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reasonsforhope · 4 months ago

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Pictured: Luis Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat. He's photographed at his house, which has a green roof.

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"Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat without overloading electrical grids or spending money on fans and air conditioners. He came across the concept over a decade ago while researching how to make his own home bearable during a particularly scorching summer in Rio.

A method that's been around for thousands of years and that was perfected in Germany in the 1960s and 1970s, green roofs weren't uncommon in more affluent neighborhoods when Cassiano first heard about them. But in Rio's more than 1,000 low-income favelas, their high cost and heavy weight meant they weren't even considered a possibility.

That is, until Cassiano decided to team up with a civil engineer who was looking at green roofs as part of his doctoral thesis to figure out a way to make them both safe and affordable for favela residents. Over the next 10 years, his nonprofit was born and green roofs started popping up around the Parque Arará community, on everything from homes and day care centers, to bus stops and food trucks.

When Gomes da Silva heard the story of Teto Verde Favela, he decided then and there that he wanted his home to be the group's next project, not just to cool his own home, but to spread the word to his neighbors about how green roofs could benefit their community and others like it.

Pictured: Jessica Tapre repairs a green roof in a bus stop in Benfica, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Relief for a heat island

Like many low-income urban communities, Parque Arará is considered a heat island, an area without greenery that is more likely to suffer from extreme heat. A 2015 study from the Federal Rural University of Rio de Janeiro showed a 36-degree difference in land surface temperatures between the city's warmest neighborhoods and nearby vegetated areas. It also found that land surface temperatures in Rio's heat islands had increased by 3 degrees over the previous decade.

That kind of extreme heat can weigh heavily on human health, causing increased rates of dehydration and heat stroke; exacerbating chronic health conditions, like respiratory disorders; impacting brain function; and, ultimately, leading to death.

But with green roofs, less heat is absorbed than with other low-cost roofing materials common in favelas, such as asbestos tiles and corrugated steel sheets, which conduct extreme heat. The sustainable infrastructure also allows for evapotranspiration, a process in which plant roots absorb water and release it as vapor through their leaves, cooling the air in a similar way as sweating does for humans.

The plant-covered roofs can also dampen noise pollution, improve building energy efficiency, prevent flooding by reducing storm water runoff and ease anxiety.

"Just being able to see the greenery is good for mental health," says Marcelo Kozmhinsky, an agronomic engineer in Recife who specializes in sustainable landscaping. "Green roofs have so many positive effects on overall well-being and can be built to so many different specifications. There really are endless possibilities.""

Pictured: Summer heat has been known to melt water tanks during the summer in Rio, which runs from December to March. Pictured is the water tank at Luis Cassiano's house. He covered the tank with bidim, a lightweight material conducive for plantings that will keep things cool.

A lightweight solution

But the several layers required for traditional green roofs — each with its own purpose, like insulation or drainage — can make them quite heavy.

For favelas like Parque Arará, that can be a problem.

"When the elite build, they plan," says Cassiano. "They already consider putting green roofs on new buildings, and old buildings are built to code. But not in the favela. Everything here is low-cost and goes up any way it can."

Without the oversight of engineers or architects, and made with everything from wood scraps and daub, to bricks and cinder blocks, construction in favelas can't necessarily bear the weight of all the layers of a conventional green roof.

That's where the bidim comes in. Lightweight and conducive to plant growth — the roofs are hydroponic, so no soil is needed — it was the perfect material to make green roofs possible in Parque Arará. (Cassiano reiterates that safety comes first with any green roof he helps build. An engineer or architect is always consulted before Teto Verde Favela starts a project.)

And it was cheap. Because of the bidim and the vinyl sheets used as waterproof screening (as opposed to the traditional asphalt blanket), Cassiano's green roofs cost just 5 Brazilian reais, or $1, per square foot. A conventional green roof can cost as much as 53 Brazilian reais, or $11, for the same amount of space.

"It's about making something that has such important health and social benefits possible for everyone," says Ananda Stroke, an environmental engineering student at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro who volunteers with Teto Verde Favela. "Everyone deserves to have access to green roofs, especially people who live in heat islands. They're the ones who need them the most." ...

It hasn't been long since Cassiano and the volunteers helped put the green roof on his house, but he can already feel the difference. It's similar, says Gomes da Silva, to the green roof-covered moto-taxi stand where he sometimes waits for a ride.

"It used to be unbearable when it was really hot out," he says. "But now it's cool enough that I can relax. Now I can breathe again."

-via NPR, January 25, 2025

#architecture #sustainable architecture #heat islands #urban heat #brazil #brasil #south america #favela #rio de janeiro #green roof #plants #climate action #climate adaptation #infrastructure #good news #hope #solarpunk

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kunikisss · 1 year ago

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i just spent like. 2 hours maybe? (idk time isn't real to me anymore) helping my grandpa edit a letter to a government official. i was bored out of my MIND dude the last ~35 minutes felt like straight up TORTURE. (ily grandpa) and i am so SO exhausted from it,,,, moral of the story i realized i could never have a full time office job. it wouldn't end well

#the killer tbilisi summer heat and dehydration and not having eaten for a while also contributed to me feeling like i was gonna #straight up die but. still #every couple of minutes i would hear a motorcycle's engine revving and it would snap me out of a zoned out state LMAO #im hungry

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amirasainz · 7 months ago

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heyy,

Could i please request an F1 grid x driver reader where its a really hot race and the reader is struggling to keep racing put keeps pushing forward to finish it, and ends up completely exhausted and collapsing, and all the drivers start being really protective towards the reader and act like mother hens

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

The Heat of Qatar

The Qatari Grand Prix was brutal. The desert heat seemed to radiate through every layer of the circuit, and the night race provided little relief. Despite the floodlights, the air felt heavy, humid, and unrelenting. For Y/N, just 18 years old and in her first season with Red Bull Racing, this was her toughest challenge yet. A bright young talent with nerves of steel, she’d handled every twist and turn of the track that day like a pro. But by the time she pulled into parc fermé, her body was at its limit.

As she climbed out of her RB, her legs trembled. She grabbed onto the side of the car for balance but barely had time to steady herself before her vision blurred. The cheers of the crowd and the hum of engines faded into the background as her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the asphalt.

---

“Y/N!” Charles sharp voice was the first to cut through the chaos. He was out of his Ferrari in seconds, sprinting toward her as she crumpled.

Carlos, who had been taking a swig of water, dropped his bottle and ran to help. “Y/N! Are you okay?!” His voice was tinged with panic.

Max jumped out of his car, cursing under his breath. “Bloody hell, what happened?” His piercing blue eyes scanned her pale, sweat-drenched face as he crouched beside her.

By now, nearly all the drivers had abandoned their debriefs to surround her. Lando and Oscar exchanged worried glances, already flagging down the medics, while Lewis and George pushed through the cluster to make sure she had space to breathe.

“Move, give her air!” Lewis ordered, his voice firm but calm.

---

The medics arrived quickly, but the drivers were relentless in their concern. “We’ll handle this,” Carlos said, almost shooing one of the medics away. “We’ve got it.”

Charles was already cradling Y/N’s head, his hand gently brushing her damp hair away from her face. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his voice soft as he tried to soothe her unconscious form.

Lando crouched beside them, looking at the medics. “What do we do? Is it dehydration? Heatstroke? What’s going on?”

Oscar, his normally calm demeanor cracking, added, “Should we get her more water? Electrolytes? Do you have an IV?”

“Let them work,” Max snapped, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He was kneeling next to Y/N, holding a water bottle and unscrewing the cap. “When she wakes up, she’s drinking this. No arguments.”

---

They carried her carefully to the medical center, with Carlos holding her legs and Charles supporting her upper body. Lewis draped his cooling towel over her forehead, muttering, “This will help with the heat.”

Once inside, the doctors began their evaluation, but the drivers were relentless. They hovered like a pack of mother hens, ignoring all instructions to leave.

“Honestly, we’re making sure she’s okay,” Carlos argued when one of the medics suggested they step outside. He was kneeling by her side, dabbing her neck with a fresh cold towel. “She’s part of this family.”

Max handed the water bottle to Y/N, who was slowly regaining consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked at the concerned faces surrounding her.

“Max?” she croaked, her throat dry.

“Drink this,” he instructed, his tone softer than usual. He held the bottle up to her lips and coaxed her into taking small sips. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Charles exhaled a sigh of relief, his hand still in her hair. “You’re okay. Just rest. We’ve got you.”

“Y/N, don’t ever do that again,” Carlos said, his voice trembling slightly. He patted her shoulder and then her neck again with the towel, as if unable to stop himself.

Lewis, who had been standing back, approached with a blanket. “She’s sweating too much—her body might go into shock.” He draped the blanket over her with care, ensuring it didn’t overwhelm her.

“I feel… dizzy,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Oscar, visibly distressed, turned to one of the medics. “What else can we do? What’s the protocol for this?”

“You’re doing everything right,” the medic assured him. “She needs fluids, rest, and time.”

---

The drivers took that to heart. Lando knelt down beside her, his brow furrowed. “Y/N, just focus on breathing, okay? Deep breaths. You’re tough. You’ve got this.”

Oscar added, “You’re the strongest person we know. This is just a bad moment.”

“Yeah,” Max interjected, trying to lighten the mood. “If you can survive working with Christian, you can survive this.”

That earned a faint smile from Y/N, which sent a wave of relief through the group.

Charles continued stroking her hair, his touch gentle. “If you need anything—anything at all—we’re here.”

Carlos, who hadn’t left her side, was now holding her hand. “You’ve been incredible today. The heat got to all of us. Don’t blame yourself.”

Lewis adjusted the blanket slightly. “Your body’s just telling you it needs a break. Listen to it.”

Y/N’s voice was barely audible, but she managed a quiet, “Thank you… all of you.”

---

They stayed with her for hours, refusing to leave until they were certain she was stable. Eventually, Christian Horner and the team staff arrived, but even then, the drivers lingered, their protectiveness unwavering.

As they filed out one by one, Max leaned down and whispered, “Next time, don’t push yourself this hard, okay snoepje? We need you out there—alive.”

Charles, the last to leave, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Rest, Y/N. You’ve earned it.”

Though exhausted, Y/N felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sweltering Qatari night. Her family on the grid had her back, no matter what.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #oscar x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋

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pucksandpower · 2 years ago

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hiii! with the chaos that was today’s career, could I request one with driver reader that she started telling her team that she wasn’t feeling good but still wanted to continue but the next moment she isn’t answering her radio because she fainted in the car and the car goes out, the marshals take her out of the car and she doesn’t wake up, maybe she has extreme dehydration and is hot to touch, etc.

How the other drivers react when they found out, her team, etc.

Thank you

Too Hot To Handle

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: the Qatar Grand Prix pushed every driver to the limit … and some past the limit

Warnings: heat stroke, dehydration, crash, medical conditions

The Lusail International Circuit hums with electric anticipation, its asphalt ribbon shimmering under the floodlights. The roar of the crowd fills the night but the oppressive heat weighs on everyone, creating a contrasting atmosphere of excitement and cautious apprehension.

Standing alongside your Red Bull Racing car, you wipe a bead of sweat from your brow. In only your first year with the reigning double champions, you already have a record that has quickly become the talk of the paddock. But for all the praise and whispers, there is one voice that stands out.

“Remember, liefje, it’s not just about speed tonight. Keep hydrated, alright?” Max’s voice is full of warmth and concern. His hand rests gently on your arm.

You flash him a confident smile even though you’re battling your nerves internally. “I’ve raced in heat before, Maxie. I won in Singapore. I’ll be fine.”

He pulls you into a quick embrace, the temperature doing little to dampen the spark between you. “It’s different here. This heat ... it’s like nothing I’ve ever raced in before.”

Pulling back, you raise an eyebrow teasingly. “You worried about me, Verstappen?”

He laughs but there’s a hint of steely seriousness in his blue eyes. “Always. Just ... promise me you’ll be careful out there. For both our sakes.”

You nod, touching your helmet to his. “Promise.”

The intercom in your ear crackles to life. “Drivers, to your cars!”

You both exchange a final glance. Racing is in your blood, it’s what brought you together, but it also keeps you apart, if only for the few hours you’re no longer partners in life but competitors on track.

Sliding into your car, you secure your helmet and gloves. The world outside becomes a bit muffled but your focus sharpens. The engine’s purr is a familiar comfort, but tonight, it’s edged with the unease Max’s words left behind.

Your race engineer, Hugh Bird, checks in over the radio, “Everything good, Y/N?”

You take a deep breath, “As good as it’ll ever be. Let’s light up this track.”

“Give them a show.”

Lights out and away we go.

***

The Qatar Grand Prix unfolds with its usual mix of intensity and skill, drivers navigating tight turns and overtaking with precision. But beneath the spectacle, a subtle tension mounts. The oppressive heat, the stark floodlights, and the weight of expectation — all of it seems to be building to something.

In the garage and on the pit wall, your team closely monitors the race and your performance. Hugh occasionally chimes in with updates, “You’re doing great, Y/N. Remember to hydrate whenever you need to.”

You nod even though he can’t see it, “Understood. The heat’s something else in here.”

A pause. Then, “Just keep stead. And Max told GP to tell me to tell you to remember what he said.”

A smile touches your lips, “I always do.”

***

The track is a blur as you push your car to its limits, feeling the adrenaline surge in tandem with the roar of the engines. It’s as if the heat has seeped into your very core, burning with intensity. Each lap feels slightly longer, every turn a tad sharper, as the humid air takes its toll.

“Y/N,” Hugh radioes through, sounding distant and slightly distorted by the pounding in your head, “you’re P2. Great pace. Remember to sip some water.”

A trickle of sweat runs down the side of your face, stinging your eye. Blinking rapidly, you reach for the button that activates your hydration system.

“Got it,” your voice sounds foreign even to your own ears. The water is lukewarm and tastes metallic, not as refreshing as you had hoped.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges.

With every lap, the world outside your visor seems to grow brighter, the floodlights shimmering like mirages in a desert. The race has become a battle, not just against other drivers but against the environment and, increasingly, against yourself.

“You’re dropping pace. Is everything alright?” Hugh’s concerned voice crackles through.

A knot tightens in your stomach. “I don’t know. I ...” You trail off, the words catching in your throat as a wave of overwhelming dizziness hits.

You can hear the alarm in your engineer’s voice becoming more pronounced. “Y/N, talk to me. Do we need to pit?”

The heat wraps around you, constricting, making it difficult to breathe. Your hands, slick with sweat, struggle to grip the wheel even through your gloves. “Guys ... I don’t ... feel ...” The world spins and your words falters.

“Y/N? Y/N, talk to me!”

But before you can respond, before you can even finish your sentence, the world tilts and blurs into an incomprehensible whirlwind. The sweltering heat, the relentless pursuit of victory, and the weight of expectation converge into a maelstrom that engulfs you entirely.

Your hands, once deftly steering the RB19, now hang limply by your sides. The car veers off the track, careening towards the barriers. Panic rises in you but it’s too late. Your body refuses to act.

The deafening sound of metal against metal fills your ears, followed by the nauseating sensation of impact. The world outside your cockpit twists and spins, a kaleidoscope of colors and chaos. Then, abruptly, it all goes dark.

In the garage, your team watches in horror as the monitors show the violent crash. The radio falls silent, the connection severed. In that heartbeat, the world goes eerily quiet, punctuated only by the distant echoes of screeching tires and the blaring alarms.

Moments pass like hours and finally the static on the radio clears, replaced by your frantic race engineer, “—please respond. Y/N? Are you okay?”

But there’s no response. Your world remains shrouded in darkness as the circuit comes to a standstill, gripped by an eerie silence that drowns out even the most deafening of cheers.

The track is plunged into chaos. Red flags wave fervently, signaling danger. Marshals rush towards your wrecked car, their fluorescent jackets contrasting brightly against the night.

“Get her out! Get her out!” One of the marshals shouts as they reach your car. Your limp form is carefully extracted and they begin immediate first aid. The severity of the situation is clear — the heat, the dehydration, it’s all taken its toll.

The crowd watches, a collective gasp filling the air soon replaced by a thick, heavy silence. As your unconscious form is stretchered away, the weight of all those warnings crashes down.

Back on the pit wall, four words whispered into the radio are the first of many about to turn your boyfriend’s world upside down.

“Safety car, safety car.”

***

“Max, we’re pitting this lap. Box, box,” the calm, steady voice of Gianpiero Lambiase, Max’s race engineer, instructs over the radio.

Max’s voice is curt, his mind still on the race. “Why? Tires feel fine.”

“Non-negotiable. Safety car is out. We need you to pit now.”

The urgency in GP’s voice is not lost on Max and he immediately senses that something is wrong. “What happened? Why is there a safety car?”

Silence follows for a heartbeat too long. “There was an incident. Just focus on your race.”

An icy dread seeps into Max’s bones. The circuit is massive yet his world feels terribly small at this moment. “Who was it? Who crashed?”

His engineer hesitates, and in that pause, the weight of a thousand possibilities presses on Max.

“Who. Was. It?”

GP wavers, “It’s … Y/N.”

Max’s breathing becomes ragged. Panic and fear flood his system. “Why the hell wasn’t I told immediately?”

“It was team orders. The decision was made to keep you focused on the race.”

Max laughs but it lacks any humor. “Team orders? You’re saying Christian decided not to tell me that Y/N ... my Y/N is hurt?”

“Yes,” the reply is uncharacteristically soft, “It was believed to be in everyone’s best interest for you to be fully focused on the race.”

Max has never felt such white-hot rage. He spits into the radio, seething with fury and pain. “You tell Christian that if he ever makes a decision like that again about someone I love, I’ll cut his balls off with a rusty spoon.”

“Max, I understand you’re upset. But right now, we need you to stay focused.”

Stay focused? When the love of his life is in potential danger? The weight of what that means presses down, threatening to crush him. “I need to see her,” he finally rasps out, voice breaking.

The plea hangs in the air, met by another long silence. Finally, the radio clicks on again, softer than ever. “Y/N would want you to finish. You know that. Win this for her.”

Tears blur Max’s vision, mixing with the sweat already pooling in his helmet, but he nods, a silent assent. The roaring engine now sounds distant, the glinting lights a backdrop to the storm that rages within him. Every second is an eternity, every turn a test of his resolve to keep racing. But Max drives on, pushing his limits for you.

Every fiber of his being silently screams your name, a prayer or a promise or both, Max doesn’t know. All he knows is that the faster he crosses the finish line, the sooner he can be with you.

For the world watching, the race continues, cars whizzing by. But for Max Verstappen, each lap, each second, is a race against his own heart, torn between duty and desperate love.

***

“Her pulse is erratic! Get the defibrillator ready!” A medic shouts as the emergency team frantically works around you, the ambulance parked haphazardly nearby.

Another voice, calmer but filled with urgency, counters, “Wait, give her a moment. She might come around.”

“Come on, Y/N,” A young medic mutters, pressing an oxygen mask to your face. “Don’t do this.”

The ambulance door opens again, the head medic speaking into a radio, “We need an airlift, now. The situation’s deteriorating rapidly.”

Another voice, muffled, replies, “The helicopter’s on its way! Clear the area.”

As the medics continue to administer aid, working desperately to stabilize you, the chief medic tries to maintain order, “Every second counts. This heat stroke is severe, coupled with dehydration ... it’s a nightmare scenario.”

“We should have had more cooling stations,” the younger medic mutters. “The humidity coupled with the heat ... it’s brutal tonight. And we’re not even the ones out there driving.”

The older medic takes a deep breath. “That is on the organizations. We can’t fix there mistakes but we can focus on what happening now and do everything we can to get her through this.”

The thrum of helicopter blades soon overwhelms the noise of the circuit, growing louder as it approaches. Soon, the bright light from its landing spotlight punctuates the night. “The helicopter’s here!” Someone shouts.

“Alright, team, on three,” the chief medic commands. They work in perfect sync, lifting you carefully but quickly, your body still unresponsive.

As they approach the helicopter, the pilot shouts over the roar, “We’ve got the best onboard. She’s in good hands.”

“She’s one of our best,” the younger medic shouts back. “She has to be okay.”

The chief medic, securing you inside, murmurs more to himself than anyone else, “Come on, Y/N. The race isn’t over. Keep fighting.”

***

“You expect me to smile and stand on that podium knowing she’s been airlifted to a hospital?” Max’s voice trembles with rage as he confronts the FIA officials blocking his way.

“Mr. Verstappen, there are rules, procedures,” an official replies stiffly.

“Rules? Y/N might be fighting for her life right now and you want to talk to me about rules?” Max’s hands clench and unclench as he physically holds himself back from throwing a punch.

Another official steps forward, trying to mediate, “Max, we understand your feelings but millions of viewers are watching. The podium is an essential part of the race.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger. “You think I care about a trophy when my girlfriend is in a hospital? Do you really think that piece of metal means anything to me right now?”

“We sympathize— ” the first official begins but is cut off by Max’s heated response.

“You sympathize? Do you even know what that word means?” He’s on the verge of breaking, voice barely above a whisper as he continues, “She is everything to me. Everything. And you want me to smile and wave for the cameras?”

The air grows thick with tension. The two drivers from McLaren waiting for their cue to go to the podium are silent, their eyes darting between Max and the officials.

A new voice interjects , “Let him go.”

It’s Lewis Hamilton, who despite DNFing early in the race, made his way across the paddock after seeing the distress on his rival’s face. “There are things more important than a ceremony.”

The officials exchange glances, clearly not expecting this intervention. But before they can reply, Max levels them with a final scathing look. “Fine me if you must! Penalize me! Suspend me for all I care! But I am going to her.”

And off he goes.

***

A nurse at the desk recognizes Max immediately when he runs into the hospital. “Mr. Verstappen,” she begins hesitantly, “Miss Y/L/N is in the ICU. Room 302.”

He doesn’t need any further prompting to sprint down the hall. Reaching the room, he stops dead in his tracks. You’re there, surrounded by machines that beep and whirr, tubes running to and from you, an oxygen mask on your face. The sight of you, once so full of life, now frail and vulnerable, breaks him.

His voice, when he finally managed to finds it, is a choked whisper, “Y/N ...”

Approaching the bedside, Max gently takes your hand, feeling its clamminess. “Hey, liefje ... it’s me,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. His tears fall freely, wetting the back of your hand.

“Come on, love,” his voice cracks as he continues, “You’ve got to pull through this. For us.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tracing the familiar curves and lines he’s come to adore. “Remember that time in Monaco? When we snuck out for that secret dinner that our trainers would have killed us for? We promised each other forever that night. You can’t leave me now. Not when we’ve got so many more memories left to make.”

The room’s silence is punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor in a cruel reminder of the fragility of the moment.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs. “Please ... please come back to me.”

Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours, allowing the weight of his anguish, love, and hope to flow between the two of you in the sterile room.

***

Nothing has changed. The steady beep of the heart monitor still punctuates the silence of the hospital room. Max sits vigilantly at your bedside, his hand gently clasping yours.

It’s been three days since the crash and you still have not woken up. The doctors say your condition is stable but uncertain.

Max leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Morning, liefje. I’m still here. Not going anywhere.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle as if you might break. In the stark hospital lighting, the dark circles under his eyes are visible. Sleep hasn’t come easy to him, not with you lying here.

A soft knock at the door draws Max’s attention. Hugh pokes his head in hesitantly. “Hey, Max. Any change?”

Max shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Nothing yet. But she’s fighting. I know she is.”

Your race engineer steps further into the room, his expression solemn. “I should have seen the signs earlier. Pushed her to hydrate more. Slowed her pace.” His voice catches, “It was my job to look out for her.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Max says firmly. “Y/N is stubborn. We both know that. She wanted to prove herself.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “It’s what makes her brilliant.”

Hugh pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. For a moment, the two men sit in pensive silence. Then your race engineer speaks again, softer this time. “Has she ... has she responded at all? Squeezed your hand or anything?”

Max clenches his jaw and stares past Hugh at the blank wall. “No. Nothing yet. But I know she can hear me. I tell her about training, the team ... I update her on everything. She’ll want to jump right back in when she wakes up.”

Footsteps approach and a nurse enters, checking the equipment and your vitals. After making some notes on a chart, she offers an encouraging smile. “No change but she seems stable. Just keep talking to her. Familiar voices help.”

After she departs, Hugh leans forward, clasping your still hand. “Hear that, Y/N? You’ve got to wake up. The team needs you. Your fans are all rooting for you. And ...” His voice cracks. “I need my driver back.”

Max looks at him gratefully. “We all need her back.” Reaching out, he gives your race engineer’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Another knock sounds. This time, it’s Christian. His face is etched with guilt and worry. “Max. Any improvement today?”

Max’s expression hardens. He hasn’t forgotten Christian’s decision to withhold news of your crash. But his voice remains even as he responds to the team principal. “Nothing new.”

Christian pulls up a chair next to Hugh. He chooses his next words carefully. “Max, I need to apologize. I made the wrong call that night. You deserved to know immediately about Y/N. My priorities were skewed.” His voice shakes slightly. “Seeing her like this ... I would give anything to go back and change what I did.”

Max studies him for a long moment and some of the hardness leaves his eyes. “I appreciate that. But right now, the past doesn’t matter. All that matters is her getting better.”

Christian nods. Reaching out, he gently smoothes your hair. “You hear that, Y/N? We’re all here for you. Your whole team. Now you need to come back to us.”

A heavy silence settles on the room once more. The three of them remain clustered around the bed … keeping vigil … willing you to show any small sign of recovery.

After some time passes, the ringing of Hugh’s phone snaps the three men out of their thoughts. “Sorry to interrupt,” your press officer’s voice filters through the speaker, “but the team’s on the line. They want to send their well wishes to Y/N.”

Hugh glances at Max questioningly who nods, “Patch them through. Let the whole team remind her why she needs to wake up.”

A smile tugs at your race engineer’s lips. “You got it. Go ahead, team. She can hear you.”

A chorus of voices floods the room. Your mechanics, pit crew, strategists, PR team … everyone chimes in with encouraging messages.

“Come on, Y/N! We need our star girl back on the grid.”

“You can do this, kid. You’re the toughest one out there!”

“We all believe in you. Keep fighting!”

Max grips your hand tighter, emotions threatening to spill over. Even Christian and Hugh have sheens of tears in their eyes.

“Alright,” your race engineer says after the team signs off. “You heard them. Time to wake up.”

And that’s when Max feels it. A short, weak squeeze of his hand.

Then your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Y/N?” Max leaps to his feet, leaning over you anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Slowly, painfully, your eyes open, taking in the scene around you. Confusion clouds your expression. “M-Max?” You rasp.

A brilliant smile breaks across Max’s face. Relief floods through him so powerful that his knees nearly buckle as he chokes out, “Yes, yes it’s me! You’re back, liefje. You’re really back.”

Hugh lets out a shaky laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Welcome back, superstar.”

You try to speak again but Max hushes you gently. “Save your strength. We’ve got all the time in the world to talk.”

Christian grins, looking years younger. “Oh thank god. I need to tell the team. They’ll be thrilled. Welcome back, Y/N.” He hurries from the room, phone already in hand.

Your race engineer squeezes your shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

As he and the nurse move discreetly out of the room, you gaze up at Max. “You ... you stayed.”

Max lifts your hand to his lips, blinking back tears. “Of course I stayed. I’ll always stay by your side.”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your chapped ones. All the fear, the uncertainty, the heartache of the past few days melts away.

You’re back. You’re really back. And Max knows, without a shred of doubt, that your lives from this day on will be greater and more meaningful than all your wildest dreams.

***

In the following days, drivers from across the grid make the pilgrimage to your hospital room. They come bearing gifts — flowers, balloons, even a nearly life-size plush race car. But more importantly, they come bearing a message.

“That race should never have happened,” Lewis says solemnly, handing you a get-well card covered in signatures. “The heat was dangerous. We should have acted sooner.”

Esteban grips your hand tightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We should have spoken up about the conditions sooner. We all suffered but you suffered most.”

“Your crash woke us all up,” Lance adds. “No trophy is worth risking drivers’ safety even more than we already do each race.”

You’re moved by their solidarity but sigh knowingly. “The FIA would never have listened to just one driver saying something. But maybe they’ll listen to all of us.”

Max’s jaw clenches, residual anger simmering beneath the surface. “They have to listen. We won’t race in unsafe conditions again.”

The other drivers nod, They know the power that you all wield together and for the first time in a long time, you are going to use it.

In a show of outspoken unity, the GPDA drafts a strongly worded letter condemning the lack of caution around extreme heat and demanding tangible changes to make sure drivers aren’t put in avoidable jeopardy.

All twenty of you threaten to strike.

To your surprise, the FIA not only apologizes for the oversight but pledges to implement the requested changes immediately.

“Your crash was a wake-up call,” the FIA president says solemnly during a visit to your hospital room. “We should have protected you better. That will never happen again.”

When he departs, you let out a long breath, leaning back against the pillows. The anger and hurt from that night haven’t disappeared entirely but you feel a sense of hope, that some good has come from the experience.

Max clasps your hand between both of his. “What you went through is unacceptable but you used that to make the sport safer for every driver out there. I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a tired smile. “We did this together. All of us.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. When you’re better, we’ve got plenty more checkered flags to take. Side by side.”

The long road to full recovery still lies ahead. But with Max by your side, and all the drivers behind you, you know everything will be okay.

The race goes on but it will be a safer race thanks to you.

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another-random-fanfic-blog · 2 months ago

Text

My 8 Hybrids Ch. 2

Chapter 2

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Warnings: Blood, violence, abuse, Not edited, will be later

As you sped down the road, you began calculating the how long it would take for you to get to your house versus your clinic. The clinic is the obvious choice to go to, but your house is closer and you wouldn’t have to deal with traffic. Making the decision you used the voice dial on your car to call your friend Will.

“Did you get caught in the rain?” Will asks, forgoing a greeting.

“I need you to get to my house immediately, I’m 15 minutes away,” you respond, ignoring what he said, “This is an emergency.”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

With that you hung up the phone and continued down the road, glancing over at the unconscious rabbit sitting next to you, rage filling you every time as you imagine what you’d like to do with the person who put them there. You call the next person on your list, before you lose yourself in your work and forget to do what you need.

“What trouble did you cause this time?” Kiara asks.

“Trouble? Me? Unlikely,” you retort, giving a small smile.

“Y/N, I’m serious, if you punched another person for hurting a hybrid, despite them deserving it, I will start charging you extra,” Kiara sighs.

“No, not this time, I found two hybrids chained to trees, beaten, bloody, unconscious, a rabbit and some type of big cat I’m assuming. The rabbit may live, but I don’t have hope for the cat,” you explain calmly, “I took video and pictures before getting them down. I will send them to you but I want you to start the process for a lawsuit, just in case something happens.”

“And the hybrids?”

“They will need round the clock care for a while.”

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it,” Kiara grumbles, “You helped get the laws changed greatly, but unless they have a home lined up, because they are abuse cases, you have to hand them over to hybrid services, where they will probably die from inadequate care.”

“We don’t have to tell them,” you state.

“It’s the law.”

“I don’t care,” you reply shrugging to no one in particular.

“Y/n…”

“Put me down as their owner for now, I will adopt them until we can all decide on something else,” you sigh, not wanting to let the hybrids be taken away.

“I will start the paperwork,” Kiara chirps cheerfully, you know that she wanted you to adopt a hybrid at some point to give you some company. “You wouldn’t happen to know their names would you?”

“According to the rabbit, the cat is named San, I don’t know the rabbits name yet,” you respond, pulling into your driveway and seeing Will sitting in his car, “I’ve got to go, talk later.”

You hang up and come skidding to a halt, throwing your car in park and pushing the door open as you turn off the engine.

“One in the front, one in the back, get the gurney from downstairs, two of them,” you yell out to Will as he nods and runs down the basement stairs.

You open the passenger door and feel the rabbits pulse before moving back to do the same with San. Will comes up in an elevator with two gurneys at his side. Carefully, you help him move San onto one gurney and take him down, while you get the rabbit.

Once the two of you were downstairs, you try to find a spot to hook the rabbit up for an IV, but with such severe dehydration, you have no choice but to do an IO on him. Quickly grabbing a drill, you bore into his bone a little below the knee. Once the fluids were started, you move over to San.

“Mind telling me what happened?” Will asks as he wheels San back from x-rays and begins Sans IO.

“I was hiking, and found these two chained to trees, this one, San apparently, had his leg stuck in a bear claw type trap. I did what I could before bringing them here.” You respond, slowly peeling the makeshift bandage off of San’s leg.

“And here I thought you were paranoid building this place under your house. You wash up while I clean the wound, then we’ll switch.” Will said, not looking up from San’s leg.

“Ok, start him on broad spectrum antibiotics, there’s no telling what bacteria is in those wounds,” you call out from the sink as you change into scrubs and begin cleaning your hands and arms while Will preps San for surgery.

Once you finish and put on gloves, Will switches off, while you continue to debridement of the wound. Once the bleeding is under control and you look at the x-rays, seeing Sans leg is fractured, not broken, which is really the only luck this guy has. Methodically and carefully you and Will work on all of San’s wounds, back and front, in complete silence.

When you first built your home, you had experience finding sick and injured animals in the past, sometimes not being able to take them to get care overnight due to closed clinics. So you demanded a small hospital be built in part of your basement, a hermetically sealed room, filled with everything you’d find in an urgent care. Will said you were crazy for spending this amount on a place you’d never use, and you always thought better safe than sorry.

When work on San was complete, you let Will go look at the blood tests for both, while you worked on the rabbit. He had contusions, cuts, a fractured wrist, dehydration, and severe sunburn. Some of his cuts were infected so you started him on antibiotics as well.

Once you finished, Will came back to you with two bowls, towels, and sponges.

“The boys need cleaned, here’s everything for a sponge bath,” he says smiling and walking away, “I also gave you stuff to wash their hair. I’ll cook some food.”

With a sigh, you carefully start cleaning them, memorizing their features once they were clean and you were done, though you had trouble washing their hair. Both were thin, too thin, tall, from what you could tell by carrying them and them laying down. San had black hair, a sharp jaw, and cat like eyes. Meanwhile, the rabbit had white hair, round boba eyes, and high cheek bones. You moved their beds closer to each other so when they woke, they could see each other easily. You turned on the monitors so they could alert you anywhere in the house, if they woke up, had an issue, or needed an IV refill. Dimming the lights, you walked upstairs to find Will eating ramen and chicken.

“So,” he says getting you a plate as you flop down in your dining room chair, “tell me how you got in this mess with your two new hybrids.” You raise an eyebrow at that, as he places a bowl in front of you. “Kiara told me you adopted them.”

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him so he could go through the pictures and videos, not liking what he saw, while you uploaded your gopro footage to the computer, sending everything in an email to Kiara before you get sidetracked again.

“I’m not a therapist,” you say, “Can you schedule something with Jessica? They will need help, and get her caught up on…this mess.” You remark waving your hand around.

“Sure,” he replies putting his bowl in the sink. “You good, or do you need me to stick around?”

“You can go home before the storm gets worse.”

“Have a good night.” He says as he walks out the door, leaving you to eat in peace.

You finish your food, do the dishes, shower, then grab a cot and set it up in the room with the hybrids, getting ready to sleep after swapping out their IVs.

You slept a solid 10 hours for the first time in…ever before being awoken by muttering. Sitting up, you looked over and saw the rabbit hybrid sitting up and muttering while gripping San’s arm. Slowly standing you make your presence known as the rabbit stares at you frozen and not moving.

“Hi,” you say, approaching as slow as you can, “do you remember me? I found you, and helped you out of the woods.”

The rabbit just stares at you, nose slightly twitching as he plays with San’s fingers.

“San?” He finally asks.

“He has a fractured leg, infection, various wounds, and dehydration…but, barring any unforeseen complications, he should recover, quickly given your advanced healing abilities.” You tell him, as you get close, right next to his bed. “My name is Y/n, this is my home, the basement of my home, can you tell me your name?”

“…Seonghwa,” he says quietly.

“Seonghwa, it’s nice to meet you,” you state, “are you hungry?” He perks up at that and nods. “After I change your IV, I will go get you something to eat. It will be light for now, probably just broth and crackers, but once you keep something down for at least a day, I’d like 2, we will move to something else, ok?”

He nods again and you begin switching out his IV and then San’s, before heading upstairs to get the food. As you heat the broth you take a deep breath, not knowing what to say to Seonghwa as you’ve never been a good conversationalist. Carrying the food down, you stop seeing that San has moved, he was lower in the bed earlier, but now he’s almost sitting, Seonghwa’s pillow helping prop him up. You’re thankful that you decided to bring down two bowls of broth and not just one.

“Here’s your broth,” you say, setting it on a cart with a tray that can move over the bed, “I’ll get you another pillow.” You grab two and bring them back, helping Seonghwa sit up as you move the bed to a more comfortable position. “Hello San,” you say as you make your way over to him. “You have a fractured leg, we weren’t able to cast it because of the open wound, so don’t move it too much, ok?”

San looks at you with wide eyes, watching your every move as you pull up a chair.

“I think we should talk about some things.” You say looking at both of them as you move a sleeve of crackers and a bowl of broth in front of San. “My name is Y/n, I own a clinic that helps hybrids, and this is a mini clinic in my basement that you are recovering in. The law states that when cases of abuse, such as yours are reported, you have to either be immediately adopted or go to hybrid services.” You watch as both hybrids tense and grasp each other’s hands, tears forming in their eyes, knowing hybrid services is not a good option and tears bonded hybrids apart. “I have decided to adopt you until the case is closed and you decide what you’d like to do next.”

“What we’d like to do next?” Seonghwa asks between sips of broth.

“If you want to earn your independence, I will help with that, or I can help you find a different owne-“

“You don’t want us?” San questions, sniffling as he stares at his food. You swear you see a tear fall and immediately think something happened with these two, mostly likely involving being rejected.

“I would be happy if you stayed, but if you didn’t like it here, I don’t want to force you to stay with me.” You respond, patting his hand that was on the side of the bed. “Now, eat, there are small bags next to the bowls in case you need to throw up. Once you are done and the food settles, I will help you shower, then, if you want, we can head upstairs. However, the IV will have to stay in.”

With that, you head upstairs to find some clothes that will fit both the hybrids. Luckily, you have a habit of buying clothes for men and women, including underwear, just in case you have an unexpected guest or something happens to a guests clothes. While you dig through your closet you call the psychologist that works at your clinic and discuss getting the two therapy appointments as soon as you can get them in condition to start walking. She asks you a few questions and you reply, immediately mentioning the comment San made about you not wanting them. She explains that they are raised to believe being owned if the best thing for them and the fact that you suggested removing them would have brought up potential years of previous rejection, plus whatever trauma they may have from whoever left them in the woods. On top of that, one or both of them could have a co-dependency issue. You grab some clothes, soaps, lotions, deodorant, toothbrushes, and toothpaste and head down stairs, asking one final question.

“I go to a conference next week that I can’t get out of because I am a presenter. Can I leave them here alone or should I take them with me?”

“That is up to you and how you feel they will do alone.” Cassie responds before hanging up, leaving you unsatisfied with her answer.

When you walk in the recovery room, you see both hybrids talking to each other, their hands still holding each other. You walk everything into the bathroom downstairs then join the two.

“So, I have some clothes for you two,” you say, gesturing to the bathroom where you put everything, “how about we get you cleaned up? San, I will have to help you because of your leg, I swear I won’t look at anything and will be 100% professional, but I can’t have you moving it wrong.”

“Can you help me too?” Seonghwa asks quietly.

“Sure, do you want to go first?”

“Can…Can we go to-together? I…I-I…”

“Yes, if you both want to be within sight of each other, that is fine.”

You get a wheelchair to take San to the bathroom and help him undress and wrap a towel around his waist, while Seonghwa gets himself ready. Seonghwa sits himself in the tub and relishes the hot water pouring on him while he vigorously scrubs all the dirt off his skin, flinching at the force he was using. Despite you giving them a sponge bath, it still wasn’t enough to remove everything. You tell San to wait, and turn on the hot shower head to pour over him and watch how almost instantly his body begins to relax. He takes the scrubby and soap and more carefully than Seonghwa, begins to wash his upper body.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” you say to Seonghwa as you sit behind him, taking the scrubby and begin to help, using just enough pressure to clean everything off. “So, what breeds are you?”

“I’m a Lionhead rabbit,” Seonghwa declares proudly and you have to stop yourself from groaning, knowing how playful and mischievous those breeds can be.

“In other words,” You begin, carefully washing Seonghwa’s hair as he fully leans into you, moaning at how good it feels to get his scalp scrubbed, “I’m going to have my hands full with you.”

You smile at Seonghwa when he opens his eyes and looks at you, first with concern, then with warmth.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” He says closing his eyes again, his foot thumping when you scrub his ears, working the matts out of them and his hair.

“I’m sure you will be.” You finish his hair, both shampoo and conditioner, before rinsing him off and letting him soak under the spray, then head to San, who watched you scrub Seonghwa’s hair with a look of longing. “And what breed of hybrid are you, San?” You ask as he gets a look of excitement on his face while you pour shampoo in your hand.

“I’m a maine coon cat, and I’m a good boy,” he says purring the second your hands make contact with his head. “I’m not mean or intimidating.”

You could hear the pleading in his voice when he said that, and it told you that, though he was skinny, he had muscles, and his face had a look that could go two ways, one sweet and kind, or two intimidating and mean. But just looking in his eyes, like truly looking in his eyes, you could tell he was the sweet and kind person, no matter how people may have tried to portray him.

“I could tell that by your eyes,” you tell him, smiling, causing San to blush and look down.

He closes his eyes as you scrub his hair, giving him a scalp massage before rinsing him off and moving to his tail, carefully trying to work the matts out and when you couldn’t, cutting them out. Once he was cleaned, you let him sit under the spray as well, carefully examining his leg only to see the wound has sealed shut and the stitches dissolved.

You’ll say one thing, hybrid healing is both a gift and a curse. When properly hydrated and medicated and treated, the skin can take only 12 – 24 hours to heal when assisted by stitches. Unfortunately, people think that means a hybrid is healed, this leads to them being pushed beyond their limits and can sometimes be fatal. If the skin closes too fast, it can trap infections inside, and hide other injuries, luckily, San was already treated.

“Your leg looks good, San.” You say, looking up at him, causing him to look down at you and also catching Seonghwa’s attention. “The wound is closed, but the bone won’t have healed yet, so you have to remember to be careful. Both of you,” you look at Seonghwa to make sure he understands as well, and he nods. “Now, you can either stay down here, or we can try moving you to a bedroom upstairs, once you’re done getting dressed?”

“Can…we go upstairs?” Seonghwa asks hesitantly.

“Of course, this is your house too, you can move about it freely, though very carefully until San’s leg is healed.” You say, helping both hybrids dry their hair, ears, and tails. “Can you get dressed yourselves?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be outside.”

You walk outside of the bathroom and change into dry clothes, then grab a set of crutches for San to walk around on. You want to do one more x-ray on his leg before you take him upstairs, to see how fast the healing has progressed and whether you should cast it or boot it. Once they come out, you help San to the x-ray machine and take the images, Seonghwa glued to your side. Luckily, his leg looks much better, a week and a half and he should be completely healed. Carefully, you put a walking boot on his leg, all the way up to his knee and hand him the crutches, for him to use for the next two days.

Helping both of them upstairs, you show them the rooms, gym, library, living room, kitchen, and garage, before taking to the the top floor with the bedrooms.

“Ok, you both get to choose your own room,” you say smiling at them once they look at the first room. Both hybrids look at each other in slight panic before you continue. “You can visit and sleep in each other’s rooms, but I firmly believe in having your own space. So choose a room and we can look at decorations and clothes for you.”

It took a while, but both hybrids finally chose a room to call their own. You handed each a tablet to look at furniture and room design ideas, as well as shop for clothes, and you went to your own room. It was only 8pm but as soon as your head hit the pillow you were out cold.

___________________________________________________________

Your eyes begin to open as you hear rapid thumping coming from somewhere. Sleepily standing up, you walk out of your room only to hear it stop. Waiting a few minutes, you head back to your room and collapse on the bed again, snuggling under the covers. As you begin to drift off, you hear a loud crash of thunder, followed by very heavy, rapid thumps again. Listening closely you realize it is coming from under your bed.

Rolling off your bed, you grab your phone and turn on the light, seeing a cat and rabbit under there, the rabbit thumping his foot on the ground after another crash of thunder. Both hybrids trembling in fear.

“Hey guys, it’s ok, nothing to be afraid of,” you coo to them, reaching a hand out, causing both to approach you. “You are welcome to come cuddle on my bed with me if you want, in human form or animal, either is fine.”

With that you stand and lay on your bed, waiting to see what they would do. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight of them jumping on your bed, before they make their way up to where the blanket starts, scratching at it. You lift the covers and both dive inside, just as another thunder clap occurs. You turn on your side and snuggle back into your bed, slowly falling asleep, letting your two hybrids get comfortable.

A few hours later, you wake up, feeling a weight against your stomach. Lifting the blanket, you see two hybrids curled up against you, sound asleep. Carefully, so not to disturb them, you sneak out of bed and head to the showers, realizing the storm had past and it was a bright sunny day out. Once you showered, you checked back on the hybrids and then went downstairs to purchase some things the two of them would like in their animal forms.

“Good morning,” Seonghwa mumbled, walking into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, a sleepy San following behind him and collapsing into the dining room chair.

“Good morning, Seonghwa, and San,” you reply smiling back at them, “are you hungry?”

“A little,” San whispered, still half asleep.

“I can make eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns, or oatmeal. I don’t really have any other options yet.” You respond standing up and walking to the kitchen.

“Can I help?” Seonghwa asks, following you and you nod, allowing him to get everything out of the fridge and freezer.

He wanted to do everything himself, so you stood by, directing him on how to cook. While San moved around on his crutches.

“What’s this?” San asks, looking at your laptop, open to your recent shopping receipts.

“Ah, I bought some things for the two of you in your animal forms. Cat trees, tall and short, shelves with railings so Seonghwa won’t fall off, and tunnels that can be mounted high and low, as well as some hiding nooks.” You reply ignoring the look of shock on both hybrids faces as you explain what you bought for them. “They will be here in 2 days and you can help set them up and where you want them. I’m sure I bought enough that they can connect almost every room in the house.” After you finished speaking, San’s face lit up and Seonghwa’s foot started thumping on the ground excitedly, both of them trying to hid their excitement, but failing to do so.

It continued like this for the next week, you slowly grew closer to the two hybrids learning that they are the type to trust easily, which breaks your heart. You had both help you set up the cat shelves, tunnels cat trees, and let them set up their hiding nooks by themselves. They were so excited to be involved in the process. You also had them buy their own bedroom decorations and furniture and took them shopping for clothes. San had a sporty look, while Seonghwa enjoyed something similar, but also really liked more delicate style clothing. You were ok with whatever they wanted, as long as they actually wore it. They were also excited to start going to the gym. Though San couldn’t use his leg below his knee, you helped him with arm and ab workouts and exercises made for people in a chair, slow leg lifts that wouldn’t bother his healing but still something he could do. Seonghwa jumped right into everything and you had to slow him down, explaining that going too fast could cause more damage than good. By Friday at the end of the week, you sat them down, to discuss you leaving for the next week.

“You’re leaving us?” San asks, sounding panicked, almost ready to have a panic attack.

“It will only be for a few days and I will call you every morning and every night, we can even do a video chat if you want.”

“We’ll be alone?” Seonghwa asks, playing with the air of the table, only glancing at you.

“I can have someone stop in, in fact he helped me care for you the first night.”

“No,” San interrupts, clearing his throat before beginning again, “We…would rather be alone.”

“Can’t we go with you?” Seonghwa questions.

“I’m afraid there are no hybrid friendly hotels in the area, at least not one that would be kind to either of you.” You shudder at the thought of what could happen to your two hybrids in the hotels while you were gone, before continuing. “I will be 8 hours away, if something happens I can rush home, but it will only be for three days. The fridge is filled with food and I have emergency numbers written on it.” You reach out and take both of their hands, “I promise, I will be back. I will not abandon you.”

With that, they stare into your eyes before nodding. The next few days those two were the cuddliest creatures you ever met, and when you left, San started crying while Seonghwa’s eyes filled with tears, but they did not fall while you could see him. You started to miss them before they disappeared from view as you made your way to the airport, deciding to fly so it was a faster trip there and back.

__________________________________________________________

“Inside now,” the man sneers at his hybrid, causing the hybrids breath to catch in his throat.

“B-but master, the cage is too small, the only way I’ll fit is if you break something,” the hybrid begins, being cut off by his master.

“So we’ll break something. Get in now, or I swear I WILL cut your legs off this time!” The man growls, gripping the hybrids neck.

The hybrid’s eyes go wide and he nods the best he could, quickly crawling into the cage that is far too small for his body. He had to contort himself into an uncomfortable position to fit so the door would close, however, his foot blocked the way of the door. His master didn’t care and slammed the door shut, jamming the hybrids knee into his nose, causing it to bleed, and causing a loud crack from his, foot filling the hybrids body with intense pain. However, that wasn’t all, with the angle of his body in such a small space, his legs put pressure on his chest that made it hard for the hybrid to breathe.

“Don’t make a sound.” The man sneers walking away, leaving the hybrid to suffer.

You felt like you had been walking for hours by the time you made it to the lounge, flopping yourself in the comfortable chair by the windows. This week stressed you out and all you want to do is go home and relax with your hybrids. You place your phone on the chair arm, but it fell onto the floor. When you reach down to grab it, you saw something under the table next to you that made you curious. Moving down to the floor, you see it is a large hybrid, crammed in a small cage, his body contorted in a grotesque position so he could fit, his nose bleeding, and his breathing shallow and labored, eyes closed tightly in an effort to calm himself.

“Nice hybrid isn’t he,” a man says from behind you.

You’re staring at the hybrids face, he opens his eyes and you see the silent plea for help before he closes them again, tears falling down his face.

“He is,” you reply, standing up, “you wouldn’t be interested in selling him would you?”

“You wanna buy him?”

“Yes, I quit like collecting hybrids when they catch my eyes,” you reply, sitting on the chair, staring at the man with a coy smile, trying to feign a calm detachment to the situation. “Right now, your hybrid caught my eye.”

“I’ve tried selling him before, but no one wants a hybrid his size.”

“Oh, what do you mean?”

“He’s 6”1 or 6”3, I don’t really know, and no one wants something so tall.”

“I do. How much?”

“10,000.”

You internally wince at the price, you have the money, but no matter what, $10,000 is a lot to spend. “9 he seems to have a broken nose, it ruins his pretty face.”

“95 and I throw in the cage.”

“9 and I don’t walk away from this. Like you said, no one else wants him.”

“Fine, $9,000. Would you like me to ship him to you o-”

“I will transfer the money to you now and we run across the street and get him legally transferred to me.”

“Deal. Sir,” the man turns to the concierge, “watch the hybrid, and don’t let anyone take him.”

After a half hour, you have a key to the cage and the owner is shipping it to the hotel you just ordered a room at. By the time you arrive, after ordering an uber, you enter your room, throwing your things on the floor as you approach your new hybrid.

“Hi,” you say, as you unlock the cage door, the hybrid watching you with scared eyes, “my name is Y/N, I guess I’m your new owner.”

You open the door and stand back, letting the hybrid untangle himself to get out, but then you notice he’s having trouble. Carefully, you reach in the cage and reposition his legs, slightly pulling them straighter, so he can unbend himself. Meanwhile, you go to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean his face.

“What’s your name?” You ask, walking back to the room and seeing him sitting on the floor. Slowly you lower yourself in front of him and begin cleaning the blood from his nose.

“Yunho,” he replies, sitting quietly as you examine his face.

“Good news is your nose isn’t actually broken, just a little swollen,” you look down and see his ankle sitting at an odd angle. “What happened to your foot?”

“I don’t know,” Yunho whispers looking away, clenching his fists as he stares at his leg.

“Ok, we’re taking you to a hybrid urgent care,” you state as you order another uber to the nearest hybrid treatment location. Getting a few things together, and calling to see if the front desk has a spare wheelchair to wheel Yunho to a car, you watch him carefully during that time. He doesn’t make a move at all. Soon your phone dings letting you know your uber is here, followed by a knock on the door. With the help of the bellman, you lift Yunho into the wheelchair, then head to the car. It’s not a long drive, and once Yunho is settled in at the doctor and wheeled away for x-rays, you call San and Seonghwa.

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Taglist: @sunnysidesins, @the-secret-thief

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader smut #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez hybrid #hybrid ateez #hybrid!ateez #My 8 hybrids

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harrysfolklore · 10 months ago

Note

Omg

we touched upon how concerned would piastri!yn was when carlos had appendicitis but what would carlos’s reaction be when yn is in a hospital … say because of the heat in qatar 2023

AHHH BYE I LOVE THIS (also some carlos pov bc why not 👀)

read little bitch here

Carlos was in the paddock, chatting with his mechanics when he overheard a conversation that made him freeze.

"Did you hear?" one of the crew members was saying to another. "Piastri's sister, the older one, she's in the hospital."

Carlos felt his heart skip a beat. He tried to convince himself he didn't care, that YN was just his rival's annoying sister, but he couldn't help moving closer to listen.

"What? Is she okay?"

"Passed out from the heat in the middle of the McLaren hospitalty, I think. They took her to the medical center first but apparently she needed to go to the hospital."

Before he could stop himself, Carlos found himself looking for Lando. He knew they were best friends, so Lando must be aware of how she's doing.

Carlos quickly spotted Lando near the McLaren garage, looking uncharacteristically serious as he spoke with his race engineer. Without thinking, Carlos strode over, his heart pounding.

"Lando," he called out, trying to keep his voice casual. "I just heard about YN. Is she alright?"

Lando turned, surprise evident on his face at Carlos's apparent concern. "Yeah, it's pretty scary. She collapsed suddenly in our hospitality area. The heat's brutal out here."

Carlos nodded, trying to maintain a neutral expression. "Do you know how she's doing now?"

"Last I heard, they've got her on fluids at the hospital. Oscar's with her," Lando replied, eyeing Carlos curiously. "Since when do you care about YN? I thought you two couldn't stand each other."

"I don't care," Carlos said quickly. Too quickly. "I'm just... concerned. This heat is ridiculous and we're racing in two days."

Lando raised an eyebrow but didn't push further. "Right. Well, I'm heading to the hospital after this debrief. I could… let you know how she's doing, if you want?"

"It's not necessary."

Carlos said and walked away without waiting for Lando's response. He told himself he was being ridiculous, that YN probably just forgot to hydrate or something equally careless. She was fine. It was just heat exhaustion.

But as he tried to focus on his work, he kept seeing flashes of YN's face, imagining her unconscious and vulnerable. Before he knew what he was doing, he was in his car, driving to the hospital.

He sat in the parking lot for a good ten minutes, arguing with himself. This was stupid. She'd probably just mock him for showing up. They weren't friends. They weren't anything.

But then he remembered the last time he saw her, how her eyes had flashed with anger during their latest argument, how alive she'd looked. The thought of those eyes closed and unresponsive made his chest tighten.

Cursing under his breath in Spanish, he got out of the car and headed into the hospital. He'd just check if she was okay, he told himself. He didn't even have to let her know he was there.

As he approached the reception, he heard a familiar voice that made him stop in his tracks. "I told you, I'm fine! It's just a bit of dehydration, Oscar. You don't need to hover."

Carlos couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Even after collapsing, YN was as fiery as ever. He turned the corner and saw her sitting up in a hospital bed, an IV in her arm. Oscar was beside her, looking exasperated.

YN's eyes met his, and for a moment, they both froze. Surprise, confusion, and something else Carlos couldn't quite name flashed across her face.

"Sainz?" she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and... was that a hint of pleasure? "What the hell are you doing here?"

Carlos opened his mouth, realizing he had absolutely no idea what to say. How could he explain his presence when he didn't understand it himself?

"I... uh..." he stammered, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

YN's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on her lips. "Don't tell me you were worried about little old me?"

Carlos felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Of course not," he scoffed, falling back on their usual banter. "I just came to make sure you hadn't permanently damaged yourself. Who else would I argue with in the paddock?"

YN's smirk grew wider. "Aw, you do care, little bitch."

"In your dreams, Piastri," Carlos retorted, but there was no real heat in his words.

As they fell into their familiar pattern of bickering, Carlos felt the knot in his chest loosen.

YN was okay. She was still here, still infuriating, still making his heart race in a way he wasn't ready to examine too closely.

And if he stayed a little longer than necessary, if his eyes lingered on her face a bit too long, well... that was something to worry about another day.

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ilium-ilia · 4 months ago

Text

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Five: the help of someone else feels foreign

tw: wound cleaning

Your ears are ringing again.

It’s torturous. Never-ending. Forever plaguing you the moment things should be quiet. It drones on like the engine of a car—a bug buzzing near your head. It’s nothing but a painful reminder that you survived, and continue to do so despite the fact you’ve never once deserved it.

Dehydration torments your mouth by the time you finally come to. Everything slowly fades in like the transition of a movie; poetic and painfully slow. The sting in your palms, the way you have to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth only to let out a confused, gargled groan. Everything feels too bright as mood lighting illuminates an unfamiliar red and black room. Lead heavy arms struggle to push your torso off of the soft, leather cushions underneath you as your muscles scream at the build up of lactic acid.

You blink at the foreign room around you. You’re resting in a lush conversation pit with throw pillows, but there’s no one to converse with. There’s no company but a bare glass coffee table in front of you and a chandelier overhead that’s darkened to its lowest setting. Taking a shot in the dark, you guess you’re still at Terminus, but something seems uncannily off about it. There’s no faint hum of brooding music or overwhelming chatter. Sour alcohol doesn’t fill the air—there’s nothing.

Despite the mental fog that ravages your mind, you feel surprisingly fine physically. There’s no pounding headache or churning sensation of nausea like after a long night drinking; there’s only a slight thirst for water and a throbbing sensation in both of your hands. Once you’re able to get your eyes to focus, you realize they’ve been tenderly wrapped in white gauze. Tiny, faint patches of blood have bled through it, leaving behind rusty brown spots like freckles.

Then, everything hits you at once. The ache that weighs in your chest. The backlog of adrenaline that tickles the sides of your spine. You recall Andrei. How you were unfortunate enough to run into him after making a wrong turn. You think of his warning—how he’s always warning you—and how Simon found you. You cautiously rub at your raw eyes, taking care to avoid messing with the gauze too much. Attempting to keep the frustrated sorrow stewing in your stomach at bay seems like an impossible task.

How do you keep messing up?

“Morning’ sweetheart.”

Flinching at the voice behind you, you cover your mouth with a squeak as you twist your body on the sofa. Simon towers over you at an odd angle as he stands outside of the conversation pit with a poorly made club sandwich in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. The sunken couch nestled in the center of the floor seems like a den—tucked away far out of sight from any reprobate eyes.

He steps into the pit with ease where he settles a comfortable distance away. Thankfully, he sits on your right. He holds out the glass for you to take, but you don’t miss the way his eyes wander over your face.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologizes.

“It’s fine,” you quickly dismiss.

You reach your hand out to take the glass only to realize you can hardly grip it with the gauze. Its pristine, smooth surface just slips right along the cotton, so you grab it with both hands as if it were a warm cup of tea on a bitterly algid day. Once it’s free from his hands, Simon dives right in for a bit of his sandwich before leaning back against the couch.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, mouth half full.

“Fine,” you reply with the glass pressed against your lips. Its cold liquid washes over your dry tongue, reviving it like a desert turned into an oasis. Your eyes flicker around the room once more, this time noting the rich, marble floors. “Where… where are we?”

Before Simon can answer you, he dives in for another quick bite of his sandwich. He’s hardly sat down and it’s nearly half devoured already. You think back to the food you brought him from work—the delicious capellini pomodoro—and how it’s nothing but a pile of goo in the alleyway outside. A pang of guilt rattles your chest at realizing how long he’s been starving for.

“One of the rooms Price saves for private occasions,” Simon explains as he wipes his mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You were a little out of it after everythin’ went down. Hardly responsive. Was worried, so I brought you here to help you calm down. Pretty much passed out the moment you sat on the sofa. Completely shut down.”

Ignominy rises in your face, searing your cheeks and the tips of your ears until it boils over into your stomach. The mental image of Simon having to lead you around the club like a zombie puts you on edge. You hate being vulnerable around others. Most of all, you hate how your vulnerability oftentimes isn’t a choice you get to make.

“Tried to clean up your hands as best as I could,” Simon continues. You look down at your palms and flex your fingers, testing the range of motion. The sting is dull, but still there buried deep beneath your skin. “I’m not a doctor, but it should keep you together for now.”

“I… thank you,” you whisper before pausing. “How did you know where I was? Or that… or that anything was happening?”

“Boys up front messaged sayin’ you were on your way,” he explains nonchalantly. “Took you longer than it should’ve to find me. Got worried, so I went out lookin’ for ya. Though you’d gotten yourself lost, and then I heard people talkin’ in the alley. Well, you know the rest.”

When you look up from your hands, you find Simon staring at you. His dark eyes are endless voids in the dim light of the room—endless but so warm. The muscles lining his jaw flex and relax as he chews and swallows his meal.

“You know ‘im? That cunt in the alley?” he asks.

Wounded hands reach for your chest as if you’re able to console the rabid pounding of your heart with touch alone. You recall Andrei’s eyes—the bored expression of his tone. How flippantly he deals with life. The soft warning soaking his words. You are very much aware how bad his bite hurts. It’s a bite you don’t want Simon to feel because of you.

“No. I have no idea,” you lie.

Simon stares at you for a little longer, eyes scouring your face for any hint that you might be hiding something. He reads through your features like he’s done it a million times before—like he’s already got every bit of you memorised. Constantly searching; forever vigilant. You don’t feel like you can breathe until he hums and looks back at his food.

“Shady stuff happens ‘round here more often than I��d like,” Simon admits. “Probably just another ugly wanker sniffin’ for some fun. I see ‘em here sometimes. Alcohol, drugs, and crowds breeds trouble. Probably gets a good kick outta intimidating women.”

“Good thing they’ve got good security here,” you quip. It’s smarter than what you’d usually say—you blame it on the anxiety.

Dark eyes land on you once more with a smirk. “Cheers.”

He finishes the last bite of his sandwich before sinking back into the leather couch with a sigh. Despite how put together he comes across, there’s obvious bits of fatigue eating away at him. Heavy weights pull at his eyes, making them more hooded than normal. Usually, you try not to stare too long, but there’s something wrong with him that your hazy eyes and anxiety riddled brain wasn’t able to notice before.

Even with his scuffle with Andrei, his hands are in remarkably good shape. No split knuckles or irritated skin. If there’s any wounds from the knife that was drawn on him, you’re not able to see anything. But there’s something off about his face. Asymmetrical. A gentle swelling of his left eye hidden beneath an old, long healed scar. Amaranthine seeps into the paleness of his face—a deep bruise sits at the crest of his cheek.

“Simon, your eye,” you point out as you lean forward.

Fingers absentmindedly reach up for his face as he gently prods at the wound. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Already iced it. I’ve been hit harder than that before.”

Guilt rips through you like a bullet rips through a brain—you think you’ve finally realized the gravity of the situation. This wasn’t just a simple run in with some bum on the street; this is Andrei. This is worse than Andrei—this is Marco.

Situations brainstorm in your mind as you attempt to mentally fabricate excuses. Some way to beg Marco to believe that this isn’t Simon’s fault, but yours. It’s too late. You can already smell his cologne and feel his hand on your jaw.

Back pressed against the wall—breath on your face—mint in the air—blood on linoleum—

“Hey, stay with me.”

A warm hand braves the clamminess of your fingers as your cup is removed from your grasp, forcing you to blink away your panic and focus on Simon. It’s an embarrassing habit of yours—this terror. Some days, when you’re not smart enough to keep yourself distracted, it grips you so terribly you can do nothing but freeze. Let the world weigh you down. Sleep away the feeling until you wake up with little to no memory of what happened during your struggle.

But Simon is grounding. You focus on the scent of him; that faint but lingering nicotine—that fresh cotton. There’s a texture to his skin, something there besides the bruise. A gentle five o’clock shadow. Faint, silvery scars that dance along the bridge of his nose. The flicker of his eyes as he tries to read your face.

“Sorry,” you sputter. “I just… uhm…”

“I get it,” Simon interrupts before you can make a further fool of yourself. “Long night. We should getcha home. It’s gettin’ late.”

Your lips press tightly together as you force a breath into your lungs, praying your heart will steady. He’s too close for comfort, you realize. Heat radiates off of him like apricity, warming you from the inside out. Yet the look in his eyes is the softest thing you’ve seen for quite some time.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Thanks.”

It isn’t until you make it outside that you realize just how late you’ve been out. The faint periwinkle glow of the sky bleeds over the city as the sun attempts to break through the horizon. Around this time, normal people are getting up to start their days; enjoying a fresh cup of tea, and maybe a shower. Simon doesn’t say anything about the time, and neither do you. You don’t think you can handle any more guilt than what’s already eating away at you.

As Simon leads you to the car park, you find your eyes flickering to every poorly illuminated corner and alleyway. A part of you still fears that Andrei might be lurking, ready to pounce, ready to get revenge. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him. He’s done worse, and will continue to do worse. Yet, there’s no such boogeyman waiting for you, not when someone like Simon is around to ward them off.

Your pace slows as you near Simon’s vehicle of choice, and you feel your stomach drop at the sight of his motorcycle. It’s beautifully kept and maintained. A sleek black body reflects the flat sunlight, and the seat looks comfortable enough for cruising. Though you’re not too keen on driving what you consider to be a one way ticket to the hospital, you’d rather face your chances on that with Simon than sitting through a miserable ride on public transit.

“Here,” Simon says, pulling you out of your thoughts. When you turn to face him, you find his shoulders flexing as he slides his leather jacket off of his torso. He holds it out for you, already prepared for your arms to slip through the sleeves, and you bite your lip. “You’ll need this if you don’t wanna freeze to death.”

“Won’t you get cold?” you counter.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart.”

You do your best to muster a look of disapproval, but Simon is unmoved by your expression, and instead shakes his coat, prompting you. Sighing, you give in and turn around to allow him to smother you in his coat. You try to remember the last time someone helped you get dressed, but you can’t. Something vague pokes in the back of your mind, attempting to convince you that you can recall some faint memory, but it feels false.

How long have you been like this? Taking care of yourself for so long that the help of someone else feels foreign?

“Simon?” you ask. Your breath swirls in a white cloud in front of you before it quickly sputters and dies. The warmth of his jacket bleeds through your clothes and into your skin, staving off the bitter frost that attempts to ravage your senses. “Can I… request something?”

He hums in response as he gently turns you back around to face him. His fingers fumble with the zipper for a short moment before he secures you. He sneaks his gloves out of the pockets of the jacket before giving you his full attention.

“Can you promise me you won’t tell Aelin about this?” you ask.

Thick fingers curl and uncurl as Simon shoves his hands into his leather gloves. He’s already got big palms and long digits, but the slight added padding of the gloves accentuates them, and you feel your mouth go dry again.

“Don’t want her to stress?” he concludes.

You nod, and he nods back.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

There’s only a few more quick steps Simon walks you through before you’re ready to hit the road. Once your new jacket is fitted around your body, he makes you wear his helmet as an extra measure of protection. He’s got a rather large head, and it smells vaguely like sweat mixed with fresh shampoo, but he’s able to get it secured well enough. He fixes his long sleeved shirt around the edge of his gloves before swiping a black balaclava out of the jacket; something to protect his skin from the bitter wind you’re about to endure, no doubt. As he dons it, you try not to pay attention to the way it makes his eyes darken—as if they aren’t already intense enough.

Simon hops onto the bike and motions for you to follow after him. It takes a bit of wiggling for you to get comfortable—as he has impossibly wide hips to accommodate—but you settle behind him with your hands respectfully on your knees. The engine roars to life with a jolt, rough vibrations rattling your bones in the process, and you hope Simon doesn’t hear you squeak. Before he takes off, he reaches behind him and grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him and moving your arm around his waist.

“Hold on,” he barks over the rumbling.

So you do. You try to keep your hands covered with the sleeves of his jacket to keep them warm as he begins to pull out of the car park. The ride is smooth as he pulls onto the street, and he coasts along the pavement with ease. There’s not as much traffic as there usually is considering it’s an early Sunday morning, and you have a feeling Simon is driving under the speed limit for your sake. Despite the lower speed, the howling wind is loud enough to drown out the ringing in your ears.

You don’t realize until you’re about halfway home that you can feel Simon’s heartbeat.

It teases your fingertips; strong and steady, as if the cruise is comforting to him. Bright sunlight bleeds through your eyelids as you squeeze them shut and try to get lost in the feeling. It’s so distinct that you can almost convince yourself you can hear its reverberations travel throughout your body to meet your achy eardrums. You lean against him, chest pressed against his back, helmet resting against his shoulder, and allow yourself to wander. You think it’s the first time that your hands have stilled without driving you insane.

That comfort is ripped from you as Simon pulls up to your dingy apartment.

Silence falls as he kills the engine, and the two of you slide off of the bike where he assists in freeing you from the helmet before following you into the building. Neither of you say anything as you traverse up the stairs, fatigue too violent to fight off. This has been one of the hardest days you’ve had to endure in quite some time, and you can’t wait to fall asleep in the safety of your own bed and forget all about it in your slumber.

The moment you step foot into the flat, you’re tearing Simon’s jacket off, ready to be rid of the sweat stained clothes you’ve been wearing for the better part of the last twenty four hours. You hardly manage to get your arm free from the right sleeve before a stinging pain rips through your hand. You choke out a wince as you bring your palm up where you notice your gauze caught on the jacket. It would have torn free from your skin if it wasn’t for the dried blood welding it to your cuts. You make a foolish attempt to pull the rest of it free, but that only earns you another jolt of pain.

“Careful,” Simon warns. He grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him, preventing you from messing with it further. You stare up at him with heavy, dead eyes. “Let me help.”

Words bubble up in the back of your throat; sour ones that you have to force yourself to bite back as you allow Simon to help you for the umpteenth time since you’ve met him. He slips his balaclava off and doesn’t bother to fix his hair as he leads you towards the kitchen sink where his gloves quickly join his mask in his pockets. Your newly fixed sink turns on with a slight squeak as Simon wets his fingers and begins to rub at the space between your skin and the gauze.

Despite the refreshing sensation, it still stings as the water mixes with your fresh wounds, but it softens the scabs enough so that Simon’s able to pull the fabric free with little resistance. For the first time, you’re able to clearly see the damage done to your palms. Several deep, angry, swollen cuts line the meaty part of your hand, blending in with your palm lines. It’s hard not to grimace at the sight of it. You don’t think you want to know exactly what he had to pull out of your skin.

Simon’s thumb swipes over the cuts as gentle as a feather, and you find your eyes darting to his face. His cheeks are rosy with the November chill, but his eyes are glued onto your hand. It’s caring.

So caring that it makes you feel sick.

“I can come by in a few days to check up on it,” he says, eyes flickering to yours for only a moment. “You’d fallen into some gnarly stuff. Worried ‘bout infection.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Those words that you had to bite back earlier bubble up on their own volition, and they taste just as harsh as they sound. Even so, Simon doesn’t flinch. In fact, nothing about his stature changes at all. Maybe he’s used to the sting.

“Doin’ what?” he challenges.

“Why are you… Why are you doting after me?” you clarify. “My door, my sink, now my hands. I mean, you don’t even know me. Not really. Why are you wasting your time?”

“I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to waste,” he corrects as he begins to lower your hand. “Everythin’ I do is intentional.”

“But why?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but his silence sings. The answer is written all over his face—hidden in the twitch of his lips and the glint of his eyes. Espial hits you square in the face, nearly knocking the breath out of you.

“Aelin put you up to this, didn’t she?” you ask, voice soft.

Simon drops your hand. “She’s worried ‘bout you.”

Just as soon as that discomfort hits, it fades into your stomach and disperses until there’s nothing left. Maybe it should hurt a bit more knowing that Simon has only been doing this on orders of your best friend. You know kindness never comes cheap, if it ever comes at all. Yet, relief overwhelms you in a violent wave. He has been nothing but compassionate toward you ever since the first time he met you—yet he’s not doing this because of you.

You don’t owe Simon Riley a damn thing.

“Yeah, she always is,” you humor with a dull titter. “Good. I’m… glad that you’re not doing this just for me.”

The sun is fully over the horizon by the time Simon leaves your apartment. There’s a deep, incessant ache that stems from his cheek bone, down the back of his neck, and all the way through his spine. He knows he should be used to it by now. His job has been full of nothing but perfectly timed violence, but it always takes a toll on his body in some way he doesn’t expect. He ignores the throe as he rides through the morning smog and bitter cold, and instead focuses on the events of the night.

There’s something terribly familiar about that man who accosted you in the alley. A malicious glint in his eyes that’s too dangerous for any run of the mill thug to wear. Simon wouldn’t have ever noticed if you hadn’t reacted the way you did. Paralyzed with fear, unable to do anything but freeze and throw up due to unbridled anxiety. When he asked you if you knew this man—this freak with his stony face and sharp knife—you said no.

He doesn’t believe you for a second.

Which is why he’s back at Terminus, hidden far back in the surveillance room, scouring through countless rolls of film as he witnesses the events of the night for himself. It’s grainy, poor quality, and stuck in black and white, but this stranger—now a freak with a broken nose—arrived at the club fifteen minutes before you did. Nothing about it seems fishy. It’s not some stakeout, nor is he waiting in the shadows to pounce on you like a predator. No, this is simple coincidence, and he vanishes out of the camera’s sight within seconds.

Then you arrive some time later, bashful and awkward as you talk to the bouncers at the main entrance. You set off on your own after a quick chat and make a wrong turn. Everything else after that, he remembers himself. Seeing it again doesn’t do anything to jog his memory, not even as the camera catches the man’s bloody face and freshly shattered nose.

He’s as much of an enigma now as he was before.

It’s just past eight in the morning by the time Simon decides he needs help. A deep burn irritates his eyes as he scrolls through the contacts on his phone where names begin to blur together in fatigue. Still, he finds the name he needs with little difficulty, and he’s impatiently awaiting an answer as he listens to the dull ring blare through the speaker.

“Hello?” a voice greets through heavy panting.

“Out of shape, Johnny?” Simon quips.

“Cardio day,” the man responds simply.

Simon hums as he leans back in the squeaky desk chair. Faux leather strains underneath the pressure of his weight, but he ignores it as his eyes focus back on the monitors in front of him.

“I’ve got an assignment for you,” he says.

“Pushing all the hard work onto me again?” Johnny teases.

“You’re more tech savvy than I am,” Simon deadpans. “Listen, when you come in tonight, I need you to find the name of someone for me. Get on cam five and look at the time stamp around one fifteen this morning. There’s a cunt leaving the alley next to the VIP section, and I need to know who he is.”

A quiet slurp followed by a loud gulp cuts through the static of the call before Johnny hums. “Right. Any physical description?”

“Bastard has a broken, bloody nose,” Simon answers.

“New dance partner?” Johnny chuckles.

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Right. Well, I’ll be in this afternoon working on a project for Price. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”

“Good man,” Simon concludes.

The line goes cold seconds later, and there’s nothing but the strong whirring of computer fans to fill the silence. Achy fingers rub at his jaw as Simon rests his eyes for a moment. If that chair wasn’t so uncomfortably small, he swears he could fall asleep right then and there, but the storm of thoughts swirling in his head keeps him going.

You’re in trouble.

As for what kind, he’s not sure yet. All he knows is that he hasn’t seen someone that afraid since Tommy watched him slaughter a man while trying to save his life back in the butcher shop. He doesn’t know why his brother was so surprised to see that he—a butcher—was able to slice flesh so easily, but he didn’t like seeing that fear in Tommy’s eyes, and he certainly didn’t like it in yours. That primal, agonizing fear. He didn’t like how your brain and body seemed to shut down because of it, or how he had to all but carry you to safety so you wouldn’t have to pass out on the grimy ground.

Simon has no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, or why it seems to haunt you so maliciously, but he does know that he’s killed before and he’ll do it again if it gets you to sleep any easier at night.

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#ilium writing #sr ilia #in limbo #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader

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horrorslvts · 6 months ago

Text

chris doesnt know how to change a tire 🤍

nsfw: car nsfw, no sex, switch chris and reader, female reader, breast play, making out, sweat, cum, fingering.

awful idea.

all of this was an awful idea.

you and chris wanted to celebrate him getting his drivers license by going on a trip to the beach with matt’s car. however, you didn’t think about the chance he would demolish his brothers car on your way back. now? youre wet, hot, almost dehydrated and drenched in your own sweat and salt.

you watch as chris tries repeatedly to turn the engine again and go somewhere, anywhere, but the car is limping more than you after a good fucking on a sunday night. you look over as the brunette goes out of the car, an after a few seconds comes back in the car hitting the door behind him.

“what is it?!”

you tell him loudly, on the verge of choking him with your own hands.

“flat tire!!”

he yells back at you and puts his hands on the wheel, allowing his head to fall between his arms. your eyes trace his salty and glued-together locks, and momentarily you want to grab them and rip them out his head from anger.

“you dont know how to change a t-“

“no y/n i was half asleep when matt was showing me that!”

chris rises his head from its hiding spot between his arms and looks at you with a pissed off expression.

“oh my god chris! how did you even get that damn license anyways-!”

you throw your head back as grunts are exchanged between you two, and you feel the sweat beading on your temples and making a beeline towards the veins on the side of your neck. you fish your phone out your denim booty shorts pocket and send a message to matt to come here asap.

“jesus christ it will take him like half an hour to get here-“ chris whispers beneath his own heavy breath as if you chose the worst possible solution to this mess.

“i know-!”

you officially decided it, your best friend is an absolute idiot and there was no explanation for it, he had been this way even before the almost heat-stroke you two were going through.a few seconds of silence make you sigh loudly.

”you good?” chris asks looking off into the distance of the sunny hill as he turns on the ac.

“just dizzy..”

you say back at him in a low, tired voice. you despise being hot, its your personal nightmare fuel. you lift your hand and place your fingertips in front of the car ac to cool your limbs down.

chris does the same and after half a minute of his hand getting chilly, he places it on your inner thigh in an attempt to cool you down and wake you up by snapping you out of your slumber.

“holy fuck chris-“

you let out with a gasp that was almost leaked out of a porn category, more so to the feeling of a large hand gripping your inner thigh than the temperature of his skin itself.

“shut up, you need to cool down.”

he says and looks ahead at the rocky landscape, his hand still tightly holding your soft salty skin.

you sit back on the car seat and cross your arms as you let him do his thing and look to the other side trying to hide the red blush across your cheeks. at worst case scenario, if asked you could blame it on the heat.

his thumb starts rubbing circular motions on your skin, occasionally playing with the rim of your denim shorts. you slowly creep your eyes from out the window towards chris and your gaze immediately spots the elephant in the room. your best friend had an erection that was visible as day beneath his trunks.

“uh chris-“

”i know. sorry, its tricky having my hand on your thigh and not letting my mind go places-ignore it.” he said completely avoiding to turn his head and look at you.

“places like..?”

god, why would you audibly ask that? some times you really wish you could hold your thoughts INSIDE your head like they are supposed to be.

“you really wanna find out?”

he turns to face you, tired eyes look at you in curiosity as they creep towards your thighs and you feel your parts tingle and your heart skip a beat. your silence was followed by a tiny shrug and nod, you could feel your lower lip trembling in need.after a few seconds his lips fell agape, surprised you didn’t immediately slap the audacity out of him.

he turns his head again to look elsewhere and starts sliding his hand upwards, slowly sliding down the zipper of your shorts. you feel your breathing get heavier, warmer and even though the ac is helping, your own body temperature is now playing tricks on you.

his fingertips fiddle with the fabric of your bikini and eventually slide their way under towards your warm skin. a little gasp makes your body slightly jolt upwards as you see the slight tent on his trunks grow and hear his breathing get heavier and head lower.

you hesitate but eventually let your hand travel towards his own thigh, and slowly touch his bulge. that makes chris immediately look at you and grab your wrist with his free hand.

“y/n dont make me do something we might regret.”

“..we can blame it on the heatstroke.” you say without thinking at all.

a slight silence follows and before you know it chris frees both his hands to move you on his lap, letting your legs spread and find their way across the car. one on top of the steering wheel and the other stretched towards the passenger seat. his hard on your ass makes your face red and you instinctively move your thighs slightly, making chris groan and place his lips on yours.

you two start kissing like animals that are fighting over raw meat.

his tongue pushes yours, and you can feel his breath on your upper lip tremble. he lets out soft moan and groans as his fingers go under your bikini again, and without hesitation this time play with your clit

“f..fuck..” he mumbles under his breath and places his head to lean on your chest. his tongue then softly runs across the salty skin and he moans softly in pleasure before pulling down your bikini bra. your nipple peaks out just enough for chris to kiss and lick.

his teeth softly play with it as he looks up at you with the neediest eyes ever, like a puppy that is begging for your attention. his lips purse around your pink skin and he smiles while his tongue runs circles on your breast.

this is so overwhelming for you that you cover your mouth and lean back. his free hand holds your neck softly from the side and you can still feel him lick your breasts.

at this point you two were posed like a large instrument and the worlds most delicate musician in the world playing with it. only that the music was coming from your throats.his finger slides inside you and at the feeling of your warm and wet pussy he gasps.

“youre drenched..” he says in pleasure with a tone that reminds you of a whine. he proceeds to continue moving his finger inside you. in and out softly while his thumb is running circles on your clit.

”fuck..chris..”

”y/n i swear to god im gonna burst on my own fucking clothes-“ he says.

you believe him because you can feel his stomach raise and then drop from his breathing, and the hard feeling on your ass is now accompanied by him softly grinding his cock across your body.

you slightly look down to see the tip of his cock try to escape the rim of his waistband, and wet precum dripping from it and sticking to his skin.that view alone was enough to make you get even more wet on his fingers and feel yourself building up.

“chris im gonna-fuck im-“

he covers your mouth with his free hand, snaking it around your neck and shoulders and you feel yourself moving your body and fucking yourself on his fingers. you hold onto his hand and feel your nipple wet from his mouth again.

in between your orgasm, you feel him stop and lean his head on you as his fingertips start losing pace.after a few seconds you feel his hand slowly release of your mouth and you hear him breath heavily.

“..holy..fucking..”

you look down on your best friend only to see his stomach drenched in white, sticky cum. his dick is pulsating letting out the last drops of semen and you both are a salty, cummed on and sweaty mess.

then, the phone rings.chris, looking defeated reaches for the phone and picks it up on speaker, setting it on your thigh.

”yeah?” he says with a shaky breath.

“uh..did you guys..finish with your business so i can change your damn tire?” matt asks in a whispered tone.

you turn your head to see him only a few feet behind your car standing and looking elsewhere.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x oc

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sheerfreesia007 · 8 months ago

Text

Check Under My Hood

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word count: 3,544

Content warnings: Fluff, suggestive

Summary: Your car breaks down on the side of the road about 3 miles away from the repair shop you noticed on your drive back and forth. What happens when the owner of said shop happens to be a muscular handsome man who has a kind heart and a slight knight in shining armor complex?

“No, no, no, no. C’mon please!” You begged in dismay as your car began to slow to an almost crawl. Quickly you turned your steering wheel to the side and guided your car to the shoulder of the road before easing on the brake and stopping the car before parking it. You sighed loudly and defeatedly as you leant forward and rested your forehead on your steering wheel while glaring at the lit up engine light on your dashboard. You had thought you had a few more miles for the repair shop in town before your car would give up on you but sadly that wasn’t the case.

Groaning loudly you knew that you would have to walk the rest of the way to the repair shop and it was at least another three miles down the road. Hitting your head repeatedly on the steering wheel you whined softly to yourself before sighing and sitting back up in your seat. You grabbed your purse off the passenger side seat before stepping out of your car with your keys in hand. Locking your car you turned your head towards the direction that you needed to head in and sighed softly as the sun glinted off your dark sunglasses, it was gonna be a long walk.

*-*-*-*

The sound of rock music flitted through the air as you slowly walked along the side of the road feeling overheated and exhausted. Wiping the back of your hand against your forehead you sighed with relief as your eyes darted over to the mechanic shop and heard the loud whirring of a drill from inside the garage. Double checking the road you tried to quickly make it across to the mechanic’s shop but stumbled as your feet hit a lifted piece of pavement. You yelped as you began to fall forward keeping your hands out to catch you on the hard pavement when suddenly a strong muscled arm wrapped around your waist and held you hovering above the ground.

”Woah! Easy there!” A pleasant voice from behind you sounded and you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment as the arm righted you back on your feet and then turned you swiftly making your head spin. You felt woozy as your brain kept spinning from the swift movement and black spots began to appear in your eyesight. A taller looming man with kind concerned brown eyes looked down at you before his head turned and yelled out for help.

*-*-*-*

Groaning softly you frowned as your head rolled on your neck tiredly before your eyes fluttered open lazily. Darting your eyes around the small room you noticed that it was an office of some sort with card boxes piled up in tall stacks along the back wall. Lifting your head slowly you groaned again while raising a hand to the back of your neck and rubbing it to try and massage the kink out of your muscles.

Suddenly the door opened quickly and your eyes darted over to the tall man who stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a dirty white tank top and a pair of blue coveralls with the top half of them tied around his waist covering his legs while a pair of tan steel toed work boots and a well worn black baseball cap with some obscure logo on it made up his entire outfit.

”Oh! You’re awake finally!” He said surprised to see that you were awake in the office. He disappeared from the doorway for a moment before he was striding back into the office holding a water bottle in his hand. “Here sip slowly.” He instructed you before he opened the water bottle for you and handed it to you.

He then took a seat on the desk in front of you as he watched you carefully took small sips of the water. He smiled happily as he watched you before he nodded his head at you.

”Good. So looks like you got overheated and dehydrated on your walk. Where were you coming from? And where were you going?” He asked curiously as he tilted his head to the side while crossing his arms over his chest. His hat sat atop his head with a jaunty tilt and your eyes took him appreciatively before you looked up at his face as you saw the smug smirk on his lips.

”Came from my broken down car and I was walking to here. Thought I could drive it all the way here but it broke down on me about three miles back.” You told him in a raspy scratchy voice. He nodded his head at your explanation before slipping off the desk to stand in front of you.

”Alright finish that water and then come find me in the garage. I’ll drive the tow truck out to your car and tow it back here. We’ll take a look at it and see what we can do for you.” He said easily and you nodded your head thankfully.

”Thank you.” You told him softly and he smiled a lopsided smile at you before winking and then grinning before he left the office. You felt the blush on your cheeks at his teasing wink before you shook your head at his antics before sipping slowly at the water bottle.

When you had finished the water you tossed it into the small garbage can you found at the side of the desk before standing from your chair and stretching tiredly. You then left the office and made your way into the loud chaotic garage. There were multiple cars lifted on hydraulic lifts as men yelled and called out to each other throughout the garage. There were two men bent over the hood of an old Cadillac talking to each other as their arms were buried deep in the engine of the car. Another three men were standing at the side of the garage laughing at a joke one of them had told the others. Two others are peering under a large SUV as one of them holds a drill in one of his hands as they talk about something that you can’t hear. And then finally there is the man who had been in the office with you walking towards you with a wide smile on his face, your eyes take him in once more and you notice the swagger he holds as he walks and you can’t help but feel desire course through you. The man is sex on legs and he has a certain confidence about him that just draws you in each time.

”Ready to go get your car?” He asks with that smug smirk on his face again and you roll your eyes goodnaturedly causing him to chuckle softly at you.

”Yes, please.” You say softly, feeling the eyes of the other men on you as you step closer to the man in front of you.

”I’ll be back guys. Gonna tow a car in for repair.” He called out before he began to guide you towards the tow truck that was parked out front. “Got your keys and stuff?” He asked and you nodded as you patted your purse that hung over your shoulder. “Good, here let me help you up.” He said easily as he opened the passenger side door of the tow truck and easily lifted you up into the seat causing you to yelp and grab onto his shoulders as he smirked softly at you. “Love hearing that sound you make, especially when I cause it.” He teases softly and you gape at him silently.

He then closes the door once you’re settled in the seat before running around the front of the truck and hopping up into the driver’s seat. He grins at you before he starts up the truck and pulls out of the parking lot of the garage while loud rock music plays over the stereo.

”So do you live around here or something? Normally we don’t get a lot of business from people we don’t know.” He says loudly over the stereo and you grimace slightly at how loud it all is. “Sorry, Bin and Han like the music loud.” He says quickly as he lowers the volume on the stereo.

”I just moved to the area actually. Was driving back and forth from the city to my new place. I saw your repair shop on one of my trips back and forth and the engine light has been on since I hit the county line.” You told him and he nodded his head.

”Yeah that trip is usually hard on cars. Why’d you move from the city if you don’t mind my asking?” He asked as he kept his eyes on the road.

”I needed a change. The city is just so busy and I was getting burnt out from work.” You told him honestly and he nodded his head at your words.

”Yeah I hear that. So do you need a job? Or do you have something lined up?” He asked curiously as his eyes darted over to you for a moment before turning back to the road.

”Oh no, I have something already lined up. I start a remote medical coding position in a week.” You tell him and suddenly realize how open you’re being with him and grow slightly cautious but he smiles widely at you before turning back to the road.

”That’s pretty impressive. You had to do schooling for that right?” He asks curiously and you nod your head at his question.

”Yeah I went through a nine month program and got my certificate for it while working full time in the city. Then just began applying for jobs and found one that fit what I wanted.” You said conversationally before growing quiet once more realizing how much you had told him. He chuckled softly and you turned to look at him.

”I’ve been told I’m very easy to open to.” He said with a slightly embarrassed grin trying to make you feel better.

”You don’t say.” You said teasingly as you chuckled softly and he laughed loudly at your words before shrugging slightly.

”Call it my natural charm.” He suggested and you laughed softly at him while shaking your head.

”I’ll say.” You teased and he burst out into laughter again. “So since I’ve told you my life story so far can I get your name?” You asked him as you leaned across the long bench seat towards him and he grinned cheekily at you.

”Do I get yours in return?” He asked smoothly and you faked thinking about it before nodding your head.

”Couldn’t hurt. You already know more about me.” You said with a shrug.

”Name’s Christopher Chan Bahng. But you can call me Chris or Chan.” He said easily and you smiled at him as. You gave him your name as. well. “That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.” He teased and you laughed surprised at his flirting as he grimaced at it. “I know, I know. That was bad.” He admitted and you laughed loudly as you nodded your head.

”At least you realized it and I didn’t have to tell you.” You joked as you continued to laugh.

”Alright, alright chuckles.” He said softly with a twist of his lips as he pulled up to your car. “This you chuckles?” He asked with a grin and you smiled while nodding your head. He easily pulled the tow truck in front of your car before hopping out and hooking your car to the tow truck and then driving it back to the garage.

There two of the guys who had been joking at the side of the garage were waiting eagerly to get started on the car. They helped Chris get the car backed up into a bay and unhooked it from the tow truck. When you hopped out of the tow truck you heard Chris talking to the two of them authoritatively.

”I’m gonna be working on this one.” He told the two guys who looked over at him with confused looks on their faces before their eyes darted over to you and then sly smirks slipped onto their faces. The taller one raised his hands in faux surrender as they both quickly left to park the tow truck for him. “Have a seat over there. Can’t have you passing out on me again.” Chris says easily as he points to a chair set up against the wall near where he had parked your car. You do as you’re told and Chris easily pops your hood to see what he’s got to work with.

He easily gets to work and you lose yourself in watching him, he moves so fluidly and effortlessly that you’re instantly mesmerized by him. Embarrassingly he catches you staring a few times as the two of you talk while he works and he soon can’t keep the smirk from his face as you roll your eyes at him and try to keep the blush from your cheeks.

The way his muscles stretch and flex as he moves as your eyes raking over him hungrily and you try to keep your eyes at a respectable place on him but you find yourself checking out his whole body while he works. And when he gets on a small roller cart to get under your car you nearly groan out loud at the image he presents. Thankfully you’re able to bite your lip hard to curb the sound just barely from escaping your mouth.

”Alright I think that should do it.” He says as he slides out from underneath your car and you have to bite your lip once more as a whimper bubbles up your throat as you watch him move. “Let me just start up and clear the engine codes and you should be good to go.” He said with a nod of his head, you nod your head along with him feeling dread begin to fill you at the thought that your time with Chris was ending.

He easily slides into your car and starts it up listening to the engine turn over effortlessly and you grin brightly at him through your front windshield. His answering grin mirrors yours and relief fills you that your car is working again. When Chris cuts the engine and slides back out of your car he waves you over to the office on the other side of the garage and you notice the other guys watching you with knowing smirks and looks on their faces.

”So it was an easy fix and didn’t take long to get it done.” Chris says easily as he slumps into his desk chair while you take the seat you had originally claimed when you woke up in the office.

”How much do I owe you?” You ask and Chris smiles softly as he looks up at you while typing away at his computer. He quotes you a price that seems way to low for all the work he did on your car and you furrow your brow at him. “That’s all?” You ask and he bursts out in laughter once more.

”Well with the pretty lady discount and the good company discount it dropped it down to that price.” He teases you and you flush brightly at his flirting.

“Is this how you always do business?” You ask with a soft smirk slipping onto your face and he smiles softly while shaking his head no.

”Nah, you’re the first.” He admits and your eyes widen at his admission before you hand him your credit card. He grins softly at you before running your car and printing out a receipt for you.

When he walks you back to your car which is now parked in the parking lot in front of the garage you’re hoping that he’ll ask you for your number. After all the talking and flirting the two of you done all day you’re hoping it’ll mean he wants more with you. But as he shuts your driver side door for you and leans down into the window he tells you to have a good night and get home safe before insisting you come back to his garage if you ever have any car trouble. You feel dejected and disappointed when he doesn’t offer his number or ask for yours and you sigh softly before nodding your head.

”Thanks for helping me Chris. I really appreciate it.” You tell him honestly and he nods his head before standing straight and taps your car door twice before stepping back and allowing you to pull out of the parking lot. You drive home questioning if all the flirting was just to put you at ease and meant nothing to him.

*-*-*-*

The next week finds you back at Chris’ garage and parking your car in front of the open bay doors. You sit in your car for a moment surveying who’s in the garage today as you try to work up the courage to get out of your car and walk up to the office. You had been debating visiting the garage again but after a week of second guessing your every interaction with Chris you couldn’t handle it anymore. There wasn’t anything wrong with your car but you couldn’t think of any other reason to come visit him after he didn’t ask for your number.

Suddenly there’s a tapping on your driver side window and you jerk away from it in surprise and shock causing an amused Chris to burst out laughing as you roll down your window. His laughter fills your car and you can’t help but smile embarrassedly at him.

”What’s up pretty lady? Car trouble again?” He asks concerned while still smiling at you.

”It’s making a funny noise.” You tell him as you turn your head to face him your eyes darting around his face taking him in silently. You realize silently that you missed him and your heart begins to beat quickly against your rib cage.

”Alright pull her in to this bay over here.” He instructs you and you nod your head quickly causing him to smirk softly at you. “You always obey directions easily?” He asks teasingly and you suck in a breath for a moment before lifting your head challengingly.

”Only when it’s you giving the directions.” You flirt back and he stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before grinning widely at you.

”C’mon pretty lady.” He says as he begins to walk away with a soft smirk on his face.

Once you park your car into the bay he had told you to, he easily helps you out of the car and points to the chair against the wall and you sit there obediently causing him to smirk once more as you stick your tongue out at him. He laughs delightedly at your bratty attitude while shaking his head.

”Don’t tempt me with a good time sweetheart.” He teases and you shrug your shoulders at him.

”Must’ve not been a good enough time last time.” You snip out and he narrows his eyes at you for a second before sliding underneath your car on the roller cart. You hope he finds something wrong with your car since you knew you were lying to him and only wanted an excuse to come back and see him.

But it doesn’t take him long and soon he’s sliding back out from your car. He lays there for a moment staring at you with a knowing look in his eyes as his smirk grows smug.

”There’s nothing wrong with your car.” He states confidently and you hang your head as you sigh. You can hear his chuckle as he rolls himself over to you so that he’s able to make eye contact with you as your head still hangs. His amused eyes connect with yours and you dart yours away to stare at the floor.

”I needed a reason to come see you again since you didn’t ask for my number.” You grumble out softly and he chuckles delightedly at your words.

”Miss me that much?” He asks quietly and your eyes dart back to his to see him watching you amazed. “Didn’t think I had a shot with you.” He confesses softly and you scoff softly at him making him grin widely and lean closer to you still on his roller cart.

”Well you do.” You said with a slight pout on your face and his grin is still there on his face when he leans up and presses a chaste sweet kiss to your pouted lips. You hum softly against him and lean into the kiss as he cups your cheeks in his large hands.

”Forgive me?” He asks softly against your lips when he pulls away.

”Ask me for my number and maybe I will.” You say and he chuckles amused at your compromise. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to make up another reason to come to your garage.” Chris bursts out in happy laughter as he digs his cellphone out of his pocket and places it in your lap before pulling you down for another sweet kiss.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur

#my writing #stray kids #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan #skz x reader

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