#But a few days on out of three weeks is still a grand break. ^^

[loupy-mongoose]

I've been having the time of my life with my MOLD crew. :3

[littlegrapejuice]

Grid Mum 2 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Growing attached to the rookies meant that you now cared for them off track as well. So when some of them are not treated well by their teams, you and Max take your role of grid parents very seriously.

Author's Note: ok so i usually don't plan on doing part 2 for my fics but @robinivoryanvalentine gave me ideas and this lil thing was born ig so shout out to them🫶🏻 i have one request left that I'm hoping to write soon now that it's FINALLY school break and i hope I'll also get some inspo w the rest of the triple header🙂‍↕️

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

From the moment you had accepted that Max’s grid kids were also yours in the process, you had thought that your interactions with them would only be during race weekends. However, when you saw that some drama was already happening even though the season had barely started, you decided that the rookies would become both your on and off track children.

It had begun with Jack.

You had never been Alpine’s biggest fan – you mostly considered Esteban and Pierre as acquaintances during the previous season – and it had gotten worse when Flavio was back in the paddock. Still, you were glad for Jack when it was announced that he would get a full-time seat for the 2025 season – although it was a shit move from Alpine to sack Esteban for the last grand prix of 2024.

The drama had started a bit after Alpine announced their reserve drivers for 2025. First, Paul Aaron. He was a good driver, and had done a good F2 season, despite the insane amount of car issues he had suffered from. Then, Franco Colapinto. Having raced for a third of the 2024 season with Williams, Franco had quickly become a fan favourite due to this charming personality.

The issue wasn’t Alpine having two reserve drivers – it was honestly quite usual. No, the actual issue lay in fans already expecting Jack’s downfall so that Franco could take his place. Everyone was claiming that Jack only had the first five races to prove himself, and then it would be goodbye for him.

Then, it got even worse. Shortly after the New Year, Alpine announced their third reserve driver. You remembered seeing the news and being really surprised because “why do they need so many plans b?” – that’s what you had said to Max, who had agreed and had then proceeded to diss the French team for the next few minutes. And if you thought that they were done, you were wrong because Alpine waited until a few days before the first race of the season to announce their fourth reserve driver.

You truly hoped that Jack wasn’t too stressed about it, but the latest season of Drive To Survive showed you that he definitely was. The scene between Jack and Flavio in the latter’s office had truly scared you, and you couldn’t imagine the amount of pressure they were putting on the Aussie.

It also didn’t help when Jack DNFed at his home race, which led to the fans clearly awaiting the day when Alpine would replace him with Franco. The dinner you had invited him to along with the other rookies had helped, but you knew that it was only temporary comfort until the following races. The next week in China had been a bit better: Jack had finished 13th after the three DSQs, which wasn’t so bad, but you had seen the comments everywhere. ‘Fans’ were still dreaming of Franco taking his seat, not caring one bit about Jack.

You were truly saddened by the situation. Jack didn’t deserve that kind of reaction – no driver did. The only thing he deserved was the opportunity to prove himself, and his full potential couldn’t be seen after two races.

Two. races. were. not. enough.

And yet, it wasn’t Alpine that was currently at the origin of your newly-found anger. No, right now, you were only mad at one team: Red Bull Racing.

You had seen the rumours online. You had heard about them in the paddock. You hadn’t wanted to believe them; they were rumours for a reason. So when Max told you the news before it would be public, you thought he had been messing with you. You had been back in Monaco in your shared flat, when he announced it to you:

“Don’t be mad but…” Max waited for you to look at him before he kept talking. “They’re dropping Liam”.

“What?” Did you hear it well?

“Red Bull”, Max explained. “They’re switching Liam and Yuki.”

“You’re joking?”

“Wish I was, honestly. It’s such a shit decision, but I have no say in this.”

You were kind of glad that even Max wasn’t agreeing with the switch, but it still hurt. You were mad. Mad for Liam. Mad at Red Bull.

“Do they not realise they’re the fucking problem?” You couldn’t help the venom in your tone. “Have been for years. But no, it’s always the driver.”

“I know… Trust me, I wish I could have helped tilt the balance on the other side. Turns out my opinion suddenly doesn’t matter.”

“Shocker”, you sarcastically replied. You knew Max had vouched for Liam to stay; but when his team had decided something, even their star driver apparently didn’t have any right to go against it. “Do they wish to destroy another driver’s career?” You thought about Yuki, with whom you’d been friends for years since he had joined Racing Bulls. “At this home grand prix, that’s fucked up.”

“You know everything Red Bull does is fucked up at this point. That’s like your main take everytime they do something.”

“Am I wrong, though?” You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

“Unfortunately, no.” Max sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I won’t see you in my garage in Japan, then?”

“I’m not that much of a bitch, Max. I’ll show up for Yuki, obviously.”

“Obviously”, Max repeated with a chuckle. “You’ll text me which garage I have to collect you from, yeah?”

“You know me so well.” You smiled at him, before pulling him close for a quick kiss. “When are they announcing it?”

“I think some media are confirming it today, but the teams will only post about it starting tomorrow.”

“Does Liam actually know?” This was the dreaded question. You knew Red Bull was bad enough that they were capable of telling him after the entire world was made aware.

“He does, yeah.” Max thought for a second. “Don’t know for sure if they told him before Yuki, but they were decent enough not to let him find out through the internet.”

“I hope so.” You pulled out your phone, your thumb hovering over the messages application. “Is it too early to text him?” You really wanted to show Liam your support, but you were scared that Red Bull had actually been too cowardly to not notify Liam until the very last minute.

“Might be good to wait a couple days”, Max suggested. “He might be home right now, so he’ll probably have his family and friends with him.”

You nodded at Max’s words, agreeing to wait until the information would be out everywhere. Still, you made a mental note to start thinking of what you could eventually do to lift the Aussie's and Kiwi's spirits.

…..

At the end of the week, the whole world had seen the news. Red Bull Racing had definitely swapped Liam with Yuki, deciding that the younger driver had not shown enough potential after only two races.

Trusting yourself, you did what you thought was right and texted Liam as well as Jack. You sent them your address, and offered to have them for dinner that evening. You knew that even though almost the entire grid lived in Monaco, it was actually quite rare for the drivers to hang out. Max, especially, loved to stay home in order to avoid seeing his work friends. However, he was surprisingly glad to have Jack and Liam. Your boyfriend had even helped to cook tonight’s meal, and you were certain the rookies would particularly enjoy this information.

Monaco was a small town, so it didn’t take long for Jack and Liam to arrive at yours. It was known on the grid where each driver lived in the city, but actually seeing where Max lived with their own eyes felt surreal to the young drivers. When you opened the door to see them both awkwardly standing next to one another, it only took one warm smile from you to help them relax. They cautiously followed you inside; admiring every piece of furniture, every picture, Max’s beloved simulator which looked out of place in the living room you had beautifully decorated.

The most surprising thing for Jack and Liam, though, wasn’t the wall full of helmets and trophies nor the silly cushions you had bought with cats’ faces on them. No, it was the shocking view of four-times world champion Max Verstappen who was wearing an apron and currently setting the table.

When he saw you, the loving smile on his face naturally appeared. He then noticed the two rookies behind you and gave them a nod.

“Hi”, he said to them. “Welcome to our home, I guess.”

“Thanks for having us,” Jack replied. “It’s nice here.”

“Yeah”, Liam agreed. He then raised his right hand that had been holding a bag. “Hmm… I brought dessert?”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” You exclaimed. “That’s so sweet of you, Liam.”

You took a large box out of the bag, and barely had time to put it on the table that another box got put down right next to it.

“We had the same idea”, Jack stated. “We didn’t buy the same thing, though. Had time to compare when we were in the lift.”

“You guys are so nice, thank you so much!”

Quickly opening each box, you saw that Liam had brought chocolate muffins while Jack had brought profiteroles. You let yourself out to the kitchen in order to put the boxes in the fridge, which meant that the drivers were now alone in the living room.

Safe to say, the atmosphere was quite awkward. There wasn’t any tension per say, but it wasn’t everyday that Max had people from his workplace at home. Remembering what he was wearing, Max looked down at his outfit and swiftly removed his apron.

“Yeah… hmm, sorry… you guys can sit down if you want. It’s almost ready.”

Jack and Liam thanked him with a nod, before they both pulled out the closest chair to them.

“Dinner is ready indeed, but everyone’s washing their hands before we eat please.” You had just come back to the living room. Your tone wasn’t harsh, but commanding enough that no one would disobey – exactly like a mother.

You made sure that everyone, including your boyfriend, had now washed their hands before leading them back to the table. You asked Max to bring the food there, which he did. Together, you had prepared lasagna as well as some potatoes to go with it.

You served the drivers, who all thanked you with a smile. You and Max were sitting next to each other, with Jack and Liam facing you both. You then all began to eat in a comfortable silence.

“Thanks again for having us,” Liam eventually said. “Food’s really good by the way.”

“It is”, Jack agreed with a nod.

“Max is a good cook, right?” You chuckled before offering them seconds, which they gladly accepted.

“Guess I have a plan b if racing doesn't work out,” Max claimed with a shrug. “Can't say that it's really going well recently.”

“We said no work talk, remember?” You reminded him while serving the rookies. “Tonight is supposed to be about anything but your jobs.”

“It’s fine, honestly.”

“Yeah, Jack’s right. If anything, better to talk about it with y’all than anyone else,” Liam added.

“Sure?” You wondered. They both nodded, which reassured you. “Well, if you don’t mind talking about work then I guess we can do so after dinner while racing.”

“Racing?” Liam and Jack repeated.

“Y’all know how to play F1 24?” You asked them, to which they positively answered. “Then yes, racing.”

Exchanging a glance, the two drivers in front of you were now even happier to be there. A proud smile made its way on your face, glad to have your boys in a good mood.

Dinner finished quickly enough after light-hearted chats. You learnt more about Jack’s and Liam’s childhood, while they asked you questions about your and Max’s relationship. They were really enjoying their time with you – even more than with Max – and loved getting to know you outside the track.

While the drivers were moving from the dining table to the sofas in front of the massive TV that adorned the wall, you went back to the kitchen to retrieve the desserts. When you came back, Max was giving controllers to Liam and Jack before he turned the game on.

Obviously not caring about you being here, Max left the racing mode on ‘expert mode’ which clearly wouldn’t bother the other drivers present. As expected, he chose to play himself. You let Liam select Lewis while Jack selected Oscar, before it was your turn. You picked Charles as you often did, and now it was actually time to race.

As usual when you played with Max, you didn’t do great. After a couple races, Liam and Jack realised that dating a world champion didn’t mean that you had gained his driving skills. So they decided to tone it down, and let you overtake them during the next race. You hadn’t noticed, simply thinking that this track wasn’t their favourite. Max, however, immediately realised what was going on.

“You shouldn’t let her win”, he told them while taking a quick bite from his muffin. “She’s used to losing, don’t worry about her.”

“Fuck you, Max.” You threw a cushion to his face, which didn’t even affect him as he still crossed the finish line in first position.

“You’re like the worst boyfriend ever, mate. I think my girl would kill me if I didn’t let her win from time to time,” Liam explained with a chuckle.

“What?” Max turned to Liam, a serious and intimidating look now on his face.

“I– I mean, not the worst of course!” Liam was scared he had joked about the wrong thing, and tried to take back his words. “You’re the racing driver so… yeah, makes sense you’re better than her.”

“I’m kidding, Liam.” Max simply said. “God, you’re easy to pressure.”

“And you are actually the worst”. Putting down your controller, you took a profiterole and faced the rookies. “Please don’t let him scare you or some shit like that, he’s literally just a silly nerd. If anything, be the ones to intimidate him. I’ll teach you both his weaknesses.”

“I’ll ban you from my garage”, Max retorted.

“Great, I didn’t even wanna be there anyways.”

“I’ll ban you from the paddock”, Max added.

“Then I’ll date another driver who’ll give me access and overrule you”. You innocently smiled at your boyfriend, knowing that he wouldn’t manage to get the upper hand back.

“I’ll run him off track and he won’t be able to race anymore.”

“I’ll join the FIA and give you stop-and-go penalties.”

As they had been sitting between the two of you, Jack and Liam could only watch the exchange between you and Max as if it were a tennis match. They were deeply entertained, and one thought was certainly shared between them: they would definitely side with you against Max, no matter the situation.

Max was their grid mum on track. But you were their grid mum off track, and that was worth so much more to them. If Liam and Jack had been nervous to come spend the evening here, all their worries had now completely disappeared.

If anything, they could even pretend to still be bothered about what was happening to them in the Formula 1 world, just so they could spend more moments like this one. They wouldn’t need to, though. Even without the excuse of wanting to distract them and lift their spirits, you would still invite them to dinner the next day, before offering them a ride on Max’s plane as if it was yours – it kind of was, according to Max who deemed everything he owned as your possession too.

So when the four of you would arrive together in Japan, the other rookies might be jealous. They might ask Liam and Jack about how they pulled it off, and maybe the two would agree in telling a little white lie just so they would gatekeep the family time they spent with you and Max.

And it would eventually become a competition as a joke: who would be able to get the most time with their grid parents?

..........

Hope y'all enjoyed it!! Y'all cannot imagine how mad i was when the devil (rbr) switched liam and yuki - actually you kinda can bc i posted ab it lol

But i fr hate that they only give liam 2 races to prove himself like THAT'S😭NO😭ENOUGH😭 and for jack, well i saw that oliver oakes confirmed they ain't getting rid of him + plan of having him for the whole season but they aren't giving him enough love imo - like why tf y'all have 4 reserve drivers

Anywayyys i acc have no idea whether liam was made aware of the switch before it went public but let's pretend rbr ain't bitches

Don't hesitate to like or reblog if you liked this<3 and don't be shy to leave a comment so i can know your thoughts as well :))

See you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

[maxivstappen]

DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING ?

[ masterlist / requests closed ]

☽｡⋆ distance can lead to stupid, reckless decisions. but lando knows better than that, right? — lando norris x reader based on “did you like her in the morning” by nikki

ᶻ 𝗓 �� angst! pure angst 𝄞 1.7k words

You loved a loud life just the same as he did. You enjoyed the traveling, the partying, the sleepless nights, hell, even the stressful nights you wouldn’t trade for a peaceful, quiet, boring, normal life. You were eternally grateful for having a job surrounding the same tracks Lando is driving on, even if that was rather a lucky coincidence instead of a thought-through plan.

You loved it not only because it meant you’d get to be close to your boyfriend most of the time, more so because you got to experience the loudness with him. The parties, the race weekends, just everything. You’d have it without him too, and no doubt, you would have tons of fun doing so, but of course it’s better with a “super cool hot famous boyfriend” by your side, as he liked to call himself.

You loved it, until you couldn’t anymore.

Not as dramatic as it sounds. You were invited to a wedding of an old friend back at home, and Lando, for obvious reasons, couldn’t attend with you, so you flew out the country by yourself, giving Lando one last good luck kiss a few days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix. You missed him dearly, but you also missed your friends at home whom you haven’t seen in what felt like forever, and really, what’s a better reason for a reunion than a wedding?

But that’s where the trouble began.

You liked to call yourself independent. Very independent, even. You didn’t have a problem with being far from Lando for a few weeks, and while you of course loved him more than anyone else in this world, you’ve stated before that in case of you losing the job for whatever reason or if you just couldn’t travel with him anymore, you’d think a long distance relationship would work just well. At least for you.

Of course, the constant missing your partner would complicate things, but that’s still no reason to break up a relationship that has lasted for longer than three years already. At least that’s what you thought.

Lando liked to call himself independent too. Very independent, even. Too bad it’s all a lie.

Lando has always hated the idea of being away from you, or rather the idea of you being far from him. It’s not like he didn’t have any trust in you, it’s just become normal for him to always have you at least somewhat in his reach. That’s how your relationship has always been, you were coworkers before you were lovers.

He didn’t mind you taking a few days off. He also didn’t mind you wanting to spend some time with your family and friends who were still located far, far away from wherever you two would usually have to travel to for the many races. However, he did mind you not being near him.

It bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

You’ve talked about it before, talked about him being too needy and too possessive from time to time, but never once have you two fought about it. You thought you never would, and you were right. Your departure was slightly painful for the both of you, but it was only 2 weeks that you‘d be gone, and it’s not at all like you couldn’t stay in contact. So there was nothing to worry about, right?

Or so you thought.

The moment you arrived at you local airport you saw your mom run up to you, caging you in her arms as if to never let you go again. Your father wasn’t far behind, and then came your brother. It was a sweet little moment of a family reuniting as a whole again. And even though you wanted to set your whole focus on the few next days to come, the lovely wedding and the friends you once lost on the way who you’d now finally see again, Lando never really left your mind. You just didn’t understand why, you weren’t usually like this.

Maybe it was just that after five years of knowing each other and three of those spent dating, you did grow somewhat dependent. you knew it wasn’t the truth, but blaming it on a simple thing like that seemed terribly easier than giving in to the thoughts of what could actually be the cause of it. You didn’t have any time for that. You weren’t here to think about work or about Lando, but about the things that were right in front of your eyes, which at this moment was the beautiful white wedding decorated with all sorts of flowers of sunset hues.

The wedding was held on a beach, surrounded by the dreamy sound of waves crashing and seagulls singing their own nupital melodies. You arrived with one of your old friends Nina, both of you wearing long and flowy pastel dresses, just as the dress code ordered you to. The day went on with you two crying at seeing one of your childhood friends getting married, listening to the heartfelt vows of bride and groom.

Your mind immediately went to Lando and you standing at the altar like they did. You knew it was too soon, and you knew he didn’t have time for marriage, even less for planning a wedding, but you still couldn’t help it. You really did miss him more this time, and throughout the whole ceremony, the feeling of something being incredibly off only intensed.

But the night came, and the feeling faded. Or at least the drinks made it do that.

You were sitting with Nina and two guys you used to be very close with at the dim bar near the dance floor when you suddenly noticed something light up inside your purse. You didn’t mind it at first, not wanting to be rude towards Tom who was trying to talk to you without stumbling over his word completely, but the shots you downed beforehand made it undoubtedly harder.

Your phone lit up again. Slowly getting on your nerves, you decided to wait until Tom’s attention was fixated on Nina again to then check your messages and - missed calls?

—

Lando hated how his mood changed whenever you were gone. It felt as if there was something missing when you weren’t there waiting for him at home after debriefing or after PR events and whatnot. He missed your hugs and kisses, your smile and most importantly, just your touch.

Truth be told - but never to you - when you first started dating, for Lando, the thriving point was attraction. One month in, that’s when he realized that he wasn’t getting rid of you any time soon. Not that he minded. Two months in and the two of you made it official, of course not without any drama because how was a McLaren driver allowed to date a McLaren employee? Two weeks and the conversations and the hate online slowly died down, but your relationship kept on blooming. There was just one thing that somehow had Lando incredibly confused - why did your relationship suddenly feel more like you couldn’t get rid of him? Why did it feel like he was the one attached to you instead of the other way around?

Not that it felt bad or anything, he was just very used to have the girl being that dependent on him, to always want his attention, to always ask for his opinion on everything. Now he was the one all over you, and you didn’t mind it at all. You had the man you love wrapped tightly around your finger, just like he had you. For three years now.

But that didn’t help him right now, not with jealousy nagging at his side like a demon. You were out, enjoying your time with people you loved, and while he should be happy for you, he spent his time rather annoyed at you not being where he was. It’s only been a week, and work has already failed to keep his mind off of you. And he hated it. He knew it was the day of the wedding, and he was done wasting his time only thinking about you, so what else was there for a man to do instead of going clubbing with the guys? He hadn’t spent time with them in a long time, neither had he gone clubbing these past fem months, too caught up with Formula 1. So this would be okay, right? Just some drinks to keep his mind off of you.

Right?

—

15 missed calls from carlos sainz.

that was weird, you thought, and your stomach dropped and you felt the dread creeping up your consciousness. It had you feeling weaker than ever.

You quietly excused yourself to go to the bathroom, though every step towards it made it harder and harder to breathe.

What if something had happened to him? A work incident? Then how did Carlos know? Were they hanging out and he hurt himself? Were they out and someone there hurt Lando?

Did something happen to your Lando?

Your finger hovered shaking over the green button until you finally decided to press it and call the Ferrari driver back. Not even a single beep was heard before he huffed out your name as if he had been yearning for you to finally phone him back.

“Carlos? Is everything okay?” The Spaniard could practically feel your distress through the screen and he swore he’s never felt an urge so strong to punch someone right across their face, let alone his best friend Lando Norris.

It took some time for realization to set in. Your breathing had slowed down but the chills all over your body told that it was a sign far from good. Very far from good.

You could still make out the faint sound of Carlos’ voice as you locked the door of the bathroom stall furthest in the back, however, every word that came after “Lando cheated on you” somehow wasn’t comprehensive to you.

You just hope he’ll still like her in the morning, cause you, for sure, weren’t coming back.

[httpknjoon]

from your point of view | myg

plot | that time bassist!yoongi thinks popstar!yn is not that versatile when performing her songs. (alternative: that time bassist!yoongi made popstar!yn cry— unintentionally!)

w.c | 2476

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff, angst, enemies to lovers

note | thank you to @seolaquotes for sending this one! hope u like it <3

main masterlist | want to request?

DAY 60 of Love Is... On Tour

"Okay, you all can take your breaks. Just come back before three."

As soon as Art concluded the rehearsals, everyone began leaving the arena. The dancers chat while picking up their bags. You were talking with Art about the setlist while you two walked away. Yoongi was just removing the guitar over his head when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Noah found a place with the best beer five minutes away. Do you want to come?" Fred asked while the others waited for his reply.

Yoongi looked at his guitar, scratching the back of his head. "There's something wrong with my guitar. Send me the location, and I'll catch up later."

The other members nodded and said their goodbyes. Alone, Yoongi just sat on the stage floor to tune it. The issue has been bugging him since the rehearsals began, causing him to have errors and delays that made you give him an obvious side-eye in almost every song.

"There it is..." Yoongi whisphered to himself as begun turning the pegs.

Listening carefully to the tune of his guitar, he did not even notice you walking back on the stage. You were planning to rehearse some of your songs alone, so you decided to come back after getting another bottle of water for yourself. You were quietly scrolling down on your phone when you noticed him sitting on a corner of the stage, alone with his guitar. You raised an eyebrow.

"You're still here?" You asked since you saw the others leaving together. Fred even invited her to go with them to the pub near the concert venue.

"Have to tune my guitar." Yoongi replied, not even looking up at you.

It has been a week since that night you two had an intense staring contest. Yoongi really followed what Art told him. He never looked directly at you before, during, and even after the rehearsals again. You don't know if he's a good follower or just sarcastically playing with you. But either way, it's getting to your nerves.

You didn't say anything anymore. Instead, you sat in front of him and stared like you were waiting for him to do something. He stopped for a second.

As soon as he realized that you decided to watch him, he clicked his tongue, "Uhm, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," you replied with a cheeky grin even though he won't look at you. By your coy reply, Yoongi can immediately imagine that you were smiling when you said that.

Your plans of rehearsing alone are now tossed aside and you make it a challenge for yourself to make your least favorite band member meet your eyes. You don't know why, but out of every staff and crew member who works here, Yoongi is the only one you don't really get along with. Was it the ugly first meeting? Or the uglier first impressions that lasted until now? Maybe it is something deeper. Who knows? You don't. But for now, you know that you like getting a reaction out of his usual blank expression.

"So, this is your first world tour?" you asked, internally determined to break him while he's busy.

"Yes," he replied, still turning the pegs in his guitar.

"But you worked with Harry before, right? Why didn't you join his band then?"

When you were looking for a replacement for your past band, Art endorsed Yoongi with the mention that he worked with Harry Styles on his first and second albums. Other than playing for him, he also produced and wrote a few songs with him. But, he didn't join Harry's two-year world tour that just ended months ago. Since Art seemed to really like him, you just agreed to take him for your band and never knew any more about his back story.

"My fiancee didn't want long-distance relationship," he answered like he didn't just say something of a big deal.

Your eyebrows raised, "You're getting married?!"

Instead of an answer, there was a long silence between you two. Suddenly, you feel a strange tension entering the stage. Yet, Yoongi has not laid his eyes on you. Instead, a heavy sigh comes out of his lips.

"Why are you here? It's break time."

You cleared your throat, tucking a hair strand behind your ear, "I wanted to rehearse alone."

"Is me fixing my guitar here will bother your activity?" he asked, looking at your fingers drumming on the ground.

You noticed that and decided to stop your tapping fingers. Testing, you laid your hand to your lap, feeling your cotton sweatpants. His eyes followed.

"Not really." you smirked when his eyes followed your fingers running through your hair. then, you snapped your fingers in front of your face. "Finally!"

"What?" his forehead creased.

"You looked at me. We've been talking for ten minutes and you won't just look at me," you explained.

"I thought you don't want anyone looking at you." he reminded you.

"...Not anyone." you tried correcting him.

It was his turn to smirk when he replied, "If that rule was just for me, then why are you putting too much effort to make me look at you right now?"

It was like your brain stopped for a moment. You cannot process any answer to that. Why do you even like annoying him? Or getting a reaction out of him? Are you that pressed about him? Why do you even want him to look—

"YN, here's the second setlist!"

Art! Thank goodness, Art showed up! You scramble to get up to meet your tour manager who was stepping on the edge of the stage. Cal was behind him since you asked her before to watch your new song choices for later. You see one of her brows raised when she noticed Yoongi on stage. She eyed him and you like she was making up something in her head.

"Oh, Yoongi, you're here?" Art asked him.

He nods, "Yep, had to fix something with this thing."

"Great! YN changed up some of the songs in the setlist. Maybe you can try playing it while she rehearse?" He asked.

You wanted to protest, not wanting to spend more time with him since you blacked out when he confronted you just a minute ago. But before you can even say something, Yoongi already nodded his head and began strumming his now-fixed guitar.

"Sure."

You had three songs changed in your setlist. It's not unusual as you always do it almost every week, wanting to surprise your fans every once in a while. For tonight, you put your famous less energentic love songs on the list.

"Is that okay?" you asked after singing the last one.

Art nods, giving you a thumbs up. Cal agreed even though it looked like she hesitated for a second. Since Yoongi is in the room too, you looked at him for any comments.

"I don't know. It kinda feels like you are zoning out when you're performing your less lively songs." He shrugged, removing his guitar on his lap and placing on its stand.

"Excuse me?" Your nostrils flared, Yoongi noticed.

"Like for instance, POV. The song is beautiful, the lyrics is really sincere. But I cannot feel anything from you every time you sing it." He explained. "It's like you were just trying to get over it so you can move on to your next songs."

Your throat tightened like it's hard to speak. Was he wrong? He's not. And you hate it. When you are singing the songs you wrote based on a relationship that eventually ended with infidelity, of course, you will find yourself dissociating. Most of your love songs were written about Theo, your ex-boyfriend -slash-ex-bassist, and everyone knows it. As much as you love those songs, you hate who it was associated with and sometimes you just want to space out rather than think of him while singing it.

You hate that Yoongi sees right through you.

You placed a hand on your hip. "And what do you know about performing?"

"You know that I'm a producer too, right?"

A lopsided smile was on his face when he said that. Hating how nonchalant he was, you rolled your eyes.

"Anyway, I'll go. I'll catch up with the others at the pub," he said, not even giving you a chance to bite back.

Out of curiosity, while you were still in your free time hours before the concert, you began looking up your performances online. You don't really watch a lot of videos of yourself online since you feel too vain in doing so. Plus, being a perfectionist, you will just end up pointing out the things you should have and have not done while watching those clips.

But you needed to confirm your bass guitarist's comments about you. So, you downloaded TikTok and opened your burner account. You quickly typed in your name on the search bar and scrolled down to find videos of you from your current tour. That is how you came across a compilation made by your fan, titled:

✨YN dissociating for three minutes straight✨

What the fuck?!

"Was it really that obvious when I'm singing those songs?" You asked, looking at Cal through the mirror.

It's been a couple of hours since you watched those videos. You are now sat in the make-up chair, wearing your bedazzled bodysuit, prepping up to perform in a few minutes.

"What?" Cal asked since she was busy fixing up your schedule for the next few days.

"That I'm spacing out?" you spoke quietly before chewing on your lips.

Your assistant noticed you being affected by what Yoongi said since he left for the pub. She saw you watching videos online, which she thought added more self-doubt. But she knew that you always wanted real and honest answers.

"In all honesty, honey, there are times I feel like you were slipping out."

You nodded at that, appreciating her honest comment.

"Faye?" You called your hair and makeup artist's attention, asking for her opinion.

She nods, agreeing with Cal, but you can read the sympathy in her eyes, "But your voice is great—"

"It's just the emotions, it's gone." you ended the sentence for her.

You looked down while your assistant and HMUA looked at each other. Maybe you really need to tap into those emotions again. It wouldn't be that bad, right?

"It's like you got superpowers, turn my minutes into hours..."

Yoongi watched from the band's spot on stage as you performed the song he criticized earlier. Thinking about that make his stomach sinks. He wondered if he said too much. You avoided eye contact with him when they returned for the last rehearsal earlier when they got back from the pub. You spoke quietly and was sighing a lot like you were frustrated. The guilt sits heavily on his chest.

"You know me better than I do, can't seem to keep nothing from you..."

Now in a sparkly, silver long gown, Yoongi's comments replayed in your head. You want to prove him wrong, so you begin looking back at the time you wrote the song. You let your fingers play with the mic stand in front of you while you sing.

"I wanna love me, the way that you love me..."

There he is. Theo. His face flashed in your head and everything you've done together in the last four years. Suddenly, you were transported at the time you two were alone in the studio. He was sleeping on the couch because you promised you two would go home after writing one more song.

"I wanna trust me, the way that you trust me..."

You were sparkling while your fans turned on their camera flashes. Yoongi observed you. Tonight was definitely different. Your voice felt fragile, like you were about to break at any moment.

"You love my lips 'cause they say the things we've always been afraid of..."

A knot tightens in your throat. You held on to the stand before you, trying to find stability. You felt your heart beating faster while reliving the good times of your past relationship. Then, you remember the first headline you read the day you decided to end it all.

"I couldn't believe it or see it for myself. Boy, I be impatient, but now I'm out here..."

Your voice shakes. The whole arena was quiet but the shared sympathy for you was obvious. Everyone knows how your relationship went as the break-up was highly publicized during the first week of your tour. Yoongi watched you remove your mic from the stand and begin sitting in the middle of center stage with the spotlight focused on you.

"And if my eyes deceive me, won't let them stray too far away..."

The song originally don't have any bass guitar in it, but you were losing it. So you turned your head down, letting the tears fall down. Yoongi notoced you raising your fingers. You rubbed your thumb and index finger together before drawing two checkmarks like you're strumming a guitar.

He instantly picked up and began playing his guitar, in tune with the instrumental of the emotional song. Earlier, you asked to put a short instrumental between the bridge and the last chorus since you wanted to enjoy the surprise song. The fans cheered as the bass guitar added a new vibe to the emotional song.

"I wanna love me, the way that you love me..."

The fans began singing back to you. You close your eyes, and a small smile forms on your lips. Your ears are filled with their voices. Everyone watched as you softly swayed to the song. You even removed your in-ear to hear their singing fully. Your heart slowly warms up, sending peace into your system.

"I wanna trust me, the way that you trust me, baby..."

You began singing again, walking on each corner of the stage to be closer to your fans. You point to them before putting the same hand on your chest as you continue,

"'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do, I'd love to see me from your point of view..."

The next day. It was only two-thirty in the morning and you were getting ready to leave your hotel room to leave for another state, when you heard a couple of knocks on your door.

"Just come in, Cal!" you said.

But you didn't hear the door open. So, you got up from your bed and opened it yourself. That's when you spotted a Milwaukee souvenir notebook on the carpeted ground. You picked it up when you saw a written note on paper taped on its cover.

sorry, didn't mean to make you cry. write more beautiful songs of urs.

ps. can't find any other notebooks here in the hotel. sorry 4 that 2

note | holiday themed drabbles coming up soon

SERIES TAGLIST

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[kawaiijohn]

Help a queer family of disabled nerds

Hey my name is Dante, I live in the Midwest with three of my best friends. We have four cats, one of which is my babyman whom I love very dearly.

His name is Latke Library Card Mango (LLCM). He's very orange and he's the light of my boyfriend, Kris, and I's life.

Cat pics are great right? Have a few.

A few months ago, latkes chronic bladder stones condition acted up which resulted in two emergency vet visits and a week long stay with his actual vet to get the stone removed.

It was the size of a chickpea.

Here's a photo of his post surgery when he had a nakie tummy. He was very very happy to see us.

He's since recovered, but the cost of this put us back around 1300 dollars in total. He's now on a special diet with rather pricey food to prevent this from happening but it might still act up eventually.

We've paid down some of his debt, but the interest is making it become more and more as we try to pay it down.

On top of this, our pipes backed up into our basement and refused to work suddenly a few weeks ago. We live in a house that is over a century old, and the clay pipes keep getting roots growing into them that causes them to not drain.

The roto had to come out and high pressure the roots out to clear them (which required expensive equipment), This put us back another grand.

To add to everything, our 700+ auto insurance bill is due in November, which is the worst time for this bill to need due, but both myself and Kris drive over ten miles to work during different shifts on opposite ends of town- neither of our jobs have public transit anywhere near them.

We are currently barely making ends meet-

I am a lunch lady at a public high school. I love my job. I feed kids who possibly don't even eat at home some days. I do work I am proud of.

However, I can only work around 25 hours a week without risking losing my insurance as a disabled person. My job does not have longer hour positions available, and I am too disabled to work more than this without ruining my body like I have done in the past.

I have been going without buying groceries out of fear that what little money I have in my account will be needed in an emergency. I will be out of work for a week this month, around Thanksgiving, and during Xmas break- unpaid due to me working in a school. Me being out also means no guaranteed meal every day.

Kris works in a factory. He is currently working 55+ hours a week to make what we can to pay off the bills and keep our house. He only has one and a half knees that hurt all the damn time and is barely eating either just to afford everything. His factory keeps calling for sudden shutdown weeks with little notice at the worst times, and he's the main breadwinner in the house for us.

The other two in our household, one is severely disabled and can barely work 10 hr/week (he is waiting on hearing back to receive SSI) on top of having multiple medical appointments a week to figure out what is wrong with his body and why it keeps failing. The other is a freelance artist who is working her butt off to make money while carting the previous to appointments nearly every day. She is full up on commissions at the moment, but when she opens them I'll reblog her posts.

I really didn't want to make this post. I hate asking for help. But we are drowning and there's no sign of land. None of us can afford to live on our own, nor can we move back in with our parents for various reasons.

All I'm asking for is some help. I don't care how much. Five dollars is five dollars. Five dollars is half an hour less we have to kill ourselves to make ends meet.

Even if we don't make the full amount, every dollar will help us get a bit closer to paying this stuff down so we can afford gas and regular grocery trips again instead of having to save up to go once a month like we are currently doing.

Our goal is 2000 dollars.

Yes, this is the high amount. I do not believe we will ever reach it. I can hope we can raise this much at some point.

But for now that's the dream number.

It's the number that is looming over our heads, telling us to pay up or lose our home.

It's not something we need this very moment, but just what we need in the next few months to be able to afford living without destroying our body or working three jobs/ridiculous hours.

We thank anyone who can spare a few bucks to help us, and if you can't afford it just pass this post along to someone who might be able to.

Please send as friend/family if you can, PayPal is threatening to withhold money sent as transactions now if you receive over a certain amount.

This includes sending things through my ko-fi account- so here's the preferred methods:

Progress:

388.74/2,000

Thank you for reading. I love you.

[coucouatoi]

now you're in my life... | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: sexual tension, slutshaming, women being viewed as wives and baby makers only (not by Harry), fluff, Harry being a gentleman, implied age gap, smut

A/N: Bridgerton fic incoming!! I'm late to the Bridgerton party but I've finally rewatched it all... also didn't reread a 7th time so if u find any errors, sorry <3

the bridgerton collection

Summary:

Dearest Gentle Readers, remember that a Bridgerton Courting season is never complete without some juicy drama. Here's some tips to stay... out of trouble:

1- Don't attempt to stand out

2- Don't even try to become the Diamond

3- Don't get caught with Londons most sought after bachelor in a compromising position

Good luck readers!

Lady Whistledown

Travel is exhausting. It always is.

Travelling with the end goal being dancing, presenting yourself, being courted and then wed is excruciating.

Your mother, bless her, is more excited than you've ever seen her. The carriage is already quite cramped with you, her and your younger brother squeezed tightly against each other. Her legs bounce constantly, her fan is flapping like she wants it to break in half and the lessons. Oh god, the lessons. A second of silence is too long. You have to be bombarded with rules and tips to make you the perfect debutante this new season.

Your brother, however, is barely spoken to. He is not going to be presented to the ton until a few more years have passed. The conversations seem to bore him. Bore him so much that he has seemingly slept through the entire trip... or at least pretended to.

Your trip to London is quite long. You have taken a boat and ridden so many carriages your behind has most likely become flatter. Today is the last day of travel thankfully. You'll be arriving at your family's English estate soon enough, your father is probably already waiting in the steps most likely impatiently tapping his foot.

He and your mother are still obsessively in love with each other. Married three weeks after courting during their first-ever year as debutants. First child, you, nine months later... after that things slowed down. It took them twelve years to have another child and now, six years later, she's gotten pregnant again. Their grand finale as they keep calling it.

You can only wish that you'll be able to find someone who makes you feel even just a smidge as happy as your parents make each other. That there's someone here, in London, who will make a worthy husband and an even more worthy father.

Your mother's squeal startles you out of your thoughts as you turn into the estate. She must have spotted your father.

The time has come, you must now be the best future bride possible for all the men in the Bridgerton ton to run after.

-

You feel absolutely ridiculous. Who allowed this to be the standard for debutantes?? A feather tucked into your neatly styled hair but not just any kind of feather it's not small or dainty, no. It's tall. Taller than most things in the room. On your tiptoes, you could reach some of the lower ceilings with it. The dress is fine, the gloves are only a little itchy and the shoes are actually quite pretty. But that damn feather...

"Are you sure I can't just accidentally set it on fire?" you grumble to your mother who is your sponsor for your official debut this season.

"That would certainly bring attention to you... I'll entertain the thought" she quips with a small smile.

"I look ridiculous with it! What's the point of looking like an ostrich? Is that what English men find desirable?" you're incredibly confused. This can't possibly be something that attracts suitors...

"The Queen demands it, my dear", she rubs your arm reassuringly, "We don't want to upset her"

You shrug in defeat. Your mother is right, no one would dare go against the queen. Especially when you are to be presented in her court.

The two women in front of you are escorted into the ballroom as their names are called. The doors close as the debutante bows to the Queen.

This is it. You're next. You're going to walk in front of the entire ton as fresh meat. Someone they don't know.

Your father owns an estate here but you've only been to London twice before this. Never enough time to make friends or make any kind of impression. Hopefully, they don't eat you alive.

Your mother fusses over the sleeves of your dress. Then she tugs your gloves up, making them pull uncomfortably at the webbing between each of your fingers. You let her fix anything that she deems askew or not perfect enough. It's the nerves making her twitchy. As the doors open in front of you she pushes the feathers you wear deeper into your up-do.

"Y/N L/N and her mother Lady L/N" Your mother locks your elbow with hers as you walk forward.

The room is littered with people, London's finest and richest gathered to see what fresh meat this courting season brings.

The other debutantes are lined next to each other facing the door, their mothers or older sisters behind them peering over shoulders.

Once your eyes lay on the queen you suck in the breath you were about to take. She sits on her throne like she was born to be on it. Her head held high but her eyes inquisitive. She eyes you up and down, more than once, it makes you stand up straighter. You want her to like you, get her and the rest of the ton curious.

Your mother lets go of you as you get closer to the Queen. The last steps you take are the most nerve-wracking ones you've ever taken. All eyes are on you; men, women, debutantes, the queen's harem, potential prospects.... Everyone.

You bow to her, deeply. Your right leg goes behind your left, you bend your knees and your head tucks down towards your chest. You stay like that, it's only polite to stay low as long as you can but when your foot starts feeling numb you stand back up.

She's in front of you. Eyes locked on your face, she examines it as a smirk forms on her face. The Queen approves of you.

"My diamond, make me proud" She taps your cheek once, twice, thrice before kissing your forehead and nodding her head as she makes her way back to her throne.

What does she mean by Diamond?

-

As soon as you enter the Bridgerton ball with your family you're swarmed. It's as if you're the newly set dessert table.

Potential suitors waving pens in your face begging for a spot on your dance card.

Is this what being the Diamond is all about?

Being chased around like you're nothing more than a cheap prize to these men? That's probably what you are to them...

You fill out two dance spots at random before managing to wiggle your way through the crowd and into the actual festivities.

The ballroom is enchanting, with flowers of every kind scattered all around the room. You feel like you've stepped into an indoor garden, everywhere you look there's at least one blooming plant. It's gorgeous. You want to stay in this room forever.

The dance floor is currently occupied by couples, waltzing around each other, the choreography running through their veins as if they were born knowing them.

It's all so hypnotizing. The dances, music, seeing the ton gossip so proudly, the men trying to woo this season's debutantes and the women batting their lashes waiting for someone to walk up. It's a game, all of it and you love being a witness. Well, a player now...

"They have a buffet!" Your little brother exclaims as he runs through the crown and straight for a table littered with a large array of foods. He's going to be distracted there for at least 2 whole dances. You have the next dance clear for now so you take the time to wander around, head held high as you take everything in. Your mother had fused incessantly over how you should act tonight and over your chosen outfit. It had to be:

- Fit for a diamond (whatever that may be)

- Have flowers, by order of the Queen

- Unique enough to attract attention

- Modest but not prudish

Complicated demands under the time restraints you had but she made it work. Calling upon her best modiste contacts and personally seeing to the design of them. You have to admit she has done quite the selection for you this evening.

Your gown is a light green, sage might it be? There's a thin layer of darker tule over the bottom half and your sleeves, giving it dimension. The area that goes around your bust and upper back is lighter and full of gemstones shaped like different flowers. It looks like the modiste managed to sew an entire bouquet into the fabric. The gloves are sage as well, going past your elbows and trimmed with the same darker tule. Your mother had a spare ribbon of the sage silky fabric saved for your hair. It's styled into the updo, weaving itself perfectly between the colours of your neatly styled hair. Smaller gemstones have also been placed precariously to make sure you shine as bright as any diamond should.

They've done an excellent job at making you look like a walking dream. Tempting, gorgeous and almost unattainable.

The song that is playing is about to end, which means you're about to have your first dance of the evening. You can't even recall with whom you had simply grabbed a random pen and wrote the colour of his jacket. Too many names had been screamed at you for you to decipher which was his. Hopefully, whoever occupies your first spot manages to find you and whisk you away to the dance floor.

As the couples either leave the dance floor or get ready for the next song, you look around somewhat panicked. Is your first slot not even going to find you? That would be slightly humiliating...

"Lady L/N" you turn swiftly toward the voice behind you. "I'm Lord Talag, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance" Lord Talag takes your hand and presses his lips to the back of it. His suit is blue with silver stitching, your very first slot. He leads you to the dance floor and you both take the first positions for the waltz. The violins start first and you're instantly moving.

Arms gracefully twirling over your head as you spin backwards. As you turn you can't focus on Lord Talag but you know he's doing the same thing. When you stop your turns and face your partner, you see that he's fallen. On his ass, on the floor, in front of everyone. The other couples around you stop abruptly to not trip over him.

"My Lord! Are you alright?" you gasp reaching out to help him stand. However, he ignores your attempts to aid him back on his feet and dusts himself off.

"Good evening, Lady L/N," he says and rushes out of the room. He resembles a kitten running to beg their owner for a treat: legs kicking quickly, bum shimming from side to side, a determined expression...

You're left standing in the middle of the dance floor as everyone looks at you with a confused expression. Your own must look quite similar to theirs. Your first dance partner for the evening has walked out on you. All because he fell on his ass. Men, am I right??

Taking a breather after the embarrassing moment Lord Talag put you through is essential. You can't possibly face the ton as they gossip about it. His chances of finding a bride now are squashed, he's the laughingstock of this courting season. Well, for now at least...

The midnight air is crisp. The cold air prickles at your skin causing goosebumps but you enjoy it, your skin had heated up under everyone's stares. There's no wind, no sound (besides the muffled voices inside) and only a slight orange hue glows around you on the balcony. There are some oranges perched around you and over your head. They aren't quite ripe yet but they do look particularly inviting.

You turn to rest your bum against the marble railing, lifting your head towards the sky. The stars are bright. Brighter than you would have imagined to see in the city. They reflect over the artificial pond under you, seemingly dancing on the ripples. It's all so peaceful.

"Don't you think it's a little cold to be out here without a coat?" the deep voice has you jumping out of your skin. You turn around abruptly to see who's sharing the balcony with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was already here" you bow politely already stepping towards the door. You're not about to have two incredibly embarrassing moments in one evening. Would the Queen be tempted to take away your 'Diamond' status?

"There's no need to leave!" He rushes towards you, his right arm extended towards the door and body facing you. You back up quickly not wanting to make any accidental contact. You're unchaperoned in a private setting with a man... Please let no one come outside!

"I'm sorry if I startled you. I just realized you were holding onto yourself quite tightly... as if trying to heat up" he adds moving away from you as he stands up straight again. He must have realized how compromising this could seem.

"Oh! No, I'm actually comfortable... I'm just overthinking" you clarify for the mysterious, albeit handsome, man. You don't want him offering his jacket or anything of the sort. That would look even worse.

"Ah, I see. These types of events always bring out the worst in people" he laughs dryly as he shakes his head. It's almost as if he's recalling a specific memory. "I'm Harry, Duke Styles if you want specifics"

DUKE??? Your nighttime patio buddy is a DUKE?? This could not look any worse. You have to leave the secluded area now! Before anyone joins you and screams indecency.

Your panic must not be very well concealed as Har- Duke Styles, gets closer to you again with his hands raised.

"I'm not going to bite you, please don't panic" his hands are waiving slowly in front of your face. He's trying to demonstrate that he means no harm but all it does is make you jump back. Your mother would berate you if she knew what was happening right now. "What's your name?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Um, I'm... I'm Lady L/N" You somehow manage to speak in a slow and stuttering manner but it worked.

"The diamond?!" Oh god. He didn't even know. "How do you have time for a breather? Isn't your dance card full?" he sounds completely shocked.

You shake your head rapidly. It's the only answer you're able to give him before the patio door bursts open as a couple attached at the lips tumbles outside. They walk straight into Lord Styles, making his knees give out and then falling straight into you. His hands grasp your waist and arm seemingly trying to get himself straight up on his feet again. He fails. He keeps falling unfortunately dragging you down with him. His left hand, the one holding your arm, quickly moves to the back of your head before it makes contact with the stone floor. The other at your waist stays there but his grip tightens, you can feel it firmly through your corset.

The couple has separated from one another and they are now looking at you both in shock. They were most likely not expecting anyone outside. They are speaking, well you think so. Their lips and arms move erratically but there's only a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The hand on the back of your head tilts it away from them, your eyes meet Lord Styles. They are wide, worried, panicked. You're not sure why.

He's talking too but he must be whispering as the ringing is still the only thing you hear. It's getting annoying; you want to know what he's saying to you. It seems important.

Your vision blurs right before it darkens completely. You've passed out not even knowing of the commotion you've caused.

-

Tule, satin, silk, needles, charcoal drawings on the walls, books scattered on various surfaces... Where have you found yourself now? You seem to be in a study of some sort that also serves as a studio. You manage to sit up slowly, the pounding in your head spiking for a second before it settles.

"Mother?" you call out in a weak voice. How did you get here? Or better yet, who put you in here? No one answers your call so, at a snail's pace, you manage to get into a standing position. Your legs are stronger than you thought they would be, aiding you in your quest to figure out where in the Queen's name you are.

As soon as you leave the study your eyes burn because of the bright sunlight streaming in the hallway you now find yourself in. Blinking a few times makes your eyes adjust quicker making you able to tune into your other senses.

You hear mumbling, a few different voices leak out of the room right next to where you had been sleeping. You try to make out what they saying but nothing makes sense in your mind. You can't even hear them enough to confirm if you know any of the voices.

Not even considering that some may think it rude or even improper you open the door and make your way inside.

Lord Styles is the first on his feet; almost seems like a knee-jerk reaction. His posture is tight, and uncomfortable he is standing straight as a ruler as he looks at you with a terrified expression.

"My darling!" your mother rushes to you as fast as she can with her swollen feet and round stomach slowing her usual pace.

She brushes your hair out of your face before embracing you. She holds you tight but carefully as if to not break you.

"How do you feel?" she asks you once she pulls away.

"Fine, I think. My head hurts quite a bit but it's bearable" You smile at her reassuring as your gaze drifts back to the man still statuesque in the middle of the room. You don't find words to say but you do walk towards him. You don't like seeing him this uncomfortable... especially in what seems to be his estate.

"This is yours? The house?" you ask him gently. His eyes meet yours and the tension seems to bleed out a little. He's a bit more at ease seeing that you are polite and cordial with him.

"Yes, we thought it was best to bring you back here... less scandalous" He gestures to your father and he only nods back as an answer.

"Less scandalous?" you look around the room, at the three people surrounding you with different expressions on their faces. Your mother; excited, your father; thoughtful, Lord Style's; embarrassed?

"Why is your estate less scandalous, Lord Styles?" you meet his eyes, hoping to somehow be able to read his mind. Figure out why he's so closed off now. He did seem pretty willing to talk to you on the pat-

The patio. Oh my. The patio!

"Why am I here Father?" your headache spikes when you turn your head rapidly towards him. His expression tells you all

that you need to know. You're now engaged. There's no scandal because you're going to wed Duke Harry Styles.

"An outdoor wedding would be gorgeous this time of year, don't you think so Y/N?" your father smiles at you kindly. He's happy with the man you've managed to "score", even if it isn't a love match like him and your mother.

You only nod at him before looking back at Lord Styles, whom you find to be already looking in your direction. He meets your gaze and bows his head in a polite gesture, welcoming you. Welcoming you in your new home, into your new life as a Duchess.

The wedding is set to happen in 9 days. The first wedding of this year's courting season. Your mother has been on top of everything, she's practically planning the whole thing. You and Lord Styles, your fiancée, let her do it... after all this was a surprise to both of you.

Today you're choosing your wedding dress. The last dress that you'll wear as the incredibly eligible and sought-after diamond. The dress you'll become a bride and then a wife in. You'll become a duchess, Duchess Styles...

"What do you think of this one, dear?" your mother is holding a white gown with delicate baby pink embroidered flowers all over it. You nod approvingly making your way back behind the changing partition as she brings it over to you. It's only the second one you're trying on so your spirits are still high. Madame Delacroix, the modiste, was much too eager to have you wear one of her gowns on your big day. Said it was "Perfect marketing!" and she led you to her newest collection that was apparently straight from France.

You manage to slide it on with no issues and as you're about to ask the modiste for some help with the clasp in the back you hear a voice you don't recognize say your name. You stay quiet hoping to hear what they are saying.

"You haven't read Lady Whistledown yet?! This one is so juicy, she talks about Duke Styles and the Diamond"

"Please tell me you have a copy of it on you! I need to know how that happened"

Are people really this eager to know how you got engaged?

After the first girl presumably pulls out a copy of whatever they were talking about they start reading it aloud.

"But how could I forget to mention the most surprising moment of the courting season yet? London's own most wanted bachelor, Duke Harry Styles, has found a worthy bride. He does shoot for the stars, doesn't he? Or rather in the mines... as the newest Duchess soon joining the ton is Lady L/N, the Diamond.

However, the choice seems to have been made by herself and herself only. Who wouldn't throw themselves at him just to be caught in a compromising position? I certainly would! Her parents must be so proud to have such a stellar whore seductress presented this season.

The hopefully happy couple already share a house, how warm is the Duke's bed? Has Lady Y/N done what so many other noble women have wanted to do?

Congratulations to the happy couple... See you at the wedding!

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown"

Your blood runs cold, you're frozen in place after hearing what was written about you. You don't even know who these two girls are, who the writer is or where this paper comes from. Is that really what people think of you? That you whored yourself to Duke Styles to secure a wealthy and powerful man? You haven't made a single friend yet and now this is what people are saying about you, how are you meant to live amongst them now?

You quickly undress yourself of the wedding gown and get back into your dress, you somehow manage to clasp it yourself. Before running out of the boutique you hand the dress back to your mother and take a quick look at the girls that were just gossiping.

They are already looking at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Well, at least that's what you think their reaction is to seeing you practically trip out of the shop.

You don't hear what your mother calls out to you, too concerned with the humiliation pumping throw your veins. You need to get back to the Dukes manor as soon as you possibly can. You're grateful to have ridden here separately from your mother so you don't have to leave her stranded with no carriage and very pregnant. The ride back feels never-ending... How can you ever face the ton again?

The bath water is almost boiling, perfect to wash away the shame you felt. Your mind is all over the place. Nothing you can come up with will fix this, you're stuck labelled as some desperate whore. Does your betrothed know who this woman is? What those papers are? If anyone and everyone reads what she writes about other people? The lies she creates to make things interesting... You didn't even manage to find a gown you liked for the wedding... You might now not even be able to face the public, would the Queen allow a private wedding for her diamond? Probably not.

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't know you were back" For the second time today your blood runs cold. The scorching hot water feels icy against your skin as you look up to meet Duke Styles's gaze.

He is also stuck where he is. His feet seemingly glued to the floor, one hand holding the door handle and the other stopped halfway done unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes leave your face and trail down your nude body under the water. No man has ever looked at these parts of you, he isn't supposed to see them until your wedding night.

He swallows when his gaze snaps back to yours, probably just registering what he was doing.

"I'll let you bathe, sorry for interrupting" he turns around quickly but before he can close the door you call out to him.

"Who's Lady Whistledown?" your voice cracks halfway, desperate to get an answer that no worker has answered. Not the chariot driver, not the gardener, not even the maids that helped prepare the bath everyone avoided your question. "Why did she write about me, my lord? About us?"

He takes a few seconds to walk back into the room but eventually comes in and shuts the door.

He sees there is a small stool in the corner of the room, the maid has used it to undo your hairdo when you got in the bath. He grabs it and places it next to the tub, close to where your face is. He sits facing you with one of his arms resting on the edge, trying to look nonchalant.

"Call me Harry, no need for formalities between us" is the first thing he says, you nod as your answer.

Before speaking again he takes in a deep breath and wipes down his face, looking for a way to explain this.

"You read it?" your voice is meek, he saw that she called you a whore. He read that you threw yourself at him to trap him.

"I did. Only because the men at the club told me to" he answers honestly. "I told them that what she wrote was wrong. That yes our marriage was unexpected but not an entrapment"

"Did they believe you?"

"Yes, after I told that I am very satisfied with my future wife. How lucky I am to have such a gorgeous lady share my house, such a smart lady in my life. They wouldn't dare question me or us" his words shock you. You didn't know if he was satisfied with you or your engagement. There hadn't been a conversation about it but you're happy to hear he doesn't resent you.

Harry seems to read your mind and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder after.

"She called me a whore, a seductress. I've never even let a suitor hug me... Much less seduced one" his eyes bore into you. They are enchanting and so inviting. You want him to look at you this way always like you're the only thing he could ever look at so attentively.

"That's what she does... Last season she almost destroyed Lady Eloise Bridgerton... You haven't met her yet but she didn't leave her manor for the rest of the season" his hand is rubbing from shoulder to shoulder, pinky finger grazing the very top of your breasts at each movement. You don't move or break the eye contact it feels good.

"The ton eats her words up but don't waste time thinking about what she thinks, she is a coward saying all of this nonsense anonymously" he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"So there is no Lady Whistledown in the ton? Is it an alias?" your questions stays unanswered but it is obvious that is what he was saying. No one knows who she is or rather who they are.

Harry's hand has travelled lower without you even noticing he's gone past the water and travels from your chest to your stomach. It seems casual and natural like you've done this a million times before.

Silence stretches as you take in the small amount of information about this person who spreads false claims about you and the man currently exploring your body.

He is now going up and down your legs switching legs once in a while. You don't know what he's doing or why he's doing it but it feels so intimate... so good that you don't stop him, you don't want him to.

You will bear his heirs and pleasure him when he wants you to but what he is doing now seems to actually pleasure you. His fingers graze your core and you gasp as the sensation takes you by surprise. This breaks the trance he had been in as he rips his hand away from your body and out of the water then out of the room before you can even get a single word out.

You finished your bath shortly after with your skin still tingling from where Harry had touched you. The ghost of his fingertips exploring places no one has touched not even yourself. You wanted to see how far he'd go, what he would do to you, how he would keep exploring your naked body. Seeking him out feels desperate but you have to know how far he was willing to take you. Was he just as affected by the intimacy? You knock at his chamber door softly praying that he doesn't reject you. "Come in" you hear him speak through the thick wooden door.

You quickly smooth out your sleeping gown before making your way into his chambers. This is the first time you've been in them, the amount of fabric, mannequins and art around the room surprises you. You had previously seen his work room where he designs and creates many different clothes but you had no idea he had more where he rests. You find Lord Styles lying on his large bed with one arm covering his eyes. He hasn't realized that's it you that's walked in yet so you take some time to look over his designs. You see some suits, daywear, and gowns of all kinds but then you stumble upon one that is called "My Bride". You pull it out from under some other sketches. The gown he's drawn is breathtaking, tight bodice detailed with what you think must be lace and gemstones, there's many layers of lace going downwards towards the bottom of the dress giving the impression of a flower that has not yet bloomed. He's added a simple shawl to the sketch which just adds to the elegance of the look.

"Would you make this dress for me?" your voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry startles on the bed, clearly not expecting you, sitting up quickly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking at the paper you are holding.

"I can, if you want me to make it for you I will" he nods looking back up, studying your face.

"I'd like that" you smile "I'm much too ashamed to go back to the modistes anyway..." you put the drawing back down on his desk. At this point, you are only pretending to be looking around his space. Your goal is to make your way to his bed... try to get him to touch you again.

"There's no need for you to be ashamed. They should be ashamed, the ton is over-critical of newcomers" he leans back on his hands the now completely unbuttoned shirt falls off of his torso, revealing it.

"I suppose so... it's still disheartening to think that people think like that about me" you sigh walking towards him again. His eyes don't leave you he seems to be analyzing you, your actions, your body, everything.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he tilts his head in thought, "Threaten anyone who looks at you wrongly? Find this Lady Whistledown and burn her out of existence?"

"You..." Okay, deep breaths, this is when you'll make your move, "You can touch me again... Keep doing what you were doing?" the pitch of your voice is much higher than usual as you finish your suggestion. You avoid meeting his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his reaction.

What you hear isn't an answer but the sound of him moving on his bed, towards you? God, you hope so. You still don't totally understand what his touch made you feel or why it has you craving for more. You don't even really know what "more" means.

"I wouldn't want to ruin you as some say" he guides your head towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes, so intense and inviting.

"Well, they already think you have... I just want you to make me feel good" You don't back down keep your eyes on his.

"Have you ever made yourself feel good?" Harry's voice is deeper than you've ever heard, it sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head as an answer, the ability to speak lost when he placed his hands on your hips. He tugs you forward, bringing you so much closer to him it makes you flush. He hums in understanding, still debating if he should do this or not... but the look on your face, the curiosity and the neediness makes his decision very easy.

He gently pulls you to lay down on his luxurious bed, the silky sheets and soft mattress feel glorious. You could stay in his bed all day long.

"Don't you resent me? I cut your first courting season quite short" he gently pecks your cheek before gliding across your lips to do the same to the other. You unconsciously follow his lips trying to have them meet yours again, you're already in a mental fog of pleasure and he's barely touched you.

"Can't answer, doll? Mh... don't worry I'll make you feel good" That's when he kisses you. Properly.

You let him take complete control as you've never kissed anyone. You don't want to make it unenjoyable for him or yourself so you follow his lead. His hands slowly bunch your nightgown up revealing more and more skin, skin that he is now seeing for the second time. He separates from your lips to look down at you, to admire your figure. Goosebumps spread all over as he delicately rubs his hands up and down your thighs spreading them apart adding him in lying down between them.

His face is inches away from your most private parts. Parts that have never been seen by anyone but your aids when getting dressed or cleaned. To aid him you didn't put any underclothing on, hoping he would accept your request. So, he's staring directly at you, making you flush from embarrassment.

"You want me to do this, gorgeous, you're sure?" your eyes meet his. His expression is unreadable, you've never had someone look at you like that. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"Please Duke Styles" you answer in a soft voice, he smirks at your answer and immediately gets to work.

What you're feeling is something completely new, foreign, unbelievably good; The curl of your toes as his mouth meets the skin you've never even explored yourself, the arch your body does and the loud gasp that slips past your lips. Who knew you could feel this way? Why did no one tell you that you could feel so unbelievably good?

Your hands grab onto the edges of the pillow you're lying on and you try to meet his gaze or maybe just to see what he's doing looks like.

Harry's eyes are already on you, your gazes meet easily, his pupils are dilated and his brows furrowed. He's so concentrated...

His tongue circles your clit sucking at it before letting his free hand join. His middle finger teases your entrance, not wanting to take your purity, he'll be somewhat of a gentleman and keep that for the wedding night.

"Ah! Harry" you moan desperately, desperate for something you don't even know, begging for him to keep going. You have an urge to shut your legs together but Harry's pushes onto your left one, keeping it pinned to the mattress.

The hand that was teasing your hole slowly goes up your nightgown, touching your skin delicately as he works his way up to grab your breast. His hand is warm on your chest, grabbing and massaging the skin he reaches.

He uses your slight distraction to prod his tongue inside of you exploring the few inches he's able to reach. Maybe exploring your inside isn't so bad... You'll be married no matter what happens...

His hand leaves your chest and makes its way back down, circling your bud. He can feel how close you are so he zeroes in. Lost in your pleasure and on his quest to make you feel good. Make you forget about the judgement the ton regards you with. He pinches your clit making your body lock up and your breath hitch but Harry doesn't stop. He keeps going until your whole body is spasming against his mattress until you're unable to make a sound with your mouth agape in pleasure.

You don't feel anything besides the tingling going from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes and the ends of your hair. Your heartbeat slowly stops being so erratic and your breathing calms down. As you start wondering where Harry has gone you feel a damp cloth rubbing against your intimates. You shiver at the feeling, obviously still sensitive, flinching when he gets close to your sensitive bud.

"How do you feel, my lady?" Harry's voice is soft and tender. Probably trying to preserve the warm atmosphere around both of you.

You hum positively as an answer, words lost as you meet his intense gaze.

"Cats got your tongue?" his tone is teasing. He throws the cloth away and joins you on the bed. You shake your head with a smile.

"I'm lost in thought" is the first thing you say to him, "I will be for a while after that" you sigh dreamily as you get comfortable in his sheets.

"Mh, maybe we should rush the wedding, get the Queens blessing for her diamond to wed in a rush... you won't speak a week after what I'll do to you" You just might have to march into the royal palace first thing in the morning.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt.7]

"Fenton, Daniel!"

Tim freezes in his seat. His stomach sinks down what feels like all the way to his toes, and it takes an incredible amount of effort to turn his head towards the High Table, where Deputy Headmistress is holding the Sorting Hat, ready for the next first-year to approach her.

The Great Hall is solemnly quiet - as much as it can be, when there's over a hundred people in here, all eager for a chance to catch up after the summer break. Tim hated it when it was his turn to go up and be the center of attention. All those whispers, and muffled snickers, and studying gazes on him, it's like they made his skin itch.

Danny, on a stark contrast, seems to be completely at ease with that, though. He walks up to the front and climbs on the wooden stool with little grace, but he is smiling. He even winks at someone at the Gryffindor table, getting a few chuckles from all around the Hall for his cheeky behavior.

Tim can't take his eyes off him.

He is taller now, which is unsurprising given that it's been more than two years since they've last seen each other. His hair is short, even if it's still a mess on top of his head. But, what's more, he looks.... less round, if that makes sense. His chin is sharper than before, kind of like Mr. Masters'. And the black, unmarked yet robes of the school uniform hang from his shoulders like he's a coat rack and not a human.

The stern woman that greeted them all at the entrance - Professor McGonagall, as she introduced herself - carefully drops the Hat over Danny's head. It tips down, covering the boy's eyes, and-

Tim slowly releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

It doesn't help the tight, suffocating knot of guilt in his stomach, but at least he is breathing again, so that's good.

How do you forget about a whole ass person?! Because that's exactly what Tim did, he forgot, like Danny's entire existence completely slipped his mind. Which is absolutely mad, and Tim really, really wants to run up and apologize, even if he is not sure what exactly for.

On a second thought, he thinks he knows how, to be honest.

Breaking his leg a week after his ninth birthday, as it turned out, also broke his whole life into 'before' and 'after', and the 'after' was a thousand times more interesting than 'before'. Wayne manor was nothing like his home, no empty halls and cold white curtains, no silence filling his life, no boring, identical days spent in the library. Instead, there was a kitchen where Alfred - who refused to be addressed as Mr. Pennyworth quite insistently - kept bickering with the house elves, and the polished dark railings of the grand staircase that were very fun to slide down, and racing Dick through the hallways, or, sometimes, flying with him above the manor grounds. There was Jason, who read books just for the fun of it and not because he wanted to learn something useful specifically - makes sense for him to be a Ravenclaw - and Bruce, who pouted like a kid every time Tim called him Mr. Wayne, and the portraits of Wayne ancestors who all had an opinion on everything, and three owls, and a secret passageway in the drawing room, and a grumpy ghost in the attic, and Ace, and-

Just everything 'after' was loads better than 'before'.

Which doesn't really excuse Tim from forgetting a person. If anything, it kind of makes him feel even more guilty. Because Danny, even if he was from 'before', was still amazing, and Tim should have... done something. He is not sure what, but definitely not just forget about him.

There are whispers breaking out in the Hall now, Tim notices. It's been almost a minute already, and the Sorting Hat still has not announced a House for Danny, instead grimacing and scrunching its wrinkled face. Which is not that odd if Professor McGonagall's calm face is to prove it, but it hasn't taken its time with anyone else yet.

Someone nudges Tim with an elbow from his left, and when he turns, there's a bulky boy with a crooked, unpleasantly toothy smile, looking at him.

"Your friend?" He asks, and it takes Tim a moment to actually think about the answer. Is he?..

However, before he gets to come to any answer at all, the Hat finally speaks, "HUFFLEPUFF!" And Tim promptly shuts his mouth. No matter his personal opinion on Danny, it's considered uncouth for a Slytherin to be friends with a Hufflepuff. A Ravenclaw friend is acceptable, but the only thing worse than a badger is a lion.

So, at least for now, Tim gives the only answer that is expected of him. Meaning, he winces and huffs, "I'd rather eat a slug," and turns away to watch the table full of black and yellow and laughs and smiles cheer for their new arrival as Deputy Headmistress calls for one Foley, Tucker.

He is still the Heir to Drake family, meaning that even as a first-year in Hogwarts, he needs to keep up with his reputation. Besides, to be fair, he is not even sure if his answer would have been 'yes'. Or if it could have been 'yes' because, in order to figure that out, he'd need to talk to Danny first, and that's-

Well.

Maybe he should think about it later.

Tucker Foley gets to join the Ravenclaw table, and then there are Valerie Gray, Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan all going into Gryffindor in a row, which is met with roaring applause that gets louder and louder with every new arrival. It kind of makes Tim's head hurt a little.

But, just as he is about to turn back around - it can't hurt to get to know his housemates as soon as possible - he catches a glimpse of another familiar face and stops short.

She is not wearing pink anymore, and, just like Danny, her face looks a lot sharper now, but he would recognize that violently violet glare anywhere.

"Manson, Samantha," Sure enough, Professor McGonagall calls next, and the Hat takes less than a split second on her head to pronounce her a Slytherin. Tim's housemates clap and cheer their welcome, but Sam's gaze is all but zeroed on Tim for the whole time, and it kind of makes him want to shrink down and hide under the table.

"Long time no see, Drake," she drawls as soon as she sits down at his side. Then, just when Tim is opening his mouth to answer, she adds, "Or, should I say, Drake-Wayne?"

"You'd know how to address me, Manson, if you cared to listen when the names were called," he snaps without even thinking, "Other names than yours, that is."

It's not that he is ashamed of associating with Waynes or anything. He is actually rather proud of it. What irritates him is the obvious distaste that the girl shows at him, and the fact that he is not sure if it's because he is, although unofficially, one of the Waynes, or because she is craving some kind of revenge after he ignored Danny, or because of something else entirely.

"I don't pay attention to things that hold no importance," Manson brushes him off with a scoff, her chin held high.

Yeah, okay, he really does need to talk to Danny. Because he likes Danny, or at least because he liked him when he was seven, and because Danny is the only nice person in their year that Tim knows.

And because he also knows that he still absolutely doesn't like Samantha Manson, and he just might be friends with a Hufflepuff in order to spite her.

—☆—☆—☆—

We all know how the Great Hall looks, but hey, making an aesthetic is a tradition now:

Tim, Danny, and Sam:

[Picrew]

Jazz (Gryffindor, fourth-year), Jason (Ravenclaw, fourth-year), and Dick (Gryffindor, seventh-year):

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

Notes that turned into rambling and got long again:

A month or so later, Tim makes the mistake of calling Sam 'violent violet' out loud, in the presence of other Slytherins. It sticks with her for the rest of her Hogwarts years. She doesn't like it at first, mostly because she doesn't like Tim and he was the first one to call her so, but she later grows fond of the nickname.

If you didn't catch that by the names mentioned, this is set in 1989, two years before Harry Potter shows up in Hogwarts. So, other first-years of importance that went unmentioned in text were Weasley twins, Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington, and Stephanie Brown, who is a Hufflepuff now, by the way. I considered putting her in Gryffindor (because, admittedly, she is very brave), but decided against it because in my head, her first and foremost character trait is loyalty to her own beliefs.

While Hufflepuffs are usually portrayed as kind and timid, I believe that what this House values most is a strong will and the desire to do what is fair and just. Hufflepuffs set a goal and reach it even when the world is against them, fight for it even when their hands bleed. Hufflepuffs stand up when they are knocked down, no matter how many times they have to. If Gryffindor is fire, Slytherin is water, and Ravenclaw is air, then Hufflepuff is earth. It's a mountain, a stone, a power that you don't pay attention to most times. You don't notice how hard the ground you're standing on is until you try digging it with your bare hands.

Steph might not be your 'traditional Hufflepuff', but she is hell-bent on getting her way.

Also, I think it's funny to have her and Danny in the same House. Also also, I think it's even funnier to have Steph bemoaning how her House colors are absolutely clashing with her regular clothes and acessories, which are all shades of purple.

By the way, that guy who asked Tim if Danny is his friend was Marcus Flint.

[<- part 6 | part 8 ->]

[maybellewriting]

The Bird and The Arrow - Part 2

The Bird and The Arrow | Viltrumite Mark x AFAB! Reader/Previous Viltrumite Mark x Viltrumite! Reader Explored WARNINGS: Canon levels of gore and violence, Viltrumite! Reader death, character death, OC death, angst, and grief. If I missed anything, I apologize.

Word Count: 2700+ words

He recognizes the sterile white halls behind his lids as he dreams. Mark used to fight it. Sleeping, that is. He learned long ago that fighting the Empire was futile, and becoming Grand Regent was so far away from his grasp that he had better luck harnessing a star with his bare hands. Viltrum lacked personality. The first pops of color in his life were pictures that Debbie had been allowed to keep. He saw the light in her eyes, how her smile made the corners of them crinkle as she clung to his father’s arm. Nolan seemed happy in those pictures, too, oddly enough. Even if he hadn’t admitted it.

The second pop of color was you. It wasn’t what you wore, like his mother’s old outfits, but how you carried yourself. There were three children that trained under the watchful eye of Kregg. Mark, Anver, and you. Anver was big for his age, even as a child, looking a few years older despite the three of you being born within the last year of each other. He’d gotten his powers nearly at birth while the two of you were delayed until you were nearly five.

Mark thinks it’s why the two of you grew close. You both looked enviously at Anver as he entered the gravity chamber before running laps as Kregg instructed as if your lives depended on it. Because they did. Mark remembers that this is where he learned to push himself. If he felt tired? He ran a bit further, attempting to be faster than yesterday, with your footfalls right behind his own. His face was indifferent when Kregg logged his progress but worry always prickled in the back of his mind. Had he been good enough?

He doesn’t know where your “illness” stems from at first. It’s what he assumes is wrong with you as you both greedily drink water. You hand him a flask before you take one most of the time unless you pushed yourself too hard and needed a drink. Kregg noted that as well. Mark knew it.

His hands shift from holding a flask as the scene changes. Mark’s palms are sweaty as he’s crumpled in the gravity chamber. The weight pushes on every muscle in his body. You aren’t doing any better with your first week. Your youthful, pudgy cheeks are red as you puff out a few breaths, struggling to even steady yourself on your hands and knees. You just want to lay flat. He does too. However, seeing Anver making slow laps around the chamber, being pushed on by the sight of how weak the two of you look? It makes Mark mirror you, bracing his body on his hands and knees despite the sweat that drips from his brow and hair, wetting the floor beneath him. “Do it, Mark.” He can still hear you gritting it out as clear as day. Your voice, as small as his own had been, trembled with the gravity three times as strong as Earth trying to push you into the floor. There’s a connection between you both as he offers a barely there nod. One. You and he prop yourselves up on one knee. Two. He feels as if his body is going to crumple as you both work up into a squat. Three. He straightens. Your gaze meets his. You smile with your triumph and he very nearly does the same. You walk like a newborn deer in the mud over to Anver who can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Mark’s sight breaks from you to the mirror that he knows Kregg and potentially his father stand behind, out of sight as his own reddened face stares back. He’s Mark Grayson, Nolan’s son, and you both accomplished what it took Anver three years to do in one week at a mere five years old. He hopes Kregg notes that too.

Mark blinks in the face of a different mirror. The one in the washroom, still dressed in combat gear. He can see as you kick your feet on the bench idly, waiting for him to finish cleaning up his face. You’d bruised his cheek pretty good now that your group had been instructed to fight each other in one-on-one combat. The trio were five years older, after all. It was as expected as breathing. He got you today, tomorrow he’d fight Anver, and then the winner would fight you the next day.

The sight of your swollen lip catches his eye. He’d knocked out one of your teeth before you forfeited. Something gnaws at him. Guilt? He walks over and moves to dab your lip with a cold washcloth, catching how your tongue smoothed over and played with the new gap between your teeth. The words sound ridiculous before he even says them. He doesn’t even know why he says them. “My mom told me about a tooth fairy when I lost my first tooth.”

There isn’t quite childlike wonder in your eyes as he continues to dab at your bloodied lip. It leaned more towards confusion and curiosity as you let Mark fuss over you. “What’s a fairy?”

“I don’t know. A little creature with wings? She tried drawing me a picture.”

“It needs wings t’ fly? Sounds dumb.” You say simply. “Think it’d make a cool pet?”

“Apparently it only visits when you sleep to collect your teeth.”

This earned a huff from you. “If I can’t play with it, what good is a fairy?”He shrugs. His mind went down the same path as yours when his mom attempted to impart the wonder of the tooth fairy. It was one of the few times that sparked life in her since she’d been brought to Viltrum. Mark had slept, pretended not to wake up when his mother’s hand snuck under his pillow, and left one of his favorite snacks wrapped up neatly for when he awoke. He indulged her and said that such a thing was ‘neat’. It was high praise coming from him. He collected his discarded teeth for her often afterwards so she’d get that same joy.

The scene shifts as he blinks. It’s the same washroom but you’ve both grown into strong, young adults. It’s likely going to be the last time you both walk into here with The Moon Trial coming up. His mind is far away as you both peel off your gear and change into more comfortable uniforms. Mark didn’t think that the sight of your bare back would be so burned into his mind and yet, sometimes, that’s all he sees when he sleeps. Strong muscles and soft curves that are oh so different from his own lithe frame. He wasn’t as big as Anver or Nolan, but he was quick, and Kregg had him lean into that strength.

He hums as he can feel your eyes on his face. When did you turn around? “Hm?”“I just noticed that you shaved your mustache! Did Anver rip some out?” You admire the youthfulness that it gives back to his face. It was certainly an odd sight: A young Viltrum man without a mustache when this is typically the time that they try to find a style that suits them.

He mirrors you, wiping the sweat from his now clean-shaven face with a cloth. Mark is slow to respond. His mother hadn’t really looked at his face since his facial hair had begun to fill out. He remembered Debbie sobbing in the bathroom after learning about Mark’s impending trial. It was one of the few places in the house that she wouldn’t be bothered. She’d nearly jumped out of her skin when she’d opened the door to see him standing outside stoic and awkward. “Mark!” Debbie had exclaimed with a hand over her heart. She’d glanced at his face briefly before looking beyond him to the wall just past his head. “Sorry. You startled me. You looked like your father. How about I make dinner, hm?” It was an easy excuse to brush past him.

It was then that Mark made a decision. He wouldn’t look like his father. Not when his mother looked at him like that. As if his coming of age was going to upheave her life again. Or worse. “Yeah.” Mark lied. It was smoother than he’d like. “I wanted a clean slate for it to grow back again.”Your gaze meets his when he tosses his towel in a bin. He couldn’t quite read the smile you had then. It was different from your grins of triumph or the one that looked as though you were baring your teeth when you were fighting and determined to win. Even the soft one that seemed to come to you so casually. One corner of your mouth curved upwards in a smirk as you floated a bit aimlessly. “It’s a good look for you.” Mark had realized too little too late that he’d been an idiot. You’d fancied him and it never really sunk in until you were gone.

The confusing twists in his belly suddenly drop like lead when the white of the washroom morphs into the pitch black of space staring at him from the outside of the dome. He’s sweating, he’s bloody, and he doesn’t want to look down. As if the fabric of space would tear open and give Mark a different answer. As if the rules of The Moon Trial would change. He knows he’s going to look down and see Anver after the both of you had teamed up to kill him. He knows that beside Anver, there will be you. He can hear you wheeze through a punctured lung. His dream doesn’t grant him the mercy of seeing you as beautiful as you were before. Mark sees you for how you were in the moment: Bloody, bruised beyond recognition, and faltering as you curl in on yourself from the pain of having your arm mangled. Anver had nearly ripped your forearm off. Mark was bruised. He’s sure his ribs are broken and so is his nose. He’d spat out some teeth earlier, so he’s sure that he hardly looks better. But you look so pitiful. As if you’d expected to die in your brawl with Anver before Mark found you. Would he have felt less lost if he had been your avenger? “Do what you need to do.” Mark has always had trouble pinpointing what he’s felt, but he’s sure that he hated this. If he wasn’t the quick one? Anver would have grabbed him instead. Mark has played this day in his head over and over again. If he hadn’t gotten lost, if he’d gone right that day, would you have won instead of him? If he’d found you at the start and you both looked formidable in your battle, would your observers outside of the dome have bent the rules and let the both of you live? Instead, Mark grips the collar of your uniform as he did then. His fingers are straight as he cocks his arm back. All of this seemed predetermined. As if his arm were an arrow and the Empire was pulling it back against the string that was heavy with dutifully culling the weak. He’s surprised how soft your sternum was as it gave way to his jab. Mark is there, motionless. He’d gone from dabbing as your wounds to being your angel of mercy. He’s there until he’s sure you’re gone. His dream won’t let him move. The pitter patter of your heart is weak like a bird against his hand until it slows into nothingness. You were too weak to keep your head upright. He remembers the last puff of air as it was released towards the roof of the dome. If Viltrumites believed in souls? He’d think there was a purpose. That your exhale had set your soul free into the vast embrace of space to fly wherever you wanted. Somewhere as colorful as you had been in the backdrop of sterile white.

His dreams go through the motions just as he’d done. He sees your parents next to Anver’s. Their stoicism doesn’t hide their disgust at the sight within the dome. His back is straight as Nolan’s hand claps it, proud with a hint of relief. “You did well, Son.” When Mark merely nods, Nolan’s face softens a hair. It separates the man from his father. “I know that this is hard, but if they were weak, those two would have been no good to us.” When Nolan floats, ready to go home, Mark does as well. He’s checked out. The blood on his hand is starting to dry and he’s unsure if he wants to wash it off or keep it to remember that you existed. After today? It would be like you were never born. “Your mother’s going to be relieved.” Mark doesn’t hear the dinner plans before the both of them fly back. If there was anyone who’d notice his mood? It was Debbie. The months have gone by and he’s completed task after task. This new task is different. He doesn’t want to do it, but he’s a soldier and life wasn’t fair. Mark finds himself watching training videos with Viltrum’s lack of media. He knows it line for line, but he doesn’t pay attention. He doesn’t quite acknowledge Debbie when she joins him on the couch. His chest aches despite that his ribs had healed long ago. There’s a part of him that wants to push her hand away when she rubs his back but another wants to hold her and shed a few tears. She planted this weakness in him and now it’s blooming into something he can’t pinpoint. Something that’s pointless. “I thought you’d be more excited to go to Earth.” His jaw is tight as he swallows his sickening need to sob. “It’s just a job, Mom.” Debbie looks as if she’d been kicked and, in another show of weakness, Mark attempts to soften the blow. “I’ll get pictures for you while I’m there. I’ll try to find a girl like you.” Debbie’s hand continues to rub over his back despite how his own sit awkwardly in his lap. “But you don’t want a girl like me.” She murmured.He hates that she’s right. He wanted a girl like you. No… He wanted you. Mark balls his hands into fists. It’s getting harder to swallow down the need to cry.

“Oh, Honey…” He lets her pull him in as his eyes sting but he refuses to let his tears fall. “You loved her, didn’t you?” Mark hesitates, searching his mind for the examples that he’d been shown through Debbie and his father. He wanted to come home to you, tell you about his day, hear about your own, protect you as you protected him. He then attempts to put a name on the flutters your compliments gave him. “I don’t know.” He admits. Mark looks on numbly at the training video. Out of all of the knowledge Viltrum provided, why was there nothing about this? “I don’t know if I’ll ever know.” His eyes adjust to the pitch black of the room when his body begins to ache from the awkward position he’d slept in. Mark scrubs his eyes, frustrated by the wetness of tears that had gathered there. He stumbles into the bathroom, the backpack that he’d plucked in hand. The cool water brings him back to reality as he splashes it onto his face. He agreed to lay waste to this dimension in exchange for exploring others. Mark just hadn’t expected to find you so soon. He dons his uniform and lets the bathroom light spill in just enough to illuminate you.

Your chest rises and falls with your breathing, no doubt tired after such a stressful first day. Your shirt is colorful with drawn characters in dynamic poses, just like the sticker on the back of your car. This place suits you. He’ll dissect this world and absorb as much of it as he can before taking you back home. It’s what you deserve.

When you do wake, Mark is gone. He had been since before the sun rose. The backpack is gone and any trace that he’d been here aside from the pulled out chair.

Part 1

[lam-ila]

Sharpest Tool || Carlos Sainz

Summary: Inspired by Sharpest Tool by Sabrina Carpenter. You admit your issues with your on again off again relationship with Carlos.

Continue Reading: part one, part two, part three

Word Count: 1,590

Warnings: a few swears and an argument between reader and Carlos

please let me know if you find more that i should add

F1 Masterlist

a/n: thank you mel for helping me figure out the ending to this! i had two options and i very much like the one she chose better (which is the one that's in this fic haha)

this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

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You and Carlos were… well you didn’t know. You acted like a couple, you did things like a couple, but you weren’t. You met the whole F1 family, meeting Lando, Charles, and even little Leo Leclerc. You went to a few F1 races in the 2024 season so far, the highlight being the Australian Grand Prix.

The race was just perfect for you and Carlos, and the post-race events were also just perfect. People assumed you were a couple, you felt like a couple, until media day of the Japanese Grand Prix when Carlos stopped texting you.

You two continued like that; sometimes you acted like a couple, you went to his races, then he stopped texting you. You constantly second guessed yourself and your romantic moments with Carlos, but you found yourself going back to himself every time.

You were in one of those times where you and Carlos weren’t talking to each other. You went to the Belgian Grand Prix, then summer break arrived and you hadn’t heard a peep from him. He was all you could think about, even while you sat at your desk at work on a random Tuesday.

Standing up to go on your lunch break, you grabbed your phone and tapped on the screen to check your notifications. You were about to put your phone in your back pocket when your eyes got caught on a text from Carlos.

You rolled your eyes at the soft ‘hey’ he sent, then noticed another text from him asking you if you wanted to go to one of his upcoming races. You quietly scoffed and shoved your phone in your back pocket, walking away from your desk to go on your lunch break.

You were furious. Carlos ignored you for a week and then casually asks you to go to his race? You weren’t sure how to respond. Just ignore him back? Text something snippy? Block him? Answer and say yes?

No. You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that. You told yourself you wouldn’t agree to spending more time with Carlos if he asked again. But you wanted to so badly. You craved his touch, his kisses, his romantic gestures, but you knew it would only end in heartbreak, just like it always did.

You busied yourself with your work for the rest of the day, completely engulfing your mind into it to only thinking about it. You hadn’t thought about the texts that were sent to you by Carlos until later that day when you returned home from work. You crashed onto your couch after changing out of your work clothes and as you were about to open a text from one of your friends, your eyes glanced down at the still unopened texts from him.

You stared at it for a few minutes, contemplating everything about those texts and how you should respond, or even if you should respond.

You know what? Fuck it. You only live once, right?

You opened the texts, immediately bringing up the keyboard and typing ‘i’d love to! i’ll let my work know so i can get a few days off’. You quickly pressed send and turned the screen off before you could give yourself a chance to back out and delete the text. You squeezed your eyes shut, the small amount of time before receiving a text back feeling like hours. Your eyes opened once you felt your phone vibrate due to Carlos’ text that read ‘great! let me know when you find out cariño’.

—————

You managed to get a few days off of work and Carlos flew you out to Zandvoort for the Dutch Grand Prix. He greeted you as you got off the plane with his signature smile and you couldn't help but smile back. You felt like an idiot smiling at his stupid smile and admiring his stupid hair and running into his stupid arms for a hug as he kissed you on the top of your head with his stupid lips. His lips travelled down, pressing a kiss against your forehead, then one against your cheek, then you angled your head to press your own lips against his.

And then there was his stupid voice. Once you parted, with your nose nuzzled against his, Carlos mumbled a low "I missed you, cariño." You leaned forward to capture his lips in another kiss, humming into the kiss in agreement.

The rest of that day was euphoric; you and Carlos spent the entire time in his hotel room and ordered room service, watched tv, cuddled, and soaked the presence of each other in. You woke up the next day limbs tangled with Carlos' and light peaking through the curtains. You both groggily got up after a few minutes of laying in bed together, simultaneously getting ready for media day and taking a few seconds out of your routines every now and then to press your lips together in short, but passionate kisses.

You went through media day acting like a couple, just as you had many times before, but at the end of the day when you entered Carlos' hotel room for the night, you broke. You couldn't act like everything was okay anymore.

"What are we?" you asked Carlos the minute after you took your shoes off upon entering the hotel room.

"What do you mean?" Carlos rebutted, stepping closer to you to meet you in a kiss. Knowing what he was about to do, you placed your hand flat against his chest, stopping him in his tracks about one step away from you.

"This isn't normal, Carlos." You kept eye contact with him, trying to portray your sincerity in your words. He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. "You're lying to yourself if you think we're fine. You know you are." Carlos took your hand off of his chest, holding it in between the both of you and despite how much you knew you shouldn't let him hold it, you let him do so.

"Cariño, you confuse me." You abruptly pulled your hand out of his at his words, take a step back from his to increase the distance between the two of you.

"That's just it!” You started to pace around the area in between the door and the bed you shared with Carlos the night before. “You're either blissfully ignorant or you actually don't realize anything's wrong because we never talk about it!"

“Cariño-”

“Stop calling me that!” You quickly turned on your heel to pointedly look at Carlos. He looked at you, mouth slightly parted in shock, as you stood in front of him, breathing heavily.

"Okay," Carlos cautiously began, not wanting to provoke you even more. "I'll stop calling you that. But I thought you liked when I called you that?"

"I did. But fuck, I'm such an idiot because this has all just been casual for you, right?" you continued before Carlos could answer your question. "Just a casual little on again off again fling. But this has been everything to me. My life has revolved around you. I've used up so many of my vacation days to be at your races. I've cried myself to sleep because of the multiple times you stopped talking to me. I've never been happier while knowing you, but I've also never been in a worse state of mind while knowing you."

You stopped after spewing out your little monologue, waiting for Carlos to respond. You stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other in shock.

"I'm done," you stated after Carlos didn't say anything. "I'm done with all of this, whatever this even was." You started to collect your belongings from around the hotel room, refusing to look at Carlos because you knew you'd fall back into his arms if you looked at him.

"Let me at least get you on a flight home," Carlos finally spoke up.

"Fine."

"And text me when you get home. Please. I need to know that you get home safe." He pleaded, eyes not wavering from you hurriedly moving across the room.

"Why?" You stopped in your tracks, still facing away from him.

Because I really do love you.

"You're not going to like the answer."

"Fair enough." You shrugged, leaning down to pick up your bag and shoving your belongings into it. "I'll be waiting in the lobby until you find a flight for me." Walking past Carlos towards the door without sparing another glance at him, you put on your shoes and hovered your hand above the door nob, giving him one last chance to say something.

"Go," Carlos softly lamented. "I'll text you the information once I book one for you. You won't even have to see me."

You left the room without saying another word, slowly and quietly closing the door behind you to avoid anyone in the neighbouring rooms from hearing a loud slam.

Instead of immediately starting to find a flight for you, Carlos sank down into the desk chair that sat next to the bed. His head fell into his hands as he mentally beat himself up. How did he screw up this bad? How did he lose you?

He glanced towards the closed door, debating whether or not he should run down to the lobby to beg for you back. But he didn't, despite how much he wanted to. He couldn't do that to you after everything he put you through.

Maybe he'd earn your forgiveness one day.

——————————

F1 Taglist: @2manytabsopen @matthewkniesys @fallinallincurls @c-losur3 @sof1shticated

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[anythinggoesbutme]

Secret Hearts, Shattered Trust

Hawthorne Brothers (feat. Grayson Hawthorne x Lyra Kane)

Warnings: Canon-typical family tension (arguments, emotional conflict), Discussion of secrecy and betrayal (mild emotional hurt), No graphic violence or explicit content, Fluff and eventual family support

Synopsis: Lyra and Grayson have been secretly dating for months, hidden from his brothers. When they unexpectedly drop by and find her at Grayson’s place, the betrayal cuts deep. How will Grayson handle their shock and disappointment?

Song: “Call It Dreaming” — Iron & Wine

Word Count: 904

Grayson Hawthorne had never been a rule-breaker.

He lived by order. Expectation. Honor. His world had been forged in legacy and responsibility, framed by marble halls and cold logic. He didn’t chase chaos like Jameson or laugh in the face of it like Xander. He mastered it.

So when he fell for Lyra Kane—sharp-tongued, fierce-eyed Lyra who’d made it to the final four of the Grandest Game without breaking a sweat—he didn’t let it show. Not at first.

It had been a risk.

Not just because of the Game. Not just because she hadn’t won. But because she saw him. She looked past the Hawthorne name and the layers of curated calm and saw a boy who wasn’t quite sure how to stop surviving

She’d leaned in anyway.

Now, six months later, she was the only place he felt safe.

It was supposed to be a quiet Saturday.

Grayson had made coffee. Lyra had stolen his favorite sweatshirt and was curled up on the couch flipping through a book, hair messy and legs tangled under a blanket.

And then someone tried the door.

Grayson froze.

He hadn’t buzzed anyone in. Only a few people had keys.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

“Gray?” Xander’s voice rang out cheerfully. “We brought cinnamon rolls and emotional baggage!”

Grayson stood up just as Xander strolled in with a pastry box in hand, followed by Jameson and Nash—Jameson still in a rumpled blazer like he’d come straight from whatever he was pretending to do that morning, and Nash, arms crossed and boots still muddy.

And then all three of them saw her.

Lyra.

Curled on Grayson’s couch. Wearing his sweatshirt. Looking up like a deer in headlights.

Jameson blinked. “Oh.”

Xander’s brows lifted. “Well, this explains the mood lately.”

Nash just stared. “You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on here, Gray?”

Grayson stepped forward, protective but calm. “Lyra and I are together.”

Jameson let out a low whistle. “How long?”

“Six months,” Grayson said. “Since the Game ended.”

Lyra stood slowly, shoulders squared, but her voice was steady. “It wasn’t meant to be a secret forever. We just… didn’t want to make it a circus.”

Jameson crossed his arms. “So instead of a circus, you went for espionage?”

“I didn’t want this to be a family decision,” Grayson said tightly. “I didn’t want permission. I wanted something that was mine.”

“And did you think we’d try to take it from you?” Nash asked, voice low but not sharp—not yet.

“No,” Grayson said. “But I thought you might not understand.”

There was a long beat of silence.

Then Xander, still holding the cinnamon rolls, finally spoke. “I knew you’d been smiling more.”

Jameson glanced over. “You noticed too?”

Xander nodded. “He hasn’t made that tragic martyr face in weeks.”

Jameson smirked faintly. “Even made a joke the other day. A joke, Nash. I almost called the hospital.”

Grayson blinked, caught off guard.

Nash looked at his brothers, then back at Grayson. “So what you’re sayin’ is… this girl”—he nodded toward Lyra—“has been the reason you finally look like you ain’t carryin’ the weight of the whole damn family on your back?”

Grayson turned to Lyra, who was standing beside him now, fingers brushing his. He looked back at Nash and said clearly, “Yes.”

Lyra added softly, “I care about him. A lot. I didn’t expect it. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Xander finally set the pastry box down on the counter with a grand flourish. “Then I vote we don’t burn the place down with judgment and guilt today. Someone pour me coffee.”

Jameson raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Look at him,” Xander said, pointing at Grayson like it was obvious. “He’s practically glowing. If this is what happiness looks like on Gray, I say we encourage it.”

Jameson hesitated—just a moment—but then sighed and ruffled Grayson’s hair on his way to the fridge. “Fine. But next time you decide to hide a full-blown relationship from your brothers, at least warn us so we don’t walk in during cuddle hour.”

“I wasn’t cuddling,” Grayson muttered.

“Sure,” Jameson called. “And I’m emotionally stable.”

Nash stayed quiet the longest. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.

“You got your reasons for keepin’ quiet. I get that,” he said. “But we’re your brothers. We’ve seen you wrecked. Hell, we’ve been the reason you’ve been wrecked. So if someone makes you happy—even if she came outta that Game with fire in her teeth—I’m on your side.”

Grayson let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thanks,” he said, voice quiet. “All of you.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Jameson warned.

“Too late,” Xander said through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

Lyra blinked, visibly softening.

Then, without waiting, Grayson reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

That afternoon, they all stayed.

Grayson made a second pot of coffee. Xander picked a documentary none of them paid attention to. Jameson fell asleep halfway through on the couch with a throw pillow over his head. Nash cleaned up the kitchen muttering about how city apartments were “hella impractical.”

Lyra sat tucked into Grayson’s side the whole time, not hidden, not quiet—just there. Just real.

And for once, Grayson didn’t feel like he was managing a crisis.

He felt like he was living a truth.

And the people who mattered most?

They were still here.

Still family.

Still his.

[rogueshadow1124]

SHE'S BACK

[THE BATFAMILY SERIES]

Summary: a few months ago Y/N left for university, leaving her family to begin something new, but now she's back.

Word count: 3621

Warnings: mild swearing, (not proof read)

"And there it is..." Y/N muttered, shutting the door of the taxi behind her, slinging her duffel bag over her right shoulder with an exaggerated huff. Her bright orbs trailed over the manor before her, wavering over the vines that travelled up the sides of the building and momentarily glancing at the windows which had no source of light seeping through. To be honest it wouldnt be expected at this hour, it had just turned four o'clock, in the morning that is. "My humble abode."

The girl walked up the pathway, hopping up the steps of the front porch area. Her left hand slid into the pocket of her jacket to pull out a worn metal key, slotting it into the hole in the dark oak door, she wiggled it slightly smiling once she heard the churning of the locks before an audiable click sounded into the silence of the night.

Pushing down onto the silver handle, sighing in relief when the warmth of her childhood home hit her right in the face. She had missed being at the manor, she missed everyone she had left behind- not purposely. In the early summer, a year ago to this day she had recieved a letter from one of the biggest universities globally, it was one of the best ones around- at first she hadn't at all planned on leaving, not wanting to leave her father, her grand-father figure and her brothers behind.

Her youngest brother Damian ended up finding the letter when he was snooping through her room one night, she told him plenty of times that he wasnt allowed to do that but he didnt seem to understand privacy nor did he bother to listen to anything he is told to do. The next day Damian took the letter to bruce and informed him about how she had been accepted.

When she was confronted about it- basically being cornered on the couch by not only her father and youngest brother but also her other three brothers and the family friend Alfred who worked as the butler in Wayne manor, she was eventually persuaded to take the offer after denying and pushing it off many times, the others had told her that it was a once in a life time opportunity that she couldnt give up and assured her that they would be perfectly fine without her, which wasnt exactly a lie, though there were some struggles once she left.

Bruce had gotten so used to the morning visits from his daughter, it was the sake routine running- he would get a knock at his office door, not even being able to respond before the door was opened in in walks Y/N in all her glory, a tray full of food in her hand that also with held a glass of orange juice, without pulp just the way he liked it. Then he would get a mini lecture from her where she tells him how it's important that he doesnt over work himself and that he gets a break or how he shouldnt skip meals because it wasnt good for his health. He always got annoyed at this but when she was gone, he sure did find how much he missed her.

Alfred had taken her leave better than the others, of course he did but that didnt mean he didnt miss her. The butler had been in her life ever since she was just a small child, they had a kind of tradition where they would bake once a week and test out making new baked goods, sometimes it went awfully wrong but that didnt stop the fun, it was a laugh.

Dick was only older than her by a couple of years, he didnt like the fact that his, what he liked to call 'baby sister' was venturing off into the big wide world, he knew that nowhere was safe no matter how nice it looks but he had to trust that she could look after herself and although he had seen her fighting in action many times, he still couldnt come to face the fact that she could always help herself, he was her protector and no matter what she said he would always be there to protect her.

Jason was her first younger brother, he looked up to Y/N alot and was worried that she would forget about him when she left, she was one of the few people he didnt want to loose and now she would hours away from him, not being there to 'annoy' him and be on his back 24/7. Tim knew that this was what's best for his older sister, she would be able to succeed and achieve what she needed to in order to create the best life for herself, he missed her but he knew this was what's best for her.

Now Damian had made it look like he wasnt at all bothered or affected by the fact his oldest half-blood sister was leaving but deep down her really was. Nobody knew that ever since she left he would sneak off to sleep in her room at night and cuddle up to her teddy bear that still slightly held her citrus scent- atleast he hoped nobody noticed. He respected her, she was always there even when he didnt need her and he had only just gotten used to her being around that now he was at a lost without her.

Y/N's eyes squinted, closing the door slowly behind her as not to make any loud sound. She looked to the end of the open hallway, smirking when she noticed the kitching light was on. That only meant one thing, she wouldnt have expected any less from Alfred, he was always the first one to be awake in the house, it was like he didnt need sleep- when she was younger she thought that he was some kind of metahuman or alien. It's funny if you think about it.

She strolled towards the opening to the kitching, peering through, eyes meeting the butlers back as he was turned away from her. She smiled to herself, coughing lowly making Alfred spin on his heel, hand coming up to his chest subtly, eyes wide when he spotted the girl.

"Miss Y/N. What are you doing here?"

"Its winter break, decided to come home. Kinda missed this place." The duffel bag slid from her shoulder, slumping to the ground. She rushed forwards and embraced the man in a much needed hug, he chuckled light heartedly returning the gesture, patting at her back.

"You could have given me a heart attack." They pulled away from one another, Y/N letting out a laugh at his statement while his face turned stern, arms coming up to cross among his chest.

"Your an old man Alfie, they might get more frequent." She laughed harder, hands clutching at her stomach. The butler rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the girls antics, this would be one things he hadn't missed, her humor and comments. The girl looked up immediately letting her laughter die down when she spotted the look on his face. "I'm joking, I'm joking."

"It's a pleasure to have you back Miss Y/N." A smile broke out onto his features, one just as sincere being returned.

After her interaction with Alfred she picked up her duffel bag and lazily threw it over her shoulder, making her way out into the wide hallway and towards the stairs. She hopped up the in a rhymatic motion, skipping a couple steps ever now and again- making it to the top she spotted her room, the one she had accustomed since she was a child, the door was open ajar, a hint of light passing through the gaps.

Her eyes squinted slightly, a small smile crossing her features.

She crept towards the room, pushing the door open- eyes immediately trailing over the navy walls that were covered in band posters and paintings she had created herself. Her Y/E/C orbs landed on her bed, which had an odd lump in the centre, her brows creased as she let her bad slide from her shoulder and plop to the ground before making her way to stand beside her bed.

Out-stretching her hand, she grasped at the corner of the dark sheets, tugging it back to reveal her youngest brother curled up in a fetal position, arms wrapped tightly around her Teddy bear.

"Oh Dami." Y/N chuckled, sitting down on the edge of her bed gently as if not to wake the boy. She reached out a hand, gliding it through his dark spiky locks, humming in content when she felt him move under her touch, leaning up into her hand, she grinned whispering- "Not so big and bad after all huh?"

She watched as he stretched out, eyes peeling open to show off his ocean blues. At first he seemed to still be in a half-asleep state, eyes wandering around until they set on his older sister, widening in surprise as his body jolted up from the bed, scooting backwards away from her for a split second, hands coming up to rub at his eyes.

"Y/N?" His voice croaked hoarsly. "W-when did you get back?"

"Hmmm." She looked down at her wrist, eyes oogling at the watch that layed on her lean wrist. "Arrived in the city about an hour or so ago, got here say twenty minutes ago."

"I-I..." Damian stuttered, internally debating whether or not he should hug her- he had missed her dearly, not at all wanting to show it as he had a reputation to uphold but he hadn't seen her for what felt like forever- to her utter surprise his smaller form launched at her, arms wrapping around her shoulders, head snuggling into the crevice of her neck. "I-I urm- I missed you."

"I missed you too Dami." Her arms wrapped around him, pulling his body closer to her own, near to the point he was sitting in her lap. A few seconds passed, a nice and peaceful silence falling between the two, the girl ended up pulling back to look down at the boy who had a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips- which was indeed rare. "Aw Dami, you miss me so much to give me a little smile."

"Tch, in your dreams Wayne."

"Not at all have you changed but I guess I wouldnt have you any other way." She pulled him back in, placing kisses around his face to which he tried struggling away from her, making laughs erupt in her throat at his reaction to her teasing.

"Get off of me!" Damian pushed ta her shoulder, a loud thump sounding in the room when she ended up falling to the floor from the impact while he boy stayed on the bed, on his stomach as his head dangled from the edge.

"Ouch." Her laughing ceased, arm crossing over her chest to lay a hand hand on her now throbbing shoulder.

The sound of Y/N falling from the bed, caught the attention of the lightest of sleepers within the house- The girl stared at her youngest brother, eyes squinted, brows furrowed and mouth a gape. As she went to stand up, the sound of her door creaking open caught both of the siblings attention, Y/N again falling back to the floor.

"What's with all the-" In walked the eldest adopted son, fisted hands rubbing at his eyes as he let out a longing yawn- his sleepy demina instantly switching to a more lively source of emotion when he spotted his 'little' sister sitting on the floor, hand clutching at her still throbbing shoulder. "Y/N?!"

Dick launched himself forwards, hands reaching down and clutching to her arms before her pulled her up into his embrace to which she let out a slight yelp at the rushed movement, harshly being lifted from the carpeted floor.

Oh how he had missed his sister, she was always on his mind- he tended to worry about her alot and had actually at some point contemplated driving to the university to snatch her up and drive her back home where she would be in his sight at all times, though in reality it would be him clinging to her and definetly not the other way round.

"D-dick. Air. I need air." Y/N stuttered, hand patting at his bicep. The male instantly let go, holding her at arms length, letting his eyes skim and check her over. A giant grin etching over his features as he pulled her back in to give her one last squeeze before letting go. "Damn do you have a strong grip boy."

"Dont you 'boy' me. What happened to answering my calls, hmm?" Dicks hands came to rest on his hips, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. Y/N could only look up at him in confusion, her mind going to only a day ago when she last spoke to him.

"I-I spoke to you yesterday morning."

"What about last night, I called before patrol." He consulted further, eyeing the girl up and down as she scoffed out a chuckle.

"Oh yeah silly me, I'm not aloud to sleep now. I thought this was a free country." She rolled her eyes, shooting damian one last glare before storming towards her door, walking out into the dark halls of the manor making a beeline for the door to the left hand side of her room, barging inside like she owned the place.

There she spotted a bed, in the middle layed a slight bump under the covers, a tuft of raven hair showing from the corner as light snores echoed the room. Y/N grinned curtly, waltzing over towards the bed where she pulled the covers down slowly, humming at the content look that plagued her younger brothers face in this vulnerable state- it was a rare sight indeed, for Jason to look so calm and collected, he always carried this cold and hard exterior, he liked it that way and had been the same ever since she could remember.

"Jay..." she coo'd, one hand reaching out to run through his hair lightly, in an almost motherly way. He let out a low groan in response, turning his head to the side to burrow into his pillow away from the touch so he was able to get back to his slumber.

"Five more minutes Y/N/N, s'too early." Y/N rose an eyebrow at the boys antic, pursing her lips when she felt him tense, halting his sleepy movement. His body suddenly turned fully towards the girl, him still laying on his side as he stared up at her wide eyed. "Y/N?!"

"Hiyah Jay." His lips twitched when he noticed she was really there, his arms slanting behind him so he could push himself up and against his head bored, hands rubbing at his face and ruffling his hair.

"Si-(yawn)-nce when were you back?" He croaked, looking at his sister with tired eyes although a now lazy smile hooked his lips. He reached out an arm, bending it at the meltdown around the back of her neck to pull her into his side making her chuckle and push against his torso to get away from his hold, accepting defeat when he kept her beneath his arm, a loose strand of hair falling in her eyes to which she blew at.

"Missed you too." The girl grumbled, poking his ribs. "Got back earlier this morning."

"Such a softie." A voice echoed from the doorway making the siblings heads turn to see Dick and Damian standing there. Damian had his arms crossed with an eyebrow raised, his face contorted into his usual sour tone and Dich held a hand to his chest teasingly, wiggling the fingers of his other hand towards Jason who scowled and pushed Y/N away.

"Shut the fuck up Dickwad." Jason growled lowly, standing from his bed and stretching with an audiable hum and groan in relief at the stretch of his achy muscles.

"Hey, wheres Tim?" Y/N questioned looking towards the eldest who shrugged, looking down to the youngest who tutted, rolling his eyes in an obvious sign of annoyance.

"Probably in the cave, may aswell live there at this point." Damian pushed off the door frame, putting his weight onto his left side, hand coming to be placed on his right hip as he nodded behind him in ignition for his sister to follow him.

"You do know I know where the cave is, right Dami?" She laughed, walking towards him watching as he turned on his heel and stormed away with a huff. She stayed standing on the spot for a second with a blank look on her face before blinking with a shake of her head and speeding in the same direction Damian had.

She walked down the dark hall, turning at the stairwell where she spotted the spiky haired broody boy standing at the bottom with the same sour look on his face. Also taking note of the pattered steps of her two other brothers behind her as they followed along. She sped down the oak steps, hopping down the last two with a smile as she turned to Damian who looked to have already turned and started walking towards the knight statue in the corner of the foyer.

He pulled down on the arm, waiting for the bookshelf to move away from the wall to reveal the circular gap where another stairway was seen, leading down into the infamous batcave. He lead the three down the length of the opening, and into the main area where a couple of couches could be seen around the coffee table in the dimly lit room and in the centre at the back near the jhettbrick walls was a podium where a whole computer and tech system was located.

In the chair was a lean body, hunched over the desktop.

"Hey replacement?!" Jason's voice boomed, echoing through the cave- said boy jumped from his seat, falling to the floor with a pained groan and a bunch of curses.

"Jason Peter Todd!" Y/N turned to slap at the boy, hitting his chest then his arm and then the side of his head. Jason jumped back, arms coming up to shield himself from her as he grumbled. With one last glare sent in Jason's direction, she pointed at him sternly, turning on her heel to look at the boy on the floor, staggering her way up the small slope to crouch down by him, placing a hand on his back.

"Hmmm wha-" Tim's head lifted slightly, his eyes being blocked by the loose strains of dark locks that had fallen down messily, one of his hands swiping them away to allow him to see his surrounding clearly, though all he could actually see was his sister, who he hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime. "Y-Y/N."

"You alright Timbo?" And within seconds she was taken back by him shooting up to wrap her in a hug, his head resting tightly on her shoulder, hands grasping at her jacket.

"Your back." He whispered, trying to move more into her embrace, near enough sitting in her lap.

"Yes Tim I'm back." She breathed out, giving him a final squeeze as she pulled away, holding him by the shoulders at arms length giving him a full serious look. "And what did I say about looking after yourself Hm?"

"I-I well I-urmm..." under the harsh gaze he stuttered, looking towards the ground guiltily, scratching at the back of his head muttering out a 'sorry'.

"Mhm, well I suppose I can forgive you." She squinted her Y/E/C eyes, piercing through the boys shard ocean blues but couldnt hold the cold, stern look for any longer, letting a large smile break onto her face, messing his hair up with her hand before pushing his head away gently. "Seriously though, are you okay? You took quite the fall there."

"Y-yeah I'm good." He smiled.

"Good now i just gotta find-" she hauled herself up from the floor, dusting off her trousers, spinning to face the others only to find a familiar face staring right back at her, the boys standing behind the figure. "Dad."

"Y/N." He sent her a half smile, eyes following as she rushed over towards him, hurling her smaller form into his bigger one, arms wrapping around his waist to which he returned only his were placed around her shoulders, one hand resting on the back of her head. A singular tear slipped down her cheek as she nestled her head further into her fathers chest, she felt his chin atop her head, as he squeezed ever so slightly she could hardly feel the move. "You've grown."

"Y-yeah. I couldnt stay small forever." She stood away from him, hands clasping infront of her as she chuckled. "I was only gone for a few months."

"A few months?!" Dicks voice suddenly tuned through, going from his normal tone to a high pitched one as he dramatically pushed by Bruce and took Y/N's face in his hands, looking at her intently, orbs switching between each of her features. "No no no- A few months too long. It felt like forever!"

"Get off of me." She slapped at his hand, scowling up at the taller male. "Always the dramatics with you. I'm back now arent I?"

[fireside-fanfics]

So lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Tommy Miller (because that man is FINE) and I was wondering what he’d be like/how he’d react if his partner got hurt?

So if you could write something that broaches that topic I’d be forever grateful! No pressure at all though if it’s not something you want to write!

Thank you for sending me a request. I got carried away, and this ended up being longer than I anticipated. Hope you enjoy it!

You should read another Tommy fic I recently published called “Anchored to You.” I think you’d like it; it has simliar themes.

Better Late Than Never

It started like most things in the world after the outbreak—with survival, and then, somehow, with trust. Clarke had shown up in Jackson three winters ago. She was sharp-eyed and calm in the way only people who had seen too much could be. She didn’t try to make a big impression or pretend to be something she wasn’t. But the moment she stepped foot past the gates with a rifle slung over her shoulder and a calm, calculating gaze that swept the perimeter like she’d already memorized the layout, Tommy Miller had known: she wasn’t someone you let slip past unnoticed.

Clarke wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was something about her. It was an unspoken knowing, a way she moved with purpose that matched his own. Within a month, they were patrolling together. Within two, they were leading scouting teams. And by the end of that first year, they were Jackson’s most trusted duo—efficient, composed, and damned near telepathic in the field. They didn’t need to speak most days. A flick of her eyes was enough for him to know she saw the same threat he did. A muttered breath, and they’d flank without planning. Like two halves of a single blade.

When the town slept, the pair would often find each other by the fire pits behind the stables. She’d hand him a cup of whatever passable coffee the town brewed that week, and he’d talk about the sky and how much it changed depending on the season. She’d listen quietly, intently, always letting him fill the silence. They weren’t lovers—not officially—not anything really, not on paper at least. There was no mistaking it, and everyone in Jackson knew: if you found one, you found the other.

Six months ago, things started to shift; not in grand ways rather little moments. It was in the way his hand lingered on her back when they’d review plans, or how she looked at him just a second too long when he was talking about the way Ellie reminded him of Sarah. Tommy only ever talked about Sarah when his guard was down after a long, hard day that wore the edge off his usual silence. After a few drinks at the Tipsy Bison when the weight of the past slipped past his lips before he could stop it. After lacing his fingers through hers when they sat close by the fire at a safe house on stakeout, the night pressing in quiet around them.

Those were the moments when he let it out. The memories came slow and careful, like he was afraid saying too much might make her disappear. And Clarke, in those moments, opened too. It wasn’t easy, but with Tommy, she could speak the truth out loud. She told him about her baby brother, who was only eight when the outbreak started, and how he died in her arms before she could get him help. She shared how she’d been raising him since she was fifteen, after their father died not long after he was born and their mother had all but vanished into her grief. After her brother died, it was just her and her twin. They were thick as thieves, and even now, she didn’t take it for granted that he was still here, safe in Jackson with her.

They were only ever vulnerable like that with each other—in those fleeting, fragile hours when the world outside fell quiet, and it felt like they were the only two people left in it. They danced around whatever it was growing between them. Both too old, too scarred, too afraid to name something they didn’t want to risk breaking. Yet it was there, humming low between them, steady as a heartbeat.

But tonight? Tonight shattered all of that.

The town was quiet when they returned—too quiet. The wind had teeth tonight. Bitter and biting, it screamed between the cracks in Jackson’s gates as they groaned. Jesse stumbled through the snow first, blood trailing from his temple, breath fogging in the freezing air. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell, one arm hanging uselessly, clothes torn and half frozen. And then came Clarke.

Tommy had just stepped out of the barn when he saw them. His chest locked up the second he saw her. She wasn’t walking so much as leaning, bracing herself against Jesse. Her jacket was soaked in blood, part of her side wrapped in something that looked like it had once been a shirt—improvised to keep her insides inside. Her lip was split, her right eye already swollen shut. Her hair, usually tucked in braids, was tangled with sweat and dried blood. She looked half-dead.

Tommy didn’t remember moving. One moment he was beside the barn. The next, he was there, catching her just as her just as her knees buckled.

“Clarke—hey, hey,” he breathed, panic threading his voice as he held her up. “You’re okay… I got you, baby girl.”

“Hey, cowboy,” she sputtered. She tried to smile, and it broke his heart. “You look like shit.”

“Don’t talk, save your strength, doll,” Tommy huffed something between a laugh and a sob. His hands scanned her whole body, assessing the damage. “What the hell happened to you two?”

“Guess we took the scenic route,” she rasped, trying to brush it off like they hadn’t nearly died.

“It was a setup,” Jesse rasped. He looked about ready to collapse himself, but he still continued. “Eight of them. Waiting at the safe house. They weren’t scavengers. They were hunting. It’s like—it’s like they knew we were coming, Tommy.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched so tight he thought it might crack. “You’re tellin’ me I sent y’all out there into a trap?”

“They were sick,” Clarke winced as pain flared, sharp and immediate. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused. “One of ‘em had teeth filed to points—screamed the whole time he was trying to gut me. They didn’t want supplies. They wanted to make us suffer… We barely made it out.”

“Barely,” Jesse repeated, voice raw. “She—she threw herself in front of me. Took the brunt of it. I was out of ammo. I would’ve—she saved my life.”

Tommy’s hand trembled on her waist. “Jesus Christ…”

“I covered Jesse,” she muttered, as if it needed explaining. “He’s still learning. Still a kid.”

“I’m nineteen,” Jesse grumbled, voice low, but at that moment, he looked more like a sulky kid than a grown man.

“You’re a kid,” she growled, before her knees gave out completely.

Tommy scooped her up without hesitation, bridal style, even as she gasped in pain. She was light. Too light.

“All right let’s go,” he hissed, voice iron.

Tommy hadn’t moved in hours—not even to eat or drink. The room was thick with silence that was broken only by the soft shuffle of Maria coming and going, her footsteps light but steady as she brought updates. Stitches. Blood loss. Fractured ribs. Possible concussion. None of it sounded fatal, but it was enough to twist his stomach into knots, gnawing at the edges of his calm. Clarke looked smaller lying there in the cot—too small, too fragile, too vulnerable. 

Her skin was pale, the color sucked out like life had seeped from her. It wasn’t the Clarke Tommy knew. Not the woman who could break a man’s arm before he even had a chance to draw his holster. Not the woman who’d yell at you for wasting bullets but then turn around and walk twenty miles just to recover a broken rifle, because every scrap of ammo was precious. She fought tooth and nail—relentless, unstoppable, leaving no stone unturned, no challenge unmet. She didn’t get hurt, especially not like this.

Tommy sat with his elbows resting heavily on his knees, hands steepled against his mouth, eyes locked on her face, guarding her with a silent vigilance. Every breath she took was a small victory. Every rise and fall of her chest was a reminder of how fragile things could be. He felt hopeless, replaying it all in his head, wishing he had been there. If  he was there, he could have shielded her, fought alongside her, caught her before she fell. He was driving himself crazy with the what-if’s.

In an armchair at the foot of her bed, Tommy did the only thing he could do: wait for her to wake up; he had started to doze off when—

“You gonna sit there brooding all night?” her voice croaked, barely audible.

Tommy’s head shot up and he gasped, “Clarke?”

“Mmmm … thought I was dreaming you … a Greek god resting at the foot of my bed”

“You ain’t dreamin’,” Tommy let out a long breath, part relief, part something deeper. “You’re in the infirmary. Took a bad hit to the ribs. Lost a lot of blood.”

“Sounds about right,” she exhaled through her nose.

Tommy hesitated, then reached for her hand. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tommy whispered earnestly, holding her hand and squeezing it. Clarke’s brow twitched in confusion. “Don’t ever go out there without me again. Don’t ever throw yourself in front of a goddamn blade like your life don’t matter, doll.”

Clarke stared at him, exhausted but steady when she said, “Jesse would’ve died.”

“You could’ve died, Clarke”

“But I didn’t. I’m here, Tommy. I’m right here with you, like I’m supposed to be.”

“That’s not the point,” he cried, voice cracking under the weight of everything he’d been holding in. His eyes glistened, rimmed red and full of tears that threatened to spill over. “You scared me more than I ever thought possible. Seeing you walk through the gate like that—broken and helpless—it shook me to my core.” 

 Tommy released a shaky breath, leaning closer, the pain and honesty etched deep in every word. He swallowed hard, struggling to steady himself, but the rawness in his voice only deepened as he continued, “You and me—we’ve always had each other’s backs, been through hell and back together. I believed that was all we ever needed, but what happened tonight made me realize I’ve been lyin’ to myself all along. I care about you more than I’ve ever imagined possible—not just as some soldier watching your six, not just as your best friend sipping coffee in the mornings together but as something... more.”

Tommy looked at her then, heart laid bare, nothing left to hide. All the years of restraint, of pretending it was just camaraderie or duty, cracked open in the silence between them. He hoped Clarke could see it—the weight of everything he hadn’t said, everything he’d buried under patrol schedules and shared whiskey and late-night conversations that always stopped just short of real. He hoped she could see that whatever came next, it wasn’t just words. It wasn’t just a moment of fear or adrenaline or guilt. It was the truth—raw and long-hidden—finally breaking free.

Her eyes locked onto his, steady and sharp, like she was studying every line of his face for some hidden meaning. Like she was parsing the truth from the confession. As if she didn’t trust it, not fully, not yet but wanted to—no, needed to. The silence stretched, taut with everything unsaid, and still she didn’t look away. It was like she was searching for proof that what he felt wasn’t fleeting. That this wasn’t just about the blood and the fear and how close they’d come to losing everything. That it was real. That it had always been real.

“I thought about you,” she whispered. “Out there. When they surrounded us. I kept thinking about how we never said it. How stupid it’d be to die and never say it.”

“Say it now,” he murmured. His thumb brushed gently over her bruised knuckles.

The silence that followed was thick, but not hesitant by any means. With a deep breath, she said, “I love you.”

He leaned down, forehead resting gently against hers. “I love you too.”

Spring came slowly that year. The melt left the streets slick and muddy, but the sun was warmer each day. Clarke was walking again, slower than before, but stronger by the day. The town had rallied around her like she was Jackson’s own guardian angel. Jesse hadn’t left her side for the first five days and neither had Tommy. Today, they walked the perimeter together; just the two of them, hand in hand.

“Think you’ll ever let me live down almost dying?” she asked, smirking as they walked side by side.

“Nope,” Tommy teased. He shot her a sideways look. “Gonna hold it over your head till we’re old and gray.”

“We are old,” she laughed. She elbowed him playfully

“Then I guess I’m lucky to have you while I still got time.”

Clarke stopped then and turned to face him. Her eyes, now healed and vibrant again, held him without wavering. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close

“We’ve still got time,” she whispered. “Let’s not waste it.”

Tommy smiled, held her face in his hands, and kissed her softly. She giggled into the kiss and he tickled her sides, making her squeal. Quietly, he took her hand in his and together they walked back toward Jackson. Their fingers laced together with the quiet ease of something long overdue, something more, something worth fighting for. For the first time in years, the world didn’t feel like the world was ending. 

Now, it felt like it was only just beginning again—slowly, carefully, like the first thaw after a long winter. Jackson’s muddy paths stretched out before them, glistening with meltwater, and the sky was wide and clear above the wall. The ghosts still lingered, as they always would. The pain, the guilt, the things they’d seen—they were woven into the fabric of who they were. But for once, they weren’t drowning in it. They were moving forward, together.

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check Part 15

Run, Billy, Run

The Frat Boy Au

Read Previous on Ao3 or tumblr.

Midterms hits the house like a hurricane. Somehow, three days before, everyone suddenly remembers, “Hey. We go to school here.” And they start to buckle down on studying.

Billy, who people were surprised to find out did study, found the whole thing deeply amusing.

The only ones seemingly immune to this fervor were the handful of arts students. While Carver was mainlining Red Bull, Munson had apparently had his “big” final a few weeks ago by playing Tartuffe, and so he was just hanging around idly working on a paper or two.

And Steve is acting pretty harried, but Billy knew for a fact that Steve had turned in his short film and just had to watch a few movies or papers or something.

That’s how Billy finds him, after a few days after the “incident,” holed up in their room under a blanket while someone shouts from his computer in German.

“Hey, Stevie,” Billy says, tossing his bag on the bed.

“Hey.” Steve mumbles, his whole beautiful face lit up by the laptop’s glow. He was just a lump under the blanket, his big round eyes neon blue in the dark.

“What are you watchin’?” Billy asks with a yawn.

“Run Lola Run,” Steve says softly. “You’d like it. Wanna watch the end with me?”

“Yeah,” Billy rubs his eyes and yawns.

Things have been a little strained, but he promised to be normal, happy he’d been granted a do-over. Luckily, right now Billy can chalk up all weird behavior to midterms. If he doesn’t want to sit in the room feeling like Steve hates him? Midterms, gotta study! It’s the perfect plan.

Except for the fact that when he slides in next to Steve and feels the warmth of his skin, it prickles like homesickness.

Hirath, that was the word. Homesickness for a home that may never have existed, or that may never be.

He cozies up, knocking the laptop over so that it scrapes against the wall. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, correcting it with a soft yawn.

“What class is this for?” Billy asks.

“Gaze and visuality,” Steve replies softly, starting it up agan.

There’s a series of quick cuts on the screen but Billy can’t tear his eyes away from the play of light across Steve’s skin.

“That’s Lola. She has twenty minutes to save her boyfriend’s life.”

Billy sneaks a look at the screen. “She doesn’t look like much of a doctor.”

“She has to get 100 grand to save him or his mobster boss is gonna kill him.

“Damn, run faster, Lola,” Billy says.

Steve sniggers. “She’s already failed twice. She’s given her all she’s got, captain!”

Billy snorts. “Oh no, not the spiral staircase! Lola run, more like Lola fall.”

“Can you imagine?” Steve giggles, sneaking a look over.

“I can. It’s like a family guy bit.” Billy shifts a little, trying to get comfortable without getting that close to Steve. There wasn’t a lot of room, but he was trying to keep it more no homo than all over him.

It sucked because getting too close to Steve was one of his very favorite things.

“Hey, uh…” Steve’s big brown eyes skittered back to Billy’s. “Are you going home over break?”

Billy raises one brow. “Not fucking likely.”

Steve sits up a little. “Uh, Robin says there’s this gay bar? The Cottonmouth?”

“You’re not sure?” Billy asks.

“Don’t be a fucking dick. Anyway, Dad’s taking Mom on a cruise, again. So I thought maybe we could go?” Steve toys with the edge of the blanket. God, he was so cute.

“You want me to come?” Billy watches him.

“Yeah, I…” Steve swallows, his throat moving delicately. “I asked Jason already. He’s in, but I guess his boyfriend always goes home for Christmas.”

Billy didn’t even know his hopes had risen enough to sink, but apparently they did, leaving him feel suddenly drained. He doesn’t know what his problem was. Steve hadn’t changed. Billy’s gotten so much more than he ever deserved with Steve’s acceptance and understanding.

And yet Billy, like a fool, still kept hoping for more.

“Sure,” He says, trying to feign nonchalant, even though he’d paused way too long. But Billy’s a master at that, and he turns back to the movie. As if Steve didn’t make his heart race like he was in a free fall.

“Robin says I need to just ‘get out there.’” Steve’s voice trembles a bit on the end and it makes Billy’s heart tremble with it.

“You don’t have to,” Billy says, trying to keep his eyes on the screen, “go at your own pace.”

Steve sighs. “You always know what to say.”

“You are literally the only person in the world that thinks that, Princess. Ask Jason.”

Steve looks down at his blanket, pausing a moment. “So you don’t think I should? Get out there, I mean?”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable.” Billy says slowly.

He doesn’t even want to think of what could happen if Steve went to the Cottonmouth. How much attention he would get.

“But then when will it get comfortable?” Steve sighs.

Most people, when they’re upset, want Billy to ask questions, pull them out.

With Steve, if he just waits and listens, Steve will start to talk on his own. You just have to let him speak.

“I just feel like I finally got the like… word that’s supposed to explain me. And it does,” Steve starts quietly. “But it comes with all this baggage. And most of the time, I’m just too scared to come out at all, so I wonder if I’m just faking.”

“You’re not faking.” Billy murmurs. “Definitely not. Straight boys just don’t kiss like that.”

“But are you sure?” Steve continues. “What if I’m just mucking everything up just like usual.”

Billy waits a beat before he can’t help but give in.

He shifts a little and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“You gonna say something perfect now,” Steve says with a pathetic little head shake, brown bangs bobbing in his face.

“No. I’m gonna give you a hug.” Billy says, pressing Steve’s head into his neck. “You’re worrying too much.”

The laptop tips and falls back, movie now playing to the ceiling.

But Steve doesn’t seem to mind, burrowing into Billy’s neck so quickly it takes Billy’s breath away. They fit together perfectly, like a dream.

“I feel like I just started and I’m failing.” Steve says miserably.. “And I couldn’t even tell you at first because I’m chickenshit.”

He’s speaking into Billy’s neck, the vibrations running through Billy’s neck and straight to his dick because he’s not a statue. If the guy he’s in love with starts nuzzling him and talking about his feelings, he’s going to get hard. He just can’t let Steve find out.

“You can’t fail being gay,” Billy rolls his eyes, chuckling a little.

Steve hesitates, and then starts to shake a little. Panic spears Billy right through the chest. Great going, now he made Steve cry.

But then Steve pulls away, his eyes full of mischief. He laughs, and Billy’s breath gets taken away all over again.

“When I say it out loud it does sound weird.”

“Right, it’s not a test!” Billy says, trying not to be distracted by Steve’s rumpled hair. It’s far too easy to over-imagine things in the fading afternoon light of a movie they’ve both forgotten.

He would come home from class and it could be just like this. Only he would be Steve’s and Steve would be hid.

“Yeah? Sure you don’t want to help me study, Professor Hargrove?” Steve giggles.

Billy’s mind goes blank, mixed up between fantasy and reality, and he just stares a moment while he waits to come back online.

Steve wants to go out. He wants reassurance from his friend. Billy needs to get a damn grip before he forgets that.

Billy reaches out and grabs Steve around the neck, yanking his head to Billy’s chest. He rubs his knuckles into Steve’s scalp hard. Steve yelps and squirms, laughing in a quick bark and gasping.

“Alright, Jesus, I’ll go out with ya,” Billy growls.

Steve manages to get his arms around Billy’s chest, grappling to get away. The laptop falls to the carpet with a full thud, cutting off the frantic music.

But it’s hard to clock it over Steve’s pained groan as he finally shoves Billy away and smacks weakly at Billy’s hands.

They struggle with a moment, arms tangling. Billy can only let out a helpless laugh when Steve straddles his stomach and tries to shove his hands above his head.

“Quit it,” Steve mumbles, shoving Billy’s hands to the bed and making a helpless noise, tightening his thighs against Billy’s bucking.

“‘Professor Hargrove,’ you’re such a dick,” Billy laughs, breathless.

Steve finally pins down Billy’s wrists, one in each hand. He’s huffing on a laugh of his own and then freezes, leaned over Billy.

Steve is flushed, his hair an absolute wreck. And he’s right fucking there, and Billy wants this so bad it feels like death to be this close to it.

Steve must see something on Billy’s face because he jerks in place, body twisting. His thighs flex as he lets Billy’s wrists go and leaps off the bed, almost falling.

“So you’ll go. Um, great. We’ll… um, we’ll go on Tuesday after most of the house leaves.” Steve nods along with himself like a bobble head doll.

“Yeah,” Billy squawks. “Tuesday sounds great. I… you know what, I need to shower because I was totally sweating in my lab.”

“Yeah. Totally.” Steve turns away, looking at the door and running his hands through his hair frantically.

“Yeah.” Billy nods, rising quickly and heading to the bathroom hastily.

With the door closed, it feels like it was a dream. A wet dream.

He can’t even grapple with what just happened. Not with his skin burning with the heat of Steve’s hands. Not until after he jacks off.

As he strips off his clothes with shaking hands, he wonders if Steve knows what he’s doing. The shame of that didn’t dim the arousal. He runs his hands down his face.

He wishes he could start over, go back to the moment he walked in. Maybe just walk right in to the shower. Maybe kiss Steve and pin him down on the bed.

He wishes he wasn’t such a coward.

[piastrixpole]

ix. baku

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

genre: written

based on the 2023 season

prev/ masterlist/ next

F1 - 2023 AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE

watch now? yes | no

...loading video

april 27 2023

DRIVER GROUP 1: Sergio PEREZ (Red Bull), Lando NORRIS (Mclaren), George RUSSELL (Mercedes), Daisy SHAW (Porsche), Yuki TSUNODA (Alpha Tauri)

"We're going to start with you Yuki, how have found the April break? What have you been getting up to?"

Raising the microphone which had previously been loosely discarded in his lap, Yuki answered "Yeah, I really enjoyed the April break. Having three weeks was really nice. Definitely it felt long in terms of like the race side, but actually I still relaxed a lot and recharged myself. Still did a lot of training but we also had an extra two days in Australia, which was good after the Melbourne Grand Prix. And yeah, just now, I feel more ready compared to even the last three races. So looking forward to the races ahead. It's always nice to be back in Baku."

"Thank you for that Yuki," the host paused briefly before proceeding onto the next topic "we'll talk further about the race here in Baku in a moment but first I just want to ask you about the impending change at the top of AlphaTauri, because Franz Tost has announced that he's going to be stepping down as team principal at the end of this season. Can we get your thoughts on that?"

Yuki raises the microphone once again "It was really surprising for me, we had actually had lunch together like five days before the news came out and he didn't mention anything. But then these rumours have been flying to around the paddock since the start of the season. Still, we have another 19 races with him before he steps down so hopefully we can have a positive season and a good ending for him. Of course, we are going to need a lot of development to do that but we have a plan and I'm looking forward to it. Franz has always been very supportive of me and trusted my speed so I'm appreciative of that and hope I can show it these next races."

"And how about this weekend? You scored your first points this year in Australia, how confident are you that you can build upon that this weekend?"

Nodding thoughtfully Yuki answered "In terms of confidence, quite similar as the last three races. But I would say last two years when we see, based on the last two years with AlphaTauri is always having a quite good performance here. So I think the track itself maybe suits us more compared to the last three races hopefully. So yes, still feeling optimistic. Still will be difficult to score points but anything can happen here, especially with the new sprint qualifying format, so I'm excited."

"Thank you, Yuki. Best of luck this weekend. Checo, we'll come to you next. You're looking refreshed and ready. Enjoy the break?"

Checo is drawn out of his dissociative state "Yeah, a really good break. It felt nice to spend some time with family, with friends after these intense first three races. And yeah now looking forward to the rest of the year, and looking forward to coming back to Baku."

"We'll come on to Baku in a minute. I did just want to ask you about Melbourne quickly, and specifically the Saturday of Melbourne. Various issues that day in FP3 and qualifying. Are you concerned at all that what happened there could happen this weekend again, in Baku?"

Checo pondered his response, eyebrows furrowed "It obviously stays in the back of your mind. But you have to move on from that and start fresh. I think there were many specific issues that we had, all that day. It was a horrible day that Saturday, FP3 and Quali, really bad. But I think we understood a lot of the problems that we had. It was not just a single problem that would be really easy just to get rid of. It was a combination of a few things that caused us to have these problems. So hopefully, we don't get to see that again. You don't want to see that, especially here in Baku where there's not room for mistakes."

"Well, you had a great race, the team had a great opening three races. Do you feel that this spring break that we've just had, the four weeks off, have come at a bad time for Red Bull Racing? Do you think it's given the others an opportunity to catch up?"

"Yes, certainly, of course, when you are in a strong position, you just want to keep going and don't let others close up the gap. But of course, everyone is working flat out. And we are also doing the same. So, we're not taking anything for granted. Hopefully we're bringing some upgrades here. And hopefully we are able to keep on top."

"Best of luck this weekend, Daisy I'll come to you now. Now, it was a frustrating end for you in Australia with the team and also your teammate. We heard you get very upset on the radio after you were told to let Daniel by and lost out on the podium, have you guys talked it out?"

Daisy is visibly annoyed at the host's question "well firstly just to clear something up I wouldn't say I was 'very upset' on the radio," giving him an unimpressed look, her cadence mocking as she delivers the words "rather, just a typical upset for any driver getting unideal team orders. Of course, Australia was a solid race for the team, we brought home our highest amount of points so far this season and Daniel got our first podium of the season. I'm happy that he got his moment at his home race finally but it is a pity that I could not have been up there as well."

"Do you think that without the pit stop blunder you could have held onto that P1 spot for the rest of the race?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, only because she knew that Stella would be having a minor heart attack in the back of the room if she publicly expressed her disdain, Daisy just about managed to keep her face neutral "Yeah, I'd say so. Every driver would say the same, you have to believe you're the best if you want to get anywhere in this sport and this isn't me discrediting Max at all, but I do believe I was the better driver that day and would have finished before him if there hadn't been that problem. We had great pace all weekend, qualifying went well and we were probably the fastest car on the grid that day or at least very closely behind Redbull which was shown in the results for that weekend."

"And how are you and the team feeling about this weekend? Are you confident that you can pull off a performance similar to Australia minus the hiccups this time?"

"Baku is definitely an exciting track and a personal favourite but it's certainly not easy and very unforgiving if you make a mistake. Obviously I've only raced here once in formula 1 so far but we scored well last year and we have a car that's capable of finishing in the points every week so I'm confident that we'll have a good showing."

"Lando coming to you now. You're looking refreshed. How was the break? Did you watch the Masters? Did you go to the Masters?"

"Yes and no, no. Nope. Of course, I watched it. Silly question. But yeah, just enjoyed a nice few weeks away. Went back for Easter to see my family in Glastonbury and just the rest was spending some time with some friends between the UK and Monaco but yes, I watched the Masters. Watched the whole thing. Of course it could be Tiger's last one, so cool to see him. Sad to see him withdraw, but hats off to John, to take it away as well. But yeah, apart from that, just enjoying the time away, some sunshine and making sure we're ready for the next decent amount of races."

"Yeah, it's getting busy now isn't it. And you enter this busy period on the back of two points finishes for McLaren in Melbourne. Given that you were in the points there, you've got a significant upgrade on the car this weekend, do you feel like the team is starting to build some momentum now?"

"I don't want to get ahead of myself. I think Australia was definitely a better weekend for us, things definitely went our way a little bit more. I think we were unlucky, which made things look worse than they were in the first few races. We do have the upgrade. I think that was made clear and obvious very early on in the season. But what we have now is where we wanted to start the year, you know. It's what we should have started the year with. So, a lot of upgrades and a lot of other teams also have upgrades. So our job is to try and bring slightly bigger things and try to play a little bit of catch-up. I think what we have this weekend is just the baseline we should have started the year with, and it's about understanding what we have now. It's a better baseline. There's more room for opportunities and more room for improvements with what we have. So yeah, it's definitely going to make us take a small step forward. But to other people also bringing upgrades it's going to be slightly smaller. So, yeah, I'm excited. The team did a very good job to bring these things through and to get them ready. But it's about maximising what we have now."

"Quick word on the Sprint. Now that the Sprint has no bearing on the Grand Prix on Sunday, can we expect drivers to be more aggressive in the Sprint?"

"I would expect so. You know, there's still a budget cap. So you know, you want to damage the car in any way. You don't do anything silly. Especially for us, when we're wanting to improve the car as much as possible, the least amount of damage we can cause, the better. But I'm excited. I think it's a better format. I prefer it a long way compared to what we had before. So you have more room, more opportunities for everyone. I like the fact that you have two qualifyings. I love the format of practice, qualifying on Friday. So the pressure is definitely higher. But yeah, I enjoy it more."

"Two qualifyings: do you think that grid will look the same both times?"

"I mean, top eight cars, most likely. Alpine were very, very quick in Australia, too. So I'm expecting it. Maybe there will be some little changes here and there. But the majority will be pretty similar."

"Now George, thanks for being patient and waiting..."

Somehow Daisy had ended up in her hotel room the night before qualifying with completely unexpected company. Earlier in the day between the free practice session and sprint qualifying, Daisy had made idle chatter with Logan, Yuki, Guanyu and Oscar when she took her Mila enforced lunch break and they'd ended up in an intense debate over who the best Mario Kart player was out of the five of them. So then naturally, being the hyper competitive people they were, it had been arranged that they would all come hang out in Daisy's room once they were done with their respective teams to put their claims to the test.

The room was brimming with energy and light hearted cursing as they battled and in some cases sabotaged each other for the win. Daisy couldn't help but wonder if this was what she was missing out on all this time. Not having close friends in the sport certainly was easier but this had her questioning whether or not it was the right decision. She of course had Guanyu since last year when they joined together but they were both raging introverts at the best of times so while they enjoyed each other's company, it was nothing like this. Having other people in the mix brought them out of their shells massively.

"Who the fuck!" Daisy raged as she was hit with yet another green shell and fell to the bottom of the race order "this is so messed up, you just hate to see women winning, I swear."

It was all in good fun as she retaliated by shoving Oscar off the track when he tried lapping her causing Logan to take the lead consequently.

Yuki was all but smashing the buttons of his controller and Daisy silently pondered how exactly he hadn't broken it yet from the sheer force he handled it with. It was deeply amusing to Daisy how they were such different players but all so competitive.

"Nah mate, you were just way too obvious with it," Oscar shot back, laughter in his voice "how are you so bad at this Daisy?"

"I will literally shunt you into the wall tomorrow Oscar," she deadpanned, with the kind of neutrality in her face that even put Oscar to shame.

"For once I'm glad we're at the back of the grid," Oscar pointed out, jolting sideways as Daisy tried to sabotage him.

Daisy grinned "bold of you to assume I won't purposefully wait for you at turn one and ruin my own race just to prove a point," keeping her eyes fixated on the screen as she obtained another power-up.

Logan leaned forward, eyes also glued to the screen. "I'm not complaining. Keep knocking each other out. I'll take the win!"

"In a Williams mate? Fuck no! I'm winning a race before that happens," Yuki yelled, managing to dodge a banana peel thrown by Oscar.

"Ouch Yuki," Logan laughed "let a guy dream and be delusional in peace."

Guanyu, typically quiet, was surprisingly animated. "Logan, watch out!" he called out, launching a green shell with precise timing. It missed, but the collective gasp and subsequent laughter filled the room with an infectious joy.

"Ha!" Oscar exclaimed triumphantly with perhaps the most defined expression Daisy had ever observed from him "I win, get good."

"You only won because you took out the strongest player," Daisy rolled her eyes playfully "no chance you're winning again mate."

"Hmm I dunno, sounds like a skill issue to me right Logan?"

Daisy shot Logan a look from where he was sat beside her, the five of them so cramped in her hotel room to get a good view of the screen that their legs were brushing against each other "Logan if you still want us to be friends, think very carefully about how you answer this."

Panic briefly flashed across his face as he made eye contact with both Daisy and Oscar. "Uhh," he hesitated slowly "I think I'm gonna use my right to remain silent here guys."

"That's basically him agreeing with me," Oscar taunted Daisy with a nudge.

Rolling her eyes Daisy spat back "that doesn't mean nowt, besides I'm his new best mate, cry about it."

"Guys you're both pretty," Logan grinned, brighter than he had all evening.

Daisy winked "but obviously I'm the prettier one right..?"

As the next race started, Daisy found herself in a heated competition with Logan and Oscar, who were neck and neck for the lead. Daisy was trailing slightly behind, determined to catch up, when she noticed something peculiar.

"Logan, I hope you're not too comfortable in first,"Oscar called out, a smirk playing on his lips as he held onto a red shell.

Logan, seemingly oblivious to Oscar's intent, focused on maneuvering around a sharp turn. Daisy watched as Oscar's kart drifted dangerously close to Logan's, the red shell aimed and ready. But instead of firing it at Logan, Oscar held onto it, using it more as a threat than an actual weapon.

"What are you up to, Oscar?" Daisy asked, narrowing her eyes at the screen. She could sense something was brewing between the two.

"Just keeping things interesting," Oscar replied nonchalantly, his eyes flicking over to Logan for a split second.

Logan, catching the glance, grinned mischievously. "Oh, is that how it's going to be?" he said, picking up a green shell of his own. He drifted behind Oscar, the tension between them palpable.

As they raced through a particularly tricky section of the track, Logan made his move. He fired the green shell, but instead of hitting Oscar directly, he aimed it at a wall, causing it to ricochet unpredictably. Oscar, anticipating the move, swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding the shell as it bounced wildly across the track.

Daisy, taking advantage of the chaos, surged forward, slipping past Logan and Oscar. "Ha! Suckers!" she yelled, her laughter mingling with the frantic excitement in the room.

"Not so fast!" Logan shouted, quickly recovering and launching another attack. This time, he used a mushroom boost to close the gap between them and Oscar, who was now side by side with him. They exchanged quick glances, and a silent agreement seemed to pass between them.

In a coordinated effort, Logan bumped into Oscar, causing him to veer into Daisy's path just as she was about to hit a speed boost. The impact sent Daisy off-course, her character spinning out as Logan and Oscar zoomed ahead, laughing at their successful sabotage.

"Seriously? Teaming up against me now?" Daisy groaned, though she couldn't help but laugh at their antics. "That's low, even for you two!"

"We've always been a package deal," Oscar replied with a wink, his focus returning to the screen as he narrowly avoided a banana peel.

Logan chimed in, "Yeah, Daisy. You just gotta keep up with the pros."

Daisy and Logan were neck and neck in the final lap of the twisted mansion track track. Logan was just ahead, and Daisy was determined to overtake him. She leaned in closer to the screen, her competitive spirit blazing.

"You're going down, Sargeant," Daisy teased, her eyes flicking over to Logan briefly before focusing back on the screen. "I don't know how you got so lucky to be in front of me."

Logan shot her a quick grin. "It's not luck, Daisy. It's pure skill. But if you want, I can give you some tips after I win."

"Tips, huh?" Daisy replied, raising an eyebrow. "How about you focus on not getting hit by this red shell instead?"

She launched the red shell, and it zoomed towards Logan's kart. Logan, anticipating her move, deftly maneuvered his kart, avoiding the shell at the last second by using a carefully timed mushroom boost.

"Nice try," Logan said, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. "But it'll take more than that to beat me."

Daisy narrowed her eyes, a smirk forming on her lips. "We'll see about that."

As they approached the final stretch, Daisy's kart was right behind Logan's. She noticed Logan glancing at her from the corner of his eye, a mischievous sparkle in his gaze.

"Don't get too distracted now," Daisy quipped, her voice low and teasing. "Wouldn't want you to crash because of me."

Logan chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely distracted, but it's not going to make me crash."

With a burst of speed from a well-timed mushroom, Daisy's kart pulled up alongside Logan's. They were inches apart, the finish line just ahead.

"Ready to eat my dust?" Daisy asked, her tone challenging.

"Only if you promise to be the one cleaning it up," Logan shot back, his grin widening.

In the final seconds, both of them used their remaining items and boosts in a last-ditch effort to cross the finish line first. Daisy's kart inched ahead, crossing the line just a fraction of a second before Logan's.

"Yes!" Daisy shouted triumphantly, throwing her arms up in victory. "Take that, Logan!"

Logan laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, you got me this time. But don't get too comfortable. I'll get you in the next race."

The rest of the room erupted in cheers and playful jeers, the atmosphere filled with camaraderie and laughter. Daisy felt a warmth spread through her as she basked in the joy of the moment, the competitive banter with Logan adding an extra layer of excitement to the evening.

Yuki, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, piped up. "Hey, Logan, looks like Daisy's got your number. Maybe you should take those tips after all."

"Yeah, Logan," Daisy said, leaning closer to him with a smirk. "Maybe you should."

Logan met her gaze, his cheeks flushing slightly, but he didn't back down. "Careful, Daisy. You keep this up, and I might just have to challenge you to something else."

"Oh? Like what?" Daisy asked, her curiosity piqued.

"How about a real race?" Logan suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Guanyu laughed "in your Williams? Good luck mate, keep dreaming."

"Midfield on midfield crime," Daisy giggled "they're going to take each other out in the race

As the night went on, the playful flirting and competitive spirit between Daisy and Logan only grew stronger, adding an extra layer of fun to their impromptu Mario Kart tournament. It was a night full of laughter, friendly rivalry, and the kind of connection that made Daisy wonder why she had ever kept herself so distant from her fellow drivers in the first place.

The energy in Daisy's hotel room gradually began to wind down as it got later into the night. After several intense rounds of Mario Kart and plenty of playful banter, the drivers started to call it a night. Yuki was the first to leave, grumbling good-naturedly about Daisy's red shell attack and vowing revenge in their next game. Guanyu followed, offering a warm smile and a promise to do it again soon. Oscar, ever the instigator, left with a final jab about Logan's defeat, making Daisy chuckle.

Eventually, it was just Daisy and Logan left in the room. The atmosphere shifted slightly, from the boisterous energy of the group to a more subdued and intimate vibe. Logan was still seated on the floor, leaning back against the couch, while Daisy sat cross-legged next to him, their controllers long abandoned in front of them.

"Guess it's just us now," Logan remarked, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Seems that way," Daisy replied, her own smile mirroring his. "Thanks for sticking around. I had a lot of fun tonight."

"Me too," Logan said, his eyes meeting hers. "We should do this more often."

Daisy nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Definitely. It's nice to have this kind of downtime, especially with friends."

There was a comfortable silence between them for a moment, the kind that spoke of a growing bond and mutual understanding. Logan shifted slightly, turning to face Daisy more directly. "Did you ever feel like you didn't really belong here when you started last year?"

Unsure as to what prompted him to ask, Daisy hesitated "all the time...I didn't exactly make it any easier for myself though with the self isolation."

"It feels stupid to be bothered by it when you and some of the other guys have far more of a reason to feel that way and I know I'm just a rookie but sometimes it feels like I'm a complete outsider here...like before we became friends, Oscar was the only person I really felt comfortable with but even he's kind of pulling away now. Tonight was the first time we've properly hung out outside the track since the season started. Sorry for venting, it's probably annoying but it's just been building lately," Logan picked at the thread of his shorts, avoiding fully meeting Daisy's gaze.

Weirdly Daisy felt seen in that moment. She had connected far easier than she'd ever anticipated with Logan back in Australia but even then, she never suspected they'd be this similar. "It's not stupid to feel that way. I'm not going to lie to you Logan, it's fucking tough being on the grid when you're not apart of that really friendly inner circle or performing well. You find your people eventually though."

"Yeah, yeah I think I did," Logan admitted quietly before asking, his tone light with an undertone of genuine curiosity "So, what's the plan for tomorrow?"

Daisy sighed, stretching her legs out in front of her. "More practice, more strategy meetings. The usual race weekend grind. But after tonight, I'm feeling pretty good about it."

Logan chuckled softly. "Glad to hear it. You know, you're really something, Daisy. Balancing all this pressure and still managing to kick our asses in Mario Kart."

Daisy laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. "What can I say? I thrive under pressure. And besides, it's always fun to put you in your place."

Logan's cheeks flushed slightly, but he grinned. "I'll get you next time, don't worry."

"Sure you will," Daisy teased, leaning back against the couch and closing her eyes for a moment, savouring the peacefulness of the moment.

Logan watched her for a few seconds, then softly cleared his throat. "I should probably head out, let you get some rest. Big day tomorrow."

Daisy opened her eyes and gave him a small nod. "Yeah, you're right. But thanks for staying. I really enjoyed tonight."

Logan stood up and offered a hand to help Daisy up. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet with a gentle tug. For a moment, they stood close, and Daisy could feel the warmth of his hand lingering in hers.

"Good night, Daisy," Logan said softly, his eyes searching hers.

"Good night, Logan," Daisy replied, her voice equally soft. "See you tomorrow."

Logan gave her one last smile before turning and heading towards the door. Daisy watched him leave, feeling a mix of contentment and something she couldn't quite place. As the door closed behind him, she took a deep breath, the events of the evening playing over in her mind. She felt a new sense of connection, not just to Logan, but to all her fellow drivers who had joined her tonight.

The road into formula one had already been plagued with loneliness, maybe it didn't have to stay that way. She'd proved that she could drive, well enough to keep her seat and to drown out the sea of men on the internet who seemed to think they'd do better despite having never even sat in a kart. And she was on the verge of greatness. Australia had proved to her that she was closing in on the podium and it wouldn't be long before it was on her grasp. And Daisy intended to fight her way up to that top step.

tumblr!

🔎daisy shaw

lesbians4logan

no but something about daisy being so alone on the grid last year compared to now being close with logan and the others is so cute i could cry

#known american hater daisy shaw being so endeared by the stray anerican loser boy is so so special to me #they're my fave unconventional friendship #2023 rookies + daisy #ls2 #ds19 #op81 #21981

487 notes

daisydeeznuts

so glad people are finally waking up to the daisy agenda

#that's mother #ds19

102 notes -> reblogged by buttonshaws she's literally the unofficial adopted daughter of jenson (and fernando by default) like that's so iconic

#when war criminal babygirl and himbo babygirl combine you get cunty babygirl #facts

shawsquared

the venn diagram of inhaler fans and daisy shaw stans is a circle btw!!

#parisgate22 you will always be famous #forever thinking about the pictures of ryan and daisy backstage at Holly's show last year #and daisy putting basically their entire discography on her garage playlist the next day #they're besties your honour # i'm so deeply fond of them

652 notes

-> reblogged by daisysupremacy

EXCUSE ME!! who was going to tell me daisy and logan have a shared spotify playlist and it's PUBLIC??

#this is key lore they are so insane for this # i did not see logan being a sad girl enthusiast but it lowkey works for him #then there's daisy who's just incredibly british good for her #10/10 very on brand #at what point are we gonna give them a duo name because i am so very obsessed with them

-> reblogged by sargeants19

the way that this is basically how gay marriage works...who's gonna tell them

#logan my favourite lesbian on god #im so normal about them

daisyshawupdates

daisy's instagram stories from today

#a man??? #get away from my wife #daisyshaw #ds19

1,357 notes

                ->reblogged by scuderiadaisy guys have i gone insane or is that not Logan with her??

#i would go to war for them #fave duo #ls2 #ds19

scuderiadaisy

my girl my girl my girl my girl!

#daisy this is so sexy of you #you're doing amazing sweetie #klaus müller if you ruin her weekend again i will punt you into the sun #podium this weekend queen? #baku2023

901 notes

flowershaws

BARK BARK

i'm sooooo normal about her i swear

#serving cunt or SERVING CUNT #welcome back princess diana #the real people's princess #ds19

735 notes

🔎azerbaijan gp 2023

219NATION

logan and daisy arriving at the azerbaijan grand prix today

#she's everything #he's just ken #219 nation rise

623 notes

lecleclerc

charles first pole of the year i know that's right

gax33

now kiss

#princess george too true max #sometimes babygirl is an angry dutch driver #welcome back madmax you've been dearly missed #immovable object vs unstoppable yapper

497 notes

rosbergs

that's MY driver of the day idc what anyone else says

#p10 to p4 #thats my goat #porsche this is my personal threat if you don't resign her for next season!

260 notes

[greyjoy-girl]

Salt and Snow: Part IV

Summary: After Balon Greyjoy's uprising fails, a young Theon Greyjoy is taken to Winterfell as a ward and hostage. Within the castle's looming stone walls, he meets Lord Stark's bastard daughter, a sharp-eyed girl who seems to look straight through him. As the years pass, their shared loneliness transforms their childhood rivalry into a complicated bond forged from shared loneliness and feelings of isolation. As tensions rise in Westeros, war breaks out and Theon is pulled between Pyke and Winterfell, testing the strength of their bond.

Pairing: Theon Greyjoy x Snow! Reader

Warnings: None I can think of

Length: 1.7k words

Notes: Approaching the beginning of the books' plot now.

Masterlist

PREVIOUS PART || NEXT PART

━─━────༺Part IV༻────━─━

296 AC— Late Spring, Winterfell

There’s no grand goodbye as Lord Stark prepares to set off for Torrhen’s Square. The party is just a few men who gather by the South Gate in the early morning, preparing their horses, packs, and armor.

You don’t know why you’re there, but you sit on the well wall and watch. You pretend it’s the weather, it’s warmer than normal, it’s not often that you get weather this nice in Winterfell. Deep down, you know it’s a lie, you know you’re here to say goodbye to him.

You spot him by the stables, tightening a strap on his saddle, though you’re sure he’s already checked it at least twice. You watch him for a moment, before he looks up and meets your eyes.

You jump down from your seat and approach him, stopping a few meters short. He closes the distance.

“Try not to start any fights while you’re gone.”

He grins. “I won’t make any promises.”

You sit in a silence after that feels unfinished. Trying to break the tension, you reach into your pouch and pull out a small vial that you press into his palm. He frowns. “What’s this?”

“Oil, for your dagger. You never clean it properly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How very domestic of you. One could almost think you care about me.” He gives you a mischievous smirk, but it’s not mocking. Rather, it feels genuine.

Lord Stark calls for Theon from the gate. He mounts his horse and turns towards the gate. He pauses for a moment, looking back at you with a smile, before riding out.

You don’t watch the gate close. Not really.

═══════════════

The first few days fly by, leaving you no time to think about him. Luwin has taken more of an interest in your education and Mordane is adamant that you learn how to play the harp properly. You’re given books to read and songs to practice which keep you far too busy.

The Stark children also keep you busy Robb and Jon want you to judge their sparring matches, Arya begs you to sneak into the armory and get her a dagger, and Bran wants you to help him with his readings. Jon is more talkative than usual, and seems happy to have Robb’s attention for a while.

Still, it sneaks up on you. At night, when you lie on top of your furs, you think about how no one yells crass jokes down the hallways, the kitchen and stables are emptier, and suppers feel more serious. You feel truly lonely for the first time in years.

No snide comments. No eye-rolls. No loud bursts of laughter from the courtyard.

You read up on the Ironborn, hoping to figure him out. Maybe, if you can understand them, you’ll understand him, understand what’s really under all that bravado.

You think about how he looked as he rode off. He’s tall now, lean with broad shoulders and black hair that frames angular features. What expression was on his face look after he rode away? Was he still smiling, or did he feel as lonely as you did? Is he thinking about you from Torrhen’s Square?

You push him out of your mind, trying to focus on the chaos within Winterfell instead of the feelings you can’t deal with.

═══════════════

One grey afternoon, nearly three weeks later, the Southern Gate swings open. There are no trumpets to announce a return, only dogs barking from the kennel.

You aren’t going there to meet him. You just need to pass through the yard, and happen to take a break by the wall.

You watch him dismount his horse and toss his reins to a stablehand. He looks worse for wear, tired from travel and a purple bruise blooming on his cheek. You wonder who gave that to him. He catches sight of you, and his step seems to falter, before he picks his confident swagger and makes his way over to you.

You cock an eyebrow and look at the massive bruise. “Helman Tallhart’s son. He’s got a neck like a tree trunk,” he explains.  

“I’m sure you deserved it. You’ll be needing a salve for that, though.”

He shrugs. “I’ll survive.”

You hum a response, and smiles. “Disappointed?”

You don’t answer, turning and walking towards Luwin’s tower. He follows.

You stop under the bridge that connects the maester’s tower to the rookery, leaning against a wall in the shadows. Theon’s shoulder brushes against yours as he takes a place next to you.

“I used it,” he announces suddenly.

“Used what?”

“The oil. Blade’s still a bit dull, but it looks good now.”

You laugh. “I didn’t expect you to.”

His mouth twitches, not quite forming a full smile. “I’m full of surprises, Snow.”

You don’t answer, you just turn your head to the side and fix your eyes on him. He doesn’t say anything else, no thanks or goodbyes, he just pushes himself up off the wall and walks towards the entrance to the tower like nothing happened. You swear he walks a little slower than usual.

═══════════════

297 AC— Early Spring, Winterfell

You two don’t argue often, but when you do, it cuts.

This time, you argue about Jon.

During supper, he had made a passing comment about bastards and dogs. Something about needing to know one’s place. You don’t even remember what he said exactly, you’ve heard plenty of jokes about bastards. Jon, on the other hand, was clearly hurt. He clenched his jaw and stormed off from the table, saying nothing before he left.

After the meal, you followed Theon into the courtyard, snow beneath your boots. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you,” you hissed. “Taunting someone who never does anything to you? How brave, Prince Greyjoy.”

Theon turned, a cold sneer on his lips. “You don’t know him like you think you do. He’d leave you behind in a second if Lord Stark offered him the family name.”

You stepped forward, spitting out your response. “You think smiling at their table makes you family? Maybe you should remember your place.”

The second the words left your tongue you regretted it. Theon flinched, just barely, but he turned and walked away without another word. That hurt worse than if he had just yelled at you instead.

You two didn’t speak for a week. You’re too proud to apologize, and he’s too proud to admit you hurt him.

═══════════════

When the first frost falls on Winterfell, the ground becomes slick with mud and leaves. The days are short, and people’s tempers are shorter.

Theon hasn’t spoken to her in days, not since their argument. Every time their paths cross, the silence between them feels like a crushing weight. He spends his days sparring in the courtyard, trying to avoid looking at her. The tension between them is impossible to ignore.

He’s sitting in the maester’s tower with Bran, ignoring Luwin’s lesson on heraldry. He’s gotten this far without memorizing it, he won’t start now.

He snaps out of his daze when he hears her voice scolding someone. It’s getting closer, she must be coming up the stairs. He freezes, and looks towards the door. His eyes narrow as he sees her drag Arya through into the room. Arya is cradling her scraped forearm, red skin visible from across the chamber.

The Snow girl doesn’t immediately notice him, and he hopes she won’t. Unfortunately, her attention turns to Bran, then to him, and she freezes. She falters for a moment, before turning back to Arya and sitting her down on the bench. He can see her biting her cheek, one of her bad habits. Luwin clearly notices the awkwardness between them, shooting him an accusatory glance but not saying anything.

“You’ll be fine. Sit still, Luwin’ll patch you up.” She pulls Arya’s sleeve up around her elbow, stepping aside as Luwin hurries over to Arya. As he begins to clean her wound, she shouts. Theon, Bran and [Y/N] are quickly pushed out of the chamber so Arya can be treated in private. Bran runs down the stairs, excited that his lesson has ended early. Theon can’t share his joy.

The two of them stand at the top of the stairs, alone, neither one acknowledging the other. “You knew I was in there.” His voice isn’t harsh, rather it’s laced with the sharpness he uses when he doesn’t know what to say.

Her jaw tightens, and she hesitates before responding. “I didn’t bring her here to bother you. She scraped herself up, I brought her where the bandages are.

He gives a humorless laugh. “Convenient.”

She finally looks at him, her eyes tired. “I wasn’t trying to start anything, Theon.”

He glances over to her, and mutters, “Well, you’re good at it anyways.” She looks away again, fixing her eyes to the floor. He’s instantly filled with regret; he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

The silence that follows is long and awkward.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she looks back towards him, her voice wavering. “About you, I mean.”

Theon is taken aback by the sadness in her voice. He can see the worry in the line of her shoulders, in the tense way she carries herself when she’s trying to hold something in.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whispers, “or maybe I did. But not like that. I-I don’t know, but I shouldn’t have said it.”

He wants to tell her he doesn’t care. That it didn’t matter, that it’s fine. But he knows it’s not true. So instead, he deflects. “You could’ve just said you missed me, you know.” He doesn’t recognize his voice, it’s quiet and uncertain.

She looks at him, startled. Her eyes flicker for a moment with some strange emotion—guilt? Or maybe relief, Theon never knows. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”

Theon shrugs, but it’s a hollow gesture. “Doesn’t mean I like being ignored.”

They stand in the silence, neither one moves to leave. Eventually, he leans against the wall and crosses his arms. His voice is barely above a whisper. “We’re really shit at this, aren’t we?”

She nods, “Yeah.” Her voice is steadier now.

For the first time in days, the silence between them doesn’t feel like a punishment.

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[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

8/9/19 - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 2869>

You were sat in your seat in the stands, and you had literally paid your last cent to be there. The week before, Charles Leclerc had won in Spa, and you had booked a plane ticket, a hotel room and a seat at the Italian Grand Prix in Monza as soon as you turned the TV off.

Yes, it was only his first year with Ferrari, but you knew Charles was special, and so was this weekend. You knew he was going to do great things, and you thought this weekend was going to be one of them.

He had the whole Tifosi behind him, and the stands were like a sea of scarlet. On the formation lap, he waved to the crowd and you couldn't believe that you were actually there. Excitement fizzed in your veins and anticipation was bubbling in your chest.

They were off before you knew it, and you saw as Mercedes constantly trying to overtake him. Lewis and Valtteri were on his tail constantly, and they didn't want him anywhere near the front of the pack.

But your thoughts about him were right, he was special, and he did everything perfectly. Every move, every turn, every break and acceleration were pulled off immaculately, and having the crowd around you added to the magic even more.

They cheered every time Charles defended his position, and they were just as on edge as you were. Here they came, hurtling down the main straight, and there was silence until everyone's eyes simultaneously turned to the scoreboard, the checkered flag popping up to his name first, then Lewis and Valtteri.

Everyone jumped to their feet, screaming and cheering. The girl next to you pulled you into a hug and you had never even talked to her for the whole time you had been here. You hopped in each other's arms, unable to articulate how you truly felt.

You all had the same idea as you scrambled out of your seats and sprinted to the podium. You and the girl were holding hands as you ran there, needing to be front and center as Charles collected his trophy.

You had gotten pretty close to the front with her, and you were even more excited for this than you were for the race. Then finally, they announced your top three drivers, and Charles stood proudly on his top podium position.

The big, beaming smile on his face was priceless, and you wanted to freeze time and stay there forever. All you could see around you was the striking red of the Scuderia, and you were all desperate for the Monegasque and Italian anthems to be over.

He was handed his trophy, and he hoisted it in the air as you screamed and clapped as loud as you physically could. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and you could already feel your voice going hoarse.

Seeing him up there, shining in the sun of glory, just felt so right. It was like a King addressing his loyal people, and that was what you were. Seeing the red on the top spot of the podium was something you desperately wanted to get used to.

They were allowed to open their champagne after a while, and you were just close enough that you felt a few droplets of it splash on your face. There was confetti and champagne falling from the sky, and you could have swore you made eye contact with him for a split second.

It was just a second, not even that, but there was no mistaking those dazzling green eyes looking at you with all the joy in the world. It wasn't for you, but it might as well have been. This was officially the best day of your life, and you would remember this for the rest of your life.

Once Charles had retreated back inside, the fans were still buzzing and took a while to move with their flags and signs, giving you chance to talk to the girl who you had been holding onto for dear life for a while.

"Well hello," you smiled at her, but then immediately feared she didn't speak English. Your Italian wouldn't be enough to get by. "Hi, how are you?" she breathlessly said, taking a moment to compose herself after the madness that had just unfolded.

"I am brilliant, how are you?" you said, not releasing her hand from yours.

"I'm great, what's your name?" she smiled. She was stunning, with deep brown eyes and the most rich, chocolatey brown hair. "I'm Y/N, what about you?"

"I'm Adriana, I flew from Spain just to watch the race and it has paid off amazingly!" she giggled as the crowd slowly started to move towards the exit. "I flew from home to be here too! And I am so glad I did," you gushed, and you were still holding hands as you walked.

"I think today was the best day of my life," you muttered, everything that had happened was slowly sinking in. "Yeah, so do I," she agreed as your legs carried you aimlessly around the paddock. "Do you want to go out tonight to celebrate?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah, I think that'd be great," you said, glad to have someone to celebrate this momentous occasion with you. "I know the best places around here, I come every year," she told you.

"Where's your hotel?" You asked.

"It is just around the corner, you can come back with me, you look like the same size as me," she gushed, and you already felt like you had found a close friend while you were here. "Sounds great," you smiled, completely ignoring everything you had been told about stranger danger in the past.

You walked into Adriana's hotel room, and it was bigger than yours and had plenty of space for the two of you to get ready in. "The closet is there, pick out whatever you want," she smiled, "I'm going to do my hair," she said, retreating into the bathroom.

Adriana's clothes were beautiful, and it was hard for you to pick just one thing to wear tonight. You ended up with a curve hugging, sequin covered gold dress that made you stand out from a mile away. And that was exactly what you wanted.

"And I thought that dress looked awful on everyone, turns out I was wronger than wrong," Adriana complimented, coming out of the bathroom with her hair and makeup already done. "Thanks, your clothes are stunning,"

"I try, I try. Can I do your hair? Please," she said, gently tugging you towards the vanity mirror that had a seat in front of it. "Sure," you said, sitting down at the mirror and looking at yourself. "OK, I have an idea," she said, softly teasing your hair out of the bobble that held it in place and grabbing two pieces from the front.

She braided them and brought them together behind your head. "Can I do your makeup too?" she asked, putting her hands on your shoulders. "As long as I get to pick what you wear," you bargained, and a smile formed on her face. "Deal," she said, lunging for the makeup on the table.

Adriana didn't hold back on the gold glitter over your eyes, and a gold shimmer on top of the soft blush on your cheeks. You both opted for the red lipstick as a homage to Ferrari from your day, and you were all done.

"Dress time!" You laughed, striding over to the wardrobe and scanning your eyes over the garments that she had in there. There was only one option, and you pulled it off the hanger and threw it at her.

It was a lot like yours, but in blue and green that twisted and mixed around her body. It really suited her skin tone and darker features, and she had already done her eyes in a light blue anyway, so the dress matched perfectly.

After some time, you were both ready and she lead you to the club you'd be celebrating at. The strobe lights fazed across the room as they moved over the grinding bodies of people dancing to the loud music.

"Dance with me chica!" Adriana yelled, dragging you into the mass of bodies and pulling you against her. Eventually, you had danced to the other side of the crowd and were on the edge of the dancefloor.

You couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes tracing up and down your figure as you swayed your hips to the music. You turned, but all you could see was the red rope that forbade people from going into the VIP section without access.

"I'm going to get a drink!" You yelled to Adriana, untangling yourself from the hoarde and making your way to the bar. Just as you could finally catch one of the bartenders eyes, the other bartender handed you what looked like a mojito.

"Sorry, I didn't order this," you said, pushing it back towards him.

"From the gentleman over there," he said, pointing you in the direction of a guy at the other end of the bar. He waved as you looked at him, but you couldn't make out his features. You held your glass up as a cheers, before taking a sip. You pointed over to the corner so that he knew where you'd be, and you went to sit down for a second.

You could already feel your skin feeling sticky with sweat as the club was boiling. Loads of bodies mashed together, respiring to keep going. Someone sat down in front of you, and you were slightly disappointed to see Adriana, a drink in her hand. "Let's raise a glass to Ferrari on three Y/N!" She shouted, getting ready to cheers. "3,2,1,"

"He won in Spa, he wins in Monza!" You both chanted, people casting you glances of confusion. Yet again, you felt a pair of eyes lingering on you, but you turned to see nothing but the shadowy figures in the VIP section. One of them raised a hand and sent a wave towards you, and the figure was the same one as at the bar.

You waved back, and this caught Adriana's attention. "Oooh, someone caught your eye?" She smirked.

"Just some guy who bought me a drink, he's through there somewhere," you said, pointing over to the VIP section.

"You wanna dance again? He might come to see you," she giggled, finishing off her drink as she stood from her seat. You nodded, finishing off your mojito as you shot a cheeky wink into the VIP section, having a feeling that he was watching you.

You danced with Adriana, laughing as you playfully grabbed each others hips. You had only known her for a few hours, but it felt like you had known her for years. Suddenly, she stopped moving completely and her eyes grew wide in surprise.

You felt a pair of hands firmly grip your waist and pull you back against the owner's chest. "Give yourself a minute, because I think you'll die," Adriana leant forward and whisper-shouted in your ear. She danced away through the crowd as you carried on swaying with the stranger.

The suspense would kill you if you waited any longer, so you turned around in the stranger's grip. You couldn't believe your eyes and your heart stopped thumping in your chest, the only vibrations pulsing through you being the drum of the bass in the music.

"You do like mojitos, right?" He smirked that dazzling smile and gazed at you with those emerald eyes you had seen directly in yours for a millisecond earlier that day. You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. "Yeah, I do," you spluttered, tentatively placing your hand on either shoulder.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" He asked, pulling your arms over his shoulders so your forearms rested on his shoulders. This felt more natural as you felt his hands slightly shift on your waist. You could feel the warmth of him through the fabric of your dress. "I'm Y/N," you stuttered, trying to snap out of the stupor that was convincing you that he was stood here, dancing with you.

"Well Y/N, I'm Charles and you are absolutely stunning," he smiled, pulling you as close as you could. "What would you say if I asked you and your friend to come and spend some time with me and my friends?" He asked, and you could tell he was just asking. It didn't feel like he was trying to pressure you, and he wouldn't take it personally if you said no.

There was no chance in hell that you were saying no.

"Yeah, sounds great. I'll go get her," you said, and you saw that smile again. And you had put that on his face. You had. And that feeling was unlike anything else.

"OK, come straight through, we're the only ones in there. They guys will let you in. We'll see you in a bit,"  he said, winking at you. You nearly melted on the spot and you still couldn't believe it was happening. "Oh my fucking god Y/N!" Adriana screamed, shaking your shoulders, "That was Charles Leclerc! He just danced with you,"

"And we're going to the VIP section with him and his friends!" You screamed, the two of you squealing and jumping up and down. You grabbed her hand and dragged her through to the red rope. "Sorry ladies, no passes, no entry," the burly bouncer said, stepping in your way. Adriana looked at you in panic, but you had already spotted your knight in shining armour coming to your rescue.

"Hey, they're with me," Charles said, unclipping the rope and standing aside for you. "Ladies first," he said, letting you through.

"Thank you," you smiled, walking through as he slung an arm around your shoulder. There was a dance floor in the VIP section, but it only had a few of Charles' friends on it. "Can I get a drink for you lovely ladies?" One of Charles' friends came over to you.

"I'll come with you," Adriana said, latching onto the blonde guy's arm.

"I'll get you a drink in a bit, but do you want to dance?" Charles asked, moving his arm from your shoulder to your waist. His touch was like electricity and there were sparks every time his fingertips brushed over your skin. "You think I'm going to say no?" You laughed, taking his hand and pulling him there quicker.

"I hoped you wouldn't," he said, pulling you in close again. His fingers trailed over your waist and down to your hips as they roamed your body. The music was quieter here, so it allowed you to think better.

You had seen him earlier, celebrating a win that would go down in the history books as one of the greatest, and now you were here, dancing with him with his hands on you. "Could I just," he started, leaning down. 

He didn't need to finish his request, you already knew what he wanted, and you were happy to give it to him. You closed the gap between your lips, and his were soft, gentle. You wanted to pinch yourself, just to make sure this wasn't some dream.

But when you pulled back and saw the look in his eyes, you knew you weren't dreaming. It was like your hearts beat to the same drum. His eyes flitted around your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or unwillingness.

Instead, he was met with a huge, insuppressible grin. He dove back in again, with more hunger, with more passion as you tangled your fingers in his hair. "Come back with me?" He asked, and it sounded more like he was pleading with you. 

"Let me tell Adriana I'm going, OK?" You nodded, and he let you go without a second thought. It had only just dawned on his where he recognised you from. He had seen you at the race. That meant you already knew who he was.

Well, he should have guessed that by the reaction he received from you when you first saw him. It was something about the bright scarlet on your lips that made him crazy. 

"Hey Adriana? I'm going back with Charles now," you told her, finding her draped over Charles' blonde friend. She had a dazed look on her face, and you could tell they were both drunk out of their minds. "I'll text you tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah, enjoy," she giggled, winking at you. "Hey, Y/N, what day is it?" she slurred, obviously not in the state of mind to be asking normal questions. You glanced over to the door, where you saw Charles. 

He was leant against the wall, his crisp shirt slightly wrinkled and his jacket slung over his shoulder. You still couldn't believe he was there, and you were going home with him. He smiled that smile that could melt your heart in an instant, and you thanked your lucky stars.

Someone was certainly watching out for you that night. 

You pulled your phone out of your bag, and you couldn't help but smile as you saw the 8/9/19 at the top. "This is the best day of my life,"

A/N - Mercedes threw everything at him, Charles Leclerc has coped brilliantly! HE WON IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA! CHARLES LECLERC HAS WON THE 2019 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!

Yes, that was the best day of my life.

(P.S Suggestions are open 💖)

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