#someone who was young and bright and had their whole life ahead of them

[carlos-tk]

your friends really will save you 100 times over

[c0s-lettuce]

Would you be able to a Sergei, where he has a child with someone from his past. He doesn’t know about the child for three years but once somehow finds out he tracks them down to find them and meet his kid (honestly could be a boy or a girl)

blissfully unaware - sergei kravinoff x fem!reader

synopsis: for the last three years, you've been raising your daughter, emilia, by yourself. but when her father finds out, he wants to be a part of your lives again.

word count: 2225

a/n: thanks for the request, i had fun writing this! it wasn't specified, but i wrote this as an x reader, hope that's alright! disclaimer, i do not know what three year olds are like, so i apologise if anything is inaccurate.

It was a chance meeting. You and Sergei were like two passing ships. Even though things happened fast, you thought you had found the one. You were sure he felt the same. It was months of pure bliss before one day when you woke up alone.

The world shifted when you first saw those two lines. You felt lost for the first few weeks. You didn't know what to do or how to do it. But your friends and family supported you, and eventually, you decided it was for the best. You knew who Sergei was and what he did for a living. You didn't want your child to be a part of that.

When you held Emilia's little body in your arms for the first time, you fell in love with her instantly. After the tears and sleepless nights were over, life with your daughter was perfect. She was a sweet and thoughtful child. She rarely fussed over anything and had so much love in her heart.

It was hard not to think about Sergei at first. Emilia was a perfect combination of the two of you. Half of him and half of you. But as time passed, you forced him out of your mind and focused on your little girl. And in the blink of an eye, Emilia was already three years old.

That brings you to today, a Friday morning in the summer. It's been a long week, and you're looking forward to spending the weekend with your daughter, having promised to take Emilia to the beach. But first, you had to get her to preschool and get yourself to work.

You poke your head into Emilia's bedroom. She sleeps soundly, hugging a bunny plushie to her chest. You step over the toys scattered on the floor, stopping at her bed.

"Hey, baby," you kneel beside her, brushing the hair away from her face. "It's time to wake up."

Emilia scrunches her face in response. She hugs her bunny tighter and mumbles, "Not yet, mama."

"Yes, now," you say. "You've got a whole day ahead of you, Emmy."

Emilia let out a tiny whine, not giving up her sleep just yet, and you hold back a chuckle. Resorting to another method of waking her, you lean in and begin peppering kisses on her cheek.

She starts giggling immediately, trying to hide her face in her pillow. "Stop, that tickles!"

"It does, huh? What about now?" You add your hands into the mix, tickling her body with your fingers.

She squirms, giggling even more. "Mama, stop!"

You laugh as you withdraw your hands. Emilia looks up at you with bright eyes, hiding her smile behind her bunny.

You give her one last kiss on the nose. "Come on, girly. Let's go have some breakfast, yeah?"

Emilia nods, sitting up and holding her arms up to you. You pick her up, and she hugs your neck as you carry her to the dining table.

The morning goes by peacefully. Soon enough, the two of you are off for the day. You drop Emilia off at preschool. She gives you a kiss and says goodbye in a sweet little voice that always melts your heart.

It's a productive day for both of you. And that evening, you and Emilia go to the supermarket to pick up a few groceries. She trails beside you cheerfully since you agreed to buy her a box of fruit snacks.

You're currently looking at vegetables, Emilia's least favourite section. Your broccoli perusing is interrupted when a familiar voice calls your name. You turn and see a young man standing before you. He's dressed nicely. It takes a moment to place a name on the face.

You do a double take. "Dmitri?"

He grins, "Oh my god, it really is you. It's been, what? Four years?"

You pause for a moment. You were close to Dmitri for some time, having visited the restaurant many times. But you stopped talking to him when Sergei left.

You smile back, though yours is somewhat strained. "Wow, yeah. Just about, I think. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see a show at the theatre nearby," he explains. "What about you?"

"I live here now," you tell him.

"Oh, that's great," he replies. "It's a nice area here, I-"

He trails off when he notices the little person beside you. A look passes Dmitri's face. It worries you, but he quickly replaces it with another smile.

"Who's this?" he asks.

You look down. Emilia's holding onto your leg, hiding slightly behind it. You place a hand on her head. "This is Emilia."

"Hi, Emilia," he greets her before looking back up at you. "Is she yours?"

"She is," you say cautiously.

"That's wonderful," he responds. "She looks like you."

"Thank you," you reply.

A somewhat awkward silence settles. Dmitri looks down at his watch.

"Well, I need to head off if I want to make it on time," he states. "It was good seeing you."

"Yeah, you too, Dmitri. See you around," you say.

He nods, looking down at Emilia. "Bye, Emilia."

Emilia waves him goodbye. She looks up at you curiously after he walks away and asks, "Who is that, mama?"

"Just an old friend, Emmy," you say.

"He has funny clothes," she replies.

"You're right, bub," you let out a chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Come on, just a few more things, and then we can go home."

Emilia takes your hand without a second thought. With one last glance towards Dmitri, you tell yourself not to worry and refocus on your shopping.

A week passes, and you start to forget about your interaction with Dmitri. It's a Sunday, and you're lounging at home. You have some time to yourself since Emilia is having a playdate with her friend.

But your peace is interrupted when someone knocks at your front door. When you go to answer, your heart drops. None other than Sergei Kravinoff is at your door, eyes wide and noticeably flustered.

"H-hey…" he stammers.

You stare at him, shocked. The man who has been a ghost for the past four years suddenly stands before you. And he looks a mess.

"Sergei," you regard him. "What are you doing here?"

He swallows visibly. You notice his eyes dart behind you, looking inside your home before settling back on you.

"Is she here?" he asks.

You feel your heart drop even more. He knows.

"No, she's over at a friend's place," you tell him.

"Oh," is all he says, his face an unreadable mix of emotions.

You shift uncomfortably, unable to meet his gaze. "How did you find out?"

"Dima told me he saw you," he explains. "The other day at the store."

You nod, unsurprised. A part of you anticipated something like this happening. You don't bother asking how he found out where you lived. You already know the answer.

You open the door for him. "You should come in."

Sergei enters, grateful but wary. He looks around at the living room. The place is covered with evidence of Emilia.

"She's mine, isn't she?" he asks.

"Yeah, she's yours," you reply.

He turns to face you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How was I supposed to, Sergei?" you retaliate. "You disappeared on me."

Sergei lets out a huff, knowing you're right. But still, he argues, "You could've reached out to Dima. Or done anything. You didn't even try."

"Would it have made a difference?" you ask. "Would you really have dropped whatever you've been doing for this?"

He hesitates. He wants to say yes but doesn't know if he can. Instead, he just looks around the room again.

You've never seen him look so defeated. A part of you feels guilty. But the other part feels resentful. Four years and not a single word. Now, he shows up out of the blue, demanding answers.

"Look," you begin. "I don't know what you've been doing all this time, but I've been living a good life with Emilia. And I don't plan on that changing."

Sergei shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't- I'm not here to cause you trouble, I just… I wish you told me."

The guiltier part of you starts to take over. "I'm sorry, Sergei."

"No, don't apologise," he says. "This is my fault."

You fall silent, thinking of nothing else to say. You can tell Sergei's mind is going a million miles an hour, so you give him some time to process things.

He speaks up after a few moments. "Do you think I could meet her? Please?"

You hesitate to answer. The thought of letting Sergei back into your life scares you. But you decide to give him a chance. He deserves to meet his daughter at least once.

"We'll both be home next Saturday," you tell him. "She usually naps around noon, so you could come over at two."

"Two o'clock. Alright, I'll be here," he says.

Sergei gives you his number and leaves shortly after, not wanting to bother you any longer. It feels strange to suddenly have a way to directly contact him. But you have a week until he comes over again, so you bide your time until then.

You're nervous all morning the next week, but Emilia is blissfully unaware. She wakes from her nap and is already back to her toys, playing doctor with her plushies. You watch her from the kitchen, drumming your fingers on the counter.

Sergei arrives at two on the dot. You steel yourself before answering the door. He stands there looking just as anxious but greets you with a smile.

"Hey," he holds out a bouquet of flowers. "These are for you."

You accept the gift, noticing he still remembers your favourite. "Thank you, Sergei. Come in."

Sergei follows you inside. You place the flowers down and lead him to where Emilia is playing. He needs a moment to take her in. She has a head of wavy hair and chubby cheeks. He can see himself in her. He sees you, too. And just like you three years ago, he falls in love instantly.

You take a seat on the floor beside her, getting her attention. "Hey, Emmy. There's someone who would like to meet you."

You look towards Sergei, and Emilia follows your gaze.

Sergei kneels in front of her, holding out his hand. "Hi there, Emilia. I'm Sergei."

Emilia looks back at you, and you give her a reassuring nod. She timidly reaches out to shake his hand but doesn't say anything. Her hand is comically small in his. She retracts her arm, and you notice her shuffle closer to you.

Sergei smiles, gesturing to her toys. "These are cool. Are you a doctor?"

Emilia seems to light up a bit at his question and nods.

"You know, Em," you speak up. "Sergei told me he was feeling a bit sick. Do you want to give him a check-up?"

Emilia nods again, seeming a bit more enthusiastic now. She's always happy to show off her toys and medical skills. It takes a few minutes, but Emilia starts warming up to Sergei. You step away to let them play and can't help but smile as you watch them.

Sergei commits to the part, even pretending to be unconscious on the floor. Emilia pokes him with her equipment in an attempt to revive him. She's all giggles and smiles by the end of the afternoon. After dragging you over to also get a check-up, Emilia introduces Sergei to her plushies, and he offers his highest praise for each of them.

Soon enough, the afternoon is over. You'll need to start getting Emilia fed, bathed and into bed. But, of course, she complains when you say it's for Sergei to go. She pleads for him to stay for dinner. Sergei, however, doesn't want to overstay his welcome, so he makes an excuse for himself. Emilia relents and gives him a hug goodbye.

You walk Sergei to the door. Stepping outside, you're greeted by the cool evening breeze. He faces you, a tentative look on his face.

"Thanks for coming," you speak up first.

"Thanks for having me," he says. "I'd like to do this again."

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure Emilia would like that too."

Sergei smiles, and a moment of silence passes. He takes this time to take you in. Really take you in. You've changed over the years. But you aren't even a bit less beautiful.

He takes this opportunity to continue. "And what about her mother? Think she and I could spend some time together as well?"

You crack a smile. "I don't get much free time these days, Sergei. But let's go with a maybe."

"Maybe," he nods. "I can work with maybe."

Silence falls between the two of you again. Sergei is reluctant to leave but knows he can't linger. He reaches for your hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of it.

"Thank you," he says. "I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon, Sergei," you reply.

Sergei offers one last smile and lets your hand slip from his. He begins walking away and looks back to see Emilia waving at him through the window. Sergei waves back, filled with a new resolve. He's not going to screw up this time.

➸

[black-cat-luck]

Can you do dick and Bruce father son activities

I sure can!!

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

𖥔 Dick being Bruce’s first ward (son) means there was a lot of awkwardness at first. Bruce took him in because he saw himself in the young boy after the accident, and when Dick was hellbent on vengeance, Bruce wanted to make sure he didn’t go down the wrong path; he wanted to lead the boy to a better life. But, Dick was still just 9, and he had a whole childhood ahead of him.

𖥔 Bruce wasn’t ready to have to be a parent, to have the birds and the bees talk; to make sure Dick knew not to get peer pressured or let anyone walk over him. So when Dick is almost eleven, he’s changing out of his Robin suit as he looks at Bruce, who’s changing out of the Batman suit. “Can we go to Disneyland?” He asks, and Bruce furrows his eyebrows; looking at him. “What?” He asks, genuinely startled by the question. “I dunno, my birthdays kinda coming up and I’ve been wanting to go, and you’re like, super rich.” Dick says with a shrug as Bruce continues to just stare at him, cogs turning as he blinks. “Yeah, we can.” He answers, and Dick beams a bright smile, skipping away happily. Bruce just watched him punch a burglar in the face and laugh at him for crying, but Bruce has a tendency to forget that Dick is not just Robin, he’s still a little boy.

𖥔 They have a blast. Bruce takes them to Disneyworld, and a few other parks and attractions, spending a few days just experiencing it, and enjoying their time. Dick tells him multiple times how grateful he is, and still talks about it even as they get older. He cherishes their time together.

𖥔 Dick breaks a few chandeliers. It’s not his fault, he’s been getting antsy, and how is an acrobat supposed to just sit still? Bruce has an unused ballroom in the manor redesigned, with professional equipment installed. Every type of rope, trapeze, and safety mats are all readily accessible for Dick. The last few chandeliers survive, and Dick spends every free moment in there. Bruce often watches him under the guise of “coming to bring lunch, but not wanting to disturb him.” Dick tries to get Bruce to join him a few times, saying he’ll show him all his tricks, but Bruce is not a fan, and prefers his feet planted on ground, so he just sits there watching Dick, both of them with a smile on their faces.

𖥔 Dick was a fan of baseball, so he occasionally makes Bruce play with him. It’s a bit too father-son, throwing a ball back and forth, it makes Bruce’s chest tight, but Dick is happy, so he doesn’t voice his nerves. Bruce is barely twenty three now, he wasn’t ready to become a father. He thought he was just doing Dick a favor, but when the little boy gets distracted, and the baseball makes his noise bleed, Bruce shushes his cries, and wipes up the blood; promising you’re okay, I’m here, I’ve got you.

𖥔 Dick is extremely compassionate. More so than Bruce has ever seen in someone. He joins Bruce to many things as the billionaires new ward, and the charity events, and volunteering makes him feel better, makes him feel like he really is making a difference. But then he sees crime scenes, places they were too late to, dead children. Some even younger than he is. He wants all the pain and suffering in the world to just go away, but he doesn’t know how to make it, he’s not strong enough to get rid of it all. So Bruce starts wrapping him in blankets and putting on children’s movies.

𖥔 Dick is adamant that he’s fine, he just got a little sad, he’ll get over it, but this movie about a rat that can cook really is interesting, so he gives in. Bruce doesn’t leave him, whether it’s fear over the boys mental state, or just enjoying sitting with his son and letting him eat popcorn out of his hand so he doesn’t have to break free of his blanket burrito, Bruce isn’t too sure, but he enjoys it regardless, and he’s not going to leave his side. He makes sure Dick is covered up and not in a position that will hurt his neck. He turns off the tv and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight dad.”

𖥔 Dick likes to paint. He never takes it too seriously, but he’ll still find himself in the garden, trying to match the shades of the flowers as accurately as he can. Bruce joins him, they don’t say anything, they swap brushes and squirt out new paint for one another, listening to the birds chirp, looking at the beauty all around them. Dick’s painting is just of a few flowers, some grass underneath it. Bruce’s is a lot more detailed, a lot more beautiful. It’s the garden in its entirety, and there’s a little red bird sitting on a flower. It’s a Robin. Dick keeps that painting in his bedroom. Bruce keeps Dick’s painting in his office.

𖥔 They learn a lot of things together when it’s just the two of them, they face a lot of emotions when they’re both living their first lives, and are struggling to figure it all out together. Dick doesn’t want to end up like Bruce, Bruce doesn’t want Dick to end up like him. Dick sees himself in Bruce and it terrifies him. Bruce still sees Dick as a nine year old boy even when they’re eye level now. Dick finds that painting from all those years ago when he’s unpacking in Blüdhaven. He didn’t want to pack everything up and leave that manor an empty husk of what his life was, but after all the screaming and fighting he had to. He couldn’t take it anymore. He hangs the painting above his bed. He crawls under his covers, wrapped up like a burrito, and watches a little rat cook to get everything off his mind. Bruce had never been a father before. Dick had never been a son of Bruce’s before. They had to figure it out together, and right now meant being apart, but Dick knew he would find his way back home, they still had a lot of growing up left to do together.

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

I know this was written differently than Jason’s was but it had to be, Dick was Bruce’s first son, they had to figure life out together, and it’s a bitter but sweet thing for both of them. I hope you enjoyed, thank you so much for the request. ᡣ𐭩

[365emotionlessfaces]

i’m literally so in love with her

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 4 WC:~1.8k

The next couple days came and went pretty much the same way. Melissa and her Aspiring One kept winning, or at least placing in the top three, and every time Melissa saw that bright smile, she found it harder to not kiss the girl. Their friendship had grown quickly over the past few days, and by the time dinner rolled around on the fourth day, they were practically inseparable. They had gotten so comfortable with each other, it almost felt weird to not be touching in some way or another, whether it was shoulders or knees touching, linking arms to walk around, or all out holding each other’s hands when they were only in need of one useful limb.

The days ended the same way, too. They would don their swimsuits and make their way to their private beach, laughing and bonding before dinner, which was also paired with laughs and smiles that neither of them would admit meant anything more. Her Aspiring one would tell her all the things she would do if she got to go home with Melissa, and Melissa allowed herself to imagine what it would be like. Having this pretty young thing there to treat her like a queen, all the time. Living a life with someone who went out of their way to do nice things and say nice things. She shook the thoughts from her head. This is just a kid. Even though Melissa knew that she’d be getting one helluva sweet deal, she knew that the kid had her whole life ahead of her, and Melissa would turn out to be the Joe in her life. Not being good enough for her.

So, instead Melissa would redirect the conversation and share horror stories from teaching, and when the girl didn’t waver in her dream of teaching, Melissa got to tell her all the things that made sharing her knowledge worth it.

They tried staying out as late as possible on the fourth night because they both knew that after dinner tomorrow, everyone would be packing up and heading back to their homes. Melissa couldn’t admit out loud that she wasn’t ready for this to end. Here was this girl promising Melissa the life she’d always wanted, and the redhead knew she’d have to give it up. So she just enjoyed her last night with the girl, and tried to push the dread for the morning out of her head.

Dreams came to Melissa fast, and unrelenting that night. Snippets of a life she could never have. Parent Trap sitting across from her at their table, eating dinner in the home they shared. Slow dancing in the living room while Burl Ives sings Christmas songs through the radio. Double dates with Barbara and Gerald. Looking through a maternity ward window at a tiny baby with a tiny bracelet that says SCHEMMENTI-

Melissa jolted awake and sat up quickly, mindful not to hit her head on the bunk above her. It was still dark, but almost out of instinct she looked across the room to Parent Trap’s bed. Melissa could just make out the silhouette of the young girl. She leaned against a post of the bed frame, and sighed.

‘I’m being ridiculous. I’ve got Joe at home to worry about, hopefully not for much longer, and what would Nonna say?’ Melissa huffed out a silent chuckle at the thought. ‘Might give ‘er a heart attack. Not even done with my divorce an’ I show up with a doll on my arm younger than the broad Joe had?’

After five minutes, the post was starting to dig into her back, so she decided to use the bathroom light to check her watch. When she saw she had ‘two freakin’ hours??’ until breakfast, she decided that she was gonna watch the sunrise from her little secret beach. As she dressed for the day, and exited the cabin as quietly as she could, Melissa hadn’t noticed that the star of her dreams had woken up.

Melissa only had about ten minutes between herself and nature before she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see her Aspiring One with that beautiful smile, and those glittering eyes.

“Hey. Good mornin’, hon,” was the first words Melissa spoke for the day. Her voice was slightly groggy, despite being awake for a while now. She saw the young girl flush, and despite being slightly confused- she hasn’t blushed at ‘hon’ before-, she drank it in. This was the last day she’d ever get to see this gorgeous young girl and she’d like to spend it right by her side.

The girl took a seat next to Melissa and linked their arms before replying, “Morning, Em,” with a smile. The sun hadn’t made it over the trees across the small lake, but it was clear that it had come over the horizon behind them. The young girl didn’t say anything else, she just laid her head on Melissa’s shoulder. The redhead leaned her head against the top of the younger girl’s and they watched the sunrise in a comfortable silence. Melissa couldn’t help her mind wandering, imagining what it might be like to be able to wake up next to Parent Trap every day to watch the sunrise together.

After watching the beautiful colors cross the sky signaling the start of a new day, they pulled apart, but only slightly. “I’m really sad that we’re going home tonight,” the young girl said. Melissa hummed in agreement. “I really like you, Em. I wish we could go home together.” Melissa looked over to see the girl blushing again.

Melissa wished that, too, but she knew what she had to do. “Listen, kid-” The redhead was cut off when her Aspiring One placed their lips together softly. The kiss was brief, the young girl pulling away just as quickly as she had leaned in. Melissa had to use every ounce of self control not to throw everything out the window and just take the girl here on the beach.

“Sorry, I, uh, I just wanted to know what it would be like before you shot me down,” the girl said sheepishly. Melissa’s heart felt like it was shattering inside of her chest. They both knew what was about to come.

Melissa sighed before she spoke. The tears were already welling up in her eyes, so she looked down at her hands. “You’re young, you’re just a kid. You got your whole life ahead o’ ya. You’ve got school to go to, and I’ve got a divorce to win. I’d love nothin’ more than to be able to run away with you or somethin’, but I couldn’t do that to ya. It would never work, anyways. You need to go back home to Michigan, and go to school, and be the best teacher they ever see ‘round those parts.”

Melissa couldn’t bear to look back up to the girl. She finally let the tears fall when the girl stood and left, without saying anything more. Melissa couldn’t help but feel like she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Melissa and her Aspiring Teacher won the last contest, of course, but the young girl only spoke to Melissa when she had to. Her voice was still full of kindness, but it wasn’t as enthusiastic, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. Was the shine in the girl’s eye just in Melissa’s imagination? Now that she had broken the girl’s heart, and her own, she couldn’t seeit anymore?

At dinner, Parent Trap sat with a group of kids her age, instead of with Melissa. The redhead, unable to stand being in the same room as the girl without being able to be right next to her, took her dinner to go. On her trek back to the cabin, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a headstart on packing. Entering the cabin, she looked to the bed where her Aspiring One had spent the last week, and sighed, tears welling up once more. She’d been on the verge of crying too many times today for her liking.

Sandwich in one hand, she tried to use the other to heave her suitcase onto the bed. You would think that it being almost empty would have made the task easier, but somehow Melissa managed to almost drop her sandwich, which made her let go of the suitcase to make sure her dinner stayed safe and edible with both hands. As the case went tumbling, it opened and out fell a little stuffed eagle, clearly handcrafted, wearing a Philadelphia Eagles jersey and denim shorts.

“Oh, Ronny! I forgot about you,” Melissa mumbled aloud. She had brought Ronny along in case they did somethin’ stupid, like a show and tell type thing. She then, of course, would have told them that he’s named after the quarterback playing for the Eagles the year she started teaching. She bent over to pick him up, and as she stood back up, she had an idea to end on better terms with the young girl that may or may not have stolen Melissa’s heart in the span of a week.

Melissa was pacing when Parent Trap returned from dinner. Her bags, long packed, sat near the door waiting for her.

“Hey. I was waitin’ for ya. I, uh, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye and tellin’ ya that, uh, that I’m really glad I met ya,” the girl looked back at Melissa and frowned, but waited for the redhead to continue. Melissa reached down and grabbed Ronny from where she had set him on Parent Trap’s bed. “I hope I didn’t steer you away from teachin’, I still think you’d be amazing at it. This is Ronny,” Melissa held him out to the girl. “I got him from a student on the last day of my first year. I want you to have ‘im.”

The girl took the stuffed eagle before replying softly, “Thanks, Em.” Melissa looked at her while the girl smiled back at her, but Melissa could tell that the smile would never reach the girl’s eyes. Her still-not-sparkling-anymore eyes. Melissa sighed a ‘You’re welcome,’ before heading towards the door.

As she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, she turned to look at the girl one last time. “Maybe in the future, we’ll meet again. When you’ve finished school, and I’ve finished with the disaster in mine,” Melissa told the girl hopefully. She knew how unlikely it was. She only knew the girl’s first name, and the girl didn’t know her name at all. How would they even find each other?

“Yeah… maybe,” floated across the room softly and quietly. The girl didn’t even turn back to look at Melissa as she said it. Melissa just put her head down, and left the cabin. She cried in the taxi, and on the plane, and in the other taxi, and even a little bit once she was home.

Part Five

[miniskirtmods]

𝐃𝐀𝐃

parings ˚ The Umbrella Academy x sibling!oc x Tom Hansen

warning(s) ˚ mentions of death, oblivious crushes, nicknames: gorgeous, sweetheart . . . (please tell me if I missed any!)

synopsis ˚ Ruby Hargreeves locks up her shop and and decides to spend some time with one of her co-workers, Tom. They both enjoy their evening of strolling in the park and eating at her now favorite Italian restaurant until they take a look at the news that’s playing near their booth: “Moments ago, police reported the death of the world’s most eccentric and reclusive billionaire, Sir Reginald Hargreeves”.

word count ˚ 2.1K

authors note ˚ might create a mood board of little miss Ruby Hargreeves sooner or later and I may even introduce her powers 😼

Tom raises an eyebrow, him and Ruby stepping off of the curb and waiting and waiting for the walk signal to cross the street. “Wait. Wait, so. You were homeschooled your whole life? What about other people, you just— never talked to other people as a child?” His gaze was curious, the look of someone who’s already trying to piece together the puzzle for himself.

“Do my siblings count?” She questioned before displaying a straight smile, tilting her head upwards in order to look at his face. 

A chuckle escaped his lips, a small smirk resting on them quickly after. The walk sign blinked to the simple illustration of a person walking colored in bright, white led lights, indicating to the pedestrians on the other side of the street to cross safely. The pair followed, stepping out onto the street, taking strides down the crosswalk.

“No, I mean— other than your siblings. You’ve never had playdates with other kids in the neighborhood?”

Ruby looked ahead, hands in her coat pockets to keep them shielded from the cold breeze that whistled through the streets of New York. She brought her shoulders closer to her ears in an attempt to make her scarf cover more of her face. “I wish. My dad kept us secluded unless we were needed on special occasions.” Special occasions as in missions. Missions that her father had sent them on when “the world needed us most”. His exact words. We were young, naive, and super powered — most of us at least —, we believed everything the man would seep into our brains.

However, Ruby hadn’t told him the entire truth when it came to talking about her past. Only allowing small fragments of it escape her lips, gracefully leaving out the huge factors that made them the Hargreeves. She felt guilty for lying to him sometimes, but they weren’t going to come back to her..right?

Tom’s expression turns concerned as he walks alongside her, eyes fixed straight ahead. He knew a thing or two about a shitty life and a shitty father. Maybe that's what made him so empathetic to your situation. He’d always been an open ear to your stories and now was no different.

“Damn..” He muttered, shaking his head gently. The next question is on the tip of his tongue, and it takes him a moment to decide whether or not it was too personal to ask. Maybe it’d be best to leave it at that— leave it for another day, but curiosity got the better of him and he just couldn’t shake the thought.

“I, uh… I don’t wanna, like.. push your buttons,”

He muttered, his flicking to her and then returning to the sidewalk in front of them. “But… I guess I’m just wondering y’know.. why your dad kept you all isolated like that.”

Her eyes widened at his question. It felt like she couldn’t let a word out of her mouth, feeling a large knot form in the center of her throat, “I—” She stammered embarrassingly, avoiding making even a second of eye contact with him. Her eyebrows frowned as she was trying to think of something to say, I need to come up with something. Tom had expected her to push the question away, feeling a bit too personal now that he’d asked it. He can’t help but notice the strained look that crossed Ruby’s face, the way she paused for a moment— how she suddenly looked a bit like a deer in headlights.

“..I don’t really know, maybe— he wanted to keep us safe?” It sounded like she was asking him a question about her own lie. A lie that only felt true for a couple of years in the academy. 

He nods gently as she responds, but a part of him knows that there’s definitely more to your past than you’re telling him. Perhaps now just wasn’t the time to find out. “Yeah. I uh.. I guess that makes sense.”

Ruby gently nodded her head. There was silence, it wasn’t awkward but she felt like she had to say something at this moment. Her eyes darted from store to store until a bright red sign caught her eye: “SUPPER: Italian Cuisine”  She tilted her head to the right, noticing that the restaurant looked like it could handle a walk in and a smile grew on her face.

“So.. you have an appetite for some Italian? There's a restaurant just down the street.” Ruby lifted her gloved hand and pointed to the brightly decorated area just across the street. She looked up at the brunette to grasp a reaction, catching an immediate smile finding its way onto Tom’s face at the mention of Italian food; his stomach seemed to have the same reaction as well, a low rumble escaping from his belly as he perks up at the mention of it. 

“Oh, yeah! We should— we should definitely check it out. Y’know, I’ve been meaning to go for ages. I’m starving now just thinkin’ about it.” He grinned; a laugh escaping his smile soon after.

Not even a moment later, a wide smile crept onto her face once she heard the low growls of his stomach at the mention of food, dimples on full display for the whole world to see. “Guess that’s our sign to go! What else is going on tonight?” I ask rhetorically..”

“Nothing else going on. Just each other”, he thinks as the words escape her lips.

He smiles, gesturing his hand out to allow you to take the lead. He’s quick and happy to follow after you; the walk down the sidewalk to the restaurant seeming to only fuel the duo's excitement.

“Lead the way, gorgeous.”

.       .       ☂︎       .       .

The pair soon arrived at the Italian place. Ruby’s gaze darted over the interior of the booth they were seated at and then to the menu that hung out front. Her eyes scanned over the options before they flicked over to Tom, taking note of the way his hand dangled so close to hers. His fingers so slender and his skin so pale, contrasting with hers beautifully. They would look perfect intertwined together.

Thinking of their hands together, an almost nervous smile rested on her lips as he gently brushed his fingers against hers.

“This all looks so good.” Ruby muttered.

“Mm.. it does.” He hummed in agreement; his fingers brushing against hers in a teasing manner this time. 

The gesture was lighthearted, and he couldn’t help the almost-flirtatious smile that teased his lips. His eyes brightened up for a moment, a look of confidence behind them as he gestured out to the restaurant.

“Maybe.” Ruby giggled, imitating the movements of his fingers onto his own hand. The sound of her giggle sent a shiver down his spine, making his smile grow ever so wider. She slowly trailed her eyes up from her menu to the brunette sitting in front of her, catching his gaze already on her. Her breath caught in her throat as she couldn’t help but stare deep into his dirt colored eyes. The eyes that carried a remaining glimmer, his teeth gently raking over his bottom lip in an attempt to hold back all of the flirtations he so wanted to throw at you. 

“Save some room for me,” He quipped. “It’d be a real shame if you started eating without me. Might even have to take a bite from your plate.”

She playfully rolled her eyes at his comment, “Fine.” Adding a dramatic sigh at the end. “Whatever your majesty requires.” She rolled her wrist theatrically as she attempted a British accent, slightly bowing towards him with a snort.

Tom shook his head at her attempt at a British accent and the excessive bow. “Ohh,” He snickered. “Watch out. I like it when you get sassy.” God, he loved this. He loved how it always felt second nature between the two of you to flirt and play off each other. It was natural— and every time you took each other on, neither of you could get enough of it.

Soon enough, the waiter made her way to the table and introduced herself to us before asking us what we would like to order. We started with our drinks and went ahead to order our meals. 

“We’ll take one order of Fettuccine Alfredo, and a Chicken Alfredo, thank you.” He finished, his gaze moving from the waitress to the menus, picking them up in order to hand them to her. The waitress nodded, writing it down on her notepad before giving a smile and a polite nod before taking the menus and walking off to grab our drinks. Then, in a flash, she was setting our drinks down onto the table.

Tom shifted back in his own chair, returning his gaze to you once again as a playful look returned to his eyes. 

“Shirley Temple, huh?”

Ruby picked up her drink and brought it to her lips for a sip. “Mm.. “ She hums in contentment as she swallows the drink, her eyes flicking over to his face with that familiar gleam in them. “What’s wrong with my order? Do I have too much taste for your liking?”

Tom’s gaze flicked once again as she took a sip from her own drink, the red hue of the Shirley Temple staining her lips ever so slightly. His eyes took a moment to study the faint stain, the sight drawing his attention once her words finally registered in his head. A smirk spread again, the man shaking his head as he let out a small scoff.

“No way, sweetheart. You can drink whatever you damn well please.”

.       .       ☂︎       .       .

By now, Tom had already taken several fat bites out of his Fettuccine, the sight causing his stomach to ease almost instantly. A quiet groan of satisfaction escaped him between bites, the taste of the Italian food feeling like heaven in his mouth. With the taste of the food still on his tongue, his eyes drifted up away from his plate and over towards the woman in front of him. “How ‘bout you? This new place got the Ruby stamp of approval?”

She frantically nods her head, swallowing the creamy pasta in a heartbeat after letting her taste buds dance against the tangy cuisine. “They’ve got more than my stamp of approval..” She paused and took another ball of pasta into her mouth, taking a moment to swallow before speaking once again. “If I had to, I would give my soul away just to eat this.”

Tom chuckled, the sound still slightly muffled from the food in his mouth. Swallowing his food, he rested his chin in his hand and stared across the table at you.

“Your soul, huh?”

He joked, resting an elbow on the table casually to lean closer into the conversation. “Y’know, if food is all it takes, there’s a few other things I wouldn’t mind having from ya’.”

The fork clanked against Ruby’s front teeth as she paused mid-mouth stuff, eye flickering to his face moving just a bit closer to hers.

There it was: the opening he’d been waiting for. The playful look in his eyes shifted slightly— the glint now becoming a little more mischievous as he leaned in forward a little more. “Well..” He murmured. “I have a few ideas.” His eyes moved down to your lips, even covered with white alfredo sauce, a sight he knew was enough to make the atmosphere between the two of you that much hotter.

Before Ruby could react, the TV to the right of their booth played the obnoxiously loud news intro, allowing for the entire restaurant to hear whatever was going on in the city recently. The entire restaurant had fallen silent now, all eyes focused up at the TV screen that hung above. On the screen, a reporter sat inside of what appeared to be the news studio. The headline of ‘Sir Reginald Hargreeves Is Dead’ was displayed in all caps at the bottom of the screen.

The reporter began to speak: “Moments ago, police reported the death of the world’s most eccentric and reclusive billionaire, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.”

In a matter of moments, the atmosphere changed. What was once playful flirting suddenly made way to shock and concern. Ruby’s eyes grew wide at the sight on the screen as she took in the news. ‘Hargreeves’ 

Tom’s gaze then flipped over to Ruby’s, his expression shifting once again at the look on her face. One word left her lips:

“Dad.”

[minhypen]

00. PROLOGUE

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀'𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾

📄𓏧 0.7k 𝐂𝐖 ⦂ none ⸝⸝　repost with a new layout

FOR SOME PEOPLE, LIFE CAN CHANGE IN A SINGLE MOMENT. For Park Minyoung, life changed with a single song. 

Ever since she had started walking, Minyoung had been an athlete. From playing soccer with her father at the age of 4, learning basketball at the age of 6, stumbling upon tennis when she was 7, to joining her school’s badminton team at 11 years and beating 5 other schools to reach first place at 14, sports had been a major part of her life. 

Her parents had always encouraged Minyoung to get professionally trained in badminton—arguably her best talent—knowing a bright future was ahead if she chose to. But the thing was, Minyoung was never passionate about it, just incredibly competitive. 

As proud as she felt when she expertly took a point in a crucial moment, it didn’t move her like it should've. She didn't find her heart craving the feeling of winning gold in badminton. Or any other sport, if she was being honest. None of them gave her the fulfillment that would drive her to do it for life. 

Now, ever since Minyoung was introduced to YouTube, BTS had been a significant part of her life. Having found them around a year into their debut, she had become a die-hard fan of the group. But even with watching their performances religiously and singing their songs at times, she’d never really thought much about dancing to them. Or even just dancing in general.

It was at a party during her middle school field trip, when Minyoung’s classmates randomly decided that a freestyle dance battle had to be held to make the trip a success. Being good or bad at dancing didn’t matter to those kids as they shouted and cheered for anyone who was bold enough to step forward. 

Now, Minyoung didn’t plan to step up. She was content with cheering for Hamamoto Himari, the class’ dance queen and Minyoung’s closest friend, who seemed intent on destroying everyone with her impressive moves.

But things didn’t always go according to plan, and Minyoung was forced onto the stage by a smirking Himari and some cheering classmates. 

What happened up there wasn’t legendary. She didn’t blow the whole crowd away with her sudden incredible freestyle skills.

No, it was a pretty normal performance for an average 14 year old who watched so many dance performances. The song that came on was a rap song by someone she didn’t know, and she did fairly well, keeping up with the beat and showing some interesting variety in her moves, but that was it.

But Minyoung blew herself away with how much she enjoyed performing in front of the little crowd. The cheers that she received simply because her performance was entertaining, rang in her ears for hours after the party ended. 

It made her more eager to learn and perform in front of people, for the joy she felt when she performed was otherworldly. The experience sparked a passion in her which quickly grew to an inferno, further stoked by her older sister’s encouragement to learn some of BTS’ dances.

And from there started her descent down the rabbit hole. Five minutes of trying it out turned into five days and she had learnt the complete routine of J-Hope’s part in Fake Love. Five days became five months of daily dance practices with Himari where she copied BTS’s choreography to the best of her abilities. And by then Minyoung had learnt the basics required for dance.

Though she was young, the girl understood. At the age of 14, Minyoung had found her calling. Dance and performance fueled the passion inside her and made her heart beat faster and say more, more, more. 

She had fallen in love with the feeling, and now Minyoung wanted to become a k-pop idol. 

She wasted no time auditioning for entertainment companies after her parents (though after much hesitance) gave her the green light. Minyoung didn’t have high hopes considering her inexperience, but her ambition and competitiveness would never let her back down without a fight.

Lucky for her, she seemed to have decent skills for a beginner, and some really good luck.

Just 3 rejections later, she was selected by BigHit Entertainment. Just 2 months later, she was flying to Seoul for the first time in her life with her older sister. Many legal verifications and procedures later, she was signing a trainee contract with BigHit under the I-Land Project. A small tour around the building, an orientation session with her supposed mentors and a brief talk with her dormmates later, Minyoung officially started her idol training.

It was July of 2019, and her whole life had changed.

All because of one song.

🏷️ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ( 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 ) @queenriki7 ; @kangseulgithegreat ; @terryfiedgyu ; @d-dilemma ; @enhaslxt ; @loveyjisu ; @pinknjm

INSPIRED + BETA READ BY @enmi-land && SLOW UPDATES

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𝗠𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

© 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 　　(　　𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽　　) 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀

[piastrixpole]

vi. australia

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!oc (daisy shaw)

genre: written

based on the 2023 season

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There's no privacy in the world of formula 1. It took Daisy a long time and truthfully she still hadn't fully accepted the loss of being able to keep some aspects of her life out of the public eye. The invasion into the driver's every move in the modern era affected the whole grid of course but some were less of a target to the media.

Naturally the really famous names like Max and Lewis and those with a huge social media following were constantly under surveillance but there was also an additional focus on the minority drivers. It felt wrong for Daisy to group herself with Lewis, Zhou and Yuki because the struggles they all went through were very different but they each faced scrutiny from yet another lens.

Regardless, they were all noticeable figures who stood out amongst the rest of the grid. There was no confusing Daisy for anyone else. Not when there were pictures of her plastered all around the track and a freakishly large number of cardboard cut-outs of her head in the crowd.

So when Stella called ahead warning her that there was going to be members of the Netflix team in their garage for the race to follow Daniel, naturally she was fuming. She could just about handle the overwhelming walk in to the paddock but to know that their garage, a place where she normally felt at home was being invaded with cameras for the weekend made her want to scream.

Normally the paddock walk and meeting any fans who were waiting in the area didn't take too long. Daisy was without fail the first driver to arrive at the track so she was usually there before the massive crowds gathered to catch a glimpse of them. The last thing she wanted to deal with when she was stressed was the thousands of eyes on her and getting stopped every two seconds by someone.

She appreciated the support and always made a point of meeting as many fans as she could earlier in the week or after the race but she was so on edge and jittery with the pressure to perform on race day that she knew she needed to be alone.

There was no chance of slipping under the radar this time though. Not when it was her teammate's home race and the team wanted them to go together to present a united front, as if the fucking power of friendship was going to lead to a double podium for them.

Daisy literally couldn't imagine a worse situation to be in. Well, that's an exaggeration - she definitely could but this was a nightmare for an introvert who needed to isolate in a little ball in her driver's room to get in the right headspace. She had Stella and Mila for moral support but they were trailing behind her and Daniel and joining them would only earn her an earful from PR later and the joy of third-wheeling her friends, who she absolutely loved, but could think of nothing worse than being stuck heading their sickeningly sweet affection for one another.

Amidst the brunt of the attention being focused on Daniel , Daisy did her best to keep a bright smile firmly etched to her features hoping that her anxieties weren't seeping through and souring it unintentionally. She played the part expected of her rather well. Pose for pictures, sign whatever merch was thrusted her way, stop and chat to the fans eager to get her attention. React, react, react. It was all about giving people what they wanted and after a while it became robotic to her.

One thing that she couldn't feign neutrality towards though were the admittedly adorable young girls who were literally beaming brighter than the sun at her. Daisy had never wanted to be a role model nor had she ever made an attempt to be one by conventional standards and while she preferred to just let her racing speak for itself and leave her gender out of the conversation entirely, interactions like these did make her proud to be in the sport and promoting equality even if she viewed it as a distraction from her racing most of the time.

A young blonde girl who couldn't have been older than eight caught her eye in the crowd, her face lit up with excitement as she tugged at who Daisy presumed to be her parent's hands, eager to get closer. Before Daisy knew it the young girl had broke free from their grasp and was darting towards her and under the fencing separating them. Out of the corner of her eye Daisy saw security instantly heading over to escort her back to her parents but Daisy shook her head "she's alright."

Kneeling down to the young girl's level Daisy gave her a radiant smile. Or at least she hoped it was. She wanted this to be a memorable experience for her. "Hey sweetheart! What's your name?" she asked, keeping her voice warm and gentle.

"I'm Rosie," she exclaimed, shyly lifting the black and gold Porsche cap with Daisy's driver number off her head and tentatively passing it to her "you're my favourite driver, can you sign it please!"

Daisy had a soft spot for her young fans even if the thought of being someone's idol when she was far from perfect was a nauseating thought. "Rosie.." she gasped playfully "you're a flower just like me! That must mean you're super fast too."

Rosie giggled as Daisy signed her cap with a flourish and drew a little daisy and rose beside her signature and the sight of her wide eyes left her heart swelling with affection. "I want to race just like you when I grow up."

"Well Rosie, I'm going to tell you a secret ok," and at the eager nod she got from the young girl Daisy chuckled and continued "if you work hard, you'll beat all those boys and then maybe one day I'll see you on the race track. Don't give up on your dream."

"Really?" Rosie looked at her in awe.

"Really," Daisy repeated "you just promise me to believe and trust in yourself because I know you're going to be amazing, ok?"

"I promise," Rosie giggled with happiness "can I get my mum to take a picture to show my friends?"

Even though Daisy could see the team were getting impatient waiting for her to finish this interaction so they could keep moving she agreed and security guided her mum closer to the front of the crowd.

"Thank you so much for this," she gushed to Daisy "she's such a big fan you know, she never shuts up about you."

"Of course," Daisy smiled as she posed with Rosie and the pictures were taken "it's my pleasure."

With a final hug and the satisfaction of making Rosie's day she watched as she rejoined her mum and gave a big wave in their direction before she had to continue the walk into the paddock. Daniel had surprisingly hung back as well, likely having stopped to play hometown hero (even if that was really Oscar) chatting away while Daisy had been talking to Rosie.

"You know for someone who's pretty insistent on not wanting to be made into a role model for inspiring young drivers you have a real talent for it," he pointed out as they strolled up towards the entrance.

He was right. Daisy did make a point to stop and devote her time to interactions like that but she preferred to keep moments such as them close to her, to not have them be used to make her into some media darling because that just wasn't her. The softer side of her public image was reserved strictly for her fans. "Well I'm no Daniel Avocado," she remarked, referencing the viral clip of her teammates name being mistaken "but I just like to see them smile, simple as."

When her signing with Porsche had been announced nearly two years ago now Daisy remembered being torn to shreds in the media. There had of course been rumours of her joining the new team but apparently most of the racing world had never seen her before and had been envisioning someone petite and more girly in appearance. They definitely hadn't been expecting Daisy in all her 'tough exterior.' It had been laughable after a while, people claiming that her tattoos and piercings weren't professional but it being completely fine when other drivers did the same.

"Not very raincloud of you," he teased her.

Daisy smirked in response "I'd argue that it is actually. Soaking up all the negativity and giving them hope."

Nodding in agreement he whistled "true, true."

With the end of being a spectacle in sight as the Porsche garage loomed in the distance Daisy felt herself relaxing. The track was where she was meant to be and there wasn't long to wait until she had the thrill of clawing her way around the circuit again.

Albert Park was a tricky circuit to race, last year had been Daisy's first experience on the Australian track and it had unfortunately been the first of her two DNFs that season. That had been a tough pill to swallow for Daisy after the high of scoring points in her second ever race. Especially when the reason she couldn't finish was an issue with her engine, something that she couldn't have controlled no matter how badly she wanted to.

This time however, things were gearing up to be more optimistic. It seemed that the odds were in her favour this year as she had somehow gone on a rampage the previous day in qualifying and ended up on the front row. Second to only Max. It was her highest ever starting position and her first time making it to the front row so Daisy had been overjoyed. Considering how far ahead redbull were as well, she was basically first.

It hadn't been an overly surprising qualifying session. Apart from Perez having to start from the pitlane putting him at what would be a serious disadvantage if he was in any other car. Mercedes had been a bit of a shock too. Lewis and George had somehow pulled a P3 and P4 start out of the car so they'd be starting ahead of the Aston Martin duo later. Daniel had ended in P7 yesterday so he was separated from Daisy by those two teams.

The only downside was the fact that she still had to make it through the driver's parade. In theory it wasn't a big deal and it's not as though it was difficult, just stand there and look pretty Daisy. In reality though it was eerily reminiscent of the times on primary school field trips where they'd all been loaded up on the bus and made pick a seat only to be rejected by most. Similar politics were applicable here. Daisy hated being one of the last to board the truck because it meant she stuck out like a sore thumb, not really having a solid little friend group amongst the drivers - just a few who she could manage talking to one on one.

And with luck notoriously not on her side what did she find when she finally went to join the group? That she was last. Leaving her with no choice but to take the empty spot next to as fate would have it, Logan. Hesitating for a moment, she exchanged a brief nod with Logan before she had to climb up and take her place. Then in an unexpected move, he extended a hand to help her up the rather steep gap between them and the ground.

Logan Sargeant truly was a puzzle in Daisy's eyes. Appearance wise and she meant this in the nicest way possible he was the epitome of an all American frat boy who'd somehow ended up in Europe. Basically everything about her first impression of him had screamed red flag and she had been a bit pre-emptive in assuming that he would be a dickhead.

He'd really thrown her for a loop though because from what she had observed the last two races he seemed to be the complete opposite. He was quiet – and that was coming from her of all people. Like actually shy and not super comfortable talking to people he didn't know very well but it was kind of endearing? And now here he was trying to help her up onto the deceptively high truck. She presumed it was because he was still feeling guilty about their run in on the track back in Jeddah but it was still a sweet gesture. Daisy considered herself to be a good judge of character and he seemed like the type to always put the blame on himself even if it wasn't solely his fault.

Daisy accepted his hand though, uttering a quiet "thanks Logan," as she found her balance and settled into the free space beside him. One of the other rookies Oscar was on his left side.

Her stomach was turning with what she assumed to be nerves as she stole a quick glance at Logan when they started moving. There was a charm to his easy smile that she thought was cute. Inwardly, she could already anticipate the likely influx of messages from her sister's in their group chat because of that little moment. Daisy would literally bet her entire racing career on Katie having already screenshotted it or linking the clip and teasing her. And Holly was no better, she'd definitely devote the time it took for the rest of the driver's parade to pass into drafting song lyrics and teasing Daisy in her own way.

There was a discreet tension between her and Logan. Not palpable enough for the drivers around them to notice it but Daisy was still a little paranoid that they would. To ease the atmosphere between them she turned towards him and Oscar and started up a conversation and she definitely wasn't doing it just because the Australian driver had been observing them curiously when Logan had all but jumped forward to help her up.

"Bet you're happy to be here this year," Daisy gave a little smirk to Oscar with her comment. Unlike Logan, who she hadn't properly interacted with before he made it into F1, Daisy was familiar with Oscar. She had been a season ahead of the current rookies in F3 and F2 but she was able to get to know Oscar last year when he was the reserve for Alpine.

If Oscar was surprised that she was talking to him he hid it well. "This is more my colour than blue don't you think?"

Nodding along Daisy winked "of course," before adding cheekily "and you don't have to butcher the french language anymore either!"

Oscar barked out a laugh "Come on, I wasn't that bad."

Daisy merely raised an eyebrow at his claim before he was grinning and shaking his head "..ok point taken, it was pretty bad."

Logan chuckled at the back and forth, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he joined in, something which Daisy had noticed the few times she'd seen him laugh "mate don't even deny it, I wasn't on the grid and I still know it was awful."

"What is this," Oscar scoffed "gang up on Oscar day? Besides Logan, I'd like to see you do any better."

Apparently Logan took this challenge very literally because within seconds he was saying "Je suis meilleur que toi bebe," in a surprisngly good french accent.

"Show off," Oscar shook his head in amusement and gave him a playful shove.

They continued to chat and joke around and Daisy felt less anxious about the whole situation. There was nothing worse than having to stand in awkward silence by herself in these situations so it was nice that despite the pressures and expectations of the racing world - there was more to it. Friendships could exist on and off track.

She was starting on medium tires which appeared to be a popular move as all the cars surrounding her bore the same ones. Further back the grid she thought she spotted a glimpse of the hard tires but it didn't particularly worry her. Her only goal for the race was to maintain that second position by any means necessary because realistically there was no way she was miraculously getting the lead on Max at any point but she was determined to finish on the podium.

Coming to the end of the formation lap Daisy zoned in on the five lights intently. Eliminating all other distractions from her mind was essential. Especially when she was starting next to Max, the best start of her career. If she was ready she might be able to beat him into turn one and then she'd be leading a race for the first time in her career as well. The redbull's straight line speed wasn't something she was looking forward to facing but the Porsche was feeling good this year so she wasn't going to rule herself out of the fight for first yet either. Max would literally welcome the challenge as well if she could put on a good show since it had been so long since they had direct competition.

With the formation lap completed Daisy geared up for the race ahead. Her gloved hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, fingers tapping against the material with nervous anticipation. She was the epitome of concentration as she sat ready for the lights to go out. And they did slowly start to disappear, Daisy's muscles tensing in preparation and her foot barely hovering above the accelerator. The start was always crucial in races but today it was even more important. If she could pull off a successful one, there was a possibility of beating Max into that first turn and leading the race.

When the fifth light flickered out Daisy's lightning fast reflexes urge her to unleash the full power of her Porsche and she practically rocketed off the line. Her and Max were side by side as they launched forwards and Daisy's attention was firmly locked on that first corner. The redbull was edging towards the inside line but there was no way in hell Daisy was letting him take it that easy and drive off into the sunset without a fight.

To get ahead she was going to have to pull of a bold manoeuvre. Angling her Porsche with precision towards the apex she hurtled towards the turn at speed, feeling the tension mounting but she refused to back down from the challenge Max was setting down for her.

Despite the pressure he was putting on her, probably hoping that she'd back out and wouldn't want to take the risk of going wheel to wheel with him and possibly crashing out in the first turn, Daisy committed fully to her line. Inching closer to the inside she held her ground and refused to yield so much as an inch to him as they took the corner.

With a shaky heartbeat she made her move. Stealing the inside line for herself and darting ahead with a final send of her accelerator with a deft move. The thrill of the overtake sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, her heart pounding with the exhilaration of the battle.

Emerging from that corner with the advantage and Max now in her rear view mirror she set her sights on creating as much of a gap as possible between her car and him. Or at least she thought she was building a gap between them until she double checked and realised that it wasn't Max behind her, it was George.

Here we are at the Australian Grand Prix, and it's lights out, and away we go! Verstappen gets a decent start, but look at Daisy Shaw! She's made an incredible launch off the line, and she's flying down the inside into turn one! Shaw takes the lead from Verstappen! What a move! This is the first time we've seen her leading an F1 race, after starting on the front row for the first time in her career! She had a strong rookie season last year beating her more experienced teammate and it seems she's ready to take that fight to the championship leader now.

And look at George Russell! He's had a fantastic start as well and taken advantage of Shaw's move on Verstappen to also slip past the redbull and into second place. That's Verstappen down in third place now after just one corner. It's an electrifying start here in Melbourne, with Shaw leading the pack and setting the pace. Can she hold onto this lead and secure her maiden F1 victory? We'll have to wait and see.

"Daisy, Leclerc is out," Anja's voice cut through the intensity of the race "he's in the gravel at turn one after contact with Stroll. There 's a yellow flag and it will likely be a safety car but it's not confirmed yet."

Absorbing the information and keeping her focus as she continued to navigate the track Daisy couldn't help but feel sorry for Leclerc. Sure they were only three races in to the season so far but his start this year compared to last year must sting. She could feel sorry for him after the race though, as a driver she had to be selfish and she was currently leading so her brief moment of sympathy had to pass but before that, she had to ask "is he ok?"

"Affirmative," Anja replied steadily "keep an eye on Hamilton Daisy, he's looking close to overtaking Verstappen."

The last thing Daisy wanted was both Mercedes hunting her down. Even if the W14 itself wasn't much of a threat, its drivers definitely were and it was far from being the worst car on the grid. With two world champions and Russell looming in her mirrors she knew she couldn't afford to let her guard down for a moment.

"Safety car is being deployed."

"Copy that Anja," Daisy sounded calm and collected despite the fact that her heart was currently pumping with such intensity that it felt set to pierce through her ribcage.

A safety car was not ideal circumstances for her right now. The entire field would be bunching up behind it and consequently her, so maintaining her lead would be even more crucial once the green flag was in place. Her mind was already jumping to calculate the best approach to handle the situation. Maintaining a steady pace behind the safety car, weaving gently side to side to keep her tires up to temperature, ensuring she'd be ready to pounce next lap.

When it headed back into the pits coming into lap 3 Daisy wasted absolutely no time in seizing her opportunity to surge ahead of the pack. The roar of her engine was like music to her ears as she charged down the straight, determined to extend that gap between herself and the others just like she had in the first lap.

Daisy is building up a lead again after the safety car but overall it's still very close in the top 4. Russell keeps pace in second but the two Mercedes are fighting for that position but Hamilton needs to stay within range of Russell's DRS if he has any hope of keeping Verstappen behind him.

Oh and it's another safety car! Lap seven here at Albert Park and we're getting a second safety car as Alex Albon is off the road minus a front wing in turn 6. There's gravel all over the track and his Williams is sitting at the edge of the racing line. What a shame! And after such a good qualifying for him as well.

"What's the plan Anja? Is that Albon or Sargeant out."

"It's Albon," Anja confirmed "there's going to be another safety car. We don't think you should pit here though, it's still very early on and we want to build on our advantage with you in the lead."

Daisy mulled over Anja's words, a silent and unexpected relief washing over her that it wasn't Sargeant who crashed "ok, staying out it is. The tires feel fine so far but keep me updated on degradation and the others. Are any of the top 3 looking to pit now?"

Anja hummed on the other end of the radio "it's looking like Russell is going to pit now but he's the only one close to you. Sainz also appears to be coming in but he's not a threat."

Hearing that George was going to pit under the safety car conditions and lose his position satisfied Daisy. Normally she would be strongly for taking advantage of the slower race pace to box for fresh tires but not today. Not when she was leading a race for the first time since she was in F2 and with the threat of 2 world champions just seconds behind her.

Daisy knew she was a good driver, she had to. It was imperative to have that self confidence and belief in her abilities and talents if she wanted to succeed but there came a point when a driver was only as good as their car. The Porsche was solid and they had ranked 4th in the Constructors last year which was far better than anyone had expected from a rookie team, even if their car was decent. This year, it had improved a lot as well but they still needed a lot of development and data to be in with a chance of fighting at the top. So Daisy knew, it she was to let Verstappen or Hamilton ahead of her at any point in the race it would be very unlikely for her to make those positions back up.

"Daisy, it's now a red flag, I repeat, red flag," Anja told her just seconds later.

"Coming in now," Daisy replied smoothly, trying not to sound too happy that Russell had just conceded second place to pit only for a red flag and restart to be called meaning she could get fresh tires and start from first.

This was a chance for her to regroup and reassess their strategy going forward for the race. Daisy knew the team had faith in her but she doubted any of them predicted her taking the lead from Max straight off the bat so they would need to adjust the strategy appropriately.

As Daisy pulled into the pits, her team sprang into action. Mechanics swarmed around the car, swiftly changing tires and making adjustments while Anja relayed instructions and updates.

In the cockpit, Daisy took a moment to collect herself. The red flag had brought an abrupt halt to the intense rhythm of the race, but it also offered a chance to catch her breath and refocus. She glanced at the digital display on her steering wheel, assessing the status of her car and the remaining laps ahead.

Amidst the chaos of the bustling activity of the pit lane Daisy hopped out of the car to go confer with Anja.

"Anja," Daisy called out, catching her race engineer's attention. "Let's go over our options for the restart."

Anja nodded, acknowledging Daisy's request. Together, they huddled near the pit wall, their voices drowned out by the distant hum of engines and the bustling energy of the pit lane.

Ever focused, Anja wasted no time in delving into the new strategy "That was an incredible start Daisy," she complimented the young girl "definitely one we knew you were capable of but it did still take us all by surprise. We're going to put you on hards now like we originally planned to even though its obviously a little earlier than we'd like to so tire management is going to be key to keep you at the top."

"Agreed," Daisy nodded "I'm definitely not looking forward to attempting to hold off Lewis fucking Hamilton while keeping these tires alive but I can do it. I will be on the top step of that podium if I have anything to do with it."

"I know you will," Anja chuckled "Stella and Mila practically lost their minds at the start of the race with excitement. We all did, I don't think I've ever heard the garage that loud."

Daisy's cheeks flushed peach and it wasn't just from the Australian sun beating down on her in the heavy race suit "hopefully I don't bottle it now," she laughed, trying to deflect the praise.

Anja took her hand and interlaced their fingers as she said to Daisy, tone confident and assured "this is not the time for self doubt Daisy, once you're back on track I'm certain that you can secure that finish at the top of the podium, yes you're going to have pressure on you and it'll be tough to conserve our tires but I believe in you."

"How long did you practice that in the mirror," Daisy winked cheekily at her race engineer who just shook her head, fully used to the young driver's quips by now after a year working together.

"Straight from the heart Dais," Anja retorted "now come on, go back out there and make every bigot who thinks you don't deserve your seat eat their words."

The British driver grinned "you don't have to tell me twice," a steely resolve shinning in her eyes.

With the temporary pause Daisy quickly took a gulp from her water bottle, preparing herself for the fight that was undoubtedly awaiting her if she intended on keeping her first place. Then came the call that the race would be restarting and she found herself back in the cockpit. She exited the pitlane with one goal in mind and that was to win, any means necessary. It felt all too right to take her spot on the grid with all the other cars having to line up behind her.

The seconds ticked by slowly as the remaining 20 cars waited in anticipation for the red flag to be lifted and the race to resume. Daisy was confident, she was emerging with renewed vigour and while this was going to be a challenge, she welcomed it. To be the best you have to beat the best and that was exactly what she was setting out to accomplish with this race.

Here come the lights for the second start of the Australian Grand Prix and we're racing once again. Good reaction time from Daisy Shaw and Lewis Hamilton! The top three are as they left the grid - Shaw, Hamilton and Verstappen. Alonso goes to try get around the outside of Verstappen but he's not letting it happen. George Russel who was really screwed over with the strategy call to pit before the red flag has made up a few positions off the line but he still has far to go to make it back up to the action.

Oh and there's contact in the midfield! Off the road goes Nyck Devries and Perez gains a position. Hamilton is under attack from Verstappen as he finally has DRS and he gets around the outside. There's nothing Hamilton can do to defend his position with that redbull straight line speed and Max Verstappen soars past into second place.

"That's Verstappen up into second place now Daisy," Anja warned "still 7 seconds behind you."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Daisy exclaimed sarcastically over the radio "but if he thinks I'm letting him past he has another thing coming."

Daisy was all but catapulting off the track with determination seeping through every nerve in her body, her Porsche sliding through the corners and hurtling down the straights with precision. With each turn of the wheel, she could feel the weight of everyone's expectations bearing down upon her, but she refused to let it deter her.

Despite her efforts to stay composed though, a hint of nervousness began to gnaw at Daisy's confidence. The pressure of leading the field coupled with Verstappen's far too easy overtake on Hamilton wasn't ideal by any means. The stakes were higher than ever as the laps passed and she was fighting the limits of the car to pump out faster lap times to get away from the world champion currently chasing her down.

Sainz passes Russell who is quickly falling down the order. There must be a fault as he's pulling over at the end of the pitlane.

"Virtual safety car Daisy," Anja informed her "Russell had a failure and he's pulled in at the pitlane exit."

"Shit that's unlucky," Daisy commented at the news "but thanks Anja."

With Russell's unexpected setback reshuffling the order of the grid, Daisy knew that every moment counted if she wanted to maintain her lead and secure a podium finish. The pursuit of victory was relentless though. The laps ticked by and the pressure intensified with each one that Daisy managed to hold the lead for, the competition pushing her to the limits of her endurance.

Daisy could feel the strain of the race and the heat taking its toll, fatigue setting in as they were over half way and she was still battling to keep her Porsche at the front of the pack.

"Who has the current fastest lap?" Daisy broke the radio silence with her question.

"At the moment it's Verstappen, but you have held it previously so attempt again if you want."

With a clear track ahead of her, she unleashed the full power of her machine, pushing herself to the brink as she chased after the fastest lap title. Every corner was a calculated risk, every straightaway an opportunity to gain ground to defend her position against her rivals.

The number of remaining laps was steadily decreasing and Anja's voice was constantly crackling through the radio giving Daisy updates on her tire degradation and the ever changing status of fastest lap. She would claim it, then it would swap to Verstappen and vice versa. A constant power struggle as they fought to hold onto the title.

Daisy's tires were starting to feel the wear of almost 30 laps and they were nearing the end of their optimal lifespan. She found herself locked in a fierce battle to manage their degradation. With nearly 30 laps on the same set of tires, every corner became a delicate dance between preserving grip and maintaining speed.

Advice and updates from Anja came frequently on her tires and Daisy listened intently, her focus unwavering as she adjusted her driving style to eke out every last bit of performance from her worn tires. With each passing lap, Daisy's skill as a driver was put to the test, her finely-tuned instincts guiding her through the challenges of tire management.

In one of her frequent glances in her rear view mirror Daisy could no longer make out the faint green of Alonso's Aston Martin in fourth but instead the black and gold tint of her teammate's car gaining ground rapidly.

Now that her teammate was in the picture of possibly challenging her position as well Daisy knew she couldn't afford to let up. Max and Lewis were of course highly talented drivers but they were used to winning. It came easily to them and far more often than most of the grid. Daniel was determined - after his performance and treatment at Mclaren he was set out to prove that he wasn't washed up and that kind of mindset was more of a threat to Daisy's lead than being chased down by numerous world champions. Hunger was what made winners and right now she was starving, but Daniel was ravenous.

It all came crashing down though. Like most situations where Daisy finally believed something good was coming her way, it all fell apart. Her heart sank as Anja delivered the hesitant orders over the radio "Box now Daisy."

Frustration hit her like a punch to the gut. For all Anja had hyped her up about the team believing in her, why was she getting called to box now? Sure, she had a decent amount of time between her and the rest of the grid but that gap wasn't enough for her to feel comfortable with.

She glanced at her worn tires, feeling a pang of annoyance. She had been pushing them to the limit, trying to evoke every last ounce of performance, but she wasn't convinced that they had reached their breaking point.

With a deep breath, Daisy acknowledged the command, her mind already racing as she navigated her Porsche towards the pit lane. She knew that losing precious seconds in the pits could cost her dearly, but she had no choice but to trust in her team's strategy.

The pit stop was supposed to be a seamless ballet of precision and efficiency, but as Daisy rolled to a stop in her designated pit box, she felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong.

Her crew moved with a frantic urgency, but it was clear that things were not going according to plan. Seconds stretched into eternity as Daisy sat helplessly in her car, watching precious time slip away with each passing moment.

Finally, with a sense of dread settling in the pit of her stomach, Daisy was released back onto the track. But the damage had been done. The pit stop had taken far longer than anticipated, costing her valuable seconds and dropping her down the order.

As she rejoined the race, Daisy could feel the weight of disappointment pressing down on her shoulders. She had been so close, on the cusp of victory, only to have it snatched away by a critical error in the pits.

With gritted teeth and a steely determination, Daisy pushed herself to the limit, determined to claw her way back into contention. But the gap to the leaders was growing with each passing lap, and time was running out.

Verstappen and Hamilton were now locked in a fierce battle at the front of the pack, while Daniel Ricciardo had surged into third place, leaving Daisy trailing behind in fourth. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that victory had been within her grasp only to slip away due to circumstances beyond her control.

The odds of her catching up and getting back to the top were unlikely now. She had fresh tires that weren't warmed up yet so she was at a disadvantage if she wanted to gain any position.

That must be heart-breaking for Daisy Shaw. On track for her maiden win here at Albert Park just for the usually very reliable pit crew to make a costly mistake setting her back in fourth behind her teammate. Can she get the pace on those tires to work her way back onto the podium?

Daisy fought to push harder as she honed in on Daniel ahead of her. The adrenaline and anger combined fuelling her determination to reclaim the ground she had lost in the pit stop and return to what she believed was her rightful victory. As she closed the gap, Daisy could feel the heat rising, both from the intense battle on the track and from the burning desire to prove herself once more. Lap after lap, she chipped away at the distance between her and Ricciardo, her car responding eagerly to her commands as she pushed it to its limits.

By lap 52, Daisy was right on his heels, her car darting and weaving in his slipstream as she searched for an opportunity to make her move. The tension crackled in the air as the crowd held its breath, anticipation hanging heavy over the circuit.

The elation of catching up and being on the cusp of overtaking Daniel was short-lived as Anja's voice crackled over the radio, delivering a blow to Daisy's hopes and aspirations. The team orders cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the adrenaline-fueled haze of the race with cold, stark reality.

"Daisy, its Anja," the voice came through, firm and unwavering, "we need you to hold position behind Daniel. Repeat, do not attempt to overtake him."

Daisy's frustration boiled over as she keyed the radio, her voice crackling with pent-up emotion. "Anja, this is Daisy," she began, her tone edged with irritation, "I understand the team strategy and all, but this is just unfair. I've worked my ass off out here, pushing every damn lap, and now you're telling me to hold back? It's not right."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Anja responded, her voice steady but tinged with sympathy. "Daisy, I hear you," she said, her words measured, "but we have to think about the bigger picture here. We're aiming for maximum points for the team, and right now, that means maintaining our position behind Daniel."

Daisy grit her teeth, her frustration mounting with each passing moment. "I get it, Anja, I do," she replied, her voice tight with barely restrained anger, "but that doesn't make it any easier to swallow. I'm out here to race, to compete, not to play second fiddle to my teammate. And I know its not just you this is coming from but I was in the lead before this botched strategy call. So don't talk to me about wanting to maximise points for the team when it could have been a double podium finish for us."

Anja sighed softly, a note of resignation in her voice. "I know, Daisy," she said softly, "and believe me, I wish it could be different. But sometimes in racing, we have to make tough calls for the good of the team. And remember, this is Daniel's home race. The team wants him on that podium, and we need to do everything we can to make that happen."

Daisy's jaw tightened at the reminder, a surge of resentment bubbling up within her. She understood the significance of the race for Daniel, but it didn't make the team orders any easier to accept. "I know, Anja," she said through gritted teeth, "but it doesn't change the fact that this feels like a slap in the face after all the effort I've put in."

Anja's voice softened with understanding. "I hear you, Daisy," she said gently, "and I wish there was another way. But for now, let's focus on bringing both cars home safely and maximizing the points for the team."

Clenching her fists, her jaw set in determination. "I hear you, Anja," she said finally, her tone firm, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it." With that, she fell silent, the weight of the team orders heavy on her shoulders as she focused on bringing the car home, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

If she was being truly honest she wished she could just crash out now out of spite as a way of telling the team to go fuck themselves for their sudden change up in attitude as soon as Daniel had hope of a decent finish. Daisy could have been their winner for crying out loud. The first of hopefully many Porsche wins in their modern era. Instead it had all been sacrificed for getting a third place finish. She was feeling extremely bitter with how the race was turning out but she couldn't see the logic of the team orders. In what world do you take a win away from a driver, to not even swap it to the other driver, but to get a worse overall result?

She knew that not holding her tongue in response to the team orders meant she'd be faced with many questions in media later and a whole lot of criticism online from people claiming that she was too emotional and that it was exactly why women shouldn't be allowed in the sport. Stella was going to have her work cut out for her if she hoped to reign in her annoyance before she said something she'd regret.

And now a safety car is going to be needed as Kevin Magnusson as the Haas suffers a suspension failure. A full safety car! That could completely change the game. Wait - red flag? For the second time this race a red flag is called.

Daisy groaned internally at the second red flag. She was so over this race after everything that went down and dragging it out further was the last thing she wanted. Well no, scratch that - the last thing she wanted was to interact with any of the team after they stripped her of her chance to win.

As the cars slowed to a halt once again, Daisy couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the turn of events. The suspension failure suffered by Kevin Magnussen only added to the sense of chaos and unpredictability that had defined the Australian Grand Prix. Even though the outcome of the race was still technically hanging in the balance Daisy already knew she was finishing fourth. She wasn't going to be able to overtake Daniel in a two lap restart. It was too short a distance unless her royally fucked up even if she was itching to have an excuse to defy team orders.

Stand by for the third start of the Australian Grand Prix! It's two laps to sort out who wins with Verstappen jumping ahead of Lewis Hamilton who will try edge out Daniel Ricciardo. Its contact - Fernando Alonso was spun round by Carlos Sainz. Perez is out wide off the road! And there's a crash at the back of the field, into the wall goes Gasly. Its absolute chaos on this restart. Oh! He's sent Stroll into the corner as well. Its total, total chaos and red flag, again. Wow, both Alpines are out with parts strewn all over the track.

Restart and in quick succession another restart. Daisy couldn't wait for this absolute shitshow of a race to end.

"...Restart order is Verstappen, Hamilton, Daniel, you, Alonso, Sainz, Stroll, Perez, Norris, Hulkenberg, Piastri," Anja broke their awkward silence with the news.

"Right," Daisy was cold with her single word reply and although she didn't want to take it out on Anja because at the end of the day that was her friend and she wasn't the one who made the decision but it was the only way the team would be hearing how pissed off she was.

"And Sainz has a five second penalty to serve as well."

As the safety car peeled off into the pit lane, signalling the start of the final lap, Daisy's focus sharpened, just one more lap and then she could be done with this less than ideal race. Verstappen and Hamilton lead the charge ahead as expected and as Daisy predicted one lap wasn't enough time to try get past Daniel, especially since she didn't have DRS.

Fending off the two Aston Martin's behind her, the checkered flag loomed closer than ever and Daisy counted down the final seconds until she crossed the finish line. Coming in 4th behind her teammate who she had significantly outqualified hadn't been how she envisioned this race ending.

Breathing heavily, Daisy guided her Porsche to a smooth stop in the designated parking area, the roar of the engines fading into the background as the adrenaline of the race began to ebb away. With a deep exhale, she released the tension in her muscles, allowing herself a moment of respite after the gruelling race. The weight of disappointment hung heavy in the air, tempered only by the knowledge that she had given her all on the track.

Turning off the engine, Daisy sat in silence for a moment, the quiet hum of the car's systems filling the cockpit as she collected her thoughts. It had been a rollercoaster of a race, filled with highs and lows, triumphs and setbacks. Climbing out of the cockpit, the sight that greeted her was nothing short of infuriating. The Porsche team was a flurry of activity, buzzing with excitement and energy as they celebrated Daniel's podium finish at his home race.

She watched from a distance as Daniel was enveloped in congratulatory hugs and cheers, his infectious grin lighting up the paddock. But amidst the jubilant atmosphere, Daisy felt a pang of loneliness wash over her. No one from the team came over to greet her, no cheers or applause greeted her ears. It was as if she were invisible, a mere afterthought in the shadow of Daniel's success.

Suppressing a sigh, Daisy forced a smile onto her face, but inside, her heart ached with disappointment and frustration. She had given her all on the track, fought hard and pushed herself to the limit, just for it to be stripped away.

With a sudden burst of movement, Stella came sprinting over to Daisy, her arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace. Mila followed closely behind, a warm smile lighting up her face as she joined the embrace.

"You did incredible out there, Daisy," Stella murmured, her voice filled with empathy. "It was completely unfair, but you held Verstappen and Hamilton off like a champ."

Stella's words cut through Daisy's disappointment like a ray of sunlight breaking through dark clouds. As they stood there, enveloped in their embrace, Daisy felt a surge of gratitude for her friend's understanding. Daisy was highly competitive to a fault and a control freak to the point where it was destructive and nobody knew it better than Stella. Nobody knew how to talk her down as effectively as Stella could.

"Thanks, Stella," Daisy replied, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm still really pissed off but it does mean a lot to hear that from you."

"I know flower," Mila spoke up this time "you were robbed but unfortunately we don't have a say in that."

Daisy couldn't help but crack a cheeky smile as she glanced over at Mila and Stella. "Well speaking of robbery, since Max has so many trophies lying around, maybe he could spare this one for me," she joked, a playful glint in her eye.

Mila let out a chuckle, while Stella rolled her eyes affectionately. "Yeah, because Verstappen definitely needs another one," Stella quipped, earning a laugh from the trio.

"Definitely," Mila was serious in her delivery "his championship trophy will get lonely on his fridge."

The three girls erupted into fits of laughter, their giggles echoing through the paddock. It was a brief but much-needed moment of levity in the midst of the intense emotions swirling around them. Daisy felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she joined in their laughter, grateful for the bond they shared and the support they offered each other, even in the most challenging of times.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the podium commenced and Max, Lewis and Daniel all took their place on the steps. Daniel especially was met with thunderous applause as he all but bounced onto the podium, waving to the energetic crowd.

Daisy was reluctantly stood on the sidelines, struggling to keep her expression neutral. She couldn't bring herself to join in the celebrations, not after the bitter disappointment of the race's outcome. Stella, ever perceptive, guided Daisy through the crowd, her hand a reassuring presence on Daisy's shoulder.

Stella knew Daisy's reluctance to participate in the festivities, understanding the mixed emotions swirling within her. She subtly steered Daisy away from the spotlight, sparing her from the pressure of public appearances that could potentially paint her in a negative light.

Together, they found a quieter spot on the fringes of the celebration, where Daisy could observe from a distance without being thrust into the spotlight. Stella's silent support spoke volumes, offering Daisy the comfort and understanding she needed in that moment.

To nobody's surprise the familiar Dutch anthem began to play first and the driver's were presented with their trophies. When it was Daniel's turn, he turned to Max with a mischievous grin, grabbing his arm as he presented him with his shoe and the champagne.

Max didn't even try hide how reluctant he was and the disgust he was feeling at the situation but with Daniel egging him on he gave in, forcing the liquid down his throat as quickly as possible before tossing it back at Daniel, gagging from the taste.

Then the typical podium celebrations took place. Daniel, Max and Lewis spraying each other with the bubbly liquid in a display of victory and the air filled with laughter and cheers as they drenched each other in champagne. Daisy couldn't help but let her mind wander as to what could have been. What it would have felt like to take that top step on the podium and make history as the first woman to win an f1 race in over 40 years.

Looking out into the crowd she caught Logan's gaze in the midst of the celebrations, she could sense a shared disappointment between them. Despite their limited interactions so far, there was an unspoken understanding of the challenges they both faced.

Logan approached Daisy with a sense of genuine concern, his expression reflecting his own frustrations from the race. "Hey, Daisy," he began, his voice tinged with remorse, "I saw you were leading for ages but then lost out on the podium. What happened out there?"

Daisy appreciated his sincerity, acknowledging the rare moment of vulnerability between them. "Yeah, it was a tough race," she replied, her tone softened by the unexpected camaraderie, "I had some issues with tire degradation, and then we had that botched pit stop. Just wasn't our day, I guess."

Logan nodded sympathetically, a hint of empathy in his eyes. "Shit sorry to hear that," he said sincerely, "Sounds like you should be up there on top. Shame things didn't work out."

God was he making this difficult for her. Daisy purposefully didn't get close to the other drivers on the grid. It was a lonely life and they did all probably think she was a bit of a bitch for it but it prevented the idiotic rumours circling around her. But there was something so damn endearing about those sad eyes and his deceptively sweet personality.

Despite her own disappointment, Daisy's empathetic nature compelled her to reach out to Logan, who had faced his own challenges during the race. She'd already established that he was the type of person to beat himself up unfairly over every little thing, even those out of his control. So she wanted to make sure he knew that this was not his fault.

Daisy's demeanour softened further as she empathized with Logan's struggle. "Yeah, tough break with that DNF," she sympathised, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern, "But hey, it happens to the best of us. Just gotta keep pushing forward, right?"

She offered him a reassuring smile, hoping to uplift his spirits in the wake of the disappointment. "You'll bounce back stronger next time, I'm sure of it," she encouraged, her words genuine and supportive, "And hey, if you ever need someone to chat with about anything really, I'm always around."

His expression lit up as he listened to her words "thanks Daisy," he was so earnest "I appreciate it, it's kind of lonely here you know...the team don't really know me properly yet and Oscar's my only friend but even he seems kind of distant lately."

Well didn't that make things even harder for her to not befriend him. She understood the feeling of isolation in such a high pressure environment better than most others in the paddock. "I get it," she replied, her tone gentle, "racing can be a tough gig, especially when you're still finding your place in the team. But trust me, it gets better. You'll find your groove, and the team will come around. And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to or grab a coffee or just hang out with, I'm here. We can be lonely together, yeah?" She offered him a reassuring smile, hoping to lighten the weight of sadness he seemed to carry.

Once those words left her lips and he beamed at her Daisy felt her heart race. Shit. Just what exactly had she gotten herself into.

[salutethesargeant]

A Mess It Grows - LS18, OP81

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Oscar Piastri (Maplescotch)

Summary: Following Lando's win at Miami, an insecure Oscar heads to his hotel room to regress. One of his boyfriends follows suit to comfort him the only way they know how.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, kink themes (petplay/animal play), sfw intimacy, hurt/comfort, mentions of polyamory, use of pet names

A/N: Crosspost of my fic from my ao3 (inlovingmemory) and also my first fic here. Maplescotch is such an underrated ship and one of the few I would actually die for. (Mainly bc I'm a sucker for ships only I care about) Enjoy.

The checkered flag waved as crowds clad in orange and black began their frantic frenzy. 8 seconds ahead of the 3-times World Champion, for several laps. The rows upon rows of fans under the Florida sun were livid at the sight. Could it really be? A car the color of papaya-orange crossed the finish line for the first time since 2021. But an Australian wasn't the winner. Not this time.

No, that Australian was at Toro Rosso now. AlphaTauri. RB. Whatever they were called, it wasn't Red Bull or McLaren. He was stuck situated behind a Sauber and would likely be his same, bitter, old self after the race.

Yet, there was one Australian today who got the shorter end of that stick. One younger, yet dressed in the same ol' familiar orange and black. Bright, exhausting orange like his car. The one cameras paid no focus on: Oscar Piastri. Driver for McLaren, Alpine survivor, and 2 seasons into F1. Drove his car off for podium place until Carlos collided his Ferrari into the papaya boy. 

Front wing damage. No penalty. Late leaving the pit stop from repairs. Forcibly having to settle for 13th place with no points. Losing his place late in the race while Lando was having the time of his life.

Oh yes, Lando. Lando Norris.

There's not much the Aussie could say about the Brit. They were teammates, they were competitors. Nothing more, nothing less than that. They got along, admittedly, only because Oscar knew they had to.

Being at Alpine years ago, he witnessed the opposite firsthand. His long-term boyfriend, Esteban Ocon, had been the subject of several cutthroat backtalk and altercations involving fellow Frenchman Pierre Gasly. Sly remarks full of snark and internal gossip with mean looks, or full on fights in private. It would get nasty, almost catfight-ish. All Oscar could do was sit back and watch like a child of divorce, until he'd have to later comfort and ice Ocon's bruises.

The Aussie knew any teammate relationship could turn sour like theirs at any time. No matter how long or how deep their bond went, a budding rose always came to grow thorns. He's seen the contempt boil and bubble, masked behind the Frenchmens' PR-fueled, artificial smiles for social media. Pierre's faux-friendliness on and off-camera had targeted him too, coming from someone who desperately wanted to lure the young driver in despite knowing Esteban's warnings. Even the most enticing of snakes prepped their fangs.

But Lando wasn't like that.

Atleast, that's what Oscar hoped. Since switching his colors from Alpine's sugary, teeth-rotting, cotton candy-esque light blue and pink to a more vivid orange, the relationship between the two Anglophones had since been short of amiable. Sure, maybe they weren't constantly at eachother's throats - and maybe Oscar should've been grateful for that - but they weren't the best of friends either. Or friends at all. An air of stillness had settled between them since they first met in the same garage over a year ago, growing like a thick fog. 

McLaren and F1's social media could paint the papaya pair like two peas in an overwhelmingly positive pod as much as they wanted, but all it did was make them look good. Good. Marketable. Two young drivers ready to take on the whole grid, overwhelmingly clad in black and orange. A World Champion-in-the-making and a former rookie who seemingly locked together like two puzzle pieces. Landoscar, the fans called it. Soulmates, everyone viewed it.

If it were that easy, maybe Oscar would already be attached to the hip of the Brit. Maybe Lando - for how much he flaunted his shamelessly hedonistic lifestyle as if it were his sole personality trait and thought inside that hollow head of his - would atleast make the effort to include and invite him to stuff once in a while. It's not like Oscar was begging to go to his teammate's pretentious parties across Europe, full of high-class randoms several leagues above him. Full of people he didn't know nor could care less about him or his relationships. Instead, Oscar usually kept quiet, only bothering to smile and make small talk when McLaren needed them to. Even when the cameras weren't rolling, it was never like he asked the Brit time and time again to be besties, although sometimes he wish he did. 

Lando wouldn't have to pretend to reach out to him after their social media shoots, pretending to be interested in him and his life. The Aussie knew deep down his teammate, for how dull he proudly was, was playing the same games he was, tricking the media and inadvertently, Oscar aswell. People already thought they were the "bestest" of teammates compared to the other, far more infamous pairs on the grid. The thought made Oscar shiver.

Even his boyfriends, despite the bias against them, were never the subject of tabloids as much as the Brit was. If anything, his two lovers being disliked helped keep their relationship out of the spotlight - yet it only made the vipers of paparazzi focus solely on Lando and Oscar. Labeled as 'friends', an 'ideal couple,' despite the younger man already having special people (who were also on the grid) in his life. But God help him for actually thinking journalists payed attention to what was true.

Maybe he wouldn't be constantly compared to Lando - more than he already was - if they actually were good friends like the news said. Oscar was just a former rookie in the eyes of his team and the media, but Lando was a proven, soon-to-be World Champion. Every step he took, praise followed like a trail of gold. His own red carpet. Even the cameras were too bright, Oscar was almost blinded despite how far he was shoved out their view.

In regards to the times where he, or perhaps where McLaren allowed him to, shone, he was restricted to playing 2nd. Times where he could've helped the team gain points were never considered when they focused on his tanner teammate to earn another podium. Oscar would have to stick towards the back end of the race, feeling too insecure to look at his manager in the eye in the garage. A disgustingly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd grown familiar with. And as he predicted, this strategy (or lack thereof) happened again today.

Except Lando was a race winner now.

-

The heat of the Miami sun rested upon Oscar's back as he begrudgingly exited the cockpit, his fireproofs and suit on fire as he ripped off his helmet. What a horrible race that was, just his luck to go from top 4 to being the loser in a challenge with Carlos. The Spaniard seemed to collide with him, giving him damage to his front wing as he'd end up losing his place. Sure, he was able to get back in the race and set the fastest lap so he'd gain something out of it, even if it was to just end up behind an Alpine and out of points territory. But it didn't really mean anything when he had his race ruined and McLaren couldn't care less about him. 

From where he currently was in the garage, God Save The King blared in the distance, like a thought he couldn't truly escape. If he were a little more patriotic, he'd find it nauseating. But even if he wasn't, it still was. Everywhere he went, it seemed to remind him that he'd never be good enough. He'd never be like him in their eyes, only a liability. Feeling sick again, Oscar ran and tried finding the nearest bathroom, far from the McLaren garage. Far from the podium. He couldn't bear to deal with the strategists and members of the team crowding his way right now. 

It was his day. Lando's day. It always was.

Stood proud on the podium were the same three that usually stood there: a McLaren, a Red Bull, and a Ferrari. A Brit, a Dutchman. and a Monegasque. The sun's golden glare made them looked blessed, like a trio of angels. Oscar couldn't bother to look from behind his back, ignoring the barrage and sea of voices and lights blinding and deafening him if he did. But they weren't for him, not all of them. It didn't matter. The spotlight was focused on something - rather, someone - else, and he needed to leave. Fast and unbothered. His hotel couldn't have been that far from the track, especially when he was sure some of the other drivers were headed their way there also after the race ended. 

Especially the two he knew, who he shared a room with. Who he always shared hotel rooms with, discretely under the guise of being a "group of best friends." Whatever people thought, Oscar needed them. Particularly in this moment, when his head began to feel too heavy for him to support himself. When he needed to be away from the masses and fall into a special sort of headspace only they knew about, behind closed doors. Those special, intimate moments. 

After having to do some careful finding in the garage and stripping of his fireproofs, Oscar grabbed his phone and immediately went to his contacts. He's changed enough out of his race suit and back to regular McLaren merch that he could sneak back out to the paddock. In such a fast amount of time too, seeing how the rest of the papaya crew was still too focused on throwing Lando around. Then again, Oscar was rushing in a hurry and practically gone ghost once he situated his cap.

Most of the drivers on the grid stayed at the same hotel for certain races, their team executives booking them months in advance. They were never usually that far from the track or paddock either, for the teams convienence. Such was the case for Miami, where Oscar currently padded open the resort's luxerious doors in an urgent manner. Did McLaren need him right now? Probably, if Lando's win got boring to rub in. Would Oscar head back to attend? Nope.

As the Aussie went to dial the number labelled, "Lancey," in a strike of coincidence, life decided to serve itself to him for once. Meeting eye to eye with the Canadian again off track, the taller male's expression went from one of surprise to worry. The concern seemed to rub off the younger man, as evident by how Lance was able to pick up on it quickly.

"Osc, what are ya' doing here? Shouldn't you be at McLaren's garage?"

Nothing. No response. All he received was a big, brown-eyed stare from his dark brown eyes into his. Lance's worry seemed to grow tenfold at his boyfriend's out-of-character silence. Something must've been really wrong, his race must've gone pretty bad. Lance knew his wasn't great either, but Oscar handled his more deeply.

The Canadian looked down with his own dark eyes, reflecting a vulnerable Oscar in them like a mirror. His voice almost cracked, bringing a hand to grip his tightly as he pulled them towards the elevator. Oscar wasn't even aware that the button for their floor was clicked, and soon they were off.

"I'll- I'll need to phone Esteban as soon as possible, tell him he needs to come back immediately. He's—" Lance's voice trembled, as if he had something stuck in his throat. This ride was taking too long, goosebumps forming on skin from pure nervousness.

Seemingly noticing, Oscar rubbed his head of fluffy peanut-brown hair against his side. He looked up into the eyes of his boyfriend, and felt the Canadian's nerves rapidly calm down. Realizing what kind of care Oscar needed now, the taller man spoke again, this time much more clearly.

"Esteban, right. Este is uhm, busy with Fernando right now. He'll be back soon, hopefully with some food. But I might need him to come quicker, especially since you're going into err—" Oscar pawed at Lance's sweater, cutting his train of thought off again. Feeling concerned yet a little more relaxed now, he laughed. Their elevator had reached their floor. Lance heard Oscar whine a little at how hard he gripped the Aussie's hand while walking over to their room door.

"Pupspace." A smile bright as the morning sun spread on his features. Oscar's followed as he laid put on the velvet floor, restlessly pawing at his feet.

He would've preferred if he had brought a leash to Aston Martin's garage, or perhaps if Esteban did to Alpine's. It would've made his job a lot easier, yet it's not like he could've predicted Oscar would regress this soon. Or this severe. Or Nando potentially finding it on accident. That would've been one hell of an embarrassing talk.

After some fumbling with the lock of the hotel door and Lance's strangely large quantity of keys, the door finally let loose. The Montrealer squatted down near the Australian, exchanging a gentle glance and offering his hand to help him back up to his feet, although only to walk him inside. Oscar's weight felt like a bag of thick rice, needing all of Lance's support to be carried inside as if he couldn't use his legs anymore. Granted, that was because he couldn't. He wasn't "grown" enough to do so currently. 

The lights of their hotel room were turned down low, a nice warm orange coating everything. Enough time had passed that the Miami sun had begun to set, its luminous colors bleeding through the large glass windows and fine curtains as it dipped into the horizon. The sight almost made Lance sleepy, almost falling into a drowsy state before realizing he was carrying someone much sleepier already.

Setting Oscar aside on the nearest couch, he kept his head up as the Aussie looked at him with pleading eyes. Wanting warmth and attention now that they were behind closed doors, he whined again, in a higher pitch than last time. Lance couldn't help but chuckle, hands on his hips as he returned some sass.

"Alright alrighty, Butterscotch. I'm trying to be fast for ya, but you're asking quite a lot!" The mahogany of the Canadian's lively eyes reflected back onto Oscar's, who couldn't help his cheeks grow pink like bushes of roses. The younger man watched from his place, sat on the couch, as Lance looked around their temporary living space for a few moments. Almost urgently so.

When finished, he had a familiar leather collar wrapped in his hands. Oscar's eyes went wide at the sight. Unable to keep his excitement down, he reached his thin paws out in a 'grabby' motion and yelped. Yip yapping away. Another laugh escaped Lance, who rested a rough hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Who knew Esteban and I had such a needy, impatient puppy..."

"But I shouldn't mock you this much, especially when ya need this more than me right now." Despite his outward manner and physique compared to the Aussie, the Quebecker's hands were quite gentle as he began wrapping the accessory around his partner's neck. Oscar, of course, stayed still and soaked in the attention like a sponge. Feeling the black and orange-accented leather lock into place and hearing his name tag (which simply read: "OP31, replies to 'Oscar' or 'Butterscotch.' If found, return to Stroll or Ocon.") jingle, he finally relaxed. The bad thoughts from earlier were beginning to drain out.

Not bothering to change either of them out of their team merch, Lance pulled his pet into his grip with one arm. Oscar fell immediately into his chest, pawing at it before circling around to settle himself down more comfortably. Lance gazed down, petting the fluffy caramel-brown hair between his fingers as he pressed a kiss on the Australian's nose bridge.

"You're a good boy, Osc. A good pup." Lance paused, looking away from the chocolately love in Oscar's eyes to his own fingers. Fidgeting and flicking them around, he felt a certain paw mess with it. Lance felt a familiar pair of eyes look back up at him again.

"I'm just— sorry. Sorry for you. I just feel bad that, well, ya know. Lando, Carlos, or whoever, ruined your race today."

A high pitched whimper followed in agreement as the younger man laid his head against the chest of Canadian, opting to lay against the armrest as he waited for their other partner to come home. Oscar took in his partner's scent as he laid on his side, curled up in his arms. Faintly smelling like maple with hints of pecan pie. A cold Autumn breeze over the warmth of a thick cotton scarf.

"It wasn't your fault. I know your mind will tell you otherwise, but I won't. I know, I know..."

Oscar was more than upset about the earlier drama and results, but wouldn't be lying if he admitted that he couldn't care anymore. Fortunately fleeting away, then gone in the wind. Was almost like a near memory that he since brushed off once returning home.

Home where he could unwind, where he could be his true self. Where he could no longer worry about the race or any sort of grid drama. A home where he could be with physically, no matter where he went. Melbourne, Suzuka, Shanghai, Miami...

He was safe at home. Safe, secure, and warm. Home meant comfort, but it also meant security. Private, yet seeked fun. Home never judged him for letting his walls down, or anything else really. Home made him feel seen. Feel loved. Acknowledged.

Lance was home, Oscar's home. Nothing could change that. Nothing would. He wore dark green, but loving him was red.

And so were both of their cheeks currently, mutually flushed as they pressed against eachother. Lance wasn't sleeping, no, but he was surely entertaining himself as he watched Oscar try not to. Yet a peck to the cheek helped his senses kick in, as he giggled and licked at the Montrealer's face.

Smiles were exchanged once more, Lance couldn't help but keep playing with the silk of Oscar's hair. The younger man melted to the touch, rubbing against him in an attempt for more petting. His collar seemed to be a bit too tight for his skin, causing a noticeable red mark around his neck. He had his hands available, but seemed to prefer Lance's help.

"I just wish they came to some sense, ya know? Carlos, I mean. I— I don't understand him."

The Quebecker stood up, causing the reaction of his little spoon to do the same. Oscar fell to the floor. Knobby knees against the velvet carpet as he stayed on his fours. Lance stood to stretch, leaning down to pet the Aussie as he walked towards his temporary water bowl. Tapping the side twice, Oscar skittered across obediently. Lance's train of thought continued again as he leaned against the wall, watching Oscar lap up his water.

"There's always gonna be those types of people on the grid, the ones that want you gone. I've been through it, so has Esteban. Even Lewis." 

Oscar stayed put on the floor, sitting crissed-cross with his two front hands infront. Water ran from his face down his chin. A noticeable stain now soaking the collar of his papaya-orange polo. He turned his head to the side at Lance's words, whining an octave louder. Brown eyes staring.

"I know what it's like to constantly be compared to your teammate too. You— You have to survive with it in this sport, unfortunately."

Lance adjusted his posture, squatting on the floor before standing up on his knees. Unlike Oscar, he wobbled, only stabilizing himself with a hand behind him on the floor. He pat at his thigh, whistling as he locked eye contact with the Australian, before bringing him in a tight embrace.

"You don't deserve any of this, Butterscotch. None of this. I'm sorry."

The Canadian's grip seemed to fasten against Oscar's skinnier body like a death grip. As if he didn't want to let him go, or let him breathe. Oscar rested his head the broad of Lance's shoulder, hands splayed on his lover's back. He didn't know where else to leave them.

He felt Lance's hands curl into the caramel of his hair, like milkweed silk between his rough fingers. Oscar closed his eyes, huffing before shaking slightly. His breath stuttering as his chest heaved, feeling like the weight of several stones. Was he crying? He can't remember the last time he did that, especially over a race. Over Lando. Over Carlos. Over everything and anything. Lance hugged him tightly, shushing him as he felt cold tears stain his sweater.

A nearby phone on the coffee table began to ring. Lance's phone. Must've been Esteban. 

They let it play, ignoring the ringtone repeating before it eventually ended. They didn't need to move for the world, to wait for others. All Lance needed to do was pay attention to his puppy. His pet. His lover. His Oscie. 

It was his night. Oscar's night. It always was.

Atleast to Lance. Esteban too, but only one of them was present. That's all that mattered. Oscar had people that cared, spotlight or not. Race winner or not. Unruined race or not.

Before he knew it, the Australian felt lightheaded. And light. His sopping eyes opened once again as streams littered his face, his blurry vision turning around to notice he wasn't on the floor anymore. Lance was carrying him in his arms, bridal style now. It made Oscar feel small. Vulnerable. Safe. Too deep into headspace and his own insecurities to feel anything but like a puppy. 

Looking up, the younger man was met with dark brown eyes meeting his gaze. The Canadian nodded, allowing Oscar to use his sweater to wipe his tears. He pressed a kiss to the bridge of Oscar's nose again, before laying him in the marble of their hotel room's bathtub. His soft yet coarse hands made quick work of the leather collar around the Aussie's neck, rubbing the slight red it left behind. 

Mercy coated Lance's eyes, as he sighed yet still gave a gentle smile. His cheeks lightly budding pink like a bush of hibiscuses. Oscar turned his nose up, smiling back in a toothy grin that went up the corners of his face. Face redder than salmon roe. Lance gripped his delicate hands, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. His skin was soft like the rest of him, yet he smelled his strongest here. Like oranges and vanilla. 

Lance leaned against the tub, slowly taking off each of his dear's garments. Maybe Oscar had his hands available, but he was too deep into headspace to speak — let alone strip himself. The toffee of his eyes stayed locked onto the Quebecker, purring as he went limp. Even if Oscar could take care of himself, Lance knew he needed him now. And now was all that mattered.

At the final piece of clothing, Oscar's boxers, Lance paused. His hands moved up the pale of the Australian's body to cup his cheeks, moving his thumbs against them in a soothing motion. Lance looked down at him, gentle, serene. Oscar let him do anything, and he was glad he trusted him that much. Like a puppy to its owner. A vulnerable animal to its caretaker. He pressed one final kiss to his soft, pink lips. He tasted like sorbet, Lance's favorite.

They locked eyes once more before Lance's train of thought continued. His faint voice finding itself again.

"Let's— Let's get you cleaned up, Scotchie."

[indigosabyss]

(based off this idea i had of the ms marvel squad hijacking sm:ffh)

"Peter, where were you?" Mr Harrington demanded the second they finally stumbled into the slightly submerged hotel. Which was fair, because Peter had vanished on an international trip where a primordial monster had attacked the city.

"Got lost in all the- that," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the door. Then remembered the group of kids he had brought here with him. "Also I met these guys! And I think they're also on a school trip?"

The conversations between his classmates froze. The Blipped ones looked confused, but the ones who hadn't were openly staring with suspicion and animosity. Even Mr Harrington and Mr Dell looked uncomfortable.

"S-something wrong?" he asked, feeling once again slow on the uptake.

Brad marched forward, past Peter to jab the flannel-wearing brunet boy in the sternum. "What're you doing here, Coles?"

The guy stumbled back, frowning. "Do I know you?"

"Also, his name's Bruno," Kamala added, glaring Brad down.

"I know your names, Khan!"

"Is there something we're missing here?" MJ interrupted, "Cause y'all are acting weird about this random tour group."

"We're from Coles High," Famous Girl Zoe said while typing on her phone, which explained absolutely nothing. "I'm guessing they're feeling threatened."

Peter took a second to look at the half-drowned, scrawny teenagers he had dragged in. What threat?

Mr Harrington cleared his throat. "You remember how Midtown had a gold streak in the Tri-state Science Fair for twelve years? After the... Decimation, we never even medaled. Coles High and Brooklyn Visions Duke are so far ahead, everyone's left scrabbling for third place. And we lost a lot of bright, young students," he sniffed slightly.

Kamala and Bruno cringed.

"Hey, we won second place this year, now that I was back on the team!" Flash said.

"Because Carrelli was off at Caltech for an early semester, dipshit," Josh shook his head. "The Coles High science fair project isn't done by the whole class like everyone else does it. They just let Khan and Carrelli loose on us poor defenceless souls."

"That's... not how that goes," Kamala argued. "We're just making cool stuff, man."

"Uh, no. You hate to lose. That's why you show up with shit like anti-gravity water," Nakia said.

"And the tiny nuclear generator," Zoe added.

"And that stupid life-size replica of Thor's hammer which shot actual lightning. I hate it so much, and please tell me you guys brought it with you," Brad said, all in a rush.

"You made a what-?! Please tell me you were able to aim where the lightning was going, because that is so cool," Peter gushed, overcome with excitement.

Kamala shrugged, "The aim was so-and-so. But not really the time, I told you, we aren't on a school trip, so Aamir has probably worked himself up to a conniption by now..."

----

When they finally reached the hotel room SABER had got for them, Aamir was lying across one of the beds, videochatting with Tyesha with no hint of concern.

"Hey, there she is!" he cheered when Kamala entered. "Sounded bad out there. Everything alright?"

"All good. Most dangerous thing out there was jealous science fair losers," she said, running a towel through her hair.

"Careful, I remember someone being the reason they put plexiglass between the finalists of the local esports tournaments."

[voidtouched-blue]

Starter for @musesofawolf - Kaleh'a

It was a generous gift for E-Sumi-Yan to provide her with a private place to continue her studies. Having excelled in Conjury at a quick pace, her skill had impressed the Padjal. While she was not granted the mark of the Elemental's chosen, he often sang their praises to her. It was like she had become a different person entirely. It felt strange to be offered such kindness by others. Cyra even had a hard time thanking him for his incredible kindness in providing her with his old cabin. The hut was simply vacant and had been for years, and he felt it was time to pass it on to someone who would put it to good use. With a whole new life ahead of her, she absolutely would.

Using the survival knowledge gained from her mentor, and some additional lessons learned from the Botanist's Guild in Gridania, she had set out into the Black Shroud on a mission: to fill her newly acquired home with drying herbs for use in both her studies, and her work as a healer. With the bounty of the forest at her doorstep, it would be rather easy to gather what she needed. She had the freedom that privacy granted, and could allow herself the opportunity to let the mask fall.

Cyra had neatly folded her robes reserved for her station and left them carefully stacked on the stand near her bed. Her trip today called for practicality, and wearing her healer's garb would only make it harder for her to maneuver into the smaller spaces for specific herbs. Donning a pair of weathered wraps to protect her feet, fitted leather trousers, and a layered tunic cinched with her belt made her ready for her foray into the wilderness. On her thick belt, she kept a sheathed dagger, a lantern, and a few pouches handy for any quick nicks or injury she might sustain from brambles or wild animals. Finally adding her satchel to her ensemble, and grabbing her staff for good measure, the young healer took a deep breath and finally set out into the forest.

In the first few hours of her small adventure, she was able to harvest some seeds to start a garden, and some thick bundles to hang from the ceiling. The unfortunate side of being so new to harvesting her own herbs was the lack of knowledge in how to avoid the brambles on some of the more difficult plants. She was grateful that she had the foresight to bring her own bandages, and reminded herself to find a leatherworker in the city to craft her some protective leather sleeves for her next adventure. Thankfully the nicks were superficial, but that didn't mean they bled any less. Sleeves rolled up, bandages out in full display, she hadn't even considered what kind of creatures the smell of it would attract.

Cyra had herself half-buried in a log when she heard it approach. This particular part of the Shroud had quite an aggressive pack of raptors. What she failed to remember was that this was also the territory of the Ziz. Large, bright-colored reptile-like birds that towered over most things in the Twelveswood. The Miqo'te had never hunted animals before, and hadn't anticipated being crept up on by a small pack that caught her uncomfortably close to their nesting grounds. But the largest of them all was a blue-back. It was the alpha of the group, and they had a tendency to encroach on the settlements in the area as they continued to expand their territory. This one in particular had become quite the problem for the Wood Wailers, and a bounty had been set up for any brave enough to eliminate it.

Finally reaching her quarry inside the rotting log, she stuffed the peculiar mushroom into her satchel and began the backwards crawl out. Right as she had seated herself in the dirt, she heard the brush rumble behind her. Her ears rotated quickly, picking up each step of the massive creature. The pace of her heart quickened. Snatching up her staff, she hopped to her feet.

"Just my luck." She sighed as the beast came into view. It's massive, tooth-lined beak clacking angrily as it approached. It's head bobbed as the blue-back sized her up. As small as he was, she wouldn't provide much of a meal, but easy prey was easy prey. She sniffed, and with a quick motion stuck her staff into the dirt. The creature's feathers bristled as it let out a short shriek, an admission of challenge.

"I haven't had enough exercise lately, this could be fun." She tilted her head to each side, and assumed a defensive stance, hand on the pommel of her dagger. Her tail flicked back and forth, ready and waiting for the beast to make its first strike.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I’m in a Batfam mood so I’ll put this here for if Batfam comes back around but I am stuck on the idea of Tim or Damian specifically seeing platonic!darling as like, a twin.

For Tim it’d happen if Batsis was his equal in intelligence, can match his wit and tenacity and his strategic mind. Darling is his fresh eyes on a project, can pick apart his mood with a glance. It’d be more difficult to get this darling to his side because Batsis just /knows/ him and /knows/ what he’s planning, but that just drives Tim more. He needs them by his side, because how else would they be so in sync if they were not of the same mind?

For Damian, it would be because Batsis is his opposite. The yin to his yang, the water to his fire, the light in the dark, so on so forth. Damian would be in jealous awe at how easy it is for Batsis to be social and bright, so giving and good. He’d want to be with them constantly because they weren’t anything like him. They can trust without paranoia, can smile even if they’re in pain. If the two are young enough then Batsis is the one person he can be a child with. He needs them to love him because it’s so easy for them to love. He refuses to share it with anyone else.

Idk it’s just. The extreme love of a yandere that literally thinks of their darling as their other half, split down the middle and their mind breaks a little when the darling doesn’t agree. Can’t Batsis see? Even if they weren’t biologically related, they were meant to be one.

I really love this concept! Being someone’s other half doesn’t strictly have to be romantic and to mix the yandere-ness into it just adds so much more to the intensity of it.

Tim feels like his darling is his missing piece, when they’re together no matter what they fit so perfectly and he can’t help but love the feeling of being complete. He’s grateful that they know him as well as they do, at least before his obsession has set in. He appreciates that he doesn’t have to tell them how he’s feeling or what exactly he’s thinking for them to just understand him right away. Tim can’t quite explain his overwhelming connection to the Reader but he absolutely clings onto it, onto them. But given how intelligent the Reader is they’ll be more than likely to pick up on his obsession which will only cause them to distance themself from Tim, resulting in him only being further plunged into his obsession all the more. How could he possibly let his other half pull away from him? How could he just allow himself to lose that feeling of being whole? He can’t and he won’t. It’s during this time that Tim finds himself resenting that the Reader does indeed know him so well, that they can so easily read him as well as they can, but then again that’s what made them so similar and what worked for them to begin with. Not only can the Reader read him and know him like the back of their hand, Tim can do the same with them. It’s very much a back and forth thing between the two, their own little game really. It would be hard to know who made the first move or had the first thought out of the two given how eerily in sync they are. But Tim may just have to up the ante if he wants to keep his darling with him and protect that feeling of fulfillment he has because of them. He may have to stray from his and his darling’s similarity, especially in how they think and react for him to be able to be one step ahead of them and ensure they stay right where they are in his life.

Damian at first is filled with only envy and resentment at just how easy it comes for the Reader to make friends, to interact with anyone they come into contact with, to be able to freely express themselves how they please while he has to keep himself under wraps and remain guarded because that’s how he’s been conditioned. He use to find himself perplexed by just how the Reader couldn’t be overcome with the utter need to watch their back, to look over their shoulder, to question the intentions of each and everyone they crossed paths with. He just thought that they were too soft and clueless about the true evils of the world but eventually he found himself falling into a different rhythm with them. He still can’t fully comprehend how they could possibly come to love and care for him like they have but then again that was just how they were.

He didn’t have to prove himself to his darling for them to see and know him for who he really was and the purpose he had. Damian didn’t have to do anything but exist for them to give him a chance to be a part of their life and he couldn’t be more grateful for it. And he would do anything to continue to stay in their life, especially if that meant keeping others from being able to. Damian sees the Reader as something to protect, they’re just too good and pure compared to him and he wants to do everything in his power to keep them that way. He in no way, shape, or form wants to share their love and attention, and given how freely they give it all away to such undeserving people, Damian can’t help but feel threatened that someone else will come along and steal his place and be what his darling needs. And because of that he’ll ward off anyone and everyone from even coming close to being able to do just that. He’s able to finally be himself with someone, to show them who and what he truly is deep down. Damian is finally able to let himself go, to drop his guard and breakdown his walls for someone and he’s not just going to allow for someone to take that away from him. Damian found his place, a sense of being accepted and loved, something that really feels like a home to him and he’s not going to let go of it.

[runthepockets]

Thank you for including Nicki in your rap post. Many people have tried to write her off for years and downplay her achievements due to her personal life

Yeah, I saw someone trying to do that on my post (RE: her marrying that pedophile and getting her brother out of jail for rape). While I don't think those actions are in good taste, I don't think that's enough to get me to write off her legacy.

She was the first foot in the door of women in mainstream Rap music that felt authentic and individual (besides, like, Lauryn Hill, who couldn't handle the spotlight at such a young age and who turned to a life as a private citizen after all the shit she was dealing with while working on Miseducation.) Unlike women rappers of past, she didn't have to do the whole "female mafioso" thing that a lot of women had pushed onto them by their clueless male counterparts, she didn't have to play into the role of dating / being seen attractive by a powerful man in the music industry to get signed on and she didn't have to write hypersexual lyrics that didn't reflect her in order to get those men to sign on her work.

She was allowed to wear bright clothes and make goofy alter egos and make silly voices and be fun and independent and talk about love and sex from a black feminine perspective. She brought a potent and unique sense of charm and vibrancy to the world of Hip Hop due to her Carribean upbringing, the likes of which are honestly unspoken heroes in the culture (Wyclef Jean brought us Carribean Hip Hop fusion before we even knew we were ready for it, Foxy Brown's assertive and fiesty rhymes and style were huge inspirations on both Nicki and Megan Thee Stallion, Busta Rhymes is....just fucking look at and listen to the guy, man, he's been ahead of the curb from the jump.) She was the first female rapper I can really remember girls my age getting latched onto and getting excited over.

So, yeah. Again, while I don't think the men she surrounds herself with are ideal, it's just not enough for me to write her out of the culture or our history. Hip Hop has always been a boys club, she was the first to change that. In any other subculture, she would be untouchable, or at least would have people talking about her with more sympathy and nuance. Why the sympathy stops for her idk.

[robbinggoodfellows]

We are really sleeping on this poem as a society

                  Orpheus, Eurydice, Hermes - Rainer Maria Rilke

This was the eerie mine of souls. Like silent silver-ore they veined its darkness. Between roots the blood that flows off into humans welled up, looking dense as porphyry in the dark. Otherwise, there was no red. There were cliffs and unreal forests. Bridges spanning emptiness and that huge gray blind pool hanging above its distant floor like a stormy sky over a landscape. And between still gentle fields a pale strip of road unwound. They came along this road. In front the slender man in the blue cloak, mute, impatient, looking straight ahead. Without chewing, his footsteps ate the road in big bites; and both his hands hung heavy and clenched by the pour of his garment and forgot all about the light lyre, become like a part of his left hand, rose tendrils strung in the limbs of an olive. His mind like two minds. While his gaze ran ahead, like a dog, turned, and always came back from the distance to wait at the next bend– his hearing stayed close, like a scent. At times it seemed to reach all the way back to the movements of the two others who ought to be following the whole way up. And sometimes it seemed there was nothing behind him but the echo of his own steps, the small wind made by his cloak. And yet he told himself: they were coming, once; said it out loud, heard it die away . . . They were coming. Only they were two who moved with terrible stillness. Had he been allowed to turn around just once (wouldn't that look back mean the disintegration of this whole work, still to be accomplished) of course he would have seen them, two dim figures walking silently behind: the god of journeys and secret tidings, shining eyes inside the traveler's hood, the slender wand held out in front of him, and wings beating in his ankles; and his left hand held out to: her. This woman who was loved so much, that from one lyre more mourning came than from women in mourning; that a whole world was made from mourning, where everything was present once again: forest and valley and road and village, field, river and animal; and that around this mourning-world, just as around the other earth, a sun and a silent star-filled sky wheeled, a mourning-sky with displaced constellations–: this woman who was loved so much . . . But she walked alone, holding the god's hand, her footsteps hindered by her long graveclothes, faltering, gentle, and without impatience. She was inside herself, like a great hope, and never thought of the man who walked ahead or the road that climbed back toward life. She was inside herself. And her being dead filled her like tremendous depth. As a fruit is filled with its sweetness and darkness she was filled with her big death, still so new that it hadn't been fathomed. She found herself in a resurrected virginity; her sex closed like a young flower at nightfall. And her hands were so weaned from marriage that she suffered from the light god's endlessly still guiding touch as from too great an intimacy. She was no longer the blond woman who sometimes echoed in the poet's songs, no longer the fragrance, the island of their wide bed, and no longer the man's to possess. She was already loosened like long hair and surrendered like the rain and issued like massive provisions. She was already root. And when all at once the god stopped her, and with pain in his voice spoke the words: he has turned around–, she couldn't grasp this and quietly said: who? But far off, in front of the bright door stood someone whose face had grown unrecognizable. He just stood and watched, how on this strip of road through the field the god of secret tidings, with a heartbroken expression, silently turned to follow the form already starting back along the same road, footsteps hindered by long graveclothes, faltering, gentle, and without impatience.

[linhardts-crest]

A first time for everything

A little something Casphardt because I feel bad and needed to vent. CW for character death.

Linhardt had never held the capacity to grieve for people that died. Even more so during a time of war, when death was all too common. He had told his professor as such just a few months ago.

But as he sat next to the by now infuriatingly familiar tombstone, he started to wonder if this was what it was supposed to feel like.

The gaping cavity he felt in the place where his heart was supposed to be. A whining ache that spread through his entire being, dulling every emotion he felt. And that was saying something, as Linhardt usually did not feel strong emotions in the first place.

Never, unless he was with Caspar. The one person that could get Linhardt to laugh. Or to become angry.

He recalled the first time he was angry at the bluenet. It had been the very day they met and Caspar had tried to show off his strength by jumping across a big gap between two walls in Fort Merceus. He failed, of course, his small stature was never going to make it across.

Linhardt had healed his scrapes and cuts, all the while lecturing him about the dangers of charging ahead recklessly. He had kept practicing healing magic from then on, determined to keep Caspar safe. He had even learned warping magic, so he could wisk him away from danger should the need arise. All for him.

How silly. When the perfect moment to cast warp came, Linhardt was frozen in fear. The warrior came running at him, and he just stood there. When his favorite person in the whole world came rushing in to save him, he just stood there. When the axe tore into his back, he just stood there.

He only regained his composure when the warrior was killed by an arrow to the chest, fired by someone Linhardt did not know. He rushed towards his friend, but it was too late.

“Heh, you were right, Lin. I do charge ahead recklessly. Please… Don’t come after me.” Those were his final words, accompanied by a bloody hand resting on the green-haired boy’s cheek. They were for him, for nobody else to hear.

He sighed as he leaned his head against the tombstone, the feeling uncomfortable but necessary to ground him. To connect him to his Caspar.

He was in no hurry to die, even now, but he had started to understand why some people would become so filled with grief that they would send themselves to meet the goddess.

Life was just not going to be as bright anymore without the young Bergliez boy in it.

Claude had put him on the bench for now. Just as well. There was nothing worth fighting this senseless war over. He had only joined it really for Caspar. He had switched houses for him, knowing the smaller boy would be useless without him. Caspar had snuck into his father’s mansion in the lead-up to the reunion at Garreg Mach, asking - begging - Linhardt to come along. He could never say no to him.

He remembered the night of the ball. They had danced. Linhardt smiled softly at the memory. People had looked at them weird. Not just because they were both boys, but because they were Caspar and Linhardt, perhaps the last two people one would expect to see dancing. Not counting Bernadetta, that is, who’s showing up would be a miracle in and of itself.

He remembered how Caspar had looked at him. Blushing slightly as he realized they were being stared at.

“Pay them no mind, Cas. What we do is nobody’s business but our own,” was all Linhardt had said.

That had made the blue boy relax slightly. “I like you, Lin.”

Linhardt still did not know if he had meant that platonically or romantically. He had meant it Caspar-ly. Not that Linhardt would have cared. He held deep affection for the other boy, maybe the only person he had ever held affection for. But he was perfectly content with their relationship as it was, as was Caspar. Neither had needed a label.

“You foolish boy,” Linhardt said softly to the tombstone. “I never got to thank you for saving me.”

People had tried to talk to him ever since it happened. Hilda tried to cheer him up, to no avail. Petra, their only fellow former Black Eagle on the side of the Alliance in the war, had invited him to eat with him, but he wasn’t hungry. Food had lost flavor to him.

Marianne came to bring him some books on Crest research. Those had him occupied for a while, but even those he lost interest in.

Nothing felt right. It all felt… wrong. Food had lost its flavor. Books were just words on paper he could not be bothered to understand. His professor’s Crest was a mystery that he could not care less about.

He felt empty. Dull. Aching.

The world had lost a spark now that his person was no longer in it.

As Linhardt felt a tear roll down his cheek - the first tear he had cried in Sothis knew how many years - he realized he was capable of grieving after all.

It just took the one person he cared about dying for him to find out.

[kocherry]

A Gift to the Beetle Gladiator

Arataki Itto x Reader

Hehe I just really love Itto sm and I've always wanted to write a fic about him so do enjoy this 1.2k short fic! It's just pure fluffiness to my babygirl Itto ♡

The Onis were a race that Inazumans once feared and they still do. More often now it's more of a prejudice against them. A perfect example of such situation is a young oni known as Arataki Itto.

A good for nothing deliquent... but to you he's more than that.

People often don't see beyond his usual loudness and idiocy. Itto is actually a good person at heart, he lives life the way he wants and there's nothing wrong with it. Maybe except for the times he makes children cry but that's on them... right?

"Dear Almighty Shogun I have it bad for him..."

Groaning into a pillow you turn your head to the side. Everything about Itto is just really endearing. He's like that annoying little shit that comes and go but he grows on anyone. You even defended that idiot from children who quarreled with him.

And you even promised to go with him in Onikabuto hunting and treat him to dinner tonight. So you rose from your futon and grabbed your gift for him.

You held the purple colored stuffed toy on your hands. It is quite large and had white mark designs on it. A really good replication of an Onikabuto but it's just soft and big.

Choosing this as a gift for Itto started because you thought that the Onikabuto and Itto have a lot of similarities. Well, aside from just being there doing nothing all day. They may look scary or even revolting but if you get to know them they're quite adorable.

Brushing those thoughts aside you place the stuffed toy into a box. You hurriedly changed into your usual yukata and went to the meeting spot. It was just an area outside of the city where the view of Amakane Island is just up ahead.

A small smile is brought up to your face as you see a familiar tall figure with silver hair with red highlights. Itto wasn't looking at your direction which made you grin evilly. This was a perfect time to sneak behind his back.

You were tiptoeing while holding your gift protectively but as you drew closer you could hear Itto's mutterings. And what you heard made your heart ache.

"Okay it's not that bad you always hear them telling you're a bad influence, a scary oni, or even a criminal!" Itto exaspertedly threw his hands on the air venting out his frustrations.

You stopped walking as Itto place a hand below his chin. His eyes looks like he was about to cry. "(Y/N) would never hate me like what that guy said... yeah they'll be here and come with me again to an onikabuto hunting!" He could recall how one parent is angry at him for making their child cry earlier.

That said parent made a back handed comment about you being too good for someone like him. Which made Itto place both hand on the sides of his head as he try to fight off what the guy had said.

"Or maybe... they finds that boring? Agh! I'm sure she doesn't mind! Even if people doesn't like me and the onis in general (Y/N) said that I'm their friend. If they do hate me they would tell me... (Y/N) would never lie to me."

This side of Itto, full of self-doubt and anguish is something you didn't expect to see. He usually is so bright, positive, and hyper all the time. Seeing Itto depricating himself is a rare occurance. It shattered your image over him... and yet his vulnerability made you admire him more.

Itto kept this negativity to himself all because he doesn't want to be seen as weak. If he did succumb to the prejudice and petty words then he would surely lose sight of his goals. The goal of living a fun life and letting people see that Onis aren't monsters.

"Itto I'm here!"

"(Y-Y/N)! Were you there this whole time?!" He stuttered at your sudden appearance and he looked afraid.

You purse your lip and restrained yourself from looking at him sadly. "Huh? No no I just got here, sorry I'm late... I really am excited to hangout with you." You played dumb but you were honest about being excited to see him.

"Don't worry there is a perfect reason why I'm a few minutes late... it's because of this!"

You were going to give the gift to him after dinner so you can run away in embarassment after you confess. But Itto needs to be reassured that you don't hate him. His feelings mattered more than your grand plan of confessing.

The box is huge and Itto's eyes lit up as he grabs your gift and takes it. "A gift for me?! The One and Oni Arataki Itto gets a gift from you, (Y/N)?!" He excitedly bounce as he points a finger at himself. You just nodded happily which made Itto tear the box apart as he brings out a stuffed Onikabuto toy that is the size of Ushi.

His silent reaction made you nervous as you rub your hands together. "Uhm do you like it? I made you a really big onikabuto plushie since you are after all... dun dun dun! The Greatest and Most Powerful Beetle Gladiator of all time!" Your voice is a bit shakey but you manage to tell Itto about why you had chosen to make a stuffed toy.

Itto then suddenly tackles you into a hug, the onikabuto plushie is the one that separated his bare chest from ever hitting your face. "Like it?! I absolutely love it (Y/N)! Hehehe!" He pulls away from.the hug holdimg the plushie in one hand while he brushes his nose with his finger.

"I know you recognize my truest strength! I'm just that great aren't I?!" He is spectacularly happy right now which made you also feel the same. "But really... thank you so much this means a lot I was a little sad earlier becausw of... stuffs!" For a second his expression is saddened. "Ah but don't worry I cheered up now all because of you!"

He leans down to your height and pats your head. You were a blushing mess at this point as his touch is gentle. And in return you brush his soft silver hair painted in red highlights away from his cheek and kiss his forehead gently.

"You're welcome and I would always make you happy because I like you very much Itto." You confess with a smile not able to really hold back.

Itto's eyes widen and then he lets out a laugh, "Awww I like you too (Y/N)~!" He ruffles your head again. "You're now my favorite person in aaaaaaall of Inazuma~! But don't tell the gang that I don't want to be accused of favoritism."

You want to feel dejected because he didn't seem to get the idea that you were confessing to him. But oh well! That really doesn't matter for now.

Maybe someday you would confess your crush to Itto properly. For now you enjoyed how he smiles at you softly while hugging the Onikabuto plushie you gave him. Your feelings just grew because you learned something new.

Itto is quite an energetic and positive fella but that doesn't mean he would be immuned to the prejudice against him. And you were for sure not going to let Itto doubt himself ever again. And seeing Itto hold your gift dearly while giggling... you were definitely going to protect that smile.

[love-that-we-were-in]

Build Callouses

Not quite a comeback fic, not quite a drabble but a secret third option (wordvomit)!! If you've ever read my Seblaine stuff before you'll know I love soulmate aus so i really had to take this chance to return. But I hope you at least enjoy it for what is is!!

@seblaineworld

Freckles. That’s what they are. This tiny, sparkling smattering of multicolour freckles across the bridge of his nose. They’re not the most noticeable, nothing like the thick scar that splits Jeff’s left eyebrow into two (a childhood incident of Nick’s that landed him in the emergency room), but it’s something. Some characteristic that ties him to his future. A characteristic that damn near everyone apparently seems to have if he’s being honest. 

Even Kurt, who Blaine tried his best with, has freckles. Granted, they reside more on his cheekbones, and they only come out when the sun is blinding, but they’re still freckles that other people can see. They’re just not super distinguishable is what he’s trying to say. In a world where One Thing is supposed to help you find your soulmate, they’re actually kind of shit. Almost enough to give up searching altogether. 

However, even in the face of unlikeliness, of the improbable (veering on impossible if he’s being truly honest) it’s not quite enough to stop Blaine being hopeful that one day it’ll happen. Someone with freckles is going to walk through the door and he’s going to recognise the pattern in the shades of brown that normal people have like they’re his own. 

(He knows he might recognise his soulmark on them. It’s this long, thin scar stretching from the crease of his elbow to an inch above his wrist - a play fight with Cooper turned rough when the dog got involved - and it’s a whole lot easier to spot in vivid multicolour, he assumes.)

He’s got years ahead of him though, teenage angst and a college degree to power through. There’s heaps of time, is what his mother tells him when he rings her at 8pm wondering why he got so unlucky. Not everyone meets their soulmate in high school, or college, or even the first few years of being a real adult. It happens when the universe is ready, is what his therapist tells him when he gets pensive over the topic. 

So he holds onto that. Forever is relative, no matter what way society wants to spin it. Regardless of everything, forever is a really long time, and he’ll get to experience Their forever. Sharing forever is what counts, is what he tells himself as he counts the freckles in his reflection every night while brushing his teeth.

*

Long sleeves are what Sebastian favours. He always has, since turning 7, when he woke up to a scar on his right arm. It takes up too much space. It’s too bright. He doesn’t like to look at it. There’s no guessing what it is, not when there’s information leaflets on soulmarks on every college campus within a 50 mile radius, but he can ignore it. Hide it away. Dark clothes with long sleeves are where he’s most comfortable. 

Inherently, he has no personal issue with the idea of soulmates. In some ways, it might be nice - the belief that destiny has something incredible in store for you. To him, and his mother, they’re restrictive. Sebastian is young, at the point in his life where figuring out who he is should be prioritised over who he’s meant to be with. And his mother is jaded, sick of life of being told what to do by archaic ideas of romance. She’s a free spirit and he’s happy to walk at a leisurely pace behind her. 

Once, during a vacation, he’d considered the moment it happens. What it would be like. How he would react. Under the stars in Greece, shoes dusted with sand, he’d rolled the sleeve of his top to his elbow, twisted it so the moonlight bounced off the colours and made them glow. Asked himself what he’d even see if he met his soulmate, since he was lacking in scars and has no birthmark that he can find. 

Maybe, he’d though as he climbed the stairs to his hotel room, it would be so unnoticeable that he’d miss it completely. Bypass his soulmate and never know what forever could be. It was gone in the morning, back to pretending he was ignorant to fate, but it lingered in the Grecian air when he went back years later.