#jolt 2021

[goverment-mandated-femslash]

Today's government mandated femslash couple of the day is

Detective Nevin and Lindy Lewis!

[mydarkapron]

JOLT, 2021

Tanya Wexler

[gayzing-away]

Jai Courtney in Jolt (2021)

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART FIVE

paige x azzi

word count: 8k

A/N: Alrighttyy here’s the next chapter as promised. I am so sorry in advance for the beginning it was needed for the plot and I’ve kinda been following the accuracy of their season 😔. I swear I make up for it by the end of the chapter so you guys won’t hate me. They’re taking steps that’s all I’ll say 🙂‍↕️

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December 2021 - Connecticut

The next two weeks were a noticeable shift for both Paige and Azzi. With Azzi sidelined by her foot injury, Paige took it as an opportunity to grow closer to her outside of basketball, though it often came with a bit of dramatic flair. Paige would still FaceTime Azzi at all hours of the night, her voice playful but a little over the top as she begged, "Please come to the gym, it’s so boring without you." Each call, Paige would act like the gym now felt empty without Azzi as she showed her on the camera, exaggerating how she couldn’t get anything done without her presence.

Azzi, pretending to be annoyed, would respond with something like, “You’re dramatic, Paige,” but there was always a smile hidden behind her words. She’d act like she wasn’t going to answer, rolling her eyes at the screen, but it never took long before she found herself grabbing her shoes and dragging herself over to keep Paige company.

Sometimes, she’d help her shoot around or go through drills, other times they would just sit, talking about everything and nothing at all. Paige loved to come up with silly games to pass the time, and Azzi would play along, even if her foot wasn't fully healed. It wasn’t that Azzi didn’t mind taking it easy for a while; in fact, being with Paige made it a lot easier to forget the frustration of sitting out. There was something about Paige’s energy that kept her entertained, and it made the quiet moments in between practice feel a lot less lonely.

The rest of the team noticed Paige’s shift too, though they didn’t mention it directly not wanting to mess anything up. While Paige had always been intense and all about basketball, now there was a certain lightness in her. She was taking care of herself more—spending time with Azzi, relaxing instead of overworking. She had found a balance she hadn’t had before, and it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone.

…

The clock was ticking down, and UConn was firmly in control of the game against Notre Dame, leading 73-54. The tension in the air had long lifted as the final seconds of the game wound down. Paige was dribbling the ball up the court, her focus on running out the clock. But suddenly, as her left foot hit the floor, there was a sharp stumble, and her knee buckled in a way that sent a jolt of concern through the entire arena.

Pain flashed across Paige’s face, and despite her obvious discomfort, she kept dribbling, fighting to push through it. She passed the ball to Caroline, her right leg taking the brunt of the movement as she hopped on it, trying to stay upright. With every move, her limp grew more pronounced before Paige fell just in front of the UConn bench, clutching her left leg as she hit the hardwood floor hiding her face from view.

Azzi’s stomach dropped at the sight, her eyes widening in shock. It felt like the world around her paused, the entire arena quitting as her focus narrowed only to Paige. The gym’s noise fading as she heard nothing but her heart racing.

Geno immediately called a timeout, signaling for the trainers to rush over. Azzi’s breath hitched, her legs frozen in place as her gaze remained locked on Paige, the moment causing her chest to tighten slightly. Her mind was racing, wondering what had happened, how bad it was. She was on her feet in an instant, but the trainers were already around Paige, and Azzi hesitated, not wanting to crowd them. Why did she feel like this? She had seen plenty of teammates get injured before and she was fine but right now she felt sick to her stomach.

The trainers were around Paige, speaking to her softly, trying to calm her down as her breathing was uneven. But Paige’s face was twisted in clear discomfort as she kept repeating, "My knee," her voice shaky and urgent. Azzi's gaze didn’t leave her, watching even as Evina and Amari gently lifted Paige, one on each side, helping her off the court and to the end of the bench where the trainers could work on her.

Azzi stayed back, knowing she couldn’t talk to her yet. She had to wait until the game was officially over. Her mind kept replaying the moment Paige fell, and the worry was gnawing at her. Her stomach was in knots, but she knew better than to add to the chaos.

The final buzzer sounded, and the team went through the usual handshakes with Notre Dame, but everyone’s mind was far from the celebrations. Azzi’s eyes constantly flicked over to the bench, still keeping an eye on Paige as the trainers helped her up.

Paige limped toward the locker room with the help of the trainers, frustration and pain evident on her face. She was clearly trying to fight it, to stay composed, but her limping gait told the story. Azzi could feel her chest tightening again as she followed her into the locker room.

Once inside, Paige reached for her jersey, pulling it off roughly in frustration, and tossed it across the room not caring where it landed. Azzi could see the discomfort written all over Paige’s face, her frustration clear to everyone as she threw the piece of clothing away.

Evina, not knowing what else to do but be the leader she always has, stepped in with a scolding tone. "Paige, you know that’s not how we do things here," she said sternly, her voice filled with authority though there was a hint of uncertainty this time.

Azzi, however, knew that wouldn’t make anything better. So she moved closer, stepping in between Paige and Evina, her voice softer but firm. "She has to get it out, E. You gotta let her.”

Evina paused, glancing between Azzi and Paige. She looked like she wanted to argue but finally sighed, understanding. She nodded and stepped back, giving Paige the space she needed to process everything that just happened. Azzi knelt beside her, her voice low but filled with concern. "You okay?" she asked, her hand gently resting on Paige’s knee, though she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. But she couldn’t stand seeing Paige like this—frustrated, in pain, and clearly overwhelmed.

Paige didn’t respond immediately, but her shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of the situation had finally caught up with her. Her eyes welled up with tears, and her body trembled as she whispered, "I think it’s broken, Azzi." Her voice was small, barely audible, but the fear in it was unmistakable. "I heard it crack... pop... I don’t know... it hurts like hell."

As the words left her mouth, the tears started to fall, and her shoulders shook. Azzi immediately moved closer, her arms wrapping around Paige, pulling her into a comforting embrace. The hug was a little stiff at first, the two of them never being this close in this kind of situation. But eventually Paige sunk into Azzi’ chest trying to let the younger girl soothe her as she continued to cry. Azzi didn’t say anything at first—she didn’t need to. The team, watching silently from a distance, could only stand by, understanding the gravity of the moment. Everyone knew how much this game and the season meant to Paige. To see her like this, in pain, and terrified was something none of them had even thought to prepare for.

Azzi kept her hold on Paige, gently rubbing her back, whispering soft words of reassurance. "You’re gonna be okay, Paige," she murmured, her voice steady and calming. "We’ll figure this out. It’s going to be okay."

The sound of the door opening cut through the tension, Geno entered, his presence commanding the room. He didn’t waste any time on post-game talk, his focus solely on Paige. "No talk just get changed, everyone," he ordered, his voice curt but concerned. His eyes flicked to Paige, the worry clear in his eyes.

Before anyone could move, the trainers entered with a wheelchair, approaching Paige with gentle but firm insistence. Paige, still in tears, looked up at them, her stubbornness flaring despite her pain. She shook her head violently, her voice hoarse as she snapped, "I’m not using that shit."

Azzi, who had been holding Paige, leaned back slightly and looked at her with a mix of concern and understanding. "Paige..." she began softly, trying to coax her to let the trainers help without saying it directly. But Paige, her face contorted with frustration and fear, shook her head again, this time more vehemently.

"I’m fine. I can walk," she said, but the words were more defensive than convincing. Azzi stayed quiet, knowing Paige’s stubbornness well at this point, but she wasn’t sure how to get through to her at this moment. The last thing Azzi wanted was to push Paige further into herself, but she also knew they couldn’t let her walk out on her knee.

"Paige, let them help," Azzi said quietly, her voice full of empathy but still firm. "You’re not going to get miraculously better by fighting it." She gently but firmly squeezed Paige’s shoulder, hoping to make her understand.

The rest of the team remained silent, a heavy tension hanging in the air as everyone waited for Paige’s response, not knowing how she was going to react. Finally, after a long, drawn-out moment, Paige let out a frustrated sigh, her defiance still burning but her body sagging in defeat. She didn’t speak but slowly, reluctantly, she allowed the trainers to assist her into the wheelchair.

As one of the trainers began to push the wheelchair forward, Paige’s hand hesitated at her side before reaching out. Her fingers brushed against Azzi’s, almost tentative, as if she was unsure whether she should ask for that comfort or if this was even ok to do. Azzi didn’t hesitate when she saw it. She immediately took Paige’s hand causing the blonde to let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

The subtle exchange didn’t go unnoticed. The rest of the team exchanged glances but said nothing, the weight of the moment pressing them into silence when they would usually make a joke.

Azzi remained close, walking beside her as they left the locker room, her heart aching as she watched Paige, trying her best to hide her tears. Azzi stayed silent, squeezing Paige’s hand, knowing it wasn’t the right time for empty words that wouldn’t change anything.

…

A few days later they were sitting together in Paige’s room, the tension of Paige’s injury still hanging slightly in the air, though there was a quiet calm between the two of them. Paige had her knee elevated, a heating pad resting on it, her face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. The injury was worse than she’d expected. It wasn’t just a sprain or a twist like she hoped—it was a fracture and a torn meniscus. She’d need surgery and would be out for at least two months. The weight of it all had hit her hard when she found out, and while she didn’t mind being surrounded by her teammates, right now, she only really wanted to be around one person. This thought process only added more to her confusion and frustration.

Azzi, understanding the gravity of the situation from when she tore her ACL, had been quietly sitting with her everyday, offering her presence without pressing for details. But now, as Paige spoke about her surgery, Azzi could see the hurt in her eyes.

"I’m scheduled for surgery next week,” Paige was saying, her voice quieter than usual. "They said I’ll be out for a minimum of two months. I know it’s not that long and I’m kinda lucky but it still feels like forever."

Azzi, trying to lighten the mood a little, cracked a joke. "Well, perfect timing then. You’ll be back just in time for March Madness. Look at that, you can’t even make a dent in our run!" She grinned, trying to ease the tension that was in the air.

Paige’s lips curled into a small smile, the tiniest spark of humor returning to her face. She kicked Azzi with her right leg—her healthy leg—and laughed a little, shaking her head. "Yeah, perfect timing," she muttered, her tone still tinged with sarcasm but a little lighter than before.

Azzi held her hands up in mock surrender, exaggerating her defensive stance at Paige kicking her. "Careful there, I’m mobile," she teased, easing back against the headboard of the bed. "This would be a losing game for you. You’re stuck on the bed."

Paige’s grin widened slightly, her eyes glinting with the playful defiance Azzi had grown to know so well. "You think so, huh?" she challenged, though it was clear that the teasing had pulled her out of the heavy space she’d been in for the last couple of days.

"Oh, I know so," Azzi replied, her voice playful and teasing, her smile matching Paige's as she leaned back against the headboard without a worry in the world.

Without warning, Paige’s hand shot out and she tickled Azzi’s side. Azzi squealed in surprise, instantly breaking into laughter and hopping off the bed, trying to get away from Paige’s relentless fingers.

"Hey, that’s no fair!" Paige muttered, her face lighting up with amusement as she tried to push herself up, wincing slightly at the discomfort in her knee. "I can’t get over there that fast."

Azzi pouted exaggeratedly, her laughter still bubbling out as she stood just out of reach. "Tough luck," she teased, grinning widely. "You’ve got a bum leg, so I’ll win the next few rounds."

Paige huffed, settling back into her spot on the bed, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re lucky I can’t chase you," she muttered, looking at Azzi like she was plotting her next move.

Azzi stuck out her tongue in mock defiance, still standing just out of range. "I’ll take my win. But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you next time," she teased as she sat back on the bed, crossing her arms with a satisfied grin.

Paige muttered something under her breath, her eyes downcast as she crossed her arms, her mood shifting slightly.

Azzi smirked, leaning in closer with a playful glint in her eyes. "What was that?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Paige shot back, pouting slightly, her voice almost a whisper, "Nothing, leave me alone."

Azzi couldn't resist teasing her further, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Aww, did I make the big baby sad?" she cooed, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.

Paige rolled her eyes, trying to hide the small smile threatening to break through. "Stop," she muttered, though the lighthearted teasing was clearly exactly what she needed.

Azzi grinned, enjoying the little back-and-forth, and leaned back into the bed, her eyes softening as she watched Paige. "Okay, okay. I'll stop for now," she said, giving Paige a break from the teasing, though she was clearly pleased to see the faint smile tugging at the older girl's lips.

A while later, the two of them had settled into a comfortable silence. Paige, however, found herself looking at Azzi once again, unable to stop the way her thoughts seemed to linger on her. Azzi noticed, her eyes glancing toward Paige before raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Azzi asked, a teasing edge to her voice.

Paige’s ears flushed pink, and she quickly looked down, feeling the warmth of embarrassment flood through her. "Nothing," she murmured, avoiding Azzi’s gaze. "Just thinking."

Azzi’s curiosity piqued, and she leaned in slightly, her tone soft but insistent. "About what?"

Paige didn’t immediately respond, just shook her head with a light laugh, trying to dismiss the moment. "Nothing," she repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Really."

Azzi studied her for a moment, a smile forming as she relaxed back into the bed. "Alright, keep your secrets weirdo," she teased.

Paige couldn’t help but steal a few more glances at Azzi here and there, her gaze drifting over her without meaning to. Azzi definitely noticed, but she didn’t comment, merely raising an eyebrow at Paige the few times their eyes met. Paige quickly looked away, her heart beating a little faster each time Azzi caught her staring.

She didn’t know when it started—this acute awareness of Azzi, these small details she found herself noticing more and more. Small details that shouldn’t really matter to. Her dimples when she smiled, how her laugh made Paige feel lighter just hearing it, the way Paige couldn’t help but enjoy seeing Azzi’s smile and her brown eyes light up, like they somehow brightened the entire room, how Paige just always wanted Azzi around. Maybe it had started during all the late nights in the gym or maybe it was when Azzi would drag Paige to get a “sweet treat” despite the blonde grumbling everytime. All Paige knew was she liked having Azzi around a lot more than she would admit to anyone else.

December 2021 - DMV

Paige sat on her bed in the quiet of her room, the only sound being the occasional click of her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media absentmindedly. She was struggling a bit because she missed Azzi more than she wanted to admit. Despite talking every day since they left UConn for the break, the physical distance between them made the days feel longer.

She glanced at the clock. It was still early, but she couldn't stand the silence any longer. She reached for her phone and opened FaceTime, her thumb immediately hitting the call button. She leaned back against her pillows, the soft hum of her thoughts swirling in the background, waiting for Azzi to pick up.

The call rang twice before Azzi's familiar face appeared on the screen, her expression laced with that playful, sarcastic grin Paige had come to like a little too much. "Wow you almost made it to a reasonable hour before bothering me today. Bored already?" Azzi teased, raising an eyebrow.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "What you doing?" she asked, shifting slightly on her bed to get comfortable.

Azzi panned the camera down, revealing she was lounging in bed, a pile of blankets surrounding her. "Nothing," she said casually, her voice lazy. "Just enjoying the quiet."

"Hm," Paige hummed. "What you doing today?"

Azzi’s eyes glinted with mischief. "Aww, does Paigey miss me?" she teased, her lips curving into that knowing smirk. "You’re all about me now, huh?"

Paige groaned, rolling her eyes again. "No, I’m just bored. That’s all. I’m literally stuck here with nothing to do because I can’t drive."

Azzi chuckled softly, then raised her eyebrows as if she had an idea. "Well, I’m going to a kickback with some friends from high school later. You should come with me."

Paige paused, the offer hanging in the air for a moment. She didn’t know anyone from Azzi’s high school, and she was still recovering from her surgery a week and a half ago, which made her hesitate even more. She bit her lip. "I don’t know, you know I just had surgery. And I don't really know anyone there. They probably hate me for whooping your ass all the time anyway."

Azzi rolled her eyes at the last comment before her face softened into a reassuring smile Paige had grown to be comforted by. "It’s gonna be chill, I promise. Plus you don’t gotta worry about your knee. I’ll be with you the whole time. You know I got you."

Paige’s heart fluttered at the thought of spending time with Azzi, even though she was still a little unsure. The idea of being around a bunch of strangers didn’t sound all that appealing, but the thought of being by Azzi’s side made everything feel a little more manageable.

"I don’t know..." Paige started again, but Azzi interrupted her with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Azzi coaxed, her voice playful. "Don’t be boring. I’ll take care of you I swear. And if you’re worried about the knee, I’ll literally carry you if I have to."

Paige laughed, shaking her head, though she could already feel the excitement building despite her reluctance. "Alright, fine. I’ll come. But I’m not doing anything but sitting down."

Azzi’s eyes widened, feigning surprise. "Oh, you’re so gonna dance. I’m dragging you on that floor with your stiff knee whether you like it or not."

Paige groaned, though there was a smile on her face now. "Yeah, we’ll see about that."

Azzi’s grin softened, the playfulness replaced with something warmer. "You’re coming, and that’s all that matters. I’ll make sure you’re good the whole time. Nothing you can’t handle."

Paige felt the butterflies stir in her chest as she met Azzi’s gaze through the screen. "Alright, I’m in. But if I get too tired, you’re carrying me out of there."

Azzi laughed, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Deal. But don’t think I won’t drop you if you start complaining too much."

Paige grinned. "You’re so kind to me. Really."

"Only because you’re special," Azzi teased with a smirk

Much later the conversation had gone on longer than either of them had planned, but it felt impossible to hang up. Even now, with their plans for the night set, neither seemed ready to end the call.

Glancing at the time on her screen, she groaned softly. "Alright, I really need to eat and get ready before I’m late picking you up. My phone’s about to die, and you can’t watch the magic happen."

Paige raised a brow, leaning closer to the camera as if challenging her. "Magic? Azzi, I see you every day. What could possibly be so—"

"Uh-uh," Azzi cut her off, wagging a finger at her through the screen. "This is party-ready Azzi, Paige. Not practice Azzi. There’s a difference, and I’m not giving you a sneak peek."

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. "You act like I’m going to be taking notes or something."

Azzi tilted her head, a sly smile spreading across her lips. "You might. Gotta keep some mystery alive, Paigey."

Paige let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. Go charge your phone. Leave me here. Alone. Abandoned."

Azzi grinned, leaning closer to the screen for a moment before softly saying, "You’ll survive. I’ll call you back when I’m on my way."

And just like that, the call ended, leaving Paige staring at her reflection in the now-blank screen. She let out a long sigh before tossing her phone onto the bed beside her.

…

Azzi pulled up outside Paige’s house, her headlights cutting through the early evening darkness. She grabbed her phone and shot Paige a quick text: I’m here. A few minutes later, Paige stepped out, in a hoodie, her crutches tucked under her arms. Azzi hopped out to help, her lips quirking into a teasing smile as she opened the car door for Paige.

“You know, I’m not helpless,” Paige muttered as she settled into the passenger seat.

Azzi smirked as she slid back into the driver’s seat. “I know. But it’s fun watching you try to act tough.”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.

The car ride was casual at first, filled with light chatter. Azzi talked about her old teammates and how she wasn’t sure who’d actually show up tonight. Paige mostly listened, her responses short but warm.

After a while, the conversation lulled, and Paige found herself sneaking glances at Azzi. The way the dim light from the dashboard highlighted Azzi’s features—her sharp jawline, the curve of her lips, the casual way her hand rested on the steering wheel—it was almost unfair.

Azzi caught her once, her eyes flicking over for a moment before she stopped talking and smiled. “What?”

Paige’s ears turned pink, and she looked out the window. “Nothing. Just… listening.”

“Hmm.” Azzi’s hum was teasing, but she didn’t push it, much to Paige’s relief—and frustration.

When they arrived, Azzi helped Paige out of the car, steadying her for a second as she adjusted her crutches. They walked inside together, the hum of chatter and music growing louder as they stepped into the living room. A few heads turned, and someone called out Azzi’s name.

“Azzi!” one of her old friends greeted her, pulling her into a quick hug. “Yo nice to see you. You want a drink?”

Azzi shook her head. “Nah, I’m driving. Thanks, though.”

The guy turned to Paige, his eyebrows lifting slightly in recognition. “What about you?”

Paige shook her head. “No, I’m good.”

Azzi led Paige to a couch where a few of her former teammates were sitting. They greeted her warmly, the conversation flowing easily as they caught up. Paige mostly stayed quiet. She chimed in here and there when prompted, but for the most part, she sat back, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her hoodie.

Azzi noticed and leaned closer, her voice soft so only Paige could hear. “You good?”

Paige nodded, glancing at her. “Yeah, you know me. Not the most chatty if I don’t know them.”

Azzi smiled, her voice taking on a light teasing tone. “Mmm ok. I’ll make sure I keep you company then.”

The quiet exchange helped Paige relax a little, and soon the two of them were chatting quietly, their heads close together so no one else could hear. Azzi leaned back on the couch, her arm draped casually over the backrest, while Paige leaned in slightly, her knee bouncing as they talked.

At some point, Azzi stood. “I’ll grab us some water, you look parched.”

Paige nodded, watching as Azzi disappeared into the kitchen. For a moment, she was content to sit alone, scrolling idly through her phone. But it didn’t take long for people to notice she wasn’t occupied anymore.

It started with one or two people approaching her hesitantly asking for pictures, but within a few minutes, a small crowd had gathered around her. Paige smiled politely, answering their questions and posing for pictures, though her knee started to ache from standing without her crutches that Azzi had propped up on the wall.

After talking to someone in the kitchen for a bit Azzi returned to the living room, holding two bottles of water, only to pause when she saw the scene. A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned against the doorway, watching for a moment. Of course, she should’ve known this would happen.

Still, Azzi’s smirk faded slightly when she noticed the tightness in Paige’s smile, the way her weight was shifted entirely to her right knee.

Azzi shook her head and made her way over, weaving easily through the people standing near Paige. “Alright, alright,” she said, her voice cutting through the chatter in a playful way to not draw too much attention. “Give her some room, y’all. She’s gotta rest that superstar knee.”

The crowd dispersed almost immediately, some people backing away sheepishly while others gave her a grin, clearly recognizing her from school as well. Paige glanced at her, relief flashing in her eyes as Azzi handed her one of the bottles.

“Sit,” Azzi said firmly but gently, her hand brushing Paige’s shoulder as she guided her back to the couch.

Paige exhaled as she sank back down, her fingers wrapping around the bottle. “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing sideways at Azzi.

Azzi dropped down beside her, leaning back casually. “No problem. You’re the one who decided to be famous, though,” she teased, earning a soft laugh from Paige.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sign up for this part,” Paige muttered, though her tone was light.

Azzi chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Welcome to the life, Bueckers.

As the crowd thinned out around them, Paige and Azzi settled back into their own bubble of conversation. Paige leaned back against the couch, her bottle of water balanced on her knee. Azzi, ever relaxed, stretched out beside her, one arm resting along the back of the couch.

“So,” Azzi said, her voice soft but teasing, “you having fun yet?”

Paige smiled faintly, glancing at her. “I guess. It’s... different.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Different good or different bad?”

“Good,” Paige replied quickly, then hesitated before adding, “Probably because I’m here with you. If it was anyone else I would be miserable.”

Azzi froze mid-sip of her water, her eyebrow arching higher as she set the bottle down. “Wait a second,” she said, her tone dripping with playful suspicion. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Paige?”

Paige’s eyes widened slightly at the accusation, her ears turned red as she stumbled over her words. “No! I—I was just saying—”

Azzi leaned closer, giving her an amused, knowing look. “Mhm. Sure you were.”

Paige groaned, looking away to hide her flustered expression. “I wasn’t,” she mumbled, though her voice lacked conviction.

Azzi let it go—for now—but the teasing smile never left her lips as she leaned back, clearly picking up on Paige’s reaction.

A little while later though Azzi knew she wasn’t making things up in her head.

One of Azzi’s friends walked by, their arm brushing against Azzi’s as they held a drink, and in the process, the liquid sloshed over the edge, spilling onto Azzi’s shirt.

“Dude you’re drunk!” Azzi exclaimed with a laugh, pulling her shirt away from her skin as it stuck to her chest uncomfortably.

“Sorry!” her friend called back, but Azzi just waved it off.

Paige, however, couldn’t help but glance down. The damp fabric clung to Azzi’s chest, highlighting the curves beneath. She quickly looked away, but it was too late. Azzi had caught her.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes glinted with something as she grabbed a napkin to dab at the spill. After a moment, she set the napkin down and turned toward Paige, her movements a little slow.

“What were you looking at Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice low and teasing as she leaned in slightly

“Nothing!” Paige said quickly, though her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.

Azzi smirked, inching closer until Paige instinctively leaned back against the wall, Azzi made her stand by in the name of getting her knee used to standing. Azzi placed a hand on the table beside Paige, her other hand reaching up to twirl a strand of Paige’s hair around her finger.

“Hmm,” Azzi mused, tilting her head as she studied Paige’s flustered expression. “You sure? Because it kinda looked like you were... distracted.”

Paige swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I wasn’t.”

Azzi’s smirk deepened as she fluttered her eyelashes, leaning just a fraction closer. “Paigey...” she whispered, her voice almost a purr. “Do you have a crush on me?”

The words sent a jolt through Paige, and she found herself nodding before she could think, her brain short-circuiting under Azzi’s gaze.

Azzi blinked, momentarily surprised by the response, but then her expression softened into something almost unreadable. Her hand stilled in Paige’s hair, her thumb brushing against the strand lightly before she pulled back with a smile.

“Well,” Azzi said softly, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and something else Paige couldn’t quite place. “Good to know.”

Paige stared at her, still trying to process what had just happened, as Azzi settled back into her seat on the couch, acting like nothing had happened. But the glint in her eyes and the slight curve of her lips said otherwise.

Azzi kept her teasing smile as she leaned back into the couch, picking up her drink and taking a casual sip. Paige, still frozen against the wall, tried to compose herself.

“So,” Azzi said after a moment, glancing sideways at Paige, “what’s going on in that head of yours, huh?”

Paige forced a laugh, her voice slightly shaky. “Nothing. Just... thinking about how weird this party is.”

Azzi smirked, clearly not buying it, but she let it slide. “Weird, huh? I don’t know—seems pretty normal to me.” She raised an eyebrow, her tone playful. “Or are you just feeling weird because I called you out?”

Paige groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Azzi, please. Don’t start.”

Azzi chuckled. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

Before Paige could respond, someone called Azzi over to the kitchen. She excused herself, leaving Paige to sit there, her thoughts swirling.

When Azzi returned a few minutes later, she plopped back down beside Paige with two more fresh waters. “Here,” she said, handing one to Paige.

“Thanks,” Paige muttered, her cheeks still faintly pink.

Azzi grinned as she twisted the cap off her own bottle. “You’re welcome. You good now, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

Paige glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. “You’re the worst.”

“Nah,” Azzi said, leaning back lazily and tossing her arm along the back of the couch, close enough that her hand brushed Paige’s shoulder. “Apparently you like me too much to think that.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched, betraying the smile she was trying to suppress.

As the night went on, the two of them fell into their usual rhythm of casual conversation as if nothing happened. Paige occasionally chimed in when Azzi’s friends asked her a question, but for the most part, she stayed content in her role as an observer.

It wasn’t until they were heading home that Azzi brought it up again.

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine and SZA playing quietly in the background filling the space between them. Paige stared out the window, her knee bouncing slightly in a restless rhythm.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who talks so much,” Azzi said, breaking the silence.

Paige glanced at her, her fingers tightening slightly around her phone she was holding. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi replied, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Paige shifted, trying to focus on the passing streetlights. But then Azzi glanced over at her, catching the faint way Paige’s eyes flickered toward her hands on the steering wheel.

“You keep looking at me,” Azzi said suddenly, a sly grin tugging at her lips.

“I am not!” Paige said, her voice shooting up an octave as her ears turned red.

Azzi laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind. I actually kinda like it.”

Paige groaned, sinking into her seat. “Can we not do this right now?”

Azzi shrugged, her grin never faltering. “Fine. I’ll save it for later.”

Paige sighed, but her lips twitched despite herself hanging on to the way Azzi said she liked it. She glanced at Azzi again out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way the passing streetlights highlighted her profile—her relaxed grip on the wheel, the faint smirk tugging at her lips, the calm confidence she always seemed to carry now.

Deciding to be a little bold and before she could second-guess herself, Paige blurted, “You looked really good tonight.”

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and for a moment, the car was silent except for the hum of the music. She glanced at Paige briefly, her expression unreadable, before a small smile curved her lips.

“Thank you Paige,” Azzi said softly, her voice quieter than usual.

Paige’s ears burned, and she quickly turned her gaze back to the window, biting back a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”

Azzi chuckled, the warm sound filling the space between them. “Too late.”

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but Paige couldn’t shake the small, knowing smile Azzi wore the rest of the way home.

As they pulled into Paige’s driveway, Azzi shifted the car into park. She glanced at Paige, her earlier teasing replaced by a softer expression. “Well, here you are, safe and sound.”

Paige hesitated, fiddling with her seatbelt. “Do you, um… do you want to stay over? It’s late, and I’d rather you not drive home alone.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her gaze. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Paige rolled her eyes, already pushing the door open. “Azzi, just come in. It’s not a big deal.”

Azzi chuckled softly, unbuckling her seatbelt and following Paige to the door.

When they stepped inside, the faint sound of video game explosions filled the living room. Drew, was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, his eyes glued to the screen.

Paige sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Yo what are you still doing up?”

Drew jumped up, his boundless energy kicking in as soon as he noticed her. “Paige!” he exclaimed, jumping toward her before his attention shifted to Azzi. His eyes widened slightly, and he hurried to put the controller down, becoming more calm.

“I’m Drew,” he said confidently, holding out his hand like a little gentleman.

Azzi smiled, shaking his hand. “Azzi. Nice to meet you.”

Drew grinned up at her, his voice brimming with admiration. “You’re really pretty.”

Azzi laughed softly, her gaze flicking to Paige. “That seems to be a thing for the Bueckers family tonight.”

Paige groaned, already starting to head toward the stairs, albeit slowly due to her knee. “Oh my god, Drew, go to bed,” she called over her shoulder.

Azzi followed behind her, suppressing a grin as Drew called after them. “Goodnight, Azzi!”

Azzi’s laughter echoed softly as they climbed the stairs, and Paige shook her head, muttering, “I don’t know where he gets it from.”

When they reached Paige’s room, she pushed the door open and gestured for Azzi to come in. “You can hang out in here for a sec I’ll grab you something to drink.”

Azzi stepped inside, taking in the trophies, photos, and basketball memorabilia that decorated the space. “Nice room,” she said, settling onto the edge of Paige’s bed.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Paige teased, disappearing to the kitchen.

Azzi leaned back slightly, her gaze lingering on the doorway where Paige had just disappeared. Her smile softened, and she shook her head, amused at how easily the night had taken such an unexpected—yet intriguing—turn. Anyone with eyes could see that Paige was attractive but Azzi never let thoughts linger too much of anything beyond that. But now Azzi sat there thinking about her and Paige’s dynamic, it definitely wasn’t lost on Azzi how much time they had spent together. How Paige was able to get her out of the bed at all hours of the night with just a FaceTime call. How easily they had fallen into each other's orbit after breaking past the tension they once had.

When Paige returned to her room, she found Azzi standing by her shelf, studying a framed photo of Paige with her teammates. “You were tiny in this,” Azzi commented with a small smile, glancing over her shoulder.

Paige set the drink down on her nightstand, rolling her eyes as she started undoing her bulky metal knee brace. “I wasn’t that small. You were just as scrawny back then.”

Azzi smirked, turning to face her fully. “Yeah, but now I’ve got muscles. You’re still trying to catch up.”

“Whatever,” Paige shot back with a grin, adjusting her leg with a slight wince as she set the brace aside. She got up and moved to her dresser, rummaging through the drawers until she found a soft hoodie and a pair of shorts. “Here,” she said, holding them out to Azzi. “I already put a toothbrush for you in the bathroom.”

Azzi walked over, taking her time as she crossed the room. When she reached for the clothes, her fingers deliberately brushed against Paige’s. The subtle touch lingered just a second too long, and when Paige glanced up, Azzi’s eyes were unreadable but warm.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, her voice light but carrying a hint of something Paige couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” Paige mumbled, quickly stepping back as if the proximity was suddenly overwhelming.

Azzi’s lips curved into a faint smirk, and without another word, she turned and headed for the bathroom. Paige watched her go, her stomach twisting in a way that was both confusing and exciting.

The soft click of the bathroom door brought Paige back to reality, and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She flopped onto her bed, pressing her hands over her face as her mind replayed the look in Azzi’s eyes

When Azzi emerged from the bathroom, the sound of her footsteps was soft but enough to draw Paige's attention. Glancing up from her phone, Paige’s eyes immediately caught on Azzi’s figure as she crossed the room. The oversized hoodie hung loosely on Azzi’s frame, her toned legs visible beneath the hem of her shorts. Her damp curly hair tumbled around her shoulders in an effortless way that made her look almost ethereal.

Paige gulped, quickly averting her gaze before she got caught staring. She swung her knee over the edge of the bed slowly and stood, grabbing her clothes. "I’m gonna hop in the shower now," she said, her voice sounding a little too rushed. "Be right back."

Azzi, who was checking her phone, gave a nonchalant hum of acknowledgment. "Take your time. Don’t hurt yourself, though."

Paige shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that helpless, you know."

Azzi smirked, not looking up. "Sure, you’re not."

With that, Paige escaped into the bathroom, closing the door and letting out a long breath she didn’t know she was holding. What is wrong with me? she thought as she set her clothes down and began the careful process of getting in the shower.

The shower helped clear her head, but it took longer than she anticipated with her knee, which was stiff from the day. By the time she emerged, dressed in her own oversized hoodie and shorts, her hair still damp, she felt a little more composed. That composure, however, faltered the moment she stepped into the room.

Azzi was laid out on Paige’s bed, her hair in curls sprawled everywhere as she scrolled through her phone. She looked entirely too comfortable, her body stretched out and her face lit by the soft glow of the screen.

Paige froze for a moment, her stomach fluttering. Something about seeing Azzi so relaxed in her space made her heart skip a beat. "You look a little too at home," Paige teased, trying to cover the nervousness in her voice.

Azzi turned her head, a slow grin spreading across her face. "You’re the one who invited me in. What did you expect?"

Paige scoffed, moving toward the bed with her hands tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. "Just don’t hog all the pillows," she muttered, sinking down onto the mattress.

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes glinting with amusement. "No promises. You know I sleep a little crazy sometimes."

Paige rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she settled against the headboard. Despite the teasing, the air between them was warm, and Paige found herself relaxing, even if the butterflies in her stomach were stubbornly refusing to settle.

Azzi’s gaze flicked down to Paige’s leg, the faint furrow of concern returning. "Hey," she said, her voice softer now. "Before we knock out, let’s switch spots. You should be on the inside, where your knee’s by the wall."

Paige blinked at her. "I’m fine, Azzi. You don’t have to—"

"Humor me," Azzi interrupted, sitting up and giving her an expectant look. "I’d rather not accidentally knee you in the middle of the night."

Paige hesitated for a moment before sighing dramatically. "Fine. But if I wake up smooshed against the wall, I’m blaming you."

Azzi grinned, already shifting so Paige could scoot over. As Paige moved, Azzi reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a cozy darkness. The faint light from the street outside filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns on the walls as the two of them settled into place.

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound was the faint rustling of blankets as they got comfortable. The tension was noticeable, though not unpleasant. This was different from the other times they’d ended up in the same bed—those moments had been accidental, born of exhaustion or laziness. The two of them falling asleep watching a movie or Azzi throwing a pillow at Paige in the middle of the night after the blonde fell asleep on Azzi’s beanbag telling her to get in the bed. But now, they were both wide awake, fully aware of each other’s presence in the shared space.

Paige lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Azzi beside her. She could feel the faint warmth of Azzi’s arm, just inches from her own, and it took everything in her not to glance over.

"Well, this isn’t awkward at all," Azzi said suddenly, her soft chuckle breaking the silence.

Paige turned her head, giving her a mock glare. "You saying that made it awkward."

Azzi smirked, rolling her eyes. "No, it didn’t. I was just stating a fact."

"It was fine until you opened your mouth," Paige teased, her voice light but edged with humor.

"Okay, so if I stop talking, we’ll be back to normal?" Azzi challenged, her tone playful as she shifted onto her side to face Paige.

Paige’s lips twitched upward. "I don’t know. I feel like the damage is already done."

"Wow," Azzi said dramatically. "Way to make me feel self-conscious."

"Good," Paige shot back, smiling now.

Azzi shook her head, grinning as she propped her head up on her hand. Her dark eyes studied Paige for a moment before she asked, "So, was today exhausting for you? Or are you secretly a robot and just pretending to be tired?"

Paige laughed softly, glancing at the ceiling. "No, it was exhausting. My knee’s sore from all the moving around, and my social battery is completely drained."

Azzi’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across her face. "Your knee’s sore? Why didn’t you say anything?"

Paige shrugged. "It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve had worse days."

Azzi hummed, not entirely convinced but letting it slide. Her gaze lingered on Paige’s face as the faint light from the window shifted, casting a soft glow that made the blue in Paige’s eyes seem impossibly bright.

For a moment, Azzi found herself captivated, the vivid color catching her off guard. It reminded her of the sky after a storm, a striking clarity that was hard to look away from.

"You’re really pretty, Paige," Azzi murmured, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Paige turned her head fully toward Azzi, her cheeks flushing slightly. A shy smile crept onto her lips as she whispered back, "You’re really pretty too, Azzi."

Azzi’s heart skipped at Paige’s response, the quiet sincerity in her voice making the moment feel heavier in the best way. Neither of them looked away, the stillness between them now filled with an unspoken understanding.

"Do your eyes always look like that?" Azzi asked softly, almost to herself.

Paige blinked, confused. "Like what?"

"That blue," Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They seem…different."

Paige’s blush deepened, and she bit her bottom lip to hide her growing smile. "I guess… I don’t know they’re just eyes, Azzi." Paige said, trying to hide just how much those words affected her.

"If you say so," Azzi said, the words so quiet they barely reached Paige’s ears.

The softness of Azzi’s tone settled over them like a blanket, and neither of them spoke again. Paige slowly turned onto her side to look at Azzi, her exhaustion catching up with her as her eyelids began to droop. Azzi stayed where she was, her gaze lingering on Paige’s relaxed features until she finally let herself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment, her eyes closing as she softly held Paige’s forearm.

[sparkleofpizza]

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Norris and Button traveling around the world together.

THE 2021 SEASON

PRE SEASON TESTING  Sakhir, Bahrein, 2021 

The McLaren office is silent as I scan over the list of reporters that will be present for the pre-season testing. This is my first time at a testing of Formula 1 and also my first day at the job as not an intern, but as a junior PR assistant. 

I’m nervous, again, just like I was the first day as an intern two years ago. Sophie isn’t here this week, she told me she wanted to see how I’d deal with this by myself, considering pre-season is supposed to be a bit more chill, as I only have to deal with the press and not the fans as well. 

As I finally finish jolting down the necessary notes, I get my phone and smooth down my skirt. I’m trying to appear more professional, wearing a skirt and a button down shirt. 

I walk out of McLaren and onto the eerily quiet paddock. I spot Lando talking to Daniel Ricciardo, his new teammate. The fellow brit waves me over and I smile walking to them. 

“Hey guys.” I smile, standing beside Lando who grins at me. 

Once again I have the same thought as I did earlier this week when I saw Lando for the first time since my five week vacation with my family. What the fuck. 

There was something different about him, I don’t know what it is, but he’s different. I don’t know if he changed something in his hair routine, or is trying out a new workout with his personal trainer. Or if he had an attitude change. There is something different about him, and I can’t get my heart to beat normally around him. 

The two McLaren drivers include me in their conversation and we carry on talking normally. There’s a new dynamic here, Daniel and Lando, the new duo, but they get along well and I can’t help but think that it’s because it’s humanly impossible to dislike Lando. He’s just so… Wow. 

“Mick!” I squeal in delight once I spot the new Haas driver walking side by side with Sebastian. 

Mick Shumacher smiles big once he sees me and I run to him, tackling him with a hug. He catches me with ease and spins me around before putting my feet back on the ground. 

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you here!” 

“I’m happy to see you here, as well!” He says back, matching grin on his face. 

Our eyes are wide and we look like hyperactive children. 

Sebastian sighs dramatically “Will we have to keep you both separated again?” 

Daniel smirks, piping into the conversation. 

“Again?”

Sebastian nods, looking as if he’s in pain. 

“They once set a car on fire.” 

Mick and I yell in protest. 

Daniel’s eyes are wide and Lando arches an eyebrow at me. 

“It was a plastic car.” I explain. 

“And someone who was supposed to be baby sitting us let us loose at the Red Bull garage” Mick complements. 

Daniel laughed delighted, throwing his head back and Lando cracks a small smile, which is extremely unsual of him.

“Hey, don’t put this on me.” Sebastian defends himself “She was an angel and you were an overall well behaved child. How would I know you’d corrupt her sweetness in such a short amount of time?” 

Mick grins as he shrugs “We weren’t that bad.” 

“Didn’t you call Kimi once because you two got drunk and he would be the nicest of the bunch to pick you up?” 

I smile at the memory “Yeah, we called Kimi and he took care of me and then yelled at Mick for being a bad influence.” 

Mick shudders as he recalls the night Kimi Raikonnen yelled at him as he scolded the Shumacher young boy. 

“Oh damn, the iceman went all out on you.” Daniel laughes again. 

This time Lando joins in on the laugher, but his eyes are focused on me and he has his arms crossed. 

Imola, Italy, 2021 

Lando has been a bit weird for past few weeks, ever since Bahrein, which is confusing. Pre season testing went great, the first race of the season he managed to get p4. Still, he was in a kind of bad mood. 

I’ve been watching the race intensely from the McLaren garage, once there are only four laps left, I go wait for him at parc fermé. Lando’s gonna get a podium, the first podium of the season and his second podium of his career. 

I try to keep a professional appearance as I stand at parc ferme. He parks his car at p3. He hasn’t taken off his helmet yet, but I can tell from his body language that he is buzzing with excitement. 

Lewis and Max clap him on the back and he runs to his team. I try to keep a smile at bay, I know there are lots of cameras on me right now, wanting to get the attention of the girl who only got the job because of her daddy. 

He takes off his helmet and balaclava after he weighs down and his eyes lock on me. 

Lando grins, placing his helmet at the table and takes large steps to where I am. Before I can even process he scoops me up in his arms and squishes my body. 

“I got p3.” He mumbled onto my neck. 

“You did. It was amazing.” I smile as I let him continue to squeeze me in a tight hug “Congratulations Lan.” 

“I did that.” He says, emphatically on the I. “You saw what I did, right? You were paying attention to me at the race, weren’t you?” 

I’m a bit confused at what he means by that, but nod. 

“Yes, of course, Lan.” 

“Good.” He mumbled, finally letting go of me, but his hands continued on my body “You’re here with me, Norris and Button traveling the world. No one else is part of that.” 

I nod, still not following what he means by that. Lando stares at me with those beautiful eyes and smiles. 

What is going on? 

Barcelona, Spain, 2021 

The Sainz family, as sweet and welcoming as ever, invited me and Lando to have dinner with them. It's Carlos' home race, but we all still keep our friendship up and his father loves to have us around, mostly Lando who shares his love for golf and I’m pretty sure became an honorary son to him. 

As we sit in a restaurant I take on the opportunity that Lando, who’s across from me, is engaged in a conversation with Caco, so I turn to Carlos. 

“Hey… have you also noticed that Lando has been acting a bit weird this year?” I ask him in a low tone so no one else but me, him and his girlfriend Isa can hear. 

Carlos’ tilt his head to the side a bit confused while Isa smiles fondly at me. 

“No, not really. He’s been normal.” 

Isa lightly taps his arm and they seem to have a silent conversation before Carlos turns to me again, a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes. 

“Oh, pequeñita. You haven’t noticed yet, have you?” 

“Notice what?” I question him, even more confused than before. 

“It’s because of Shumacher.” 

I frown “Mick? What does Mick have to do with Lando’s weird behavior?” 

Isa laughs softly as she leans closer to me. 

“You know what that means, he’s jealous of Mick.” 

I widened my eyes incredulously. 

“Jealous? But why?!” 

The couple share another glance before Carlos pats my head in a sweet but annoying gesture. 

I grow a bit annoyed with the fact that they won’t tell me why, but I decide to keep quiet and not say anything else. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own. 

Le Castellet, France, 2021 

Daniel flanked me through the paddock, a frown on his usual smiley face. He was pissed, I had never seen him pissed off before. 

I had arrived at the paddock with him, Lando had arrived earlier as he rode with Carlos. 

When we got out of the van there were fans waiting for Daniel and he stopped for pictures and autographs. There was a small child with their parents who gushed me over, as they had been Jenson Button’s fans. They asked for a picture and I couldn’t say no when they were so sweet. And that’s when the shit show went down. 

Some fans, overhearing our conversation, started to shout bad words at me. They called me an opportunist, said I didn’t deserve my job, they called me a whore, accused me of sleeping with the drivers so I’d keep my job. 

I was frozen in place, I didn’t know how to react. I had never been publicly hated before, it was already horrible to read those things online, but hearing them being shouted to my face, it was much much worse. 

Daniel snapped the minute he heard those words. He told the fans off, called security and took me inside the paddock and quickly to the McLaren hospitality. 

Lando was lounging on the couch when Daniel slammed the door open, he was on his feet the minute he saw our body language. 

“What happened?” He rushed over to me. When I didn’t say anything he turned to Daniel “What happened?” 

“Some fucking assholes saying fucking bullshit to her.” Daniel answered angrily. 

And it’s like things finally clicked in place and I realized what happened. The tears came out in waves. 

Lando was quick to wrap his arms around me, cradling my head on the crock of his neck. 

Daniel explained to him what the fans had been saying outside the paddock and Lando only held me tighter as I cried. 

“Come on, let’s go to my driver's room.” He mumbled once he realized some of the McLaren staff had been looking at us. “You’ll be much more comfortable there, love.” 

Still keeping me in his arms, he walked me to his driver's room, closing the door shut behind us. He guides me to the couch, sitting me in between his legs and still holding me close. 

Lando caressed my hair as he whispered reassuring words into my ear. 

“I’ll never be good enough for them.” I sob onto his neck “No matter what I do, I will never be able to prove myself. I should just give up… yeah, yeah… I’m gonna quit my job.” 

“Hey, no!” Lando says sternly. He pulls my face off his neck and cups it in his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You’re not quitting. I’m not letting you give up, that’s not happening. Not now, not ever.” 

He wipes away my tears with his thumbs. 

“You are good enough. You’re more than good enough.” He tells me. “You have been doing an amazing job. You’re not here because of your father.” 

“But my dad helped me get this job.” I protest, still softly crying. 

“Yes, he did help you get the job and you never denied it, you’ve been vocal about getting this jump start.” He nods “But it wasn’t your dad that made you keep the job. It wasn’t your dad that made you get the promotion from intern to junior assistant. It was all you. It was your talent, your professionalism, your hard work. It was you, only you.” 

I stare at him, processing his words. 

“And those assholes that said those things to you? They are nothing but pathetic people who need to put others down to feel good about themselves. You don’t owe them anything. “ 

I nod slowly, my tears finally slowing down as he still has my face in between his hands. Lando smiles softly at me. 

“You are incredible, love, I wish you could see how amazing you are.” 

He leans in, placing a soft tender kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes, enjoining his affection. 

Lando lets go of my face, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as he leans back on the couch, making me lie on his chest. One of his hands rests on my hip, holding me close. 

I take a deep breath, snuggling against him and keeping my eyes closed. 

Silverstone, England, 2021 

“And then, he refuses to let her buy her own records!” I exclaim to Lando. “So she didn’t own her own music anymore. The music she worked her whole life on!” 

We were sitting at the McLaren hospitality together. It was way too hot outside at the Silverstone circuit so the two of us were sitting inside, where there was air conditioning, and we were having ice cream. 

“But, Taylor is really smart, and she decided to re-record her albums. So if there is a Taylor’s version after it it means she owns it. And she releases songs from the vault that are songs she wrote originally for that album but that got cut off.” 

Lando nods along to what I’m saying, a small smile on his lips. 

“And she’s releasing��� purple Taylor’s version in November?” He asks me. 

I chuckle, “It’s red Taylor’s version.” 

“Oh, I see…” he hums “Why red?” 

“It’s her favorite color. Oh, I can’t wait to dress in full red on the release album date.” 

“That’s a no.” He shakes his head. 

I tilt my head to the side confused “What do you mean that’s a no?” 

“I’m not letting you dress in red! Red is Ferrari’s color and you're a McLaren girl.” 

I place a spoonful of chocolate ice cream in my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue before smiling mischievously at him. 

“Everybody is a Ferrari fan.” I tease him.

“No! No! You’re not quoting Sebastian Vettel to me!” He exclaims dramatically “I already lost my best friend to Ferrari, I can’t lose my girl too!” 

I felt the blush taking control of my cheeks when he called me his girl. 

“Not happening. Doesn’t she have a papaya album?” 

I shake my head, still a bit dazed with his words. 

“The closest she has to an orange tone is her evermore album that is more of a terracota.” 

Lando nods “That works for me, it’s better than a red themed one.” 

I giggle at him, poking his side.

“I can’t believe you’re mad over an album color theme.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he has an affectionate smile on his face. 

Magyórod, Hungry, 2021 

The knocking on the door startled me awake. I jump in bed, rubbing my eyes as I click on the screen of my phone. It’s midnight. I frown wondering who it could be at this time of night. 

I throw the blankets to the side as I pad quietly to the door. I open just a tiny bit to see who it is. 

Lando smiles big when he sees my face. I sigh in relief that it’s a familiar person, I open the door wider and there he is. Standing in a hoodie and sweatpants and holding a birthday cake. 

“Happy birthday!” He exclaims.

I widen my eyes, having completely forgotten it is my birthday. 

“Thank you, Lan!” I smile, stepping to the side to let him into the room. 

Lando walks to the table and places the cake there. I follow him close behind as I look at the beautifully decorated cake. In a cursive letter it’s written I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22! 

“Oh my god, you got me a Taylor Swift birthday cake!” 

Lando grins before wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. 

“Of course, how couldn’t I get a 22 birthday themed cake for the 22 year old girl who’s obsessed with Taylor Swift?” 

I smile as I squeeze him in the hug. 

“You’re the best of the best of the best!” I squeak happily. 

He smiles before kissing my temple.

“You only deserve the best.” 

We stayed hugging for a few more minutes, enjoying the hug before pulling away. I smile at him again, that’s all I do when I’m around him, and I grab his hand pulling him towards the bed. 

“Sleep over?” I ask softly as he sits together in the fluffy bed. 

“Yes.” He nods. 

Lando looks nervous for a moment and I get concerned I might have crossed a boundary of asking him to stay over, although it won’t be the first time we slept on the same bed. 

He sighs before putting his hand inside his hoodie pocket and pulling out a velvet box from inside of it. He smiles nervously before handing it to me. 

“Your birthday present.” He mumbled 

I gasp as I open the box. Inside of it there’s a beautiful gold necklace, the pendant is a heart with its outside full of tiny pink swarovskis. I take the delicate jewelry in my hands as I turn it around, on the back of the heart it’s written LN. 

“Lando…” I murmur 

“I-I wanted to have my… my initials on it so you ’d… so you’d always have me close to you.” He mumbled awkardly, his cheeks pink.

“It’s beautiful.” I smile “I love it. Thank you.” 

I turn back to him and pull my hair to the side “Can you put it on me, please?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Lando’s hands are a bit shaky as he places the necklace around my neck, his fingertips bringing goosebumps to my skin. 

I turn around again and his eyes fall to my neck and chest, where the heart necklace he gave me rests. He smiles proudly. 

“It looks beautiful on you.” He said, lifting his eyes to look at me “You’re beautiful.” 

I smile, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek. 

“Thank you, Lan. I’m never taking this off.” 

He grins harder, leaning over and placing a kiss on my cheek as well. 

SUMMER BREAK 

Mallorca, Spain, 2021 

“Retirement huh?” I ask Kimi Raikkonen as we’re enjoining the beach in Mallorca 

It’s not usual for the Raikkonen family to join us during summer break, along with the Rosbergs and Vettels. Lewis used to come along with Roscoe but since his fallout with Nico he never joined us again - even after when I was seventeen and I called him crying asking him to join us because my dad was retiring and we should all spend one last summer together. He came, after Nico left. Those dramatic middle aged men. 

Kimi gives me a lazy smile, which also isn’t usual contrary to popular belief. He has his sunglasses on and is building a sandcastle with me and his two children, Robin and Rianna. 

“Eh, racing is a hobby and I got tired of it.” He shrugs “Now I’m more into dirty bike riding.” 

I chuckle, shaking my head “Somehow that sounds even worse than driving cars in circles.” 

Robin gives me a bright smile as he says “Don’ wowwy, I race car soon in Formula 1 and you cheer I!” 

I smile at him, ruffling his blonde hair “Of course, Rob! I wouldn’t dare to cheer for anyone else but you!” 

The little boy seems content as he goes back to building the sandcastle. Rianna actually grew bored of it a few minutes ago and is now busy with playing, tugging, at my hair. 

“Who’s he?” Kimi asks suddenly. 

“What?” I frown confused. 

“The boy who gave you the necklace.” 

“Oh.” I feel my cheeks warm up, truth to my words I have indeed been wearing the necklace Lando gave me all the time. “Lando gave me as a birthday gift.” 

I can see the furrow on Kimi’s eyebrows even if he’s wearing sunglasses. 

“That thing made a move on you?!” He exclaims “I’m running him off track when we’re back from summer break.” 

“What? No!” I shake my head “It’s just a necklace.” 

“A custom heart shaped necklace! It’s like he has a death wish or something.” He whips his head to the side “Sebastian! Come here! Now!” 

Seb, who was peacefully napping under the umbrella, sits startled at Kimi’s urgent call. He runs to us. 

“Norris made a move on her!” 

“What?” Sebastian asks scandalized “He did what? That little asshole!” 

“He didn’t do anything, Seb.” I explain as I point to my necklace “Kimi is just freaking out over the birthday gift Lando gave me.” 

Seb sits on the sand beside me, leaning closer to scan the necklace. 

“Yeah, I’m running him off track when the summer break is over.” 

“That’s what I said!” Kimi smiles big “We’re running him off track together so he doesn’t have anywhere to escape to.” 

Seb hums, nodding his head “That’s a good plan.” 

I look at them in exasperation “No one is running anyone off track.” 

They ignore me as they keep plotting. 

“Hey!” I snap at them and the two grown men finally look at me “Lando and I are just friends, stop this. And even if we weren’t, I’m 22, I’m allowed to date.” 

They share a look before laughing. 

“No, you’re not allowed to date.” Seb says, still chuckling “You’re funny, prinzessin.” 

I glare at them but they only continue to laugh at me. 

“You’re still the first pieni vauva, you always will be.” Kimi grins at me “And that means you’re only allowed to date when you’re… fifty.” 

“You’re both ridiculous.” I scoff but I have a small smile on my lips. 

Deep down I know they don’t actually mean it. But I have to keep an eye out so that they won’t threaten Lando or something like that. 

Monza, Italy, 2021 

“You’re here!” Lando yelled over the loud music, arms open wide and a drink in his hand. He was for sure already drunk. 

Daniel had won the Monza Grand Prix and Lando came just in second, it was the first time in his F1 career he had gotten p2. The team had decided to go out to celebrate at a club and some other drivers joined in - Max Verstappen, who had a terrible race and dnf, was there drinking the night away to celebrate his best friend and also drown his feelings. 

I stepped up to where Lando stood and smiled at him. 

“Yeah, sorry it took me too long.” I let him hug me “I couldn’t decide what to wear.” 

Lando grabbed my hand, twirling me around and whistling as my sparkly short blue dress shone under the club lights. 

“You certainly made a great choice.” He smirked at me “You look incredible.” 

I feel my cheeks grow warm. 

“Thank you.” 

I went over to the bar to order myself a drink and Lando followed me close behind. As I stood leaning over the bar to order my drink, I could feel his warm chest against my back. 

I stood up straight as I waited for the bartender, and I tilted my head to the side to look at Lando who was already looking down on me. 

He's wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, but he’s wearing his damn cap backwards. He always looks fucking good when he wears it backwards and it actually makes me weak in the knees seeing him so up close like this, his chest pressed against my back.

I’m snapped out of it when the bartender hands me my drink. I thank him before letting Lando lead me back to where the rest of our group is. I sip on my drink, letting the alcohol flow through me and relax me. 

Carlos is dancing with Charles while Max laughs at their terrible moves. Daniel is screaming the music as he hugs Zac and they both sway side to side. 

I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they look. 

Lando grins at me as he’s sitting on a stool, his left arm resting on top of the table. 

“Come here.” He says as he wiggles two of his fingers for me to get closer. 

When I’m at reach distance, he turns me around and pulls me to stand in between his legs. My back hits his chest and he wraps an arm around my waist, keeping me close. 

My breath hitches as he does this so effortlessly and as if it’s normal to hug me from behind. 

“They’re gonna be all over Instagram and Twitter tomorrow.” Lando whispers in my ear “They look ridiculous.” 

I chuckle “They really do.” I sip my drink “Aren’t you gonna join them?” 

I feel his laugh against the side of my face. 

“Are you calling me ridiculous?” He asks in feign hurt. 

I giggle, craning my neck a bit to the side so I can see his face. He has a smug smile on his lips. 

“You ridiculous? Never!” I giggle harder when he squeezes my waist in a playful warning “It’s just that usually you’re the life of the party and right now you’re sitting on a stool drinking peacefully.” 

Lando smiles, his dimples even more evident as the pulsing lights of the club shine on his face. 

“Can you blame me for wanting to stay here with the prettiest girl in the club?” 

Once again I feel my cheeks grow warm, but since I’ve already had drunk, my mind is a bit dazed so I smile at him. 

“Really? And where is this pretty girl?” I ask him in a tease. 

He smirks, squeezing my waist again and relishing in me squirming against his chest. 

“She’s right here… in my arms.” He mumbled before placing a long lasting kiss on my cheek. “The prettiest girl in the club.” He moves his lips a bit down and kisses my jaw “The prettiest girl I have ever seen.” 

I feel my heart flutter in my chest at his words and at his touch. I know he’s drunk and doesn’t mean any of it, but for a night I can pretend he does mean it, so I let him hold me close. 

Cidade do México, México, 2021 

“Oh, Mick…” I whisper as I hug him, softly rubbing his back “It’s okay… this kind of thing happens.” 

Mick huffs annoyed against my shoulder. He crashed into Yuki Tsnuoda during the race today and they both had a DNF. 

“You’re both rookies… that’s normal to happen.” 

I apparently said the wrong thing because the German boy lifted his head from my shoulder, our face millimeters apart as he glared at me. 

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” He mumbled angrily “You’re not even a driver.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him “There’s no need to take out your frustration on me, I’m not the one who crashed your car.” 

We keep staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down. Eventually Mick sighs and goes back to burying his head on my shoulder as he continues to complain about it being unfair. 

I don’t say anything, knowing that if I do we will end up having a fight, just like it happened when we were younger and he crashed into Formula 3 - he kept whining about the crash that had been his own fault and I called him out on it. We didn’t speak for three weeks. 

“There you are!” Lando’s voice cut through the silence of one of the cool down rooms of the paddock. 

He gave Mick an unimpressed look and a glare. 

“Hi, Lan.” I smile at him. 

Ever since our little encounter at the club right after the Monza Grand Prix things between us have been different. He certainly kept touching me every chance he got and I wasn’t going to complain about it when in reality I loved to be wrapped in his arms. 

“I need you for something.” He said, and I tilt my head confused as I was off the clock “It’s important. Please.” 

“Sure.” I nod as Mick lifts his head from my shoulder and away from me “Take care, Mick.” 

The Shumacher boy looks at me with a slight pout of being deprived of comfort after his DNF, but didn’t say anything as Lando grabbed my hand and got me out of the cooldown room. 

We walked in silence for a moment before we entered the paddock’ parking garage. Lando opened the back door of the van and helped me up inside before sitting beside me and taping the driver on the shoulder to signal we’re ready to go. 

“So… burritos?” He asked. 

“What?” I blink at him 

“Do you want burritos for dinner? And some tacos? And nachos?” 

“I… you…” I’m at a loss of words for a moment as I catch up to what he’s done “You called me here to help you because you want dinner?” 

Lando nods, a sly smile on his face as he shifts his body on the back seat to take a better look at me. 

“Yes, I’m hungry. That’s why I need your help, to have dinner with me.” 

I can’t help but laugh at his audacity and then a memory comes up to my brain. Back in Spain, at the beginning of the season when I asked Carlos about Lando acting weird and Isa told me he was jealous. Jealous of Mick. 

“Why don’t you like Mick?” I ask, catching him off guard. 

Lando is momentarily stunned before he shakes his head. 

“I do not not like him.” 

“Yes, you do.” I say, a slight frown on my forehead “Whenever I’m with him you’re either glaring, snappy or you find excuses to drag me away.” 

He avoids my eyes for a moment, looking at the rooftop of the car before finally looking at me again. 

“It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s just that…” he trails off and is quiet again for a moment before he grumbles “He hogs all your attention.” 

“Oh God, he’s my childhood friend and I don’t even spend that much of a time with him.” 

“Do you like him?” He asks me. 

I look at him stunned “What?” 

Lando rolls his eyes “Do you like Shumacher? Like, do you have a crush on him or something?” 

“No. He’s my childhood friend.” I repeat my words from earlier. “Why?”

He shrugs and won’t look at me. 

I huff “Don’t do this, Lando.” 

He looks at me from the corner of his eyes “Don’t do what?” 

“You know very well what I’m talking about.” I cross my arms over my chest. 

He doesn’t say anything and neither do I. We both look at the opposite windows of the car, watching as Mexico City passes by in a blur. 

Doha, Qatar, 2021 

Lando and I weren’t talking. Well, mostly he wasn’t talking to me after Mexico. During the Brazilian Grand Prix and his 22nd birthday, I snuck into his hotel room and left this gift there. 

It was a small golden bracelet, it had his full name and race number on it. I left a sweet message alongside it, hoping he would get the hint of what I meant. I guess he did get the hint and didn’t like it because I woke up after the Brazilian Grand Prix to see Instagram and Twitter flooded with pictures of him making out with some girl at a club in São Paulo. 

And now I was the one not talking to him because he has been texting me and calling me non stop on the two week break in between races. 

I asked Sophie to take care of this scandal of him as I had never dealt something like that before and didn’t know where to start, so I just stayed on the sidelines watching her do her job and learning - in all honesty I just didn’t want to have to deal with him after seeing him kiss some random girl. 

I was heartbroken and I didn’t want to let anyone know about it because if Kimi or Seb caught wind of this… I might be sad, but I’d like to keep Lando alive. 

“Stop looking so sad…” Daniel pokes my arm “Those big sad eyes of yours… I can’t handle it.” 

We were sitting together as we were waiting for the press conference to begin. 

“I’m not sad.” I lied, “I’m just tired.” 

“C’mon!” He all but whines “We’ve been working together for almost a year now, I know you’re lying.” 

I don’t say anything so Daniel keeps talking “He’s sad too, you know.” 

I give him a side eyed glance as I mumble “I don’t know who is this he you’re referring to.” 

He sighs exasperated. 

“You should talk to him.” He says after a few minutes of silence “Lando misses you.” 

“No. I got his message loud and clear.” I shake my head, feeling the stupid tears gather in my eyes once again “I don’t need him to say it to my face. From now on we’re just… work colleagues.” 

“But you’re not just work colleagues, you’re way more than that and you know it. Also, you both are dumb asses who got this all wrong.” 

I turn to look at Daniel, the stubborn tears ready to spill out onto my cheeks. 

“How did I get it wrong, Daniel? I wrote him a note basically saying he’s the best thing that has ever happened in my life and that he meant so much more to me than just a friendship that blossomed because of work.” I say wobbly as I refused to let the tears roll down from my eyes “And he went out and kissed someone else. Things have never been more clear to me. I was just a fool and stupid.” 

Daniel says my name softly, but I shake my head. 

“The press conference is about to start, get in the room. I’ll be waiting for you here.” 

The Australian man sighs before nodding and following my instructions. He gives me one more look over the shoulder and I hate how he seems to pity me right now. 

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2021 

I didn’t go to the anual Abu Dhabi McLaren end of season party. Instead I went out to dinner with the Raikkonen family. 

Tonight has been Kimi’s last race of his Formula 1 career and I wanted to be there with him for his last night. I’ve known him my whole life, I was the flower girl at his wedding and I had been the first baby in his life. Right now being with family seems better. I need this. 

I decided not to be secretive about my motives of not being at the McLaren party as I posted a picture hugging Kimi on Instagram. 

Old man retired. Now that you’re out of f1 I can finally say it: you’ve always been my favorite. Love you Setä Kimi 🥺💙

After dinner, Sebastian drove me back to the hotel. He had been quiet most of the night and I can tell he is sad. All of his friends have retired, now it’s just him, Lewis and Fernando who have decided to come back. 

Once we’re out of the car and entering the elevator I turn to him. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to leave as well.” I whisper. 

He chuckles softly “I can’t say I’m not considering it. I’m getting old.” 

“No, you’re not old.” I shake my head. “You’re not even forty yet!” 

“But I’m not at my prime anymore. I only got one podium this year.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” I argued back. “You switched teams, you’re still getting used to the car! You can’t leave!” 

Suddenly it was like it had all hit me at once, the changes of it all. Kimi was leaving, he isn’t coming back next year. I’m not talking to Lando, who has been by my side since I started this job. And now Seb wants to leave as well. 

“Hey, prinzessin, no, please don’t cry.” 

I didn’t even notice the tears falling down my face as Sebastian hugged me tight. He caressed my hair in a soothing manner, like he used to do when I was a child. 

We were standing in the middle of the hallway of the hotel. He rocked me gently in his arms, shushing me. 

When I finally calmed down, Sebastian spoke again, his voice gentle. 

“You need to talk to Lando.” 

Before I could protest he continued to talk. “I know you’re not only crying because Kimi is leaving and I’m considering retirement. You need to talk to help, fix things between you two before it’s too late.” 

“There’s nothing to fix…” I whisper sadly “He… I… I really like him, Seb. But he doesn’t feel the same way.” 

“You’re kidding right?” He chuckled amused “That boy is head over heels for you.” 

I open my mouth, but once again he cuts me off “I know what he did. He told me.” 

“He… told you?” I question with a frown “And you’re still telling me to go talk to him?” 

Sebastian nodded “Yes. He was desperate, he misses you so much and doesn’t know what to do anymore to get you to talk to him. He’s… hopeless, but he likes you too.” 

When Sebastian left me in my hotel room, tucked into bed warm and safe with a kiss on the forehead, I kept replaying his words in my mind. 

Lando likes me. That sounds weird. But I also know Sebastian would never ever lie to me about something like that. 

I text Daniel asking him if Lando has already left the party. Daniel answers me with a yes in big bold letters and lots of exclamation marks. 

I pace back and forth in my hotel room before slipping on my shoes. I open the mini fridge and get to mini liquor bottles. I dart out of my room and soon enough I’m standing in front of Lando’s room. 

I take a deep breath before I knock on the door. 

There are a few moments of silence, I can hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears. I hear the lock turn and soon enough Lando is standing in front of me. His green eyes are rimmed red and he looks like he has been crying. 

He whispers my name, a slight tone of disbelief. 

“We didn’t toast to another year of Norris and Button traveling the world together.” I say. 

We stare at each other before he smiles and ushers me inside. 

[pickingupmymercedes]

Not now, not ever - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

summary: Having her pressed to him brought back how important she's been to keep him grounded.

warnings: Angst, Mercedes 2024, Monza 21'.

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Hello everyone, I felt like angsty was in order. Sorry to bring that accident 😶, but yeah, hope you guys enjoy it!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Defeated and exhausted, that was Lewis scotched in his airplane seat with you tangled in his arms, asleep beside him. The flight back to the UK after a disastrous Japanese Grand Prix held all the weight of the race, the frustration of the poor performance, and the uncertainty of his future with Mercedes weighing heavily on him.

Gently cradling you in his arms, Lewis pressed his face into your hair, breathing in your scent, finding solace in the familiarity and warmth of your presence. His fingers lightly traced the contours of your back, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest. Holding you like this; he felt a fleeting moment of peace amidst the storm of emotions and uncertainties that surrounded him. He whispered softly, barely audible above the hum of the airplane engine, " Thank you for always being there for me, even when I'm at my lowest”

He held you close, drawing comfort from your presence, knowing that whatever happened, you had been through much worse and had always stood strong together. As he looked down to your sleeping figure, the scene brought back a nagging memory on repeat, a night back in 2021, when you had comforted him after a nightmare. Now, as much as back then, you were his anchor, his safe haven amidst the chaos and uncertainty.

You were jolted awake when his entire body lurched, causing him to drop you abruptly onto the mattress. His breathing was rapid, coming out in sharp puffs as he hid his face in his hands, his shoulders tense under your arms as you held him from behind. You waited patiently, holding him until his breathing began to even out. Eventually, he turned to you, fear evident in his eyes. Without a word, you pulled him into your embrace, running your fingers through his braids and soothing the tension in his arms.

You had never seen that happen to him – that nightmarish episode that left a haunting impression. It had been two days from the crash with Verstappen in Monza. You'd traveled with him to NYC under the pretense of having an important. No one knew about the two of you yet. A few stolen moments here and there, and nights tangled in each other were all you had. He returned to his penthouse almost at dawn after the Met Gala, quietly ushering you from the bedroom you were occupying to his own bed. His friends, drunk from the after party, were oblivious to the fact that your supposed meeting was just a cover-up. The real reason you were there was that you couldn't bear to be apart from him after that crash.

Hours seemed to pass without either of you uttering a single word. The mere press of each other’s bodies was enough to ground you both. By the time Daniel knocked on the door to let him know they were headed out and assumed you hadn’t spent the night, it was well past noon. Little did he know, you had been there the whole time and would continue to be there for the rest of the day.

Lewis had witnessed similar episodes with you, most often triggered by situations related to Ayrton. Sometimes it manifested as restlessness, with you tossing and turning in bed. But on other occasions, it was far more severe. You'd wake up cold, tears streaming down your face, a scream caught in your throat, and a deafening ringing in your ears.

When these episodes occurred, Lewis knew exactly what to do. He would hold you tightly, his fingers lightly tracing your skin and scalp, while he repeated reassuring words over and over. And when you finally became aware of your surroundings, he'd listen attentively as you spoke about whatever had triggered the nightmare, comforting you until you fell back asleep in his arms.

As the sun began to set, casting a hauntingly beautiful golden hue through the penthouse windows, you went to find some food, Lewis hot on your feet, taking any opportunity to find himself wrapped in your arms. His arms securely around you, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back as you leaned into him even while you waited for the stove to warm up the takeout from the previous night. The events of the day had left both of you emotionally drained, the scars of the past resurfacing with a vengeance.

The weight of the nightmare and fear of the unknown had taken its toll on both of you. The emotional strain was palpable, the shadows of past traumas lingering in the corners of your minds, waiting to strike when least expected. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine concern. "I'm always here for you, no matter what."

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude, love, and pain. "And I'm here for you" his voice softly reassuring you “Always."

Lewis smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He pulled you closer to him, cherishing the moment of fragile peace and understanding between you. The bond you shared was unique, built on trust, understanding, and unconditional love. Despite the challenges and nightmares that sometimes haunted your nights, the love and support you provided each other were unwavering.

As night fell, Lewis led you back to the bedroom, ensuring you were comfortable and safe before joining you in bed. He held you close, his presence a constant source of comfort and reassurance. You drifted off to sleep, protected and loved in the arms that secured you so tightly.

Lewis remained awake; his gaze fixed on your peaceful sleeping face. The haunting memories of the accident with Verstappen in Monza played in his mind, and a shiver ran down his spine as he thought about how close it had come to being his end.

His thoughts were consumed by the accident, the fear of losing you, and the nightmares that had been haunting both of you. The emotional strain was palpable, and tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to watch you sleep, his mind tormented by the events of the past and the shadows of the traumas you both had endured.

The room was silent except for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing. Lewis leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, his heart aching with love and fear. He whispered words of love and reassurance, hoping that somehow, you could feel his presence and know that he would always be there for you.

He tightened his grip around you, pulling you closer as if trying to protect you from the world and the nightmares. His mind was filled with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future pressing down on him.

"We almost lost it all," he whispered to himself, his voice choked with emotion. "Gosh, I can't lose you, not now, not ever."

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour

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[patchiko]

HIII

if you're taking requests, could you write about reader trying to get off on those long pillows (a bolster) and jason/dick comes and helps out? tysmm (no pressure)

i would love to write for Dick but i need to read his comics. Luckily i have Nightwing 2021, just needa read it. so maybe expect dick content soon lol (maybe if im autistic enough for him idk though.)

Comic!Jason Todd x GN!Reader NSFW (ANON RQ)

thigh riding to dick riding (unprotected, hair pulling ((both ways)) praise, cum !! ermmm yeah.)

nicknames jason uses: hun, love, doll, doll-face, honey, sweetheart, darling, baby (JASON ‘GIVING PRAISE GETS ME HORNY’ TODD) (THAT GOES BOTH WAYS)

THE thin fabric of the pillow wasn’t enough. You’d gotten nowhere close to a fuckin’ orgasm, hole felt so god-damn empty, it left you a panting frustrated mess, head tilted back, sweat pooling at your poplit.

(THE BACK OF UR KNEE CALMMM DOOWWNN)

You jumped at the sound of the window promptly sliding open. Damn it. The whole reason you were using this thing, you wanted to get off before Jason came back. One, you needed to walk tomorrow, two, you didn’t wanna keep him up. Of course he could stay up for weeks on end, but that doesn’t mean he has to.

He slipped through the window and almost didn’t notice you. Jason reached down to start taking off his boots then his head shot up to look at you. Skin polished with sweat, heaving breaths, puffy eye bags, that pillow. Oh, he’ll throw that damn thing out if this is what it did to you.

“Darling?” He asked lowly.

You mumbled a string of words that loosely formed few sentences of how you didn’t wanna bother him, how you just wanted to get off— and oh, welcome back!

You know, he could’ve sworn he heard something about needing to walk but he’s not totally sure or anything so…

“Bother me?—“ He began stepping toward you while taking off his helmet. “— and have I done something to inflict you with such a ghastly thought?” he playfully tantalized you. But you could only whimper out a response. Jason cupped your face in his palms, he looked at your drowsy doe eyes and glossy lips, he pressed his mouth on yours tenderly. The little noise you let out made intoxicated him. Jason placed his hands on your hips and started pulling you off that damn pillow and closer to the side of the bed. He pressed sloppy open mouth kisses down to your neck, soft moans leaving his lips with each one.

He could’ve sworn he heard you say you needed to walk tomorrow in between puffy gasps, but, he wasn’t exactly sure. Jason pulls you up against his body while kissing you, his hand snaking to your back, tugging at your shirt. You pull the shirt off and Jason sits back onto the bed, only his legs touching the floor.

He guides you on-top of him while he hushes promises and dapples kisses over every part of your skin he wants ,

‘I’ll take care of you hun.’

‘You’ll neva’ need that thing again love.’

He pressed his thigh against your hole, you quickly started rocking yourself against him, ’ uh-huh, back n’ forth doll.’ His firm thigh muscle and the texture of this combat pants gave you everything that fucking pillow didn’t. Jason was barely jerking his leg up and down, but those little movements were knocking you over your edge. ‘Just like that? Yeah I know..’ Jason touched himself through his pants at the same pace as you fucked yourself on his thigh, precum eventually leaving its mark on the cloth. Every motion of your hips made your head tilt back a little further; mewling while grabbing at Jasons hair. Jason praising you throughout it, both hands following your thighs, ‘Thats it love, better then that—“ you pulled at his hair.” “ah— fuckin’ pillow huh?’ The vendetta he had against that pillow was crazy. Your grinding became more sharp, every jolt of his hips had your jaw dropping. Your hips trembled, back arching, sputtering out moans and gasps as you melted on his thighs. Jason kept rutting his hips for a few moments until you came down from your pleasure high. He took your fingertips and kissed them, then led your hand down to the wet spot on his thigh. ‘Made a pretty little mess out of yourself all f’me?”

He squeezed your face in his palms, holding your head still and watching you pant. He skimmed his bottom lip on yours, teasing you, seeing if you’ll bite. You did, hotly pressing your lips on his. Sucking on his bottom lip, biting at it. When you pulled off Jason slipped his tounge into your mouth. He barely got to huff out his sentence, being cut out by his own impulsive kisses,’Need—mmh—more doll?’

You pleaded for him, whining in his ear about how you needed him. He noted that you didn’t say you needed to walk tomorrow so. He pulled your hips up for a moment so he could unbuckle his pants and pulled down his boxers, his cock popping out of his pants. The cold steel of his belt skimmed at the back of your plush skin. He reached over to your nightstand grabbing the lube and quickly pumping his cock, even if for just a few moments the sound was obscene. He pushed two fingers into your hole, ‘Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good..’ he panted as he lubed your core, stretching you out as much as he can with his calloused hands. Jason popped his fingers back out and guided your hips onto him, slowly pushing into you. You couldn’t even be gritty about the slow stretch of his dick, he knew every part of him felt fucking good and of course he was gonna use it. Once you were fully on, he grabbed your plush hips, choked out sobs leaving your mouth while Jason talked filth as he started grinding his cock into your wet hole. He grabbed your hair and directed your head to look at him ‘Thas’ it, let me see how good im doin baby.’

Once Jason was sure you were all stretched from the fucked out eyes you were giving him and the way he effortlessly pushed through you, he trailed your hips up and down his dick. You started moaning for him to go faster, oh who would he be to deny you? Jason started pumping his cock into you while purring how ‘he’s got you,’ and to ’let him handle it will you?’ and fuck he did. Rhythmically pounding all those spots that he had memorized while sucking hickies into your neck, he had you seeing stars. The metal of his belt chiming with every motion of you two, coldness slapping against your soft skin. Your body melting against his while he thrust into you, hips jolting as he started grabbing at your ass. Cries leaving your lips with every feverish bounce of his cock. You shuddered as your walls spasmed all over him, letting your body go limp as you spilled on his dick. He continued fucking you through orgasms until the only thing you could feel in between your thighs was his pulsating cock and the wet mixture of sweat and cum.

His grip on your waist tightened, sure to leave little crescents of his nail marks. Louder grunts and curses choked out of his mouth as he rutted into you. ‘M’ making you feel good right? Better then that pillow right?’ You took notice on how his voice was getting more whiny. He wrapped his arm around your waist as he buried his face into your neck . ‘Jason let me see you’ you whimpered out. He didn’t move, still focused on that feeling of his cock as you pulsed around him and the slick noises of your twos bodies. You took your hand and harshly pulled at his black locs so he’d look at you. He let out a pornish moan when you rocked his head backwards, eyelashes fluttering as he frantically bucked his hips up while cumming. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, grip tightening with every pulse of pleasure that rolled down his spine. He looked up at you, cursing weakly as he stared at you with tired pleasure filled eyes. Breathless gasps leaving both of your mouth as he comes down from his high, he slowly grinds his hips into you while you both fall limply into each others necks. He rubs circles into your skin, only having the energy to murmur ‘I love you’s’ while weakly pressing kisses onto you.

fuck that pillow (jason thinks about humping it)

this was fun to write it just took me way to fucking long, i had like four ideas for this shit man.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part five

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) the next chapter i spent literally so much time on and i can't wait to share it!!!!

m.list

—

Running. Rafe had always been inherently good at running. It was noticed for the first time in middle school by the track and field coach when he outran a bully. The talent was nurtured and he went on to be a track star in high school and college. It was a good skill for a surgeon to have in the midst of an emergency, the ability to run with dexterity and endurance and speed. At least that’s what Molly had convinced him of so she could ogle at his muscular thighs and chest at every track meet. God, did he miss her. The one thing he never thought he would have to run to is his girl, his wife, his molly, as she was wheeled into the emergency room. The words of the surgeon on her case played over and over in Rafe’s head – no matter where he was or what he was doing – the flashback of that night, of those words in that setting – about his wife – it was all too much, no matter how long she had been gone. 

“Rafe, I’m so sorry. We did everything we could.” 

Dr. Charles Richardson looked his colleague, his friend, in the eye with a somber gaze. It felt to Rafe like the look of someone after they had spent an entire afternoon reading Edgar Allen Poe. The look in Charles’ eye made him angry. It wasn’t because of the circumstances, it was because he knew what the look meant – it meant his wife was gone. It meant Charles was looking at him the way he looks at a patient’s family and Rafe, while he was her family, he knew the speech, he knew the words, he knew this world. He knew it was all bullshit.

“Don’t bullshit me, Charles. If my wife is dead, tell me she’s dead.”  

He growled. 

“I’m sorry, Rafe.” 

“You keep saying you’re sorry – say the fucking words. I need to hear you say the words. Not ‘I did everything I could’, not ‘I'm so sorry.’ You say the fucking words you coward.” 

“She’s gone, buddy. She’s gone.” 

—

Rafe was jolted out of his thoughts, out of the memory he had been encapsulated in for the last two years as you stirred awake. He sat there watching you, the steady rise and fall of your chest doing little to comfort him, though he knew it meant you were alive. His eyes moved from your sweet face to your leg that he had previously operated on, a black hinged brace lined it where it sat elevated against three pillows in an attempt to keep the swelling minimal. You looked so fragile, yet incredibly ethereal and soft and he couldn’t help but stare. It was impossible not to stare at something, someone that beautiful. To grow up that beautiful — he wondered what that was like as he sat there ogling at you. He pondered if he should let himself go there with you, if he could let himself feel the rush and the high of serotonin and dopamine that he clinically knew would be released if he was to allow himself to love again. Was he selfish for wanting to be happy? Was he chaos on two feet? Was he damnation on earth the way that he had convinced himself he was? What would become of you, if you were to love him? Would you wind up just like her? 

He forced his overactive brain to stop spinning once he noticed your eyes were open and he brushed his fingers against your forehead. 

“Hey, sweet girl. Welcome back.” 

He cooed, his fingers running up and down the bridge of your nose and across your eyebrows in the shape of a “T”. 

“Hi.” 

You croaked out, throat dry and begging for a source of water. Rafe obliged, rising to his feet as his brain recognized your desperation, hearing the desert within your windpipe and bringing the water up to your lips with a straw. 

“Suck slowly, okay?” 

He instructed, running his fingers through your hair slowly and you followed his directions. 

“How’s the pain?” 

He questioned with a softness that you were convinced was less about him being a good doctor and more about him just being who he was – just being a good person. 

“Like a five maybe. You’re still here?” 

You lied, not wanting to see the life leave his blue eyes when you told him otherwise. 

“That’s good. Yeah, I just wanted to sit with you for a while. Is that okay?” 

He smiled softly, questioning you.

“Of course it is. Can I go back to sleep? I mean, will you be here when I wake up if I do?” 

You questioned, a curiosity looming in your features, unsure why you would’ve stayed up if it meant more time with him.

“Absolutely, sweet girl. I’ll always be here.” 

He smiled, sitting next to you, rubbing soothing circles into the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep. You weren’t sure what it was, but you knew that he was telling the truth, that somehow he’d always be around.

—

You looked up at Rafe as he moved around you, fluffing the pillows behind your head, you sat at an incline in the bed again, trying desperately to reach the tv remote that sat on the table beside you. He had been talking – asking you questions about your day, as if you had done anything except lay here, again. But, all you could think about is the fact that your favorite movie was coming on tv in less than thirty minutes and it was a simple pleasure you were going to indulge yourself in. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing them against your eyelashes with the force of a thousand suns. Rafe must’ve noticed the pained expression on your face because before you could even ride out the wave of discomfort, he had the remote in his hands and he was kneeling in front of you, squatting on the balls of his feet.

“Hey, sweet girl, can you look at me?” 

He asked kindly and when the torment had subsided enough you blinked your eyes open, his piercing blue ones staring back into yours. 

“What is it, from 1-10? and don’t bullshit me this time.” 

His voice was soft but stern and you knew he meant business. 

“It’s a nine.” 

You said, grunting exasperatedly, frustrated and tired and sick – of – this. 

“Shit – sweetheart you can’t let it get that bad before you tell me and why are you putting yourself in more pain by reaching for this? You could’ve asked me, I’m right here.” 

He blurted out his questions in a brash way, waving the remote control in the air.

“My favorite movie is coming on, I just –, sorry, I’m just –” 

A whimper escaped your lips as you stuttered and Rafe moved toward you again, bringing your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up towards him as he took in the tears that lined your eyes. His heart broke at the sight. 

“Hey – I know, sweetheart. You don’t have to be sorry, I know you’re frustrated.” 

“How do you know how I feel?” 

You questioned him with a hint of attitude. In your mind, it didn’t matter how many people he had operated on with your same injuries, he hadn’t lived it and because of that fact, he didn’t understand. 

“Let me guess, you’re frustrated, annoyed, tired, sad and really wanting a shower?” 

He asked you with a light chuckle, smiling the Rafe Cameron smile as you looked up at him with bewildered eyes. 

“How could you possibly know any of that?” 

You questioned him, confused. Did he go through this, physically? Did this sweet, sweet man hurt the same way that you had?

“Because I’ve been where you are.” 

He stated very matter-of-factly and you were confused.

“You cracked your bones in a million places, too?” 

Had he been through this, too?

“No, but I’ve been in a situation that was eerily similar.” 

You were silent at his declaration, wondering what situation he was referring to. 

“I can’t do much for you about a shower, it’s only been three days since your surgery and with you in this much pain, I don’t want you up and moving. But I can have Jenni give you a sponge bath. Would you be up for that?” 

“Yes, please. That would – be amazing.” 

He nodded and gave you the Rafe Cameron smile again, leaning in and placing a kiss on your forehead. Jenni and another nurse stepped into the room with everything they needed, setting up a bucket of water, some hypoallergenic soap and a sponge on the rolling table that each hospital room came with. Once they had everything set up, Rafe stepped out, being the gentleman he was, he wanted you to have privacy and he definitely didn’t want the first time he saw you naked to be in a hospital bed. 

“He’s quite dreamy, isn’t he?” 

A nurse that stood beside Jenni spoke into the air and your breath faltered. Were you that obvious? If this blonde bimbo picked up it – he probably did too. How fucking embarassing. Rafe had left the room only moments ago with a promise to come check on you shortly, but you so desperately wished he would save you from this woman as she stood in front of you preparing to strip you bare and see the most intimate parts of you, though it felt like she already had. 

“He’s very nice to me.” 

You stated, nodding with a soft smile though your tone was a bit curt. Jenni’s pager went off, signaling another emergency in the hall. 

“Shit – I'll be right back.” 

She muttered, running out of the room in a hurried fashion. The other nurse, who’s name you couldn’t bring yourself to remember, looked at the door as Jenni exited through the threshold – you were sure your recollection, or lack thereof, had more to do with the meds and less to do with her and the shitty vibe she gave off. She worked diligently, pulling down the hospital gown, noting the stitches that lined your chest as she drug the sponge gently over your soft skin. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll get you better and forget you ever existed. He won’t give any of us nurses the time of day. Don’t get your hopes up. Besides – look at you.” 

She replied, rolling her eyes as the words left her mouth. ‘What a bitter bitch’, you thought. You bit your tongue for only a moment before deciding to fully send it – there was nothing she could do to you – you were already bedridden, recovering from surgery and would be for the next few months – there was nothing she could do to you. 

“You know, maybe Rafe hasn’t given you the time of day because your personality fucking sucks, just a thought.” 

You spoke nonchalantly and before she could respond, she laid down the sponge she was using to bathe you with on top of your chest, took off her gloves and dug her long, manicured finger into the incision site Rafe had just stitched up on your hip. Your yelp was so loud Rafe heard it from the hallway, where he stood at the nurse’s station, finishing off your surgical notes. Suddenly, the hammering in his chest overtook him and he rushed into your room to see if you were experiencing post-operative pain or if something else was wrong. What he never expected to see was a nurse, finger deep into a surgical incision and you – your sweet face with tears cascading down it as your eyes pleaded for him. 

“What the fuck are you doing to her?!” 

He growled, rushing to your side, pushing her to the side and grabbing gauze off the table next to your bed, immediately holding it to your hip to stop the bleeding. 

“I know, baby – I know it hurts. I’m sorry, I’m gonna fix it, okay?” 

He pulled the gauze away from your hip and Jenni rushed into the room, taking in the sight of your stitches that were fresh and clean and showing signs of healing only minutes ago and were now torn and bloody and frayed like the pages of an old book. 

“What the fuck happened, Rafe?” 

Jenni all but squealed, rummaging through drawers searching for more gauze and a suture kit. 

“F-f-fingers –” 

You choked out, crocodile tears rolling down your bright pink cheeks as your fists clenched the sheets beside you. 

“Sweet girl, we’re gonna fix it, okay?” 

“No, R-rafe!” 

“What do you mean, no, sweetheart? Talk to me.” 

“Can’t do it anymore, can’t keep getting fixed. I’m not a stuffed animal that you can just keep sewing back up until all the stuffing has fallen out.” 

He cooed, brushing the hair away from your forehead. 

“I know, baby – I know you’re tired. But, if we don’t fix it you’ll get an infection and you’ll get sick okay? We have to fix it, sweet girl.” 

You reluctantly nodded, letting him work, continuing to wail as each stitch was placed into your hip again, the skin irritated and sore and only adding to the discomfort that raked through your entire body. It was almost like Rafe knew when your breaths picked up and the weight of your new reality had fallen on your chest because he started asking questions – questions that you hadn’t answered – questions that no one had bothered to ask you in years. 

“So, what did you do before – I mean, I can only assume you don’t frequent hospitals very often? Unless you’re one of those crazy people. Are you one of those crazy people?” 

You threw your hand up to your mouth and let out a giggle. 

“You’re cute when you ramble, Rafe.” 

His lips turned up into a smirk. Your pain filled haze had you simply not caring about flirting with the man in front of you.

“Oh, so you think I’m cute?” 

He questioned, eyebrows furrowed, laughing as he checked the fluids that hung behind your bed. Your face was red, realizing what you had previously said to him once his words had reached your ears. You wished the bed you laid in would swallow you whole, scared to look this beautiful man in the eye and face rejection. There’s no way the feeling is reciprocated. 

“I mean, yeah. You’re an attractive guy, you’ve gotta know that.”

You stuttered out awkwardly and he simply giggled at the way you were shrinking into yourself, embarrassed at the compliment you had given him.

“Sweetheart, don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay, I’m flattered.” 

He smiled – the Rafe Cameron smile – rubbing circles into your hand as you took in the words that left his lips. 

He’s flattered. That’s what you say when you’re trying to let someone down easily. He doesn’t reciprocate and how could he? Just look at you. 

The assault on your heart at the mercy of your brain was interrupted quickly by Rafe’s voice again. 

“So, what did you do before? For work, I mean. You never answered my question.” 

“Okay, nosey. I’m – well – I was a high school English teacher.” 

You replied, with a sad smile. 

“What made you want to teach?” 

He asked, interested in everything that involved you.

“My younger sister, Ella has special needs and she wasn’t always treated fairly in the classroom; so I just wanted to make sure no child ever experienced that again.” 

“You know what that tells me?” 

He asked, a sly smile dancing across his face.

“What?” 

You wondered out loud.

“It tells me that you’re sweet and a good person and that you could’ve never deserved for this to happen.” 

“Thank you, Rafe –” 

He looked at you as tears fell down your face.

“Sweetheart, what can I do?” 

You didn’t answer him and your breaths only seem to quicken by the second and before Rafe could even think, he had kicked off his shoes and climbed in the bed with you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, one hand draping across your waist and one around the back of your head, pooling your hair in his hands. 

“Shh. It’s okay, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

He cooed. 

“I-I’m never gonna b-be the same am I? I-I’ll n-never b-be able to teach again.” 

You whimpered, crying into his chest. 

“Hey, sweet girl, don’t say that. I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure you teach again, okay? I won’t let anyone take that away from you, ever.” 

His voice was soft and tender, afraid the wrong octave might rip you in half and you’d cease to exist right then and there. 

“Do you understand? I won’t let that happen.” 

This time he spoke with more force and you nodded your head reluctantly, unsure if you really believed him or not. 

“Tell me something to make me forget, Rafe – What made you want to become a doctor?” 

You questioned and he was uncomfortable, but the pleading look in your eyes made him answer anyway.

“It’s not a story full of glory, sweetheart. How about I tell you a better one, huh? How’s that sound?” 

He questioned, his hands working against your scalp like his life depended on it. 

“That sounds good.” 

You replied, somberly, wondering what kind of hurt this beautiful, sweet human being had experienced to make him so closed off about his own life. 

“Well – once upon a time, there was this doctor and he was a real asshole until this pretty girl walked into the hospital he worked at.” 

“What did she look like?” 

You questioned with curiosity-stricken features. He smiled at you, how he was the only one who got to see you like this. He couldn’t help but feel honored. 

“I think she looked a lot like you, sweetheart.” 

Your breath is caught in your throat at the fact that those words were coming from him. His hand motions continue against your scalp as you listen to his words, the euphoria that’s felt from the action is something you aren’t sure you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

“I’m glad I found you, Rafe.” 

You mutter sleepily, listening to him continue the details of the stranger's beauty, who in his words, looked similar to you, before you promptly fell asleep.

“And I’m glad I found you, angel.” 

He whispers, continuing to rub soothing circles into your hair, letting you cuddle deeper into him and for the first time Rafe had felt warmth in someone that wasn’t Molly. He had felt warmth and goodness and it wasn’t from her and it simply scared him half to death. 

—

taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog @urdreamgirl12 @hockeybabe87 @sereneera @annaconscience @pogueprincesa @bibissparkles @obxbigsis

[dawnoftime22]

wait for you.

| N.R

Warnings: none!

Summary: While Nat was busy doing her work late in the night, you sat sleepily in her lap.

Word Count: 426

Category: pure fluff

| Started on 04/12/2021, 9:12 AM |

| Finished on 05/12/2021, 1:21 PM |

Masterlist

“If there shall be a day where I must go to sleep without you, then I'd rather not rest.”

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Your head was in the crook of her neck, and your tired eyes started to slowly droop, but you tried to stay up longer.

Natasha, on the other hand, was working on something on her laptop, her hand going around your body to reach the keyboard and touchpad. It's past midnight by now, and the two of you have been in bed for a few hours.

She didn’t mind having you there in her lap, since she knows how much you don’t sleep well when she isn't around.

But you tried to reject the sleep either way, still wanting to wait for her to finish.

The sound of the keyboard clacking was probably the only thing you were able to focus on because of your tiredness.

Natasha noticed that you weren’t asleep yet, and felt your head slightly dropping then going back up every now and then.

She didn’t want to jolt you fully awake by speaking, so instead she spoke quietly.

“Любов (love), why aren’t you sleeping?” Her hand trailed away from the laptop, placing it on the side of your arm instead and drawing small circles with her finger.

Your only response was a small, quiet whine, nuzzling further into her neck to hide.

The redhead sighs, and tries to gently push you so that your head was on her chest. It didn’t take long though, considering your energy was gone to the point that your body couldn’t even try to stiffen itself to defend from the movement.

That was when she saw how tired you looked with your half-lidded eyes.

She wished she could just betray this piece of work she had to have done by the early morning, but she was almost done. So, every now and then her head goes to kiss you on the forehead or cheeks, whispering soft reassurances.

Your body was desperately trying to fall asleep at this point, but your brain still didn’t let you.

Finally, Nat turned off her laptop and set it aside so that she could cuddle you back properly.

Her hands went around your waist, one going under your shirt to draw meaningless patterns on your skin.

Yours, though, was near her neck, playing around with her arrow necklace. You always loved to fidget around with it whenever you were cuddling with her because it helped to calm you.

“I’m right here. I won’t be going anywhere, детка (baby).” The redhead above you says as you sleepily look back at her.

She smiled, taking in how adorable you were in your sleepy state.

“Promise?” you whisper, but you were so close she could hear you.

“Promise.”

“Now go to sleep.”

---------------------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@notevenanna

[purplephantomwolf]

Savoring the Finish Line

Chapter Three

Synopsis: You are a bakery owner. One day Max Verstappen comes into your bakery.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings: Panic attack mention

Previous Chapter: Chapter Two

Masterlist

I AM REWRITING THIS FROM AN OC STORY. IF I MISS ANYTHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I CAN FIX IT! THIS IS CHAPTER 3 OF 5 OF ALREADY WRITTEN CHAPTERS. THEY WILL ALL BE POSTED THIS WEEKEND.

December 19, 2021

     You slam your hand down onto your phone, turning the alarm off. You feel the bed jolt as your puppies jump onto it. You laugh as they nudge your face, trying to wake you up more. “I’m up, I’m up,” you mumble, sitting up. Your dogs jump off the bed and run to the stairs. You climb out of bed and get ready to take them outside. Crippling on the leashes, you let Elise and Lacey lead you outside. You wander around the block, the dogs sniffing the same things they do every day. They need to make sure nothing has changed in the past 24 hours. 

     The puppies take off upstairs once you arrive home. You follow them up the stairs, making sure they have enough food and water for the day. “Okay, girls. I need you to behave for me,” you say, giving both of them kisses on their heads. You reach the bottom of the stairs as Louis and Estelle walk through the front door. “Good morning, Estelle. Good morning, Louis,” you greet them. 

     “Good morning, Y/n. How did the rest of your night go?” Louis asks, heading for the office. 

     “Really interesting!” You laugh. Louis and Estelle stop to look at you, both of them raising their eyebrows. “I forgot to lock the door after you guys left, and I had a wonderful, but unexpected visitor,” you start to explain. 

     Louis interrupts you before you can tell them who the visitor was. “That’s dangerous! You can’t forget to lock the doors!” He scolds you.

     “I know, I know! But this was a good visitor! It was Max Verstappen!” You respond. Louis’ mouth drops open. Estelle looks between you two. 

     “Max Verstappen? Isn’t he that Formula 1 driver?” Estelle asks, looking confused. 

     “Yeah, he’s the one who won the world championship this year,” Louis turns to her. He turns back to you, looking skeptical, “Are you sure it was Max Verstappen? You weren’t in some fever dream?” You scoff, rolling your eyes. You put your hands on your hips. 

     “I’m sure. Considering he spent at least 30 minutes here, I don’t think I was hallucinating or having a fever dream,” you smile. “Now come on, we’re opening soon!” You wave your hands, shooing them into the office to put their stuff up. 

     “Too bad it wasn’t Charles,” Louis calls, as you are about to enter the kitchen. You and Louis have a playful rivalry going on as he’s an avid Charles fan. You laugh, shaking your head. You enter the kitchen, getting everything in the bakery ready for the day. 

     You hear the door’s bell ring right at 6 am, as you’re putting some croissants in the oven. “Y/n, there’s someone here who would like to see you,” you hear Louis call. Your eyebrows knit in confusion. You wipe your hands on your apron as you walk out of the kitchen. 

     “Oh, bonjour Max!” You greet him. You walk up to the counter, feeling both Estelle’s and Louis’ presence behind you. 

     “Bonjour, Y/n,” Max smiles at you, before looking at the menu. As he looks at it, you turn to Louis, mouthing I told you so. He just shrugs, before you turn back to Max. “What would you recommend? My trainer told me to pick something up for us after working,” Max asks, looking form the display to you. 

     You hum, thinking. “Well, I assume you’re going to want something light. I’d go with either some scones or croissants.” Max nods, looking at your options of scones and croissants.

     “Can I take two of your blueberry scones and two of your regular croissants?” He asks. 

     “Of course,” you say, grabbing a bag. As Louis rings up Max, you grab his pastries. “Have a good day, Max,” you smile. 

     “You too, Y/n,” he says, waving bye. You wave back as he leaves. You whirl around, looking at Louis.

     “I told you!” You laugh. Louis holds his hands up. 

     “Alright! Alright! I believe you now!” Louis laughs. You laugh as you walk back into the kitchen to continue baking. 

******************************************************************************

December 28, 2021

     You look up from placing some pastries on the display as the bell on the door rings. “Good afternoon, Max. Did you have a good Christmas?” You grin. 

     “I did! I spent it with my family back in the Netherlands. Did you have a good one?” Max smiles. You nod, finishing up the display. 

     “I did. I spent it with Louis and Estelle,” you say, “Now, what can I get you?” Max takes a look at the display and then the menu. 

     “I’ll try one of your cupcakes and a pain du chocolat,” he answers. 

     “Good choices. These cupcakes are my guilty pleasure,” you say, grabbing a cupcake and pain du chocolat. You place them in your to go box and ring up Max. 

     “Where are Estelle and Louis?” Max asks, looking around and taking the box from you. 

     “I give them the days off between Christmas and New Years. The bakery never gets so busy that I need to have them working at all, but I like the company. Plus they’re basically like my parents,” you shrug. Max walks to one of the bakery tables and sits down. 

     “Okay, tell them hi for me next time you see them,” Max says. He shifts in his seat a couple of times. He opens his mouth to say something else but then closes it. 

     “Everything okay, Max?” You ask, concerned. You sit down across from him, waiting to see if he’ll tell you. 

     “I wanted to thank you for helping me through the panic attack the other week. I’ve never had one before, so I didn’t know what to do,” Max explains. 

     “Max, you don’t have to thank me for helping you. I know how tough they are to go through alone. I wouldn’t want anyone to experience that,” you softly smile. 

     “Okay, but I still wanted to thank you, so I thought I’d give you this as a thank you,” he says, sliding you an envelope. You look at him confused, picking up the envelope. You open it and gasp. Inside is a paddock pass to the Red Bull garage. 

     “Max! I can’t take this! You didn’t have to get me anything as a thank you!” You exclaim, pushing it back towards him.

     “I wanted to,” he says, pushing it back to me. “It’s a pass to the REd Bull garage during the Bahrain Grand Prix. It should get you in on all three days.” You take the pass and inspect it. 

“Thank you, Max,” you say, looking up. He just smiles and takes a bite of his cupcake. The bell rings as someone enters. “Thank you again, Max.” You stand up and walk behind the counter. “Hello, welcome to Delicieux Gateries!” You greet the customer. As you take their order, Max waves bye. You wave back, before continuing with the customer. 

******************************************************************************

January 17, 2022

     “Welcome back, Max,” you grin, as he walks through the door. 

     “Thank you, Y/n. How is your day going?” Max asks, smiling. 

     “It’s been quite alright. Louis and Estelle left for vacation earlier today, so it’ll be just me for the next week. How has training been going?” You ask, taking up your place at the register. 

     “It’s been going good. We have a pre-season track session in Spain here in a month, so training has gotten tougher,” he explains, “I’ve tried your cupcakes, pain du chocolat, blueberry scones, and croissants. What would you recommend next?” 

     “Well, I just made fresh batches of both the choux a la creme and the kouign-amann,” you think aloud. 

     “I’ll try both of those then!” Max answers. You nod and get to work packing them up for him. As you pack them up, he asks about Bahrain. “So, do you have a hotel for Bahrain yet?” 

     “I do! I fly in on the Tuesday before the race and then leave on the following Monday. I wanted a few days to explore the city before the race,” you answer. You finish up with Max’s order as he nods. 

     “I fly in on the seventh because we have pre-season testing the weekend before. Hopefully I’ll get to see you before it all gets hectic for the race,” Max tells you. 

     “I hope so, too. If not, I’ll be cheering for you from your garage,” you grin. 

     “You’re right. Well, I’ll see you in Bahrain if I don’t come in before then. Have a good day, Y/n,” Max says, heading for the door. 

     “See you in Bahrain, Max. Have a good day,” you wave bye.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@freyathehuntress

[eveninggstar]

what is this feeling?' ⊹ ࣪ ˖

max verstappen x ferraridriver!reader

12.12.24

୨ৎ back one page ୨ৎ back two pages

part one, part two, ....

୨ৎ In the high-stakes world of Formula 1, Y/N, a rookie Ferrari driver, enters the paddock with the weight of legacy on her shoulders, replacing the legendary Sebastian Vettel. Armed with charm and determination, she quickly wins over fans and drivers alike. But not everyone is so easily impressed—least of all Max Verstappen, the controversial Red Bull prodigy whose dominance on the track is matched only by his polarizing personality.

*dear universe this is not me manifesting max retiring, if he wants to take a season or two off to be with his kid i fully understand that but i need him in f1 *

imagine that max is still as hated as he was during the 2021 season and still acts the way he did, and yes this is inspired by wicked

The paddock buzzed with life, reporters running wild like headless chickens in a desperate bid to extract every last detail before the Abu Dhabi GP drew to a close. Cameras clicked like clockwork, capturing fleeting moments, while engineers barked orders in preparation for the season's final race. Yet amidst the beauty and glamour, one name cast a shadow large enough to shroud even the brightest lights: Max Verstappen.

To many, Verstappen was the villain of Formula 1. Some called him "Mad Max," while others simply labelled him wicked. A driver who thrived on chaos and adrenaline, his daring overtakes and unapologetic demeanour had earned him countless trophies—and just as many critics. His success on the track seemed almost effortless, but his reputation came with a price, leaving what many described as "blood on the asphalt."

As the last cars crossed the finish line, a new kind of chaos erupted. The usual end-of-season celebrations were overshadowed by a statement that reverberated through the paddock like a shockwave. It wasn’t just about the podium or the champagne—it was about him.

Max Verstappen had announced his retirement.

The reporter standing before you barely registered as a person, her voice blending into the noise of the moment. You were only half-listening, waiting for the key phrases that would prompt your rehearsed responses. But this time, her words jolted you out of your trance.

"How are you feeling about Max’s retirement?"

“His what?” Your eyes widened, searching her face to confirm you hadn’t misheard. The news hit like a bombshell, one no one had seen coming. Max Verstappen—arguably the most dominant driver of his era—was walking away.

"Let us be glad and grateful that he’s taking time for himself," you replied with a smile that felt as stiff as the tension in the air.

The reactions to his departure were as polarizing as the man himself. Some celebrated as though tyranny had ended, gleefully tweeting about a "freer grid." Others expressed grudging respect for his legacy. But one sentiment echoed louder than any other: "No one will mourn him."

Another question came, cutting through the murmurs. "How would you describe your relationship with Verstappen?"

Your mind betrayed you, flashing through secret memories you’d carefully buried—moments shared with Max away from the cameras and the chaos. A fond smile softened your features before you could stop it.

“Well, it depends on what you mean. I knew him well.”

The sharp intakes of breath around you made you realize your mistake. Your eyes darted to the reporter’s raised eyebrows, and you scrambled to recover.

“That is, our paths crossed a few times,” you added hastily, forcing the smile back into something neutral.

The memory hit you like the roar of an engine at full throttle.

You were replacing Sebastian Vettel. The Sebastian Vettel. It was a surreal honour and an immense pressure, all rolled into one. As a wide-eyed rookie in the scarlet Ferrari suit, you stepped into a world dominated by egos as sharp as the turns at Suzuka. Despite the intimidating atmosphere, you had already gained a reputation in junior categories for your kind nature and willingness to lend a hand to those around you—traits that endeared you to fans and teammates alike.

But in the paddock, another name was whispered with equal parts awe and trepidation: Max Verstappen.

You had heard the stories before you ever saw him. He was the paddock prodigy—unstoppable, unrelenting, and, if the rumours were true, utterly unbearable. Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the reality of meeting Max Verstappen.

Your thoughts were momentarily elsewhere as your parents dropped you off, their excitement practically radiating. Who could blame them? You were about to make a name for yourself in F1.

“I love you both so much!” you said with a smile as they each kissed your cheek. “Remember, it’s not goodbye, it’s farewell.” You held their hands, knowing they couldn’t travel the world with you and trying not to let the bittersweet moment dampen your nerves.

“We love you,” your mother said, squeezing your father’s hand as he wiped away tears threatening to spill.

“You’ll write, won’t you?” he asked, his voice choked.

“I’ll text,” you promised, feeling a pang of second-hand embarrassment as you noticed some bystanders watching. “Alright, off you go. Love you both, but this is getting sad.” You began shooing them toward the car with exaggerated motions. “Miss you already!”

As the door closed and the car pulled away, you let out a small sigh, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “They’re going to miss me so much,” you said mostly to yourself.

“Not to ruin your moment, but my parents didn’t give me a send-off like that when I started.”

The voice startled you, and you turned to find an awkward-looking boy standing nearby. He seemed about your age, his British accent immediately catching your attention.

“I’m Lando!” he said with a cheesy grin, holding out his hand.

You blinked, feigning interest but not taking the offered handshake. “Nice to meet you,” you replied, though your tone made it clear the sentiment was forced.

“I know we don’t really know each other yet,” Lando continued, undeterred by your cool demeanour, “but—”

“You know what I believe, Bando?”

“It’s Lando—wait, did I just call myself Bando?” He paused, blinking in confusion as he realized his mistake.

“That strangers are just people I haven’t met,” you said smoothly, cutting him off before walking away with a quick “Bye.”

Lando stood there, staring after you in stunned silence. You didn’t look back, but if you had, you might’ve seen the hint of admiration in his gaze.

As you strolled through the paddock, clad in a Ferrari-branded top and a denim skirt, you could feel the public falling more and more in love with you. The cameras followed your every move, and you basked in the attention, your charm effortlessly captivating drivers, reporters, and fans alike.

While chatting with a fellow driver, you noticed the whispers around you growing louder. People were glancing over your shoulder, their curious expressions hinting at the presence of someone noteworthy. Though intrigued, you refused to let anything interrupt the conversation.

“Nice shirt.”

The voice came from behind, startling you enough to make you let out a small yelp as you spun around. Standing there was Max Verstappen, his outfit eerily similar to yours—jeans and a Red Bull-branded shirt. His smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, a clear sign he wasn’t here to make friends.

“It’s Ferrari,” you replied coolly, your voice steady. “Of course, it’s nice.”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that made you feel like the punchline to a joke you hadn’t heard. “Right. Tradition over innovation. Bold choice for someone who actually wants to win.”

You bristled, the jab hitting its mark. “Bold words for someone who’d rather push people off the track than pass them cleanly.”

His smirk faltered, just for a moment, before returning sharper than ever. “So, you’re a fan of the rulebook, huh? That explains why I’ve never seen you near the front.”

The remark stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Well, I prefer to race with integrity, not turn every Grand Prix into a demolition derby.”

The tension between you was palpable, crackling like static electricity and drawing the attention of other drivers nearby. Daniel Ricciardo, ever the diplomat, stepped in with a quick joke to diffuse the situation, breaking the charged silence.

Even as the event continued and the focus shifted elsewhere, you could still feel Max’s gaze on you, like a challenge waiting to be answered.

That night, as you replayed the interaction in your mind, it left you feeling equal parts irritation and curiosity. Max was everything you’d been warned about—brash, arrogant, and maddeningly self-assured.

But there was something else too, something in the way his eyes had lingered on yours, as if he saw you as a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

And maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

[kathlare]

a familiar stranger

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: At the annual drivers' dinner in Abu Dhabi, Lando is caught off guard when Amelie unexpectedly returns to the scene.

Wordcount: 1.8 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

November 17th, 2024 - Yas Island, Abu Dhabi

The drivers' annual dinner in Abu Dhabi was never meant to be anything special—just a casual night where the drivers could sit down, have a meal, and share some laughs away from the prying eyes of the media and their teams. They were all used to the spotlight, but for tonight, they could relax and be themselves without the pressure.

Lando had always enjoyed these dinners, even if they were a little too formal for his liking. It was an opportunity to unwind, have a few drinks, and catch up with everyone, especially after a long, grueling season. As he arrived at the venue, the air was thick with chatter and laughter. It was a familiar sound—the kind that always seemed to echo in his mind when he thought of the drivers as a group. There was camaraderie here, shared experiences, and a sense of community that Lando could always count on.

He slid into his seat at the long table, offering a grin to Charles and Alex, who were already bantering about something—probably racing strategies or their most recent online game debacle. Lando’s eyes scanned the room, exchanging pleasantries with a few more familiar faces before he sat back and relaxed.

As the evening unfolded, the conversation flowed effortlessly, with jokes and stories bouncing between the drivers. Lando laughed along with them, nursing a drink in hand. It was easy to lose himself in the moment, surrounded by friends who had become like family over the years. For the first time in a long time, he felt a semblance of peace—a break from the whirlwind of his life.

Then the door opened, and everything changed.

He wasn’t the only one to notice. The atmosphere shifted as heads turned toward the new arrival. At first, Lando didn’t pay much attention, assuming it was just a latecomer or maybe a server bringing something in. But then he caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair, a laugh that sent a jolt through his chest.

It couldn’t be.

Amelie.

She stood in the doorway, her face lit up in surprise as Checo jumped to his feet. Lando watched as the two embraced, Checo pulling her into a bear hug, his voice breaking as he said something Lando couldn’t quite hear. The room erupted in cheers and applause, everyone clapping at the unexpected reunion.

Lando felt his breath catch in his throat, his grip tightening around his glass as he stared at her. It was her. It had been over a year since he’d last seen her, and yet somehow, she looked both completely different and exactly the same. Her hair was now a bright, striking blonde, falling in soft waves past her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her look radiant. Her outfit was simple but effortlessly elegant—jeans paired with a black tank top and a leather jacket slung over her shoulders. But it wasn’t just her appearance. She carried herself differently. There was a lightness about her, a glow that Lando hadn’t seen before.

Fuck, she looked beautiful.

He told himself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around him, but he couldn’t. His chest tightened with a flood of emotions he hadn’t felt in months—emotions he thought he’d buried. Seeing her now, so close yet so far, it was like she was reopening a part of him he’d locked away.

Amelie made her way into the room, her laughter ringing out again as she greeted the drivers one by one. The others were on their feet, crowding around her, welcoming her back like a long-lost sister. It was no secret that she’d grown up around the sport, spending years traveling to races with her family, forming bonds with many of them. To the drivers, she was more than Checo’s sister-in-law—she was family.

Lando stayed in his seat, his mind racing. The last time he’d seen her was in May of 2021, when everything between them had fallen apart. He’d told himself it was for the best, that their lives were too different, too complicated to make things work. But now, sitting here, he wasn’t so sure.

Charles, who was sitting next to him, nudged his shoulder. —You alright, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.—

Lando forced a laugh, shaking his head. —Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect her to show up, that’s all.—

—None of us did,— Alex chimed in from across the table. —But it’s good to see her. She looks happy, doesn’t she?—

Happy. That was the word that kept echoing in Lando’s mind. She did look happy—happier than he’d ever seen her. And that realization hit him harder than he cared to admit.

He watched as Amelie finally made her way to their end of the table, her smile widening as she approached Checo. The older man’s eyes were misty as he pulled her into another hug, his voice thick with emotion.

—I can’t believe you’re here,— Checo said, his words carrying over the chatter in the room. —You didn’t tell anyone you were coming.—

—I wanted to surprise you,— Amelie replied, her voice soft but filled with warmth. —It’s been too long.—

Checo stepped back, wiping at his eyes with a laugh. —Too long? It’s been forever. Look at you... you’re all grown up now.—

Amelie rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile didn’t waver. —I’m 21, Checo. Hardly ‘all grown up.’—

The exchange brought a round of laughter from the drivers, and for a moment, Lando allowed himself to smile. She hadn’t changed that much—still quick-witted, still capable of lighting up a room without even trying.

As Amelie greeted the others, Lando felt his stomach twist. He knew it was only a matter of time before she reached him. Part of him wanted to stand up, to walk over and say something—anything—but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

And then, it happened.

Amelie’s gaze met his, and for a split second, the world seemed to stop. Her smile faltered, just for a moment, before she composed herself and continued down the line of drivers. She didn’t say a word to him, didn’t even acknowledge his presence beyond that brief glance. It was as if he didn’t exist.

Lando’s chest tightened, his jaw clenching as he tried to push down the sting of her indifference. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—a warm greeting, an awkward conversation, maybe even a cold shoulder—but this? This was worse.

Amelie moved on, her laugh ringing out as she embraced George, then Alex, and finally Carlos, who made some joke in Spanish that had her doubling over with laughter. The others were equally animated, everyone drawn to her like moths to a flame. She was the same Amelie he remembered, yet... not. The effortless way she carried herself, the confidence that seemed to radiate from her—it was new. It was different.

Lando sat frozen, his hands gripping the edges of his chair as he fought to keep his emotions in check. She hadn’t looked at him again, not once, as if the brief flicker of eye contact they’d shared had never happened. His mind raced with everything he wanted to say to her, everything he wanted to ask. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

—Mate, you okay?— Carlos’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. The Spaniard had returned to his seat, his dark eyes studying Lando carefully.

—Yeah,— Lando replied, his voice tight. —I’m fine.—

Carlos raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t push. Instead, his gaze flicked across the room, where Amelie was now chatting animatedly with Charles and Pierre. She looked completely at ease, her head tilting back as she laughed at something Pierre had said.

Max, seated on Lando’s other side, leaned in slightly. —You’re not fine,— he muttered under his breath, his tone more knowing than curious.

Lando shot him a glare. —Drop it, Max.—

But Max didn’t. His gaze flicked between Amelie and Lando, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. —It’s been a while, hasn’t it?—

Lando didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Max knew. He always had.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Lando. Conversations swirled around him, jokes were made, and drinks were poured, but he was only half present. His focus kept drifting back to Amelie—her laughter, the way her hands moved as she talked, the way she effortlessly drew everyone in.

He watched her from across the room, his chest tightening every time she smiled or tossed her hair over her shoulder. She was magnetic, and the fact that she seemed so completely unfazed by his presence only added to the sting.

He remembered how things used to be—the stolen moments, the whispered conversations, the way she’d look at him like he was the only person in the world. He thought he’d moved on, that he’d buried those feelings deep enough to forget. But seeing her now, so close yet so unreachable, brought everything rushing back with a force he wasn’t prepared for.

At one point, Amelie caught Max’s attention and walked over to him. Lando tensed, watching their interaction out of the corner of his eye. Max greeted her warmly, pulling her into a quick hug, but his gaze flickered toward Lando as they spoke. There was something in Max’s expression—an unspoken understanding that made Lando’s stomach churn.

Carlos, who had been quietly observing the entire evening, leaned closer to Lando. —So, are you going to talk to her, or are you just going to sit there sulking all night?—

—I’m not sulking,— Lando shot back, his voice low. —And no, I’m not going to talk to her.—

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. —She looks... different. Happier.—

Lando didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Carlos was right, and it only made the ache in his chest worse.

Across the room, Amelie was now chatting with Esteban and Mick, her smile as bright as ever. Lando felt a pang of jealousy—an irrational, stupid feeling that he had no right to. She wasn’t his. She hadn’t been his for a long time.

But that didn’t stop the memories from flooding back. The late-night drives, the quiet moments when it was just the two of them, the way her laugh used to make his heart race. He’d thought he could handle seeing her again, that he’d be fine. He was wrong.

Max returned to his seat, and for a moment, there was silence between him and Lando. Then Max spoke, his voice low enough that only Lando could hear. —You still love her, don’t you?—

Lando froze, his jaw tightening. —It doesn’t matter.—

Max raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting toward Amelie. —It’s going to matter, mate. Sooner or later.—

Lando didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew Max was right.

[educatedsimps]

Heyo! Quick request here because my FYP wants to make me suffer with all the Bokuto angst I’ve been seeing related to different fics (like in another life, ect). WHY DO FANFIC AUTHORS KEEP KILLING HIM OFF??? ITS DRIVING ME NUTS 😭😭 Anyway, I’d like to request some fluff with Bokuto to counteract the angst I’ve been seeing. Maybe the reader wakes up from a nightmare similar to what’s been going on in these fics and he cheers her up by being his normal happy self? Take that my FYP hahaha

(I love your writing btw! I literally pause whatever I’m doing to read anything you’ve posted! You’re my fav author on this website <3)

≪ back to fics masterlist

bokuto kōtarō x f!reader

a/n: nah bro in another life fucking broke me 🥲 i read it in like 2021 (i think??) and that angst still haunts me to this very day 😀 anyway ofc bae i literally had a fic with this nightmare/comfort idea in my google keep drafts for the LONGEST time so it's time to finally put it out there lol. ALSO I'M SO GLAD U LIKE OUR WORKS omg "favourite author"??? MY HEART ✋😭 TY FOR READING ANON ILYSM 😭💕 hope u enjoy this bae and thanku for requesting, it was truly a joy writing this!

cw: idk man just bokuto fluff and comfort typa thing cuz he’s bokuto and the B in bokuto stands for best boyfriend (b)ever

"so he’s killed in the straight aus and sent back to be with akaashi cause we will nvr recover from in another life" -yves 2024

Jolting awake, you felt fresh tears rolling past your cheeks and staining your pillow. Eyes wide, you scanned your surroundings. Same room, same bed, same pyjamas...

Was that all a dream? But... It had felt so terrifyingly real that you had woken up in a cold sweat with ugly tears streaming down your face. Heart palpitating, you tried to regulate your breathing and convinced yourself that it was just a dream.

Feeling a warm breath brush the back of your neck, you turned to see your boyfriend, Bokuto Kōtarō, sleeping soundly next to you. His breaths were slow and deep, and you watched as his bare chest rose and fell. With a beefy arm slung over your waist, he held you close to him throughout the night, keeping you warm. The dim moonlight from your window illuminated his features and his face looked so peaceful (and beautiful) you couldn't help but stare.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you soaked up the warmth radiating from his body. Not wanting to wake him, you furiously wiped the tears from your cheeks and tried to quiet your sobs.

Unfortunately for you, Bokuto's hearing was as sharp as an owl's, and he stirred with a groggy "Y/n?"

A sniffle.

He jerked his head up to look at you clearly. Your head was buried in his chest. "Y/n?"

Another sniffle. He was starting to panic.

"Babe! Babe, what happened?" He asked softly, placing a hand under your chin and tilting your head up. He swore he heard his heart go crack when he saw your tears. You responded by burying your face in his neck again.

Realising you probably weren't ready to talk just yet, he decided to distract you first. Pulling your trembling body to his, he gently rubbed circles on your back and pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.

He hummed, "You know, I was thinking the other day. Maybe we could install a small spinning light thingy in the corner of our room so it's not so dark at night. I know you don't really like it when it's pitch black in the room sooo I figured maybe that could help! I was scrolling online and saw some designs I thought you'd like, but I forgot to copy the link to send it to you but I can look for it again and show it to you later-"

He paused abruptly when you raised your head, sitting up and looking at him with a half-smile on your face.

"You okay?" He asked, concern taking over his features. He shifted so that you both were half sitting with your legs still tangled under the blanket. "Wanna talk about it?"

With yet another sniffle, you nodded. As you recounted your nightmare, Bokuto continued rubbing your arm soothingly, occasionally wiping away your tears with his thumb. His head was tilted to the side in the most adorable fashion and his eyes were fully focused on you as you spoke.

"And... and then you died," You whispered, voice hoarse and shaky. Looking into his bright amber eyes, you continued. "It was so scary, Kō..."

"But I’m right here, aren’t I?" He asked almost immediately. Bending down to your eye level, he looked at you with such a pure and genuine smile. Your heart beat faster under his gaze.

"And I’m gonna be right here forever. I’ll be here when you wake up from bad dreams and good dreams, and I’ll be here on the nights you can’t fall asleep. I’ll be your protector, Y/n!” He continued, beaming. He swiftly placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll protect you from all the nightmares, I promise! And see? I’m totally fine! Those killers ain't got nothing on us. I won’t let ‘em touch my baby.”

He concluded his little cheer-up speech with a sweet kiss on your lips. His hand brushed your jaw, pulling you closer. If you weren’t seated firmly on the bed, your knees probably would’ve given out from how sweet the kiss was. Either that or you would’ve gotten severe cavities before the kiss ended.

Pulling away, he wrapped you up in his arms and you felt your lips pull into a smile. His cheery mood really was contagious.

Gently pushing you into a lying position, he grabbed the blanket and pulled it over your bodies, essentially bundling the two of you together.

“Time to get some sleep, babe. I’ll be right here, ‘kay?” He said, now hugging you under the covers. You hummed, feeling safe and content.

“Oh yeah, we should definitely get a spinning light thingy. It might help with the nightmares ‘cause it won’t be as dark,” you piped up. Chuckling, Bokuto agreed.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I love you more,” you yawned.

“I love you the most-est!”

You felt another kiss on the crown of your head before you drifted off to sleep.

a/n: UMMM i hope this was nightmarish/comfort/cheery enough?? IDK IM SORRY IF IT DIDNT MEET THE REQUIREMENTS 😭 but still, tysm for requesting and thanku for reading too!! hope u liked it :,) (feel free to request another part if you’re not satisfied)

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarise any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[gayzing-away]

Jai Courtney in Jolt (2021)

[foreverlogical]

Wednesday brought new allegations from the Department of Justice on Donald Trump’s attempts to subvert the 2020 election, and Thursday’s print edition of The New York Times wedged its story on them into one skinny column that appeared mostly below the fold. This stands in stark contrast with the paper’s treatment of Hillary Clinton’s emails in 2016. 

On Wednesday, a federal court filing from special counsel Jack Smith’s team was unsealed. In the document, the Justice Department alleges that Trump “used deceit to target every stage of the electoral process” in 2020. The filing notes that after an aide told Trump about the threat that the Jan. 6, 2021, riot at the U.S. Capitol posed to then-Vice President Mike Pence, who refused to subvert the 2020 election results, Trump replied, “So what?”

The document also lays out evidence bolstering the charge that Trump knew his claims of election fraud were false, even as his campaign pushed to undermine vote counts.

In the paper’s Oct. 29, 2016, print edition, the lead photo was of Clinton and aide Huma Abedin, and the lead all-caps headline of the day read “New Emails Jolt Clinton Campaign In Race’s Last Days.”

The New York Times, frequently described as the “newspaper of record” for the United States, has come under criticism for the tone of its election coverage.

According to a study published in June by Media Matters for America, the Times published 32 articles about the ages of Trump and President Joe Biden, but 78% of those stories focused on Biden’s age alone, while only 6% (two articles) focused on just Trump.

The paper has also underplayed June’s positive inflation report, which was released as the Trump campaign attacked the Biden administration over the issue. The Times also provided scant coverage of a policy proposal by Trump that experts have said would raise food costs.

In his Sept. 10 presidential debate against Democratic nominee Kamala Harris, Trump pushed the racist “great replacement” conspiracy theory, which falsely claims that immigrants are being brought to the U.S. to replace white people. In a fact-check of Trump’s statement, the Times merely noted that his claim “lacks evidence” and did not connect it to its roots in the white supremacist movement.

There are also issues with the Times’ coverage of Ohio Sen. JD Vance, Trump’s running mate. The paper reported on Vance’s false claim that Harris' running mate, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, left military service because his unit had been ordered into service in Iraq, but it did not inform readers that this was a lie.

In a July 15 report on Vance’s stance on abortion, the paper edited a quote from the candidate to make it appear as if he opposes a federal abortion ban. However, the full context makes clear Vance backs a “minimum national standard” on the issue—which is a ban.

The Times’ influential reporting has historically had a significant effect on world events. Possibly the most negative episode of this occurred in the case of the paper’s amplification of false claims by the George W. Bush administration that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction.

[chbflametinker]

Letter to Patroclus

Patroclus, my heart's most faithful half,

Didn't I tell you to stay in the chariot? To not throw the spear? I felt betrayed thinking of your disobedience. The way your smooth tongue found a loophole amongst my words, just like Odysseus would, and you returned to me, unbreathing. Ah, Odysseus, back with his lover, Penelope, in Ithaca, and Hector with his family in the underworld. I saw the reunited family when I finally met my demise—when I saw Paris shoot that arrow towards me, guided by Lord Apollo. But to my utmost surprise, I did not see you here in Elysium. Paradise, they call it, for heroes like me. But is this even paradise when you're not here?

I wandered around, searching for your soul, wanting to express my love, gratitude, resentment, and guilt toward you. However, I am met with only great kings, princes, and other heroic demigods and mortals who know my name. Hearing my name praised by them isn't the same as hearing it from your lips—those lips I've tasted so many times. I fear the men and women after our generation would consider us mere brothers, cousins, or best friends. You are most definitely more than that to me, my Philtatos — most beloved.

As I sat by the River Lethe here in Elysium, I must confess, I wanted to bathe in it, to erase the memories of my pride overruling my judgment. Hubris, the sole reason I lost you. Then I pondered; I whispered your name, "Patroclus, glory of his father." Pater...Kleos...was the "glory" I was chasing and fighting for my whole life...you? You were there all along, begging me to help the Greeks, but my foolish self cared more for Agamemnon's insult toward me than your life. Briseis was right; you were worth ten of me…even more. I remember those nights when you, unbreathing, lay beside me. I'd jolt wide awake, screaming that I am finally here to help you win against the Trojans, against Hector. Then I look to my side, and there it is; your cold, unmoving body, your pale hands that once held my face. I shook your body. No response, and I, once again, wept.

I wish we were back in Chiron's humble abode, just eating figs, playing the lyre, and training. We could have grown old together. I could have thrown an apple at you and bound our souls together, Homophrosyne, like Odysseus and Penelope. But wishful thinking would get me nowhere now, wouldn't it?

With much love and regret, Achilles

This is my entry to my enlistment in my club at university; no one should repost this literary piece into which I poured my heart. I only wanted to share this since I am really proud of it. Please contact me IMMEDIATELY if someone reposted it on any social media platform. Thank you!

Artwork credit:

alessia.trunfio. (2021, December 1). “He’s the half of my soul, as poets say.” Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/CW6H2jOrJBc/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==