the evening news for a different reason entirely.

Cate stares at the ruined mug in the sink like it might put itself back together. Like time might rollback and undo the moment your eyes stopped looking at her like she was worth saving.

She sinks to the floor.

Her arm whirs slightly as she folds it into her lap, a mechanical hiss too loud in the empty apartment. Her whole body’s trembling. She doesn’t know if it’s from the rally or the fight or just the aftershock of standing beside Homelander and realizing that, in the eyes of millions, she’s finally everything she once feared becoming.

A symbol.

A puppet.

A monster.

And you saw it all.

Cate curls in on herself. Hands in her hair now. Teeth clenched. Tears burning like they’re trying to shame her into submission. She tries to breathe steadily. It only makes it worse.

There’s no one here to soothe her. No soothing fingers in her hair. No quiet voice calling her baby, whispering that it’s going to be okay. No warmth.

Only the cold where you should be.

Cate gasps like she’s drowning. Her prosthetic hand claws at the edge of the counter as she pulls herself up. She finds her phone. Dials.

Voicemail.

She tries again. And again.

She doesn’t leave a message.

What would she even say?

Come home.

I’m sorry.

I’m not her.

I think I might be.

The bar isn’t particularly nice.

It’s half-empty, smells like bleach and fryer oil, and the bartender didn’t even bother to card you—just gave you a once-over, raised a brow, and poured double the whiskey you asked for. Maybe he recognized you. Maybe he didn’t care that you hardly look twenty-one.

Either way, you’re on her third drink now.

The world’s gotten blurrier. Softer at the edges. You heart still feels like it’s got teeth, though. Every swallow burns. Not from the liquor. From the ache.

You pull out your phone. Cate’s name lights it up. Three missed calls.

You turns it face down.

Outside, the city moves on. Lights flash. Sirens hum. Somewhere, people are still watching the rally on replay, Cate’s voice looped into TikToks and remixed into fan edits. Some of them feature Homelander’s approving smile behind her. Some don’t.

You don't look, just stare at the rim of your glass. Think about how Cate once kissed you after you cut your palm open climbing a fence—took your hand so gently, like you were made of glass. Thinks about the speech. The crowd. The look in Cate’s eyes when she said, let them fear us.

You down the rest of the glass.

“Another?” the bartender asks.

“Something stronger,” you murmur.

He gives you a long look. Nods. Starts pouring.

It’s not until the fourth drink that you say it aloud.

“I think I need V.”

The bartender pauses. “What?”

You don't look up. “Compound V. The supe serum. I think I need it.”

The guy laughs. Like it’s a joke. Like it’s drunk talk. He walks away.

You stare at your hands. They don’t shake.

Your thoughts are quiet. Steady.

She wouldn’t have to protect me anymore. Wouldn’t have to be afraid. I could stand beside her. Really stand there.

You press the glass to your lips. “She wouldn’t have to be ashamed of me.”

The idea blooms in your chest like something poisonous and seductive.

Other people have done it. Others have survived. Others have gotten powers and kept the people they love, right?

You close your eyes.

“I just want to be enough.”

Cate hears the key in the lock before she sees you.

It’s slow. Fumbling. The wrong key first, then the right one, then a pause like you’ve forgotten how to turn a knob. Cate’s halfway across the room before the door even opens, heart already in her throat.

You stumble in—hoodie still on, face pale and flushed all at once. Your eyes are red. Your mouth is tight. You smell like whiskey and smoke and the night.

Cate doesn’t speak.

Not yet.

You blink at her. Sway. Then shut the door behind you with a soft click, like you know slamming it would break something too fragile to repair.

“I tried to forget,” you say.

Cate’s voice is a whisper. “Did it work?”

You laugh. It cracks halfway through. “You ever tried to forget someone you love?”

Cate feels the answer throb under her skin.

You shrug off the hoodie. Drop it to the floor. Your hair’s a mess. Your knuckles are red. You look like a storm that never got the chance to finish wrecking the coastline.

Cate steps forward. “You shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“You shouldn’t have let me.”

You both go still.

Then—Cate moves.

Not fast. Not desperate. Just forward. Like her body’s been waiting to close the space between them all day. You don't stop her. Just let it happen—let Cate’s arms wrap around you, let your forehead drop against Cate’s shoulder.

Cate exhales.

The relief is sharp. Drowning. Her whole body trembles with it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You don't say anything. Just fist your hands in Cate’s shirt. Hold on like you might fall if you lets go.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel disposable.”

“I’m not mad,” you murmur.

Cate pulls back, just enough to see your eyes. “Then what?”

You swallow. “I’m scared.”

Cate nods. “Me too.”

You kiss before either of you can spiral again.

It’s messy. All teeth and salt and the kind of need that lives deep in the gut. You taste like smoke and pain and love. Cate forgets how to breathe. Her hand—her real one—slides up under your jaw, holding you steady. Your mouths move together like you’ve been doing this forever.

Really, you have.

When you break apart, your eyes are wet.

Cate wipes the tears before they fall.

“I can’t lose you,” you say. Your voice is small. Honest. “It’d tear me in half.”

Cate closes her eyes. “Then stay.”

A pause.

Then, barely audible—

“Would it be easier if I was one of you?”

Cate goes still.

You lean your forehead against hers. “If I took V. If I was strong. If I was dangerous. If you didn’t have to hide me.”

“Don’t,” Cate breathes.

“You wouldn’t have to protect me.”

“Don’t say that.”

You press in closer. “You could love me in public.”

“I already love you in public.”

“You don’t say my name.”

Cate breaks.

Not into tears. Into desperation.

She grabs your hands—both of them. Holds them to her chest like maybe she can pour the truth straight into your skin.

“I love you like you’re the last good thing in me,” she says. “I love you so much it makes me want to tear this fucking world apart just so you’ll be safe in it. But if you take V—if you change who you are to fit some fucked up system even I’m barely surviving—then it’s not me loving you anymore. It’s the war loving its newest recruit.”

You blink hard.

Cate softens her grip. “You don’t need powers to be strong. You already are. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“But you’re still walking into battle.”

Cate nods. “So pull me out.”

You stare at her.

Then kiss her again.

This time slower. Softer. Like maybe you’ll survive this. Together.

Cate wakes before the sun.

The apartment is wrapped in shadow, the kind that clings to everything with softness. No flashing headlines. No protest chants. No Homelander. Just the hum of the fridge. The rise and fall of breath against her back. The weight of a hand curled under her shirt, resting just above her ribs.

You.

Cate doesn’t move. Not yet.

Her eyes stay fixed on the wall in front of her. The faintest pink glow is starting to bleed through the curtains, painting lines across the hardwood floor. She follows them with her eyes. Counts her heartbeats.

Last night is a blur.

Not the fight. Not the rally. Not the cigarette smoke curling off your hoodie as you walked back into Cate’s life like a ghost made of everything Cate couldn’t live without.

The blur is the moment after. The softness. The whisper in the sheets. The way you touched her face like you didn’t care how many monsters Cate had let whisper in her ear that week.

You matter more than anything.

Cate clings to that now.

She shifts slightly, just enough to glance over her shoulder.

You’re still asleep.

Mouth parted, one hand splayed across Cate’s stomach now, the other tucked beneath your cheek. Your lashes are long. Your brow is furrowed even in sleep. Like you’re still bracing for something to go wrong.

Cate gently threads your fingers together under the blanket.

The gesture is small. Ridiculous, really. What the hell does holding a hand fix when the world is tilting this violently? But it’s all Cate has. That and the quiet promise buried somewhere between her lungs: I won’t let them take you. I won’t let this take us.

You stir slightly. Mumble something that might be Cate’s name.

Cate presses a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “I’m here.”

Another mumble. This one clearer. “Time is it?”

Cate glances at the clock. “Early.”

You groan. “Too early to be a martyr.”

Cate smiles before she can stop herself. “Sleep.”

She feels you melt again behind her, the tension bleeding out inch by inch. Cate closes her eyes.

Maybe this is all you’ll get. These stolen hours before the next speech, the next headline, the next call from Homelander or knock on the door or crowd outside screaming for a savior Cate never asked to become.

Maybe this is it.

But for now, your breath is warm against her neck. Your fingers are intertwined. And Cate lets herself believe—for a moment—that she’s still someone worthy of being held like this.

It’s gotten worse overnight.

Cate can feel it the second she steps onto the quad that morning.

Eyes don’t just follow her anymore—they weigh her down. Stares press into her like needles, testing how far they can go before she bleeds. Some are reverent. Most are not. Supe students nod in cold approval. Faculty keep their heads low. And the humans still allowed on campus?

They watch her like she’s holding a loaded gun.

Cate adjusts her sunglasses. Keeps walking.

Godolkin has changed. Maybe it always was this way and she just hadn’t noticed. But now there are fences where there used to be gardens. Surveillance drones hover like flies. Metal detectors at every entrance. And worst of all—the new badge system.

Color-coded. Subtle in design, brutal in function.

Supes wear gold. Vought-issued, sleek, with chip-embedded access to every building.

Humans wear red.

No access. No clearance. No rights.

Yours is tucked into your jacket pocket. You hate wearing it. Cate knows. You used to make jokes about it—Look, babe. I’m officially radioactive. But now?

Now it’s not funny.

Cate walks past the fountain. Past the newly erected statue of Brink. Past the place where she once pulled you into the bushes to make out between classes.

She hears the yelling before she sees the crowd.

The checkpoint near the west gate is swarmed. Protesters—mostly human—have gathered with signs and megaphones and looks of disgust aimed at every supe who walks past. Some of them wear anti-supe shirts. Some wear bloodied bandages on their arms. All of them look like they’ve been waiting for a fight.

Cate slows. Frowns.

And then she sees you.

Hoodie up, badge out, already walking toward the checkpoint when the first voice cuts through the crowd.

“Hey traitor!”

Cate freezes.

You don't flinch. Just keep walking.

Another voice. Louder. Meaner.

“Tell me—is the supe pussy really that good, or are you just that fucking pathetic?”

Cate’s heart stutters.

You stop.

You turn—slowly, deliberately—and Cate can see it about to happen. The tension in your jaw. The flare in your nostrils. The way your hands curl into fists. The moment you snap.

“Don’t,” Cate whispers to no one.

But it’s too late.

A cup flies through the air. Hits you square in the chest. Coffee or soda—sticky and dark. It splashes across your shirt, down your jeans. The crowd laughs.

And then you lunge.

Cate’s moving before she even thinks.

She doesn’t remember pushing past the checkpoint. Doesn’t remember snapping her badge at the guard or ducking through the gate. All she knows is the way you’re already halfway over the barricade, snarling like you’re ready to break someone’s jaw.

Cate grabs you from behind. Arms around your waist.

“Baby—don’t.”

“Cate, let go.”

“Please,” Cate says, voice cracked and low. “They want this.”

You tremble in her arms. Vibrating with rage. Sticky soda running down your front, breathing like a cornered animal. Cate presses her forehead between your shoulder blades.

“Don’t give it to them.”

It takes a long moment. Too long. But finally, finally, you sag.

Cate doesn’t let go.

You stand like that—pressed together on the edge of a war—until security disperses the protesters and a drone whirs low to scan Cate’s credentials. Cate doesn’t speak. Doesn’t care. All she can think is: I let this happen.

When you finally turn around, there’s no anger in your eyes.

Just hurt.

“I was just trying to come see you,” you whisper.

Cate reaches up. Wipes something—soda, maybe tears—from your cheek. Her hand shakes.

“I know,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

But you both know it’s not enough.

She doesn’t even know where her key is.

It takes Cate three tries to get the door open. She hasn’t been back here in weeks, not really—not since everything started to unravel. Since Homelander started circling like a vulture. Since your apartment became the only place that felt remotely like home.

But you can’t go there now.

Too risky.

Too exposed.

So here you are. Cate’s dorm. Four walls and a bed too narrow and a desk covered in unopened mail and protest flyers she never meant to keep. You say nothing as you step inside. Just shrug off your hoodie, wincing when the fabric peels from the sticky soda soaked into your shirt.

Cate doesn’t speak either.

She moves automatically—sets down her bag, goes to the mini-fridge, grabs the half-empty bottle of water, some paper towels, a clean t-shirt from the drawer. Not hers. One of yours. Probably left here by accident months ago.

She doesn’t say that.

Just holds it out. “Sit.”

You sit on the bed without a word.

Cate kneels in front of you.

It’s methodical, the way she cleans you up. Soaked cloth across your collarbone. Across the front of your ribs. Wiping soda from the inside of your elbow like she’s dabbing at a wound. Cate’s movements are gentle but firm, her prosthetic resting quietly on her own knee while her other hand works. You stay still the whole time. Don’t speak. Don’t look away.

Only flinch once—when Cate presses too hard against a bruise she hadn’t noticed forming.

“Sorry,” Cate breathes.

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

Cate’s hands still.

She lets the silence stretch between them.

Then, quietly: “You shouldn’t have to go through that. Just to be with me.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “You think this is about you?”

Cate looks up. She doesn’t smile. “Isn’t it?”

You exhale. Your eyes are tired. “It’s about all of it, Cate. The checkpoints. The comments. The looks. The fucking badge. They don’t just hate you. They hate that I chose you. That I keep choosing you despite all the shit that comes with it.”

Cate swallows hard. “I don’t want you to have to choose.”

“Well, you don’t get that luxury anymore.”

Cate leans back on her heels. Watches her. Soaks her in. The bruise. The rage. The deep, painful clarity in her voice.

And then—Cate whispers, “What if it’s not enough?”

“What?”

Cate’s voice is barely audible now. “What if love isn’t enough to survive this?”

Your expression softens. “Then we find something else.”

Cate closes her eyes.

She doesn’t want to cry. Not now. Not here.

But it sneaks up anyway.

Not sobs. Just that helpless burn behind her ribs. That stupid catch in her breath.

You reach down. Fingers brushing her cheek. Cate leans into it like she might break without it.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Cate says.

“You won’t.”

Cate opens her eyes again. “But what if staying with me means giving up pieces of yourself?”

You don't hesitate.

“Then I give them up.”

Cate freezes.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t say that. You deserve to be whole.”

“So do you.”

Cate looks up at her. Really looks. “Are we willing to tear pieces off ourselves just to fit together?”

You nod. “If that’s what it takes.”

Cate exhales shakily. “And if it still doesn’t work?”

“Then we go down together. Hands clasped.”

Cate crawls up into your lap.

Wraps her arms around your neck. Buries her face against your shoulder.

You sit like that for a long time.

No answers. Just the thrum of hearts trying not to break.

Just two girls on the wrong side of history, holding onto the only thing that still feels real.

At first, she thinks you’re just late.

The checkpoint at the east gate is always a mess—two ID scans, three layers of metal detection, one bored Vought intern assigned to “human entry” like it’s a fucking punishment. Cate waits near the quad, watching her phone. One minute. Two. Ten.

By twenty, the dread starts to bloom.

You always text.

Even when you’re pissed. Even when you fight. Even when you’re drunk and petty and too stubborn to say I miss you, you always text.

Cate tries calling.

Voicemail.

She tries again. Nothing.

The campus feels too loud. Too bright. The shadows crawl longer than they should.

Cate doesn’t walk—she runs to the checkpoint.

It’s empty.

“Where’s the human from this morning?” she snaps at the first supe guard she sees, repeats your name for emphasis.

The guy shrugs. “Didn’t see her come through.”

“She badged in. I saw the record.”

“Then maybe she tripped a sensor.”

Cate’s stomach knots. “Where is she?”

Another shrug. Too casual. Too clean.

“I want to see the footage.”

“That’s above my clearance.”

Cate doesn’t blink. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah,” the guard says, tone going flat. “That’s the problem.”

She stares him down.

And when it’s clear she’s not getting an answer here—not from guards, not from Godolkin—she does the only thing she knows will get her answers.

She goes directly to Vought.

The tower lobby is glass and shadow. Cate’s boots click across the marble as she strides past reception like she owns the place. She doesn’t need clearance. Not anymore. Not since he started treating her like his favorite daughter.

The elevator doors open like they’ve been waiting for her.

When they close, she punches the emergency override. Ninety-ninth floor. Executive access.

The doors slide open again.

And there he is.

Homelander.

Waiting.

Grinning.

“Oh,” he says, voice syrup-slick. “Just the girl I wanted to see.”

Cate doesn’t slow. “Where is she?”

He tilts his head. “You’ll have to be more specific. She is such a broad category.”

“My girlfriend. Human.”

He laughs. “Oh. Right. That one.”

Cate’s pulse spikes.

Homelander walks toward her, slow and easy, hands clasped behind his back. Like he’s got all the time in the world. Like nothing bad could ever possibly touch him.

“I was starting to think you were hiding her,” he says. “You know, for someone who claims to be part of the cause, you’re awfully…conflicted.”

“Where is she.”

He gestures lazily toward the hallway. “Holding. Lower levels. We just had some…questions. She triggered a flag in the system. Old Red River files. Unregistered V exposure, did you know that? Tsk. Sloppy.”

Cate’s mouth goes dry.

“She’s not a threat.”

“She is a human who’s been whispering in your ear,” he replies, stepping closer. “And you’re very important to me, Cate. I can’t have you compromised.”

Cate squares her shoulders. “You can’t have me disobedient. There’s a difference.”

Homelander grins. “Semantics.”

Then, casually, “Let’s make this simple. There are two people in holding right now. Your human. And a young supe who’s been leaking information to the press. You can have one.”

Cate doesn’t move.

Homelander leans in. “I’ll even let you be the one to do it. You can use your powers. Find out which is lying. Who’s worth saving. Easy.”

Cate’s voice cracks. “You want me to use my powers on her.”

“I want you to prove your loyalty.”

Her fists curl.

“You don’t have to hurt her,” he says. “Just…check her thoughts. Peek behind the curtain. Make sure she’s not a traitor to our cause.”

Cate remembers what it feels like. Touching someone and slipping in without consent. Reading everything. Every thought. Every shame. Every fear. It’s a violation, even when it’s done with care.

With you?

It would be…unforgivable.

She turns to leave.

Homelander calls out after her.

“You walk out without choosing,” he says, eyes gone cold, “and they’ll both be gone come morning. You choose, Cate. That’s the deal.”

Cate’s heart slams against her ribs.

And then—

“I’ll do it.”

You’re in a glass room, like some kind of experiment. Cold metal table. One chair. Arms folded. Eyes puffy, but defiant.

Cate steps in.

The door clicks shut behind her.

You stand. “You okay?” Typical of you to instantly worry about Cate.

Cate doesn’t answer.

She just crosses the room. Stops in front of you. Reaches out.

You flinch.

Cate’s ungloved hand hovers. “It’s me,” she whispers. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You look at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m getting you out.”

Your eyes narrow. “What did you have to do for him?”

Cate’s hand stills. “Nothing. Yet.”

A beat.

Then, very slowly, Cate wraps her fingers around your wrist.

Skin to skin.

Everything rushes in at once, unbidden—your fear, your anger, your memories of the checkpoint, the sting of the soda, the way your thoughts scream Cate, Cate, Cate over and over like a prayer and a curse and a lifeline all at once.

Cate stumbles back. Gasps for air.

You grab her by the shoulders, grounding her. “Hey—hey, breathe. You okay?”

Cate nods, shaking. She almost looks relieved. “You’re clean. I knew you would be but…”

You frown. “Cate, what did you see?”

Cate meets her eyes. “Just me. Always me.”

And then she pulls her in.

Kisses her like it’s the last moment they’ll ever get.

The elevator door hisses shut behind her.

She’s still breathless.

Your name echoes in her chest like a warning bell—like if she says it out loud, Homelander will hear it and rip the air from her lungs. So she keeps it safely tucked away behind her ribs. She keeps everything tucked away.

Cate walks back into the meeting room like nothing happened.

Like her hands aren’t still trembling. Like her powers didn’t just crack wide open and show her everything you’ve been hiding: the fear, the guilt, the hunger, the love.

Homelander’s waiting.

Looking out the window, hands clasped behind his back like always. The skyline burns behind him in late-afternoon gold.

“Well?” he asks without turning around.

Cate’s voice doesn’t shake.

“She’s clean.”

Homelander turns.

One brow arches.

“No thoughts of betrayal?” he asks, stepping closer. “No little secrets? No anti-supe rhetoric buried in that pretty little head?”

Cate meets his gaze.

“There’s nothing in her mind except me.”

He smiles. Sharp and slow.

“Is that so? How romantic.”

Cate doesn’t blink. “She’s not the threat.”

“Then the other one is.”

Cate hesitates. “I…didn’t read him.”

“You didn’t need to. You chose. That’s what matters.”

She feels the weight of those words like glass in her throat.

Chosen.

That’s what he wanted. Not truth. Not facts. Obedience. A test of loyalty under the guise of mercy.

She passed.

She failed.

She doesn't know which.

Homelander reaches out, pats her on the shoulder. The metal one. His palm lingers just long enough to feel like possession.

“You did good, kid,” he says.

Cate forces a smile. “Thanks.”

He nods. “Dismissed.”

She turns. Makes a beeline to the elevator. Doesn’t let herself shake until the doors close. Doesn’t let herself cry until she’s halfway down.

And when she steps out onto the sidewalk, Vought Tower behind her like a knife in the sky, she does the only thing she can do.

She calls you.

“I’m coming home,” she says.

It’s dark by the time Cate gets home.

Not late—just dark, the way New York gets in the middle of a bad season. Gray skies, heavy air. The kind of night that feels like it’s waiting to fall apart.

The apartment’s quiet. A single lamp on. No music. No TV. Just you, cross-legged on the couch in your sweats, hair pulled back, a bruise blooming low on your jaw.

Cate’s never hated the world more than she does right now.

The door shuts behind her, and for a second—just a second—she forgets how to move.

You look up. Don't smile. Don’t speak.

You just open your arms.

Cate drops her bag. Walks straight into them. Drops to her knees in front of the couch and lets herself be pulled in like she’s being rescued from a war zone.

Which—technically—she is.

Your arms wrap tight around her shoulders. Cate’s head tucks beneath your chin.

Neither of you speak for a long time.

Not until Cate whispers, “I had to lie.”

Your fingers still in her hair. “To him?”

“To myself.”

You pull back just enough to look at her. “What did you tell him?”

“That you were clean. That I read you and there was nothing in your head but me.”

Your brow furrows. “Is that what you saw?”

Cate nods.

Then chokes.

And it all comes spilling out.

“The checkpoint. The coffee. The way you looked at me when I stopped you from swinging. Homelander’s office. The choice. He made me choose. Between you and some traitor of a supe kid. And he said if I didn’t, he’d…kill you both.”

You stare. “And you picked me.”

Cate shakes. “Of course I did.”

You cup her face. “Even if it made you a traitor?”

Cate nods again. “I’d do it again.”

Her voice cracks on the last word.

“I don’t care what side I’m on anymore, baby. I just want to be where you are.”

You kiss her.

It’s not heated. Not desperate. Just steady. Grounding. Cate clutches your shirt like she might float away otherwise.

When you part, Cate exhales hard.

“I’m scared,” she admits.

You brush hair from her eyes. “Of what?”

“That we’re not gonna survive this. That he’s already watching you. That I led him to you.”

Your voice is soft but sure. “Then we stop letting him decide what happens next.”

Cate looks up. “How?”

You shrug. “We leave.”

Cate stares. “Run?”

“Disappear. Start over. Somewhere off the grid. Or…we stay and fight.”

Cate’s breath hitches. “With who?”

“With whoever we can find that still believes in us.”

Cate sinks back into your lap, silent.

She thinks about Marie. Jordan. Emma.

She thinks about the version of herself she could be if she stopped letting people pull strings through her spine.

“You’d give it all up?” Cate asks.

You meet her gaze. “In a heartbeat.”

Cate nods. Quietly. Slowly. The decision forming between you like a third heartbeat in the room.

“Okay.”

You kiss her temple. “Then we start with this: no more hiding.”

Cate lets out a shaky breath. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” you say. “But this time? We’re scared together.”

Homelander says yes. Without fanfare or resistance.

That’s the part no one really expected.

Cate pitches it like strategy. Like optics. “They’re powerful. They’re visible. You don’t need to punish them—you need to use them. Turn them to our cause.” And he listens. Smirks. Says something about how charming she is when she’s ruthless.

The next morning, Jordan and Emma are cleared to return to Godolkin.

But that’s not the hard part.

The hard part is standing in the quad waiting for them to arrive. Waiting for the transport Vought sends, an armored truck from Elmira, security detail posted like it's a celebrity drop-off, and not two super-abled twenty-somethings who were nearly disappeared by the very institution that claims to protect them.

Cate’s hands shake. You stand beside her, close but silent. You haven't spoken much since you decided to stay. To resist. To try.

Cate’s scared to look at you too long.

Scared she’ll see the same expression she expects from Jordan and Emma: betrayal.

The truck pulls up.

Doors open.

Jordan and Emma are huddled together. Afraid. Well, at least until they see Cate. Then that fear turns into something closer to disgust. Disappointment.

Jordan steps out first—hair longer than before. They look tired. Thinner. Like a flame burned too long. Their eyes flick across the quad, then land on Cate again.

Emma follows, weary, careful to stay hidden behind Jordan, orange uniform hanging loose from her body. Her lip is split. Cate doesn’t know if it’s old or new.

They both stop when they see her.

No hugs. No greetings. Just silence.

Cate steps forward.

“Hey, you guys,” she says softly.

Jordan’s mouth curls. “Brought out the welcoming committee just for us, did you? Fun.”

Cate flinches. “You were cleared this morning. By me.”

Emma tilts her head. “Why?”

Cate’s voice is steadier than she feels. “Because I owe you both more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”

Jordan crosses their arms. “You working for him now?”

Cate doesn’t answer.

Emma scoffs. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’m not working for him,” Cate says. “I’m playing him.”

Jordan laughs, but it’s bitter. “Oh, that’ll end well.”

Cate nods. “Probably not. But if you’re building something—resistance, rebellion, whatever it is—I want in.”

Emma stares at her. “You think we’d trust you after everything?”

“No,” Cate whispers. “But I’m not asking you to trust me.”

Jordan’s voice is low. “Then what are you asking?”

Cate looks at them. Really looks. At the bruises. At the weight. At the grief. At all the cracks she helped cause.

“I’m asking you to let me help fix what I broke.”

A pause.

Then you speak, soft but sharp. “She means it.”

Jordan looks at you.

Something shifts.

Emma doesn’t move. But she doesn’t turn away either.

Finally—Jordan says, “You get one shot.”

Cate nods. “That’s all I need.”

♡ | strange worship ♡ | unlikely friendship ♡ | the only exception

#ask jaime #jaime talks #cate dunlap x reader #cate dunlap x you #cate dunlap musings #cate dunlap #gen v #lesbian #sapphic #wlw #dream team #anon<3

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