#mercedes tire service

[rowlettmotorwerk]

Learn what triggers tire malfunction warnings on your Mercedes, from low tire pressure and uneven wear to sensor faults or punctures. Understanding these warnings helps prevent further issues, ensuring safety and performance. Explore practical solutions like proper inflation, tire rotation, and sensor recalibration to keep your vehicle running smoothly and reliably.

[terrysaytherautomotive]

Grip, Style, and Safety: Elevating Your Mercedes with Premium Tire & Wheel Services

Your Mercedes is more than just a car; it's a statement of luxury, performance, and engineering excellence. As a Mercedes owner, you understand the importance of maintaining your vehicle to the highest standards. One crucial aspect of maintenance that often goes overlooked is tire and wheel care. In this article, we'll delve into the significance of premium tire and wheel services for your Mercedes, exploring how they enhance grip, style, and safety on the road.

Understanding the Importance of Premium Tire & Wheel Services:

Tires and wheels are the only points of contact between your Mercedes and the road, making them critical components for safety and performance. Premium tire and wheel services go beyond basic maintenance, offering specialized care and attention to ensure optimal performance and longevity.

Enhancing Grip for Performance Driving:

Mercedes vehicles are renowned for their performance capabilities, and maintaining adequate grip is essential for harnessing that power safely. Premium tire services encompass a range of offerings designed to optimize traction and handling. This includes tire rotations to promote even wear, tire balancing to minimize vibration and improve stability, and tire alignments to ensure proper steering response and tire longevity. By maintaining optimal grip, you can unlock your Mercedes' full performance potential while enjoying a smoother and more responsive driving experience.

Elevating Style with Custom Wheel Solutions:

Style is an integral part of the Mercedes ownership experience, and your choice of wheels can make a significant impact on your vehicle's aesthetic appeal. Premium wheel services offer a plethora of options to customize and enhance your Mercedes' appearance. Whether you're looking to upgrade to larger wheels for a more aggressive stance, add a touch of elegance with forged alloy wheels, or personalize your ride with custom finishes, there's a wheel solution to suit every taste and style preference. With expert guidance from experienced technicians, you can transform your Mercedes into a true reflection of your individuality and sophistication.

Ensuring Safety through Tire Maintenance:

Safety is paramount when it comes to driving your Mercedes, and proper tire maintenance plays a crucial role in keeping you and your passengers safe on the road. Premium tire services focus on proactive measures to identify and address potential safety hazards before they escalate. This includes tire inspections to detect signs of wear, damage, or underinflation, tire pressure monitoring system (TPMS) diagnostics to ensure proper functionality, and tire repair or replacement as needed to maintain optimal safety standards. By prioritizing tire maintenance, you can enjoy peace of mind knowing that your Mercedes is equipped to handle whatever the road throws its way.

Investing in Longevity with High-Quality Tire Brands:

Quality is a hallmark of the Mercedes brand, and the same principle applies when it comes to choosing tires for your vehicle. Premium tire services offer access to a wide selection of high-quality tire brands that are specifically engineered to meet the performance and safety standards of your Mercedes. Whether you prioritize all-season versatility, sporty handling, or maximum fuel efficiency, there's a tire option available to suit your driving needs. By investing in premium tires, you can extend the lifespan of your Mercedes' tires, optimize fuel efficiency, and enjoy a quieter and more comfortable ride.

Navigating Seasonal Transitions with Tire Changeovers:

As the seasons change, so do the demands placed on your Mercedes' tires. Premium tire services include seasonal tire changeovers to ensure that your vehicle is equipped with the appropriate tires for prevailing road conditions. Whether it's switching from summer to winter tires for enhanced traction on snow and ice or transitioning to all-season tires for year-round versatility, seasonal tire changeovers help maximize safety and performance in any driving environment. With expert guidance from trained technicians, you can seamlessly navigate seasonal transitions and maintain optimal grip, style, and safety throughout the year.

Conclusion:

Your Mercedes represents the pinnacle of automotive luxury, performance, and innovation, and it deserves nothing but the best when it comes to tire and wheel services. By investing in premium tire and wheel services, you can elevate your driving experience to new heights, enhancing grip, style, and safety on the road. Whether you're seeking performance-driven tire solutions, custom wheel upgrades, or proactive tire maintenance, premium tire and wheel services offer the expertise and resources needed to keep your Mercedes running smoothly and looking its best.

[steves-auto-repair-va]

A Mercedes-Benz is well overdue for maintenance.

We saw a dashboard warning that said the B1 Service was exceeded by 16,000 miles.

The Mercedes B1 Service includes changing the oil, replacing the oil filter, and performing a brake fluid exchange.

Getting oil changes performed on a regular basis – every 3,000 to 5,000 miles, depending on the vehicle – prevents engine damage. 

This car maintenance ensures components are lubricated and enables parts that operate off oil pressure – like camshaft phasers and variable valve timing – to function correctly.

[autoscandia]

Optimal Performance: Expert Mercedes Tire Alignment in Herndon

Maintaining optimal performance and safety in your Mercedes requires attention to every detail, including proper tire alignment. At our Herndon location, we offer expert Mercedes tire alignment services designed to enhance your driving experience and ensure the longevity of your tires. With skilled technicians, advanced equipment, and a commitment to excellence, we are dedicated to delivering the highest level of service to our valued customers.

Importance of Expert Mercedes Tire Alignment

Expert Mercedes tire alignment is essential for several reasons. Firstly, it ensures precise handling and responsiveness, allowing you to navigate the roads with confidence. By aligning your tires correctly, you'll experience improved stability, enhanced control, and a smoother ride. Secondly, proper alignment promotes even tire wear, preventing premature wear on the edges or center of the tires and extending their lifespan. This not only saves you money but also reduces the frequency of tire replacements.

Our Expert Tire Alignment Services

When you choose our services, you can expect nothing less than excellence. Our facility is equipped with state-of-the-art alignment equipment, allowing our skilled technicians to accurately measure your vehicle's alignment angles. They possess extensive experience in Mercedes tire alignment, ensuring that your vehicle receives the precise adjustments needed for optimal performance. We meticulously inspect your tire condition and alignment angles, providing a comprehensive service that meets the specific requirements of your Mercedes model.

Benefits of Mercedes Tire Alignment in Herndon

Optimizing your Mercedes' tire alignment offers a range of benefits. Firstly, you'll experience smoother and more comfortable rides, regardless of the road conditions. Proper alignment reduces vibrations and noise, providing a quieter driving experience. Secondly, improved alignment enhances traction and grip, allowing for better handling and control in all weather conditions. Whether you're navigating wet roads or sharp turns, you can trust that your Mercedes will respond precisely to your commands. Additionally, accurate alignment contributes to increased stability and control during braking and cornering, enhancing both safety and performance on the road.

Customer Satisfaction and Convenience

At our Herndon location, customer satisfaction is our top priority. We understand the value of your time, which is why we strive to provide timely and efficient tire alignment services to suit your schedule. Our pricing is transparent and competitive, ensuring you receive excellent value for your investment without any hidden fees. To further enhance your peace of mind, we offer complimentary multi-point inspections, allowing us to identify and address any potential issues beyond tire alignment. Our friendly and knowledgeable staff is dedicated to providing exceptional customer service, ensuring that your experience with us is both pleasant and hassle-free.

Conclusion

When it comes to maintaining optimal performance, safety, and longevity for your Mercedes, tire alignment plays a crucial role. By choosing our expert Mercedes tire alignment services in Herndon, you're investing in the precision and expertise necessary to keep your vehicle in its best shape. Experience the benefits of improved handling, extended tire lifespan, and enhanced safety as you enjoy the road with confidence. Trust our skilled technicians and advanced equipment to deliver the quality service your Mercedes deserves.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Love Me A Little

Character: Secretary!Bucky x Female!Reader

Words: 1,539

Summary: "Love me, even just a little." When she uttered those words, they struck Bucky like a bolt of lightning, leaving him utterly bewildered. After all, he was just a secretary—his world and hers seemed galaxies apart.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

A/N: Check out the male version of this story - Be Mine.

It was already 1:00 a.m., and the streets lay deserted, easing Bucky's drive. The sleek black Bugatti smoothly entered the apartment basement car park. Just one more turn, and he would find his usual parking spot.

"Screech." The sound of tires screeching echoed in the empty basement.

"Huh?" Bucky's foot instinctively hit the brake as he caught sight of the familiar figure standing in front of his car.

"Y/N?"

It's you. The sole daughter of the Rogers family, the heiress to Starlight Enterprises, a conglomerate spanning oil and gas, telecom, retail, and financial services.

You had fled, prompting the company to dispatch security teams in search of you.

And here you were.

Bucky stepped out of the car. "What are you doing? Don't you realize everyone's been searching for you?"

You scoffed, your tone laced with defiance. "So what? At least everyone will learn that I'm serious. I refuse to marry that guy."

Bucky understood the depth of your frustration. Your family was orchestrating an engagement between you and their business partner. But you vehemently opposed it. He comprehended why; the man they wanted you to marry was notorious—a playboy and a drug addict.

Unable to sway your resolve, Bucky carefully chose his words. "You should go home."

He reached out, gently clasping your hand, his touch pleading, wanting to guide you to safety.

But you recoiled, pushing his hand away. "I don't want to."

Bucky's heart sank, his expression pained. "Your family is worried about you."

Your retort was sharp, cutting. "Are they really? Or are they just afraid of losing their golden ticket?"

A tense silence enveloped them as Bucky grappled with the weight of your words. As the secretary to your brother, Steve, the Vice President, he was privy to the inner workings of wealthy families, aware that most marriages were arranged for business purposes.

Like Steve and Peggy, who defied the odds and found happiness together despite the pressures of their world, you refused to succumb to a loveless marriage.

With teary eyes, you gazed at Bucky, desperation etched in every tear. "I'll tell my parents I'll marry you instead."

Bucky sighed, feeling the weight of your request once more. You had asked him this before, seeking refuge from the loveless future awaiting you. Each time, he had declined.

"Not everything will always go your way," he murmured, his words heavy with resignation. "You've been living in a bubble as Princess Rogers." He paused, unable to bring himself to utter the name of your family's empire. "Now you're facing reality."

You fought back the tears, stung by his harshness. It was the first time Bucky had spoken so coldly to you. "Do you think my feelings for you are fake?"

"My whole life has been arranged from A to Z without my opinion," you continued, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"The only thing I have is my dream of us living happily ever after. Can I at least have that?" Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Stop dreaming. Go home," Bucky commanded, his voice firm as he pointed behind you.

'Screech.'

With a screech of tires, a white Mercedes arrived to collect you. It dawned on you that Bucky had already informed the security team of your whereabouts.

As you watched Bucky walk away, a surge of determination washed over you. Clenching your fists, you whispered, "I'll show you."

########

A few days later

The entire Rogers family had gathered for tonight's dinner, including your grandparents, Thomas Rogers, the esteemed founder of the company. Bucky joined the dinner as well, having become one of the company's key figures, seated right beside you.

Despite the gravity of your previous conversation, you seemed to have put it aside, acting as if nothing had happened when you saw Bucky.

The dinner unfolded in its usual extravagant manner, with everyone engaging in polite small talk until dessert was served.

Your grandmother, Anna, broke the silence. "It's wonderful that we could all come together like this. We must discuss our youngest's engagement."

Your mother, Sophia, nodded, her smile gentle. "I met with them four days ago, and we've already ironed out all the details, from the church to the wedding."

Bucky's mind raced. Four days ago? That's precisely when you had gone missing.

Anna's excitement bubbled over. "This wedding will be magnificent. I can hardly contain myself."

But only the two women seemed enthused; your grandfather, Thomas, and your father, Benjamin, remained stoic, while your brother Steve stayed silent.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the air—a sharp "clank" as a fork stabbed into a plate.

All eyes turned to you.

"I don't like it," you stated flatly, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Sophia's hand hesitated mid-air, poised to call the waitress, but froze when she heard her daughter's words.

"I don't like anything," you continued, your voice ringing with defiance. "I don't like that person, the wedding, anything."

"Y/N, stop," Sophia interjected, her tone tinged with frustration. "We've discussed this."

"Discuss?" you retorted bitterly. "Do you mean when you ignore my words?"

Anna's patience wore thin. "Y/N, enough with the tantrum. This concerns the entire family."

You crossed your arms defiantly. "I refuse to marry him."

Anna rose from her seat, ready to reprimand you, but a sharp glance from Thomas halted her in her tracks. Without a word, she sank back down, chastened by her husband silent command.

Thomas fixed you with a steady gaze, the same gaze that had once spoiled you as his beloved granddaughter. "Explain to me the reason why."

"I don't love him," you declared, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love someone else."

A sudden palpitation coursed through Bucky's chest. He sensed the situation spiraling out of control.

"Whose the person you love?" Thomas inquired, his voice firm.

You didn't hesitate. "Bucky."

'Ba-dump'

The room fell into stunned silence, broken only by the rapid thudding of Bucky's heart echoing in his ears, his mind racing as he grappled with the revelation unfolding before him.

Bucky rose hastily, his intention to apologize to the Chairman halted as your hand clasped his, the determination in your eyes stopping him in his tracks. It was the first time he had seen you like this, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

As all eyes turned towards you, you swallowed hard before speaking up. "And I'm pregnant. Bucky is the father."

The room erupted in chaos as Sophia and Anna screamed in unison.

"What?" they exclaimed in disbelief.

"Bucky! How dare you touch my daughter!" Sophia lunged forward, her hand reaching for Bucky's hair, but Benjamin intervened, restraining her.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest and deny the accusation, but the words stuck in his throat. He was taken by surprise, too.

"Silence," Thomas, the Chairman's authoritative voice, cut through the commotion, bringing an abrupt end to the chaos.

He rose from his seat, followed by Benjamin and Steve, their expressions a mix of shock and concern.

Fixing Bucky with a steely gaze, Thomas uttered just two words. "A word."

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he replied, "Yes, Sir," bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation.

########

In Benjamin's office, Bucky stood before the three men, the weight of their scrutiny heavy upon him as they remained silent. Finally, Thomas broke the tension with a direct question. "Is everything true?"

Bucky knelt before his boss and friend, his voice steady but his heart pounding. "No, sir. None of it is true. I've never laid a hand on her."

Thomas's expression softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Good."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, grateful for Thomas's understanding.

But then Benjamin spoke up, his tone contemplative. "Then why don't you like my daughter?"

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted his head to meet Benjamin's gaze.

"She's better off with you than with that spoiled man," Steve interjected, his voice firm.

Benjamin nodded in agreement, his eyes holding a hint of understanding.

Bucky was taken aback. "What?"

Thomas leaned forward, his voice grave. "The wedding arrangement was orchestrated by my wife and Y/N's mother. I'm relieved my granddaughter took a stand today."

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "I nearly lost my cool when she said she was pregnant. I almost punched you. Thank goodness it was a lie."

Bucky struggled to find words, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.

Steve's tone softened. "Stay with her. I won't allow my sister to marry that man."

As the men continued their discussion, Bucky's mind raced, unable to fully comprehend the depth of their support.

Excusing himself, Bucky closed the door behind him, only to find you waiting for him outside.

Your worried expression melted his defenses as you approached him.

"What did they say?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

Bucky hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing."

You breathed a sigh of relief and pulled him into a tight hug, his body stiffening like a log. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, determination flashed in your eyes.

"I'll make you love me," you vowed softly. "Even just a little."

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[totothewolff]

📁 MASTERLIST / MY WORKS 👤 Other profiles: AO3 | Discord | Wattpad

└ 📁[📚Multi-chapters][⏳Long read]

Season of Love

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨Toto x reader(fem team principal)][💘Romance][🥵Smut][😂Comedy][😪Drama][🏎F1 World/Races/Teams/Paddock][✍️WIP][⏳Long read]

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are. 📁 Masterlist: └📁 Dances with Wolff Arc I └📁 1 Engines on and hearts off └📁 2 Lights out, and away your feelings go └📁 3 Can you feel the traction? └📁 4 No brakes, just love └📁 5 Cold tires, warm heart └📁 6 Collision at Turn "Your Heart" └📁 The Color of Truth is Blue Arc └📁 7 Red flagsss └📁 8 Safety car needed └📁 The Sebaffäre Arc └📁 9 Laps of Truth └📁 10 Finding Our Grip └📁 11 Crashed Dreams └📁 Love Lies, Miss Normani Arc └📁 └📁 Dances with Wolff Arc II └📁 12 Refueling Love └📁 13 Uniting for the Win └📁 14 Sprint Finish └📁 15 Victory Lap

Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto x reader(fem service staff)][💘 Romance][🥵Smut][🎀 Age-gap][❤️‍🔥Daddy Kink][🛳Yacht Culture][✍️WIP][⏳Long read]

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver.  The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire��livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. 📁 Collection: └📁 1 Dark But Just A Game └📁 2 Breaking Up Slowly └📁 3 Not All Who Wander Are Lost └📁 4 Dance Till We Die └📁 5 White Dress └📁 6 Let Me Love You Like a Woman

Grand Prix Elite Academy

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto(professor) x reader(student, future F1 driver)][👨‍❤️‍👨Lewis x Seb][💘Romance][🥵Smut][🎀Age-gap][❤️‍🔥Wild parties][🏫College AU][🌈Queer/Fem Seb][✍️WIP][⏳Long read]

Summary: Your life turns 180 degrees after receiving your acceptance letter for the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the most exclusive and prestigious Formula One College, designed to shape the future drivers of the motorsport world. You will try to navigate your new life among the Monaco elites, survive the campus dynamics and rivalries between the faculties, and try to win this year's Elite Cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes, all while befriending your eclectic classmates, join the wild parties, have a couple of make-outs under the racing circuit benches, lose your v-card and get over that stupid crush you have on professor Toto. Will you make it alive to graduation? Race to Greatness! Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fic set in an elite academy in Monaco, where the F1 Teams are Faculties, their Team Principals are professors, the FIA is the college board, and all the grid drivers are your classmates. You are accepted under a scholarship program called WomenOne and have lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold. Becoming the outcast new girl is always challenging, especially when all of you live on one campus. 📁 Masterlist: └📁 1 Hi, Society! └📁 2 Gone With The Wolff └📁 3 Know Your Frenemies └📁 4 The Kids Are Not Alright └📁 5 The Twat and the Furious └📁 6 Panic Roomate └📁 7 Easy Y/N └📁 8 War of the Rosbergs └📁 9 …Baby? One More Time! └📁 10 She Wolff

[📚One-shots]

I'll Be Home for Christmas

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto x reader][🥵Smut][❤️‍🔥Mild BDSM][👄Dom/Sub][🎄Christmas][💫Short read]

Summary: Toto asks you in between ravenous kisses if you truly want him, even with his busy schedule, fast-paced life, countless nights miles away, and his dominant trait, the one you love to be submissive to, by saying yes you didn't expect it to be this hard! This particular season felt eternal, and you only desire to have him back, wrapped as the world's most alluring Christmas gift on your bed if possible. └📁 One-shot

Sparks Fly

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto x reader][🥵Smut][❤️‍🔥Daddy Kink][🎆New Years][💫Short read]

Summary: Toto is ready to leave his shitty 2023 behind and start 2024 in the best way possible, and you don't want to spend another New Year's Eve all by yourself; it's like destiny and the universe conspired to bring you two together. └📁 One-shot

The Lonely Hearts Party

[👩‍❤️‍👨Toto(boss) x reader(fem merc employee)][💘Romance][😊Fluff] [😂Comedy][🗄Corporate Mercedes][💝Valentine's Day][⏳Long read]

Summary: For weeks now, you have been receiving the most gorgeous flowers every Wednesday morning at your desk at the Brackley Headquarters, as a mysterious admirer seems so in love with you. The entire factory, your besties at work, and you all wonder who he is. Could it be the one you truly wish for? └📁 One-shot

The Big Slip

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨Toto x reader (fem middle class artist)][💘Romance][🥵Smut][😪Drama][🕵️‍♂️Secret Identity][💸Social gap][🪐AU][⏳Long read]

Summary: Your life as a struggling arts graduate in Monaco, coming from a working-class family who lives on the outskirts, is about to change. Toto Wolff enters your life not only by giving you the best sex ever but also by making you love somebody for the first time. Arranged marriages, a horrible breakup, and an induced coma, plus his terrible parents, were a complete surprise. └📁 One-shot

The Speed Game of Love

[👩‍❤️‍👨Toto x reader(fem contestant)][💘Romance][😂Comedy][🪐AU][🤪Crack humor][🌈RuPaul's Drag Race][💫Short read]

Summary: Three fierce queens will race for your love, but only one will win your heart. Could it be the spicy Carla LaTurbo Slayz, the fierce Adore D. Hammer, or the queen of England herself, GiGi Reigns? Or maybe that sexy host could get some! Hosted by the hot and only Toto Wolff. └📁 One-shot

Daddy's Little Pet

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto x reader(journalist)][🥵Smut][❤️‍🔥Daddy Kink][🎀Size Kink][👄Power play][💫Short read]

Summary: You had come to Brackley expecting a generic interview, not a deep dive into Toto's lovemaking life. └📁 One-shot

[🚎Coming soon...][✍️WIPs]

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

It’s Murder on the Garagefloor

[👩‍❤️‍👨Toto (boss) x reader(fem Merc employee)][💘Romance][😂Comedy][🪐AU][🤪Crack humor][👻Mystery][⏳Long read][🧩Clue]

Summary: His wife, one of his drivers, an engineer, his mentor, and you (Toto's assistant) all look at the body on the floor. Is the boss really gone? Loose inside this locked garage is the murderer. Who of you killed Toto Wolff? And why?

A mile-an-hour

[👩‍❤️‍👨Toto (boss) x reader(fem Merc employee)][💘Romance][😂Comedy][🪐AU][🤪Crack humor][🗄The Office][⏳Long read]

Summary: Getting hired on the Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team from the thousands of applicants seemed like the pinnacle of your career and a privilege. Such a prestigious and life-changing opportunity until you arrive there… Smoke is flooding the garage, Lewis is dressed exactly like George in casual clothing for some reason, and Niki is playing sad Taylor Swift songs on the piano. At the same time, engineers try to catch a loose Roscoe throwing stuff everywhere. Why is even a piano in here?! Ah! And you almost forgot, Toto Wolff is crying inside his office.

Fast Car

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto (young f1 driver) x reader(fem f1 driver)][🥵Smut][💔Past lovers][☔️Pinning][🏎Team dynamics][☠️Toxic love][👹Make up and angrey sex][👄Power play][⏳Long read]

There was a time when he used to be your everything. Since childhood, you two shared a dream of one day becoming F1 drivers. Miles away from your families, you grew up only having each other, racing and experiencing life side by side. The short step from friends to lovers left natural, but the following step from F1 drivers to enemies deeply scarred you. When your ambitious team offers Toto the open seat, well aware of his reckless and wild reputation, you wonder if the sweet guy you fell in love with is still hiding inside that ruthless, don juan, cold-hearted two-time world champion. It's going to be a hell of a season for you.

Cursed to Love

[🗯+18][👨‍❤️‍👨 Lewis (Witch) x Sebastian (Human)][💘Romance][🥵Smut][🧙Fantasy][🌠Epic][🔮Lore][🩸Horror/War/Violence][🛖Period Piece][😪Drama][☔️Pinning][📿Soul mates][🪐AU][🌈Queer][✍️WIP][⏳Long read]

Summary: Lewis' birth was prophetized by the whispers of the leaves, a long-awaited moment by his tribe, eager to welcome the future leader of their motherlands. Yet destiny had unforeseen plans for him. Hidden in the darkest of the forest amid the horrors of the night their tales will call "The Great Devastation", cursed since his first breath with a heart tethered to a human soulmate in a chain he won't be able to break, bond by blood and magic to a love so pure, it will leave his body to ache, a cruel enchantment that simply won't fade away.

[coco-loco-nut]

High Flyer - Part 4

pairing: charles x reader

summary: victory never tasted so sweet

masterlist series masterlist requests open

———————————

The sunset beams in your face as you walk through the paddock in Qatar. Charles follows close behind, embracing his position as full-time WAG. As soon as you get to your drivers room, you collapse on the couch. Free practice and the sprint have been fine, but now you need to lock in for Qualifying and the race.

You have a comfortable lead in the championship, but that’s all that you are being asked about and it’s tiring. It’s clear to anyone that you’ve encountered that you don’t want to talk. You are in an odd mood, normally you are great with the media.

“What’s on your mind?” Charles asks, pulling you into his arms. You lean into him, relaxing a little but the tension is still there.

You shake your head, not ready to talk about it. Admiting what you are feeling makes you a weak driver, and you can’t be that. Not as a woman. Charles knows you are nervous, so he doesn’t push it. Instead, he rubs small circles on your back, letting the silence in the room provide comfort as your mind races.

“It feels different,” you say, fighting the block in your head that is screaming at you to keep it in. Charles’ hand moves from your back to the back of your neck. Holding you close, he doesn’t reply, but a small hum tells you that you have his attention. You swallow your pride a little more as the subtle encouragement helps you open up. Your voice shakes as you speak, everything suddenly more real. “My nerves are almost paralyzing. I don’t want to get in the car.”

Charles takes a second to consider his response, wanting to make sure you are supported and he says the right thing.

“You are under a lot of stress and pressure, it’s okay to be nervous. You are so close to what you’ve been working for, and you aren’t alone in your fight for it,” Charles says gently, carefully. “You have a whole team, you have me, you have your grid family and your real life family. We are all here for you no matter what happens this week,” Charles feels his heart swell as the tension slowly leaves you, melting into his arms.

“Thank you,” you whisper, tears threatening to escape your eyes. You know he’s seen the articles and quotes regarding your championship fight, he knows the pressure that is on you.

Charles pulls away slightly to get a good look at you. He brushes away an escaped tear, eyes searching yours as he tries to read you.

“You can do this, all you need to do is drive, as easy as breathing for you,” Charles’ reassurance helps you gain confidence.

“Stay with me until I get into the car,” you make him promise you.

“Of course,” Charles’ heart hurts at the thought of you going through this alone. If he hadn’t been honorably discharged and returned to service, how would you find the strength to leave the safety of your room? What scares him more is the idea that you have been in the same situation before and had to deal with it alone.

He watches in admiration at how you are able to get in the zone as you change into your race suit. Charles holds your hand the entire walk to the garage, both of you close as you quietly converse.

Kimi is the only one who interrupts you on the walk, heading to the Mercedes garage himself.

“Good luck, mom,” Kimi hugs you. He has had a great start thanks to you and George, but he isn’t close to you in the standings at all.

“Thanks, Kimi, drive safe,” you hug him back, squeezing tight. You shouldn’t choose favorite children, but the young Italian has slowly wormed his way to being a contender for that top spot. Fans love to speculate who is your favorite grid child. Charles pats Kimi on the back, a small encouragement.

Charles stays with you as you talk to engineers and helps you get ready to get into the car. You stand in the corner of the garage with your gear.

“You are going to do so well,” Charles whispers, his forehead against yours. You tilt your head up, stealing a quick kiss before you put your balaclava and helmet on.

You make it through Q3 easily, starting at P2 on the grid. Charles watches anxiously as the race winds down. The excitement in the garage is palpable. With Oscar behind in P3 and no good chance to overtake you, all you need to do is cross the finish line. Max is in P1, but by bringing the car home you will take the victory.

“She’s incredible,” Arthur says, the cautious optimism as the checkered flag is waving. You have just one more turn as you go through turn 15.

“She did it!” Charles cheers as you cross the line, hugging Arthur who then pulls him with the team to greet you at the barriers.

Your hands shake as you stop the car, sitting in the realization that you’ve accomplished your dream. Once Max has stood atop his car and celebrated, you climb out of yours and carefully balance on top as you celebrate. The roar of the crowd courses through you.

A lot of pressure was on your drive and you couldn’t be more proud. You secured a four-year contract extension with your win and you showed girls that they can succeed.

The air is electric as you jump into your team after getting weighed. You give as many hugs as you can before you go back to drop your equipment. The first person you go to once you get back to the barrier is Charles.

“Thank you for believing in me,” you say before embracing him. Charles holds you tight.

“Always, mon ange,” he grins, pulling you into a kiss. Charles wipes the tears of joy away, letting the team celebrate with you before other drivers steal you for congratulations and other duties.

The interviewer asks questions that you are happy to answer, for once.

“I have so many people to thank. My family, my husband, my grid kids, but most importantly my team. My team has helped me every step of the way and never got discouraged when we finished second in the championship. It’s why I’m so glad that I will be staying with them,” you grin, the cheers from your team filling the paddock. The podium fake champagne never tasted so sweet.

Since you couldn’t properly celebrate in Qatar, Ferrari took the liberty of renting a club not too far from the factory once you returned. It is safe to say that many of the team walked from the club to the factory the next morning, including you.

The following year you made sure to win it in Brazil while also winning the grand prix.

“Congratulations, champ. No one else I’d rather lose the number one to for a second time,” Max shakes your hand, you pull him into a hug as you stand near the bar.

“No one else I’d rather battle. Do you ever feel like we are getting a little old?” you ask, looking at your grid kids dancing and drowning shots like you and Max used to.

“We can still out drink them, we just pace ourselves better now. We also still have many years left of driving to terrorize them,” he pats your shoulder.

“And if this is the last time we are the ones fighting for the title?”

“It always happens this way, they are the next generation. We will be their Fernando’s,” Max smiles at the thought of the grid grandfather and eternal rookie. Fernando just announced his retirement, for good this time, and it’s made many of you stop and think.

“To us. May our livers and racing spirit never die,” you toast, one Max happily returns.

“Sorry to cut in, but I would like to dance with my wife and champion,” Charles steals you away, bringing you back to the floor.

“Charles,” you laugh as he pulls you away.

“Sorry, you just look too good and I had to keep you to myself,” his voice drops a little bit as the lights flash around you. Your Ferrari red minidress hugs your figure just right. It looks stunning in photos as well. You paired it with a white very fluffy coat, which is currently stored in coat check, and matching red heels.

“Stop or else I’ll have to take you home,” you reply, painted red lips brushing his ear.

“You know I am always on board for that, but we are here celebrating you,” Charles replies, clearly restraining himself. Unfortunately for him, your restraint left two drinks ago.

“I’d rather be back at the hotel celebrating, you can celebrate me all night long,” your hips grind against Charles who lets out a soft groan.

“Fuck, I need another drink,” he steps back while he still can stop himself. “Mon amour, you drive me crazy,” he says, kissing you passionately yet briefly before heading to the bar.

You drift to where your grid family is dancing. Ollie grabs your hand, spinning you around a little awkwardly. Your joyful laugh encourages them.

“No mate, you dance like a teenager,” Kimi shakes his head, taking your hands and pulling you to a close yet respectful distance.

“I think you all need to learn how to dance,” you shake your head with a slight laugh.

“I’m here,” Arthur is being carefully followed by a server holding a tray of shots.

“You aren’t Australian, but you could do a shoey,” Oscar says as he hands you a shot from the tray.

“I could, but I don’t have a shoe for it,” you smile, waiting for someone to toast the shot.

“I’ll give you mine, someone get a beer,” Jack says after taking the shot, the server promptly bringing back a beer.

“Hold on,” Ollie and Kimi say almost in unison as they debate who is filming you. Jack slides off a shoe as he takes the open beer. Oscar helps you stand on a table.

“We are good,” Ollie smiles, both him and Kimi’s phones pointed at you. Kimi is taking a video while Ollie takes pictures. Jack hands you his beer filled shoe as the crowd gathers around.

You hold the shoe up in the air before bringing it to your lips. The cold beer goes down quick, helping your buzz grow. The crowd cheers as you pull it away, turning the crisp white shoe upside down to show it is all empty. Oscar and Arthur help you down as Jack puts the shoe back on.

“That’s my mother,” Ollie cheers, high fiving you. Carlos approaches with two drinks in his hand, extending the one to you.

“Not that you need it after chugging a whole shoe of beer, but I told you I’d buy you one,” Carlos laughs as you take a sip.

“Much better than shoe beer,” you grin, quickly turning to Jack who is standing upright. “Thanks for the shoe,” you give him a little salute as you begin to follow Carlos to the drivers your age. As you cross the floor, you chug the drink, a slight burn as it goes down.

“A shoey? I appreciate my legacy being kept alive,” an Australian accent greets you and you perk up.

“Danny!” you slur as you practically jump onto the man.

“Hey, careful. I’m not as young as I used to be,” he laughs, letting you down gently.

You talk for another fifteen minutes and do another round of shots before finding Charles, in the mood to dance. He is chatting with Pierre and you don’t bother cutting in politely. Rather, you grab Charles’ arm as Kika and Pierre laugh at your startled husband.

Charles holds you close, his warm hands resting on the small of your back, threatening to dip lower.

“How are you doing, mon ange?” Charles asks, his small smile lit up by the flashing lights.

“I’m doing great, need you,” you slur, the alcohol and lateness hitting you. It’s late enough that you could go home and no one would bat an eye. You’ve talked to everyone here and

“Wanna get out of here?” Charles eyes darken as you press against him. One nod and he sweeps you off your feet, your head resting against his shoulder.

“Want me to call you an Uber?” Arthur asks as Charles walks past him.

“Please,” Arthur gives a thumbs up, so Charles continues to the coat check. Charles sets you down so you can get your coat.

“Sleep well,” Arthur hugs both of you before you leave to get in the Uber.

Keeping your hands to yourselves for the ten minute ride was possibly the hardest thing you have ever done, but as soon as the hotel suite door is closed, Charles is all over you.

“I’ve been wanting to take this dress off of you all night,” Charles growls, nipping your bottom lip.

“Then take it off,” you gasp. As soon as your clothes are off, Charles rolls off of you. You watch as he stumbles slightly to the suitcase in the corner.

“Where are the-“

“Didn’t pack any. I’m world champion, aren’t I?” the tone of your voice brings him back to you. His hands run up your arms, pinning them above your head.

“God I love you,”

It isn’t too much of a shock when soon after Abu Dhabi and the prize ceremony that you find yourself hugging the toilet.

“You okay?” Charles asks, rubbing you back.

“I gotta call Fred,” you groan. Charles places your phone in your outstretched hand.

“Y/n, what a surprise. How’s your break going?” Fred sounds concerned over the phone,

“It’s going well,” you look at Charles who just gives you a supportive thumbs up. “Listen Fred,” you feel bile rise in your throat and shove to phone to Charles who quickly takes it and steps out so Fred doesn’t hear you puke.

“Y/n?”

“Hey Fred. What she was about to say is that you will need to find another driver for next season,” Charles says awkwardly.

“Ah, congratulations. Why don’t you have her set up a meeting with me in a few weeks and we can discuss it further? Assure Y/n that we will make sure she has a seat next season, Charles,” Fred says, sounding genuine in his promise.

“Thank you, I’ll let her know,” Charles hangs up.

“I never thought the first person I would tell would be Fred,” you groan, head leaning against a cabinet.

“Neither did I. He sends his congratulations. He also wants you to set up a meeting in a few weeks to talk about it, but he assured me that you still have your seat once you return,” Charles says, helping you stand up and return to bed.

“They couldn’t lose their champion that easy,”

“No,” Charles agrees.

The meeting is scheduled and goes well. It was to simply cover how the absence will be announced and how your contract will be renegotiated.

You and Charles decide to host a small holiday party for your grid family right after the new year. You set up a small camera in the living room and make sure it’s recording.

“Presents? Finally,” Arthur practically runs to sit beside the tree, competing with Ollie to see who gets there the fastest. Charles notices how you subconsciously put a hand on your lower stomach and smile.

“Pass them out first,” you chide, sitting beside Charles once all the boys are seated. Arthur passes out the seven identical boxes to their labeled recipient after passing everything else out.

“We are supposed to open these at the same time, no?” Carlos asks, you just nod. The sound of paper tearing fills the room as your grid family opens their boxes.

“Best grid uncle?” Max asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Big brother- OH MY GOD!” Ollie scrambles to his feet to hug you. You can’t help but laugh. Arthur is crying tears of joy on the floor.

“No way I’m the baby’s nephew,” Jack stares at the shirt.

“If I’m the brother, that makes you the nephew,” Oscar pats Jack’s shoulder.

“Wait, you won’t be driving next season?” Kimi asks, his joy replaced with sadness.

“Oh, I’ll be around. Charles can’t keep me away that easily,” your loving smile betrays your words.

“Who’s replacing you?” Arthur asks the question that’s lingering in the air.

“I don’t know, I asked Fred to wait to ask someone until I told you all,” you shrug.

“I’m so happy for you,” Carlos smiles, already planning what gifts he will be getting you.

“Thank you, don’t get too comfortable without me,” you hug your teammate.

It only takes a day for the news to break.

instagram

f1 Breaking: Reigning Champion Y/n Leclerc will not compete in the 2027 season according to Ferrari. More information on our website.

user23 she looked really sick during the prize ceremony, hope everything is okay!

user893 hopefully she returns in 2028!

user31 this is why women shouldn’t drive

scuderiaferrari we are very happy with her as our CHAMPION driver, and we anxiously await her return.

user6 you tell that man, Ferrari

Much to yours and Charles’ delight, Arthur gets offered the opportunity to take your seat for the season. You threatened him to do well or else he will never meet his niece or nephew, but in reality you just want him to succeed so that he gets the chance to race for another team next season when you return.

No one sees you out in public, you and Charles stay home or go places privately. You didn’t post an announcement that you are expecting, instead you left Ferrari state you are taking a temporary medical leave. It’s a nice change of pace. It’s also definitively the longest time the two of you have spent together, and you haven’t driven each other mad. It all changes in May though.

Imola is the perfect place to make your return to the Paddock. You are entering your third trimester and you want to make at least one paddock appearance before you are miserably pregnant.

“Are you sure? We can turn around if you want to,” Charles asks as he parks your Ferrari Roma.

“Do you not want my fans to see what you have done to me?” you tease, hand resting on the baby bump.

“They will hate me for taking away their champion,” Charles grins, clearly not fussed about it.

“It’s okay, we have future champions in the making, made from a championship,” you wink, causing Charles to blush. You think that when you return to racing again, you will have separation anxiety from him. Spending most of your time together has become your normal, and you wouldn’t change it.

“Well, let’s show our little champions off,” you smile. Charles gets out first, quickly rounding the car to help you out. Ferrari sent out a hospitality intern to escort both of you into the paddock. Luckily for you, no cameras notice you in your red dress and Ferrari jacket as you make your way to hospitality. The media is too busy hounding other celebrities here for the race.

“You made it!” Arthur quickly moves to greet you.

“Wow, nothing for your own brother? I see how it is,” Charles shakes his head.

“There she is,” your race engineer greets you with a warm hug.

“Wait until the cameras see me,” you smile, showing off your swollen belly.

“Wait until they see the maternity pictures you just took,” Charles interjects, opening his phone to share.

You had your racing overalls on with a white top, it really turned out nice. It also led to great sex, but no one can tell from the photos. It would be a different story if you had your fireproofs on.

“You’re back!” Ollie runs in, Kimi not too far behind. You assume that Arthur sent out a text letting people know you are here.

“You look great, taking time off from racing is doing you well,” Kimi is quick to hug you. He misses your hugs and cuddles when you aren’t in the paddock. He hates not being able to crash your couch and rant while you play with his curls and offer advice and support. Of all your grid children, Kimi is your baby and he knows it.

Ollie does similar things, which is why they are your twins. Oscar tends to call you or text you when needing advice or a friend, but he has Mark and Jack. Speaking of Jack, he doesn’t usually utilize you like Ollie and Kimi do, but he never turns down your home cooked meals or dinner invites. For him, knowing you are there for support is enough.

“Thank you, Kimi,” you say, straightening his collar as he pulls away. Arthur and Charles are deep in conversation off to the side of the garage.

“Are you excited to be on this side of things?” Ollie asks, vying for your attention.

“I haven’t been on this side since I was in F2. I’ll be so stressed watching you two. My twins,” you want to reach out and pinch their cheeks, they look so cute with their grins. The pregnancy hormones may be starting to get to you.

“Just remember that we, the twins, were here first,” Ollies eyes dart down to where your hand is resting and back up to your face. He notes the small smile on your face.

“Twins?” Ollie asks, eyes wide with excitement.

You nod, smile growing with pride. “Yeah, exciting isn’t it,” there is a lightness to your voice, almost laughing.

“You can create a team for them. Can we take them karting?” Kimi asks, excited at the idea. Your laugh rings through hospitality, catching the eyes of your team.

“Kimi, they haven’t even been born yet, give it a few years at least,” you remind him.

“A few years until what?” Charles sneaks up behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. His arms wrap around you, letting you lean into his chest.

“Until we can take the twins karting,” Ollie answers.

“That will be my job as the biological uncle,” Arther frowns.

“None of you are taking my kids karting until I take them karting,” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Arthur, time to go to the garage,” Carlos enters the room, not looking up from his phone.

“Is it really?” as soon as you speak Carlos looks up, eyes widened in a mixture of shock and happiness.

“Amiga, I heard you were coming to visit but I didn’t know when,” Carlos crosses the room quickly, the garage report all but forgotten.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you smile as you step out of Charles’ arms to give the Spaniard a hug.

“You should join us in the garage,” Carlos insists.

“You go, I’ll stay here for a bit so you can catch up,” Charles smiles, not bothered.

“We will see you later,” Kimi waves goodbye as he and Ollie leave. They don’t want to get accused of spying, even if they were only in Ferrari to see you.

You are sandwiched between Arthur and Carlos as you step out of Ferrari, the warm May air greeting you with a pleasant breeze.

“Aren’t you worried the press will see you?” Arthur asks, a little protective as he glances around the paddock.

“If I were worried, I wouldn’t be here. Now, which one of you is going to win so I can sing the Italian National Anthem with the Tifosi,” you grin, looping your arms through theirs.

“Me, of course,” Carlos states. You hear a camera shudder as you get closer to the garage and know it’s only a matter of time before your secret is out. The Ferrari social media team has already taken plenty of pictures and videos of your return.

“You better keep the promise. I expect a 1-2 and nothing less,” you insist, adding a second thought, “and a repeat at Monza.”

“You ask a lot, dear sister, but I think we can do it,” Arthur laughs. He’s done a great job to start the season and you’ve been hoping he signs for someone next season.

“Good,” you listen to the two boys converse with a small smile on your face. You can’t lie and say you did not miss it. The three of you get stopped by drivers a few times before reaching the garage, simply wanting to say hello and check in with you.

“My star driver,” Fred greets you jovially. The whirring of the machines seem to pause as your presence is recognized in the garage.

“Hello, Fred. Miss me much?” you grin.

“Of course. You better be ready to return next season,” he says expectantly. For a moment you forgot he was your boss and not an old friend. Your cheeks slightly flush with embarrassment, wanting to end the awkward change in conversation tone.

“Yes, I’ve been staying active and working out as much and as safely as I can,” you state, your tone indicating that the conversation was over. You spend time talking with your engineers and mechanics, catching up on their lives and the season.

As the day progresses, you return to Hospitality where Charles awaits you. All you want to do is sit down, maybe take a nap, and have a snack. Your back hurts and your ankles are a bit swollen.

“How was the garage?” Charles asks, setting down the book he was reading.

“It was good, I caught up with the team,” you yawn as you sit on one of the very comfortable couches.

“I’ll go grab you a snack, why don’t you take a quick nap? There’s about half an hour before we need to go to the garage,” Charles suggests, reading your mind. You nod, feeling tired enough to doze off immediately.

About fifteen minutes later, Charles gently wakes you. You softly thank him as you take the plate of food, eating what you can quickly. Before you know it, Charles is walking to the garage with you. The team set up a folding chair and pillow so you can be more comfortable. Unfortunately for Charles, he has to stand.

You notice the camera on the screen enter the Ferrari garage, and before you have a moment to find where they are, you are on the screen. Charles stands beside you protectively, his right hand resting on your shoulder. You turn to the camera and wave, your PR smile in full force.

You can hear the roar of the Tifosi as you are on the screen, La Predestina being shouted out. It’s both heartwarming and a little embarrassing.

“Destiny,” Charles leans down, smile playing on his lips as he recalls the call sign you were given when the two of you first met.

“Perceval,” you reply, moving your hand so it can rest on Charles’. The embarrassment turned into pride, knowing how loved you are by the fans even if you aren’t racing at the moment.

You were instantly trending within the Formula One community. The news of your pregnancy and paddock return being celebrated by most fans. Of course there were some who wanted to use it against you, but you grew thick skin ages ago.

You find yourself swept up in a sea of red, cheering for the Ferrari 1-2 podium. Charles stands close to you, blocking you from the crowd with the help of your team.

“Still remember the words?” one of the engineers teases you in italian.

“A memoria,” you smile, happily linking arms with the team to sing out the anthem. It’s a weird sensation, being on the other side of the podium. You are grateful for how the team has included you in the weekend, but there is a pang of longing as you look at the podium. The tifosi should be cheering for you, it should be you standing with the medal around your neck looking out over the crowd.

Charles holds you close as you walk back to the garage, offering silent support. It didn’t take a genius to notice your longing stare.

“Can we go home,” you whisper in the car after having an early dinner with Arthur.

“Is everything okay?” Charles asks, starting the car. Concern fills his green eyes as he looks across the car, his hand lifting slightly from the gear stick. Your eyes are trained out the window, body angled slightly away. You don’t speak for a moment.

“I don’t know,” your voice is thick, tears sting at the corners of your eyes but don’t flow. Charles wants to push, but he doesn’t, knowing you will be unresponsive. He sets off back to France.

The ride is silent beyond the music playing and the sound of the road underneath the car. It doesn’t change when you get home, you both silently go through your nighttime routines. Charles attempts to get you to speak, but you don’t.

As you lay in bed, darkness surrounding you, Charles hears your soft cries. You do everything in your power to suppress it, but you can’t. Charles silently rolls towards you, reaching out to hold you and comfort you, but you just move away. You’ve had fights before, but this is different.

“Mon ange,” Charles whispers pleadingly but gets no answer. Neither of you know how you fell asleep.

Charles notices your silent avoidance of both him and the room your sim is set up in, your office. He catches your longing glances at it and your haste to look away when you realize. Around noon he gets fed up. He finds you sitting on the couch reading.

“Mon ange,” he says, trying to catch your attention, but you don’t look up. Your eyes remain trained on the book in your hands. You haven’t flipped the page in almost ten minutes. “Y/n,” Charles tries again, voice louder with irritation.

“What, Charles?” you slam the book down on the coffee table in front of you.

“Why are you ignoring me? One minute everything is fine and the next you are shut down,” he huffs, frustration and anger bubbling up.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine,” you brush it off, knowing it’s a lie.

“No, you aren’t. I notice things. Like how you didn’t do your morning workout, or how you’ve been avoiding your office. Why are you lying?” Charles steps closer to you, the tension in the room heightens with each step.

“I’m not lying!” Lie.

“You are, and you are avoiding me like I’m the problem,” you stand up as he speaks, grabbing your book, ready to relocate to a different part of the house.

“God, can’t a woman have a moment of peace? Be alone for a minute?” you cynically laugh, starting to walk away as Charles catches your arm.

“You don’t get to walk away. Not when this attitude is affecting everything,” Charles says, looking you in the eyes. Your eyes flicker from him to your office to your baby bump.

“I can’t talk about this right now,” your voice cracks as you gently pull your arm from Charles’s grasp. You leave the room in an uncomfortable silence. Charles plops down onto the couch, sighing with his head in his hands.

The two of you avoid each for a few more hours before guilt gnaws at both of you. Charles is once again the one to find you, bringing a cup of tea as a peace offering. You are on a swing, on the porch in your backyard. The fresh air helping to clear your mind as you gently rock back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” you beat him to the apology.

“I shouldn’t have instigated the fight, you clearly didn’t want to talk about it,” Charles shakes his head, setting the mug down beside you.

“And I shouldn’t have gaslit you. I just have a lot of feelings and I don’t know how to handle them. It’s all a bit embarrassing,” you pat the cushion next to you, inviting Charles to be the closest to you that he’s been since the race.

“You don’t have to talk about it yet if you don’t want to,” Charles follows your cues, he doesn’t want to chalk anything up to being pregnancy hormones. You nod, allowing a more comfortable silence to fill the air as you reacclimatize to his presence. There’s a part of you that wants to resist and be stubborn, but you can’t help but relax when he is close.

“I’m ashamed at the feelings I had during the podium and the spiral that came with it,” you say, fighting the urge to lock up again. Charles doesn’t reply, mainly because he isn’t sure what to say that will be a comfort.

After a few seconds you choose to elaborate. “I felt this resentment at the babies, even at you, for not being able to drive. Seeing the podium as a fan and not as the driver on the top step was hard,” saying it out loud makes you feel stupid, like you should know better.

“That’s natural. You never really grieved the loss of your passion, even if it is temporary,” Charles takes a tentative move towards you. He wraps his arms around you, breaking any lasting tension between you.

“I just feel so stupid,” you fight the tears welling up. That you can blame on your hormones.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” Charles grins, pressing a kiss to your hair. You can’t help but laugh, even as tears trickle down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair to blame you for my inability to drive,” you apologize again, linking your hand with his.

“Oh no, it is one hundred percent fair. I’m proud to be the reason that you can’t drive. Maybe repeating that reason will make you feel better?” Charles suggests, running his free hand up and down your body while lifting your linked hands to his lips.

“Charles!”

[russellsppttemplates]

So what about one of the girfriends not feeling well during the raceweeked but being stubborn about it. She ends up feeling really really poorly on race day and has to sit inside with some other wag inside hospitality or even be taken to the medical area for a bit. Maybe it's the heat or the jetlag idk,but driver ends up knowing about it after and he's worried, so he's taking care of her from them on and is grateful for their friends

Tw: sickness from heat stroke, medical visit

"I'm getting a coffee, Y/N, do you want something?", Carmen asked, "can you bring me a bottle of water, please? Cold, if possible", you asked her, seeing her nod as she got up. It was hot, that much you could say. Inside the hospitality, you were feeling okay, but the minute you set foot close to the garage, where the air outside was much more prominent, it was a different story. So, for now, you and Carmen were keeping yourselves indoor until the race started, having already wished good luck to both of your boyfriends on their race, hoping for a double Mercedes podium today.

"How did you convince Mick to let you watch the race here?", Carmen asked as she came back, handing you the cold bottle for you to place it on the nape of your neck, "I might've told him that I was fine, which I feel like I am", you said as the Spanish woman looked at you sternly, "fine-ish, but it's going to be okay, I just have to keep myself in a cooler spot, lots of water, maybe grab some ice from the catering", you joked.

Joking, however, didn't seem like such when about halfway through the race, you started having trouble in seeing the screen properly, even with your glasses on, "you're not feeling well, are you, Y/N?", Carmen asked as she got up, helping you to a cooler part of the garage, "I'm a bit dizzy", you admitted. After giving you some water and placing an ice pack on your neck and another to your wrists, you started feeling a little bit better even though you were still a bit weak.

"I think it's best if we go get you checked out", Carmen reasoned, "you're looking pale and flushed, and those two are never a good sign", she said, getting one of the media girls to help you to the medical tent hoping someone would just check if everything was fine.

"Y/N, have you been sleeping well?", the doctor asked after he took your temperature, "I've been travelling for work, and then I came here, so sleep hasn't been so easy", you clarified, "jet lag and this heat is a bad combination", he stated, "this is likely heat stroke, there's nothing else suggesting another situation, so rest up, lots of fluids, stay away from the sun as much as possible for the next few days and ice packs on your pressure and temperature points should help, too", he concluded as you nodded, thanking him.

"It looks like there might be some celebrations today, but I'd rather you stay in", he said as he showed you the final results, George and Mick getting a Mercedes 1-2 as they crossed the line.

Opting to stay in Mick's driver's room until after the podium, it didn't take long for your boyfriend to walk in, his trophy standing on Toto's counter as he checked you, "I heard what happened, are you okay?", he said, approaching you as Carmen stood back, looking for her boyfriend so she could congratulate him and give you two some privacy, "I'm fine, I just can't take the combination of hot temperatures and sleep deprivation", you smiled, hoping to soothe his worries.

Understandably, you and Mick passed on the team's dinner despite your insistence that Mick should go, "knowing Mick, he would eat very quickly and wait for the best and most polite time to come back to you, so he might as well just pass this one and we will all celebrate later when you feel better", Toto said as you smiled at his attentiveness.

"I have a bath, cool water, so we can wash the day away, I asked room service for something light for dinner and also a bucket of ice", he smiled as he helped you undress, "I know you're tired, but I promise you're going to feel better after this, liebling". Holding you with one arm under your knees and one around your back, Mick eased you into the bathtub before he got in, "don't think I won't scold you for letting me believe you were feeling better when you weren't. I'm just not going to do it now", he chuckled, kissing your shoulders as you snuggled closer to him, "thank you for looking after me", you whispered, "always, liebling, always".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[laura1633]

What makes me livid about this penalty is how freaking inconsistent these "stewards" are.

Doriane Pin drove another lap after the finish flag was shown -> DSQ

Lando Norris and George Russell (who, mind you, is one of the directors of the GPDA and should know the freaking rules to this sport very well) start an extra formation lap when it was CLEARLY an aborted start -> 5k to pay, should have been AT LEAST a drive through penalty or given the incident in the Academy, a DSQ. These guys have potentially endangered Marshalls who were on track to get rid of Stroll's car. But hey, monetary fine is everything they get. If Max did this...

Mercedes decides to adjust tire pressure in Brazil which usually leads to another DSQ -> monetary fine. Because hey, sadly they couldn't not DSQ George in Spa because his car was VERY underweight. Not another DSQ for him.

I'm usually not like this, but social media NEEDS to bully these stewards out of office. They are ruining the sport. Get professionals and PAY THEM not this voluntary stuff they're doing right now.

Red Bull should appeal this decision. They probably won’t seen as the championship is all tied up but it is an actual joke. I also want to see the stewards double down on the fact that driving unnecessarily slowly is now worthy of a 1 place grid penalty and a penalty point! So what happens next time someone does it?!

Nearly every driver was noted for not following the delta but none of them received a penalty! Plus the penalty point annoys me because they keep sneaking them in there!! You don’t even get a penalty point if you were actually impeding on a hot lap!

There is no doubt in my mind that had Max done what Lando did in Brazil he would have received a penalty point and a sporting penalty. It was dangerous given the conditions and what had just happened!!!

I am still celebrating that Max was fastest in quali and won the championship despite some very questionable calls from the stewards this year but he earned that pole position and the fact they took it away from him makes me sad!

It does very much look like it’s one rule for Max and another rule for everyone else. They made that clear with the community service for the swearing and they have made it even clearer now.

[noairaalex]

Germany has defended Israel at the International Court of Justice by rejecting South Africa’s accusation of a genocide in Gaza.

The German government has rejected South Africa’s allegations of genocide against Israel. Germany is planning to intervene on behalf of Israel at the International Court of Justice. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu expressed gratitude to German Chancellor Olaf Scholz for his intervention.

List of German Brands to Boycott.

1. Adidas (Sportswear)

2. Aldi (Supermarket)

3. Allianz (Insurance)

4. Audi (Automobiles)

5. BASF (Chemicals)

6. Bayer (Pharmaceuticals)

7. BMW (Automobiles)

8. Bosch (Electronics and Appliances)

9. Braun (Consumer Products, especially personal care and household appliances)

10. Commerzbank (Banking and Financial Services)

11. Continental AG (Automotive Parts and Tires Manufacturer)

12. Daimler AG/Mercedes-Benz( Automotive Manufacturer)

13.Deutsche Bank( Banking and Financial Services)

14.Deutsche Lufthansa AG(Aviation Company)

15.DHL( Logistics Company)

16.Dr.Oetker(Food Processing Company)

17.E.ON(Energy Company)

18.Faber-Castell(Art Supplies Manufacturer )

19.Ferrero(Food Processing Company )

20.Henkel(Personal Care Products, Adhesives, and Home Care Products)

21.IKEA(Furniture Retailer )

22.Lidl(Supermarket Chain )

23.Miele(Household Appliances Manufacturer )

24.Nivea(Skincare Brand )

25.Opel(Automobile Manufacturer )

26.Porsche(Automobile Manufacturer )

27.Rewe(Group Supermarket Chain )

28.Ritter Sport(Chocolate Brand )

Please share this article/ List to spread awareness and in support of boycotting German Brands for Palestine an Save Civilians' from Genocide.

I put the link below

[ummick]

Mick Schumacher Completes Tire Test For McLaren As Alpine Decision Looms

The 2024 Formula 1 British Grand Prix may be in the rear-view mirror, leaving just iconic images of Lewis Hamilton's return to the top step of the podium behind, but the work continues at Silverstone, and for one driver in particular, the effort Monday comes ahead of a critical decision regarding his, and the F1 driver grid's, future. Mick Schumacher was one of a trio of drivers participating in a Pirelli tire test at Silverstone on Tuesday, as the sport's exclusive tire supplier works to refine the compounds for the 2025 F1 season. Schumacher climbed into the cockpit of McLaren's MCL38, their challenger for the 2024 F1 season, as part of his reserve driver duties with Mercedes, McLaren’s engine supplier. Alexander Albon drove for Williams, with Haas, where Schumacher once drove on a full-time basis, calling on Pietro Fittipaldi. This was not Schumacher's first time testing for McLaren. Last July the former Haas driver climbed into the MCL35M for a testing session with the Woking-based team at Portimão Circuit in Portugal. Daniel Ricciardo drove the MCL35M to victory for McLaren at the 2021 Italian Grand Prix. According to Pirelli's media report, the conditions at Silverstone were too wet for the three drivers to test the hardest compounds, so the focus shifted to runs on the green-walled intermediates, using them with and without tire blankets. As noted by Pirelli in the media report, "...a total of 201 laps were completed; 53 by Schumacher (best lap 1:37.428), 86 for Albon (1:41.116), and 62 for Fittipaldi (1:42.124)." While there is no context associated with those times, such as whether Schumacher's best lap came with or without tire blankets, it is worth noting that Hamilton's best lap on intermediates during Sunday's British Grand Prix, courtesy of data from F1 Tempo, was 1:37.220. Lando Norris' best lap on the intermediates during Sunday's British Grand Prix-in the MCL38, remember-was a 1:36:746.

Schumacher's test with McLaren comes ahead of Alpine's decision regarding their second seat for the 2025 season. Ahead of the Austrian Grand Prix, Alpine confirmed that Pierre Gasly would be returning to the team next season on a new, "multi-year" contract. Earlier this season the team announced they and driver Esteban Ocon would be parting ways at the end of the 2024 campaign. That means one spot remains for the team to fill, and Schumacher is under consideration for that position. Also under consideration is Jack Doohan, and the two drivers recently completed a testing session at Circuit Paul Ricard in the A522, Alpine's challenger for the 2022 F1 season. Alpine is also making a push for Carlos Sainz Jr., who has yet to decide where he will drive next year. Sainz was strongly linked with Williams earlier this season, but Alpine has joined the fray for his services, along with Sauber/Audi.

[spaceorphan18]

Have you read the latest script of K&J's podcast about the Michael episode? I'm very interested in hearing your thoughts. They were talking about Jenna acting out and being forced to take time off. And they mentioned being upset because other people were acting out and getting storylines or being given time off to do other things. The later one is def about D since he went to do the musical but I can't believe he would act out for that, it's like totally OOC.

Same anon as before as I was just finishing to read the script. They did indeed talk about Darren being written off and I'm debating if I should listen this time because the way it's written they seem very jealous of him. I'm getting upset by just reading this. So I'm still very curious about your thoughts about it if and when you have the chance to read/listen to it.

I actually figured you guys were all tired of my opinions, lol.

Yes, I did kind of skim the transcript this morning because I saw people talking about it and was curious. And, I have a lot of complicated feelings about the whole thing.

First of all, though, I say this with love to all the Blaine and Darren fans out there -- Kevin and Jenna are never going to be able to be objective when doing this podcast. I keep thinking about all the other rewatch podcasts I listen to, and how all of them - even when discussing things that were hard to go through and/or things that weren't that great with the show - have a level of decorum that Kevin and Jenna just do not have. I do not know why they began this podcast, but digging into the show on a media analysis level just is not where their talents lie.

(Also, I don't think they love Glee the way those other podcasters genuinely love their show and that just colors how they see things. I'll get more into this in a moment...)

And I get that it's frustrating. Believe me, I do. There are plenty of Kurt things they do not talk about that drive me nuts. But at the same time, I feel like the 'recaps' have boiled down to praising Naya, Amber, and themselves; commentating on whatever BTS stuff comes up, and discussing shit on TikTok. I'm not sure why they're even bothering with the 'recaps', tbh.

But guys - if this podcast is upsetting you, if you're finding yourself this anxious or mad or whatever -- it's time to stop. They're not going to change how they do things, and at this point, I'm not entirely sure what you're waiting for from them? Maybe it's time to stop hate listening <3 <3

***

As for the acting out -- I think a lot of the cast probably did. I'm sure Lea was a terror to work with at times. I'm sure Mark probably wasn't easy either. I know Naya spoke up on a lot of things -- though the producers didn't take as much issue with her until the Season 5 drama. Chris was pretty vocal about choices with his character. I can imagine Amber being just as frustrated with Mercedes' lack of anything to do. Didn't Heather say she kept it all inward? And what about Diana who really seems to not ever want to talk about Glee again?

So - who knows what acting out means, tbh.

Keeping all of this in context -- this cast was very tired by the time Season 3 came around. There were too many characters to service, they keep adding ones in, and they were all very young. (And for those of you who are experiencing your early 20s right now? I hate to say this to you -- but you are all still very young.) Added on the fact that the producers clearly did not understand their mental health needs (as evident about how apologetic Ryan Murphy seems to be about all of it) you get a lot of young people expressing their frustration in a lot of different ways over a lot of different things.

I think that Jenna has some very, very complicated feelings about the show -- and in particular about this era because this is where she had a rather big break down. You know what, I do feel for her, because I can see where she's coming from. I can't imagine - feeling like you're tied to a job where everyone around you seems to be getting a better deal than you, and you're trying to be the nice one, and eventually, holding all of that inwardly will make you crack. I'm glad she went to therapy. I kinda hope she's still going to therapy because it seems as though a lot of this is still bothering her.

And I don't really think that Darren, specifically, is ultimately what led to Jenna's breakdown. I think it was a lot of things compounding on each other and Darren on Broadway might have been the last straw that caused her to crack.

I will say (again with all the love to Darren, I adore the guy) there was underground talk that when Darren first got there - he didn't exactly handle his newfound fame in the most eloquent of ways -- in that he was a little on the pompous side. But again, that was age, and by the time Season 4 came around, by all accounts that I came across, he was friends with everyone.

That said - none of this is Darren's fault. It's not Darren's fault that Ryan Murphy handled his young cast and their mental health very badly. It's not Darren's fault that he jumped on opportunities when they arose. It's not Darren's fault that through his natural talents Blaine became a way more popular character than half the original cast. And it's not Darren's fault that Jenna has her own shit to deal with.

***

So, yeah...

I guess those are my thoughts.

And I'm still here enjoying Kurt, Blaine, Chris, and Darren -- and believe it or not, a lot of the show in general. And I don't really listen to Kevin and Jenna's podcast anymore because they just don't care about the things I do -- and that's fine.

[accidental-king]

Burying the Not Quite Dead Chapter 2 Snippet

This one is a Kim POV chapter! Still looking for beta readers if anyone is interested. TWs for PTSD flashbacks, blood, descriptions of injuries, canon death indicated, Police Protocol

It takes a bit longer than expected to locate not only a hostel but also a restaurant nearby. The hostel was certainly larger than the Whirling n’ Rags in regards to the number of occupants it could accommodate but the amenities left much to be desired. In other words, no cafeteria this time. And to top it off, it seemed that this one was $25 reál per night vs the Whirlings 20, leaving Harry with only a few centims to his name as they return to the Kineema to track down a neon-lit vespertine diner that Harry had spotted a few blocks back.

Inside, the diner smells like coffee, cigarettes, and a variety of greasy foods. Even this late, it's fairly populated, idle chatter of patrons overpowering the crackling radio on the bartop counter that blocks off the kitchen from the dining area. The brightness of the room is almost overpowering between the neon decor and the fluorescent lights overhead. 

A heavy set messque woman looks at them as they enter. She sways from foot to foot as she tends to the large coffee drip machine on the row of counters. Her dark hair is pulled up into a loose bun but several strands have fallen loose. Her salmon-colored uniform is wrinkled and stained from the evening’s work. An unlit cigarette is perched in her lips. “Go ahead and seat yourselves, gents,” she shouts around the cigarette. Her accent is /very/ much from Faubourg.

The two officers find themselves sliding into the squeaking, vinyl-padded bench seats of a small booth table. A folding menu is propped up beside a small wire basket of condiment bottles and shakers. Kim looks to Harry to see if he’s going to go for the menu first but he isn’t looking. He’s busy taking in the details of the space, eyes lingering on bright flickering lights and new faces at other tables. The expression is very much like the one he wore when he first walked into the plaza in Martinaise. Everything is new to him. Kim wonders if it’s just curiosity or if it’s some kind of residual hypervigilance that he can’t mask in his current state.

He clears his throat and Harry snaps back to the moment. He reaches for the menu. “This is vespertine right? Is it any good?” he asks.

“It’s-” 

Kim is cut off by the waitress walking up and setting down two glasses of water. “Coffee, officers?” she asks.

They both give their affirmations more or less at the same time, creating a jumbled mess of syllables. She gets the message and speeds off without a word.

“It’s pretty good, I think. It tends to be a bit greasy so it’s not something I eat often,” Kim finishes his earlier statement. Harry nods thoughtfully as he turns his attention to the folder in his hand. He watches Harry look over the menu patiently and, without really thinking about it, reaches into his jacket and pulls out his notebook. The moment he pulls his pen free and clicks it, the other man glances up and grins when he meets Kim’s eye.

“Still working, Kim? I think I know what I’m getting,” the man smiles. That odd expression springs back to Harry’s face like it’s always belonged there. It doesn’t carry the visible joy or je ne sais quoi he thinks it does. In some situations, it’s been mildly unnerving. But now is not the time to speculate. Harry passes the menu to Kim as the waitress returns, setting down two ceramic mugs of steaming black coffee.

“Just call me over when you’re ready. My name is Mercedes,” she says. Her tone is somehow cheerful and painfully flat at the same time. Her dark eyes are distant and tired. As quickly as she arrived, she walks back toward the kitchen to grab a new plate that’s just been placed on the edge of the service window.

Kim is quick to decide and waves the woman back over so they can place their orders and carry on with their currently non-existent conversation. The two men both bring the mugs to their lips in near perfect sync when she turns to leave once again.

“So what happens now?” Harry asks. He's looking at the place where Kim had set his notebook on the table.

“With the case? Well, we compile our notes and the evidence lists and write up our reports. As I said in Martinaise, this is going to need to be long and detailed if we want to get everything across to the appropriate authorities in the courts.” He reaches for his notebook again and begins to flip through the pages. He'd spent a good deal of the time spent at Lena and Morelle’s apartment filling in as many details as he could remember regarding his primary and secondary case. The two were inseparable within the timeline that the writing had created. Primary case: ‘The Hanged Man’ aka ‘The Furies’. Secondary case: ‘Officer Unknown’.

The subject of case two responds with another question. “Do we /both/ need to write reports?”

“I would assume so given that two precincts are involved.”

Harry frowns and his brow furrows. This prospect is troubling to him. It only now occurs to Kim that he may not remember how to write investigation reports much like how he didn't understand his previous case files. 

“It's not unheard of for collaborating detectives to also work together on the report. I don't see why that would change for an interdistrict investigation,” Kim continues, holding the notebook open in one hand and holding his mug in the other. He takes another sip, enjoying the warmth filling his stomach. 

“Really? Can we do that? That would make it so much easier for both of us!” Harry’s expression is two parts relieved and three parts excited. Kim’s not sure he’s ever seen anyone excited about paperwork, especially not someone new to it.

Kim returns the enthusiasm with a smile of his own. It’s little more than a faint upturn on the outside but it is enough for Harry to dig into his blazer to retrieve his own pen and start pulling napkins from the holder on the table. The pen hovers over the makeshift page, the green monkey head bauble on the end staring unblinkingly across the diner.

“So how do we start?”

Kim glances toward the kitchen. He can just make out the shape of a semenese man in the kitchen through the service window as he rushes back and forth. In the dining area, there appear to be a couple other tables that have yet to see their plates, and another patron just walked in from outside. She receives the same greeting from the waitress that they had received. There’s no indication that their food will be arriving any time soon. 

The lieutenant takes another sip of his coffee and looks back to his notes. “I usually start with summarizing the evidence. After that usually comes witness testimonials and then a sequence of events regarding the investigation itself. Perhaps we divide and conquer? There is a lot to cover.”

Harry nods and waits for him to continue or provide some kind of instruction.

“If you have your ledger, you can start on the summary of the autopsy. I believe you still have a copy of the field autopsy report, right?”

The detective reaches into his blazer and pulls the bent ledger out of some inside pocket.

As he shuffles through the crumbled mess of paperwork, Kim returns to his notes. “The captains are probably going to want these typed up. Perhaps tomorrow I can bring a typewriter and we can keep working on this, once we get you into your apartment. I have a portable at home.”

Harry nods again, his brow furrowed as he does his best not to tear through the delicate material with his heavy hand. "Sounds good to me. You're the best, Kim," he adds, a smile cracking his facade of focus. 

"Hardly, detective. This should be a good refresher for you but I must warn you, I'm a bit of a stickler for grammar and spelling. My Junior Officers have complained about me marking up their reports and handing them back on more than one occasion." He doesn't hide the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. The memory amuses him. 

They work in a surprisingly comfortable silence as Harry's stack of napkins slowly grows. Kim has looked over his ledger enough to recognize his handwriting. It's heavy, sharp and dense with metaphor and prose. When he’d first seen it, he had almost been convinced that Harry was possibly some kind of author on the side; nothing Kim would have read in his time off but still. It's added to his secondary case notes. If he was an author before Martinaise, it hasn’t come up since.

On occasion, Harry prods his partner for descriptors of various parts of the process or of the cadaver itself. Kim is not nearly as conceptual with his phrasing, usually opting for just the blunt facts. Anything else has a tendency to be read as opinion, which the investigators aren't supposed to have. Opinions on facts are for the courts to argue about. 

When the waitress arrives with their plates, it becomes an awkward shuffle to move their work out to the way. Both detectives had chosen some kind of beef patty sandwich which came stacked high enough to require a skewer through their shining bun caps for stability and came paired with hot wedge chips heavily seasoned. 

The smell of the food seems to open up a cavern in Kim as he slips his notebook and pens away from prying eyes. It feels like the low fuel indicator just came on in the kineema. 

He slides his driving gloves off and slips them into one of the outer pockets of his jacket. Beneath the soft leather are thin, pale hands with long bony fingers. The nails are trimmed very short and in close proximity, look relatively thin and brittle. Around the nail beds are years worth of old scars, and even more notably, some dark scabs where there had been some more recent damage. 

It's a bad habit. One Kim has been trying to stave off since childhood. For the most part, he's been successful but old habits tend to come back under stress. The gloves help, not only with the picking but also with keeping his icy digits from freezing further and protecting them while on the job. They also happen to look incredibly cool when paired with his bomber jacket. 

Glancing at the detective's hands across from him, he recalls the days leading up to this arrest. Both hands are scarred, calloused, and nicotine stained. They're somewhat blocky in shape; strong. Kim knows they're warm. The webbed criss-cross of old scars slash across his knuckles. Even relaxed, the first two knuckles are prominent bony protrusions beneath his skin. A lifetime of fighting, he thinks. 

There's still a mottling of greenish grey and sickly yellow on the back of the left hand. A closer look might yield a puncture mark where Kim had had to place an IV after the tribunal. The entire ordeal had been a mess; from directing civilians through an emergency situation, to hauling Harry upstairs, to having to remove the bullet and stitch him up while the man howled In agony. Total shit show. Being freshly concussed, Kim knows he‘d made some poor decisions. 

Deep in his chest, far from his face and his dark eyes, there's a fresh bloom of guilt. They'd been in the middle of an active shootout, civilians were being killed and yet the moment Harry was hit, Kim had broken. He'd been overcome with memories and he panicked. He was standing one moment, and then on his knees applying pressure to the wound the next. 

Images old and new flash through his mind. Blood sleeping out past his fingers, sometimes through trousers, sometimes to a torso. "Stay with me." The words feel like they're permanently teetering on the tip of his tongue. Twice he's said that. Twice it failed to keep them awake. 

His own hands can still make out the phantom feeling of the forceps in his hand as he delved into the depths of the wound, the other hand keeping the leg still in case Harry came back to consciousness and began to thrash. 

He sees an old friend on an operating table through a window pane, his face ghostly pale as doctors swarm him like flies. He hears the doctor's voice echo in his ears when he’d come to tell him he didn't make it. The anguished cry of his poor wife... 

"-im?.. Kim?.. Lieutenant?" A gravelly voice comes crashing through the veil. 

Harry sits across from him at a booth in a diner in Central Jamrock. Or is this technically Le Domaine Eminént? He has a hefty sandwich crushed in his big hands and several bites taken from it. There are already crumbs in his mustache. His face is the picture of concern and his eyes are intense in their sincerity.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It's okay. Everyone is safe. We are present and in control. It's only been a few seconds. 

Kim blinks and meets his gaze as he returns to reality. "Hmm? Yes, detective?" 

Harry relaxes considerably even if the worry still shows through. "Thought I lost you to the pale for a second there. You looked like you were on another isola. Are you okay?" 

Kim glances at his food, untouched. His stomach is still empty but somewhere in the connection between his head and his stomach, his appetite has been lost. He picks a fried potato skin from the pile of chips and looks back to his temporary partner. 

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as he proceeds to flick the chip at Harry across the table. It pings off his face just shy of his nose, making him flinch. Once the mood is broken, his face splits into a lopsided smile that opens into a full laugh that shakes his shoulders.

Kim smiles back at that. Harry's laugh could be downright infectious under the right circumstances. It was full-bodied and warm, starting in the stomach and filling his barrel chest. It suits him well.

[nynjlimousinetour]

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[ericshoney]

Let’s Play ~ Chapter two

Sat in a comfy apartment were two young girls. The two also watched the news about The Boyz. Both of them tired with the city's heroes behaviours against the villains. The girls, Nabi and Lily, sighed turning the TV off.

"The police are suppose to keep the city safe." Nabi mumbles.

"I know Unnie, what's the point of having a police force if they don't do anything?" Lily replies.

"I have no idea." Nabi responds.

The two sigh once again, Lily glances outside the apartment window and out to her car, their apartment luckily on the ground floor. Lily stares at her white Ford mustang.

"I'm going for a drive Unnie." Lily said to the elder.

"Alright, be back before midnight and text me if something happens." Nabi replies.

Nabi stands at the window watching her younger friend drive off, she just hopes she's safe in the big city. Nabi then takes a seat, looking at more news about The Boyz.

With Lily, the young girl was speeding down the empty streets. With no police about, there are no worries about being caught speeding. The large smile on her face as she drives down the streets, drifting with each turn. She continues driving until she reaches the old rail tracks. Lily hops out, sitting on the front of her car as she looks at the night sky.

"Nice driving there."

Lily looks around quickly and hears a deep chuckle. A figure then steps out the shadow. Lily sees a tall male walking towards her, tattoos littering his exposed skin. Lily doesn't recognise the male, until she notices TBZ inked on his skin.

"Your one of them." She mutters softly. The male laughs again.

"Lee Juyeon at your service." He said, walking over to stand in front of the female. Lily looks up at the male.

"Okay, well I should go." Lily said, sliding off her car, ready to get into the drivers seat, when a large hand grips her arm tightly. Lily looks up to see Juyeon smirking down at her.

"Let's have a race." He said.

"Um, no thank you." Lily declines politely, trying not get her head blown off.

"It wasn't a question." Juyeon spoke, his voice deep.

Lily looks over to see a black Mercedes parked up. She nods, knowing she can't get out of it. Juyeon smirks and lets go of her arm.

"First to make it back here wins." Juyeon said before getting in his ride.

Lily slips into the drivers seat of her car and starts the engine. She looks over at Juyeon to see he's relaxed in his seat. The two then set off quickly, the adrenaline in her veins. Lily sits closely to Juyeon's bumper before managing to over take him. She smiles wide, looking at him in the mirror.

The two continue driving like crazy around the city's streets, the race neck a neck as the two make it back to the rail tracks. The two park up and get out, standing in front of each other.

"Thanks for the thrill ride, kid. Might have to tell my brothers how good you are." Juyeon said with the familiar smirk.

"I like games and racing." Lily tells the male.

"Hmm, alright then, let's play again soon, see you around Lily." Juyeon responds before leaving in his car.

Lily stands there in shock, not only did she race with a dangerous mafia member, but he also knew her name even though she didn't say it. Quickly getting into her car, Lily speeds home in record time. Rushing into the apartment and scaring Nabi as she slams the door and flops down on the sofa.

"What's wrong?" Nabi asks the younger.

"I just raced with Lee Juyeon of The Boyz and he knows my name, even though I didn't tell him." Lily confesses.

Nabi looks at her friend in shock, not knowing what to say. What could this mean for the two girls now?

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The call from your New York restaurant comes at 2am their time which is a sensible 11pm your time.

“Boss, we need you,” the manager says. Hercules – the name he chose for himself when he first started working for you – doesn’t scare easily. He can’t, not while running three of your restaurants in the cesspool that is New York city. “Someone just drove a truck through the flagship.”

You’re already out of bed and out the door. “I’ll be there before the sun comes up.”

Hercules’ relief bleeds through the phone. “Thank you.”

“You’re my right arm, Hercules,” you say. You’re wearing the plaid pajama set Mercedes, your left arm and the woman who runs your LA restaurants, gave you for your birthday. You can buy clothes in New York. “Thank you.”

Your Thank yous are far and few between. They’ve always felt awkward in your mouth and worse leaving it. But Hercules is one of yours and it’s easy to volley the words back, to not accept his gratitude in the face of his loyalty. No thanks needed. You’re part of me.

Hercules swallows hard. He knows you well. “Boss.”

“Hercules.”

You hang up at the same time.

Los Angeles is still awake as you roar onto the streets. Your motorcycle is the same one you bought when your first restaurant started turning a profit. Prodigal. The name of it is carved into the body. The streets are damp from a rare spot of rain. You’d gotten caught in it while leaving Queen earlier. It had felt like a bad omen then and your lip curls as the moisture sprays up under your tires now.

You should always listen to your gut.

“Call Mercedes.”

The AI in your helmet sends the call through. It rings once before Mercedes picks up.

Music thumps in the background. Mercedes is still at Queen. “Boss?”

“Some idiot drove a truck through Court,” you say. “I need you to put Chicago, Houston, and Philadelphia on red alert. Everyone else on yellow.”

Mercedes swears in French. “I’ll get you the soonest ticket out. LAX?”

“For this, I’ll need the jet.”

“They’ll know you’re coming.”

Your grin is feral. Signs for the airport pass by. Her blurted statement means she’s thinking the same thing you are. “I want them to know.”

Mercedes is silent for a long moment. Despite being with you for so many years as your nearest equal, she doesn’t like to question you. “…does this have to do with the news you got last month?”

“Knowledge is power,” you say. Said power thrums in your chest. You didn’t know what it was before. But now that you know, you’re not surprised that others know too. “We’re used to being challenged.”

It’d been a challenge to build the culinary empire you have today. In a sea of celebrity chefs and multi-billion dollar corporate entities, it had been a battle to carve out your spot in the industry. What sets your restaurants apart has always been quality ingredients, your innovative recipes, a track record for good customer service and consistency.

And, apparently, fae magic.

“This is just another dog fight for the top,” you continue. You screech up to the fence separating the street from the tarmac. Already someone from the airport has cut a hole in it big enough for you to walk through. You duck under their arm with a nod. Your plane is waiting. “We’re good at winning those.”

“Boss,” Mercedes agrees. Then, “Just bought the flight plan. You’re good to take off.”

“Superb.” You jog up the stairs and into the jet. Absent-mindedly, you take the cup of coffee the flight attendant hands you. “Take care of LA for me, Mercedes.”

“Permission to contact our new friends for assistance?”

You pause. This is why you love Mercedes. She always finds the right resources for the right time. Your alliance with the Los Angeles Seelie Queen is new enough that you don’t know the strength of her commitments yet. This will be a wonderful time to test that strength. “Granted.”

Mercedes hums in satisfaction. “Have a good flight, Boss.”

“Mercedes.”

You both hang up as the cabin door closes.

----.

Hercules, like his name suggests, is a big man. His favorite game growing up was the caber toss. Where his cousins used saplings, he used pine in their tenth year. His strawberry blonde hair is cropped close behind his ears and there’re heavy bags under his eyes that disrupt the natural redness of his face.

You see him as you step through the hole in your restaurant. The debris has been completely cleared off the street – best not to be a nuisance in New York lest you lose your customer base – but the damage is extensive. You eye the columns that line the interior of your dining area. Without them, the truck might have hit your customers. The one in front of the hole was crashed into, sending spiderwebs of stucco racing up the entire thing. Underneath, steel gleams.

Hercules, sitting at a dust covered table, leaps to his feat at your arrival. His suit has lost its tie and his shirt is missing a button from around the neck. “Boss!”

“Told you I’d beat the sun.” It’s rising behind you, turning the deep shadows of night into grey ghosts. “What happened to your shirt?”

   “Busted it helping move rocks,” Hercules says. He hurries to pull out a chair for you – he dusted your table off – and busies his hands with getting you a cup of coffee from the cart beside him. He’s even brought tomatoes to slice for your breakfast. “Cream?”

“And sugar.” You watch as his hands steady with the busy work. Hercules is your favorite chef (besides yourself). He know how to not overcomplicate a dish. You wait until he’s sliced your tomato and sprinkled it with just a bit of salt before you say, “You should go home.”

Hercules’ chin firms. “I’d like to stay and see this through, Boss.”

There are two people left in the world who can question you. Mercedes and Hercules. You smile. “This –” You gesture to the curls of exposed rebar and chunks of mortared brick “-- is our new friends, Hercules.”

“It’s my home,” Hercules says.

“It is.” You sip your coffee. Hercules added a tablespoon of sugar and it’s perfect. “How you can best help is to bring me my spare suit from the office and go home. You know I’m still learning my new powers.”

“Your aunt said you had impressive control.”

“I’m angry,” you say. You cut a bite of tomato and it’s so ripe that the juices bleed onto the plate. You let the implication hang in the air as you chew. You hate admitting weakness, but that’s what this is. I don’t know if I can control myself right now. “The suit will do, Hercules. The complicated one with the laces, you can suit me up for battle.”

Hercules still isn’t happy, but he says, “Boss.” He goes to fetch your clothes.

You watch the sunrise through the hole in your restaurant. Cars start slowly coasting down the road and gaping at the destruction. You know what the news articles will read because you told them what to say on the way over. Beloved landmark attacked. Because you are beloved and you want people to know that someone did this to you.

It will be easier to rally them later.

----------.

You’re laced and buckled up, situated behind the bar and out of sight of the street when the wolf man walks into Court. You’ve moved onto a bloody Mary which is the only passable drink you can make without Hercules. You bite into the celery stick loudly. “You’re late.”

The wolf man looks like a petty criminal. He’s wearing sweatpants to your meeting, a leather jacket, a black beanie that’s pulled down to his eyebrows. Without realizing it, you’ve become accustomed to the class of the LA court. He has a thick, black beard that makes the shape of his head longer and thinner than it actually is. His yellow eyes lock on you and he prowls forward, irritation in every step. “You hid this place.”

Actually, you obfuscated this place so nobody unknowing of the fae can stumble in here. You gesture to the newspaper spread across the bar. “We’re a ‘City Landmark.’ If you couldn’t find me from that, then I expected you’d at least be able to remember where you parked your truck last night.”

“Alpha Craig.” The man says. He stops five feet from the bar with his insolent hands in his pockets. “Or so they call me.”

Alpha. Does this mean werewolves are real too? Or is he another type of fae putting on a bit? You smell wolf coming from him in waves, your sensitive magic palate curling with distaste. If werewolves are real, does that make vampires real too?

Most of your restaurants do their own butchering. If there’s a market for blood dishes…

You drag your mind away from business. “I’ll confess, you weren’t on my list of suspects.”

You didn’t have a list of suspects. You thought that you must have stepped on the toes of another Court, like you did in LA. But you aren’t going to tip your hand to that.

 Craig bristles. He bares his teeth and his hands come out of his pockets to show each finger is tipped with a razor sharp claw. “You fairy bastards are all the same. You think you’re the only ones with a right to hold a territory. You smell pretty young so I’ll tell you this; there’s a reason no Court lasts long in my city.”

His choice of words makes you laugh. “Actually, Court was established twenty years ago. That’s longer than most. Longer than you.”

It’s a guess, but it’s apparently a very good guess.

“I don’t know how you hid before, but you can’t hide now,” Craig says. His head jerks towards the damage. “That? That’s just the beginning. If you’re smart, you’ll sell and move on.”

“If I’m smart, hm?” You fold your arms and consider him. Craig reminds you of the worst type of chef; the ones just in it for the money. They’re like insects, crawling all over the culinary world in their artisanal food trucks and gastro-bistro pubs. “Walk with me.”

You don’t wait to see if Craig will follow. You leave the bar area and walk down the hall to the bathroom. There are newspaper articles there from each year you’ve been open. The grand opening was published locally. A few paragraphs and a grainy photo of Court with checkered tablecloths. Craig stops ten feet away from you, but you imagine he can still see the obviously cheaper design in the photo. “When I opened Court 20 years ago, I was terrified. All of my life savings turned into tables and ovens and product I didn’t know I would sell. The building was crumbling when I bought it. I patched every hole in the wall myself then. I’m not afraid to do it again now.”

“That was just a greeting,” Craig says. He grins to show sharp fangs. “It will only get worse.”

You hum and move down the hall. The articles now are from food critics. These are published in the local papers, yes, but also in food magazines. There’s one from a Philadelphia critic, a St. Louis one, even one from Atlanta. “My food received a lot of criticism. It took a lot of work to build the reputation I have. I had to compromise. Improve. Take feedback. There is only one dish on my menu that’s the same from 20 years ago. That dish has won awards across the nation.”

“Your sweet potatoes,” Craig says. He rolls his eyes. “This isn’t about food.”

You turn to face him. He’s closer now, five feet away from you and boiling with the need to fight. You smile like you did for all those critics and lean in. “Everything is about food.”

Something in your face must unnerve Craig. He jerks like he’s about to step back and then squares his footing. His eyes flash red. “Everything is about power.”

“That came later,” you say. You turn your back on the angry wolf to continue down the hallway. Now the articles are bigger. Full page spreads with your face on them or the chefs you trained. Your food is in glossy technicolor and accompanied by words like best and award-winning. “My food was recognized. I opened restaurants in all the major culinary hubs. It was a fight to get a footprint at first. I paid nearly eight digits for my restaurant in Vegas. But then they started calling me. ‘Please open a Court here.’  And I told them I would do them one better. I would give them restaurants with names only their city would ever have. Knight. Queen. Sentry. I never opened another Court. There has always been one.”

Craig misses what you’re telling him. “All of you fae never make any goddamn sense. I came today to tell you what’s what. The next time we meet, won’t be so nice.”

You watch Craig turn to go. His back is broad and radiating tension. The stink of wolf is ruining your palate.

“Alpha Craig, have you ever eaten at Court?”

Craig stops but doesn’t turn. “Before I knew it was run by fairies. Every New Yorker has.”

“Have you tried my Sweet Potato Pave?”

“It’s a complimentary appetizer.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Craig finally turns. His eyes are blazing red. He laughs without humor. “Trying to convince me to spare you with potatoes?”

“You still don’t get it,” you say. “The Los Angeles Queen understood right away.”

“You lot and your riddles can go f—”

“You stood in my Court and you devoured the food I offered you of your own free will.”

Craig’s jaw clicks shut. His brow furrows. He’s finally getting it. “No. No, because we paid for it. There’s no debts to settle here.”

“You paid for the complimentary appetizer?” you ask lightly.

Craig goes still. It’s interesting because he doesn’t freeze in place like a human. Everything about him stills like prey. “Humans served us that food.”

“Made from my recipes using food in my court,” you say. You had this argument with the LA Queen as well. You gesture to the last photo on the wall. It’s a copy of your recipe, the one you carried with you since the beginning. The edges of it are stained with grease, sugar, and fat. The handwriting is pinched and tight. The entire page is littered with your corrections and notes and magic. “Every single one of my restaurants make it a hiring requirement. You learn this to the letter and, when you do, it becomes my food. Like a spell.”

“I would know,” Craig says. He shakes his head. “No, I would know if I or any of my pack were under fae enchantment.”

“My goal is not power,” you say. You think about your family finding you a month ago and how your awareness of what you are changed everything. You smile. “Though that came to me. No, I’m not like the ones you’ve dealt with before. Why would you ever feel your yoke? My goal has always been to feed people good food. And, like the lambs you are, you came and asked me to feed you.”

“I would feel it.” Craig is insistent. One hand tears at his shirt over his heart. “I would feel it here.”

“You will feel it now,” you say.

And he does.

Craig gasps as you let your power rise. He feels the weight of your work and the gravity of what you do. You give people what sustains them. You craft delight and joy and sustenance and life. People take it into their bodies and their pleasure comes back to you and your food becomes part of them.

Craig feels your rage.

“Nobody died,” Craig chokes out. He falls to his knees. His eyes are yellow as he looks up at you and begs. “Nobody got hurt.”

You dart forward and grab his jaw. Before you knew, you were strong from years in the kitchen carrying the weight a chef must carry. There are scars littered across your hands and callouses just as deep. You’re a lot stronger now. “I got hurt,” you hiss. “We got hurt.”

The restaurant breathes with you. You’ve touched every brick here. You’ve done many deals here. It is as much the ruler of this court as you are.

And it is angry with Craig too.

“I’m sorry,” Craig blubbers. How fast his rage has fled! Stark terror makes the scent of wolf more tolerable. “We—we’ll leave. Before the end of the day.”

“Leave? You can’t leave. You ate my food.” You smile as Craig’s eyes well at the truth of your words. “I will never allow you to leave.”

Craig trembles. “Then what do you want?”

“I want you to eat,” you say. You throw him away from you and he flies ten feet back into the dining room. “Every month, you and yours will come here to eat until your debt for your harm is paid.”

“I-I can pay for the damages—”

You will not be questioned by a wolf. “I told you how.”

Craig scrambles up. He stands stooped so this head is lower than yours. “I—I will do it.”

“Of course you will.” You wave your hand. “Go.”

Craig runs with his tail between his legs.

Will he try to run further? Away from your deal? You head back to the bar to make yourself another drink. It doesn’t matter if he does.

You have a restaurant in every city.

---

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You never knew your birth parents, growing up across the country in orphanages. While alone you learned to cook and shared your meals across the world, eventually owning your own business. One day you suddenly find out what your parents were. They were Fae… you’ve fed thousands Fae Food.