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pia-nor481 · 6 months ago

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Dating Advice

Lando Norris x Reader x Daniel Ricciardo 18+

Lando is in desperate need of advice in securing a date. He does so, just not in the way he expected

6.8k words Masterlist

"Don't laugh at me. It's not funny." Lando groaned, pouring himself another drink. "It is a little bit. You're a rich formula one driver who many women think is attractive and you can't get a second date. Are you sure it's not your personality." Daniel jested, arms behind his head as he leant back on the bed. "I'm being serious, asking for dating advice and all I get back is you laughing in my face. Is that not a turn off for your girlfriend?" Lando pouted, bringing the glass to his lips. "Hey don't start on me. You don't know how long it look me to actually get a girlfriend; who, may I add, wasn't easy to win over." Daniel said, reaching for his beer on the night stand. "Oh really, like you had to work for it. Rich formula one driver." Lando was a little bitter, he hadn't been laid in months, and it wasn't from a lack of trying.

"Tell me what you're actually doing, maybe we can find the problem." Lando was convinced that he was meeting the wrong kind of woman. "Well, you know, usually I'd pick her up from her place, bring flowers...Don't act surprised I'm not evil. Go out to dinner, of course I pay, again I'm not evil, plus this is Monaco so it's kind of required of me...Then you know..." Lando trailed off, reaching for his drink, desperately trying to ease his nerves. "Are you kidding me. You really are a dog." Daniel laughed, almost choking on his beer. "I am not. You're acting like you weren't when you first started racing." The brit finally sat down sighing. "Not really, I didn't have much game back then. Plus, if that's how you're ending the night, why are you acting like you've not gotten any in months?" Lando just looked down at his glass, not acknowledging Daniel's presence in the slightest. "Oh my, you've slept with them all. Every eligible woman in Monaco you've already had sex with. What are you? Some streetwalker?" Lando's face contorted as he heard the Australian's voice, it didn't matter how the sentence was worded, it always sounded horrific. "Maybe. Look it's not that bad. I asked for advice didn't I? We've been friends for years. So...Help me, please." His voice almost whined in desperation. "It doesn't matter what advice I give you. There's no one left to exercise it on." Daniel laughed, getting up to grab another drink.

"Please don't ask me if I know any good doctors." Daniel muttered, looking to the side at Lando. "I don't have an STD. I'm a slut not an idiot." Lando crossed his arms as he spoke. "Good."

"Anyway, we know what you've done wrong. She is automatically assuming that she's just a hook up. You've created that idea. " Daniel stated with his hands back behind his head. "One good thing you're doing right is the flowers, the rest must come from what you say." Lando was slightly hurt, but he had to admit it now that his friend pointed it out, that he was the problem. "To be honest I don't really remember what I said." Lando muttered into his glass. "Enough to get her into bed clearly...Sorry that was a low blow." The Australian was quick to sip on the alcohol before beginning to speak again. "So one of the best things you can do is really get her talking, mostly about herself. But put in a few double questions if you will; a question specific enough that it gets a slightly personal or unique response but also generic enough that she can ask about you. But first you have to complement her, 'You look gorgeous tonight', 'Those earrings are really pretty', one thing I will say about jewellery, don't ask where it's from or where she got it in case it's a family thing and you know talking about dead relatives ain't great chat. Anyway make sure it's specific, if she's wearing a gold necklace make sure you mention it's gold, it shows that you're actually paying attention to her." Lando payed attention to every word that left Daniel's mouth, taking mental notes diligently.

"Then move onto DHA. Her dreams, hopes and aspirations. Trust me... panty peeler." Daniel stated like it was the simplest thing in the world. Lando shook his head slowly, trying to fathom how that would work in securing him a second date. "Seriously? What happened to not having game?" Lando said, astounded at Daniel's advice. "Hey, I have a girlfriend don't I? Plus it took six dates to even get her to my place so, I think I did pretty well." He spoke hand on his heart, clearly offended. "So, was it a panty peeler?" The brit rushed out, quickly downing the rest of his drink. Daniel rolled his eyes before speaking again. "Obviously, but definitely later than six dates. She wasn't easy." He was smiling just thinking about her. "Alright, don't rub it in."

"You know what?" Daniel started, almost jumping up from the bed. "You need to test your newfound knowledge." He slurred, stumbling slightly as he got up. They had been talking at Daniel's flat for hours, mostly about the recent Bills game and the next quadrant video, so talking for hours lead to plenty of alcohol. "What are you on about?" Lando wasn't particularly sober either, but that didn't stop his curiosity. "You need a fake date, where I can help guide you a bit." Lando's eyes widened hearing Daniel's proposal. "I'm not going out with you and you're girlfriend." Lando stated, shaking his head, he didn't drink as much as Daniel, he never did, but even he could tell that Daniel was in no state of mind for this conversation. "Nah man. We do it here. You can practice, get it right with some help, and maybe you can travel to Nice and find a lady there." It was clear Daniel was getting too excited about the thought. "I need to get home. We'll talk about this later."

When she came home from work the following morning she was surprised to find Daniel laying askew on the sofa. She made quick work in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and looking for some pain killers. "Danny." She whispered, shaking him slightly. "Danny, wake up." He slowly began to stir, meeting her eyes with a smile. "Morning, Darling." He almost groaned, taking the water but not the pills. Exhaustion painted her face as she sat beside him, curious about the night he had.

"So, did you and Lando do anything interesting?" She spoke softly, mindful of the state Daniel is in. He bought his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him before speaking. "Mostly stuff you've already heard from me or I know you don't really care for." She got up once again, not worried for her boyfriend anymore, and ventured back to the kitchen, desperate for a warm drink in what now was the morning. "But?" She asked as she opened the cupboards. "I found out he's slept with every single lady in Monaco, and possibly Nice, but he didn't say anything about the French." Daniel said as he got up, following her into the kitchen. "No." Her disbelief was apparent in her tone, even as Daniel slid his arms around her waist and mumbled a quiet 'I know' into her neck. Her cheeks warmed at the feeling. "So you spent hours talking to Lando about his love life?" She wanted to distract herself from the feeling of him against her, thinking about anything that would keep her thoughts away from the fact his cock was pushed against her ass. "Maybe a little bit of you...Anyway Lando was asking for a little bit of help with actually dating women." Daniel stole the mug out of her hand and took a sip, burning his tongue slightly. "Serves you right." She laughed, turning around in his grasp. "So what did you say?" She was curious, they spoke about past relationships before, Daniel mostly about his lack of them, so she was slightly shocked that Lando would go to her boyfriend for advice. In his younger days he was very focused on racing, to a point that he had no time for relationships, so at the time he was supposed to be learning the best way to woo a woman, his mind was filled with a steering wheel and how to use DRS. "Exactly what I did to win you over." His hands met her cheeks, pulling her in for a sweet kiss.

"How kind of you. Considering he has already been with every woman in Monaco, is he going to be traveling to find himself a girlfriend?" Upon hearing her statement Daniel become slightly nervous, perhaps asking his partner to go on a fake date with one of his best friends was not the best idea. "Well I may have made a suggestion." His hand left her waist and found the back of his neck rather quickly as his eyes shifted from her face. "I think Lando should practice before he travels to Italy to find a girlfriend." He said in a slightly higher tone. "Let me guess, you're brilliant idea was for me to be the date?" She pondered out loud. At this point she was really considering it, it didn't really have any impact in their relationship. So realistically what could go wrong? "Has Lando already agreed?" She asked with a small smile, easing Daniel's nerves slightly. "Not yet, I was pretty drunk when I suggested it, to be fair so was he, so maybe he doesn't even remember. We will see. The worst that can happen is he says no." A small shred of excitement ran through her. "Call him later, you know how long it takes him to get up after he's been drinking."

She went to bed both peaceful and enthused. She was hopeful that Lando says yes, and this quickly led to a spiral of questions: Where would they be? What would she wear? What was he going to ask her? How would she answer? It almost concerned her, she probably shouldn't be feeling so excited to go on a date, even if it was a pretend one, with her boyfriend's friend.

Daniel grabbed his phone almost immediately after she fell asleep. Lando struggled to pick up his phone while still laying in bed. Lando was smaller than Daniel so alcohol always hit him faster and for longer. "What do you want?" Lando groaned into the phone, eyes still closed. "That's no way to speak to the friend that secured you a practice date." Daniel huffed down the line, playfulness practically bubbling out of him. "Are you being serious? You actually remembered asking me to go on a date with your girlfriend, and have somehow convinced her?" Lando was both shocked and amused. He sat up slightly, running his hand through his curly hair. "I didn't actually do any convincing, if I'm honest she figured it out." The brit's jaw fell open slightly, not only did he not expect Daniel to remember, he especially didn't expect his girlfriend to agree. "When?" He we was unsure as to what made him ask, but if it was going to help him then it was a good idea. "Tomorrow night, around eight." Daniel spoke softly, not wanting to cause his friend anymore stress in an already immensely stressful situation. "Alright." He hung up and threw his phone back on the bed as he stood up. At this point in time he was mostly nervous and a little bit confused. There was a lot he needed to do before going to their house. Most of it being mental preparation.

She awoke a few hours later with Daniel by her side. "Morning Love." He whispered as soft as possible. He said morning although it was a few minutes until it could be called afternoon. She moved in silence so her head was resting on her chest, leg over his. "What did he say?" She mumbled, interlocking their hands. "Yes." Her eyes widened, realising that she actually had to go on a date with Lando Norris. "It's tomorrow evening, here of course. I'll be you're chef and waiter." He giggled, squeezing her hand in his. "Okay." She whispered into his chest. "Can I ask you something...It's unrelated but still important?" He questioned, avoiding her eyes once again. She hummed, looking up at him. "It's about what we talked about before." His nerves where sky high, they shouldn't have been considering it was his suggestion. "What's her name?" Daniel was extremely lucky that his girlfriend was okay with almost anything, well actually she was more willing to try almost everything. "First of all, never said it was a woman, second I've not found anyone. I was wondering if you have, or if you were maybe changing your mind." Daniel was sweet in more ways than one, he always asked, even if he think he knew the answer. "I haven't and no I've not. We talked about this months ago, have you changed your mind?" He shook his head, it was hard to find someone you trusted to have a threesome with. "What brought this about then? This is about Lando. Do you want to ask him?" Daniel would have asked Max if he wasn't in a committed relationship. But to think, he wanted to have a threesome with his former team mate. It sounded weird when he put it like that. "Maybe. I've only really thought about it for all of ten minutes, and to be fair, I have seen his nudes in his camera roll before. But hey that's a conversation for another time." His small rant sent a wave of curiosity through her. Would Lando be the right fit for them. "Lets take some baby steps. He asked for some dating advice, not to fuck us. We'll see how that goes, then we can see if he's willing." She stated, a rather wide smile painting her face.

The following day Lando began to panic slightly as he slipped his arms through his shirt, and made work on the buttons. He felt as though it would be really awkward and that worried him. Would this sour his relationship with Daniel slightly? Lando didn't think he could cope with that. His hands shook slightly as he got out of his car, flowers in a lose grip. He knocked on the door a few times before she finally answered. "Hello Lando." He wanted to lightly kiss her cheek, as he usually would but hesitated, he needed to remember this is Daniel's girlfriend, not a random date. "Go for it, nothing is off limits. We need to see what you're doing." Daniel stated matter of factly. The word 'Nothing' worried Lando further, because what did nothing really mean? Lando pulled her in for a short hug as he kissed her cheek softly. He handed her the bouquet with a sweet smile. "Thank you, they are lovely." She almost whispered walking through the flat towards the kitchen, reaching for the vase. "How are you?" He asked, voice low. Lando never considered himself shy, but tonight he was struggling. "I've been good, looking forward to this evening with you." Lando thought her acting was all to convincing, no one's girlfriend should seem this enthusiastic about going on a date with their boyfriend's friend. "And how are you?" She was quick to question as she turned to face him. "Well, I've been looking forward to seeing you too." He stated sweetly. Soon the silence was interrupted by Daniel making an almost 'wrong buzzer sound'. "You can't just repeat what she just said, It looks like you're not really bothered. Try again." He turned back around, stirring the sauce for the pasta. Lando sighed before speaking again. "Really good actually. I've been excited to see you." He turned to the side, looking at Daniel for conformation, who just nodded slightly.

Lando linked their hands as he guided her to the table. Daniel came over and poured the wine and gave the brit a slight nod. "Start with step one." Lando's chest was rising and falling rather quickly, he had never been so anxious sat across the table from a lady before. "You're earrings are really pretty, I like that the stones match you're dress." He stated as a light blush painted his cheeks. Daniel helped her get ready, from choosing the dress to helping her put it on. He wanted her to be as she would if they were on a date, which included a gorgeous dress, pretty earrings and a lovely pair of heels. He loved getting ready with her, especially when she would button up his shirt for him. "That's good, you're being specific enough that she feels noticed." Daniel could read her like a book, he could tell that she was becoming flustered already. He complemented, no practically worshiped her, all the time, yet she couldn't help her reaction to hearing it from Lando. "Oh, Um...Thank you." She was shocked in her own reaction and reached for her drink, taking a rather large sip.

"So tell me, what have you been doing these past few days?" She questioned, leaning forward. Lando began to panic, he knows exactly what he did for the whole of the week, yet he just couldn't answer; he wasn't prepared to be asked a question so soon. He licked his lips before he began speaking. "I've spent some time with my sisters and my friend Danny. I think keeping up with family and friends is really important, so I try to do it as much as possible." Lando said with a small smile, looking back at her. "So what about you? Surely a pretty Lady like yourself must have had other dates." He asked, nerves rising once again as he brought his wine closer, almost cuddling the drink. "You have to be careful with that, depending on who she is, she might take that in a really bad way. Rephrase the sentence so you're not painting her as some kind of slut."

Lando necked the glass for a small amount of extra confidence. "So what about you? A pretty Lady like yourself must be busy." He looked up to her again, a small smile on her face. He let her talk for a while, repeating the last few words of some sentence in an almost questioning tone, showing her that he was engaged. Daniel came over again, placing the bowls of pasta in front of them. "DHA." Was all he said as he looked at Lando, who's blush deepened at the thought. She was quickly confused by the acronym. This must have been 'How Daniel secured her'. "What do you plan to do in the future?" Lando was becoming slightly less nervous by the minute, until Daniel repeated the dreaded sound. "That's not specific enough. Show her that you're paying attention." The Australian stated, pulling himself on the counter. Lando was beginning to get frustrated. "What do you plan to do in the next three years?" Lando's tone was slightly sweeter, he waited until she said something small that could be expanded on. Daniel continued to eat the remaining pasta out of the pot as he listened to his girlfriend talk about her dreams, her answers have of course changed, but he felt almost a little hurt that he didn't know most of her answers. "Oh wow." Lando was genuinely surprised with what she wanted to achieve, it made him excited to see her again. Quickly he realised how wrong that was. He shouldn't find her as attractive as he does. Is he a terrible person?

"That's all you've got to say? It's a good thing you're good in bed." She giggled out as Daniel choked on the pasta. "That was a bit mean Darling." Lando's blush deepened to a red. Was he supposed to become flustered when his friend spoke that was? Probably not. He shouldn't be reacting this way, he knows that, yet he can't help but feel slightly aroused. "Oh come on. He must be." She turned back to him with a sly smirk. Lando was confused, he knew if he told Daniel something then it was likely that she would be told too, and he didn't have a problem with it. But now he was surprised, he'd never heard her say such a thing. Lando felt as though he needed to match her, "Well I've not had any complaints." Her eyebrow furrowed before she lifted up her glass, finishing the rest of the drink. "Is that so?" Daniel mirrored her smile.

"Well it's hard to not be good at something you been doing for years, It's pretty easy to adapt woman to woman." Lando stated as his head tilted to the side. "Hold on. Hold on. You do the same thing...Every time?" Daniel jumped down from the counter in shock , while she was slightly taken aback and disappointed; Surely that couldn't have been fun, then again it was with different woman who would have all reacted differently, so maybe it wasn't as boring as it seemed. "You've got to spill, especially if none of their friends have said not to go out with you." The Australian practically begged. He pulling her out of the seat as Lando began to speak again. "You don't need those details." She was pulled into Daniel's lap during Lando's embarrassment. "Oh come on, please. It will help. You know what? Maybe it's not what you're saying, maybe it's the reputation you've created. They expect you to take em home and fuck em good." Daniel was a little tipsy again and Lando wasn't too far behind. "That's not gonna help me secure a date that is willing to come back." This so called 'date' quickly became an interrogation of friends. "Oh come on, we're curious, if every woman in Monaco wants to sleep with you, you must be good." She smiled, stealing her drink back from Daniel, who's arms were tight around her waist. "Well, I guess so, but it's not as fun as you think. Always being Dominant, always doing the work. It gets, pretty boring."

They could finally see why he was so desperate, and although Daniel would disagree that always being dominant was boring, he could still sympathise. In a relationship there is more trust and willingness to experiment with one's partner, always keeping things interesting. Yet with dates accompanied with sex, that would be almost impossible to do.

"Okay then, why don't you be good and listen to what I have to say?" She whispered out in a rather seductive tone, leaving Daniel in the seat as she made way to the brit on the other side of the table. She pushed her knee between his legs as she began to speak, "Will you be good for me Lando?" Blood rushed to his cock as he finally made sense of the words that left her mouth. He shouldn't be as turned on as he was, he didn't know if he was even allowed to be. "Well Lando, are you?" Daniel repeated. How long had Lando been thinking? How long had he been focused on the feeling of his hard cock? Too long if it meant his friend gave him permission. "I promise, I'll be good." He almost whimpered , avoiding her eyes. She was quick to straddle him, grabbing his neck as she did so. "Yeah? Are you going to do everything I ask?" She whispered before lowering her lips towards his neck. "Yes, anything." Lando said followed by a low moan. Daniel was surprised to see this part of her. The Australian was quick to get involved. His fingers threaded through Lando's hair as he appeared behind him. "Good." Daniel said, voice dropping an octave.

She pulled Lando out of the chair and towards the bedroom, Daniel quick to follow. "Strip." Was all she said when the brit reached the bed, and as he said he would, Lando listened. He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, although struggling to begin with. As he reached the final button he looked up, eyes met with the sight of them kissing; Daniel's hands roamed over her slowly, first groping her ass shamelessly, before working his way up her spine, dancing over every vertebrae. Her hands rested on his jaw, almost as if she was pulling him in as close as possible. Lando was getting harder by the second, to the point it was almost painful. "Lando...Come take the dress off her." Daniel spoke in an almost condescending tone, and he knows it should not be as attractive as it is. Lando almost rushed over, pulling her hair out of the way before slowly sliding the zip down. She let the dress fall as she turned, looking at the desperate man before her. "I thought you said you were going to do everything I said. It seems you've decided to go back on your word already." She said shaking her head. Lando was confused for a moment, until he looked down, he only managed to take his shirt off, not the trousers. "So how are you going to punish him Darling?" Daniel asked, hands now resting on her hips, he pulled her back slightly, so her ass was resting against his hardening cock. "I think, since it was his first mistake, we go easy." She started, looking back at her boyfriend. Lando was slightly relieved until he heard her voice once more, "You don't get to cum. Not until you've made me and Daniel cum with your mouth. It's only fair since you can't follow simple instructions." She glanced back at Daniel and was pleased with the small nod from him. She knew she couldn't go too hard as didn't know what he could handle. Lando on the other hand didn't think he could cope any longer. His left hand could only get him off so much. He wanted to feel someone else, that's what he needed. So having that taken away from him was devastating.

She moved towards the bed and sat at the edge, looking Lando in the eyes as she spoke. "Come here." She beckoned him over. The brit was quick to drop to his knees as he spread her legs further apart. He knew it wouldn't take him long to make her cum. That had almost become his specialty. Lando preferred to have multiple rounds so keeping foreplay as short as possible was almost a necessity for him, yet he still needed her well prepared. "Go on." Daniel whispered in his ear, pushing his head down lightly. Lando licked a long stripe up her cunt, looking up to see her reaction briefly. He wasn't told what she actually like so he wanted to find out as quick as possible. He first started by applying a light pressure with his tongue, circling slowly. He didn't even get so much as a gasp. As he began to lick up and down at a faster rate he let his thoughts come back.

"A little faster." Daniel whispered again, feeling a little sorry for his friend. The Australian's hand travelled down from Lando's abs down to his cock, squeezing lightly, he could feel it throb in his hands. Lando moaned into her cunt, temporarily losing control of himself. He soon felt her leg over his shoulder, pulling his body closer to hers, and was quickly brought back to reality. He laid his tongue flat on her clit and shook his head side to side, conscious of the speed he was doing so, almost thankful for Daniel's help. "That's it Lando, make me feel good." She moaned, head falling back slightly. If Daniel was still touching him, he was sure that he would have come, even with the smallest touch. Lando continued his relentless movements even as she closed her thighs around him. He groaned once more knowing it would push her over the edge. "Yes. Yes. Yes Lando, fuck." Her hands met the sheets in a desperate need to steady her self as white clouded her vision. Lando slowed the movement of his tongue, letting her ride out the orgasm. Her moans became quieter the lighter the pressure Lando applied. "So good for me." She whispered, looking down at him. Lando blushed at the praise as it sent a wave of pleasure through him. "Do you like when I tell you how good you are? How good you make me feel? Does it get you off?" She questioned, leaning forward with a smirk. Lando was almost struggling to get his words out, mind fuzzy as he tried to think of a way to say yes. He was quick to nod his head extraordinarily quick.

"I think that was a yes Darling." Daniel stated, pulling Lando back by his hair. "Take em off." He demanded, letting Lando catch his breath, Daniel was also aware of how overwhelming this could be for his friend. The brits hands came up quick, unbuttoning Daniel's jeans before pulling them down. Lando was slightly more worried about this, not just because he knew it would take him longer but because there was a high chance of him choking. Lando didn't know how to approach this as he'd never sucked dick before. Sure he had plenty of blowjobs but he didn't know how to give them. "You'll get praise when you do something worthy of it." Daniel said, pushing Lando's head closer to his cock.

"You need to spit a little." Lando felt her hands on his shoulders as she spoke. She was doing exactly what her boyfriend was doing before, guiding him teasingly, and Lando was both thankful and resentful of it. Although this time it was more of the former. "Wrap your hand around him, just below the head. Yeah that's it." She whispered, fingers tangling in his hair as she pushed his head so his lips were almost kissing the tip of Daniel cock. "Go on. You said you'd do everything I said." Lando was not ready for what ever punishment she was prepared to give him if he didn't comply. After coating Daniel's cock with his spit, Lando began to rub his thumb over the tip, teasing slightly. After a few seconds he let his hand form a fist and began stroking up and down slowly, never quite reaching the base. "I thought she said get us off with your mouth." Daniel stated, looking down at Lando with a smirk, who's nerves were rising by the second. "I'm not going to blow him for you. Start by licking the underside and take the tip into your mouth." She instructed as she slid her hand up his back, resting it between his shoulder blades. "So good. Be careful, don't take him too deep." She was quick to pull Lando back, making sure to teach him properly. "Breathe though your nose Baby. Start slow." She said, pushing his hair out of his face.

Lando did as she said, taking an inch at a time, mindful of not holding his breath. He began to bob his head at a slightly faster pace, taking another inch or two. "Good, so good for me Lando." Daniel muttered, watching his cock disappear into the brit's mouth. Lando moaned as he did before, sending vibrations through Daniel's cock. "Careful, watch your teeth." Lando just didn't know what to do, it was almost like the praise was overriding his brain. He wanted to make them feel good, he wanted to see them cum but he wanted to be praised, he wanted to be told what to do. He was getting close, feeling her hands on his skin wasn't helping. Her fingers were tracing over every divot and it was driving him insane, so much so that his trousers were becoming impossibly tight. Lando almost pulled off fully before swallowing around the tip. "Fuck Lando, sure you haven't done this before?" Daniel gasped, hand now resting on Lando's head. He pulled off with a pop, gasping for air. "Promise I haven't...Please, hurts so much." He groaned, chest rising and falling quickly. "Not yet, you need to make me cum first." The Australian said, hand coming down to his face, rubbing the spit off of Lando's jaw. "Be good and you get to cum." Lando was quick to bring his mouth back to Daniel's cock, sucking the best he could as he began to bob his head again. In the meantime, her hands left his back and came down to his front, unbuttoning his trousers. She squeezed him rather tightly before undoing the zip. Lando moaned feeling the limited release of his cock, Daniel threw his head back in pleasure as he felt the vibration. "Focus on the head Lando, he's very close." She demanded, kissing and biting his neck, leaving distinct marks. Daniel came down his throat quickly, taking Lando off guard, who pulled away, attempting to catch his breath again.

"You didn't have to swallow." Daniel stated, pulling Lando up from the ground. "I didn't have much choice." Lando whined, face contorted into disgust. "Don't get bratty, I'll leave you high and dry." He threatened looking towards his girlfriend with a large smile adorning his face. "I won't. Promise. Please, I need to cum so bad." He said, giving his best pleading eyes. Daniel's hands made contact with his skin before he pulled the remainder of Lando's clothes off. "Get on the bed, I want you against the headboard."

"And you, come here." Daniel pulled her in, kissing her passionately, letting his hands roam her skin once again, squeezing her tits and hips every now and then. He guided her to the end of the bed, pushing her down, watching her tits bounce as her back made contact with the mattress. Daniel was quick to climb on top of her, sliding his hands down her abdomen. She didn't realise how turned on she actual was. Did watching Lando give her boyfriend head really arouse her that much? "Fuck, you are so wet Darling." Evidently so. Daniel wanted to tease her slightly, even if they were both in control of Lando, he was still the one telling her what to do. He grasped her thigh with one hands, pushing her legs further apart. His fingers circled her clit slowly, waiting for her tell tale gasp of pleasure. "Oh please." Lando whined behind them, pulling on his hair slightly. "You're not allowed to touch yourself Lando. You have to wait." Daniel muttered, pushing a finger into her cunt slowly. "But it's not fair, I made you both cum." He said, sitting up straight, desperately wanting them to touch him. "Don't be a brat." She said in a pointed tone, turning her head towards the brit. Her demand was followed by a loud moan as Daniel pushed a second finger in. "She needs to be preped properly, too hard to fit you're dick in otherwise." She quickly became bashful and covered her face as Daniel began pumping and scissoring his fingers. His other hand rose from her leg and came to rest on her neck, squeezing lightly.

"That's enough Darling, I can see how much he needs you." Daniel said, smacking her ass as she made when to Lando. "Be good for me baby." She whispered, holding onto his shoulders as she straddled his lap. "Finally getting what you need." She lined his cock up with her cunt as she spoke. Lando's hands came to rest on her hips, squeezing lightly. "Don't touch." She chastised, taking him fully. Lando's cock was hitting places Daniel's usually didn't and it was intoxicating. The feeling of having complete control over someone was almost taking her over, she could finally understand why Daniel always preferred to be in charge, it was so thrilling. "Please, faster, need it so bad." Lando was already moaning uncontrollably, his eyes closed and head fallen back. She obliged and began bouncing faster, hands covering the bite marks she made earlier, making him wince loudly. As she began rocking her hips Daniel spoke, "Open your eyes Lando, you need to see." He did as he was instructed and was immediately met with her blissed out face and it pulled a low moan from his mouth. "Lando, look at me. Give me you're hand. That's it, You can touch her with your other, make her cum." His left hand was enveloped in Daniels, while his right came down to her clit, rubbing slightly harsh circles. Lando wanted to feel her cum around him, and this was the fastest way to do it. At the same time, Daniel was guiding his friend's hand back to his cock. "Come on, jerk me off. You must be really good at it now." Lando was stunned for a moment, brain struggling to comprehend. There was just so much happening, the overwhelming feeling if her cunt, the sound of her moans and Daniel's demands, it was all so thrilling to the brit. Lando made a fist around Daniel's cock once again, this time stroking faster than before and focused more on the head. The Australian was mindful of the state his friend was in and lead closer, grabbing his cheek softly and kissed his lips slowly, he felt every moan that wanted to leave Lando's mouth, and it jus riled him up even more.

"Fuck Lando, that's it, a bit harder." Every part of him was occupied yet he wanted them ton take more, he didn't want anything left. Daniel was edging closer the longer he watched the scene before him; His darling girlfriend ruining Lando. "I'm gonna cum, fuck keep going." At this point the only thing Lando could do was follow instructions Daniel painted their skin white as her moans grew louder, and Lando's grip harshened. "So good for me Lando. Fuck." He lengthened the last few syllables as he came down from his high. Daniel's hands made way to his girlfriend, resting on her back to keep her steady. Lando could feel her tightening around his as his hand on her clit was replaced with Daniel's, giving her what he knows she needed. "Take a break Lando, just enjoy the feeling of her cunt. You deserve it." Lando's hips bucked without warning meeting her bounces. "Oh Please, let me cum. Please, please please." Lando begged loudly, voice practically bouncing off the walls. Daniel began to guide her hips bringing Lando ever closer. "Cum Darling, I know you're close." The Australian whispered in her ear, giving her clit one last harsh smack before she began convulsing around Lando, no longer in control of her own body. Lando was quick to follow, cumming inside with a loud groan as his back arched slightly, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

They were both seeing stars as Daniel forced them both to ride out their high, he slowed the guiding of her body and began to kiss her neck softly. The only sounds in the room was their heavy breathing as she climbed off of Lando. They laid on either side of the brit, just enjoying each others presence. As she began to slip out of the haze, she let her hands trail over Lando's skin, draw shapes with feather light touches. His body was still twitching from the immense pleasure of her cunt. "Thank you...So good." He could barely from a sentence, still so fucked out. "You were so good for us, you deserved it." She whispered into his neck, shocked with the bruises she left.

They could tell just by the look on Lando's face that he was already on the verge of being overstimulated and decided that just one orgasm was enough for now, especially with the amount of cum still spilling out of her cunt. "When was the last time you even came?" Daniel questioned, rubbing his thumb over Lando's forehead, brushing away the messy curls. "I don't...Know." He rushed out between heavy breaths. "It's been months since I been with anyone, and a while since I jacked off. Maybe a few weeks, could be a month...I really don't know." He said, turning his head so it was buried in her neck. A blush began rising to his face when he realised what he admitted. "So you really needed someone else to get you off huh. Interesting." Daniel said with an almost teasing tone. "It's a good thing we could help you then." She whispered into his hair. "And I think, we'd be more than willing to help you again."

This took me way too long to write as I clearly went a little overboard in the build up. I hope you enjoyed.

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37sommz · 3 months ago

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❁ : l'amour de ma vie . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: fluff. ✼. wc: 6k.

as much as michaela adores her sister, courtney, it's hard to find joy in leaving the year behind when courtney's love life is coming home for the first time. the new year brings michaela old friends in a brand new package.

✼. warnings: general language warnings. people in love.

✼. notes: look at me being consistent. she's a writer (for real this time!!) this one was genuinely so fun to write. don't know if courtney & daniel are endgame but it might be a cute little side plot for future storylines. literally sat at my computer googling 'what do australians eat' before giving up :)

000.⠀⠀DECEMBER 31, 2020 › Gold Coast, Australia.

The Sommers' kitchen of their Gold Coast home, was aflutter with movement. Michaela's hands moved swiftly as they chopped vegetables for the New Years' Eve party. The room filled with the aroma of marinating meats and baking cookies, a contrast to the typically aroma-less existence Michaela lived in her Turin apartment. She felt a gentle warmth spread through her, a comfort she hadn't experienced in a long time. Her mother, Miriam, hummed a song Michaela couldn't recognize while stirring a pot of chili on the stove, occasionally adding a pinch of this or that from the spice rack.

Courtney, phone clutched tightly in hand, couldn't contain her excitement as she danced around the kitchen island. Her laughter was high-pitched and infectious, causing even the stern-faced Miriam to crack a smile. "Okay, okay," Courtney said, her thumbs typing away on the screen, "He's definitely on his way. Should be here any minute."

Michaela, her knife hovering over a cucumber, raised an eyebrow. "Who is this mystery boyfriend that's got you all giddy?" she teased.

Courtney giggled, her cheeks flushing. "You'll see," she sang, sidestepping her sister's question.

Michaela couldn't resist the bait. She set down the knife and leaned closer, curiosity piqued. "Is he from around here? Did you swipe right on some guy who got rich after high school?"

Courtney rolled her eyes dramatically, her thumbs still tapping out messages. "Don't be nosy Mick," she hummed, her smile still embedded upon her face.

Miriam, noticing the playful banter between her daughters, decided to join in on the bit. "She's been like this all week, Michaela," she said with a knowing smile, "It's like watching a teenager fall in love all over again."

Michaela's curiosity grew. Courtney had always been the more serious of the two of them, her Master's Degree in Chemistry from the University of Sydney was proof enough of the trait. So, the thought of her sister being swept off her feet was both thrilling and slightly concerning.

"You're not bringing an eshay home again are you, Courtney?" Ella asked, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth as she correctly used the Australian slang.

Ella Marshall had been Michaela’s closest friend since she was a teenager. The Brit was a classmate of Michaela’s when she first moved to England and they had stuck by each other’s side ever since. They didn’t get to see each other often with Michaela’s racing travels and Ella’s pursuit of her public relations degree, so the chance to share New Years’ together in Michaela’s childhood home was a welcome one.

Courtney rolled her eyes again, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth before flipping her younger sister’s friend off. Miriam scolded her daughter with a disapproving look, turning around just as Ella returned the gesture with one of her own.

The front door swung open and in stumbled their father, Tobias, with their uncle Travis and his wife Beena close behind, lugging a suitcase that was practically bursting at the seams. Quentin, their two-year-old son, was perched on Travis' shoulder, his eyes wide with excitement at the sight of all the new faces and smells.

"Look who decided to join us," Miriam said, her voice a mix of surprise and warmth as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and approached her brother-in-law and his wife. She kissed them each on the cheek before taking a suitcase from Travis' hand. "You're just in time to help set up."

Travis, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, looked over at his wife and son. "It's a miracle we made it," he said, setting Quentin down gently on the tiled floor. "This little rascal had us chasing him around Heathrow."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds like he's got the racing gene," she quipped, winking at her young cousin. Quentin giggled and ran towards her, his chubby legs moving at a surprisingly fast pace for his age. She scooped him up in her arms, feeling the weight of his pure joy, and spun him around. As they twirled, she felt the stress of her breakup and the looming season melt away.

Travis, his Australian accent thick despite years away in London, nodded in agreement. "He's a little terror, that one," he said with a proud smile. "But we wouldn't have it any other way." Beena, ever the perfectionist, picked away the lint from her husband's shirt as he pulled her into his side.

Michaela felt a pang of nostalgia, looking at the love between her uncle and his wife, and the easy conversation between her parents. Her thoughts drifted back to Olivier, and she couldn't help but feel the easy nostalgia turn to sadness. Their breakup had been mutual, but the ringing in of the New Year made it feel much more final. Hearing the boisterous laughter of her cousin as he bounced between adults, she pushed the feelings aside, focusing on the laughter and chaos that filled the home.

"Courtney, can you grab the drinks from the fridge?" Miriam called out, her eyes never leaving her cooking.

"On it," Courtney said, separating from her phone for the first time since Michaela had arrived home hours ago.

Michaela took a moment to study her sister. Courtney had always been beautiful, with their mother's sharp features and their father's warm hazel eyes, but there was something different about her. A lightness in her step and a twinkle in her eye.

"I don't know what's gotten into her," she whispered to Ella as she planted a kiss on Quentin’s cheek, "But she's gone a little crazy, hasn't she?" Ella could only hum in response as she found herself caught up in entertaining the toddler in her friend’s arms.

Quentin giggled and leaned into Michaela, wrapping his arms around her neck. His chubby fingers played with the ends of her hair as she spun him around again, the room becoming a blur of color and laughter. As they stopped, Courtney reappeared, her phone glued back to her hand. Quentin reached out for the older of his pair of cousins, Michaela swiftly handing him over to her smiling older sister.

"So, what's the secret?" Travis asked, his gaze bouncing between Courtney and her phone. "I haven't seen you be this excited for anything ever." Beena looked over at the chemist with her husband's words, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Michaela's eyes narrowed as she watched her sister's reaction. Courtney's cheeks flushed as she avoided eye contact with everyone, her giggle turning into a full-blown laugh. "You're all going to find out soon enough," she teased, her fingers poking at Quentin's full cheeks, receiving his loud giggles in return.

Travis glanced back at his wife, exasperated, as she chuckled in amusement. "Boyfriend?" She questioned out to Tobias who could only nod with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "She won't tell us who he is."

Michaela's curiosity was piqued even further. "Why not?" She asked, handing her father an iced tea before huffing loudly as she dropped down onto the couch next to him.

Courtney looked at her with a smug expression. "Because it's more fun this way," she replied, bouncing Quentin on her hip as she walked out of the kitchen, her phone chiming.

Michaela watched her go, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance. Her mind raced with the possibilities of who this mystery man could be. "It better not be anyone I know," she murmured to herself.

"What was that, sweetheart?" her father asked, turning to her with a smile.

Michaela's cheeks heated. "Nothing," she said, sipping her tea to cover her embarrassment.

She didn't want to admit her fear that Courtney might be dating someone from the paddock, someone who could complicate their lives even more than they already were. But she couldn't shake the feeling that her sister's more frequent "innocent" trips to see her sister's races were not so innocent after all. Courtney had never particularly enjoyed the smell of burning rubber or the high-speed crashes that Michaela seemed to be enamored with.

The sound of a car engine approaching the house echoed through the house and Courtney's eyes lit up brighter than they had been all day. "He's here!" she squealed, bouncing an overjoyed Quentin on her hip before bolting to the door.

Michaela felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves. She had no idea who Courtney could be bringing home, but she knew her sister's taste was much different from hers. Courtney took off towards the driveway with her cousin still resting on her hip. Beena began to call after the excited 26-year-old but was quickly soothed by her tired husband.

"Let them have their fun," Travis said, his eyes never leaving his wife as he spoke.

Michaela nodded, taking in the warmth of the room as the anticipation grew. The engine grew louder until it was right outside the door, and she couldn't help but lean over the couch to get a peek through the window. She couldn't quite make out the identity of the tall figure with a dark mop of hair as he opened the door of his sleek G-Wagon. Her heart swelled for a moment as she watched him scoop up Courtney in a loving embrace that calmed Michaela's nerves. He turned to introduce himself to the suddenly timid toddler nestled in Courtney's arms, reaching out to lift him from his girlfriend's hip. Michaela felt the tension melt away from her shoulders. It was clear this guy—whoever he was—intended to treat Courtney and her family with kindness.

As Courtney and the mystery man made their way back into the house, the chatter grew more intense. The man looked up, catching her eye, and a jolt of recognition shot through her. It was Daniel Ricciardo. Her eyes widened and she sat up straight, her heart racing as she took in the sight of her sister's new love interest. Daniel was a friend, sure, but also a rival on the track. They had always maintained a close friendship, but the sight of him with Courtney was surprising to say the least.

"No fucking way," Michaela whispered under her breath as Daniel's eyes locked onto hers, the surprise etched deep into her features. She had seen the Australian driver in many different lights—behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car, in the media spotlight, and even at a couple of awkward dinner parties their teams had thrown—but never as a potential brother-in-law.

“Is that Daniel?” Ella trailed off, her almond eyes tracing over the tall figure and his dark hair.

Her father and his brother shared in Michaela's surprise, their eyes widening in recognition. Daniel had been a household name for the Sommers family, as every Australian driver before him had also been. But seeing him here, in their home, holding Quentin in his arms and he exchanged a sustained kiss with Courtney, was something none of them had expected.

The three finally made their way to the front door, Courtney swinging it open with an air of carefree happiness in her actions. Michaela felt the air leave the room as Daniel stepped into the house, Quentin in his arms, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hi, everyone," Daniel said, his Australian accent thick and familiar. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on Michaela before he nodded a greeting in her direction. "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and all that jazz." He held Quentin easily in his right hip, his left hand balancing a six-pack of Tobias' favorite beer and a bouquet of Miriam's favorite flowers.

Miriam was the first to recover from the shock, a smile spreading across her face as she stepped forward to take the gifts. "Thank you, Daniel, you didn't have to," she said warmly, her eyes flickering between Courtney and Daniel, trying to gauge the depth of their relationship from his gesture.

"Couldn't resist," Daniel said, winking at Quentin, who was now playing with his dark curls hair.

Michaela's brain was racing. Courtney and Daniel? She had known that Daniel had a soft spot for her sister, but she had never seen it manifest into anything more than casual flirting and banter at the races. The sight of him holding Quentin and the ease with which he slipped into their family setting was surprisingly natural.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in," Travis said, his voice booming with a mix of surprise and good-natured teasing. Daniel let out a light-hearted chuckle as he carefully placed Quentin on the ground. He then warmly accepted the greeting, firmly clasping hands with Travis in a traditional masculine gesture. As they greeted each other, Travis gave a friendly pat on the back to the Renault driver.

"You alright, mate?" Daniel asked the day trader, a member of Michaela's family he had gotten to know quite well over two years.

Michaela felt a knot in her stomach as she watched Daniel interact with her family members. He greeted Beena, a respectful kiss to her cheek as he casually recalled the editorial she had been working on the last time he saw her in Silverstone. When he greeted Michaela's father with a firm handshake, Tobias brushed it off, drawing him into a quick hug instead.

"Welcome to the madhouse," he said, his gruffness belying the affection he had for the younger more.

Michaela felt a strange mix of emotions—shock, curiosity, and a hint of protectiveness for her sister swirling in her gut. Courtney had always been the brainy one, the one who never stepped a toe out of line. To see her with someone like Daniel, a man who lived life as if it were a continuous party, was unsettling. But as she watched the way his eyes lit up when he talked to her sister, she couldn't deny the genuine connection between them.

"So, you two are..." she began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words.

Courtney beamed, her eyes sparkling. "Dating," she said, her voice filled with a giddiness that was unusual for the typically composed woman. Michaela's eyes nearly twitched as she watched her sister's manicured fingers reach for her boyfriend. Courtney leaned into the Perth native with a lovesick expression on her face, one hand wrapped around his bicep and another resting proudly atop his chest.

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound was the sizzling of meat on the stove and the distant pop of fireworks. It was Miriam who broke the silence. "Well, it's about time you told us," she said, her voice filled with a motherly warmth. "We've been waiting for you to bring home someone special for ages."

Courtney blushed, looking down at the floor, while Daniel's grin grew wider. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind," he admitted, glancing down at Courtney who was now clutching his hand tightly. "But she's worth every second of it."

Michaela couldn't argue with that. Her sister looked happier than she had seen her in years. The way Courtney leaned into Daniel, the way he looked at her with such affection—it was clear this was more than just a casual fling.

"Well, come on in," Miriam said, breaking the silence with a warm smile. "Let's get you something to drink."

Michaela couldn't help but watch as Daniel stepped further into the house, his arm casually draped around Courtney's waist. She had seen him charm sponsors, journalists, and fans alike with his easy-going manner, but this was different. This was personal, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

As Miriam led the way back into the kitchen, the sound of her sandals clicking on the tiles, Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michaela. "Surprise," he mouthed with a wink.

Michaela felt her cheeks heat up as she nodded, still processing the revelation. Courtney had always been the more cautious of the two, and to see her so openly affectionate with someone was a shock. As they all moved back into the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel a bit like an outsider in her own home. The conversation between her family and Daniel grew more relaxed as they discussed the couple's relationship, leaving her feeling slightly left out.

"I'll be right back," she murmured to her father, who simply nodded with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, and Ella whose attention was planted firmly on the surprised couple. Michaela excused herself from the room, needing a moment to collect her thoughts, to make sense of the new dynamics that were unfolding.

Michaela stepped out onto the porch, the balmy Gold Coast evening air wrapping around her. The scent of barbeque and chlorine from the neighbor's pool mingled with the distant smell of the ocean, reminding her of childhood summers spent at this very house. She leaned against the railing, taking in deep breaths. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the rush of emotions running through her mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft thud of the kitchen door closing behind her. Daniel's footsteps approached and she felt his presence before she saw him. He leaned next to her, looking out over the well-manicured lawn that led to the beach.

"I know it's a surprise, Mick," he began, his tone sincere. "But I promise, I'm not here to mess with Courie's head or anything. I really like her." The casual nickname, one only Courtney's closest friends used, slipped out of Daniel's mouth with an ease that only increased the pounding of Michaela's head.

Michaela turned to face him, her expression a mask of skepticism. "You know what you're doing, right?" she asked, her voice a mix of protectiveness and curiosity. "Courie's not exactly the grid bunny type."

Daniel chuckled, leaning back against the railing. "I know, and that's what I like about her." He took a moment to survey the view, his eyes lingering on the horizon where the sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of a spectacular New Year's sunset. "She's got depth, you know? Makes me think twice about shit just so I don't embarrass her."

Michaela couldn't help but smile at that. Her sister had always had a way of making people want to be better. "So, how did this happen?" she asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Daniel shrugged, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "We just sort of clicked," he said, his eyes shifting towards Courtney as she chatted with Beena, Ella, and Miriam in the kitchen. "It started out as friends, you know, just catching up at races, flirting just to flirt. But she's got this... I don't know, this spark that just makes you want to be around her."

Michaela studied him, looking for any signs of deceit or insincerity, but she found none. At that moment, she knew that her sister had chosen well. Despite the initial shock, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. Maybe this was what Courtney needed—someone to challenge her—to bring out the side of her that was hidden under layers of academic seriousness and family responsibility.

"Well, don't let me keep you from her," she said, pushing off the railing. "You guys have a lot of catching up to do. I know she just got back from that big conference in Singapore." When Daniel failed to stifle a laugh, Michaela stopped to eye him skeptically.

"What?" She muttered, unamused.

"You're telling me you didn't know she was going to see me?" Daniel said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I picked her up from the airport, you know."

Michaela's eyes widened. "No, I had no idea," she replied, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. The revelation that their relationship was more serious than she had thought made her feel even more protective. "But I'm happy for her, for you both." She meant it. Despite her reservations, she knew Courtney was capable of making her own decisions.

Daniel's grin grew. "Thanks, Mick. I know we're both a bit... unexpected, but it works." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And just between us, I'm kind of relieved you're cool with this. It would really suck if you didn't approve when I've already told her I love her."

Michaela's eyes went wide, and she slapped his arm. "What?" she hissed, half-laughing. "Shut up, how long did it take you?"

Daniel nodded, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I might have jumped the gun a bit," he admitted, a sheepish look on his face. "But she's just..." he trailed off, his gaze drifting back to the kitchen where Courtney was now helping Miriam prep the table for the meal.

Michaela felt a twinge of something in her chest—envy, perhaps? She had always been so focused on her career that she had never allowed herself to truly open up to someone the way Courtney had with Daniel. The sight of her sister in love was both beautiful and unsettling. It was a reminder of what she had given up to pursue her dreams.

"She's everything to me," Daniel finished, his brown eyes glazing over for a moment as he watched Courtney approach the sliding door. The sight of him looking at her sister like that, with pure adoration, was something new to Michaela. She had only ever seen that look on her parents' faces, a look both heartwarming and disconcerting.

"Well, don't fuck it up," she said, her voice softer than she had intended.

Daniel chuckled, turning to look at her with a knowing smile. "I won't," he promised, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Your sister's got a killer disappointment face."

Michaela rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully. "That's not what I meant and you know it," she said, but her voice held no malice. The tension between them had dissipated and she found herself smiling back at him.

"I know," Daniel replied, his eyes still on Courtney. "But seriously, I'm going to make sure she's happy. She deserves it."

Michaela nodded, unable to argue with that. She knew that underneath Daniel's golden retriever persona was a genuine heart. He had been there for her countless times during the tough moments of her career, offering advice and a shoulder to lean on when things got too heavy.

They both turned as Courtney and Ella stepped out onto the porch, Courtney’s eyes searching for Daniel while Ella’s held concern for Michaela. Courtney looked beautiful, with her hair down and a flowing dress that caught the light just right. When she saw her boyfriend, she beamed, their hands involuntarily reaching for each other as if controlled by a magnetic force.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her gaze flitting between Daniel and her sister.

Michaela nodded. "Yeah, just catching up," she said, her voice lighter than it had been moments ago.

"Good," Courtney said, stepping closer to Daniel. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Michaela felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify—it wasn't jealousy, but a strange sense of displacement. She had always been the one who knew all the details of Courtney's life, the one her sister turned to for advice. Now, here was Daniel, fitting into their lives so seamlessly, with secrets of his own. She pushed the feeling aside, reminding herself that it was her sister's happiness that mattered.

"That's okay, hon," Daniel murmured, pulling Courtney back into his side with a shared smile.

When Ella silently pretended to gag behind their backs, Michaela rolled her eyes dramatically as they became lost in each other's gaze. "Okay," she huffed, pushing herself off the railing behind her. "We’ll go help Mum and leave you too alone."

Courtney giggled as Daniel wrapped an arm around her waist, his eyes never leaving hers. "Thanks," she called after her retreating sister, her voice filled with affectionate teasing. "We'll be back in a minute," she hummed, her eyes still focused on Daniel's.

Michaela's heart warmed at the lovesick tone in her older sister's voice though the moment was quickly shattered in typical Daniel fashion with a cheeky, "We're gonna make out for a little bit."

Michaela and her best friend groaned with a hint of genuine disgust as Courtney could only giggle in response. She turned to head back inside, shaking her head.

The sound of their laughter followed her into the kitchen, where Miriam and Beena were busy setting out plates and silverware. She felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her as she took in the scene—it had been so long since she had been part of their domestic routines. Despite the chaos of her career, the comfort of her family's warmth remained unchanged.

The evening rolled into night, and the party grew louder and more festive. The smell of BBQ filled the air as additional guests spilled onto the patio, their laughter and chatter blending with the distant pops of fireworks. Daniel had fit into the celebration so well that it was as if he had always been a part of their family gatherings. He had even charmed the toughest critic—Michaela's grandmother—who couldn't resist his charm and his genuine interest in her stories Michaela had heard about a million times.

Michaela found herself watching Courtney and Daniel from a distance, the way they interacted with each other, the way they shared a secret language of looks and smiles that she hadn't noticed before. It was clear that their relationship was more than just a fleeting attraction—there was a bond between them, a quiet strength that seemed to anchor them amidst the whirlwind of their lives. Daniel seemed to anticipate Courtney's next move throughout the night, casually handing her a napkin or a salt shaker before she could ask for it with a soft peck to her forehead and a whisper of an inside joke.

The party was in full swing, and the family had moved into the living room to watch the countdown on the television. Quentin, now sleeping soundly in Courtney's arms, had been the life of the party, dancing to the music and playing with the confetti that littered the floor. As the clock struck midnight, everyone shouted their goodbyes to 2020 and welcomed the New Year with a chorus of cheers and the popping of champagne bottles. The sound of glasses clinking and kisses on cheeks filled the air.

Michaela couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness as she watched her sister and Daniel share a passionate kiss in the corner, their love on full display. She had never felt like this before, not even when Olivier had been so distant when they were together. Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"You okay?" Ella’s voice was a soft rumble in her ear. She turned to find her friend’s concerned eyes searching hers.

Michaela forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired," she said, taking a sip of her champagne. Ella had become friends with Michaela in a similar fashion. An introvert lost in her thoughts as she sat alone before an extrovert forced her to open herself up, Michaela knew she could see right through her facade.

"You know, you're not alone, right?" she said, her hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "You don't need to be with that arsewipe to be loved. We're all here for you."

Michaela nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I know," she replied, her voice thick with unshed emotion. "It's just... different now. Everything's changing."

Ella squeezed her shoulder. "Change isn't always all bad, Mick," she said, her own eyes misting over with emotion. "Look at you—Miss McLaren. You've come a long way from giving those boys night terrors in your go-kart."

Michaela chuckled, the memory bringing warmth to her chest. "Yeah," she said, looking around at her family, "But it's weird, you know? Courie's always had her head in books and now she's got Daniel Ricciardo whispering shitty jokes in her ear."

Ella laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Well, Daniel’s not the worst person in the world for Courtney to be dating," she said, her eyes lingering on the couple across the room. "Remember when your Mum's sister started dating that comedian after her divorce?"

Michaela snorted, the memory of her aunt's unexpected romance bringing a smile to her face. "Yeah, I didn’t even know she could smile," she said, her gaze drifting back to her sister and Daniel.

As the party wound down and guests began to say their goodbyes, the family gathered around the kitchen table, the warm light from the pendant lamp casting a glow over their tired but happy faces. Courtney, now yawning, shifted Quentin in her arms, his body rigid with sleep.

"I can't believe we're already into 2021," Courtney said, her voice filled with wonder. "Feels like just yesterday we were all freaking out about Y2K."

Michaela's father scoffed in disbelief at Courtney's misguided reminiscing. "You were five years old, what do you remember about Y2K?"

Courtney shot him a playful glare. "I remember enough to know it was a big deal, Dad," she slurred, and the room was filled with laughter.

Michaela watched the exchange with a smile, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation. Her own future looked so different now—both personally and professionally. She had a new team, new challenges, and now, a new dynamic in her family. As the night grew quieter and the last guests trickled out, she found herself sitting on the porch with Daniel, Courtney, and Ella, the warm breeze carrying the faint scent of fireworks and the distant murmur of the ocean.

"So," Ella began, her voice a bit tipsy from the champagne, "What's the deal with you two? How long have you been keeping this a secret?"

Courtney's cheeks turned a rosy shade as she met her sister's gaze. "August?" She hummed, turning to Daniel for confirmation. He nodded with a knowing smile. "Yeah, since Barcelona, actually."

Michaela's eyes widened. "Barcelona?" She repeated, trying to recall the race weekend. It had been a pretty good one for her, finishing 6th after having qualified 11th. "How did I miss that?"

Courtney and Daniel shared a knowing smile. "It was the weekend you had that big meeting with Ferrari," Courtney said.

Michaela nodded as she remembered that initial meeting with Mattia Binotto. The one where he reassured her that Ferrari was keeping their options open for 2021. The meeting before he completely shattered all her dreams just two months later in Imola.

"I had a layover in Spain and just... decided to surprise him."

Michaela couldn't help but chuckle at the image of her sister, the meticulous planner, pulling off a spontaneous rendezvous. "So, what happened?" she questioned, genuinely curious.

"Well," Daniel began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Your sister showed up at my hotel room with nothing but a bottle of wine and a goofy grin."

Michaela playfully smacked him on the arm. "That's enough," she protested, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. Courtney rolled her eyes.

"You know what we mean," Ella said, poking the older of the sisters in the side. "How did it all start?"

Daniel leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "It's hard to tell," he admitted. "We've known each other for a while, obviously. But it was just... one of those moments where everything makes sense."

Michaela nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. Her own career had been built on moments like that—instances of clarity and purpose that had propelled her to where she was today. "So, what's the plan now?" she asked, looking at the couple.

"Well, I finally convinced her to take one of my Renault polos," Daniel said, his voice filled with contentment. "But I'm hoping she'll join me on the European leg of the season."

Courtney blushed even more deeply, and Michaela felt a twinge of happiness for them. Despite her initial surprise, she couldn't deny that they made a good pair—both strong-willed, but with a tenderness that seemed to bring out the best in each other.

"You guys are going to be a nightmare at the races," Michaela teased, her voice filled with affection. "Everyone's going to know."

Courtney looked at Daniel, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe that's the plan," she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

Ella groaned dramatically. "Please tell me you two won't be wearing matching outfits," she said, her tone half-joking, half-horrified.

"Oh, you know it," Courtney quipped, her voice filled with playful spite. "It's going to be a sea of that god-awful yellow and black." Michaela laughed, shaking her head.

"And I’ll have that atrocious papaya car to look at," Ella muttered jokingly, taking another sip of her drink.

The conversation grew more comfortable, the three of them discussing their upcoming travels and the excitement of the new season. Despite her initial skepticism, Daniel had managed to charm his way into her good graces, and she found herself warming to the idea of him being a part of her family's life.

As the night grew late and the party wound down, Daniel and Courtney eventually disappeared upstairs, leaving Michaela to sit on the porch swing with her best friend and her mother, the three of them lost in thought as they watched the last few fireworks light up the night sky. Miriam reached over to grab her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm happy she chose him," Miriam said, her gaze still on the distant explosions of color. "He's a good man. And he makes her happy."

Ella nodded, the swing creaking gently beneath them. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice a little thick. "They do seem good together."

Miriam leaned closer, her eyes searching her daughter's face. "And what about you, darling? How are you holding up after everything with Olivier?"

Michaela took a deep breath, the cool night air brushing against her cheeks. "I'm okay, Mum," she said, her voice steady. "It's been a tough few months, but I've got a great season ahead of me with McLaren. That's all I need to focus on."

Miriam studied her for a moment before nodding. "You know, sweetheart, love isn't just about the big moments," she said softly. "It's about finding someone who supports you in your dreams and makes you happy in the quiet moments too."

Michaela's eyes searched her mother's, finding a well of wisdom that she had missed. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... different without him, that's all."

Miriam leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "You're stronger than you think," she assured her. "You've come so far, and I know you'll find someone who loves you just as fiercely as you deserve."

Michaela swallowed the lump in her throat. She squeezed her mother's hand and felt the warm embrace of her best friend’s arms wrap around her, a rush of love and gratitude. "Thank you, guys," she said, her voice small. "I just hope I don't screw it up when I do."

Miriam tilted her head, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "You won't," she said firmly. "You're a Sandile. We don't screw up love, we just take our time to find it." Michaela smiled at her mother's use of her maiden name.

The porch light cast a warm glow over the three women, creating a warm bubble as the rest of the house grew quiet. "I know it's hard to imagine now, but love has a way of finding you when you least expect it," Miriam continued. "Look at Travis and Beena. They've been through hell and back, and they're still madly in love."

Michaela nodded, taking a moment to reflect on her mother's words. The thought of finding someone who truly understood her, and who could handle the demands of her career without feeling overshadowed or left behind, was something she hadn't allowed herself to dream about for a long time. But watching Courtney with Daniel had sparked a hope within her, a hope that maybe, there was room for love in her fast-paced world.

❁ :⠀taglist.⠀feel free to send in an ask/comment to join the taglist <3

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@sunfairyy @lilypat

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whoiwanttoday · 14 days ago

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I hope everyone had a Merry Wednesday. I just got home a little bit ago after a very long drive due to what I guess is dreaded post Wednesday traffic. I know for many parts of the world today is Boxing Day so I wish those of you who celebrate a good boxing day. I usually try to impart some basic advice here but the truth is you guys do this every year, why should I need to tell you not to stand flat footed and always keep your hands up. If you don't know now it's too late. If you're struggling just try to get a match up against your grandma, she can't possibly hit that hard and statistically she's most likely to have voted for Brexit or Rob Ford or whatever so on some level she has it coming. It's a weird tradition but I get it, if there was a separate Christmas for servants because servants aren't allowed to celebrate Christmas the same day as rich people I'd also be filled with a desire to punch someone in the face. My country just left but I guess we all deal with that bullshit in our own way. All of that said, here is some Victoria Justice who has, as far as I know, no actual association with boxing day other than one of the first things I ever saw of her was promo pictures of her ready to box because Young Victoria Justice was something Nickelodeon was trying very, very hard to make happen so she was appearing on some other show to fight someone. I think. It's been a long time and I was never the target audience, just in the early days of tumblr plenty of the sort of target audience (sort of in the sense that they were younger but not entirely in that they were queer girls who were still working on finding their queerness) really wanted me to watch Victorious and post people from it. Which I did on all counts. The show was not for me because I was too old (though I was shocked at just how many sex jokes there were for a show about high schoolers) but I will admit many of the stars were attractive. Anyway, that was a lifetime ago and all that but here is some Victoria Justice for you because all December she has shown up wearing nice stuff and I have been ignoring her and today I saw her in a Christmasy black thing and I felt bad that I ignored her in a lead up to Christmas. Bear with me, this is because my family's dog is hurt pretty badly and she is an all black mutt except for a white triangle on her chest and a little white near her paws and she looked so sad all weekend and I felt so bad every time I walked out of the room because she couldn't follow and wanted to and watching her try to get up and then give up and look very sad made me rush back again and again so she wouldn't feel ignored just cause I got some water. Anyway, this is maybe not the most complimentary thing I have ever posted but I think that very nice black and white outfit might be triggering a Pavlovian response where I feel bad like I am ignoring Victoria Justice. Which is how this is about boxing day, because that's a very condescending and paternalistic sentiment, just like the Brits and Boxing Day. I did it. Happy Boxing Day. Today I want to fuck Victoria Justice.

#Victoria Justice #brunette #Actress #whoiwanttofucktoday

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killerkatsmeow · 5 months ago

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Headcanon: Bruce adopting a civilian teenage girl.

I always thought she’d have ties to Bruce one way or another - either through her single-parent household (her mom works for him) or she has an internship at Wayne Enterprises. In the case of an internship, she’s eager to work and learn but still manages to keep things young and fun.

Loves Alfred because wow, its her first time meeting a Brit and what kind of name is Pennyworth? I personally feel like she'd be closest to Alfred, she's most comfortable with him. Say she gets arrested/stuck at GCPD...she is NOT calling Bruce for help. She's calling Alfred and begging him to come get her and to not tell Bruce. She wakes up early to help Alfred in the kitchen, she's following him around and pestering him with questions. As an inside joke, she's bringing him a penny and some other thoughtful gift for his birthday. Because...Pennyworth.

Oh, she REFUSES to go to Gotham Academy, she is a P.S. 181 girl through and through. Why would she choose to be around those stuffy, asshole, rich kids anyway? She has all she needs at her public school: all of her friends are there, she's Cheer/Dance Capitan, she receives every party invite known to man...what could Gotham Academy possibly give her besides a complex and a reason to see a psychotherapist? Yeah, no fucking thanks. No fucking way.

The Wayne Manor... She remembers the drive up there and how she was...floored by how nice and vintage and regal and almost scary the place looked. So expensive, how could anyone feel like it was home. She's greeted outside by Bruce and Damian - Bruce wears a smile, Damian is indifferent. She is lost for words pretty often - the tall ceilings, the intimidating portraits...it's all so fancy and a far cry from the 2 bedroom apartment she shared with her mother.

Dinner that night was grand and boasted many guests - family and close friends, Bruce said. She meets Dick, he's charming, polite, and sinewy. Everyone is Gotham knows him, his tragic backstory. Then there's Barbara: she's kind, seems smart but maybe it's the glasses, and uses elbow crutches. Then there's Duke - he seems nervous but is happy to make her acquaintance. Tim has dark under eye circle, yawns a bit, but introduces himself and listens to her patiently. There's another girl who is the most excited at the table to meet her - her name is Stephanie. She smiles, shakes her hand at the speed of a humming bird, and asks a million questions. She only stops when Cass places a hand on her shoulder, she doesn't speak much (a fact Damian explains beforehand) but shakes her hand no less.

It's not until the following week that she meets Jason. She's lounging by the pool, magazine in hand as music plays from her bluetooth speaker when she sees him. He's flanked by the boys as they walk towards the basketball court, their competitive chatter fills the air. He's big - muscular and the tallest of the bunch. He spares a glance over his shoulder and she feels like her heart just stopped. He's beautiful. His eyes are narrowed and kinda intimidating, a shiny blue-green color. He doesn't look back again as they head to the court but just the one glance was enough for her.

Her friends at school know about Jason, they wanna see him for themselves. She begs and begs Bruce to allow her to have a sleepover with her 2 closest friends and after some convincing, he agrees. The girls spend most of the night swimming, baking cookies once Alfred retires from the kitchen, singing karaoke in her generously sized room. The highlight of the night comes when Jason come riding in on his motorcycle - they watch from the window as he dismounts. Strong hands pull his helmet off his head, broad sexy shoulder flex as he stows it away. The girls giggle and coo, mouths drop as they watch the big man walk towards the door. They're safe looking at him from this window they think, flirty compliments can't reach his ears from where they stood but suddenly he looks up, making full eye contact with her again. The girls drop down out of sight, gasping and giggling because of course, they'd get caught ogling.

The girls make comments about her having a "rich dad" when she comes to school with nicer shoes, an expensive backpack, etc. She hates it. "Bruce is not my father." She'll roll her eyes. Her friends ask if he'll adopt her, a topic she'd rather not broach. "No way, how can I marry Jason if we're related?" It's a joke she only...somewhat means and it makes her friends laugh and it practically erases the idea of her getting adopted from the conversation.

She has no clue about the Batfam - the whole vigilante thing. She's clueless but it's hard to believe. She makes these comments that has the fam clenching their holes in shock/fear/anticipation. "It's not like Batman's gonna save me" when she gets herself into a jam or is in need of intervention with schoolwork she cares none for. "Aww, you two are like Batman and Robin." Mockingly when the boys team up for a lame ass burn or zinger against her. "Red Hood is hotter than Nightwing." Overheard as she walks around the house, gabbing to her friends. There's been some close calls like her walking past the secret entrance to the cave right when Bruce, Damian, or Alfred step in or out of it. She doesn't understand the silence her jokes are met with sometimes but she just assumes money makes you a bit boring and stuffy. Just look at Damian.

She loves to read and she spends hours in the library though if Damian is in there, she avoids the place. One day, she has a coffee in hand and she's excited to sit on the plush chaise by the ladder and read that first edition Virginia Woolf she found. She opens the French doors, her feet moving forward before she stops in her tracks. There's Damian, legs crossed with a book splayed in his lap. She sighs, groaning inwardly because Virginia will have to wait. She turns to leave when Damian calls out to her. "You don't have to go." His voice still sounds so condescending but his face, when she turns to see him, his face holds none of that. He seems nice and honest. "You're not the most...welcoming presence in the house." She says, not moving from her spot. Damian sighs, closing his book and rising from his seat on a the davenport. "I know. But..." He doesn't finish the sentence, only waves around the library before walking past her. That was the start of a fairly interesting friendship for the two of them.

She takes the time to learn some ASL because she's under the impression that Cass is deaf or mute. She engages with Cass as much as she can, showing off the new words and phrases she's learned. She gets to be fairly good at it that she even considers taking the interpreter certification exam. So, you can imagine her surprise when, while on a hike, Cass responds to her signing with a full-fledged sentence. Then another one. And another one. Surprise isn't the word, neither is shock. But once she settles into the truth, the two break out into a fit of laughter.

Sneaking out of Wayne Manor is a bitch but she loves to do it! Sometimes she's grounded - the why is ever-changing - and sometimes, she knows Bruce and Alfred would hate her late night partying. She's opening her window and shimmying down a trellis as her friends wait outside of the manor gate off to the side and just out of sight. She hates hopping the gate, her hands are too precious for the scraping so for a few days she's been pushing a ladder closer and closer to the sweet spot of the gate. Sometimes she comes back to Bruce outside the front door in a robe with knitted brows and a set jaw, other times it's a silent treatment a t breakfast. She feels guilty sometimes, but mostly only when's he's caught. She wonders how they know, tells her friends there has to be a security camera. If only she knew.

#bruce wayne #batfam #batman #batfam headcanons #bruce wayne headcanon #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #tim drake #damian wayne #dc comics #batfam headcanon #batfam hc #batfamily #barbara gordon

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buff-electra-truther · 21 days ago

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When you actually Americanize Starlight Express, Electra suddenly becomes a Reaganite boogeyman of Amtrak as a “welfare queen”- A “Dark Side of the (T)Rainbow” esque fascinating synchronicity

(Yes, that term is racially loaded and I am using it very deliberately for reasons to be explained later.)

MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: I was way too wishy washy on this in the original version of the post (which got picked up by some bigger names and spread around) so I want to make this very clear. This is all a giant “Immer Pünktlich!” situation where the original creators could have never foreseen how it comes off wildly different in another country. Most of the traits discussed here were not present in the workshop version of the character. They just arose later on mainly through pure coincidence. I am VERY aware of Electra’s original intent and origins. I would be astounded if Brits in the 80s knew this much about the long-suffering US passenger rail network, even most Americans today don’t know if they don’t actually ride these trains or live in the northeast. Starlight’s central themes of bootstrapping and “being under your own control” are associated with conservatives like Thatcher and Reagan, but that’s basically it in terms of actually intended elements. This is a wild reinterpretation of things by someone with a wildly different viewpoint than the original creatives.

People often make fun of how Electra makes such a big deal of being electric and futuristic when electric trains are just kind of the norm in most countries with substantial rail networks. But when you take into account that toothpaste-era Electra is considerably Amtrak-coded and look into the politics and railroad history of what they’d be like irl…. Their framing goes from kind of stupid to pointedly malicious in oddly specific ways.

You know what else WAS the norm in the US (and still is in much of Europe) until Reagan started treating it as a radical freak? The big bad “liberal agenda” of the government actually funding things like social programs and infrastructure, including railroads. And you know what kind of trains are almost completely dependent on that kind of government support? Electric ones. EVERY SINGLE REPLICA NATIONAL represents a country that (at least circa the 80s) had a nationalized rail network that actually invested in electrification. It’s not impossible for private companies to fully fund themselves but very hard, especially now.

Who are “electric train politics” heavily associated with in the US? Black people, LGBT people, damn near every minority, which coincidentally, Electra regularly was early on.

You may not realize this if you’re from elsewhere, but the US has very, very little rail electrification vs other rich countries. You have some commuter rail and local transit systems in a number of cities, the Northeast Corridor and Keystone Corridor, and that’s…. about it. Intercity service between a line of the big northeastern cities and that’s it. The rest is all diesel domain irl. Behold the wikipedia page for electrified lines in the US and see just how many are GONE. (Passenger service is also absolutely threadbare if not nonexistant in most of the non-electric network and often offensively slow, not even local road speed. But that’s a whole separate can of worms)

Why is this? Heavy simplification, but the government subsidized highways and airports instead after WWII and that along with antiquated laws and losing mail service made passenger rail a massive money pit for most the railroads forced to continue it. Instead of passenger rail service and infrastructure improving like basically all the other Nationals’ countries, routes dropped like flies and many railroads sank into financial ruin until Penn Central’s collapse in the late 60s. That’s when the government finally stepped in and took over passenger services as Amtrak. Electrification infrastructure and equipment was dated then due to years of desperate finances, and while there was active rail investment in the 70s to improve, Reagan’s administration was hostile to it and it’s been an on and off uphill battle since to get enough funding to keep things going, let alone improve or expand. Literally left decades behind by the system. The 2013 tour is the most accurate version of Electra as a realistic reflection of electric passenger rail in the US- a guy who’s been at it since the 80s that still looks like a decades-old vision of the future in a notably cheap, torn up, worn out costume. Actually the AEM-7 locomotives used then date to 1978, even older than that.

“Electra must be rich” sounds like something a stingy conservative politician would say about Amtrak needing billions of dollars (to just be barely functional due to years of neglect). Yes, they were intended to be a celebrity for separate reasons early on, but the massive contrast between being shown as “rich” but representing an infamously NOT rich rail system really feels like something a nasty conservative politician would try as a smear campaign in another timeline. Oooo handouts bad. Oooo you must be so extravagant if you need that much. You “welfare queen” sucking government funds to blow on exotic pets and glitter and other frivolities. You “strapping young buck buying T-bone steaks with food stamps”. Those are Reagan’s quotes, not mine, I hate even typing them out but god, can it be more obvious? Painting those who need government assistance (usually coded as black) as extravagant has been weaponized to destroy social programs and further inequality. The gap between Electra and reality always felt kind of jarring for me, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized how much uglier the implications were.

“Or unreliable”- electric trains have so few moving parts they tend to be notably reliable in terms of the physical locomotive/multi unit*. A lot of their issues are actually due to structural failures with powerlines, and this is ESPECIALLY true with the NEC and other ooold electric commuter lines in the US. This has also limited the maximum speed of trains at times. See video below for more on this, also explains a lot of the stuff I’ve mentioned earlier. Huh. Gee whiz. Someone held back and suffering due to structural problems being blamed as personal failing. What DOES that sound like?

youtube

*technically CC 40104 used as Electra’s helmet actually was an unreliable model because it was a weird complicated niche thing with four voltages for a uniquely European situation but that’s downright cherry picking. The other Nez Casse engines with that styling actually were reasonably reliable and realistic Amtrak Electra from the 80s to 2018 would be an AEM-7 (common fanon choice too) that was also fine.

When you think about it, the likes of “only you have the power within you” and “needn’t beg the world to turn around and help you” might be the most offensive things you could say specifically to an electric train in the US besides“lol they shoulda replaced your line with even moar I-95 lanes”

Anyways, isn’t it funny how people conveniently ignore how steam preservation was actually very popular (compared to almost any other obsolete tech) in the 80s and had been since at least the 60s? You had steam engines pulling the 1976 Freedom Train. A small, relatively “young”, mechanically functional steam engine would have tourist railroads FIGHTING over them back then. That was the era when the majority of the steam engines left in Barry Scrapyard were scooped up and preserved, Crown Metal Company was making new build ones for amusement parks, and some tourist railroads even bought new builds from the last company in China building steam engines for regular service.

But you know what did go out of favor in the late 30s and was treated as downright laughable to go back to after the 50s, just like the regular revenue use of steam locos in the US?

The kind of small-government conservatism Reagan preached. And the steam engines in the show promote. Barry Goldwater was openly mocked for it in the mid-60s. It was thought genuinely unthinkable to go back to.

So, those laughably historically inaccurate depictions of electric and steam engines. Isn’t it uncanny how near-perfectly those unrealistic traits of them align with other things?

Also a funny aside: probably 90% of those new build Crown Metal steam engines were dressed up in western themes. Literally cowboy actors, just like Reagan was.

(I’ve got an extended unhinged analysis of Starlight accidentally resembling the rise of Reaganism and it unexpectedly spreading world over and destroying everyone else’s railroads too. That’s still in progress though. But these two aspects are so freakishly dead-on I really needed to get them out.)

#stex electra #stex #starlight express #yeah this’ll piss people off but i’m even surprised by how much historical justification this angle has #the sad story of american electrified rail really should be known more than it is. It’s a real cautionary tale #it’s telling that i’ve seen multiple big boys and centennials but i don’t think i’ve ever seen a GG1 OC #(besides my own that I haven’t actually posted publicly)

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homunculus-argument · 1 year ago

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The thing about the back and forth between people from the US going "lmao look at how shitty this thing in the UK is" and brits immediately bringing up violent gun deaths and US school shootings is that despite of it being boringly repetitive and predictable, it feels like an alcoholic bickering with someone with an active meth habit.

"Look at this guy passed out in a wheelbarrow lol."

"Rich coming from the fellow who smokes meth."

"How dare you bring my meth habit into this, that was really tasteless and insensitive of you."

Like how about both of you get your shit together first.

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finkinthisfrew · 1 year ago

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I have a request for a smaller story like blurb. Smutty jealous Matty is always hot lol

Yessss!! I looooove smutty jealous Matty! Here you go- hope this is up your alley :)

cw: 18+ in public kinda just a little

I love the thought of Matty taking you to some event, like the Grammy’s or the Brit Awards. Matty gets stuck in conversation with someone. You’re stood to the side, hands clasped politely as you try to follow along with whatever they’re talking about, your attention eventually drifting to the two children a few tables away from you. They’re dancing and giggling, and it’s an adorable sight to see. Several people have already turned to watch. “I reckon they’re paid actors, don’t you?” You hear come from behind you. You turn, coming face to face with the friendly face of a handsome man, his smile warm and genuine. “Definitely- far too cute to be authentic,” you say with a grin, grateful for some lighthearted conversation after several hours of introductions and forced pleasantry. You stand together, cracking a few more paid actor jokes as you watch the children in adoration, their laughter and joy so genuine it hurts your heart.

Only a few minutes into chatting, a man in coattails breaks you up, ushering everyone to their seats before the lights dim, the awards ceremony about to start. You wave farewell to your new friend and he winks at you, making you blush from shock right as you feel a familiar warmth wrapping itself around your waist. “If I got a pound for every man that fucked you with his eyes tonight, I’d be filthy rich,” Matty says teasingly, pressing a kiss into your cheek as he stares daggers into the back of the handsome man who sat down just a few tables away from yours. “You’re insane, Matty. We were talking about children,” you laugh defensively, the red of your cheeks deepening. “I have no doubt in my mind he was imagining them as your own children. Names picked out and everything,” Matty says with a cheeky grin as he pulls your chair out for you to sit in. His voice is light-hearted, but you can hear the tone of huffiness underneath- he’s jealous. “Matty, the woman you were just talking to was flirting with you in FRONT of me,” you say pointedly as you sit down. “Oh, she’s nightmare,” he shudders before joining you in the seat next to you, “but that man seemed far from a nightmare with that dashing smile of his. Such a handsome boy he was. Was that a wink I caught?” Matty’s teasing, but you don’t take any of it personally. In fact, you kind of enjoy it. Matty always gets territorial when he’s jealous.

“He winked? I didn’t notice,” you lie. Matty’s eyebrows raise, clocking your smug grin and avoidant eyes as you sip your champagne. You’re sat a couple feet away from Matty, the chairs evenly spaced around the round table, but you see Matty lean towards you, and all of a sudden your centre of gravity shifts unexpectedly, your chair yanked below you. Suddenly your thigh is touching his thigh, and his breath is hot in your ear. “Oh you didn’t, did you?” he says, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver through you. But it’s not a shiver of fear. It’s a shiver of anticipation, because you love this game, and he loves it even more. “No,” you say bluntly, “But I can ask. Would you like me to go over and ask him if he was flirting with me?” You lean towards Matty as you speak, your low neckline leaving little to the imagination- even less the more you lean towards him. You watch his eyes, drooping with lust, flit down to your chest, back up to your eyes, down to your lips, and repeat. You can feel yourself growing wet from the candor of his gaze. He leans back to your ear, his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck as he speaks quietly. “Needn’t I remind you that you are mine. And I don’t like to share. Have you forgotten that, darling?” You feel his hand on your lap find the high slit of your dress. His fingers slip under the fabric stroking your now buzzing skin, his touch sending a swarm of butterflies down south. But his fingers don’t stop. They’re tickling the inside of your thigh as he innocently kisses your cheek- the entire room unaware of what’s happening behind the tablecloth below you. Matty leans in closer, draping his arm casually around your chair, his fingers lazily trailing along your shoulder. “You have trouble remembering that, don’t you baby?” He whispers. You turn to look at him, but he’s smiling innocently at you- beaming, in fact. Anyone looking would think ‘Oh, what a sweet couple, so young and in love, gazing into each other's eyes!’. Meanwhile, Matty’s hand only travels higher up the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to where you're most desperate for his touch. You turn to look at the person who’s stepped on stage, trying to look as composed as Matty, too aware of how gloriously you and your red cheeks were failing. “I don’t like you forgetting that,” Matty growls in your ear. You can feel the heat from his fingers- they can’t be more than a couple millimetres away from the now soaking-wet fabric of your panties. “How can we make sure you never forget that? Any ideas, darling?” He whispers sweetly. Your eyes are glued to the host giving their introductory speech on stage, but all you can see is Matty, shirtless, muscles gleaming with sweat, and his eyes, dark beneath the curtain of thick curls, piercing through you with lust. “Maybe I should marry you so everyone knows you belong to me,” he says quietly, watching your chest cave with desire. You both were desperate for marriage, only waiting for a full year of dating to hit so you wouldn’t freak out your friends and family. “Or maybe I should fuck it into you,” he breathes. His fingers finally make contact with your panties and you stifle your gasp, biting down on your lip. You can feel Matty’s eyes on your face just as clearly as you can feel his finger running up your slit, just enough pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure through your body, but not enough to feel satisfied. “Do you think if I fuck it into you hard enough,” he starts quietly, “enough that you can’t walk for, I don’t know, let’s say… 2 weeks? Maybe then you won’t forget?” His voice sounds innocent, but his actions are downright devilish. His finger stops on your clit and you freeze. He presses down and you stop breathing. Slowly, he begins to rub circles through the fabric. “I’ll make you cum so hard, I won’t let you stop cumming. You’ll cum so hard, you’ll forget your own name. The only one you’ll know is mine, because you’ll be screaming it so loud. Maybe then you’ll remember it while talking to these drooling dogs.”

Suddenly, the room erupts in applause, and Matty’s hand is gone. You realize you’re practically hunched over, panting in desperation. You straighten your back, shooting Matty a poisonous glare as you join in on the applause, but he’s looking up at the stage, smiling politely as he claps for the new speaker, about to announce the first award of the evening. As the applause dies down, Matty picks up his glass of wine, taking a small sip before wrapping his arm back around you, your clit now furiously starved for attention. You take your champagne flute and down the entire glass, uncertain how you’re going to get through the whole night. With Matty now politely listening to the new speaker, you let your eyes wander away from the stage and down to your laps, both covered by the tablecloth. You casually set down your champagne flute on the table, then as if to place your hand on Matty’s lap, you push back the tablecloth slightly- just enough to reveal the straining erection pushing against the pants of Matty’s suit. You look up to see Matty smiling at you, a twinkle in his eye. He places his wine back down before leaning into your ear, whispering just loud enough so only you can hear. “Don’t worry darling, intermission is only an hour away. I’ll fuck you nice and good in the hall closet then.” You feel his hand sneak its way back between your thighs and you sigh in frustration before leaning across the table for the Champagne bucket. You ignore Matty’s smile as you pour yourself a full glass, down it, then pour yourself a second, leaning back in your chair before sighing again. It was going to be a very long hour.

#lovers #at their very best #love #matty the 1975 #bfiafl #tender #the 1975 #fanfiction #fanfic #matty healy #matty #matty 1975 #matty healy smut #matty x reader #the 1975 fanfic #smut #fic prompt #brit awards #grammys

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 4 months ago

Note

When Valentine Low broke the news of M bullying the Palace staffs, she immediately barked back saying this is a smear campaign against her. Now the Hollywood Reporter asked for their comments before they release their article and she had no comments on it.

So she's only brave enough to demean and thrash the UK staffs? Doesn't dare to say anything against their American staffs huh? Why does she do that RTA?

She can pass off bullying the Brits as xenophobia (they hate her because she’s a foreigner) and cultural differences. Remember, Meghan’s whole clapback to the British bullying allegations is that she’s a go-getter American and that work ethic contrasts with British work culture*. She can get away with that in the UK because she’s hedging her bets that the majority of people have never worked with Americans or know Americans personally and thus think she’s telling the truth.

*But even that’s not a solid defense for her. I’m reminded of a story - it’s either from Low or Bower, but maybe Spare? - where Meghan strolled into the KP offices late in the morning and announced that she brought bagels for breakfast. No one reacted and the staff felt it was actually tone-deaf of her to stroll in at 11 announcing breakfast when they’d been working for a few hours already. So right away, Meghan’s claims that she’s a go-getter American boss are debunked because no one who calls herself a go-getter is delaying her arrival to the office by 5-6 hours so she can do yoga and talk to her friends back home in California - as claimed in Finding Freedom.

She can’t do that here because we’ll call it out for the bullshit it is, because we all know better and we know the difference between the go-getter American boss babe Meghan wants us to think she is and the toxic narcissist boss dick she actually is. Meghan wants us to think she’s Miranda Priestly with the charm of Leslie Knope but she’s really just Mr. Burns dressed up as Jan Levinson.

For the record, American work ethic actually comes from the Puritans: it’s working hard all day every day to pull yourself up by the bootstraps but when the workday ends, the workday ends. It’s why we have shit maternity/parental leave and have practically no vacation time (compared to other countries) - because the Puritans sucked the fun out of everything and then when the class divide happened during the Industrial Revolution, the rich got richer, the poor got poorer, and everyone developed the mindset of “well, it was like that for me and I persevered so why should I make it better for you?” (Which, by the way, is 1-the main debate today over welfare programs and 2-why the ‘rags to riches’/Cinderella story works so well here, for any non-Americans here.)

Well, that was a very-so-far-off-the-road-we-can’t-see-it-anymore tangent.

Anyway. Getting back to the point. Which is that all the excuses Meghan gave to justify, or blame others for, her behavior in the UK doesn’t work here. She knows it and she’s stuck. That’s why she isn’t talking. Her whole game is over when the Americans start talking because while we don’t always get along, one of the very few things that all Americans agree on is bad bosses suck and rude celebrities that bully everyone are the worst.

Now, where’s my Swingline red stapler? And why couldn’t Dolly sing 10-3?

#sussexes

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heygerald · 5 months ago

Text

Falling Without a Harness - Chapter 11

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. Tom Ryder is rich. Everyone knows that. When Tom decides to do something out of character, Parker has to decide what is just the habits of someone careless with their fortune, and what can be considered acts of service from someone that cares about her.

Read the story here: prev / ...

The studio set after hours was a strange place to find oneself. It was beautiful in that glamorous way that everything mundane in Hollywood was; twinkling lights strung between ugly studio buildings, extras dressed in 1800s regalia tapping on their phones as they awaited whatever scene they were in, the black blanket of the endless LA sky an empty backdrop to the megaphones and spotlights being lugged around.

It was exciting, and it was also not; there was a lot of movement but not a whole lot of doing that translated to a mute static hanging in the air.

"Is it always like this?" Parker asked from her spot in the back end of Dan's pick-up truck. It had been packed with all sorts of bits and bobs that she had never seen before, and as Jody exchanged the batteries in a flashlight, Parker prodded curiously at a baseball sized dent in one of the various helmets stacked behind her. "Not stunt work, I mean. The set in general. I figure Dan probably goes through three helmets a week."

Jody hummed, flicking the flashlight on then off before setting it aside as a warbled voice crackled across the radio on her belt. She tilted her head to listen for a brief moment before turning back to Parker.

"Studio sets are always busy. Haven't you been here before?"

"Sure, but... during normal hours," Parker noted with a glance towards the sky. "But it's almost midnight, and the parking lot was pretty full when I got here at ten."

Jody hummed flippantly, shrugging as she switched her radio to a different channel. More warbled conversation flowed for a few minutes before she decided that there was nothing important enough to require her attention.

Snapping it back onto her belt, the camerawoman kicked her feet back and forth with a delicate smile curving her lips. "Well, I suppose there's always something to be filmed. It's not just us filming on the lot, you know. We share space with a dozen other directors at any given moment. Sometimes, you're filming night scenes. Sometimes you just want to get work in when less people are around. It's just how it is."

Parker supposed that made sense. Afterall, she preferred to go grocery shopping late at night for the very purpose of having less people to avoid in the aisles.

Still.

It was odd to see a set full of life in the middle of the night. Odder still when a pair of actors drifted by on a golf cart; the pair were dressed in ragged clothes, with fake bruises painted along their cheeks, and red cuts oozing fake blood down their forearms. No one but Parker even seemed to register their presence before they disappeared down a nearby alley.

"I think this is way more fun than coming during the day," she decided a moment later. "And I'm not just saying that because I didn't have to argue with the security guards to get in."

Jody snickered. "They're actually very nice."

"To everyone but me, apparently."

"You never have a good reason to be on set, though, do you?" the Brit teased with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Parker faked offense, and Jody's hair came loose from behind her ears as she laughed. "Kidding. I'm very glad to have someone keep me company tonight while Colt's training. Although I am surprised you had time to come by at all. Colt says you've been busy lately."

"Busy-er than before. But ten times zero is still zero, you know?"

"Oh, please," Jody rolled her eyes, flashlight toggle flickering mindlessly in her hands as she tried to stave off boredom. Honestly, Parker didn't know how she managed not to fall asleep with so little to do this late at night. She was yawning and she hadn't been here since the early morning like Jody had. "Your store is splendid. You've always had clients. Now, apparently, you just have more. Busy is still busy."

"Splendid?" Parker echoed, teasing the word in a mock British accent. She quite liked it; both the sound and the funky way she had to work her tongue. "No one has ever called my store splendid before, but you're right. It is a splendid store. Andy R from Angie's List can suck it."

"He left a bad review?"

Parker waved a hand at Jody. "He comes in once a month to ask if I have any new Tolstoy books in, and when I remind him that Tolstoy died a couple hundred years back, he thinks I'm being emotional and sassy. Asshole."

"Prick," Jody said in her very real British accent.

Parker liked that too. "Andy R is a total prick. Maybe that's the tagline that I'll put on my t-shirts. Or, a few, anyways. I'd bet Melissa would be happy to wear one with me. She does not like that dude."

"You're finally getting shirts?"

"Finally."

"See?" Jody gestured to her. "You are busy."

Parker rolled her eyes with a smile. It was endearing how much Jody cared about the success of her store—always inquiring about how sales are going, and dropping by when she has some time to pick up a new book—but they were surface level compliments at best. Her store wasn't going to beat out Barnes & Nobles for awards anytime soon.

She'd be lucky to finally have her shop registering on Google Maps as a business and not as just a big question mark like it currently was.

"Not for customers to buy, anyway. I just think it's about time I got my store name on a t-shirt. Everybody has t-shirts. I mean, literally everybody. Have you ever been to a thrift store? I have found some weird stuff in the dollar bin."

Jody tipped her head back in laughter. "I have seen some odd shirts. Mostly, though, they're shirts that you are wearing."

She shrugged. "What can I say? I love a good thrift store bargain. And a gimmick. And—well, anything to do with my store. All the more reason to start printing my own shirts. I can finally rep the place, you know? Plus, I am busier now. I might even be able to print a dozen tees without going bankrupt by the end of the calendar year."

Jody peered at Parker sideways, soda bottle in hand as she swished the lash few sips around in circles. "So, things are going well, then."

Parker tilted her head left and right. Things certainly were going better, but that didn't mean she wasn't still drowning in bills and ridiculous requests from customers that were absolutely not 'always right'. Even with the increase in revenue and constant presence of teenage girls from the local high school, she was stuck spending most of her day putting out fires. She could feel herself stretching thin lately with all the extra hours her and Melissa were putting in, and at some point over the last year she had gone completely nose blind to the musty smell of her store. Not to mention the fact that she was also fairly sure that the Bath and Body Works' plug-ins spread around her store were going to give her cancer one day (if the crusty moms were to be believed). But it wasn't the time nor the place to drop all of those fears onto Jody's lap; not to mention way too late to use the braincells needed to verbalize those thoughts.

So, Parker elected to ignore all of that. Instead, she waggled her brows with a grin. "Does that mean you'll buy a shirt?"

Jody shook her head, snorting. "You really are Colt's sister."

"Well, I'd hope so," she sniffed. "The orphan-in-a-box story always seemed a little too stupid to be true. As if someone would ever give this up," she tacked on, gesturing to herself with an impish smile.

The look was betrayed by her over-sized sweatshirt and messy braids. Not to mention the tattered jeans and filthy sneakers on her feet. But if Jody was laughing at her, she didn't say, and so the two women giggled at their inside joke whilst the set continued to spur to life around them.

An actress dressed in a delicate silk dress and high heels strutted past as they laughed; her hair was done up in perfect Hollywood glamor, sparkly highlighter on her cheekbones and a delicate pink eyeshadow painting her lids. With the fur slung over her shoulders, she looked like she had just hopped out of a Marilyn Monroe biopic, and when she tossed her hair, it looked like—well—a movie. It took Parker a moment to calm down from her laughter to recognize the actress from a popular CW tv show, and as she strolled past, she couldn't help but crack her neck to get a better look.

When she turned back to Jody, the camerawoman hadn't even seemed to notice.

"This is crazy," she said, tucking her legs up underneath her as she fiddled with the straps on Dan's busted helmet. The actress was gone now, and Parker tried to shake the bizarre feeling of being stuck in The Twilight Zone from her mind. "I know you work in the film industry, but, honestly... It must be so much fun doing this sort of thing all the time."

Jody snorted. "Sure," she echoed. "Fun."

"Isn't it?"

"I mean... alright, yes, of course it is fun. It's amazing to be behind the scenes, to see how movies are made, to know how much work goes into a three minute scene without any dialogue. I mean—I'm always learning new things, so it's certainly not boring," she said. But Parker felt like there was going to be more to her answer, and so she tilted her head in interest, prompting Jody to continue. "But... a typical nine to five certainly wouldn't hurt sometimes. Times like these, when we're stuck here until god knows when just so the director can perfect a shadow in one of the scenes or something else as miniscule... well, it can certainly test your patience."

Parker glanced in the director's direction, taking note of the two assistants that trailed after him with thick binders full of colorful notes, pens tucked haphazardly about their persons. "It's not always like this though. Right?"

Jody shook her head. "No, no. Of course not. Usually our shifts are much more normal. Even if the hours vary, they usually schedule morning scenes together, evening scenes together—you know. So it's not so tedious. And we're almost never here this late just for blocking. Sadowitz is on a tighter schedule for a few things since the New York scenes have to be shot by the first of the month. He's just getting in as many last minute rehearsals as possible so when they go to New York everything is set to go right away. Understandable, of course... I just wish he wasn't such a perfectionist sometimes."

Jacob Sadowitz was the up-and-coming director leading this sci-fi film, and though he wasn't that much older than Parker, he had already earned himself a fair share of accolades for his daring action films. Particularly, the box office had been impressed with his intricate fight scenes and stunt work in his latest movies. Just last year some veteran journalist had printed an in-depth essay commending Sadowitz' dedication to the craft, touching on how much research he put into his work to make sure everything was as accurate as possible. Based on his credentials alone it was no surprise that he would be working his stunt crew till the middle of the night until they were well-oiled machines.

Still, Parker wrinkled her nose tiredly. "Isn't there a quote about that? Perfectionism being the downfall of yada, yada, yada. Want me to tell him that? Threaten to call the union if you don't get to go home soon?"

The truck shook as Jody kicked her leg at Parker with a reprimanding tut. But, she was smiling as she did it, giggling under her breath in that way of hers. "He's not that bad. This is not that bad. I mean, sometimes, the schedule is so mind-bendingly awful that it's a wonder anything gets done... but it's hardly the worst I've dealt with. At least he treats everyone well. Well, he doesn't scream at anyone, I mean."

Parker blew a raspberry. "I can't even imagine. I think I'd get arrested for my behavior if a director ever screamed at me. No idea how you don't lose your shit on the daily."

"Oh, I've come close a few times," she chuckled.

The comment surprised Parker. Not because Jody Moreno was a woman that could take care of herself—obviously, she didn't put up with bullshit, and she didn't rely on anyone to get things done. Moreso because Jody had to put up with so much that Parker couldn't quite imagine a scenario that would have to be bad enough to cause the camerawoman to lose her cool. And if being yelled at wasn't enough, what was? Leaning closer, she needled. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure I can even remember why anymore."

"So it's happened more than once?"

"Are you kidding?" Jody scoffed with a shake of her head. "The type of behavior you see on set is not something you'd ever get away with anywhere else. It happens every movie. Directors are just so..."

"Insane?"

"Hollywood," she corrected, gaze darting around to see if anyone was in hearing range of her complaints. No one was, though, and even if they were, Parker had a sneaking suspicion that the other set crew would be more likely to join in on the bitch fest than snitch about it. "I mean you wouldn't believe some of the stuff we have to put up with. The egos some of these directors have is absurd. Bad directors! Ones that shouldn't even be directing that act like they're Tarantino or Nolan. Throwing things and crying and blubbering like babies—"

"Oh, fuck off!" Parker cried, leaning even closer. "You're joking!"

Jody Moreno was not, in fact, joking. She looked scandalized just by having to recall the things she had seen. Something haunted in her eyes, but there was still a smile tugging at her mouth. Obviously, she saw the humor in it; even if it was fucked up. "I wish. I mean—grown men crying because something wasn't going their way or screaming because the sun is too bright." She made air quotes with her hands, showing that she was not joking in the slightest about this before inching towards Parker. Something twinkled in her eyes as she said, "I kid you not during my first gig ever, I had a director break down in tears because the lead actress wasn't pronouncing the word butter how he wanted her to."

"Butter?" Parker echoed incredulously. "Is there even a wrong way to say it?"

"Oh," she said, giggling. "You'd be surprised. Not to say that he was right in his little hissy fit, but her accent was so wrong. Awful, Parker. I'm telling you. The whole film—a disaster."

"Huh. Butter," she said with a giggle.

Jody giggled back. "No, it was more like boo-ter."

"Boo-ter?" she cried. "That's—no way. Butter. Butt-her. How do you even—bu-t-ter?"

The two women keeled forward in laughter at the ridiculous conversation. It was such a stupid thing for someone to cry over, but the longer they tossed the word back in forth in the most ridiculous accents they could imagine, Parker was beginning to forget how it was properly pronounced in the first place.

Was it—?

There was a scuffle of shoes, then a thump as Dan dropped his elbows onto the side of the truck bed with a wary glance towards the two women. He almost looked like he didn't want to get involved in the first place, but when the silent stare-off seemed even funnier than their previous conversation causing them to tip against the other in laughter, his curiosity seemed to outweigh his hesitation.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked.

"That depends," Parker wiped tears out of the corner of her eyes. "How do you say butter?"

Dan blinked at her. Then, slowly, he shook his head at them with a long sigh. "So, no, I don't want to know. I told your brother that leaving you two hens together would only lead to trouble. He doesn't ever listen to me, though, does he?"

"Oi!" Parker smacked him on the arm, scoffing. "Who are you calling hens?"

Dan waved a hand at her, before snatching the helmet off of her lap, and plopping it atop her head to say, "always clucking, you two. Colt's going to end up in trouble and he's not even going to know why. I'd feel sorry for him if he didn't still owe me fifty bucks. You aren't here to pay his debts, are you?"

Parker, helmet now hanging low over her eyes, adjusted it towards the back of her head with a scoff. "It's sins of the father, not sins of the little sister. What's he doing that he's going to get in trouble for, anyway?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no," Dan laughed, wagging a finger at her in as much of a patronizing manner as someone could manage after a twelve hour shift. She would have scowled if it wasn't so endearing; she always liked Dan. Mostly because he had a head on his shoulders when her brother was constantly looking for where he left his, but also because he was just as good at teasing as he was being teased. "I'm not falling for that one, Park. If you don't know, then you're not going to find out from me. Snitches get stiches, you know?"

"Whatever. He's awful at secrets, so if he is doing something stupid, I'll find out. I always do."

Dan mimicked talking with his hand. "What'd I say? Clucking hens."

"I don't cluck, I just point out all the ways he's spectacularly stupid in," she corrected with a waggle of the head. The movement seemed to jostle the oversized helmet too much, however, and it rapped her nose as it slid down her face. Parker adjusted it a second time with a huff, ignoring how Jody was snickering into her hand. "Speaking of doing spectacularly stupid things, Numbnuts doesn't need this helmet for this stunt does he? I think it's broken."

"They have straps for a reason," Dan pointed out.

The comment sounded far too much like a threat for her liking though and Parker just managed to bend out of his grasp before he could cinch the straps under her chin. She bumped into Jody, who only shook her head at the pair's antics, as her radio warbled with nonsensical chatter.

Parker side-eyed Dan. "Isn't there something you should be doing right now? Like—I don't know—working? Tying safety knots or blowing up an inflatable mat or whatever it is you do? I'm sure there's a building you could hurl yourself off of nearby if you'd rather leave the hens alone."

Dan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "That's your brother's job, though, isn't it?"

And—oh, yeah.

Remembering the reason that she was sitting in this pick-up truck in the first place Parker planted a hand on the helmet so she could tip her head back far enough to see said brother standing about thirty feet up on a platform of sorts. It was the skeleton of a building, open staircases with haphazardly drilled in railings surrounding each new floor. It almost looked like something you would find on a construction site in lieu of a working elevator, but Colt didn't seem to mind the shoddy building from his spot at the tip-top of it where he was in deep conversation with the stunt coordinator. Jody had explained that this was the frame of whatever building he would actually be performing the stunt from; just a temporary set he could work with here before shooting the real thing, but from this point of view it just looked like a whole lot of OSHA violations to Parker.

As expected, he didn't seem to notice.

In fact, Colt seemed to be smiling an awful lot for someone about to be thrown off a building, and even though he was wearing a harness, Parker had to look away before the nervous feeling in her stomach ran off with her dinner.

"I still don't understand why he's doing this at midnight," she mumbled to no one in particular. The darkness seemed to creep in every corner, and Parker wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill. "Couldn't the stunt coordinator have booked this death trap during the day?"

"It's cheaper at night," Jody said. "Less people around, less unnecessary crew getting in the way."

"Plus, you know, if he does fall and crack his head open on the pavement it's a whole lot easier for an ambulance to get here without rush-hour traffic," Dan joked.

The truck physically rocked from how quickly the two women jerked their heads in his direction, and as if suddenly aware of how flat his joke had fallen with this particular audience, he threw up his palms before they could say anything.

"Shit. Sorry. I was just kidding, yeah? Stunt humor tends to be... bleak."

"Stunt humor is never funny," Jody said.

"Honestly, Dan," Parker added with the shake of her head. The helmet slid down her forehead once more, and she tossed the entire helmet behind her with a patronizing tut. "Read the room."

He sucked his teeth, grimacing at the ground. "Sorry."

"If he ends up in the hospital now it's all going to be your fault," Parker continued, digging her teeth in. She could have bleak humor too when she wanted, and Dan grimaced a second time as if he was just remembering that. "Don't stuntmen believe in jinx's? We need salt, now. You have any salt? Or, like, a rabbit's foot or—is it one crow's feather or two?"

This time, he rolled his eyes at her, looking a whole lot less apologetic about the situation. "I said sorry."

"Oh, well, I'll make sure Colt knows that when he's on a ventilator and having a machine do all his breathing for him. He'll be so touched, I'm sure."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry! He's sorry! Jody, give me your radio, we need to cancel—"

Parker reached for Jody's radio at the same time that she got tired of their antics, and with a glare, Jody swatted Parker's hand away from her hip. "Honestly, you two," she tsked at them like a teacher scolding schoolchildren. And, like two schoolchildren being scolded, Parker and Dan avoided one another's gaze so they didn't bust out in laughter. "Now you have me worried!"

"Oh, he's going to be fine," Dan assured her.

"Fine," Parker echoed.

"Well," Dan hedged after a moment, and Parker was already snickering before she heard what he had to say. "Physically he'll be okay. It's all safe, he's harnessed in, the mat is made for this sort of thing. But, mentally, you know..." Dan trailed off as he glanced up towards Colt. "He'll be the same he always has been."

"Oh, stop it!" Jody chucked her empty soda bottle at him.

It bounced off his chest with a dull thud, and Parker had just tilted forward in laughter when there was a bullhorn somewhere on the far side of the set. The three tilted their heads back just in time to watch Colt lurched off the platform, arms swinging wildly as if he was falling to his death. And just when Parker's stomach clenched in concern because—what if?—he hit the mat with his own dull thud. Air started hissing out of the inflatable in seconds, and as it pooled around him, Colt's first response was to give everyone on set a thumbs-up.

"Well, there's definitely something wrong with him," Parker said after a long moment of silence, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Dan was already walking away from whatever she was about to say, and needing an audience, she turned to Jody knowing the woman would sympathize. With a jerk of her thumb, she sighed. "I mean, why else would he do this for money? Honestly?"

Jody hemmed and hawed for a moment before giving in. "Because... he's an idiot?"

"Because," Parker agreed, finishing her own soda with an eyeroll as her brother traded high-fives with one of the other stuntmen, "he's an idiot."

---

...

Parker rolled her eyes, watching the little green message bubble filled with "..." blink yet again on the phone screen before her. It had been repeating this message for the last hour of her life; an hour that she was now never going to get back thanks to the idiot on the other end of the messenger app, and as her neck twitched with a painful crick from the angle she had been staring at her phone, something even more painful burned behind her eyes.

She should probably stop staring at it; could definitely do with some dinner, a nice glass of water, and maybe some Ibuprofen. Wine wouldn't hurt either. Nor would a cigarette, a nice warm shower, and a few hours lying vertical in her bed. Somewhere unplugged, where she didn't give into the temptation to glance at her phone; the very phone in her hand, that she could ever so easily tilt her wrist to see if maybe, in her spiral of misery, he had—

...

"Son of a bitch," she muttered, head thumping none-too-gently against the table.

It hurt a lot more than it should have, but it was cool, too. The scratched up wood smooth against her cheeks as she worked on evening out her breathing. Her neck felt better like this; shoulders too. Hell, it just felt good to lay her head down after the week that she had. Felt nice to let her eyes flutter shut, to let all thoughts turn off, to just breathe in, breathe out, and—

Her phone buzzed, and Parker ripped her head up off the table so quickly the room spun before her.

But whatever hope had caught in her chest fizzled out like a popped balloon upon seeing Colt's name on her screen.

The message read, "I thought we were gonna be sombrero buddies :(" with an attached picture of her brother wearing a sombrero and sunglasses, holding a heavily packed taco, a still smoking grill in the background. She recognized it immediately as the one at Dan's, before remembering that she had been invited over with some of the other boys for tacos and margaritas earlier that week. No wonder her brother looked so put out.

"Son of a bitch," she said a second time.

She meant it, too. Parker was pretty sure that tacos and spicy margaritas was the cure for every ailment in life. Or, you know, the spiritual kind anyway. They certainly didn't help when she broke her arm a few years ago; but they did lift her spirits immensely.

"What the hell is going on over there?" Tom's voice echoed from the other end of the room, and suddenly Parker was reminded that she was not alone in her misery.

She glanced up to find him staring at her with furrowed brows, a hand on the hip of his leather NASA flight suit as Betty and Sasha fiddled with the material. It was his final character testing today, along with the creation of the highly coveted look book, and while her brother wasn't needed for this sort of thing, Parker had jumped at the chance to spend some time with Tom specifically so she wouldn't spend all day thinking about work.

Son of a bitch!

She winced, waving her phone at him. "Oh, just Colt. He invited me for dinner tonight over at Dan's and I totally forgot. He's going to be pissed. He's all alone wearing his sombrero."

"Colt is going to be pissed because he doesn't have anyone to wear a sombrero with?" Tom asked in a scathing tone. She would have corrected him if it wasn't... well, accurate. She loved her brother, but sometimes he got upset over the littlest of things. Particularly when he felt like she was doing something without him. "He does know that he's an adult, doesn't he?"

"Oi, be nice. That's my brother you're talking about."

"You shit on him all the time."

"Well—" she waved a hand around flippantly, flabbergasted at even having to defend against such an accusation. "Duh! He's my brother. But you don't have that right, Ryder, so pack it in before I report you to, like, HR or whatever."

Tom rolled his eyes as Sasha tugged on the length of his right pant leg. It all looked good; professionally made, snug in all the right places, and the perfect backdrop for his bright eyes and shiny teeth. In fact, he looked even better than she thought he had looked before, and Parker was just about to ogle him as he was turned left and right by the seamstresses when her phone buzzed a second time.

She plucked it up, disappointed yet again to see that it was from her brother and not from the eBay seller.

"And what on Earth is with that?" Tom's cloying voice echoed a second time.

She pulled her attention away from her phone long enough to notice the cross furrow of his brows and the tightness of his shoulders.

"With what?" she asked, not sure where this was coming from.

He gestured to her phone, sniffing when his hairstylist teased a few strands of hair off his forehead with a comb. "You've had your nose in that thing since you got here. You have a hot date that I don't know about or something?" he snarked.

And—well.

Parker had to physically bite down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing. Not only would that further piss him off, but with the people in the room, it likely wouldn't be great for his image either. But the idea that Tom—Tom Ryder, the same man whose face was plastered all over town—would be upset that he wasn't given her undivided attention was fucking hilarious to Parker.

Honestly, men. They really were just children.

Smothering out her smile, Parker turned her phone face down against the table. "Okay, alright, I'm sorry. There's this guy over in Wrightwood that has a print shop, or inherited one or his Dad just demolished one or—I don't know," she paused to wave a hand around, earning an eyeroll from Tom. "Whatever. I'm trying to convince him to sell me a box of mystery novels from his collection. He's being unnecessarily difficult about it, though."

"Who is this guy?"

"Melissa's dad's second cousin or something. She showed me his eBay profile last week and he's been dragging me over the coals for the past couple of days about whether he'll sell to me or not. He wants an absurd up-front price that, even if I could pay, I would never pay, but he also hasn't sold anything on eBay before so I think he's getting kind of desperate."

Tom, still cross, but now slightly more interested, arched an eyebrow at her. "Why are you buying stuff off eBay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you think I have a print shop hiding in my apartment? I know you haven't been there yet, but it's not that big. I think it has an occupancy limit of five."

"Five?" he echoed dumbly. To that, she did laugh, but then she glanced back at her phone and realized that she likely wasn't going to get anything good from this idiot even if he did sell to her. As was her lot in life, nothing seemed to work out her way. Knowing this, Parker let her head fall onto the table with a hollow thump, something miserable prickling in the back of her eyes. Maybe that's why he let that particular comment go without any further mocking. There was the shutter of a polaroid camera snapping before he spoke again. "Well, why are you worrying about this now?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's Sunday." She tilted her head sideways on the table to peer over at him. He wasn't mocking her, but given the team of people quite literally fixing his air and clothes for him at the moment, she doubted he understood what she was going through either. "Can't you deal with it later?"

"Like... when I'm busy working at the store?"

"You're always working at the store."

She tutted; half in humor, half about how miserable that statement about her life just was. "Well, duh. That happens when you own a teeny tiny little shop that, for some reason, seems to be actively trying to bankrupt you. I think there's a malevolent spirit the real estate agent didn't tell me about. Or, like, it's built on haunted burial grounds or something. I've broken three lightbulbs this month, and fell off a ladder yesterday just trying to fix the stockroom fan. Which, by the way, I still don't know how it broke, but something is not right with that thing. I don't think they should squeak so much. It sounds like a pig. Or... like a dying cat. It's unsettling."

Tom must have sensed something in her lackluster tone because he almost seemed concerned when he asked, "don't you have employees to do that stuff for you?"

"Uh, employee, singular. And you've met her. And, half the time, I wonder if she isn't the malevolent spirit that's out to make my life miserable," she said. Meant it, too. Just that week Melissa had insulted her style in three different slang terms that Parker had to look up on Urban Dictionary to understand. Honestly, she could handle being "old", what she couldn't handle was having to put work in just to know she was being insulted. That crossed some sort of imaginary line. "Besides, she only works a couple shifts a week, and she's more for cleaning and stocking than real, managerial stuff. Or anything that might require her getting more than two feet off the ground. I'm not paying liability insurance."

He frowned at her oddly. "Don't you have to—?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, Melissa is great. But she can't do everything, and I can't expect her to do more than she already has as a part-time employee."

"Why don't you hire a manager then?" he asked as if that was a conclusion she hadn't drawn herself.

She might have told him to fuck off for mansplaining right then and there if Tom's question hadn't been spoken in such a earnest manner. Or, as earnest as someone like him could be. Most A-listers like him wouldn't even be giving her the time of day, let alone listening to her problems, and at the very least Parker took some comfort in the thought.

"Good idea, but I think there's about a thousand other things I need to do before I can budget for a manager. Like, I should probably pay off my car at some point. Then get liability insurance. Then get car insurance," she counted off.

Sasha and Betty laughed into their hands, both women just as amused by Parker as the first time, and with another snap of the polaroid camera, the group shifted to making sure the right picture had the right information in the tag book for future reference.

Tom took the reprieve to snag two bottles of water from the mini-fridge before he was sitting down next to her. He wasn't slumping—she didn't think Tom Ryder could slump—but from the weight of his shoulders it was obvious he had been having a long day too.

"You can't afford anyone else?" he asked in spite of that.

Parker uncapped her bottle with a sigh. She didn't even have the energy to be disgruntled by how different their lives were. What he had, he had because he earned it, and Parker made sure to remember that rather than resent that as she took a long dreg of water. "One day I can. Just... not today. I need to have a more steady revenue stream before I can start thinking about anything like that, and to get a more steady revenue stream I have to be willing to work all hours of the day. Even if it's just to haggle with some prick still living in his parent's basement for a box of Hardy Boys books. Turtles on turtles and all that."

"I have no fucking idea what that means," he said, blinking at her, and this time he was so earnest that she couldn't have doubted him even if she tried.

She shook her head with a laugh, already feeling better. "Do you feel like Mexican food after this?"

"Dan's?"

"I have an open invitation," she said. They'll be cool with it if I bring you, she meant. And from the way he pursed his lips, it was obvious that he understood that too. But, he also seemed tired sitting next to her, and Parker could feel that same sort of weariness in her own bones too. "Or... we could get pizza?"

"Pizza is all carbs."

"Mhm, you're right. We should definitely get pizza," she nodded as if he had made a really good point.

"Can you afford that?"

"Are you kidding?" Parker clutched a hand to her chest. "There's always money for pizza. That's like budgeting one-oh-one, Ryder."

He didn't make a comment about how that was probably a stupid way to spend what little money she had, and Parker didn't bring up the fact that she knew he would pay for it later anyway. He always did, even when she made a big deal about wanting to pick up the tab, Tom had yet to let her pay for anything when they were together. She supposed it was easy for him; just muscle memory at this point in his life.

But to her it meant a lot, and she always did her best to make sure he knew that.

Just at the crest of his elbow sat the photographer's polaroid camera, and while the ladies were busy taping everything down and scribbling notes in a variety of pen colors, Parker reached past Tom to grab it.

"I've never had a polaroid camera before."

"Never?"

She picked up the camera, aiming it at Tom, and without hesitating he tilted his head up, eyes down, mouth curving open just a centimeter in that way that looked so effortlessly good that she almost forgot to snap a photo.

"Son of a bitch," she said when it printed, the photo glossy and warm in her hands. "How do you do that? Is that what mewling is?"

"Don't—don't say that," he laughed at her, grabbing the camera from her hands to point it at her. Parker's response was the opposite of his, however, and when the picture printed, it revealed an awkward looking Parker, mouth half open in argument, eyes a little too squinty, hair all sorts of a mess.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked. "Give me that!"

But Tom was faster than she was, and when he tucked the picture into the pocket of his jumpsuit, laughing so heartily that the ladies glanced over at the pair with their own curious smiles, Parker could only catch her face in her hands with a furious blush.

"Tom!" she hissed, smacking him. "It's not funny!"

"You just—it's not—come on, here," he said, shaking his head at her. She was still scowling when Tom grabbed her chair and tugged it by the leg until their thighs were pressed against one another. His body radiated heat as he tossed his free arm over her shoulder, cheek against cheek, and she felt the rumble of his voice more than heard it as he directed her. "Just smile, Park, Jesus. Don't look so stiff."

She tried to shove him off her, only to fail, and as Tom laughed at her, Parker couldn't help but laugh herself.

The photos were crooked, one slightly blurry, and in neither photo were they looking at the camera. And though she still didn't look great, nowhere near as good as him, Tom looked happy in the photos as he laughed.

Parker decided right then that she could live looking like this if he looked like that.

---

Crave Cafe was just as quaint during the off season as it was during the busy summer months, and though it was surprisingly vacant for a Saturday afternoon, the cafe never actually felt empty to Parker. All the tables were dotted with cute decorations, the chairs all stuffed with hand-stitched pillows and dollar-bin cushions that added an eclectic nature to the darkly painted walls, and the jukebox in the corner never failing to fill the lapses of silence with something soothing. For so many reasons this spot had always been one of her favorite places for coffee in LA, and after a long week at work, Parker couldn't help but take a deep whiff of the cinnamon and coffee bean scent that lingered in the air.

"There you are," Harry greeted from behind the counter. He looked a little out of sorts with how empty the place was, the counter spotless and clean from wiping it down too much, and as he grinned at her arrival, Parker was more than happy to be of service to her favorite barista on this side of town. "I was wondering if you'd make it over today."

Parker ambled closer with a tut. "That's almost insulting, Harry, of course I would. It's Saturday, isn't it? What sort of person would I be if I broke tradition with no good reason?"

Harry swung a pink towel over his shoulder, grinning as he started tapping away on his kiosk screen. "The usual, then?"

"Plus, a cookie, please."

"Really living big theses days, huh, Parker?" he teased.

She bent her hip at the counter, watching as she always did as Harry started fiddling with the expensive machines lined behind the counter. She never understood which thing did what, but she did know that anything made by Harry was about to be phenomenal. As steam rushed from one of the metal prongs, she promised herself that one day she would buy a top of the line espresso and latte machine for her kitchen.

Of course, she'd had to learn how to use it, but... well, dreams were dreams for a reason.

"Yeah, well, I always had a weak will when it came to your baked goods. Is this the same recipe as last year, or did you change it up?"

Harry poured her coffee into a to-go cup, twisting the foam at the end to create the image of a leaf, before carefully sliding it towards her. Right before she could grab it, however, Harry pulled the cup back, warning, "I know I say this every time, but it is literally boiling right now, Parker. Don't drink it yet."

She laughed as if that hadn't been exactly what she was about to do. "I know," she said, smiling a little too keenly for his liking. "I won't. Promise."

He didn't seem to trust her, but eventually he gave up and slid the cup towards her side of the counter. The second he moved away she grabbed the cup, finger dipping into the foam—which, of course, was also scalding hot—and to hide the fact that she had just burnt herself, Parker licked some foam off her finger with a bland smile. "I was just... taste testing."

Harry suppressed a sigh to toss her a cold rag, and as Parker cleaned off her finger, he started making Melissa's pumpkin spice latte. "The cookie is a different recipe this time. Marin wanted to try something new, so make sure you tell her what you think. It has nutmeg and hazelnut in it. I think it's a little too much, but Sarah really likes it."

"Nutty," she joked.

"And hopefully good."

Parker waved a hand at him, testing the temperature of the cup once more, before catching Harry's stern look. She tucked her hands before her back with a glittering smile. "I'm sure it'll be amazing. If I get to eat any of it, anyway."

Parker didn't mention the fact that Melissa had a nasty habit of eating any and all pastries she brought into the store without so much as leaving a crumb for her boss to taste. She figured Harry didn't need to know all that information. Besides, on the off chance that Melissa was actually a Gremlin like Colt had theorized, she was still trying to figure out what the rules were for feeding her, and the last thing she wanted was to have Harry cut off their main source of lunch.

As if he understood all that without her having to explain, Harry shook his head at her with a laugh. "Yeah, well, you may as well scarf it down now before you head back over. I know we joke that you're my number one customer, Park, but I would have understood if you didn't have time to stop over today."

Nothing he said had any bearing on the Melissa being a Gremlin vs not debate, and Parker tilted her head at him oddly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm flattered that you would want to stop in here, but I don't know how you found time to with that whole mess going on. I couldn't even park in my own parking lot this morning, you know that? Kudos to you for finally stealing my customers, but... sheesh. I'll never understand how you pulled this one off."

Huh.

Well, that made even less sense than before and she had quite literally been debating whether her employee was a creature from an 80's fantasy horror series. Sensing that she was missing something important, Parker peered out the front window with a frown. She had noticed a lot of people milling around outside, but she had walked from the post office so she didn't have to deal with traffic, no parking involved. "I'm not—what do you mean?"

It was then that Harry seemed to sense her confusion, and suddenly the pair were sharing matching looks of confusion. "Um... didn't you come here from your shop?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. And while it wasn't unusual for Melissa to take morning shift on Saturdays lately, suddenly, there were a thousand possible scenarios flickering through her mind of all the things that could have gone wrong since Melissa opened that morning. Panic welled in her chest, and Parker tried to laugh through it, struggling to explain herself. "I crashed at Colt's place last night without my phone charger. I dropped it off to charge while I ran some errands, but I came right here to get lunch, so I didn't grab it yet. Melissa was working this morning."

Oh god.

Melissa was working this morning.

"Oh my god," Parker slapped a hand onto the counter, suddenly worried that either her shop was on fire or that her only employee had died. "She's alright, isn't she? Oh my god! I haven't checked my messages yet—!"

"Jesus, no, Parker, it's okay!" he interrupted her before she could have a full blown panic attack in his cafe. He lifted his hands to placate her, and while Parker took a deep breath, she noticed how busy the outside street seemed to be. Awkwardly laughing, he rubbed his forehead. "Nothing's wrong. Definitely not wrong."

"Oh," she said, blood slowly rushing from her head. "Good."

He blinked at her, and Parker blinked right back.

"But then why—?"

There was a ding from the far end of the counter, and Harry gestured at her to wait as he grabbed her to-go bag. She could smell their freshly toasted sandwiches across the counter, and when Harry plucked a cookie out of the display, her stomach twisted in nervous knots.

"No phone," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at her. "Wow. That's... So, you haven't checked social media or anything today? Or talked to Melissa."

Her reply was a hesitant, "...no?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment, before shaking his head with another, surprised laugh. Like it had been startled out of him. Feeling even more confused, Parker frowned at him helplessly from her side of the counter. "Maybe you should just head over, then. Melissa could probably use the help right about now."

"Help?"

"And, uh, listen if you ever want to do some sort of deal with Crave, I'd love to talk to you about it," he added on as she numbly scrabbled for her credit card. The machine beeped as he continued, "you know, a punchcard sort of thing; buy two books gets fifty percent off coffee here, or something like that. Lots of stuff we could do, really. But we can talk about it later."

"Um... okay?" she nodded, so bewildered that she almost forgot to grab her coffees off the counter. Harry waved at her as she went, and Parker nearly smacked into the glass door as she waved back. "See you later, I guess."

The moment she stepped outside she bumped into a throng of girls standing on their phones, snapping photos. They reminded her a lot of Melissa; dressed in cute outfits, hair done up for the occasion, makeup a tad smeared beneath the eyes from grinning too much.

"Um, excuse me," she called, angling past one of the girl before running into two more identical ones. In fact, when Parker actually picked her head up to look around, she realized that the block was crawling with people. Mostly girls. Teen girls.

Mostly teen girls that seemed to be waiting in a line for—

Parker's coffee hit the sidewalk with a splat.

"Hey!" one of said girls cried at her, angrily shaking coffee stains off of her white sneakers. But Parker didn't notice much of anything she hurried down the block, bag smacking into every third person as she tried to weave through the thread of people. "At least say excuse me!"

The crowd of people got more tightly packed as the line curved, and Parker stopped square in the middle of the street to gape at the sight in front of her.

Every square inch of her store was packed with people. Girls, boys, thirty-year old blondes snapping photos of every angle and squealing delightfully when the picture came out right while their boyfriends hung out front with matching looks of boredom. People were even spilling outside from how crowded it was, and she had to physically push through to step inside.

"What in the f—?"

Parker was just about to owe a ten dollar bill to the swear jar when a familiar head of hair snapped up from the other side of the front counter.

Melissa didn't look much like Melissa. Her curls had fallen over the course of the morning, wayward tufts of frizzy hair tucked behind her ears as she worked on bagging an order. There were flecks of mascara smudged along her cheeks, her lips were lacking their normal peach glossy glaze, and as they made eye contact, she looked half dazed.

"Parker!" she hissed, trying not to sound shrill but definitely not sounding calm. "Where have you been?"

Not knowing what to say, Parker lifted her sandwich bag and latte into the air, helplessly fumbling for words. "I—I was getting us lunch. What is going on here?" she cried, angling behind the counter before someone else was the victim of her wayward coffee. "Is everyone on crack or something? What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Melissa echoed with a scandalized glare, a broken manicure jabbing in Parker's direction as the next person in line awkwardly set their books on the counter. "What did you do? Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been calling you all morning!"

"It's been like this all morning?"

"Uh, duh!" Melissa shrieked. The noise caught the attention of some nearby customers who looked concerned by the high-pitched noise. In unison, Parker and Melissa smiled at the customers, offering one-handed waves until their attention drifted elsewhere. Stiffly, they started on the next customer's order why talking out of the side of their mouths at one another. "You need to check your phone. Like, right now, Park."

"I can't," she hissed back, still speaking through a smile. Her store had never had this many people in it before, and suddenly she was wondering if she should move liability insurance higher on her list of things. "I left it at home."

"Oh my—" Melissa grunted under her breath, still smiling, and when she finished ringing up her customer, she quickly snatched her phone from her back pocket. The next customer in line seemed annoyed that her attention was taken away, however, and as she fiddled with it, Parker worked through the girl's pile of books. "Honestly. Of all the days that you don't have your phone on you... I mean, it's the twenty-first century, Park! Always have your phone on you!"

"Okay, maybe save the lecture for later," she chirped back as she finished ringing up the order. The girl paid with a credit card, and on she went, receipt waving in hand just as someone else took her place. "Just catch me up with what the hell is going on right now, please."

Melissa's response was an exasperated sigh before she was shoving her phone into Parker's hand, and retaking her spot at the register.

At first, Parker had no idea what she was looking at.

It was a picture on Instagram. A picture of her storefront, taken from across the street, framed to look aesthetically pleasing, and with some sort of boho filter on it that actually made the place look prettier than it really was. A nice picture, definitely, but not a good explanation as to what the hell was going on.

"Why are you showing me a picture of my store? I know what it looks like. I bought it."

Another customer went out the door as two more potential customers stepped inside, and Melissa sighed so heavily Parker was pretty sure they could feel the gust of wind on the other side of her double paned front windows.

"It's not the picture that matter, dummy!" she chirped, still smiling, before she was nudging Parker with her elbow. "Just—look at it!"

Parker was about to give a very childish retort about how she was looking at it, when she actually looked at it. It had received hundreds of thousands of likes since it had been posted last night, and while she clicked on the caption, a flood of new comments were being added by the second.

"Biggest question anyone asks if how do I prepare for an audition," the caption started. "Sometimes, it's easy. Sometimes you got to get your hands dirty and do some reading to get in the mindset of the character. In honor of filming starting this week, here's a s/o to my favorite hole in the wall bookstore in LA."

There was a flurry of hashtags—all ridiculous and stupid and so innately self-centered—that before she even checked the profile, Parker had a very strong feeling about who the original poster was.

Who else had this kind of social media following? Who else could do this?

The profile pic was just as pretty as he was: tomryder

Parker scanned the post a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Then, when she still felt like she wasn't processing it right, she glanced up at Melissa.

"Is this...?"

"Yup," the girl said.

"It's—this is his account?"

"Uh-huh," she said again.

Parker slumped against the counter, gaze raking over the horde of customers prodding around her store like it was a damn Barnes & Nobles. No, better. Because this was officially the bookstore that inspired the Tom Ryder for his latest role. NO Barnes & Nobles had ever done that. "This is all because he—"

"It had three hundred thousands likes this morning," Melissa added, not even waiting for Parker to get around to asking about that. And while the teenager seemed like it was no big deal, when she glanced up at her boss, her eyes were sparkling and her mouth was curled at the side. Obviously, her fascination for Tom Ryder had not disappeared. "Yeah. I know."

"This means..."

"That you're officially cool now?" Melissa chirped; somehow scathing and ecstatic at the same time. "Trust me, I know. Our lives just got a whole lot better, Park. I mean—look at this! We're so the coolest people here. I can't wait until school on Monday."

Parker nodded, feeling like her entire body was buzzing, and not quite hearing anything else that Melissa was saying. She just kept seeing the post over and over in her head. She had tried so hard not to need things from Tom, and he had proven time and time again that he was more than happy to give them.

For a long while, she had suspected that doing things for others—throwing parties, picking up the tab, paying for the alcohol—was just natural to him in his life now, a way that he had adapted to Hollywood stardom.

Yeah, you're welcome. I usually get paid twenty grand for doing something like this.

But that didn't quite fit the narrative anymore, did it?

"Excuse me?" a voice called out, interrupting her thinking. Parker blinked to find a twenty-something year old girl staring at her, hands timidly picking at one another. "Um, sorry. Do you have any Frank Herbert books? I looked, but didn't see any."

"Uh... yeah," she hedged, shaking any thoughts she had away. Right now, she would work. Later, she could deal with the rest of it. "Yeah. Right this way and I can show you what we have, and if you don't see any you like, I try to get sci-fi as much as possible so I can try to have new stuff this week. I might even have some extras in the back..."

The din of noise threatened to drown Parker out as she worked with her customer, but no matter how frazzled her tired she was, every time the bell tinkled with someone new coming inside, Parker found herself smiling a little bit brighter.

#falling without a harness #the fall guy #tom ryder #tom ryder x ofc #tom ryder imagine #colt seavers #jody moreno #the fall guy imagine #the fall guy series #series #parker seavers #imagine

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