#pre-season 4 is hard to watch

[winchester-co]

‘As long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.’

You tried, Dean. You really tried. You tried so hard, you ruined his life. You didn’t realise that the worst thing that could happen to Sam was lose you.

[livvyofthelake]

what’s really crazy about the laundry thing though is that it had to have been WEEKS of it sitting there waiting to be picked up. and i wonder if the women who worked there keeping it there waiting for the soldiers to come back and pick it up even considered the horrific implication that it hasn’t been picked up because there’s no one to do it. like was she really that naive to think maybe dozens of men had forgotten to come back to her shop? there’s no wayyyy. that scene was BONKERS it’s been haunting me for days. there’s no one to think about picking up their laundry. just a devastating way to show how many little things one person’s life touches and how much crumbles under the weight of such a massive war. as i said the other day. world war 2 was genuinely one of the all time bummers…

and of course this goes to show just how well done the show is at neither glamorizing or vilifying the war and the people who were affected by it. like i think the show gives proper weight to everything without being like. american military propaganda you know? the fact that the characters take “trophies” from people they kill is crazy to me and i think that’s an example of how the writing is handling disturbing topics with a certain nuance that’s usually absent in most propaganda esque war media. we’re supposed to be disturbed that they’re so insensitive to the fact they’re taking someone else’s life, but we’re also made to understand why they feel that way and how deeply The Enemy has been dehumanized to them over all their training. i mean that’s just how i see it maybe i’m being too complimentary. i think it’s a good show though i’m allowed to be complimentary when i normally just watch garbage

[pucksandpower]

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

[goldsbitch]

I'm not sure if your requests are open but what about the whole fire situation at McLaren, Lando can't find the reader and he's freaking out and he cares more about finding her than putting shoes on - obv she's be OK and just stand there with oscar or sth 😭

-omg I love this request! added a bit here and there, so hope you'll like it...thank you!!

Fire.

Rick was a 23 year old McLaren assistant who, by sheer luck, managed to land a job with the racing team. This being his first season and immediately being thrown into following the team on the road. It was an exciting life, but a little fast and hard to follow in the beginning. He was just trying to blend it and feel out what is it that is actually required from him.

It was few hours after the fire was put down and if he knew one thing it was that corporate is expecting a quick short report asap, before the long report from health and safety people follows. He'd been sitting there, in Pirelli hospitality, stressed out as if his life depended on this - and honestly, it probably did a little bit. It was quite baffling to him why was it that the team elected him to be in charge or reports to corporate. On a normal day, it was fairly easy - reporting minor injuries, heatstrokes and collecting reports from the mechanics and resending them. And now, he was to do a full on fire report? He hasn't even seen one before!

He tried to ignore his inner panic and put together few pages of text, trying to tune into the confusing language corporate sometimes required. The part he dreaded the most was "describing how the drivers were evacuated" part of the form.

Oscar Piastri (driver 81) had not been at the premise when the fire was detected, therefore there was no need to evacuate him.

Lando Norris (driver 4) had been running around like a panic filled duck making the evacuation way more difficult for everyone.

Nope, this was not even an option, no matter how much would Rick like to send this out and watch the world burn, again.

Lando Norris (driver 4) was in his driver room when the evacuation started, definitely not blasting his music into unhealthy levels and certainly did not miss the first warning because of it.

Nope.

Lando Norris (driver 4) used his unique ability to be as extra as possible at any given moment that we can thank him for creating yet another viral moment, the image of him, standing outside the mobile hospitality building with no shoes, gaining a permanent place on the internet.

This was going to be a difficult decision for poor Rick.

//

Lando was excited about the Barcelona race, this being only the second time he was on pole. And all of that happening on the weekend he and his new girlfriend decided to make their relationship official, hard launch around the paddock.

But he also understood he needed his alone time to get prepared and Y/N supported that completely, not wanting him to babysit her constantly.

He was full on enjoying his pre-race ritual. Chilling on his couch and blasting music loudly and proudly, flicking his toes to the rhythm of the latest bops and getting lost in his strategy, going over the plan they had for that race.

All was good and well - until the smoke coming from the stairs started to spread, together along with panic.

"Lando!" a voice said while barging unapologetically through his door. "We need to evacuate!"

He nearly had a heart attack and fell of the sofa, as he did not expect anything to happen on that nice Sunday morning.

"What?" he said, putting his music on mute and only now hearing the general mayhem happening outside his door, dark milky smoke rolling in.

"We need to evacuate you!" his assistant said once again, rushing to him and getting him up.

"Lando!" said another voice that marched in with the same intention. "How come you're still here, we need to move out!"

"What the fuck is happening outside?" confused Lando asked, not really used to people storming into his room right before the race. His eyes flashed between the two assistants, both out of breath because they were probably not used to running.

"Em, fire...down at the staircase, so we gotta go that way," one of them said, gesturing somewhere towards his left.

"Wait, so near the canteen?" Lando asked. Shit, that was where he left Y/N. Oh god. Both of them nodded, trying to gesture him to move outside, which he did not.

"Has anyone seen my girlfriend?" he continued with the questions firmly.

"Um, Y/N?" one of the assistants asked, not expecting this question.

"Yes, who else?" Lando responded impatiently, panic growing in.

"I don't know, I never want to assume anything..."started rambling the one who marched in first.

Lando couldn't help but roll his eyes, where we all the competent people when he needed them? Once again, these two were gesturing him to start evacuating.

"I need to call her first," he said, taking his phone out and dialing her number. It was a very bizarre scenery to watch, the three of them just standing there while everyone was rushing around.

One, two, three, four very long dials. Two pairs of eyes shooting arrows at Lando, who stood firmly, hoping she'll pick up. Nothing. Was that actual panic he was starting to feel?

"Ok, I gotta go check out the canteen and find her, you two can go and tell everyone I'm ok," he said and brushed past them and went to the hallway.

He overhead someone trying to give orders, but based on the scene ahead of him, people rushing back and forth without clear direction, nobody seemed to pay that much attention. "Please, make your orderly exit, follow the signs, this is not a drill, this is not a drill. Breathe through your nose."

The driver was making his way through flocks of people going the other direction while the smoke and acrid smell grew on intensity that even Lando, with his cough and blocked nose, could actually smell it. He managed to avoid everyone, leaving the two poor assistants who came to search for him behind, until he bumped into another rushing person most likely giving him a black eye.

"Ouch! Lando! Everyone is looking for you, we gotta evacuate," stated the another new member of the team, who Lando vaguely recalled as Rick, while he held his puffing eye. And finally, fire alarm started to produce its signature deafening sound.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he apologized loudly, not wanting to cause more trouble, which was failing quite miserably. "I know, you're all looking for me, but is anyone looking for Y/N?" Lando asked, his priorities being very clear.

Rick was slightly confused, trying to recall if she had already evacuated or not.

"Did you see her going outside?" Lando demanded answers from anyone present and poor Rick was on the frontline.

"I don't know, I was over there-" he pointed to a room, where Y/N would definitely not be - the men's room.

"Fuckin' shit," Lando cursed and left Rick standing and marched over to where the smoke was coming from, trying to remember to breathe through his nose.

It was the first time she visited him in the paddock, which was already stressful enough, as he imagined. This was his home, he knew every corner and secret this place held - but she didn't! And also - he was Lando Norris, people would go out and search for him, but it was his job to make sure that his girlfriend is ok. And he was doing a very shit job at that, at least in his mind. Actual firefighters started to appear at the scene and finally the evacuation started to resemble orderly departure, rather than an obscure rave. He finally arrived near to the canteen when he got stopped by one of the firemen.

"Sir, you have to leave now, the other way!" he ordered, not interested in anyone's bullshit.

"I know, I just gotta check my girlfriend is not there, nobody is looking for her-"

"We are looking for everyone and you are making our job harder, please evacuate and let us work."

Lando was starting to understand that his actions might be creating more chaos than good, so he nodded and turned around, only to see the entourage of three assistant walking towards him, trying to get through the firefighters.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," he shouted and gestured them to turn around, which they only did once they saw his actually going the right way and following evacuation orders.

The strange quartet finally rolled outside, three of them finally being able to relax as they got the driver out, while he was on the verge of losing it. Frantically started looking around, losing his cool again. Only once he stepped outside to the hot Spanish June afternoon, he noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes, the asphalt giving him a lot of information about the potential track temperature. Hot.

He didn't care. He had to find her, otherwise he was going back in and this time nobody would stop him.

Not her, not her, not her - wait, that was her! Standing safely far away from curious crowd that observed the scene and chatting it out, was Y/N and Oscar. Safe and sound, maybe a little too relaxed given the situation. Lando rushed to her, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Hey...I called you," he said, his own athleticism saving him from being unable to breathe.

She smiled when she saw him, like she always did. Innocent eyes and lush lips creating and angel-like picture. "Oh, did you? Sorry, I couldn't hear, there was so much noise everywhere," she said and gave him a little peck on his cheek before turning her attention to the McLaren building.

Lando was trying to look cool, not saying anything and tried to process his own reaction, maybe potentially overreaction - something, he'd never admit.

"We are recreating the scene from The Office," Oscar said, as if there weren't people around them running in panic. Lando just stared at him and his girlfriend, both standing in pure calmness and doing what could only be described as "vibing it out".

"I'm sorry?" he replied, not yet tuned into their wave-lenght.

"We were playing Desert Island while everyone was evacuating themselves," Oscar explained to Lando. Y/N laughed, but decided to change the topic when she saw how clueless her boyfriend looked.

"Never thought I'd date a millennial," she said out of the blue.

Lando was once again not comprehending, still coming down from his shock. "What?"

She giggled. "Look at your socks man. So low one would think it's 2014 again."

"Good year," Oscar said, sounding like he was 80 years old.

Only then Lando looked down now to truly fathom that he forgot to put his shoes on. He had to chuckle. He was used to adrenaline highs and lows, but apparently not as much as he though so.

"You ok?" Y/N asked, starting to become concerned when Lando did not follow up on their joke. She examined him and noticed the drops of stress sweat, his uneven breathing and eyes wide as the sun.

There was not much of a hesitation before he uttered the next sentence.

"I love you," he stated, no regrets or uncertainty. This was the first time either of them said this sentence. They were sort of tip toying around for few weeks now, but both of them feared it would freak the other one out. Not anymore, Lando had to get it out at that moment and nothing would stop him.

Now it was Y/N who was completely taken back, not expecting that. Funny how a fire did nothing to her reactions and this had her nearly melting. Melting with shock. No, it did not make sense to her either.

Lando was standing there, not expecting or demanding a reaction from her. He was coming to terms with his own realization, and stood there as proudly as someone who's not wearing any shoes can.

"Yes, it is true. I love you. You don't have to say anything, but I am more than sure now."

She bit her lower lip, unable to contain herself. "No, I want to say something. I love you too, more every day. So much it's getting scary."

Lando smiled, ear to ear, the events of the day passing him by. This was what mattered.

"This is so cool," Lando replied and went to kiss her on the cheek.

"Cool? That's your reaction?" she gasped, astonished and slightly amused.

"Yes, exactly that," he smiled once again, smitten over the moon.

The three of them stood there, Y/N and Lando watching each other, Oscar trying not to listen at first and observing the fire situation with new found interest. But it was nearly impossible.

"This is all very cute, but if you don't stop and leave this for when you're alone, I'm going to personally throw myself into the fire," he stated, teasing the fuck out of Lando.

"Have fun burning, mate!" Lando replied immediately and pulled Y/N into an unhinged hug.

Y/N never felt better in someone's embrace. "I love someone who's not even wearing shoes outside," she proclaimed after a moment. "Thank god mom's not here."

//

Lando Norris (driver 4) obeyed the evacuation procedure, followed directions and cooperated at full capacity. Due to the nature of the situation, the team decided to pull Lando out of the premise as quickly as possible, which resulted in him evacuating barefoot. No injury detected.

After several drafts, this was what Rick decided to go with, while icing his black eye.

[t1red-twilight]

friends?

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, confession, cursing, pre-season 4

word count: 1.7k

masterlist d. w. masterlist

you were somewhere in reno, nevada trying to track down a poltergeist. you knew that dean and sam were nearby, but you had no clue how close they were. the motel you were currently staying at was on the nicer side, to be honest. the motel room had been decently cleaned, the television had some actually good channels, and the sheets were soft.

you had ordered takeout and were watching some shitty game show, the room only lit by the lamp on the nightstand in between the two queen sized beds.

right as you were about to take another bite, you heard a knock at your motel room door. well, the knock was more of a thud than anything.

you looked through the foggy peephole, only to see the top of someone’s head and a tuft of brown hair.

without unhooking the chain, you opened the door. only to be surprised to find dean winchester slumped in the doorway. “dean?”

to put it lightly, he looked like shit. there was a bit of matted blood on his hairline and he was holding his shoulder. not to mention the sweat that lingered on his body everywhere you could see it.

“i got shot.”

“what?”

there was a pause before he responded. “yeah, yeah. can i come in?”

“oh, of course. yeah. absolutely.” you removed the chain and opened the door enough so that he could come in. when he was inside, you poked your head out and looked around. you saw the impala parked very crooked in the spot next to your car.

you turned to see dean awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. you walked behind him and pulled out the chair from the desk, urging him to sit down wordlessly.

“i’m just going to wash up for a second,” you stated, walking to the bathroom. dean responded silently with a thumbs up. for whatever reason, you caught yourself in a haze. why was he here? was he actually okay? was sam okay? the warm water from the faucet somewhat lulled you out of your head. you patted your hands dry and walked back out to dean.

you gently tugged his jacket and flannel off, and pulled the arm of his short sleeved shirt up. he hissed in what you assumed to be pain. rubbing his back, you stood. “i have a first aid kit around here somewhere.”

“please, just make it quick. i’m bleeding out over here.” reaching into one of the cabinet drawers, you pulled out the first aid kit. after some years hunting, your first aid kit became more of a small hospital in a box.

you walked over to dean and kneeled to be eye-level with his shoulder. you grabbed his hand and had him hold up the bloodied sleeve of his shirt.

as you were tugging the bullet out of dean’s arm with long tweezers, you heard him repeatedly grunt in pain. “sorry,” you looked up at him. his face showed a screwed-up expression, his eyebrows drawn together.

all he responded with was a tightly knit, closed mouth smile that was very clearly strained. “dean, what did this to you?”

dean looked away at you and at the wall; he began to fiddle with the edge of his shirt sleeve. “you should see the other guy”

you snorted sarcastically.

“no, really. is sam okay?” you took out the disinfectant and prepped his arm.

dean inhaled shallowly. “it was just a mix up with some vampires. i knew that you were nearby, and sam sucks at stitches, so-“ he blurted, before you cut him off.

“…so, you’re keeping tabs on me?” you raised an eyebrow playfully while you readied the needle and thread. “i’m going in with the stitches now.”

“fuck,” he muttered. “thank you for the warning. jesus.” he paused, eyes flickering between yours and the floor. “it’s-uh, hard not to.”

you raised your eyebrows. “what do you mean?” what did he mean? yeah, you guys were friendly, but surely he wasn’t suspecting you of anything. you pretended not to hear the tone in his voice that indicated he meant something more than he was saying.

dean gulped. “i- we just like to know that you’re safe. that’s all.”

“okay you little creeper, i see how it is.” as you spoke, you finished up the stitches with a patch to cover them from any irritation. “i’m assuming you don’t need anywhere to stay tonight?”

he answered your question with another question; you began cleaning the wound on his forehead. “maybe i can just stay with you tonight? i’m sure sam wouldn’t mind,” he all but whispered the last part.

you stood after finally finishing patching him up. this view you weren’t used to, seeing him from above. you were even less used to seeing dean be so vulnerable. he had this look in his eyes, a sort of pleading. maybe he had picked that up from sam. “if you really want to, then you totally can.” you shrugged. “i was just finishing dinner, then i was going to clock out for the night.”

dean held up his hands. “by all means, finish your dinner.”

“eh, i’m not really that hungry anymore,” you joked. “i haven’t gotten in either bed yet. you can pick whatever one.” you closed the takeout box and placed in on the tv stand, the tv still playing the shitty gameshow. you had all but forgotten about it.

dean held a perplexing look on his face, he almost seemed distant. “i’ll take the window bed. you good if i sleep in my boxers?”

walking to the bathroom once more, you shrugged. “yeah, sure. i’m going to brush my teeth- just settle in before i’m done.”

by the time you emerged from the bathroom, dean had, in fact, settled in. he had pulled he sheets and duvet up to his chin, only his head being exposed. what a cute visual, you thought.

“i texted sam. i told him i was staying with you.” he barely even moved as he spoke.

you smiled at him lopsidedly, drawing the sheets back and sitting down. “that’s good,” you paused slightly, “can i turn the lamp off?” dean nodded. you turned out the light and pulled the sheets over yourself.

normally, dean’s snores would have filled the room rather quickly. however, you didn’t notice this as you started to drift off to sleep.

a couple of moments passed before dean decided to say something.

“hey,” dean whispered, “are you awake?” the silence that followed made dean think that maybe you were.

you grunted, but answered with words when he didn’t respond. “yeah. why?” the warm sheets held you in an embrace; one that you would surely disappear into if dean didn’t follow up quickly.

dean mumbled a response, “thank you for letting me stay with you.” the soft genuine nature of his tone made you think twice. what was he getting at?

“yeah sure, that’s what friends are for.” you hoped the smile could be heard in your tone, but anything could be said with how drowsy you were. that was the end of that, you assumed. dean just wanted to be extra sweet tonight, you guessed. weird.

dean all but blurred, “so, we’re friends?” so, maybe dean wasn’t being sappy, maybe something was up.

“what?” you asked confusedly.

his voice lowered in volume slightly. “we’re friends, that’s what you said,” dean remarked. that thing in his voice was there again.

your eyes shot open. “uh, yeah?” he didn’t answer. “dean?” this time, you sat up and looked at him. “dean?” the sheets fell around your torso; you looked to your side you could see that dean was wide awake. “you good?”

dean’s next statement shocked you to your core. “just this once, can you lie to me? please.” the words were seemingly aggressive, but paired with his tone of voice, it just felt to be desperate.

why would he want you to lie? “what? why would i lie to you?” you puzzled out loud, pulling the sheets closer to you again.

“maybe, tonight, we can just be more. just for tonight,” dean murmured. for the first time since he spoke up, he looked into your eyes.

his green eyes swirled with a mix of apprehension and excitement. his brow knitted together again.

oh.

that’s what he had been getting at; that’s what he had been getting at all night, and you were sure that he had been dropping hints far longer than just tonight.

but, you couldn’t stand to be a one-time-thing, even if it just was pg-13 and not anything sexual. you liked dean, a lot. you wouldn’t be able to brush this off. you would forever want him to be close to you; dean wouldn’t be a drug you could quit easily, or at all.

you gulped. “well,” here goes nothing, “maybe tonight isn’t enough for me.” you kept yourself turned toward him, but lowered your gaze.

“what?” this time, he only spoke out of anticipation. the kind of pure excitement and joy that a child has when they get a toy they’ve been asking for for ages.

“maybe i need every night,” you continued. you mustered up the courage to look him directly in the eye.

“that works for me,” he responded almost instantly.

a more calm silence settled over the motel room. you two would need talk this out later.

you laid back down, whispering, “you wanna come over here?”

dean sat up. “yeah.” swiftly, he picked up his feet and left his bed, padding over to your bed and pulling back the sheets little by little. you opened them fully and he climbed in.

it started with the pair of you laying down next to each other about a foot away from the other. until, dean reached out his hand under the covers to search for yours.

when he found it, he grasped your hand like it was his lifeline. then, he pulled your arm; meeting his eyeline, he flicked his head over in and effort to get you to inch closer to him.

you understood, and moved ever so slightly closer to him. dean reached his other arm over and tugged your head to lay upon his chest.

dean was warm, his heat filling you. his heartbeat resounded in your ears, drowning out the buzz of the crappy ac. everything about him was comforting to you; like he and you were meant to be.

“how about you stay with me and sam for a while?” dean whispered into your hair.

you closed your eyes again. “i’d like that,” you murmured.

you’d definitely have to address this later. but, for now, this was good. this was really good.

[hollybyrde]

Silver Linings

Written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘plug’

AO3 | Rated: G | WC: 437 | CW: Hospital, Near death injury | Tags: Post season 4, Canon divergent - Eddie lives, Pre-relationship, First kiss

“Eddie?”

Eddie eased open blurry eyes as a voice spoke softly somewhere above, the beeping and whirring of machines and sharp smell of industrial cleaners filling his nose telling him exactly where he was. 

Handy, since he couldn't seem to move or speak just yet to ask.

“I knew it.” The voice went on as something warm enveloped Eddie’s hand. “They wanted to pull the plug, but I told those assholes you wouldn’t give up so easy.”

The quiet, soothing tone was so familiar, yet it wasn’t until Eddie blinked away the fog and forced himself to focus on the hovering face that he realized who it was. 

He was a little paler than Eddie remembered, with heavy bags under his eyes and a healthy amount of stubble adorning his chin, but still the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen in real life.

A wonderful sight to be greeted with after…

Eddie didn’t want to think about it too hard, but remembered enough that it was easy to put the pieces together. Hovering near death he’d passed out in Dustin’s arms, but by some miracle he’d made it out. 

And he was pretty sure he was looking his miracle dead in the eyes, no pun intended, right now. 

Steve had been sitting at his bedside for a while, Eddie realized, hazy memories of the other boy talking to him in the dark fighting their way to the surface.

“I—we almost lost you.”

Steve's eyes shimmered, a hint of tears that Eddie desperately hoped wouldn’t fall when all he could do was watch, even if he didn’t understand what was happening. Sure they’d grown inexplicably close while fighting for their lives, and Eddie was crushing hard, but since when did Steve Harrington cry over him? 

Unless…

Eddie didn’t believe in much except good luck and bad luck, that what you give is what you get, and so on, but sometimes, when things got tough, he liked to think it was a pre-payment to the Universe.

As Eddie gazed up into gorgeous hazel eyes, focused on the comforting weight of Steve’s hand in his, he thought maybe, after the worst week of his life, he was due for some big karmic payback.

It would be days before Eddie could talk, longer still before he would get out of that bed and relearn how to walk but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He was there for every moment, good and bad. 

And on the day Eddie was finally released, when Steve took him in his arms and kissed him in celebration, he knew he was right. 

Great things were coming.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

[writebackatya]

Ducktales (2017) Holiday Headcanons:

It’s that time of the year again, time for me to dump a bunch of random headcanons! All of which relate to the holiday season cause I love this time of year!

Huey holds the record for most homemade Christmas presents given during the holidays thanks to his JWC skills. Webby is second

Louie wishes that homemade gifts were banned in the gift giving circle.

Dewey always hosts his annual Dewey Dew Night Holi-Dew Special in the Foyer in front of the Christmas tree, much to Beakley and Scrooge’s chagrin

Donald always insists on being the one to decorate despite the many accidents and holiday slapstick he gets involved in every year. They say, the amount of Holiday Slapstick Donald has been in could fill the entire ABC Holiday Special line-up

Now that Santa is no longer banned from McDuck Manor, he always stops and says hello the Duck family on his yearly delivery. Scrooge occasionally joins him and sometimes Scrooge’s Christmas ghost friends help out too

Bentina Beakley always makes the best hot chocolate with the right amount of marshmallows

The kids always go sledding with their friends on Killmotor Hill when the snow is perfect for sledding

Della still puts up a couple of traps every year “for old times sake”. The traps then immediately get taken down the very second Donald gets caught in one of them

Webby is the best gift giver

Huey, Dewey, and Louie got their “Picture with Santa” poses nailed

When given gift cards that are $15 or less from relatives, Huey, Dewey, and Louie will sometimes agree to combine their gift cards to buy something they all want

Drake, Launchpad, and Gosalyn are Jewish and all celebrate Hanukkah but one of their yearly traditions is watching The Darkwing Duck Christmas Special because Drake and Launchpad insist on watching it every year

Gandra Dee doesn’t celebrate Christmas, in fact she’s entirely anti-Christmas, but still chooses to celebrate Christmas with Fenton and his m’ma cause it beats being alone

M’ma Cabrera definitely watches a bunch of Hallmark Christmas movies. So do Huey Dewey and Louie. Also Donald. You know what, especially Donald

Donald’s favorite Christmas movie is It’s A Wonderful Life. It gets him emotional and he always breaks down when George Bailey is proclaimed “The Richest Man in Town”

Della’s favorite Christmas movie is Die Hard. It was her favorite pre-Moon, but the whole John McClane going through hell and trying to make things right with his family just hits a little too close to home these days. Also she says she could totally go through what John did

Dewey’s favorite Christmas movie is Home Alone. In fact he has even set-up a few Mccalister style traps in Donald’s boat house before. They weren’t perfect but they still worked on Donald. He was not the intended target.

Huey seems like A Charlie Brown Christmas kinda Duck

Both Donald and Della know it was Dewey who traveled back in time that one Christmas. Only problem is they don’t know what year it was he went back in time. They just assume it must’ve been on Christmas Eve cause that’s when they saw him. So now until Dewey looks a little bit older they will always be sure to greet Dewey with a mysterious “Welcome back” that sounds like it has multiple meanings whenever they see him after not seeing him for at least 5 min. on Christmas Eve. It’s a bit odd for Dewey to experience, ngl

Dewey and a few other family members will visit Launchpad and co. in St. Canard during one of the nights of Hanukkah to celebrate with them

Matilda always goes to Castle McDuck for the holidays

Donald usually sails back to Duckburg for Christmas, but on the years he can’t Della makes it her duty to FaceTime him on Christmas Eve

And now: The Worst Gift Givers of Clan McDuck

5. Louie, he’s a kid so I’ll cut him slack, but he should put more effort in his gifts. But he won’t

4. Goldie. Don’t ask her why the store security tag is still on

3. Gladstone Gander: King of the Last Minute Gifts, he’s lucky enough to get good deals that cost him next-to and sometimes nothing. Unfortunately the quality of gifts are “Acceptable.”

2. Gyro Gearloose. Just seems like someone who sees something and goes “Well that’s fine enough.”

1. Scrooge McDuck. Rich people suck at giving gifts. It’s a commonly known fact

Also this whole post was a ploy to read my holiday theme DuckTales anthology fic that shows some of these headcanons in action. Enjoy!

[i-dont-wanna-be-me-anymore]

“I Win” | Cagefighter!Logan x Cagefighter!male!reader

Logan x Male!Reader

HC’s about Logan and a cage fighter mutant!male reader

Warnings: blood and violence, mutant!reader, mention of guns, sexual implications, Logan has a pain kink?

Request by: @keigohawks

A/n: so, this was kind of a request that i saw, so I figured why not since I was already like in love with Logan. Also, Im ngl. Watching DP&W, i left the theatre feeling both sad cus of the end credits, and a little turned on.

SET PRE- X-MEN (2000)

—

• When Logan first met him, he wasn’t entirely what he expected. He actually wasn’t even looking at him when he saw him.

• Logan had been facing away from the wall as he heard people booing and yelling strings of curses at the man who just entered the cage. He turned and saw who he was up against. The man was beautiful, so much so that Logan had to do a double take upon seeing him.

• When the match started, Logan waited for the man to swing or at least do something, but he didn’t he just walked along the sides of the cage, watching his every movement. So, Logan charged at him, the metal in his bones making a hard impact as he punched the side of his face, watching him hunch over and spit out blood before he looked up at him, grinning.

• One thing led to another, and after several minutes of the two throwing each other against the walls, kicking each other’s stomachs, socking one another in the face; Logan ended up pinned down to the floor with the fighter’s fists swinging at him, left and right.

• Logan suddenly grabbed his arm and looked up at him, blood seeping down into his teeth from his injuries as he looked up at the man, smiling.

• The man squinted and pinned Logan’s arms down as he put them across his body, choking him with his own arms. Logan tried to use his enhanced strength to get him off, but it was no use, his efforts seemed pointless as the man was left un-harmed by his touch. With that, his vision went black.

• When he woke up, he saw the man sitting across from him, playing solitaire. Logan looked over the man, seeing that any sign of injuries on his face had gone away, or healed up just as soon as he got them.

• “Who are you?”

• One simple question led to him and the unknown, well now known, man to travel together in his truck.

• Logan had never had someone willingly want to go with him, it was always people looking for rides, people stealing his truck (and learning that it wasn’t the best thing to do), but now he actually had someone to talk to.

• Someone that he could actually call a friend.

• Y/n, he learned to be the unknown man’s name, was quite possibly the one person that actually care about him.

• And it even showed when he stuck by his side when finding out about the “X-Men.”

—

A/n: Short and sweet, also guys, I am currently between projects right now. I’m working on two TUA projects. One is Five x reader, that’s on here, and the other is an entire fanfiction, like s1-4 fanfiction, but I’m still on season 1. Anyways, that’s kind of why I took so long posting this. Lmk how this is and if you guys liked it

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Steve comes home from his first post-injury workout drenched in sweat and throws himself onto the sofa on his back. Robin winces as she watches him go, raising an eyebrow. 

“That bad?” She asks, to which Steve groans in response.

“They want me to wear a bubble.” Steve responds, digs his hand around inside the gym bag still attached to his side and lifts out the full face mask.

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea, protect your face at least.” Robin observes, only to be met by a glare from Steve. His facial expressions are making a triumphant return as he regains more control over his face as the wound heals, and he’s taking full advantage of his bitchy looks whenever he can.

“Says the one not blowing hot air back into their own face as they work out.” He grumbles, flopping back and dropping the mask onto his stomach. “Everything hurts. You’d think I’ve been out for months, not just a few weeks.”

“How’s the headache?” Robin predicts, and Steve gives her another look before he sighs. 

“It’s not bad, don’t overreact. It’s not the concussion.” He insists, ignores the way her eyebrow rises again and instead pushes himself up again. “I’m going to shower,” Steve announces, making a quick escape from Robin.

It’s not exactly that he’s lying, because he’s not. He doesn’t think anything he’s feeling is concussion-related. The soreness in his muscles is from suddenly being weighed down with his hockey gear again, after weeks without. It’s a similar feeling to the first workout of the pre-season. The headache is a little trickier to convince everyone around, so he’d avoided mentioning it and done his best to hide it at the rink. It’s no surprise Robin can just tell he has one, though.

He lets steam fill the bathroom before he steps under water so hot his skin turns pink. He lets the shower spray target the middle of his back, shifts so it settles between his shoulder blades, and rests his forehead against the cool tiles in front of him.

Eventually, he emerges back into the apartment in sweatpants, his hair air drying. Robin is setting a cup of hot tea down on the coffee table, her own tucked onto an end table beside her on the sofa. Steve smiles softly and mumbles his appreciation as he sits and takes a sip.

As he drains the cup, the headache eases a bit and he feels a bit more human than he had after returning home from his workout. 

“You got mail from your parents today,” Robin eventually offers over the New Girl re-run neither of them are particularly paying attention to but have on for familiar background noise. Steve just grunts, uninterested, and instead busies himself checking any messages he may have missed from people he actually cares to give the time of day. 

Dustin had demanded a “family dinner,” which Steve agrees to and warns Robin when to expect a full house. Max, traveling with the Blackhawks for a game tomorrow night, had sent him a detailed threat to not push himself too hard while working out. He responds with a video clip the trainer had taken of Steve nailing a series of wrist shots.

Steve tries hard not to be too disappointed that he hadn’t heard from Eddie. They’d texted about their plans for the day, Steve knew Eddie had said he’d be spending the day in his studio working on a few new tracks he was putting together. Still, though, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping he’d have found a text or two from the other in the time he hadn’t been looking at his phone, something that was quickly becoming a standard for the pair.

Biting back his pride, he decides to send the first text, figuring the other will answer whenever they’re wrapping up in the studio.

Steve: Hope you’re having a good studio session.

After a long few moments, Steve can’t help the little sigh he lets out as he buries himself into the throw pillows filling out the sofa beside him. Robin nudges him with a foot, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs back at her, turning his attention to the television. It isn’t long before he zones out, though, thinking and overthinking.

His injury has given him a lot of time to think about a lot of things; primarily what landed him off the ice. He’s only mentioned it to Robin, but he has been considering coming out to his coaching staff and league officials to give background on what seems like an otherwise unprovoked violent streak from Billy Hargrove. Steve learned, in the days he spent in LA after the attack on the ice, Billy had taken to calling him names and slurs with press and on social media. The trash talking had landed him another fine from the league, but it wasn’t slowing him down. It was more than enough to prove the attack was premeditated, if everyone who needed to know the background was read in on their history.

And while Billy was staying on the attack, his teammates were apparently squared up and ready to defend Steve in a way he probably should have expected but hadn’t seen coming. Each of the players who had gotten physically involved in fighting Billy after Steve had taken a stick to the face had made comments with press about how Hargrove plays dirty and mean. Several had also spoken out about Steve’s leadership and sportsmanship on and off the ice, throwing their support behind him through his recovery. 

Coming out to the league and his coaches also had the potential to alleviate some of the anxiety he was feeling around his personal life. There had always been concern about coming out, getting kicked off the ice and ending up without the one thing he knew best. Long before he’d joined the league, his father had impressed upon him that he would have to settle and make sacrifices if he wanted to stay with the sport, but Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep his sexuality bottled up and hidden away from the public.

In large part, it was easy to place blame on Eddie. The rockstar blew into his life and changed his perspective on what it was like to be a public figure, out and proud. Steve knew their status didn’t translate equally. Sports fans were different from fans of a band; Steve had joined a team with supporters who would cheer him on so long as he wore their colors and made them proud. Eddie’s fans had sought him out, decided to listen to his music and support him on their own. But for Steve to see Eddie carrying on with his life, not having to hide any part of himself or worry about not posting certain photos from their days in LA on social media (because what if they looked too suspicious and got people talking and asking questions?) was what Steve longed for. 

Chicago was a pretty open-minded town; it’s why he and Robin had first moved to the city to begin with. But it still wasn’t a guarantee that everyone would continue to support the team if he did publicly come out. And Steve was working to reconcile that in his mind; to gauge how much he should even care about it. A part of him knew the greater majority wouldn’t give a shit as long as he still scored goals and played a clean, fair and exciting game whenever he hit the ice. But the thought of those few who might push back too hard and how it could impact his teammates - his friends - in the long term is still what ate away at him.

“I can hear how loud you’re thinking over there.” Robin eventually says while he’s deep in thought, and he shoots her a small smile in response. “Look, Steve, you have to do what you think is best for you. Who gives a shit about anyone else.” She says.

He wishes it was that easy. He knows it could be, but he cares too much about the fallout to stop overthinking. They fall back into silence again, until Robin eventually closes her laptop and leans close to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s hair.

“You’re the best at what you do and if people can’t see that around the fact that you like guys, then that’s their loss.” She says, gently, before excusing herself off to bed.

Steve lounges around in the living room for a while longer, before he turns off the tv, grabs a blanket and makes his way out onto the terrace. He wraps the sherpa around his shoulders and drops into one of the loungers out there, looking out toward the skyline. It’s cold, but not as cold as it’s been, and he’s always found comfort in the winter weather, anyway.

His phone buzzes, catching his attention, and he smiles softly at Eddie’s name. When he answers FaceTime, he’s immediately met by chaos. It sounds like three voices are talking over each other, Eddie’s closest to the phone, making a loud ‘shhh’ sound until everyone around him is silenced.

“Did you mean to call me?” Steve asks around a smile, and watches as Eddie’s face lights up as he draws his attention.

“I did!” He insists, though Steve isn’t entirely convinced. “Want to hear what the track I’m mixing right now?”

Steve raised his eyebrow, only half sure he knows what Eddie’s talking about, before he nods. “Let’s hear it.” He agrees.

“Told you,” Eddie hisses at someone just out of the camera’s frame; probably one of the Corroded Coffin boys. Eddie taps a few buttons below the phone, then a soft guitar tune starts playing. It’s not like anything Steve has ever heard from the band before, gentler and softer. Other instruments crash in, in a more typical Corroded Coffin sound, for what Steve assumes will be a chorus once there’s a vocal track, but it slows back to just a guitar for the next verse. Eddie pauses the song and lifts the phone up again. “Thoughts and opinions are encouraged.”

“It’s different.” Steve says, still a little in awe.

“But not in a bad way!” He hears Gareth’s voice from somewhere in Eddie’s studio, and Steve nods in agreement.

“I don’t think it’s in a bad way, either. Just different. It still sounds like you guys in that middle part, when all the instruments join in. But the guitar, that’s… it’s soft and sweet and gentle. It works nicely, not that I know anything about music,” Steve laughs, and Eddie gives him a little smile.

“I appreciate your opinion,” he says, seeming to inspect the screen. “Your face looks a little less colorful. How was practice?”

“Fine, I’m sore now, though.” Steve admits, shifts and cracks his back.

“Gross!” Jeff cries from somewhere around Eddie, and Steve can’t help but laugh again.

“You should get back to working, I’m gonna head to bed soon anyway. We can talk tomorrow?” Steve asks, and Eddie nods. 

“Night, Stevie.”

~~~~

He hangs up the FaceTime, steals a pizza roll off Jeff’s plate, and re-opens the notes app on his phone. Scanning over the rambling notes he’d made himself about how he imagined the song would work out, he starts a new paragraph.

And he stares at the blank line before him.

“You’ve composed, like, 4 tracks and you can’t come up with a single lyric for any of them?” Freak asks, takes a pull from a joint burning in an ashtray near the sofa, and blows the smoke out away from the group.

“Very helpful insight,” Eddie grumbles, and Jeff leans forward. 

“Do you want us to help? Like, do you have a theme for the songs, or is this just going to be your own little pet project?” He asks.

“Well, I guess it depends. If you want to drop a surprise EP or double album after the one we’re putting out, I’m probably going to need help. But if you’re cool with letting me sit on it, I can probably figure it out on my own.” Eddie offers.

Gareth twirls a drumstick between his fingers. “I think we let Eddie handle the love songs about Steve Harrington, and if he comes up with enough to make into something to drop, we drop them whenever he’s ready, and if not, we throw them onto the next album or whatever when he’s ready to release them.” 

Eddie sighs and drops his head back against the rest of his swivel chair. “Can we stop calling them love songs about Steve?”

“Guess you have extra incentive to write lyrics to them, then,” Freak teases, and Eddie groans back, making the other boys laugh.

It isn’t much longer before they all excuse themselves to the rooms they claimed around the house. Eddie spends a few extra hours in the studio, working on as many lyrics as his brain allows and even sorts out bridge for the song he’d played for Steve before he heads off to bed.

He isn’t surprised to wake up the next morning to a text from Steve, who routinely gets up hours before Eddie and is always the first to send a text wishing him a good day ahead.

Eddie: Go easy on yourself on the ice today, you were up too late listening to headbanger music.

It’s a while before he gets a response, which isn’t uncommon. They both have their own lives which responsibilities to get up to. But Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting not-so-patiently for Steve’s next response. Freak flew out this afternoon, heading back to visit family in Ohio, leaving Gareth and Jeff at Eddie’s. They’re playing video games in the living room when Eddie’s phone rings with Steve’s name and ID photo.

“Hey, how was today?” Eddie asks immediately, launching himself off the sofa and away from the boys and the noise from the television.

“Well, that’s part of why I’m calling,” Steve says, sounding a little out of breath and hair damp with sweat, glancing off camera before he flashes a charming smile down at Eddie. “What are you doing Tuesday?”

His brain short-wires for a second, thrown off course by the response. Is this Steve, asking him out on a date? That can’t be it, right? There’s no way, not with the back-and-forth they have going on. There would be more to it than that, and Steve seems like the kind of guy to give more than 4 days notice for a date that requires at least one party to travel several states. So Eddie does his best to quickly calm and compose himself, hoping he hasn’t taken an alarmingly long time to answer, before he responds. “I don’t know, what am I doing Tuesday?”

“I think you’re coming to watch the Blackhawks play the Predators in Nashville. I’m allowed to travel and suit up, but I probably won’t play just yet.” Steve is grinning, and Eddie can’t help but smile back.

“Hell yeah, I’ll be there!” He agrees, already pulling up the link to buy tickets for the game. “If I get shamed for wearing my Harrington jersey to a Preds game, you get to take the blame for me rooting against my home away from home.” Eddie teases, and Steve lets out a breathy laugh.

“Bring it on,” he challenges, finally seems to Eddie like he’s caught up and gotten back the quick wit and sharp humor which had been on a slight delay since the injury. A sign of recovery, Eddie’s sure and it helps to see him returning to normal.

They catch one another up on their days, and Eddie lets Steve listen to a few more of the tracks they’ve been working on over the last few days, but stops before the lyrics start in the only one he and Jeff have crafted words to so far, not ready for Steve to hear it yet.

As they’re talking, Eddie gets a notification he almost swipes away without reading, but Steve’s name catches his attention, so he drags it down and reads over the words.

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie realizes the face he must be making is ridiculous. 

“Oh, uh. I just got a notification about you?” he mumbles back, and texts the link to Steve.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to look confused as Eddie reads over the headline again.

Hockey Legacy Harringtons to Host Joint Fundraiser

Steve reads the words and seems to immediately understand them in a way Eddie can’t, and he closes his eyes in a heavy sigh. “I promise you, my life is not usually this dramatic.” 

Eddie hates how miserable Steve seems all of a sudden; regrets passing the link on but knows he would have found out eventually and gotten upset anyway. “Dude, really, I don’t even know what that means, so it’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though. This is my parents, deciding that I’m worthy of being their son again because I’m getting a bunch of positive press after the injury. So my name gets to be included in the gala invitation, which I have been excluded from since juniors, by the way.” It’s still piecemeal, the information Eddie is able to take away from Steve’s explanation, but it’s enough to get the general gist of the issue.

“Ah. So, the dad who convinced you to self-sabotage is now trying to take credit for your sportsmanship?”

“Something like that,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie can see how he’s holding the phone differently, typing out a text. “I think I have to get Robin and we need to figure this out, sorry to jump off like this. But, I’ll see you at the Preds game? We can grab dinner after?”

“It’s a date.”

Eddie physically can’t stop the words before they’re out of his mouth, and immediately waits for a hole in the ground to open up and suck him in and put him out of his misery. But Steve just raises an eyebrow, smiles and shrugs. “Not yet, but. Sure.”

Then, Eddie stares at himself in the reflection of his phone after Steve ends the FaceTime call and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with Steve Harrington, who keeps finding new ways to catch him off guard.

[startrekprodigyfan]

Okay, this is going out to the die-hard old-school Trekkies. And I’m going to be including spoilers because at this point if you haven’t been watching Prodigy yet, this is the only other way I know how to convince you to start! And even seeing spoilers won’t give you any context to the how or why they’re there, so that should hopefully give you incentive to watch the show!

For starters, what is Prodigy? Star Trek Prodigy is a 3D animated Nickelodeon show meant to introduce kids to the world of Star Trek. But don’t let the “kids show” title fool you, this is a show for ALL ages and even the most die-hard Trekkie will find something about it to enjoy.

The story centers around a group of alien kids who have been imprisoned on a mining asteroid as they stumble upon an abandoned Federation Starship and use it to escape with the hopes of one day joining Starfleet.

Are you happy that Star Trek is back but haven’t been excited or jazzed much about some of the recent shows? Then please watch Star Trek Prodigy! Here’s a visual list of things to expect to appease your continuity and cannon loving hearts:

1) The Enterprise D bridge on the holodeck, alongside Uhura, Odo, Doctor Crusher, Scotty, and Spock (using original legacy voice clips for many of the characters too)

2) The original Enterprise (non-Strange New Worlds) bridge!

3) An explanation for what happened to the original Galileo shuttle craft from the TOS series.

4) Both the original Vice Admiral Janeway and the new Hologram Janeway.

5) Wesley Crusher!

6) The Voyager-A!

7) Chakotay and the Holographic Doctor!

8) Original TNG (pre-First Contact) style Borg!

9) Legacy side characters returning such as The Outrageous Okona, voiced by the original actor Bill Campbell!

Currently the show is on Netflix. There are two seasons, 20 episodes each season that run around 24-30 mins long each for a grand total of a whopping 40 episodes! And there’s hopes that if Netflix thinks the show is worthy a 3rd season could be ordered. But only if you watch it now and get those ratings and viewership numbers up!

Please! Prodigy needs the help! Paramount+ canceled the show and yanked it from streaming before season 2 could even air (it had already been completed too)! Through a grass-roots campaign fans were able to get Netflix to pick it up and release the second season! Without Netflix this show would’ve just disappeared!

So please… if you love old school Trek and just want to exist in this world, you’re going to love Prodigy! And trust me, even those spoilers I showcased don’t even begin to scratch the surface of what this show has to offer!

[libraryofloveletters]

Chapter One: United Front

Jenson Button x Teammate!Fem!Reader

Warnings: new teams, friendships are being built and brought down at the same time, jenson is a bit unsure how to feel now that the spotlight isn't on him, jealously, championship fights are coming from inside the house, so many feelings, the basis of the story is being built here, the initial sweetness wears off.

Word Count: 2,520

Author's Note: welcome to the new series! I promise I will try to be consistent, I'm excited to see what's in store.

Bound By Fate Masterlist

--

Young and naive; the headline that covered all the front pages from the moment you stepped foot on track.

You, y/n l/n, were all but 22 years old when you had your Formula One debut. Mclaren had been good to you, Ron was more than happy to have you on the team - young, fresh talent, no one does it like you.

The first year had been painstakingly hard, it was a big jump from test driving. A fuck up on a closed track doesn't have a much of an impact as one on a full, live track with thousands of people watching. It took you a few tries - Australia, Malaysia, China, Bahrain and Spain before you found yourself in sunny Monaco.

Your first points, your first podium finish. It was insane to think you managed to get your first points and podium on the same day.

That was the day you knew you were doing what you were supposed to be doing. That you did deserve your spot there and you were going to do everything in your power to prove to everyone that you were worthy of it.

You proved your worth, despite getting a late start on your point scoring, you managed to rack up 73 points over the course of the season. By the end of it, you were all but 4 points short of the championship podium. Speaking of championships, you remember the day as if it was yesterday.

The rain brought a sense of excitement with a tiny bit of fear. You and Lewis were starting P6 and P7 and the current championship contender, Jenson Button was in P12. All he needed to do was score 5 points, needing to move up from P12 to P4. He didn't do it coming in one place short but still winning the championship by a landslide, washing Sebastian and his own teammate, Rubens, out.

When the news broke that Jenson would be moving to Mclaren, you felt every emotion possible; happy, sad, nervous, scared, calm.

You had no idea what you were in for, unsure if you two were going to get along or if he'd be an arrogant stuck up prick. Up until that point, you had very minimal contact with Jenson. A hi and hello in passing, a chat at press conferences; you weren't part of the inside jokes or the hang outs, you were there to race and that was that.

It took only the pre season and before you knew it, the two of you clicked like the last two pieces of a puzzle.

"When your drivers get along, it's easier to work, to fight for wins, for championships." Jenson read the quote from Ron, a bass added to his voice as he paced the length of your hotel room. The two of you had returned from dinner not too long ago; a post podium tradition you've built in a short time.

"He'd be pissed if he heard you," you tell him, sitting cross legged on the bed. Jenson shrugs, tossing the newspaper he picked up from the lobby onto the nightstand, flopping down next to you.

"Oh well," Jenson tells you, looking over at you. "Good job today, I don't think I told you."

You two had come in P1 and P2, Jenson taking second place as he's done the last 3 races.

"Yeah, thanks." You smiled, "you did well too."

The two of you had been in contention for the championship all season, fighting for P1 and P2 back to back all season. This was your second season as teammates and you were having a better run than the first time. The first season, you were close, right behind Sebastian and Mark; you in P4 and Jenson in P3.

It was a year of dominance for McLaren, for you and for Jenson.

Despite what the reporters were predicting, you and Jenson were as close as always, nothing but 4 single points separating the two of you.

4 points was all that separated the two McLaren drivers going into the summer break, you in P1 and Jenson in P2. You had one more race before the break, a chance for Jenson to push himself into the first place spot for the break.

You weren't giving in.

Friends or not, you had cemented yourself in the P1. You belonged there, you worked too hard to let it go. You'd do anything to make sure you stayed there, playing dirty if need be.

--

You and Jenson find yourself sitting apart from each other, Sebastian and Fernando between the two of you. There's a sea of reporters in front of the 4 of you; the 4 drivers in the first 4 slots of the championship.

All but a few points keeping all of you apart, it really was anyone's game at this point.

The first reporter speaks, starting the questioning. "Jenson, as we head into the summer break, do you feel confident that you can secure those 4 points and ultimately beat your teammate in the standings?"

Jenson chuckles, glancing over at you. "It's possible, 4 points isn't a lot but knowing y/n, she's going to put up one hell of a fight."

You smiled at his response, nodding. Sebastian chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. He knew you just as well as Jenson did, the two of you have had it out on track. You gave it your all every race, you didn't have anything to lose.

The same reporter added another question but directed to you now. "Y/N, with the upcoming race this weekend, do you plan to give Jenson a bit of a break and let him secure those 4 points, or will you be pushing hard to keep your position ahead of him?"

You picked up the mic, "why should I give him a break? I know we're teammates but we're not fighting for the good of the team, we're both in contention as of right now. Both Jenson and myself are here to win, a win is a win. I know Jenson wouldn't give me a break, so I'm not planning on giving him one."

The reporters seem to be eating up the answers from both you and Jenson, the spotlights were on you two. There's a few more questions being asked.

You and Jenson are the picture of perfect teammates, or at least, that's what you want everyone to believe. On the surface, you're both laughing, exchanging inside jokes, and giving off all the right signals of camaraderie. But beneath the surface, something's shifting; something neither of them seems to notice yet.

Small moments linger too long, words are said with just a touch more edge, and there's a tension in the air that no one can quite put a finger on. The rest of the room feels it, though, the subtle cracks beginning to show, the invisible divide growing wider with each passing moment.

It’s only a matter of time before it all comes to a head, and when it does, no one will be able to pretend it was ever fine.

Dismissed from the press conference, you find yourself prepping for the race, going  through your usual routine. You get dressed, pull your hair back into a braid and you get yourself hyped for the race and always, you wait for Jenson, the two of you heading to the grid together.

P3 for you and P2 for Jenson. Sebastian was on pole with Fernando in P4 along with the rest of the cars lined up behind you.

It was windy and grey, you looked up at the sky, trying to see if the rain would come down. Your engineer, Mac, tells you not to worry about the weather. If need be, you'll pull in and switch to wets.

You didn't like this.

There’s a gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, your stomach twisted in on itself. A sense that something’s off, but you can’t put your finger on it. Everything looks fine on the surface, but there's something about the way the air feels thick.

You can’t shake the sense that something is about to go wrong. You just don’t know what or how.

It’s like waiting for a storm you know is coming but can’t quite see. The feeling lingers, heavy, and all you can do is wait for the shoe to drop, knowing it’s only a matter of time.

You look up at the sky once more, the grey clouds rolling in over the Hungaroring, you can't help the unsettling feeling that's creeping up on you.

There's a hand on your shoulder, bringing you back to the present. Jenson stood in front of you with a cheeky smile, "taken up bird watching, y/n?" He asks.

"Shut up," you huffed, smiling at him with your arms folded over your chest. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good luck." You smiled and Jenson returned the smile. "Yeah, you too."

You put your helmet on, getting into the car. Last minute checks to make sure comms were working and everything was in order. You go over weather changes and the plan with Mac once more before he pats your head, giving your shoulder a squeeze and the grid clears off.

You couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. One last look up at the grey clouds, the fans standing around with umbrellas and ponchos in case of the rain. Your focus on the lights ahead.

3..

2..

1..

Lights out.

It’s been a tough race, the kind that keeps you on the edge of your seat. The three of you, fighting tooth and nail for P1, constantly swapping positions. Every lap felt like a high-speed chase between you, Jenson, and Sebastian. You had the advantage at some points, then Jenson would slip past, and Sebastian was always lurking, waiting for any opening.

The intensity of it was like nothing else, the tension thick with every corner.

Just as the race was reaching its peak, the skies darkened. What had been a perfect, dry track quickly turned into an unpredictable nightmare.

The rain began to fall, light at first, then harder, turning the surface into a slip and slide. Drivers were forced to change, and the pace slowed dramatically. Every move became a calculated risk, and tire management was now as crucial as ever.

With the rain coming down harder, the decision was made: time to pit for wets. The pit crews were ready, and as you peeled off into the pit lane, the world outside seemed to blur. Tires were changed quickly, but it was a crucial moment, getting it wrong could cost you.

When you rejoined, the race was no longer about who was fastest, but who could keep their cool as conditions got difficult.

In the end, it was Sebastian who managed to hold on, keeping P1 until the checkered flag waved. You pushed hard for that last minute move, and came in just behind him to secure P2. Jenson held his ground, taking P3, making it a tight top three right to the finish.

Despite not getting the win today, the results put you in a good spot.

With that P2 finish, you still managed to maintain your lead in the championship standings, staying ahead of Jenson and Sebastian as the midseason break rolled in.

It’s a small gap, but it’s enough.

You head into the break in P1, with the knowledge that you’ve got what it takes to hold onto the top spot. The competition is strong, but the battle is far from over. Every point counts, and you’ve just set the stage for what promises to be a hectic and messy second half of the season.

You all stand together for the photos at the top of the podium, the bright flashes of cameras filling the air. There’s something different about Jenson.

You can feel it, a subtle coldness coming from him, a distance that wasn’t there before. As you glance his way, you catch his eye for a split second, but instead of him acknowledging it, he quickly turns to speak to Sebastian, his attention fully on the German.

The moment is brief, but it leaves a strange feeling lingering.

You tell yourself it’s probably nothing, just the exhaustion from such an intense race. Emotions run high after a race like that, and maybe the tension is just getting to everyone. You try to brush it off, chalking it up to the pressure of the day, the fatigue that comes with giving it everything on track. But even as the photos continue and the celebrations roll on, you can’t help but wonder if something's changed.

The 3 of you together for a photo, covered in confetti, champagne and rain, there are smiles on your faces, your arm around Seb, bottle of champagne in your free hand. Jenson's focus is on Sebastian, he doesn't even so much as look at you.

After the podium, you head straight to the press pen, where interviews are lined up and the usual buzz of reporters fills the air. You and Jenson are across from each other, each doing separate interviews, the distance between you both oddly noticeable now, the tension from before the race smothering everyone in its vicinity.

The reporter in front of you smiles and asks, “How’s everything going? How are you feeling after today’s race?”

You nod, trying to keep things positive, even if there's a strange weight hanging in the air. "I’m good," you say, smiling. "Happy with the points, happy for the team. A double podium is a good result, and we’ll take it."

Meanwhile across the pen, Jenson’s interview seems to take a different turn. When Jenson was asked about his race, he didn't hold back.

“I wish I’d been P1," he says bluntly. "But I’m focused on the bigger picture. The championship is what matters. What other drivers get in the standings? Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

The reporters picking up on the contrast, turn back to him. “Y/N had some nice things to say about your drive today," one of them says.

Jenson barely looks up, his response flat. "I’m sure she did," he mutters, brushing it off without a second thought.

It’s a small moment, but the tension in the air is palpable. Everyone in the room feels it, the growing divide between you and Jenson.

Somehow, you’re the only one who doesn’t see it. For you, it’s just another race, another round of interviews. The contrast between the two of you couldn’t be more apparent.

You, still smiling, still positive, unaware of the ice that’s slowly creeping into Jenson’s tone. You had no idea what was brewing just beneath the surface. You hadn’t picked up on the subtle shift; the small moments when Jenson used to smile at your jokes, the times he’d offer advice after races, the camaraderie you thought you shared.

Now, it was like you were looking at a stranger.

But it’s clear to everyone else that something’s shifting, and the cracks are starting to show.

---

taglist: @67-angelofthelordme-67 @clementinesjuice @tazskylarstonguepiercing @amelielazozo @percervall @elissa-shelby @that-aesthetic-chic @vi0letblu3s @reiofsuns2001 @23victoria @sebvettelsgirl @Briannash-worlds @Darkomiomi @ru-kru @Myescapefromthislife @mehrmonga @dear-fifi @steamy-smokey @aishisorbet12 @feelslikealbon @kimiracing07

see the masterlist to add yourself to the taglist!

[totghostly]

viktor x male disabled cane user reader

FEMALES, MINORS, NON MLM DNI

no season 2 spoilers. light mentions of s1 events? could be pre-s1 or during.

-- reader is implied to be like 2-4 years younger maybe?? he/him user. could be romantic or platonic. Jayce is here for a good time not a long time LMAO

safe for touch repulsed people, POC, fat, trans, and disabled readers. Written with a transmasc self-insert in mind. Could be any disability that causes pain and fatuige that reader uses a cane for. written by an author with either POTS and EDS or early arthritis.

People don't realize how embarrassing it is to be disabled and have to use an aid. To have the equivalent to a flashing sign that says "try to fix me!" on it. To be "too young" to use it, "too healthy".

Viktor was okay with nonody understanding. He's the Co-Scientist of Hextech, why would he care what some topsider thought? He never boticed how lonely it was to have nobody who gets it. Nobody who understands the frustration, all beacuse your body doesnt work normally. There's not a lot of topsiders that he sees with visible disabilities.

Jayce had been trying to get him to agree to let his friend work at the lab, sense he had went to engineering school a few years after Jayce and Viktor. Viktor, for good reasons, was hesitant to agree to have a stranger working on his lifes work. He agreed, though, when Jayce had sworn he was probably just as competent as them both, maybe more. Though, Viktor found that hard to believe.

The first day he seen him, He got to the lab during a Council meeting and was at his desk for most of the day. He left late into the evening, saying his goodbyes to Jayce and waving softly to Viktor, who reciprocated and went back to work before he left. For someone who prides himself on how observant he is, Viktor is shocked he didn't realize his new lab partners cane earlier on.

He only really noticed it because reader arrived later, something around ten AM. He had his cane in hand while he walked, bag over his shoulder as he yawned. Jayce greeted him, asking if he was okay just to get a curt "it's okay, I'm fine!" as reader sits at his desk.

Viktors mind had been going back to the younger man rather frequently that day, watching as he shifted on his stool, or tried to stretch his legs to get some of the pain to ease away to no avail. Viktor seen the look in his eyes, that haze. Jayce had went to get more parts, sense they had been low for a while and they needed them for their tasks that day. Around a half hour later, Viktor walked up to Readers desk, and sat in a spare stool.

He greets the other, Reader looking up at him as he mumbles a reply. "How ehm.. are you feeling?" he hesitantly asked. He wanted as Reader shifted, "I'm .. fine." He shrugs, taking a swig of his drink. Viktor lets him lie. It can be hard to admit you arent okay.

After a few minutes, Reader leans onto his desk. "..this sucks." he sighs, and Viktor nods. "да." Reader groans in frustration. "I dont know why I cant work like a normal guy." He mumbles, arns coming up to cusion his head. "Life is err.. Unfair, to good people." Viktor says, matter of fact. He scoots closer to Reader, not touching them. His presence is comforting enough though.

It's an unspoken "I'm here. I understand. I see you." and he hopes Reader feels it. He'll be here, whenever Reader needs to vent about it, if ever. Wether it be the frustration , The pain, or just.. How people treat you. He understands. And one day he hopes everyone will care enough to try and understand too.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt4

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

A/N: took me a while to update but here it is! Let me know your thoughts about this

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @cristianovettel

2010, Bahrain International Circuit

Seb: Hey, did you already leave? Can we talk? Seb: Happy holidays Y/N, I hope you are spending time with the family Seb: Its a new year, I hope you get a better year. Seb: Aren't you going to pre-season testing? Seb: Hope to see you in Bahrain

Y/N sighed as she read the messages over and over again. It's quite an asshole move to leave Sebastian on read but Y/N couldn't bring herself to reply to the messages because she was hurt by their last conversation. The heavy feeling is even more aggravated because all she ever wanted was to hear a simple sorry from Sebastian.

Unfortunately, that's the only message that Sebastian hasn't sent.

"Are you still not talking with Sebastian?"Mark enters the room.

Mark knew that Sebastian and Y/N had a fallout after Abu Dhabi. At first, he was a bit clueless about what's happening but with Y/N constantly shutting herself in her room and Mark getting a glimpse of the one-sided conversation-it was difficult to ignore it.

The whole thing became even more hard to ignore when Sebastian resulted to texting Mark over the winter break to check on Y/N. Mark tried to ask Sebastian about what happened but Sebastian said that he just said some things that can make a friend feel hurt.

Bullshit, that's what Mark said in his mind. He knew that her sister won't be moping and act like this if its something as simple as that.

"I don't wanna talk about him" she grumbled.

"You know that you have to talk to him eventually"Mark ever the rational "He is our co-worker and we have to be professional in work."

It's something that Y/N knows. She knows that she will not place her professionalism in jeopardy but as much as she could she would delay talking to Sebastian. Her fear is that if she ends up forgiving Sebastian, without him asking for it, then this situation might repeat again.

"I won't let work interfere with Seb"Y/N assured.

There was a silence between the two Webbers. It was a comfortable silence where they seem to be using their siblings communication signals to determine if they should push the topic or not.

"He got pole position today, it might give Red Bull a fight for championship don't you think" Mark offered "Maybe you can talk to him like congratulate him for a conversation starter"

"I'm well-aware Mark, I have been watching the qualifying"

She was actually debating whether she would say a simple congrats knowing how proud Sebastian is with his pole. If this was last year, she would have been there at the parc femme. However, things aren't easy like that.

"You can talk to me about anything okay?" Mark reminded. Maybe at the back of Mark's head, he feels like there are more to this than just a petty friendship fight. But he didn't want to push her sister to being annoyed with his constant questions.

"I promise I will when the time is right."

"You know maybe if Sebastian loses the race then maybe you should see it as a sign to talk to him"Mark joked a bit to lighten the mood

"That's mean"Y/N playfully punched her brother "That's never going to happen he is on pole"

"Why not if he does not get a podium finish then you will talk to him"

"Are you seriously jinxing your team Mark?"Y/N laughed

"Okay, that's a deal"

"I tell you that its never gonna happen"Y/N assured.

And its like the universe played a cruel joke on Y/N, Sebastian did not have a podium finish. He still finished 4th but knowing Sebastian, the German driver is obviously frustrated.

Mark did not finish well but he has this knowing smirk on his face as he nudged his sister's ribs. Y/N resisted the urge to slap him at the back of his head since they were in front of a lot of Red Bull sponsors.

"Go on and talk to him" Mark whispered"I promise to behave here"

Y/N took a detour to the catering and grabbed an orange. She immediately went to Sebastian's driver room where she saw Britta exiting.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" she quizzed the younger Webber "I thought you and Seb weren't in speaking terms"

"Well I think with what happened today then I have to check up on him"Y/N replies.

Britta could just hug Y/N because she knows that Sebastian was really in a terrible mood after losing out the podium. It would mean a lot for Y/N to speak to Sebastian before Britta could bring him back for media duties.

"I'll stall the media for a bit, I'm giving you 10 minutes okay?" BrItta informed

"Thanks B"

Y/N felt nervous whether how to start a conversation with Sebastian. She fiddles with the orange in her hand as she walked in the room to seek the German driver.

"Seb?"

Sitting in the corner of the room, Sebastian looked up. His eyes were red, obviously from crying, and his hair was in complete disarray.

"Y/N?" Sebastian was confused "You're here?"

"I figure you need an orange"

In essence, Y/N didn't want to brush things off like that. She didn't want to appear out of the blue and be friends with Sebastian again. But the moment that Sebastian hugged her, it all melted away. She thought of nothing else as she missed this.

Sebastian too was thinking of the same thing. He wanted to apologize in person and he wanted to do it right now. However, he didn't want to ruin the moment. He just got her back.

Somehow its both of their fault that they brush off things like that.

2010, Albert Park

Sebastian, Mark, and Y/N arrived in Australia a couple of days before the race so as tradition goes Sebastian was once again a guest to Webber's family dinners. Sebastian feels at home with the family and even helped with the dinner preparations.

"Where's Y/N" Mr. Webber asked

"Y/N went to the market to buy some lemons that mum needs" Mark informed "She should have been here an hour ago"

"Should I give her a call?" Sebastian asked

Like a perfect cue, the door opens revealing Y/N.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I got a little bit of a car problem and its a good thing that I got someone to help me. "Y/N greeted "I hope you don't mind setting up another plate for dinner"

Of course, no one minded. The table was big enough to add guests. Sebastian was bringing the plates to the dining room when he was surprised to see Jenson Button standing there.

"What are you doing here" Sebastian was quick to ask

"Jenson is the one that helped me fix my car, thank God for drivers right?" Y/N replies

This annoyed Sebastian greatly but he knows that he cannot let his emotions get the best of him. He remembered how he acted the last time in Abu Dhabi and he surely doesn't want a repeat of that. It's just so annoying that Jenson Button is always at the scene of the crime when it comes to Y/N.

"Jenson?" Mark was also confused "You are in Australia early"

"Got an early flight, I was touring around and then I saw Y/N" Jenson smiles.

Knowing the previous history of Y/N and Jenson, Mark was also very skeptical. The seating arrangement ended up with Y/N between Mark and Sebastian while Jenson is sitting across Sebastian.

Dinner went on great, the dishes were great, but Sebastian could not shake this horrible feeling in his stomach. He hated how Jenson was mingling well and joking around with the whole family. Jenson had a way with Mrs. Webber, complimenting her food and the homey space decorations.

Still, Sebastian tried to push the green monster of envy away.

"Jenson, didn't you date my daughter Y/N before?" Mr. Webber remembered

"DAD"Y/N and Mark immediately hissed

"What, I'm just curious that's all" the eldest Webber defended

Jenson had a boyish smirk gracing his face and Sebastian wanted to punch that smirk on his face. He knew that if he didn't punch Jenson then Mark would.

"Well we went on a date for one time but that's it were good friends" Jenson explained

"But why Y/N, Jenson seems like a good lad plus he is a world champion" Mrs Webber butted in.

She seems to have grown fond of the British driver in such a short span of time. Her fondness is a stark contrast to the irritation that Sebastian has been feeling.

"Me and Jense are cool as friends, right?" Y/N cleared out

"Well if you wanna go on a date again, I wouldn't mind"Jensen jokingly stated.

Jealousy is a disease that Sebastian Vettel is inflicted with. Maybe its because Jenson already has two things that he really wanted which is a championship and a date with the girl he really liked. But whatever Sebastian was feeling, he kept it at bay for the sake of peace.

Anyways, he can run over Jenson on track.

2010, Sepang International Circuit

Y/N has to say that this is a very difficult start of the season for Red Bull. Mark and Sebastian went on winning poles yet they haven't won during the actual races. To say that she was ecstatic to see the Red Bull P1-P2 for today's race is not enough to describe how she is feeling.

Looking up at the podium and seeing the two drivers smiling at each other, Y/N took that opportunity to snap a photo of them. She prayed for more weekends like this as both drivers deserve this kind of victories.

Once the celebration ended, she went back to the motorhome to get her things and to meet up with the two drivers. However, she saw a group of Red Bull crew huddled up in a corner.

It was not her business to eavesdrop but hearing her brother's name being mentioned, she stayed hidden to hear what they have to say.

"Mark is an unfortunate case, he could have won today" one of them voiced out "He was at fault for losing his pole advantage a while ago"

"True and Vettel is obviously a better driver, look at him creating history and he just started last year"another mechanic agreed.

"I heard from Helmut that Vettel will be there championship bet"

"What happens to Mark then?"

"He will settle being a second driver and defending Sebastian obviously"

"Do you think Mark would agree?"

"If I were Mark, I would look for another team. There is no chance for a championship here if my teammate is obviously better than me"

All the highs that she has been feeling a while ago has faded into nothingness. Y/N felt herself conflicted with the situation ahead. If what they are saying is true then Y/N would be the one that will be in the middle of that battlefield.

This is Mark's dream for so long to win a championship. He have done his best to improve himself, she has seen the sleepless nights he had and how hard he tries to get a podium win every single race.

On the other hand, Y/N has also seen Sebastian's tears whenever he failed to finish or deliver. She knows that Sebastian lives and breathe racing for as long as he can remember. He wanted a championship badly as well.

It is just unfair that one of them has to compromise for the team. There shouldn't be a first driver or second driver but Y/N understands that every team had this. She felt miserable as she remembered hearing what happened to Rubens when he was the second driver to Michael Schumacher. She didn't want anyone to feel that way, ever.

"Y/N! Hello earth to Y/N"

In her deep thoughts, she haven't noticed that Mark and Sebastian was in front of her. Both were still in their race gear and the champagne smell wafts through the air.

"Oh, I didn't see you there Mark and Seb" Y/N emphasized loudly on their last name so that those gossip crew would be aware that the two are around.

"You're acting weird, we have been calling you for a long time already." Mark confusedly stated.

"Never mind about that, I just got a lot of things going on" Y/N assured

"Hey Nico invited us for dinner, let's celebrate?" Sebastian asked

"Sure, sure"

The two Red Bull drivers are laughing and joking around as they walked around with Y/N. Y/N tried to smile and join them but there was something that has been bugging her head.

In the end, she will put that conversation she heard of in the back of her head. She prays that it never happens because if she will be forced to choose sides, she didn't want to do that.

2010, Monte Carlo Circuit

Sebastian remembered how last year, Y/N has been a bit sick during Monaco so she was unable to do a yacht trip. Mark kept on sending her photos. It was meant to be a good gesture and to let her know that he misses her but it only made Y/N a lot more upset. She ended up texting Sebastian and whining about how that stupid stomach bug made her miss out this golden opportunity.

Yacht trips and the lavish life of Monaco is certainly not Sebastian's style. This is why it is common that he would be the last person to go to Monaco and the first one to leave. So just imagine everyone's surprise when he was in Monaco 3 days early for race week and he was going around looking for yacht trips.

It comes even more of a surprise when Y/N Webber has also been spotted in Monaco quite early for the race. No Mark Webber in sight though which raises everyone's eyebrows.

"So care to explain to me what are we doing?" Y/N asked.

She was dying of curiosity ever since Sebastian asked her to come early to Monaco. It was rare that Sebastian was so secretive because he will normally blabber everything to her.

"I'm not telling you until we get there" comes Sebastian's teasing comment.

"Oh c'mon I flew all over the world to see you"

"It's worth it, I promise"

Sebastian drove around Monaco and finally reaching the docks. He can feel that Y/N has the gears in her head already turning. There was an excited look on her face when she realized what they are about to do.

"Sebastian Vettel, tell me you did not!"Y/N tried to control her excitement "Are we really going on a yacht trip?"

"Well its your birthday week so I figure you might need a tour around Monaco on a yacht"Sebastian's nonchalant answer caused Y/N to scream.

It was a dream come true for Y/N. She had been dreaming of going around Monaco on a yacht for so long but her duties as Mark's assistants coupled by several unfortunate events prevented her from doing that dream.

Sebastian led her to the yacht and the two set off for an entire day of the yacht experience. Y/N wouldn't know but Sebastian specifically learned how to yacht for this purpose and this purpose only. He also called Mrs. Webber to ask for Y/N's favorite dishes so he has them prepared for lunch and dinner.

The whole day was spent floating around Monaco. They took a swim at one point and now they are lounging at the front while waiting for the sun to set.

"This is really a lot of effort Seb, thank you" Y/N began "I really appreciate this whole day"

If only Sebastian could tell her that he should be the one thanking her. Seeing her happy makes him extremely happy.

"It's nothing much" that's how Sebastian managed to answer

Y/N rolls her eyes, she sees right through that lie. Maybe for Sebastian this is nothing much but for her who doesn't earn as much as an F1 driver then this is really a lot.

"Oh before I forget, I still have one gift left" Sebastian said "Here you go"

It was a small black box with a gold ribbon. There was a scrawl on it in Sebastian's handwriting saying happy birthday Y/N. It made the girl raise her eyebrows.

"Seb I can't accept this, this seems really pricey"

Y/N got that right. Sebastian spent a long time looking for this gift since he customized it and it took a while for it to be created. But of course, Sebastian won't admit to that.

"Just take it" Seb pushed the gift back to her.

"I'm scared to open it" she whines

"Okay what if you don't open it and then I'll just hand it to you" Sebastian suggested "That way then you can't give it back"

"Got it, should I close my eyes to prepare myself"

"Go ahead"

Its so cliche for the two of them as it looks like it was taken from a movie scene. Sebastian unwrapped the gift and took the necklace out of the velvet pouch. It shimmers against the setting sun as he placed the necklace gently on her hand.

"You can open your eyes now" Sebastian said

Y/N lets out a soft gasp upon opening her eyes. It was a silver chained blue diamond necklace. There was some eerie similarities with the heart of the ocean necklace from titanic but this one is like the less flashier version. Sebastian have heard multiple stories back in the Webber household how Y/N absolutely loved Titanic as a little kid and Sebastian couldn't think of anything more iconic as gifting her a very own version of the heart of the ocean.

"Seb, you're making me cry. This is too beautiful" Y/N muttered in awe.

"I always see you fiddling with your necklace when you are nervous especially when someone crashed or its a wet race" Sebastian explained "I hope this can help assure you that everything will be alright"

Y/N felt speechless and she could feel the utter care that was placed in this gift. So what she does next is remove the necklace hanging on her neck.

"What's this?" it was now his turn to be puzzled.

"Well I can't wear this necklace and that at the same time" Y/N reasoned "So I'm giving you my necklace. Its my star sign, taurus which is represented by a bull so red bull"

Sebastian looked at the necklace in his hand. He felt very grateful and it seems like a charm for him to carry to his races.

"Thank you"

There was so much more that Sebastian wanted to say but he couldn't ruin this moment. He was happy to make her happy even if its just a friend.

Soon, he tells himself.

If he wins in Monaco then he would gather all his courage to ask her out. He will give everything for this race this weekend so he can finally stop this dilly-dallying. He gives out a silent wish to the universe that they make his wish come true.

News flash, Sebastian didn't win the Monaco GP 2010.

[malk1ns]

january 18 @ capitals, 4-1 loss

the streets let me know that geno and ovi appear to be on-again. they were chit-chatting between the whistles and getting quiiiiiite cozy. love that for them.

When Zhenya gets off the ice after the Sabres game, his phone already has two missed calls and five texts.

He sighs explosively, clearing the notifications and throwing his phone back onto the shelf in his stall before he starts stripping his gear off.

“What’s up?” OC asks, peering up at Zhenya from where he’s doubled over picking at his skate laces.

“Ovechkin,” Zhenya mutters darkly, glaring at his phone as he unbuckles his shoulder pads. It vibrates at him. Fuck.

Sid leans around from the other side of OC, eyes bright. “What’s Alex want?” There’s a burble of laughter under his voice, and after a game like that Zhenya can’t blame him. It’s not Sid’s fault that all the mirth in Zhenya’s soul got sucked out the minute he saw Алекса́ндр Миха́йлович Ове́чкин on his phone.

“Don’t know,” Zhenya huffs, sitting down heavily on the bench to get started on his skates. His legs feel heavy, and he’s already dreading the plane ride. “Probably wants dinner tomorrow, like, after game. Hope he picks somewhere good this time, last place was suck.”

That’s not fair. Sanya has never actually brought Zhenya to a bad restaurant in DC. But Zhenya’s not exactly inclined to feel charitable right now, not when Sanya is on an epic goalscoring tear and Zhenya…isn’t.

“Standing me up, G?” Kris calls from across the room, but he’s not being serious; they did their dinner in November. “Didn’t know Ovi was such a hot date.”

Zhenya makes loud fake gagging sounds until the guys chuckle and drop it.

Sid’s still watching him, though. Zhenya pretends he doesn’t notice.

—

By the time the plane touches down in DC, Zhenya’s stiff and sore, and he has to hobble down the steps to the shuttle. Sid is right behind him the whole way, and Zhenya can practically feel him about to say something, but every time he keeps his mouth shut.

This can’t go on much longer. They’re being too awkward, and the team is going to start noticing sooner rather than later. Kris for sure has, but he’s giving them space to sort themselves out; that won’t last forever, though.

Zhenya scowls at his phone for the shuttle trip through DC, stabbing too hard at his shattered touchscreen as he sends a request for a pre-game rubdown before the game tomorrow. He hisses when his finger slides over a break in the glass.

He needs to get a new phone. He needs to get back to Anna about where they’re taking Nikita on vacation together this summer. He needs to tell his agent which sponsorships he’s okaying for the off-season.

He needs to talk to Sid.

Instead, he opens up his WhatsApp conversation with Sanya.

It’s a bunch of expletives about the goalie goal, which are at least enough to make Zhenya smile as he scrolls. The last message, though, wipes the grin from his face.

we need to talk about the voicemail you left me next week. you’re coming to mine after the game tomorrow. don’t try to run to the hotel, i’ll find you

Zhenya sends a thumbs up and locks his phone, sinking into his chair and staring outside for the rest of the bus ride. When they get to the hotel, he grabs his key and hustles upstairs before Sid can waylay him.

It’s a good thing he’s bone-tired after a game and travel. He’s not sure he’d fall asleep otherwise.

—

Zhenya feels surprisingly sanguine as they troop off the ice. They lost, yes, but they didn’t completely fall apart; the score doesn’t reflect how they played. It’s something to build on, stuff to review and work on as they move forward.

Sully agrees, and he keeps his postgame chat short. Everyone’s exhausted after a back-to-back with travel, and the room is pretty subdued. They don’t fly out until mid-morning tomorrow, but it’s the brutal slog all the way to Los Angeles, and everyone is ready to get back to the hotel and sack out for as long as they can.

Except Zhenya.

Sanya doesn’t even give him a chance to escape; he’s waiting outside the visitor’s locker room when Zhenya exits, tapping at his phone and looking bored.

«I’m here as ordered,» Zhenya says, stopping in front of Sanya and kicking at his shin. Sanya immediately pockets his phone and beams up at him, grabbing his arm and towing him down the hallway as he chatters about the game.

Zhenya looks back and makes eye contact with Sid, who’s watching the two of them leave with a furrowed brow. Zhenya shrugs, then turns back forward so he doesn’t stumble over Sanya’s feet.

They get the small talk out of the way in the car. Sanya asks after Zhenya’s parents, who are minding his house back in Pittsburgh while they’re on this ultra-long road trip. Zhenya makes appropriately interested noises as Sanya talks about Nastya’s latest charity initiative back in Moscow.

«I had the team chef send me back with a double portion earlier today, I hope you don’t mind just reheating something,» Sanya says as they make their way into his house. «And don’t worry about the dogs, Carly picked them up earlier today.»

«Thanks,» Zhenya says, oddly touched. When he and Sanya are fighting, it’s easy to dwell on the worst parts of him—his temper, his ego, his questionable politics, the way he bulldozes through life assuming everyone will give him what he wants. When they’re friends, though, Zhenya’s reminded of the little ways that he’s careful with his friends, the details he remembers and the thought he puts into making sure the people in his life are alright.

Which, Zhenya supposes, is the reason he’s here.

He didn’t remember leaving Sanya a voicemail when he woke up hungover and miserable last week. It wasn’t until Sanya started texting him incessantly that the dreadful memory returned—too many shots after a night out with the team, no game the next day because of his wrist, and watching Sid do his painful, earnest best to act normal after what happened the weekend prior had sent him straight to the good liquor when he got home. And that, apparently, had led him to dialing Sanya and saying…well, Zhenya’s still not entirely sure what he said exactly, but it was enough that Sanya got the gist of what happened.

Zhenya shakes his head at a proffered beer and digs into the pasta Sanya sets in front of him. They’re quiet for a while as they shovel down their meals, but Zhenya knows what’s coming, and the admittedly delicious sauce tastes like ash in his mouth.

After they’re done, Sanya produces two Gatorades and directs them to the living room, settling Zhenya on the couch before handing him the blue one.

Zhenya takes a long drink and says nothing. He’s here under duress; Sanya can start.

«So,» Sanya says, leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretching his legs out, digging his toes into Zhenya’s thigh. Zhenya doesn’t even bother smacking him away. «You and Crosby finally did the deed and now you’re freaking out.»

Zhenya’s face immediately goes hot, and he sets the Gatorade bottle on the side table with a shaky hand. «No delicate lead-in?» he snarks, clasping his hands in his lap. 

Sanya tsks at him. «Stop trying to avoid the subject with jokes,» he scolds, poking Zhenya with his big toe to punctuate his point. «You’re very clever, yes, we all know Zhenya and his wit that he uses to deflect when he’s uncomfortable. You called me last week. I won’t make you listen to the voicemail because I’m nice, but I was really worried. You’re lucky I didn’t call your mother. What happened?»

Zhenya sighs, but the ball of stress in his chest unspools. Sanya isn’t angry at him, he’s concerned. He’s not going to report Zhenya to the SVR and get him banned from his motherland. He’s offering to listen.

For all they’ve been through, Sanya’s kept Zhenya’s secrets since they were teenagers, at least the ones that actually counted. Even when they hate each other, they’re family.

«I don’t even know what happened,» Zhenya starts slowly, rolling his shoulders back and sinking into the couch with a groan, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. It’s a shockingly comfortable piece of furniture; he could probably sleep here, even with his knees and his back. «Mama made vareniki, like, a thousand kilos of it, and Sid wanted to go over some power play tape anyway, so I brought some over so we could eat and talk…» Zhenya sighs. «It’s like trying to remember a dream. We were down in the basement watching, and it’s like…suddenly we were sitting really close. And I looked over, he was looking at me, and then…» Zhenya trails off, shivering a little as he remembers the way they leaned together as if magnetized. 

The whole evening really did feel like something out of a dream. It wasn’t until the next morning, when Zhenya woke up in Sid’s tangled sheets with come dried low on his belly and Sid’s warm breath against his neck.

He’d jumped out of the bed, shoved on his clothes, and tore out of there like he was being chased. They’ve barely spoken since.

«Who’s being weirder about it, you or him?» Sanya interrupts his reverie. «I’m assuming he’s trying to be normal and thus making it forced, and you’re avoiding every attempt.»

Zhenya can never say that Sanya Ovechkin doesn’t know him down to his bones. «That’s about right,» he admits, picking at a cuticle. «I know I can’t let it go on for much longer, the team will notice.»

«Fuck the team, Zheka,» Sanya says, and Zhenya rolls his eyes. «No, I’m serious. The two of you aren’t going to let this impact the team, Jesus, you’d never. But if you continue to be stupid you will let it fuck up the two of you.»

«I don’t know what to say,» Zhenya whispers. «It’s…you know how things have been, with Anya. We’re fine now, as friends, but…what if I’m not over her? What if I am, but Sid thinks it was a huge mistake? God, I don’t think I could bear him letting me down gently.» Zhenya’s pride can only take so much bruising, after all.

«Zhenyechka,» Sanya says gently, and suddenly he’s tucked against Zhenya’s side, wrapping his arm around Zhenya’s shoulders and drawing him close. «That man is head over heels for you. He has been for years. And you’ve felt the same, by the way—you both distracted yourself with pretty little things, but it’s been there the whole time. You really think after something like what happened, he’d treat you badly and let you down?»

Zhenya lets himself relax into Sanya’s strong grip.

Sanya’s right, is the thing. The way Sid had looked at him…Zhenya knows that look. He’s seen it on Oksana, on Anna. He sees it when his parents look at each other.

He’s seen it on Sid’s face for fifteen years. 

«What if I fuck up, then?» he says, resting his head on Sanya’s shoulder. «What if I’m the one that ruins us?»

«Well then, don’t,» Sanya says, as if it’s that simple.

Zhenya supposes that it probably is.

—

Sanya keeps Zhenya for a few more hours, coaxing him into trying some dreadful local beer he’s obsessed with and dragging Zhenya from room to room to show off his tacky new decorations that Zhenya immediately loves. Eventually, though, he drops Zhenya back at the hotel, beeping his horn twice as he tears off down the street.

Zhenya watches his tail lights fade, then heads inside.

His head is buzzing as the elevator slowly creaks up to the team’s floor, but not from the single beer he’d choked down. For the first time all evening, he looks at his phone.

There’s the usual shit that he swipes away, but there’s one text from Sid waiting for him.

let me know when you’re back safe

Before Zhenya can overthink it, he turns right out of the elevator instead of left, where his own room is.

He counts the doors until he gets to the room he knows Sid will be staying in. Pressing his ear against the door, he can faintly hear the television.

Taking a deep breath, Zhenya knocks.

[educatedsimps]

— Suna drabble (he shouldn't be this hot)

≪ back to fics masterlist

a/n: Good morning, people! It's nearly half past midnight but my brain is currently overrun with thoughts of the one and only Suna Rintaro so watch me simp here 😏 -Jo, 6 June 2024

This was all because of that Ishikawa reel you saw on instagram omggg

firstly, we only see Suna in season 4 but he's made such a huge impression on us because...

He's the silent hot boy type

You notice his obsession to film the most interesting/funny things e.g. whenever the Miya twins fight etc imo that's just him being observant and trying to capture memories so like, if he was your boyfriend/husband, he'd definitely make time and effort to capture special moments with you

His flashbacks when Kita steps onto the court just demonstrate that he's someone who tries to find shortcuts (when possible) to complete his tasks (lazy hot?? but also not quite??) The fact is that even if he doesn't find an easier way out, he still continues to press on to finish whatever task is at hand

Sometime in S4, Ukai Junior says that Suna's one of the shortest middle blockers but that he's super effective in both his blocking and spiking strategies because because BECAUSE HIS CORE MUSCLES ARE WELL BUILT ASQWDEFGSEFRGHD YES, HE HAS ABS. AND I'M POSITIVELY CERTAIN THAT THEY'RE ROCK HARD OKAY (fictional characters making me go feral?? Y E S) also WHAT EVEN HE'S OVER 1.85 METRES TALL PRE-TIMESKIP GUESS WHAT - HE'S 1.91 METRES TALL POST-TIMESKIP QWFEGWQDTFYGH

all in all, mister Suna enchants me because he's observant, he would make me tremble and shiver in real life if he simply glances at me At the same time, you kinda end up fantasising about this mysterious guy who sorta keeps to himself (compared to the twins cuz they're just loud LOL) You would want to know more about this guy albeit discreetly because you wouldn't want him to think that you're a creepy weirdo stalker. If he's managing Inarizaki's volleyball team account, he's definitely gonna post some funny-arse stuff about the twins too I guess that's it for my simp post!! it's like simping for Meian Shugo all over again AND THIS MAN HAS THE AUDACITY TO NOT EVEN BE ANIMATED YET AAAAAAAAA

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[dedkake]

been thinking too much about how good the team's doppelganger nightmares are!!!

teyla

i actually think teyla's nightmare is the most interesting because it is so packed full of things.

we're back to teyla before the expedition meets her. back on athos. and john is there. in her pre-john space. he's not supposed to be there. he's invading that space.

ronon assumes she and john are on a date and doesn't believe her when she says they're not. a fear of people misinterpreting her relationships AND a fear of not being believed, even by her friends.

rodney showing up and talking about strange readings. teyla's always doing her best to understand science and earth stuff, but she must fear being on the back foot in these areas. also she has a healthy fear of when rodney is afraid.

john starts menacing her and being intimidating, and later bugjohn is there and attacking her. she has some residual fear of the incident in the gym where pre-bug!john attacked and kissed her for sure. but also she has some fear that she can't trust john. that john will hurt and betray her.

john intimidates her by picking at another fear--that people don't trust her. that the atlantis crew doesn't trust her. and that they never have. (please see: season 1 and bates etc)

john specifically points out her connection to the wraith and the wraith queen and the fact that she's been contaminated by that connection, something she has feared since learning of her connection with the wraith.

then there is wraith culling happening outside. her people are being hurt. her father is dying again. she's trapped in the tent and can do nothing to help them. and she is also going to be killed by the wraith because

iratus john is going to feed on her.

also this is all very chaotic and overlapping and disorganized and she can't really keep up with it all.

it's just So Layered!!!

ronon

ronon's dream comes in stages and they're all So Good. first, he's on atlantis, but he's alone. everyone is gone, and he doesn't know why. they've abandoned him or they've been killed and both of those options are just as bad as the other because he's alone. ronon has a such a hard time trusting that he has a home and community and stability on atlantis and here it is. gone. he's been abandoned or he's the only survivor (again).

then he's running again. another fear. alone on a planet he doesn't know with nothing but his body and his instinct to survive. back where he was before meeting the atlantis crew.

and finally he meets john. who he's immediately relieved to see, because he trusts john. despite everything that's happened, john's given him that home and community and stability he has such a hard time trusting. john's the linchpin of it all for him. and then john betrays him. (and this coupled with the long goodbye time where possessed john gets ronon shot and leaves him after tricking him into trusting him aaaaahhh)

and he gets buried alive. something even ronon can't fight his way out of.

rodney

there are a few things happening simultaneously in rodney's nightmare. 1: he is physically uncomfortable. he's sitting in the rain with the wrong gear. it is cold and wet and gross. 2. he is alone. he's been removed from his home and his team. 3. he has an impossible physical task. he has to row a boat back to atlantis. away from the big scary whale that's probably going to eat him. rowing a boat isn't easy, even on calm waters. and the ocean is not that. and physical fitness is not rodney's forte. and it's not something he can use his brain to fix. 4: john is sitting there insulting him. someone he trusts--someone who's supposed to be helping him (which is especially bad because it's different than he expected. it's against the plan.)--is just sitting there watching him struggle and telling him he's not good enough. because rodney is good at solving problems, but physical discomfort and brute strength problems are not the problems he's good at solving.

and then a big scary whale eats him. he's not equipped to solve any of these problems. nature is out of his control actually.

later, when he's armed with the right science and the right knowledge, he has no problem and no fear entering john's nightmare. he challenges doppeljohn head on. fierce as can be. because this is now a problem he can solve.

john

i've posted about this before. but there are just so many little layers in his short pre- fistfight scenes. rodney's death is only the tip of the iceberg for him. rodney dies--and it's john's fault. he was on a mission trying to save a teammate and he failed. again.

and then THEN the whole team confront him about it in the hallway. and they all blame him. he can't get words out in response, even though he tries because they're right. failing one of them meant failing all of them. the team are angry about his failure and his relationships with them are about to be ruined.

and then sam, his boss, comes at him to tell him he's compromised by this and he's losing his job because of it too. his fear is not just losing rodney, it's losing everything because of his own failure.

it's just one mistake that sends his whole life into free fall.

and then! the fact that doppeljohn assumed his form in his military uniform. and he has to fight him. aaaaaahh. and he's losing to him. that john doesn't think that who he is at his core. his soft zippy shirt, no more friends, failure of a self. can actually beat what the military has turned him into. or who it has turned him into for others. this is about john's self image. and it is so!!!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh

(and the energy being chose this form. chose the military version of john. it's not wearing what he's wearing on the mission--leather jacket and tacvest. it's wearing john's standard military uniform. right from the start this is what it picked out of john's head as the most intimidating form)

idk there's just so much going on in the team dreams!!!!