#i even managed to track the sleep sessions when i had to walk for a minute to get cell coverage to turn on data

[clockworksheep2]

I forgot to bring my phone charger w me to friends house so I'm going to be missing a pkmn sleep session tonight for the first time 😭😭😭

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

CRUSH- D.GRAYSON

pairing: richboy! dick grayson x girly! innocent!fem! reader

part one here! part three here!

word count: 2.7k

summary: its the morning after your prince charming had swooped you off your feet, and somehow- dicks secret superpower is diminishing hangovers, by taking care of you.

warnings: sexual thoughts/ implications, kissing/ slight make-out session, pet names, mentions of masturbation, size kink implied, swearing, dick asks reader out on her first date and kinda acts like a sugar daddy lol, he's kinda a soft dom in a way...

Your head felt like a truck had run over it.

As if you had been tossed on the road, and a Ford F150 had slowly taken its time driving its tires over your head.

You woke up, still in your clothes from the night before, makeup smudged and jewellery tangled. Groaning, you slowly pulled each limb out of bed, feeling like a jello.

The clock hands ticked just past ten thirty, but it felt like you had got an hour of sleep, tops.

You were in definite need of a nap today, you thought to yourself as you slowly rocked up to your feet, tugging off your clothes from the previous night.

The fact you had worn outdoor club clothes in your bed… yeah, you’d need to wash your sheets today too.

You let the morning light that peaked through your thin curtains illuminate the path to your dresser, where you tugged on a new pair of panties and an oversized band tee. Kicking past skirts and thongs, you placed your head in your hands before you managed the courage to go out and brave the bathroom.

And the kitchen. But the thought of greasy bacon and eggs made you excited, just a little.

You creaked open your door, starting to walk to the bathroom before stopping in your tracks.

Oh fuck.

Dick Grayson lay sprawled on the couch, blanket covering practically nothing as he snoozed. His legs were spread, one out on the floor, the other over the arm of the couch.

And his abs… Oh god.

Here was this man- completely sprawled out in your living room- that you had completely forgotten about him staying- mind you. You didn't know why he stayed- the couch clearly was not suited for him- but you were glad he did.

You just needed to get things ready before he woke. And put pants on.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck…” you mumbled, feet pattering on the hardwood as you scurried to the bathroom.

What you didn't know of course, was the man was already awake- and had been for a while. He had learned to “pretend sleep”, so his roommates would leave him alone when they came home and he was in the living room.

You didn't even let the water warm up before you were scrubbing at your face frantically, like a mad woman before trying to fix your bedhead.

Soon he’d be awake, and you wanted to make him breakfast in bed (on the couch? You didn't know what the hell to call it).

It was the least you could do for him, for taking care of you. He was so sweet. It made your heart flutter, remembering how kind he was to you last night. And here he was on your uncomfortable ass sofa!

A true gentleman indeed.

You frantically rushed to the kitchen, seeing his body still splayed out as you darted to the kitchen, trying your best to be quiet.

“Fuck fuck okay make coffee, make him coffee and find eggs…” you whispered to yourself, making him smirk to himself. He cracked an eye open, shifting so he rested his head over the sofa, watching you silently.

You were in your own little world, trying to reach for a mug on the highest shelf.

“Need any help with that bun?”

You jumped, whipping around to face where he rested his arms and head over the couch back- a smirk on his face.

“You scared me! How long have you been awake for? I’m so sorry if I was loud-”

“A while. You werent loud sweetheart. Dont need to get yourself all worried about me, okay?”

He stood with a stretch, ruminging around on the ground before he found his target- tugging on his pants from last night. You quickly averted your gaze- covering your eyes with a hand as he tugged them on, pulling your fingers apart just a peak to try and get a glance.

You felt guilty but- oh well. You already saw him when he was “sleeping”. 

Heat spread throughout your body as he made his way over to you, trapping you in against the countertop- facing his chest as he reached up with ease to grab the mug you were after. You were frozen in place for what felt like forever, as if you were a statue, just marveling at the sight of him.

“T-thanks.” you managed to mutter out as he handed you the mug, cocky grin plastered across his face- knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

Oh but wait! Things get better! Your inner monologue shouted at you as his hand reached up to brush a stray eyelash of your cheek, rough thumb so gentle across your skin.

“You feeling okay?” he asked gently, knowing last night was… something.

“I’m okay. I have this throbbing in my head- like a drum. S’annoying.”

He snorted, grabbing another mug for himself.

“Yeah that’ll do it. Coffee will fix you up.”

“Do you not have a headache?” you asked, suddenly broken from your trance as he neared the coffee machine, reminding you of your duties before he decided to flip flop your heart around.

“Me? You’re cute.”

You frowned, forehead lines crinkling in a way that made him swoon. You were so adorable when you frowned. Like a little bunny, crinkling its nose.

“Thats not fair.”

“Sweetheart, one of us here is a lightweight, and one of us here is not. Thats the way it goes. Plus, I’m a lot bigger then you.”

You raised your eyebrow, flicking on the machine, the hot liquid beginning to trickle out into his mug.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm. And stronger too.”

You swallowed, the distance between the two of you becoming smaller, and smaller. You’re apartment wasnt exactly a penthouse suite, but it wasnt super small either. Yet, your kitchen felt like it was crammed with him in it, the room turning hot, your cheeks filled with heat.

“I-I think your coffee is done Dickie.” you murmered, watching as he reached right past you, grabbing the cup and taking a sip.

He drank it black. Of course.

Whistling a little tune as he opened your fridge, craining down to dig around in your fridge, as if he had lived here for years. “Do you want some fruit?” he asked, pulling out a container of berries, and a carton of eggs.

“Please. God I need a strawberry in my system, or I’m gonna crash out.”

“What- you haven't already?”

You lunged at his remark, wacking his bicep lightly, making him laugh. “Make me eggs or I’ll crash out even more.” you smiled, snagging the milk out of the fridge door to pour in your own coffee, adding some sugar.

Popular opposites, it seemed.

He raised his hand to his forehead, giving you a stern salute. “You got it sweetheart.”

----------------------------------

It was the best hangover morning you’d ever had.

You didn't even know those existed, but with Dick Grayson- they did.

He made breakfast in your kitchen, like it was his house. Serving up perfect eggs and toast, with your fruit- it was as if it was gourmet.

Planting a soft kiss on the top of your head, before serving it to you was the cherry on top.

The two of you talked as the sun steadily filtered through the clouds, laughter and utensils clattering. He was just- you couldn't even put your finger on it. It was like he was your boyfriend- honestly.

You just met him the other night, and here he was, making you breakfast and laughing at your stupid jokes after staying the night on the couch- AFTER taking care of you.

There was no sex. No trade offs, no nothing.

It made your head spin, at the complete 180 he seemed to be from most college guys. He was older, yes, but not by much. A few years at most. But he carried himself as if he was matured, older and wise.

Like he could get anything he wanted, if he talked slickly enough- which he always did.

You were captivated under his spell, watching his blue eyes sparkle as he talked, and the ink black strands that would fall in front of them.

He was smart, he was funny and he was oh so sweet.

You wanted him to stay forever, just as company- in all honesty. He was amazing company. The silence was never awkward, when there was some that hung in the air. He’d just admire you from where you sat at the breakfast nook.

“You’re so pretty. You know that? The prettiest girl.”

It made your skin heat, always looking down at your hands fiddling in your lap, when his compliments became overwhelming (they all did).

But when the coffee grew cold, reality had set in, and he had to leave. As much as it pained you to let him go from your safe haven, you knew he had his own life to attend to- and you had yours. But that didn't stop you from trying to convince him, nonetheless.

”I think you should stay.” you teased as you opened the front door, leaving it swung open- as if to coax him back inside.

He groaned. “Bunny, you know I’d love to. But-”

His phone started to buzz, and he rolled his eyes, fishing it out of his pocket. Tim’s name flashed across the screen, a man you presumed was his friend.

“Speak of the devil. I gotta get back to help my roommates with something I promised them sadly, but I promise I’ll be back. Okay?”

You nodded, stepping out from where you were shielded by the door, body coming into full view. His eyes darkened, as he saw your thighs that poked out at him from your t-shirt in the dimmed hallway lighting.

“I’ll text you as soon as I can. Would you like to get dinner sometime this week?” he asked, stepping closer to you, so your breaths were practically intermingling.

You crained your head up to look at him with wide, doe eyes- and he nearly melted into a puddle. “I’d love that Dickie.”

“Yeah I know you would. Now cmere, I wanna kiss you. That okay?”

You licked your lips as he slowly backed you up against the doorframe, caging you in as his hand slipped up to grasp your jaw, holding it gentle- yet firm.

“I’d love that.”

He chuckled. “Yeah? This okay sweetheart?” he breathed, leaning down so his lips were almost touching yours.

Before you could answer, his lips were on yours, the sweet taste of him sending shocks up your spine- nerves coursing on fire at the sensation, as his tongue coaxed your lips to part, begging for entrance.

You moaned, muffled by his lips as he swallowed you whole, consuming you as he gripped your waist, tugging your hips closer to him, so your back was arched against the old wooden frame.

You felt dizzy, when the two of you finally parted, your lips feeling flushed and swollen, a dazed look in your eye as you just stared at him.

Was that the best kiss of your life? Yes.

Were you going to tell him that? Hell no.

You knew his ego did not to be inflated anymore.

He smiled mischievously, like a feline as he planted a kiss on your forehead, and then another, before he turned down the hall. Like he didn't just sweep you off your feet, leaving you dazed like some swooning princess who had just found her prince charming.

“I’ll call you sweetheart.” he called, waving without a second glance, before he disappeared down the stairs, and out the door- leaving no trace of him but your flushed skin and the door swinging on its hinges. 

--------------------------------

Dick was hounded the second his foot stepped in the door.

“So? When do we meet her?” Tim asked from the living room, perched beside the IKEA boxes of parts for the new couch he was supposed to help put up (even though they could easily do it without his help).

He slammed it behind him, hard. “Don't even start.”

Jason let out a little whistle, not even sparing Dick a glance, though he knew the look in his eye would set him off anyways. “He really likes this one Drake. Means he’s gonna get all possessive and not share her with any of us.”

He tossed Dick a wink, making Dick clench his fingers into fists. God they knew how to get under his skin.

“He’s scared she’ll decide she likes us better, don't worry Dickie, I get it.” Tim called, watching as Dick rolled his eyes, making his way over to the mess on the hardwood floor.

“When do we need this done by?” he ignored Tim, starting to pry open one of the boxes.

“Uhh I don't know, when do you want a couch for?”

“I don't know why we need a new couch. Our old one was fuckin fine.” Jason grumbled, flipping a screwdriver between his fingers, even though he was strong enough to probably just press the damn nails in.

“Because it was disgusting and I’m tired of breaking my ass on a spring whenever I watch a game.” Tim mumbled.

Dick was in his own world, tuning out anything that wasn't the thought of you. He already missed your presence. Your soft touch, your sweet smell, the little noises you made when he kissed you, pressing you firmly against the door.

So close he could feel your hardened nipples brush against his chest, skin hot to the touch.

He needed to see you, and soon. Where the hell did he want to take you for dinner?

Up on the East end?

No, not fancy enough.

He needed something spectacular for you. Ideally, he’d want you ending the bed in his bed, in his car- he didn't care where. He just wanted you again, your lips and your pretty little sounds that he would most definitely be imagining tonight when his hand was wrapped around his cock.

He’d take his time with you, unravelling you like a gift. Whether that was on leather seats or memory foam mattresses, he didn't care.

He’d needed this extra special for you.

He’d call in some favours.

---------------------------------- It was nearing the late evening when your phone buzzed, the only name you wanted to see popping up on it.

You were all ready for bed, facemask completed, everything shower done, soft pjs on, nails painted and candle lit. Seeing his name flash on the screen made your heart flutter, and you quickly opened his message, not even bothering to pause your show before responding.

Dick: Hey pretty. Does Tuesday work for dinner?

You: Hi :) Tuesday is perfect!

Even if you had plans that night- you’d push them aside.

Dick: Perfect. Be ready for 8pm, sharp ;)

You: Yes sir:)

You watched his message bubble up, before disappearing again. Then it popped up again, a notification alerting you that he had sent you money.

Your jaw dropped.

This man had just sent you $800 dollars.

Dick: You’re gonna accept this okay? Or I’m going to be very upset and I’ll find a way into your apartment and hand you the money myself. Get yourself something nice for Tuesday.

You were gobsmacked.

How the fuck were you supposed to accept this?

You: Dickie… I don't think I can accept this. And I don't even know what to wear.

Dick: You’ll accept it, and you’ll find something. Anything you pick will be beautiful, I promise bunny.

Your hands were shaking as you held your phone between twitching fingers, in a state of shock. You had known this man for two days, and he was splurging $800 on you? You didn't even know how to respond.

Although to him, you supposed- it probably was next to nothing.

Here he was, making you play dress up to some date planned- that you were unaware of. You had no theme to go off of, no idea of what was happening.

You bit your lip, fighting a little more, even begging for a clue or hint of what to wear- but he gave you nothing. Claiming he wanted you to be authentic, to wear whatever you wanted.

It was too much creative freedom.

Your head swarmed with thoughts of all the possibilities, $800 was a lot of money, and you didn't even know where to start. You let yourself have a mini freakout, and be overwhelmed, before you tucked yourself under the covers, pulling out your laptop to start browsing Pinterest.

You had no time to mess around.

You had a crush to impress.

--------------------------------------------------------

eek so dickie is gonna go all romantic and take reader on her first date? hmmm ;)

@gwyneveire <3 if anyone else wants to be tagged i can try and remember to add you in the future!

[yukkiji]

almost professional

what began as just a job slowly blurred into something more—quiet glances, late nights, and words left unsaid. as his manager, you told yourself it was professional. but somewhere between the victories and the arguments, you fell for him—and deep down, it was clear you were never alone in that.

blue lock masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. isagi yoichi x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, aged up!isagi, manager!reader

wc: 6.4k

author's note: this has been long overdue and finally got the chance to post so i hope you can guys enjoy it!!

you still remember the first day like a punch to the gut. the sun was cruelly bright, your shirt collar too tight, and your nerves louder than the echoes of cleats hitting concrete floors. fresh out of high school, you thought maybe—just maybe—being a personal assistant to one of the blue lock managers would be more clipboard than chaos.

you were wrong.

blue lock was chaos incarnate. testosterone-laced competition and ego filled every inch of the high-tech facility. the atmosphere was thick with ambition—sharp and hungry. you’d barely been handed your id lanyard when you saw him.

isagi yoichi.

number 11 on his uniform. blue lock’s rising star. not the loudest, not the flashiest—but there was something magnetic about him. his focus. his hunger. the quiet way he stared at the goal like it owed him something.

he wasn’t the type who made noise with his mouth—he made it with every calculated movement on the field. his presence wasn’t loud, but it echoed. he wasn’t chasing greatness. he was planning to devour it.

you were just an assistant. a glorified water-bottle carrier and clipboard keeper, assigned to help one of the assistant managers with schedules, logs, media coordination, and the occasional locker room clean-up. you thought you’d blend in, unnoticed. invisible.

but he saw you.

you dropped a stack of evaluation reports on your second day—nervous fingers slipping on the slick folder edges as a few dozen pages scattered across the corridor like fat snowflakes. players walked past, too absorbed in their rivalries to care. he was the only one who stopped mid-drill to help you.

no words, just a quiet presence kneeling beside you, passing sheets one by one. his gaze didn’t linger, his tone wasn’t soft, but you felt something settle in your chest like a small, persistent fire.

that was the beginning.

the transition from high school graduate to someone responsible for tracking the life of one of japan’s future stars was brutal. you hadn’t learned how to run on four hours of sleep yet. every day was a barrage of unread emails, misplaced gear, and dodging the media. and isagi—bless him or curse him—never made it easy.

he forgot schedules. argued with reporters. trained obsessively until his body screamed for rest. he’d sneak in extra drills behind the training staff’s backs, ignoring ice baths and nutritional plans like they were optional side quests. and when he lost a match?

he’d go silent. not out of shame, but out of hunger. he disappeared into himself, chewing through his own failures in silence, replaying them like reels behind those sharp, analytic eyes.

you learned how to tell when a loss was eating him alive. you’d hand him water in those moments and your fingers would brush, and he’d look at you like he was trying to find something to hold onto that wasn’t made of shattered expectations. neither of you ever said much.

but he never made you feel like you didn’t belong.

that was the thing.

even when he ignored the schedule you worked all night on. even when he took off running after a grueling session while you were still packing up cones. even when he made your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with caffeine or chaos—he never once treated you like you were less.

he’d catch your eye across the field and nod, just once. not as an athlete to a staff member. but as isagi to you.

a silent acknowledgment.

a kind of understanding you couldn’t quite name yet.

you weren’t close. not really. but you orbited each other like planets too afraid to break the rules of gravity.

you told yourself it was fine. you were young. you were just starting. you had a job to do. professionalism first. you’d only known him for a few months, anyway.

but time stretched in strange ways inside blue lock. days felt like weeks. every win was a triumph. every loss a tragedy. you weren’t just growing up—you were burning alive in a forge.

and so was he.

you watched him sharpen. from the boy who knelt beside you on the floor, to the weapon who dissected the field with terrifying precision. you watched the rough edges smooth, then hone themselves into something more lethal.

and you wondered, sometimes, if he even remembered that second day—those papers, those soft moments.

because you did. every time.

every time he smiled at you like he forgot he wasn’t supposed to.

every time his gaze lingered a second too long when you laughed with another staff member.

every time he walked past you in the hallway and you swore you could feel him brush against your shoulder just to remind you he was there.

you weren’t a star. you weren’t a player. you were just someone orbiting the sun, hoping not to get burned.

and even though you told yourself not to—god, you did it anyway.

you started to fall.

you tried to resist it—buried it beneath early mornings, laminated schedules, and meticulously curated recovery routines. but how could you not fall for him?

for isagi yoichi, who burned with purpose and carried the weight of ambition on his shoulders like it was stitched into his very skin.

and then, everything changed.

it was a little over a year since you’d first stepped foot into blue lock—older, sharper, and more confident in your role. you’d stopped flinching at angry reporters and learned how to talk back to ego-driven agents with a polite, lethal smile. you’d grown, and so had he.

he was eighteen now. so were you. and after a string of phenomenal international matches, after climbing higher and higher through the blue lock rankings, isagi was officially signed to bastard münchen.

germany.

you found out through a press release.

you read it three times in your cramped dorm before the words sank in:

“yoichi isagi signs with bastard münchen.”

you were happy. you were proud. and you were… a little bit heartbroken.

you thought that was the end of it. thought the distance would finally bury those feelings that had grown too heavy to carry. you started preparing yourself to let go.

until the call came.

it was late.

you were organizing training reports in the blue lock archive room when your phone buzzed with a foreign number. you stared at it, hesitated, and picked up.

“hello?”

there was a beat of silence, followed by a voice that made your heart flip in your chest.

“it’s me,” isagi said. his voice was steadier than you remembered, deeper—like germany had already started shaping him.

you sat up straighter. “isagi? i—congrats on bastard münchen. that’s incredible.”

“thanks.” a pause. “listen… i didn’t call just to talk about the team.”

you blinked. “okay?”

“i had to submit the name of my personal manager today.”

you swallowed. “right. they usually assign someone local to the club, right?”

“i didn’t want someone local,” he said firmly. “i wanted someone i trust.”

your breath caught.

“you don’t have to answer now,” he continued. “but i told them your name. you're already on the shortlist. all that’s left is your approval.”

“i… me? why me?”

“i’ve worked with a lot of staff since blue lock started,” he said. “but only one person ever looked me in the eye like i wasn’t just a player. like i was a person. only one person stayed late making sure i didn’t destroy my body training too much. only one person handed me water and knew exactly when i needed to say nothing.”

you felt heat crawl up your neck.

“i need someone like that,” isagi said, quieter now. “someone who gets me. not just my stats or my brand. me.”

the room was too still. too small for everything you were feeling.

“i don’t know if i’m experienced enough,” you whispered.

“you will be,” he said. “we’ll grow into it. together.”

his words settled in your chest like a promise.

you looked around the room—the familiar concrete walls, the smell of synthetic turf still clinging to your hoodie. it had been your whole world. but suddenly, it felt small.

your world was already shifting, orbiting something—someone—much larger.

you exhaled. “okay.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “i’ll come with you.”

and for the first time in a long time, you could hear the smile in his voice, too.

“good,” he said. “because i don’t think i could do this without you.”

now you suddenly found yourself on a plane, seated next to him as clouds blanketed the window and the dull hum of the engine filled the silence between you.

it was surreal.

the flight to germany was long, and yet—somehow—it still didn’t feel long enough for you to fully process what had happened. you, barely out of high school, freshly promoted from an assistant to an official manager in training, were leaving your country for the first time. leaving familiarity behind. and for him.

yoichi isagi.

he had headphones slung around his neck and a german phrasebook half-open in his lap, though his eyes were closed, head tilted back against the seat. the soft light from the overhead fixture cast gentle shadows across his cheekbones—sharper than when you’d first met him. his frame had filled out too. the boy who used to eat protein bars at ungodly hours and fall asleep during video reviews had grown into someone entirely magnetic—focused, still humble, but no longer naïve.

your gaze lingered on him too long.

and as if he could feel it, his eyes cracked open.

“staring at me again?” he murmured, voice husky from sleep.

you rolled your eyes, flustered. “i was just making sure you’re alive. you haven’t moved in thirty minutes.”

he smirked, that signature lopsided grin that had charmed half the football world but still managed to hit you the hardest. “i’m conserving energy. coach noa’s training is going to murder me.”

you fiddled with your seatbelt to hide the way your heart flipped. “you knew what you signed up for.”

“so did you,” he said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “you sure you’re okay with this?”

you blinked. “with what?”

“leaving everything. coming here. managing me.”

you looked at him then—not the press conference version of him or the highlight reel, but the boy who had always run headfirst into the impossible, dragging you with him in the quietest, most consistent ways.

“i wouldn’t be here if i wasn’t sure.”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, he turned fully toward you, elbow resting on the armrest as he studied your face in that calm, intense way he always did—like reading between your silences.

“then i’m really glad,” he said softly. “because it’s always better when you’re there.”

you looked away before your face betrayed you.

“try to nap,” you muttered, pulling the thin airplane blanket over your lap. “it’s a long flight.”

he didn’t argue, but before he leaned back, his hand brushed yours.

accidentally, maybe. or maybe not.

and even though your heart thudded violently at the contact, you didn’t pull away.

you spent two years in germany—and in that time, you watched yoichi isagi evolve from a promising blue lock player into a name that echoed in bundesliga stadiums.

your days were filled with chaos and routine. waking up before the sun for training briefings. managing interviews in two languages. making sure his recovery meals didn’t clash with his ever-shifting macros. but in between the noise, there were quiet, defining moments.

late-night ramen in his apartment after exhausting matches. silences filled with trust, not tension. the way he’d knock on your door just to vent about a missed shot, knowing you’d listen without judgment. how he’d look for you after every goal, even if it was just a glance across the pitch.

there were arguments too. over his sleep schedule. over his stubborn insistence on solo drills. over that one time he played through an injury and didn’t tell you.

“you’re not invincible, yoichi,” you snapped, hands trembling as you held the ice pack against his swollen ankle.

“but i have to be,” he said, voice low, eyes meeting yours. “if i want to be the best.”

you didn’t reply. you just held the ice there longer, your hand warmer than it should’ve been.

and then, there were the moments when everything stilled.

like the time you got caught in a sudden berlin downpour after a match, both of you soaked and laughing under a bus stop with steaming paper cups of hot chocolate. he looked at you then like you were more comforting than the win he’d just scored.

or the quiet december night he bought a tiny, crooked christmas tree for your shared apartment lobby, just because “you looked homesick.”

your feelings for him grew slowly, like ivy—wrapping around your days, unnoticed until they were impossible to untangle.

and somewhere in those two years, he changed too. not just as a player. but in the way he always waited for you to catch up when the cameras pulled him forward. the way he always made sure you had a seat near the bench, even if you pretended not to care. the way he looked at you during team dinners—just a second too long.

you were falling.

and you couldn’t tell when it stopped being professional and started becoming personal.

but maybe… it had always been both.

now, two years later, you were back where it all began—but everything had changed.

you sat next to him on a plane bound for tokyo, the soft rumble of the engines beneath your feet, the skyline of berlin shrinking behind you like a memory. his duffel bag was stuffed under the seat, your shared itinerary tucked neatly into your folder. the cabin lights were dimmed for the long flight, and yet, the glow around him seemed brighter than ever.

isagi yoichi—japan’s golden boy. the face of soccer. magazine covers, sponsorship deals, fan chants that now echoed globally. his name wasn’t just on jerseys now. it was on billboards, in commercials, written into headlines.

you glanced sideways at him. his head was leaned back, headphones in, eyes half-lidded as if he could sleep. but you knew him better than that. he was thinking. planning. turning every play in his head like he always did.

the moment still felt surreal. the boy you met in that steel-and-glass crucible called blue lock, who once picked up your fallen papers, was now returning home as japan’s prodigy.

he opened one eye and caught you staring. a small smirk tugged at his lips. “you keep looking at me like i’m not real.”

you rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened. “just… hard to believe sometimes.”

he took one earbud out, shifting in his seat to face you more. “believe it. we’re going home.”

a pause.

“together.”

that one word carried more weight than you were prepared for.

you looked down at your hands, laced loosely in your lap. your badge now read personal manager, but it never felt like enough to define what you were to him—or what he was becoming to you.

“tokyo’s going to be insane,” you murmured.

he nodded. “the cameras, the press… the expectations. yeah. it’s going to be hell.”

you risked a glance at him again. “you ready for that?”

isagi turned fully now, resting his arm casually on the armrest between you. his voice was quiet, but his tone held that same intensity you remembered from blue lock—focused, unwavering.

“as long as you’re with me?” he held your gaze. “yeah. i’m ready for anything.”

outside the window, the stars shimmered against the dark stretch of sky. below you, tokyo waited—brighter, louder, and ready to welcome back its star.

and beside you, the boy you once admired from a clipboard’s length away was no longer just a rising athlete.

he was something else entirely.

and so were you.

you had become a constant in isagi yoichi’s life, a shadow moving with him from practice to press conferences, from early morning jogs to late-night post-match breakdowns. two years as his manager—and more—had taught you everything there was to know about him.

you knew the rhythm of his day. the exact way he liked his energy drinks stacked in the fridge. how he tied his laces a little tighter before every match. how he spaced out when he was thinking too hard, eyes locked on some invisible replay only he could see. you knew that the sharp edge in his voice didn’t always mean anger—it often meant fear. or frustration. or the unbearable weight of being expected to win every single time.

because with greatness came gravity and sometimes it pulled him under.

especially after a draw. or worse, a loss.

there was one night—after a particularly brutal draw that stuck in your memory. he hadn’t spoken much on the way back. the silence in the hotel room was deafening until he finally snapped.

“just—stop. i don’t need a manager right now, okay?” his voice had cut like a whip, sharper than usual. “i don’t need you hovering over me like i’m about to fall apart.”

you didn’t flinch. you’d learned not to.

instead, you leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression cool despite the ache in your chest.

“too bad,” you’d replied, your tone dry. “because you’ve got one. and i’m the only one on the planet who knows how to deal with your melodramatic, football-obsessed ass.”

there was a beat of silence.

then he’d laughed—a low, tired sound, like the fight had drained out of him. and when he looked at you, something softened in his eyes. you’d stepped forward, not saying anything, just standing there until the storm passed.

it always passed.

that was your rhythm.

he’d stumble, you’d steady him. he’d push, you’d pull back just enough to stay close. never too far. never gone.

you knew by heart how to deal with him.

when to speak, when to wait. when to leave him alone in the quiet of a hotel room, and when to press a steaming cup of coffee into his hands without saying a word.

you knew the exact moment when his silence meant he needed space, and when it meant he needed someone to stay.

you learned to read him like a game plan—fluid, complex, always shifting. but unlike a strategy on the field, he wasn’t something to be solved. he was someone to be understood.

and you did.

god, you did.

you were the first person he called when a match didn’t go his way. the first he texted when he landed a new sponsorship. the one he looked for in a crowd even when thousands were chanting his name.

you weren’t just his manager. you were his constant.

his calm in the storm. his quiet in the noise.

more years passed, filled with the same push and pull that defined your relationship from the start. moments that lingered too long. glances that said too much. every touch that could still be excused as accidental… but wasn’t.

your feelings grew like something wild and stubborn, untamed by logic or titles.

and his actions? they never made things easier.

some days, he treated you like a best friend—late-night ramen runs, inside jokes, the quiet comfort of shared silence. other days, he’d look at you like you were the only thing grounding him to earth, and you’d forget how to breathe.

so you stayed. through wins, losses, contracts, and chaos. your heart never quite sure what category you belonged to.

manager.

friend.

confidante.

something else?

now, he was part of japan’s national team. a global star. a name that made headlines and filled stadiums.

and you? still there, right beside him. still managing his calendar, his training schedule, and—if you were honest—his moods.

one late evening after practice, as he tossed his towel over his shoulder and walked beside you down the empty corridor of the training center, you nudged him lightly with your elbow and said with a grin,

“you know, with all this success… maybe you don’t need me anymore.”

he stopped walking. turned to you.

his brows furrowed, not in anger—never in anger—but in that intense way he looked at the goal. like he was zeroing in.

and he said, without even a beat of hesitation:

“that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

you blinked.

he kept going. voice low. steady. certain.

“i’ve needed you since blue lock. i needed you in germany. i need you now. not just because you keep me organized or sane or whatever… i need you.”

and there it was. maybe not a confession.

but a crack in the wall he always kept up. something raw and real slipped through.

you were silent for a beat, maybe two.

the hallway felt too quiet all of a sudden. like the world was holding its breath just to see what you’d do next.

and in the dim lights of the corridor, you thought—no, felt—something flicker across isagi’s face. not frustration. not his usual competitive fire. but something softer and something close to pain.

it passed quickly, like it hadn’t even been there at all.

but the thought stuck in your chest like a needle— was that hurt? was that the expression of someone who’d already imagined a version of his life where you were no longer beside him?

or maybe, once again, your heart was playing tricks on you. reading too far into the way his gaze lingered. projecting your own ache into the lines of his face.

still, your voice came out quieter than you expected when you finally said, “okay, yoichi.”

he looked at you then—really looked—and something in his shoulders eased. like he’d been waiting for you to say his name that way. like hearing it in your voice meant you weren’t going anywhere.

you tried to play it off with a smirk, stepping ahead of him down the hall.

“too bad you’re stuck with me,” you tossed over your shoulder. “you might be the star, but i’m the one who keeps you from spontaneously combusting in a press conference.”

that pulled a small laugh out of him. quiet. real. the kind that made you feel like everything between you was still unwritten.

still shifting. still waiting.

and maybe, just maybe…

he’d finally stopped pretending that this—whatever it was between you two—was just professional.

then you found yourself in his apartment again one night.

the familiar quiet wrapped around you both like a worn-in blanket. you were tucked into your usual corner of his couch, fingers curled around a half-full mug that had long gone warm. the low hum of the city filtered in through the half-cracked window, mixing with the soft sound of the tv playing some late-night program neither of you were really watching.

isagi was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch near your legs, phone in hand, thumb lazily scrolling. he looked… normal. human. in a way that the rest of the world rarely got to see. hoodie slightly oversized, hair damp from a recent shower, one sock half-slipping off his foot.

just yoichi.

not the prodigy. not the national team's frontman. not japan’s football miracle.

just the boy you had known since blue lock.

and maybe it was the comfort of being here, in this strange pocket of peace the two of you always carved out no matter what country you were in, or maybe it was that ache that had been growing quietly in your chest—something you'd never quite been able to shake—but the words slipped out before you could second-guess them.

“but i’m serious, yoichi…” your voice was soft, nearly lost beneath the static of the tv. “if i quit for real… would you even let me?”

his thumb paused on the screen. but he didn’t look up.

so you kept going, trying to keep your tone light, even as your chest tightened.

“you’re with the national team now. people are lining up to work with you. you’ve got agents, brands, the whole damn country watching you like you’re the second coming. you don’t need me anymore, do you?”

the silence stretched longer than you expected.

and then he moved—slowly, deliberately. he set his phone face down on the coffee table with a soft click, and leaned his head back so he could see you. his gaze wasn’t angry. it wasn’t even confused.

it was pained.

“don’t say that.”

just three words. but they hit like a punch to the gut.

you blinked, unsure what exactly you’d triggered. but he turned then, shifting to face you completely, still seated on the floor, his knees drawn up, arms resting on them.

“do you remember germany?” he asked, voice low. “that argument we had after i lost that match? when i was being a complete asshole, and you threatened to quit if i didn’t get my shit together?”

you gave a small nod. you remembered everything about that day. the way his voice cracked in frustration. the way you’d yelled for the first time. the way your hand had trembled when you almost handed in your resignation. almost.

he looked away for a second, then back at you.

“that was the first time i realized… winning didn’t mean anything if i couldn’t share it with you.”

you sucked in a breath, but he was still going, eyes locked on yours like he needed you to hear every word.

“it wasn’t just about you being my manager anymore. it was never just that. you kept me grounded when i was lost. you called me out when no one else would. you were… you are my constant.”

he exhaled shakily, then pushed himself up from the floor.

you thought he was going to walk away. instead, he stepped in front of you. and when you didn’t move, frozen in place by the rawness in his voice, he reached down—hands bracing on either side of the couch, caging you in without touching.

your heart thudded so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

his face was close now, close enough to see the tiny scar on his cheek from a match months ago. close enough to see the way his eyes softened—like everything he felt was finally being laid bare.

“every version of my future…” he said quietly, almost like it wasn’t meant to be heard. “you’re in it. you’ve always been in it. and i think—” he swallowed hard, “—i think i’ve been in love with you since back then. since before i even knew what to call it.”

you didn’t speak. couldn’t.

and maybe that silence scared him. maybe it emboldened him.

but then, he moved.

his hand reached up, brushing along your jaw with a gentleness that didn’t match the fire in his chest. his thumb hovered near your cheek, then slowly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear like it was something he’d always wanted to do.

“so if you quit…” he murmured, breath warm against your lips now, “…then i lose more than a manager. i lose you.”

and then he kissed you.

it wasn’t rushed or frantic. it was sure, quiet, and devastatingly full of everything he’d never said. everything he’d kept behind the wall for years. his other hand came up to rest against your back, pulling you toward him like he couldn’t stand the thought of you being even an inch too far.

you kissed him back.

because, truthfully, you’d been his long before you even realized it. and maybe he had been yours too—every late night, every argument, every quiet win and crushing loss.

the world outside could wait.

for now, there was just you and yoichi. no titles. no roles. no blurred lines.

just the truth, finally spoken between kisses that felt like promises.

he didn’t pull away.

not at first.

not when your breath hitched. not when your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie like you needed something to hold on to—maybe to ground yourself, or maybe to stop yourself from falling even deeper.

he kissed you like a secret. careful, but certain. like it was something he’d rehearsed in his head a hundred times but was only now letting himself feel for real. his hands were braced on either side of you, knuckles white against the couch as if letting go meant it wasn’t real.

and when he finally did lean back, it was barely a few inches. just enough to see your face, to let his forehead rest against yours.

“i’m sorry it took me this long,” he whispered. “i kept telling myself it was enough just having you around. that i didn’t need more. but i do.”

your chest tightened. not in a painful way—but in the way it does when something you’ve been waiting for finally, finally arrives.

“i wasn’t imagining it then,” you murmured, your voice hoarse.

he shook his head gently. “no. you never were.”

a beat passed.

you reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw, tracing the stubble that hadn’t been there back in blue lock, or even in the early germany days. he had grown—on the field, off it, into himself. and somewhere in all of that, your hearts had quietly kept time.

“i don’t think i could quit even if i wanted to,” you admitted with a soft laugh, blinking away the sudden heat behind your eyes. “you’ve ruined me, isagi yoichi.”

he smiled. not the smile he gave cameras or coaches or fans—but the one that only ever seemed to appear when you were the only one looking.

“good,” he said, nudging his nose against yours, voice hushed and thick with something unspoken. “because i don’t think i’d want to be anything great if you weren’t the one watching.”

your breath caught, your hands still resting against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it. his words hung in the air between you—bare, vulnerable, a truth finally freed.

for a moment, neither of you moved. the quiet of his apartment, the soft hum of the city through the windows, the golden warmth of the lamp casting gentle shadows—it all felt suspended in time.

then, carefully, yoichi guided you back, his palm warm at your lower back, coaxing you to lie against the couch cushions. his touch wasn’t rushed—it was reverent, like he was afraid if he moved too fast, the moment would shatter. he leaned over you, his body never pressing down, just surrounding, bracing one arm beside your head, the other gently cradling your jaw as he looked at you.

you searched his face.

there was no more hiding in it.

none of the usual restraint or boyish awkwardness. just yoichi, stripped of everything but the feeling he’d kept buried for far too long.

“i’ve thought about this more times than i can count,” he whispered, as if admitting it out loud still felt unreal. “told myself it wasn’t the right time. that i couldn’t… risk it. not when you were always there, always steady. i didn’t want to mess that up.”

your heart clenched, fingers reaching up to brush against the hem of his hoodie, curling there like an anchor.

“you never would’ve messed it up,” you said softly, voice nearly breaking. “not with me.”

his expression shifted—like something inside him had finally exhaled after holding its breath for years. and then he kissed you again.

but this time, it was different.

it wasn’t rushed or desperate. it wasn’t like the fleeting spark from earlier. it was slow. intentional. a quiet unfolding of everything he hadn’t known how to say before.

his lips moved against yours like he was memorizing the way you felt—savoring, grounding himself in you. you felt the careful slide of his hand as it moved to cup your cheek, thumb brushing gently beneath your eye. your hands found their way to his shoulders, holding onto him not because he was going anywhere, but because it finally felt safe to do so.

when he pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against yours again. his breath was warm against your lips, the faintest tremble in his voice.

“after our fight, my mind kept replaying these scenarios… all these versions of life where you weren’t there. and i hated it,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t know it then, but i was already unraveling at the thought of losing you.”

you stayed quiet, because your voice wouldn’t come—not with the way your throat tightened, not with the way his words were threading straight through your chest.

“i kept picturing the space beside me being empty. after matches. after bad days. on mornings when everything just felt… too heavy.” he closed his eyes for a second, like he was bracing himself. “and no matter how i tried to imagine it, none of it ever made sense. none of it ever felt right.”

your fingers slid from his shoulder to the curve of his neck, grounding him. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i was scared,” he admitted. “of screwing it up. of saying too much. of… not saying enough.” his eyes opened slowly, meeting yours again with raw, steady honesty. “but mostly, i was scared that if i let you see how much you meant to me, i’d never be able to hide it again. and you’d walk away.”

your heart ached—not because he’d kept it in, but because you knew that fear. you’d lived in it, too. the quiet agony of wanting something so deeply and never knowing if it was safe to reach for.

“i wouldn’t have walked,” you said gently, brushing your thumb across his jaw. “i was already falling.”

he blinked, stunned silence filling the space between you.

“you didn’t have to protect me from your feelings, yoichi. i wanted them. i wanted you.”

he exhaled shakily, like your words had loosened something knotted up inside him for years. “you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense in all of this. even when i was lost, even when i didn’t believe in myself—you always did.”

you smiled, a soft, bittersweet thing. “that’s because i saw you. the real you. not just the player. not just the dream.”

for a moment, something flickered in his expression—fragile and unguarded. a rare occurrence, like a crack in the armor of japan’s most relentless striker. the same isagi yoichi who the world saw as driven, sharp, composed under pressure… was now sitting in front of you with his heart trembling in his hands.

it was different, seeing him like this. not after a match, not in the glow of victory or the burn of ambition—but in the quiet, where there was nothing to prove. just him. just you. just this.

he gave a breathy laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah? even when i was being a complete asshole?”

“especially then,” you said, almost teasing—but your tone was laced with warmth. “that’s when you needed someone to see you the most.”

he looked at you like he couldn’t believe it. like he was seeing you clearly now for the very first time. “you always knew how to get through to me,” he murmured. “even when i didn’t deserve it.”

“you never had to deserve me,” you whispered back. “you just had to let me in.”

a quiet passed between you. gentle. tender. the kind that wrapped around your hearts like a soft blanket—worn in the corners, familiar, and real.

yoichi didn’t move at first. just stayed there, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to commit it to memory—every blink, every breath, every unspoken word lingering between you both. his thumb traced slowly along your cheekbone, grounding himself in the fact that you were still here. that you hadn’t walked away.

then, without warning, he leaned in again—not rushed, but with purpose, like his heart couldn’t hold back another second. his lips hovered just above yours, barely brushing, his voice nothing more than a whisper that trembled against your skin.

“i love you,” he said, the words breaking through him like floodwaters finally let loose. “and i’m sorry it was so late.”

the weight of it settled in the air. real. heavy. beautiful.

you blinked slowly, something in your chest pulling tight and warm all at once. because you knew—had known—but hearing it from him, finally, was something else entirely. like everything you’d poured into him had finally found its way back.

your hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers gently threading through his hair. “it wasn’t too late,” you murmured. “you said it. you’re here. that’s enough.”

his eyes closed briefly, like those words gave him permission to breathe. and then he kissed you again—this time gentler, but no less full. a kiss that said thank you, that said i need you, that said i’m not letting go.

his weight shifted slightly, his body still hovering above yours, arms braced to keep you close without crushing you—like he was afraid you'd disappear if he held on too tightly.

the world outside faded—no games, no pressure, no unspoken expectations. just the soft brush of his breath against your cheek, the quiet thrum of two hearts learning each other again.

he stared at you for a long moment, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. then he exhaled a shaky breath, lowering himself just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“i’m not letting this go,” he whispered, voice barely holding together. “not now, not ever.”

your hand found his, fingers lacing through his with a familiar ease. you didn’t need to say anything—your touch said it all. that you weren’t going anywhere. that this—whatever it would become—was worth holding onto.

he leaned in one last time, pressing a kiss to your temple, slow and steady, like a promise.

then he shifted beside you, pulling you gently into his arms, your head tucked beneath his chin. his heartbeat was a steady rhythm against your ear, his hold secure, warm.

you let yourself close your eyes. for the first time in a long time, there was no rush. no uncertainty. just the quiet truth of his love, wrapped around you like a shield.

you were here.

he was here.

and this time, you would move forward together.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Threes a formula

Word count: 660

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff x reader, feat. Jack

Summary: Y/n playfully teases Toto for oversleeping and missing FP1.

________________________________________________________

Chapter 8: Early Mornings & Sleepy Team Principals

The soft glow of her phone screen was the only light in the room as Y/n groggily reached for it, barely prying her eyes open. 4:30 AM.

With a quiet sigh, she wrapped herself in a blanket and tiptoed out of her room, making her way to the living room. The Japanese Grand Prix was always brutal for European viewers, but Y/n was dedicated—she had gotten too invested in the sport to miss a session, thanks to the wolffs.

She curled up on the couch, a hot mug of tea in her hands, as FP1 played on the screen. The Mercedes cars looked strong, but she couldn’t help but notice a certain absence on the team radio. Toto usually made his presence known during sessions, even if he wasn’t present, but this time, there was nothing.

By the time the sun had risen and FP1 wrapped up, Y/n stretched and made her way to the kitchen, deciding to start breakfast while waiting for FP2. At 8 AM sharp, she had the second session playing on her iPad, stirring pancake batter as the commentators filled the kitchen with chatter.

That was when she heard it.

“No sign of Toto Wolff this morning—apparently, the Mercedes boss slept in and wasn’t available for FP1!”

Y/n nearly dropped the whisk, her head snapping up as a slow grin spread across her face. Oh, this is gold. She thought maybe she just didn’t hear him on live but she was sure he was in his office communicating with the team.

She didn’t have to wait long. Footsteps signaled Toto’s arrival, dressed in sweats and looking far too relaxed for a man whose team was currently on track.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Oh, good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Y/n turned to face him, arms crossed.

Toto frowned slightly. “What?”

She gestured to the iPad, where the session was still playing. “Apparently, the mighty team principal didn’t wake up in time for FP1. How unprofessional.”

Toto exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It was 4:30 AM, Y/n.”

She gasped in mock offense. “And yet, I managed to wake up. And I am not the boss of a Formula 1 team.”

Toto gave her a dry look. “No, you just run this household.”

Before she could respond, Susie walked in, already dressed and looking far more put together than her husband. She took one look at Toto’s disheveled state, then at Y/n’s smug expression, and smirked.

“Oh, did Y/n find out?”

“She did,” Y/n confirmed cheerfully. “And I think it’s hilarious.”

Susie grinned. “So do I. Toto Wolff, missing in action. Imagine if the fans found out—”

“They did,” Y/n cut in, pointing at the screen. “Brundle mentioned it on commentary.”

Toto groaned, rubbing his temples. “Fantastic.”

Before he could defend himself further, tiny footsteps pattered into the kitchen. Jack, still in his pajamas, looked up at his parents sleepily. “What’s funny?”

Y/n bent down with a grin. “Daddy forgot to wake up for the race.”

At that moment, a shift in the air was almost palpable.

Susie and Toto’s eyes met over Y/n’s shoulder, something flickering between them—something heated, charged. It was subtle, but Y/n felt it, a strange awareness crawling up her spine as she straightened.

Jack, oblivious to the tension thickening in the kitchen, gasped dramatically. “Daddy, you missed it?”

Toto cleared his throat, finally tearing his gaze away from Susie. “Not the race, just practice.”

Jack placed his hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of his mother. “You always tell me to wake up on time.”

Y/n and Susie burst into laughter, but Toto’s gaze lingered on Y/n for a second longer than necessary, his lips twitching upward in something between amusement and something else—something Y/n wasn’t ready to name.

“I am never living this down, am I?” Toto sighed, shaking his head.

“Nope,” Y/n said brightly, sliding a plate of pancakes toward him. “But hey, at least you’re awake now.”

Susie smirked knowingly, fingers tapping against the counter as she observed them both. “Yes, wide awake.”

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Las Vegas GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- described SA, negative thoughts, and emotional themes in this chapter!!!!.

The brief nap in my driver’s room hadn’t been nearly long enough, but the sudden sound of my radio crackled to life, pulling me from the edge of a light sleep. "Y/N, you’ve got about 30 minutes to be ready, just a heads-up," Landon’s voice came through, his tone as routine as ever. It was a reminder I’d grown accustomed to over the years. Like clockwork, his words were the perfect alarm, shaking off the remnants of my exhaustion.

I rubbed my face and sighed, already feeling the weight of the day settle back into place. I’d been doing this long enough to know how to get into the zone, no matter how badly I wanted to just disappear from it all. The car, the track, the noise—it was all there waiting, and I had to show up.

As I walked into the garage, I took a deep breath. I was lucky this time—no sign of Henry. Just the usual buzz of the crew making adjustments, testing things, and prepping for the session. I quickly got into my gear, the familiar motions grounding me as I pulled on my balaclava and secured my radio. My hands worked efficiently, almost mechanically as I slipped the helmet on, shutting out the outside world and slipping into my routine. These few moments—just me and the car—were the only times I could fully collect myself.

Even though I could feel the usual buzz of nerves beneath my skin, there was a small spark of fear that lingered, too. The memory of the crash, even now, was like an echo. It didn’t matter how many laps I completed—it would always come back when I sat in the car, the sensation of spinning, the weightlessness, the uncertainty of it all. But I couldn’t dwell on it. I wouldn’t.

Before I knew it, I was on the track for Q1. My focus sharpened as the lights went out, and I pushed myself to hit every corner with precision, all the while keeping the car balanced despite the lingering worry. The team’s encouragement over the radio helped keep me grounded, and I made it through to Q2 with ease, the first hurdle cleared.

Q2 was a different story. The pressure mounted, and as always, the track began to feel more unforgiving. I pushed too hard in a few places, but I managed to find my rhythm just in time to secure a spot in Q3. It felt like a small victory in itself, and my confidence grew as I moved on.

When Q3 came around, everything clicked into place. I found my groove, the rhythm of the car syncing with the beat of my focus. The lap felt smooth, controlled, and when I crossed the line, I could hear the cheers erupting from my team. I had done it—I’d taken pole position.

The realization hit me just as I rolled back into the garage, my pulse quickening with the excitement of the moment. My team surrounded me, clapping me on the back and celebrating with cheers and high-fives. I allowed myself a brief smile, feeling the weight of the tension ease off, but I knew the real challenge was still ahead. The race was yet to come.

But for now, I allowed myself to enjoy the victory—at least for a moment. I was on pole, and the fans were cheering, and that felt like a much-needed reminder that, despite everything, I was still capable of greatness.

I pulled my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the door of my driver’s room, hoping to get out of the paddock before things got any more complicated. The adrenaline from qualifying still lingered, but I was more focused on the fact that I needed to step away from the chaos. The last thing I wanted right now was another run-in with Henry.

But as soon as I stepped outside the motorhome, I felt a familiar weight press in on me. Henry.

He stood just outside the doors, leaning against the wall, looking far too comfortable in his stance. As soon as he saw me, he straightened up with a grin that made my stomach turn.

"Y/N," he greeted me, his voice thick and unnervingly cheerful. "That was an impressive performance today. Really impressive."

I forced myself to nod, keeping my expression neutral as I tried to make my way past him. "Thanks, Henry. I’ve got a few things to take care of, so if you could just—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"Just a moment," he slurred slightly, the scent of alcohol on his breath almost overpowering. I grimaced inwardly, recognizing the signs. He was tipsy—maybe drunk—and his usual uncomfortably forward behavior seemed even worse now.

I yanked my arm back, keeping my voice steady despite the dread that bloomed in my chest. "Henry, I really don’t have time for this right now." I took a small step back, hoping to put some distance between us.

But he didn’t let me.

He took a stumbling step closer, this time placing his hand on my waist. His fingers brushed too close to my ribs, and I felt the sting of panic rise in my chest. I tensed, trying to push his hand away gently. "Henry, please. I’m just trying to leave."

His smirk never faltered, even as I stepped back again. He was getting too close, his body language predatory. "Come on, Y/N, just a little fun, right?" His tone was low, almost coaxing, but there was a sinister edge to it.

I was almost panicking, but I kept my voice as professional as I could muster. "This is completely inappropriate. I need to go." I stepped backward again, but he just followed, his steps unsteady.

The last thing I needed was for anyone to notice this. A confrontation with Henry would be a PR disaster, especially after such a strong qualifying performance. I tried to hold it together, tried to stay calm, but his presence was suffocating.

"Henry, stop," I said firmly, taking another step back. I could feel my heart pounding, but I didn’t want him to see that he was scaring me. I was determined to keep control of the situation.

He laughed, but there was nothing lighthearted about it. "You’re no fun, Y/N." His hand lingered on my arm again, his grip tightening.

I pushed him away, finally managing to break free from his grasp. "I need to go." My voice was sharp now, and I could feel the cold sweat starting to gather.

As I hurried away, my thoughts were scrambled, but I didn’t get very far before I heard a familiar voice.

"Y/N, everything alright?"

I spun around, startled, and saw George approaching, his usual relaxed smile on his face. But his eyes quickly shifted to Henry, a smug look plastered on his face even with the slight stumble in his step. George’s gaze hardened, and I felt a momentary surge of relief. “Of course she is, I was just trying to convince her to join the team tonight for dinner.” Henry slurred.

"She’s actually all booked up for tonight," George said smoothly, stepping in front of me as if he was suddenly in full protective mode. "Got dinner plans with me and a few other drivers. Nice place just down the road, so she’s got no time for anything else."

Henry seemed to hesitate for a moment, likely processing the fact that George was clearly taking the lead now. He shot me a last, lingering irritated look, but after a few moments, he reluctantly stepped back.

"Alright then," Henry muttered, waving a dismissive hand as he walked off. "Have a good night."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, grateful for George's quick thinking. "Thanks," I said, my voice shaky but sincere. "I owe you one."

George gave me a light shrug, not even a hint of hesitation in his smile. "Anytime. And seriously, if you need another savior with a good excuse, shoot me a text, and I'll come running."

I chuckled softly, feeling a little lighter. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As we walked together toward the parking lot, I felt the knot in my stomach loosen slightly, knowing I had someone watching out for me, someone who didn’t pry and ask questions but just had my back like this. 

I staggered into the hotel room, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The ache from the crash had only intensified, the bruises spreading across my ribcage in ugly, darkening patches. I sighed as I stripped out of my clothes, wincing at the soreness in every movement. My arms and legs were covered in smaller bruises too, scattered like an art piece made of pain.

I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, taking in the damage, my reflection a stark reminder of the crash. I couldn’t help but feel a small wave of frustration—this wasn’t just physical. It was the emotional toll, too, the constant fear and the weight of it all that felt just as heavy.

After a long pause, I finally grabbed the melatonin bottle from the nightstand. I knew I needed sleep, desperately, but my mind had been running a marathon. I wasn’t sure if the pills would help at this point, but it was worth a shot. I popped a couple in my mouth and sat back on the bed, sinking into the soft sheets.

As the medication slowly kicked in, I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my body. The exhaustion from the crash and the emotional rollercoaster of the day finally started to take over. My mind started to drift, and despite the discomfort, I let sleep pull me under, hoping for a few hours of peace.

Sitting in the car on the grid, the roar of the engine humming beneath me, I could feel the weight of the moment. The sun was beating down on me, but all I could focus on was the track ahead, the challenge ahead. This was another 'home' race for me, and I was determined to prove myself once again. I had to—this was my shot at securing a contract for next season. I couldn’t afford to let anything slip. I was ready to show everyone what I was capable of.

The lights went out, and my heart raced. I shot off the line, keeping my position for the first few laps. I held my ground, resisting the pressure from behind, until it was time for the pit stop. I made my way into the pits early, knowing it could be a gamble, but one I was willing to take. I didn’t lose too much time, but when I re-entered the track, I had dropped positions.

I didn’t panic. I pushed forward, finding my rhythm lap after lap, battling through the pack. The car felt great as I sliced through the traffic, my focus narrowing in on each car ahead. Eventually, I found myself locked in a battle with Lewis, who was holding P2. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined. I found a small gap, a tiny window of opportunity, and I took it. With a sharp move, I passed him, and I was in P2.

But George was up ahead, and he wasn’t going to make it easy. We exchanged positions a few times over the course of the next laps, both pushing our limits, both hungry for that top spot. I could feel the strain, but I didn’t back down. Each time he edged ahead, I fought back. With the final lap approaching, I knew this was my last chance.

On the last straight, the adrenaline surged, and I found that final burst of speed. I passed him. I didn’t let up. The finish line came into view, and with every ounce of strength I had left, I held my ground, crossing it just a few tenths ahead of George.

The radio crackled to life. Landon’s voice was full of excitement, the usual professionalism in his tone replaced by a genuine thrill. “You did it! You really did it! P1!”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a mixture of relief and triumph flooding my chest. I had done it. Another victory. Another race where I proved my skill. Wow. It felt so relieving to continue to prove my worth here again. 

The post-race routine felt like a blur, but as I made my way to the podium, the overwhelming sense of accomplishment started to hit me. The cheers from the crowd, the familiar faces of the team, and the weight of the trophy in my hands—it all felt so surreal.

Lewis had his hand outstretched, helping me step up to the top spot. I offered him a grateful smile. “Thanks, mate,” I said, trying to ignore the lingering ache in my body. My ribs, my arms, the soreness was still there, but I wasn’t going to let it show. Not now. Not on the podium.

As I stood there, my smile widening, the cheers from the crowd growing louder, the pain in my side made itself known. Raising the trophy, I grimaced for a second, the sharp sting reminding me of everything I had been through to get here. But I pushed through it. I couldn’t let anyone see me falter—not now, not when I had earned this moment. The crowd cheered even louder, and I forced myself to keep the smile plastered on my face as I held the trophy high, despite the discomfort.

Then, the familiar sound of my national anthem filled the air, and for a moment, I let myself just enjoy the sweet feeling of victory. It was just me, the podium, and the sound of my anthem echoing around the track. It was everything I had dreamed of.

But as soon as the anthem ended, the real fun began. I popped the champagne, the cork flying into the air, my focus now fully on spraying it at my team. They had worked so hard to get this car back in shape, and they deserved the celebration. The moment was perfect—until the Mercedes drivers, in their usual cheeky style, immediately aimed their own bottles of champagne at me.

I barely had time to react before they blasted me with champagne, the cold liquid soaking me through, temporarily blinding me. I laughed despite myself, the spray catching me off guard, but I quickly recovered and turned my own bottle toward them, retaliating with a spray of my own. The cheers and laughter from the crowd only amplified the moment, and for a second, I forgot about the pain, the struggles, and everything else.

It was just me, my team, and the victory that tasted all the sweeter with a little champagne in my hair.

Of course, that could never truly last long for me…

As I was in the middle of changing, the last thing I expected was the door to burst open with Henry stumbling through. The smell of alcohol hit me almost immediately, and I instinctively pulled my shirt down, trying to cover myself as quickly as possible. His eyes lingered a moment too long, and his slurred words fell from his lips with a sickening smirk.

"Come on, you know you can't escape me forever. You’ve been so... good to me, haven’t you?" he slurred, his steps uneven as he took a step closer.

I immediately reached for my phone, my heart racing, hoping to hide it. I wasn’t foolish enough to trust Henry, but I had the camera running in the back of my mind. My hand brushed the corner of the desk, knocking it slightly, but the lens was already facing the interaction. It wouldn’t be enough for him to know, but I was painfully aware of every second of the moment.

"Stop. This isn’t funny, Henry," I said, trying to remain as calm as possible. My hands were shaking, but I refused to show him any weakness. "Please, leave."

But he didn’t move. He took another step forward, and I felt the room constrict around me. His voice dropped lower, his proximity too much. "You know, it’s just a matter of time before you’ll stop resisting," he said, eyes gleaming with that sickening confidence.

I took a deep breath, my mind screaming at me to stay in control. I couldn’t afford for this to escalate any further. I reached for the door behind me, knowing I had to get away from him before it turned worse. “I’ll make sure this gets reported,” I said, my voice low but firm.

It was then that he hesitated, but his smirk only deepened as he brushed off my words. "Report it all you want, darling. It’ll just be your word against mine. No one will believe you," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

My stomach churned at the thought, but I couldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let him see me falter. I straightened my back, pushing all the anger and fear deep down, refusing to let him get to me. I had to get away from him.

“Get out of my way, Henry,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to keep my voice steady as I moved past him, aiming for the door.

But before I could get far, he reached out, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist. His grip was tight, too tight, and my heart skipped a beat. The panic threatened to rise up again, but I forced it down, clenching my jaw.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and almost predatory as he leaned in closer. “You really think you can just run away from this? No one cares about your little stories.”

I pulled my wrist hard, trying to break free, but he held on, his fingers digging in. The walls of the room seemed to close in around me as I realized I was trapped.

“Let go,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my breath hitching as I fought to stay calm. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled me closer, forcing me into the corner of the room.

I froze for a moment, the fight draining out of me as I realized I had nowhere to go. My mind raced, looking for an escape. My pulse thudded in my ears, my body fighting the panic, trying to keep it all together.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, voice laced with an unsettling calmness.

I had to think. I had to get out of this. But as he stepped closer, the knot in my stomach grew tighter, and I knew that the situation was slipping further out of my control.

"Come on, sweetheart," he slurred, his breath reeking. "Time to celebrate properly."

My heart raced, I could only hope my camera was still capturing us. "Henry, you need to leave now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. 

He was now pinning me against the wall by the waist. My stomach churned as his hands roamed, rough and demanding. I struggled, pushing against his chest, but he was so much stronger.

"Stop!" I yelled, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. "Help!"

His hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my cries. Panic surged through me, my body trembling with the primal need to escape. I thrashed wildly, my elbow connecting with his ribs, but it only seemed to anger him further.

The slap came out of nowhere, a sharp crack that sent my head spinning. For a moment, everything went quiet. I sagged in his grip, my cheek burning, mind reeling in disbelief. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

Henry's weight pressed against me, his hips grinding as he mumbled vulgar promises. I felt numb, disconnected, as if watching this nightmare unfold from outside my own body. The gleaming Aston Martin logo on his shirt swam in my vision, a cruel reminder of how far I'd come, only to end up here.

But then, a flicker of hope. Henry stepped back, fumbling with his belt buckle. In that instant, survival instinct kicked in like a surge of adrenaline on the final lap.

I shoved him with every ounce of strength I had left. Caught off-guard and unsteady, Henry toppled backwards, crashing into a table of warm up gear. I snatched my bag, my fingers closing around the camera, and bolted for the door.

The hallway stretched before me like the longest straightaway I'd ever faced. Tears blurred my vision as I ran, my racing suit a blur of green and silver. Behind me, I could hear Henry's angry shouts, but they faded with each pounding step.

I didn't stop running until I hit what felt like a brick wall after rounding a corner. I stumbled back slightly only to stiffen up again when two hands grabbed my biceps to hold me steady. Before I could react and push these hands away from me, I saw Oscar's worried face fill my vision. He slowly scanned my frame, most likely seeing how disheveled and frightened I was. It wouldn’t take a genius to know what I had just gone through. 

Oscar's jacket wrapped around me before I even knew what was happening, his jacket covering me like a shield from prying eyes. I was still trembling, my heart racing as I registered the events that had just occurred. I couldn't even look him in the eyes; I felt completely exposed, broken, and desperate to get away from everything.

"Y/n," he murmured softly, his voice low and gentle, "we need to get you out of here. Stay close to me, alright? Don't let anyone see you."

I nodded, trying to steady my breath, feeling the warmth of his jacket press against me, grounding me, even if only slightly. Oscar led me through the back hallways, ducking and weaving between corners, until we finally reached the McLaren motorhome. He opened the door to the driver’s room with a quick glance to make sure no one was around, and once inside, he closed it behind him.

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze not meeting mine as he set my things down and walked over to his phone. He didn’t ask me what happened—I think he knew I wasn’t ready to say it aloud yet.

When he returned, he knelt in front of me, his face filled with concern. "I’ll text the others," he said, "You just rest for now. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

I was still trying to gather myself, to calm the storm that was roaring inside me, but I felt a small flicker of relief. Oscar was here. He was helping, keeping me safe, and giving me space. I needed this—someone who wouldn’t push, someone who just understood without the need for words.

As he began typing a message to the others, I let out a shaky breath, trying to hold myself together long enough to make it through this moment.

The silence between us stretched on as Oscar typed away at his phone, probably texting the others in the group chat, but I couldn’t focus on that. Every breath felt like it was getting harder, the weight of everything pressing down on me until I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I broke.

The tears came first—hot and overwhelming, rushing down my face as I tried to stifle the sobs that wracked my body. My hands shook as I pulled them up to cover my face, but it did nothing to stop the storm. It felt like everything I had been holding in for weeks, months even, all came pouring out in one uncontrollable wave. The fear, the anxiety, the pain, the dread—it was all spilling over, and I couldn’t stop it.

Oscar was there in an instant, his arms around me, pulling me close. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix me, just let me crumble against him, as if he understood that this was something I needed to feel before I could move forward. I buried my face in his chest, the fabric of his jacket dampening with my tears. His steady breathing, his soft murmurs of reassurance—“It’s okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you”—grounded me slightly, but I couldn’t stop shaking.

I don’t know how much time passed before I started to calm down, but the tight knot in my chest was still there. My tears were slowing, but the ache in my body was still raw. Oscar was still holding me, gently running his hand through my hair, whispering words of comfort that barely registered, but they were enough.

Then, slowly, I started to hear voices—footsteps, first, then murmurs of concern and urgency. One by one, the other drivers started arriving, slipping quietly into the room. Lando was the first to reach us, his face serious, but he didn’t say anything at first—just wrapped me in a hug and whispered, “We’re here, Y/n. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Charles was next, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and anger, his usually calm demeanor replaced with something darker. “If anyone messes with you again,” he muttered, “they’ll have to answer to me.”

Carlos and George followed shortly after, their expressions equally grim, but their presence was comforting, steadying. They didn’t need to say anything, they just sat with me, giving me the space I needed to process.

But as comforting as their presence was, the feeling of helplessness didn’t fade. I felt exposed, like I was drowning in everything that had happened, everything I had kept bottled up. How was I going to fix this? How could I go back to my team, knowing what had been happening behind the scenes? How could I trust anyone again?

And then there was the other part—the part of me that wanted to fight back, to stand up for myself, but every time I thought about it, I was overwhelmed with fear. Henry had made it clear that no one would believe me. The thought of dragging the team into this, the media storm that would follow—it was too much.

Oscar, sensing my turmoil, pulled back slightly, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “We’ll handle this,” he said firmly, his voice quiet but resolute. “We won’t let him get away with it. We’re all behind you.”

It was then that the door to the driver’s room opened, and a new set of voices filled the space. Fernando and Max walked in, both of them with a fire in their eyes.

“We’re heading straight to Aston Martin hospitality,” Fernando declared, his tone brokering no argument. “They need to know what’s been going on. This has gone on long enough.”

Max nodded in agreement, his jaw clenched tightly. “We’re not leaving until they understand this needs to be dealt with. No one should be treated like this—especially not you.”

I felt a mix of gratitude and dread wash over me. It was comforting to know that they were willing to go to bat for me, but at the same time, the thought of confronting my team, especially with Henry involved, filled me with anxiety.

Oscar looked at me, his expression softening. “Do you want us to do this?” he asked, giving me the option to speak up. “We can do it without you, if you need some time.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please. I can’t—” I broke off, not able to finish the sentence. “Just…” My hands were trembling as I reached into my bag, pulling out the small camera I’d kept hidden away.

The moment I held it in my hands, my mind immediately flashed to all the times I had secretly recorded Henry’s behavior. His advances, his inappropriate comments, his threats. It was the only way I knew I could protect myself, but even now, the thought of exposing it all made me feel like I was about to collapse under the pressure.

I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to confront this, to bring everything to light. But I knew that I had no choice. If I was ever going to get out from under this, I had to show them the truth. So, with a deep breath, I took the SD card from the camera and handed it to Fernando.

“This,” I started, my voice shaky but firm, “is everything. The recordings, the videos...everything he’s done to me since sometime before the Mexican GP.”

Fernando’s eyes flicked between the SD card and me, his expression unreadable for a moment. He didn’t need to ask any questions—he understood immediately what it was. Without a word, he carefully took the card, and I could see the resolve in his eyes harden.

“Thank you for trusting us with this,” he said softly. “We’ll make sure it’s handled properly. You won’t be seeing that rat again.”

The rest of the drivers were silent, their gazes all focused on the small piece of evidence I had given them. For a moment, I felt exposed, but also relieved. The truth was finally out there. They had it. They would know what had been happening, and they would help me make sure it stopped.

Fernando stood up, holding the SD card firmly in his hand. He gave me one last reassuring look before turning to the others.

“Let’s go,” he said. “It’s time to end this.”

Fernando and Max didn’t waste any time, their faces determined as they marched out of the room and made their way to the Aston Martin hospitality. The rest of the drivers stayed with me, their presence an anchor I desperately needed, but part of me couldn’t shake the anxiety that was building up inside me.

The confrontation was coming. I just hoped I was strong enough to face it.

As the weight of the moment started to settle, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief, but also exhaustion. It had been a long, hard road, and now that everything was out in the open, the true weight of it all was beginning to hit me.

Oscar and the others hadn’t left me to sit in silence for long. They gathered around me, their faces soft with sympathy and determination.

“You’ve been carrying this by yourself for far too long,” Lewis said, his voice low but firm. “You shouldn’t have had to fight alone, Y/N. We’re your family, your grid family. We’ve got your back, every single step of the way.”

Lando nodded in agreement. “None of us should have to go through what you’ve been through. But you don’t have to do this alone anymore. We’re here for you.”

I blinked back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to fall. I didn’t want to break down again, not when I had come so far, but hearing their words, the honesty and love in their voices—it was almost too much to bear.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely above a rasp. “I—I didn’t want to drag anyone into it. I just didn’t know how to ask for help without risking Henry finding out.”

“You don’t have to ask, Y/N,” George said, his hand resting on my shoulder. “We love you. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. It’s our turn to help you now.”

There was a brief pause, and then Carlos, always the one to lighten the mood, gave me a smirk. “We’re all ready to destroy Henry for what he’s done... trust me, we’ve got some very creative ideas on how we’d love to pay him back.”

“I’d love to knock his teeth out, if I’m being honest,” Lewis added with a grin, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

“Not gonna lie, the thought of seeing him suffer is pretty appealing right now,” Lando chimed in, his tone playful but also tinged with genuine anger at what had happened.

The lighthearted teasing was exactly what I needed. It helped push back the dark cloud of panic and uncertainty, if only for a moment. But just as I was starting to feel like I could breathe again, the door opened.

Liam stepped in first, his eyes scanning the room before landing on me. His expression was full of anger, there was an unmistakable fire in his gaze.

“So, who’s this bastard?” he asked, his fists already clenched at his sides, ready to go.

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. “I—don’t know his full name, but... I only know him as Henry.”

Liam’s jaw tightened as he stepped forward, his gaze never leaving me. “I swear to God, if he’s hurt you, Y/N, I’m going to make sure he regrets it.”

Before I could respond, Franco walked in, his calm demeanor providing a stark contrast to Liam’s intensity. His eyes softened when he saw me, and he immediately crossed the room, sitting next to me. His presence, steady and reassuring, made me feel a little safer, a little more grounded.

“Hey,” Franco said gently, placing a hand on my arm. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart still ached. Franco gave me a small smile, then turned to the others. “We need to get Y/N out of here and back to the hotel. She’s been through enough today.”

Liam hesitated for a moment, the fire in his eyes slowly dimming as he saw my exhausted expression. He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. We’ll deal with Henry later. Right now, she needs to rest.”

Franco stood up and gently helped me to my feet, his arm around my shoulders in a comforting hold.

“We’ll take care of everything, Y/N. You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he said softly. “You’ve done enough. Now it’s time for us to take care of you.”

As we made our way to the door, I looked around at all the faces of my teammates and friends—drivers who had become my family in a way I never thought possible.

I had been so afraid of facing this on my own, so terrified of how it would all play out. But now, with them all here, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, I actually felt like I could breathe.

When we arrived back at the hotel, the overwhelming weight of everything that had happened today started to crash over me again. I felt like I was walking in a haze, numb and sore, and the room seemed to close in around me. The only thing that kept me grounded was knowing Franco and Liam were with me, even if they had their own way of handling things.

Looking nervously at them, I pulled out as much confidence as I could. “Would you two stay over with me tonight?” They both nodded, franco with a small adorning smile while Liam smirked. 

"I’ll be back in a bit," Franco said gently, looking at me with concern as he motioned towards his room. "I’m just going to grab a few things—some comfy clothes, you know, the sleepover essentials. I won’t be long."

Liam shot me a soft grin, his arms crossed casually as he leaned against the doorframe. "And of course I’ll be back, even if you hadn’t asked. No way I’m letting you sleep alone after all that’s happened. I’m sticking by you."

I gave him a tired smile. "Thanks, Liam. I—I really appreciate it."

With a nod, Franco disappeared, and I was left alone to gather my thoughts. The silence in the room felt suffocating. I could already feel the dull ache of everything that had happened creeping back, twisting in my chest, and settling into the pit of my stomach.

I couldn’t help but replay the events in my mind—the panic, the feeling of being trapped, the helplessness. I stepped into the bathroom, determined to wash away the residue of the day. The shower was my only sanctuary now. The hot water, the steam, it all blurred everything else out. I scrubbed at my skin with a fierceness that bordered on desperation, as if I could erase Henry's touch, erase the pain that had etched itself into my body and mind.

My skin turned raw from the scrubbing, the pinkness standing out starkly against the dark bruises that had settled on my ribs and limbs. But in a twisted way, it almost helped. It distracted me from the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. As if hurting myself physically could somehow numb the emotional pain.

Eventually, I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a soft towel, and began to change. The feeling of the fresh clothes against my skin didn’t help; I still felt the remnants of everything that had happened. But I took a deep breath, forcing my mind to focus on the present. Focus on the here and now.

When I opened the door, I saw Franco and Liam standing there with small bags of their own. Franco was holding a few snacks, and Liam had a box of takeout food.

"You good?" Liam asked gently, his voice softer, the angry edge finally gone.

I nodded, even though I didn’t feel good. "Yeah, just... needed a moment."

Franco placed the bags on the bed and gave me a reassuring smile. "I grabbed some things to help you feel comfortable. We'll just hang out here tonight. No rush, no pressure."

They noticed the raw pinkness of my skin, the lingering marks from the shower, but neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to. It was enough that they were here.

Liam opened the takeout box and placed it in front of me, his usual lighthearted demeanor back in full force. "We’re doing this right. Sleepover style. Junk food, bad TV, and no talking about anything that happened today. Just good vibes."

I couldn’t help but smile faintly. "You really know how to cheer someone up."

Franco sat down next to me on the bed, grabbing a pillow and fluffing it before tossing it behind him. "We’re just here to make sure you get some rest. You’ve had enough of a day, Y/N. So let’s just take it easy."

And for the first time in hours, I let myself relax. I ate, laughing with them over trivial things, and slowly, the weight of the day began to lift, just a little. Eventually, as the night wore on, I could feel the exhaustion start to settle into my bones, the emotional turmoil starting to quiet.

Liam, ever the charmer, pulled the blanket up over me once I finally laid down. "Get some sleep, okay? We’ve got you. And you don’t need to face any of this alone."

I didn’t have the energy to argue, or even to thank him properly. But I gave him a small, tired smile before I closed my eyes. The presence of Franco and Liam, the warmth of their care, felt like the last piece of comfort I needed to finally allow myself to sleep.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, I could rest. I wasn’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[neuvilette-tea-party]

₊ ˙ ⊹Steb x F!reader₊ ˙ ⊹

Headcanons Pre-Relationship part 2 SFW

Part 1

Again, I do not understand the logistics of this format. Starts as headcanon and finishes as a fanfic!

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

Steb pulls all-nighters with you when your exam to become a proper medic approaches, he writes tests and quizzes for you to take, preparing you a warm cup of coffee while your brain steams with focus. He takes time to correct them himself and highlights what you should focus on and what subject you mastered. 

He takes turns with the other Senior Medics to supervise revision sessions with the other junior medics at the barracks. He gives time to everyone but takes a little more time for you as your mentor. It’s less fun when it’s not him supervising the group you realize... You always push yourself more when he is around to show him how far you’ve gone under his tutelage. 

You want to make him proud! Sometimes you wonder if you work so hard for your own accomplishment or just for him to smile proudly your way...  

As stress rises in your veins he keeps an eye on your caffeine consumption, your sleep, if you eat properly, if you exercise enough... 

Steb takes out his collection of past papers he studied for his own exam to help you, he clocks you on the tracks, on the obstacles race, and meticulously notes down the various results of your training to make graphs for you to study after. 

With his mutism and stern expression you could think he is cold and haughty but he takes a lot of his free time to help and support you, and you are infinitely grateful for that. Rare are the mentors who go so far for their juniors. 

When he goes on a mission with Loris and Maddie you get bored and feel unmotivated... You need to feel his presence around, hear him moving his chess or Go pieces on a board, and the exasperated sighs of his defeated adversaries. 

Or just... Smell his salted musk when he walks beside you... You mentally slap yourself!  

Why is it so hard when he is not around ??! You let your face fall against your open book with a long tired grumble 

You immediately light up when he finally returns to the barracks safe and sound! Relieved and overjoyed. 

Steb will let you punch and kick his boxing mitts to your heart’s content and spare with you after each study session to relieve tension. Maddie grumbles that you stopped sparing with her and that each time she proposes you approve and go straight to Steb to invite him to join. You have no defense against her accusation. 

Do you really do that? Surely she’s wrong! 

Judo, boxing, taekwondo, kick-boxing, ect... You enter the ring together to throw yourself at each other, making the other fall or give up. Steb demonstrates impressive strength in those moments, locking you in his grasp and lifting you up to make you roll over his shoulder and back so easily that you start finding it ridiculous and frankly a tad insulting sometimes! It’s true you saw him supporting Loris’ weight several times without help. But still! 

But the most complicated for you to manage is when he ends up on top of you, his entire body pressed against yours, counting the regular 5 seconds to announce the round’s victor. He is so close you can smell his musk going straight to your head... making you gulp. 

His body is so pleasantly warm too... Maybe you should not think that when your mentor is pressed against you... 

You leave the ring exhausted and with muscles screaming. Steb notices and gently massages your shoulder, pin-points your muscle knots, and applies expert pressure to make them disappear. You cannot help but moan with relief, his touch is nothing short of magical and immediately all your tension melts away. 

When you turn to thank him you discover his cheeks tinted with a rosy shade. Loris asked him if he had a fever later in the evening. 

Steb is patiently waiting for you at the barracks doors to wish you luck when the exam is here, his hand on your shoulder and a tight cheering smile. You smile at him and place your hand on his gently “Whether I succeed or not, I could not have gone so far without your help, Steb! Thank you so much!” 

Whether pleased or traumatized by that touch, he is for sure bewildered by that sudden proximity.  

You hug Maddie and do your super secret handshake with Loris, Steb doesn’t lose a crumb of those two interactions. He feels strangely... displeased about it, almost... jealous. He observes his hand, feeling the ghost of your touch lingering. 

He keeps you in his mind during the examination, silently cheering you in his mind, losing track of the conversations with Maddie during their patrols. He knows which trials happen on which day, the precise hours, and even who the judges are. He had to refuse a position as a judge because you participated in this year’s examination, but he wanted to be here to see you perform!   

You’re allowed one call in the evening after the exam and before dinner and you do not call your family, nor your friends. You call Steb. 

He is eating in the canteen when someone warns him that someone’s on the phone for him. Him! The one who never utters a word! He picks up the phone with questions but instantly recognizes your respiration. It is ingrained in his memory. 

“...Hi, Steb!” You finally manage to articulate with your heart drumming so hard you are sure he can hear it through the phone. “...Hi.” He breathe back, feeling a bit gauche all of a sudden, but also very light. “I don’t want to take too much of your free time, I just wanted to retell you my day and how the trial went!” you explain with an audible smile in your voice. 

This is a delightful sound to his ears, he cannot refrain his cheek scales from waving. 

He doesn’t speak, only revels in your voice. He hums in response, signaling you that he listens to whatever you’re saying, leaning against the wall, hanging at each of your words, drinking any sound escaping your lips. Soon, too soon, you must hang out but you promise to call him back tomorrow. “Promise?” is the only word he said during that entire conversation, but by all the Gods of Runeterra he means this one. “Yes, I promise.” 

“The call was only for you?!” Maddie demands. It only now occurs to Steb that you did not ask him to bring Maddie or Loris to the phone... Nor did it even cross his mind! He shrugs at her, keeping the memory of your voice close to his heart while she grumbles. Loris, ever the diplomat, only asks Steb to transmit his greetings to you if you call back. 

You call him each day and each day he grows more and more impatient to hear your voice once more, your absence getting intolerable to him. 

He isn’t feeling like himself, like a piece of him is missing ... He is as stern as usual, but his ears hang unusually low like his shoulders, breaking the usually straight line of his posture. 

He fiddles with his chess pawns instead of placing them, reads the same paragraph several times without noticing, isn’t interested in finding another card game partner, and catches his mind deriving towards your face and the musical notes of your laughs without his consent... Sometimes he turns to look behind him when he doesn’t hear your footsteps at his side, forgetting you are not here. With him... 

Maddie and Loris look at him with circumspection while he stirs his dish with no intention to eat. “How much time since the exams started?” She asks, “6 days?” Loris responds, “Do you think he will survive the 3 weeks?”. She winces, unsure. They look at him suddenly standing up and heading towards the phone room in anticipation of your call. “He tries to hide it but he always has a struck dumb sparkle in his eyes when he comes back!” She comments in a truther tone, “He is hopeless at that point.”, “You are harsh Maddie. He has the face of a blessed man.” Loris retorts “I wonder more if (Y/n) Is aware...”, Maddie fixes the door Steb went through, squinting, “...No. I do not think so. He is too reserved to let it transpire.”, “He seems pretty transparent right now...” Loris notes. 

Steb comes back 45 min later with a dying smile on his lips but unable to hide his sparkling eyes. Maddie observes him silently before proposing, “You should Take (Y/n) on a date Steb! I know a superb bar with secret bedrooms, if you come from me the owner will make you a price!” Steb stops dead in his movements, his hand on the back of his chair, not even seated while he fixes her, mouth agape. He slams his hands on the table his ears shaking like a leaf, his cheeks fins undulating while a red shade spreads on his cheek.  

He tries to look offended, outraged even... But for now, he just looks busted! Maddie never lets that down, reminding him every day, and keeping him on his toes with a satisfied grin. Finally some tea on the Vastaya, she was starting to feel parched with all his secrecy and modesty. 

Maddie throws herself at you at the end of the third week, squeezing you so hard she lifts you up in the air, giving a discreet side eye at Steb, taunting him. You yelp with the lack of air in your lungs, “Hi, Maddie! I missed you too!”, “Oh, we were DYING to have you back, sweet thing. Someone left themself rot in despair!” She drops, grinning, while Steb raises an eyebrow at that comment. You chuckle together as she puts you down. You do the secret handshake with Loris before embracing him too, “I missed you, gremlin.” He lets you know gently, “Me too, Big Man!”. You turn to Steb with a beating heart, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, refraining from a big idiotic smile and a stupid blissful giggle to be near your... The Aquatic Vastaya, you correct yourself in your mind. 

You’re about to greet him politely when Maddie puts her elbow on his shoulder to lean on him with a satisfied grin, “Steb is desperate to ask you something.” Steb frowns at her, making her grin even more, “Don’t you, crickets?” She laughs as Steb gently pushes her away from him, Loris puts a finger against his mouth, pulling her towards the inside of the building to leave you both alone.  

You clasp your hands behind your back, feeling giddy in front of the tall man of your dreams. He looks at you silently like he does not know what to do with himself, rolling his hands into fists and relaxing them several times while he clears his throat. ‘’I do not have the results yet, if that’s what you want to know.’’ You explain with a laugh, feeling your body temperature skyrocketing just by his mere presence. 

Dear gods how you missed him, you realize. Steb blinks his third eyelids, letting his gaze detail your face that you feel growing hotter by the second. He suddenly gasps, noticing something. He tilts your head gently with his delicate hands and brushes a fresh cut on your cheek. You smile, ‘’My medal for the obstacle race in the woods! A branch slapped me.’’ You feel the tips of his fingers tracing the shallow cut almost tenderly, his worry visible on his face as the tips of his ears twitch. He opens his chest pouch and applies a band-aid on the ridiculously shallow cut like it was gushing out blood. You snigger as he lets the tips of his fingers trace your face from the cut to your chin, concern brewing in his ocean eyes. 

“I am ready for missions once again thanks to you!” You exclaim warmly, making him smile a bit, his cheek fins waving. “So what did you want to ask?” you refocus the moment. He blinks his third eyelid and takes a card off his chest pocket that he hands you. “Mmmmmh... Oh! An exposition cafe!” You read, “I never went to this one! You want to see the exposition with me?”. Steb nods, “And why would you want that?” You nudge him with a grin, “To celebrate my survival?” 

Steb feels his heart sprinting, he is not yet ready to face his sentiments and even less reveal them to you, whatever they are... If you pry too much, he might crumble. 

“Count me in, I love testing new cafes.” You bury your hopes behind a flashing smile, you’re probably imagining things... Your sweet mentor probably already has someone! You do not know if he noticed but you saw several people fawning at him in his back... How could you be mad at them for that? 

You’ll go as friends, and that is already nice! No need to stress yourself. 

“I can’t believe you really gave him the card of that love hotel posing as a cafe...” Loris chastises Maddie, “You should thank me! He was pitiful during those three weeks, he needs to make a move! You saw yourself how (Y/n) was looking at him, I say we’ll soon have interesting news, all thanks to ME! You are welcome, big guy!” She nudges him, internally praying for you both to not fuck it up and ruin her fun... 

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

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[glowettee]

💌 glowettee hotline issue #002: finding yourself after burn-out

(a few other details have been given to me, ex: elle woods dreams, however i didn't show that <3)

hi darling, hope you're having a lovely day!!

i'm so grateful you reached out with your question today, because it sounds like you're feeling so lost and burnt out rn. i totally understand how it feels to have been that motivated, gifted student who reached for the sky, and now feel like nothing is worth it. i've been there too, and i know that sometimes the pressure, burnout, and inner doubts can really weigh you down. so, hopefully some honest and detailed advice from me can help you get back on track with your schooling, reignite that spark, and start working towards your elle woods dreams. like being in a good headspace, working out consistently, and even acing those grades.

⊹₊⟡⋆finding yourself after burn-out⊹₊⟡⋆

by mindy @glowettee (glowettee hotline, submit here for personal advice: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline)

𐙚taking a moment to acknowledge your feelings𐙚

firstly, darling, it’s important to know that it’s okay to feel this way. burnout and feeling lost isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a sign that you’ve been giving so much of yourself and that you might need a little break or a new approach. sometimes we set expectations that are so high that when we’re not meeting them, we feel like failures. remember, your value isn’t determined by your grades or how perfectly you stick to your plan.

• allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling without judgement. • consider writing down your thoughts in a journal; sometimes putting our feelings on paper can be really cathartic. • remind yourself that this phase is temporary and that you literally have the strength to overcome it.

2. 𐙚reassessing your goals and dreams𐙚

i know you once had a sky-high vision and a deep motivation to be someone amazing. now, it might feel like those dreams are just too far away. but sometimes, our dreams need a bit of tweaking to fit our current circumstances.

• break down your big dreams into smaller, manageable goals. instead of focusing on becoming a straight a student all at once, set smaller targets like improving one subject at a time. • create a vision board (physical or digital) with images, quotes, and ideas that inspire you. having a visual reminder of what you want can help reignite your passion. • remember that it's perfectly okay for your goals to evolve. just because you're facing challenges now doesn't mean you can't dream big; it might just mean your approach needs to change.

3. 𐙚creating a gentle routine to ease the burn𐙚

burnout often comes when our routines get overwhelming. it might be time to build a daily ritual that’s gentle, supportive, and kind to your mind and body.

• start your day with small but meaningful tasks-- like enjoying a quiet cup of tea or a few minutes of meditation. • plan out a simple schedule that includes time for homework, self-care, exercise (even a short walk counts), and hobbies. try not to overload your day. • integrate movement into your routine in a way that feels fun rather than forced. you might consider a fun dance routine, a brisk walk with your favorite playlist, or even a short yoga session. • create reminders throughout your day to take breaks. a five-minute pause can do wonders for your energy. • set a bedtime that lets you recharge. sleep is crucial for healing burnout and for any brain that’s trying to keep up with the pressure of school.

4. 𐙚finding support in unexpected places𐙚

feeling isolated and like you’re nothing can be incredibly draining, especially when you feel like you’re handling everything on your own. i truly believe that finding a little support can be the key to rediscovering your inner strength.

• reach out to someone you trust: a teacher, a counselor, a friend, or even a family member. sometimes just talking about how you feel can lift a huge weight off your shoulders. • consider joining a study group or club at school that interests you. surrounding yourself with peers who share your passion can remind you how valuable your unique perspective is. • if you ever feel like your burnout is taking a toll on your mental health, know that professional support (like a school counselor or therapist) can really help you navigate these feelings. i know many wonderful people who have benefited from this kind of support. • remember that social media can be a wonderful place for community: maybe look into supportive online communities or even tumblr groups where people share tips on academic success and self-care. (i have a tumblr community: https://www.tumblr.com/join/E5N0qIqo)

5. 𐙚rediscovering your self-worth through self-care𐙚

self-care is so much more than a trendy phrase, it’s the practice of honoring your own well-being, emotionally, mentally, and physically. here’s how you can start to rebuild that lost sense of self-worth:

• create a self-care checklist that you can refer to daily. it might include: 1. writing down three things you love about yourself. 2. spending 10 minutes in meditation or deep breathing. 3. enjoying a favorite hobby without feeling guilty about it. 4. treating yourself to something small, like a delicious snack or a relaxing bath. • sometimes, the little things make the biggest difference. consider allowing yourself guilt-free breaks where you watch a short, funny video or read something that makes you smile. • remember that exercise and physical self-care go hand in hand with mental clarity. you mentioned wanting to work out consistently, maybe set a modest goal like a 15-minute workout a few times a week, and gradually build from there. • affirmations are a powerful tool. start your day by saying out loud, "i am enough" or "i deserve to take care of myself." it might seem silly at first, but these little words can change your mindset over time. (i have a post here: confident affirmations post)

6. 𐙚re-engaging with your studies𐙚

it sounds like skipping classes has now become a coping mechanism for you, but i truly believe you can find a way back to feeling engaged and motivated in your studies. here are a few tips:

• set small, time-bound goals. if getting back to a full schedule feels overwhelming, start small. commit to attending classes or studying for 20 minutes at a time. • create a study space that feels calm and inviting. decorate it in a way that makes you happy. a few pretty trinkets, soft lighting, or even a little plant can transform the energy of the room. • try mixing up your study methods. if reading aloud feels tiring, incorporate videos, podcasts, or interactive websites to bring the material to life. sometimes changing the medium can make learning exciting again. (i have a post for study methods i use here: study techniques post) • form a study group with classmates who motivate each other. you might be pleasantly surprised to find that others also feel burnt out, and together you can create a supportive environment where no one feels alone. • keep track of small wins. maybe your grades have dropped, but celebrate every little improvement, no matter how small. acknowledging progress can build momentum for more success.

7. 𐙚embracing imperfection and healing𐙚

it's important to remember that no one is perfect. especially during times of stress and transition. your past self, the intelligent girl who reached for the sky, still lives within you. she’s just taking a pause to breathe and heal.

• forgive yourself for not feeling perfect right now. let go of the idea that you must constantly be at your best. giving yourself permission to rest is a form of strength, not weakness. • gradually, let yourself embrace imperfection by trying new things without the fear of failing. each small step, even if it’s a completed homework assignment or simply showing up to class, it all counts towards the bigger picture. • involve yourself in activities that make your heart sing. sometimes, engaging in something creative (like writing, painting, or dancing) can remind you of the beautiful person you are becoming. • remember that healing isn’t linear. there might be days when you feel like you’re back to square one, and that’s ok. every day is a new opportunity to try again.

8. 𐙚planning for a brighter future𐙚

dreaming of living your elle woods dreams isn’t just about achieving the impossible, it’s about building a life that feels good for you. consider these points as you plan for the future:

• break down your dream life into actionable steps. maybe start with a workout schedule, then gradually build academic goals, or plan little self-reward moments when you hit a milestone. • research inspirational stories of others who faced burnout and came back stronger. in reading about how others’ve reclaimed their motivation, you might find the encouragement you need • visualize your future success. each night, take a few minutes to imagine your ideal day, feeling energized, focused, and happy. this visualization can work as a beacon of hope on tougher days. • maintain a flexible plan. life can be unpredictable, so allow your goals to evolve as you grow. sometimes, the path to success isn’t a straight line but a winding trail full of learning curves.

i know how overwhelming it feels when burnout takes hold, so here are 10, in-depth ideas from my own journey that i truly believe can guide you back to feeling motivated and inspired.

micro-adventure journal i started a micro-adventure journal at a time when every day felt like a repeat of the last, and it completely changed my perspective. instead of fixating on those huge, far-off goals that seemed so intimidating, i began documenting the little adventures that brightened my day. sometimes, it was just noticing the way sunlight reflected on my window during a brief walk or savoring a new flavor at a cozy coffee shop. writing down these moments, adding little doodles or quotes that resonated with me, slowly built up a treasure trove of memories. on days when you feel like nothing is happening, i promise you this journal will remind you that life is made up of countless small wonders that add up to something truly beautiful.

no-pressure creativity hour i learned that setting aside an hour solely for creative play can be magically healing. this isn’t about perfect art or fancy projects, it’s simply a time to let your inner child roam free, to explore, experiment, and laugh without judgment. i remember one day, i spent an hour painting with watercolors, not caring if i made any sense of it all, just letting the colors mix and blend in their own way. that creative hour lifted a weight off my shoulders and reminded me that learning and living can be playful. try dedicating a regular slot to just be creative, and watch how it helps dissolve the relentless pressure of perfect performance.

sensory sanctuary in your space i truly believe in the power of a personal haven, a little corner where you can retreat and simply be. in my room, i carved out a tiny space with soft lighting, a gently scented candle, and a comfortable cushion where i can sit with my thoughts. this sensory sanctuary became my go-to spot when the demands of school or life felt too heavy. each time i sat there, i let the gentle aromas, the quiet ambience, and the tangible warmth remind me that i deserve moments of pure calm. creating your own sensory oasis, even if it’s a small part of your room, can be a daily reminder that your wellbeing matters and that you always deserve a break.

unexpected wins jar i made a little unexpected wins jar during one of my most challenging periods. every time something good happened, even if it was a smile from a friend, a completed assignment i thought was impossible, or even a moment of self-realization, i wrote it down on a small piece of paper and dropped it into the jar. on days when negativity overwhelmed me, i would pull out one of those notes and read it, it would immediately make me happy. this simple ritual transformed how i valued small victories and helped me start each day with a better sense of hope and gratitude.

learning buddy ritual no one should have to face these overwhelming feelings alone, which is why i reached out to a friend who was also struggling. we decided to become learning buddies, meeting regularly just to chat, share our frustrations, and even tackle our schoolwork together in a low-pressure setting. we celebrated each small win together, and on tougher days, just knowing that someone else understood me made a world of difference. having a sincere connection like this helped both of us see our academic challenges in a kinder, more manageable light.

future-self letters one of the most touching practices i embraced was writing letters to my future self. during a very trying phase, i sat down and poured my heart out, describing my struggles, my hopes, and my dreams without holding back. i sealed those letters with a promise to read them at a later date, maybe a few months or even a year later. when i finally opened them, i was amazed at how much i had grown and changed; those letters became a time capsule of resilience and hope. i encourage you to try this, as it can serve as a powerful reminder of your inner strength and the progress that often goes unseen day to day.

regular energy audits i began scheduling weekly "energy audits" as a way to truly understand the ebbs and flows of my own wellbeing. each sunday evening, i spent some quiet moments reflecting on the week, what drained me, what lifted me up, and what small actions made a noticeable difference. this self-reflection allowed me to adjust my routine mindfully, prioritizing the moments that truly nurtured my spirit. you can learn to schedule your tasks and breaks in a way that honors your energy. it’s like having a personal blueprint that guides you to where you feel most alive.

⊹₊⟡⋆final thoughts⊹₊⟡⋆

i truly hope these personal tips resonate with you and help you reconnect with the brilliant, motivated self that’s still inside, even on days when you feel lost. each idea here comes from a place of deep personal experience, and while every journey is unique, i believe that these practices can create gentle shifts toward rediscovering your inner light. take your time with each one, be kind to yourself through the process, and remember that every small step forward is a victory.

sending all love and all the good vibes!! feel free to reach out anytime, i'm always here to listen and help you through these twists and turns.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[gaylordscooter]

Returned Taken and Missing

Blue closed the door to Killer's hotel room and quietly took a deep breath in and out. His eyelights darted to the folder in his hand.

He held it tightly as he headed out, waving to any passerby while he made his way to his motorcycle parked behind the hotel.

He put the folder into his inventory while taking his helmet out and hopped on his motorcycle to drive home.

It's been one week and four days since Killer, Dusk and Sans have moved in properly. One week and four days of checking in on Killer each day, either to just keep him company or to try to have a therapy session.

Key word: try. He wasn't always successful but at the very least, Killer’s comfortable with him now. 

To say this took up a lot of his time was an understatement. Even if Dusk and Sans did want his help, he wouldn't have had the time to juggle all three of them.

But he was making progress. Killer said he’ll go to Grillby’s with him tomorrow at dinner.

So far, the only time he would go out is during the dead of the night when no one else was out, or so he told Blue. He wasn't gonna ruin his already fragile sleep schedule just to confirm that.

He shifted gears as he gradually sped up, getting ready to jump to his universe.

He’ll have to look over Killer’s test scores once he gets home. It was surprising that he even agreed to take the self-report inventories he gave him. He just hoped he actually filled it out properly. Considering he did take his time on them (he didn't give them back until four days later) he had high hopes.

He was relieved once he finally made it to his house. His actual house, not Dream’s house in the Doodlesphere.

It was nostalgic being in here, even though his universe was nothing but a blank white void and this house was a mere copy that Ink managed to paint.

He was greeted by Hearts when he opened the door, the sound of his motorcycle probably gave away his presence.

He had that pout on his face that told Blue he was here to complain.

“Blue, darling, you were gone for so long I assumed you weren't coming back!” he whined.

“Don't be dramatic, I was gone for…what time is it right now?” Oh, actually, he's completely lost track of time.

“It’s twelve thirty-nine AM. The entire day you've been gone! The LEAST you can do is NOT leave me alone in an empty universe.”

Right. He completely forgot that Hearts couldn't get to other universes on his own. “Aw, jeez, sorry. Next time you should text me, or even Ink. I’m sure he’d take you somewhere.”

Hearts scoffed, “I don't care about going somewhere, I miss you!”

“Oh.” Blue could guess that he blushed a bit at that.

“This new pet project of yours has distracted you from the only important person in this multiverse.”

Man, he wondered who that was. “You?”

“Of course! Spending more time with those budget versions of you rather than me—that's very insulting, you know!”

Blue rolled his eyelights. “I hear your complaints loud and clear. Now move so I can sleep.”

Hearts huffed in displeasure but stepped aside anyway. “Your eye socket bags are so prominent it looks like you're wearing eyeshadow. Why do you bother trying to fix that guy anyway?”

“I’m not trying to ‘fix’ him. I’m helping him. Two different things.” He started walking up the stairs to his room, expecting the conversation to be over.

But no, Hearts followed after him. “Why are you trying to help him?”

“why does everyone ask me this?” Blue groaned.

“Because it's a foolish thing to do, darling.” The way he said that pet name sounded especially condescending this time. He had a special talent of making him hate and love the same word depending on the tone of his voice. “What about that ‘Dream’ friend of yours? From what you've told me, it sounds like he needs more help than he does. You're being a pretty bad friend, Blue.”

“was it foolish to help you?” he retorted.

Like he expected. Hearts was taken aback and went quiet for a moment.

During the silence, Blue made it to the door of his room. As he turned the doorknob, he looked at Hearts expectantly.

“Don't compare me to him,” he said flatly.

“sure,” he replied, just as flatly.

Hearts didn't grace that with a response and began to his room.

“g’night,” he added. Just because Hearts wasn't going to say it didn't mean he wasn't going to. He entered his room, closing the door behind him. He took off his boots and placed them beside his door.

He sighed. He hated taking showers this late, but he hated going to bed unclean even more, so he took the folder out of his inventory and placed it on his desk before grabbing a set of clothes.

After a quick shower, he grabbed that folder again and sat on his bed.

He should probably check this tomorrow instead, but he wanted to skim through it now just to make sure there was something to look at. Thankfully, it seemed the papers were all filled out.

He yawned, the weight of all the calculations he’ll have to do to score them made him even more sleepy.

He put the folder on his bedside table and stretched himself out before going to sleep.

Once he woke up, he sprang out of bed to do his morning routine.

For breakfast, he decided to just have some coffee. It was more like it was milk with a dash of coffee, honestly.

By the time he was washing the mug, Hearts arrived at the kitchen.

“g’morning,” he greeted.

“How long will you be out today?”

Getting straight to the point. “I need to score his things first. So I’ll be home for…awhile.”

Hearts rolled his eyes. “I need numbers, sweetheart.”

He wasn't precisely sure how long it would take. Maybe if he focused well enough and didn't get distracted… “Six hours, give or take.”

He saw Hearts grin.

“You can't be in the room while I’m scoring. His answers are confidential.”

Hearts pouted. “Oh come on. You expect me to bother peeking? I don't even plan on seeing him face to face, ever.”

Blue gave him an unsure look. “But you're really nosy.”

“If you don't want me to look, I won't look!” He said as if it was that simple. “I can be in the room.”

“I’ll take longer if you distract me.”

“And whose fault would that be?” He smirked mischievously.

Blue sighed. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well lose with grace. “Fine. You can hang out with me.”

Blue was beginning to regret letting Hearts be in his room as he did this. He was a huge distraction, and it was definitely Hearts’s fault.

He had to keep double checking Killer’s answers as Hearts chattered away, sitting at the edge of his bed.

He adjusted his posture, leaning on the headboard of his bed as he flipped through the pages.

The dissonance between what he was reading and what he was hearing threw him off. He felt bad not being able to take this as seriously while Hearts talked about how his mess of a “healthcare system” was when he was king.

At one point he had to completely pause to tell Hearts that, while music therapy is a thing, it is not blasting the same song to someone strapped to a chair until they stop “whining” that is torture.

A few grueling hours later he was able to get through all of Killer's answers.

His answers were consistent and appeared to be truthful. That being said, wow. There is a lot going on here.

He’ll have to get to scanning his code (and the other two’s eventually) soon. He needs to know if his code has been altered to see what approach he should take.

Therapy can only do so much when your code is specifically altered to mess with your head.

However, that meant potentially spilling the beans about the whole “being a character” thing. That was assuming Killer didn't already know. If he did, that makes this part easier, but if he doesn't, he might have to dance around the truth.

He's already in a fragile state, he doesn't need an existential crisis on top of that.

“So, did he pass, doctor?” Hearts bantered.

Blue put the papers into the folder and closed it as Hearts inched closer to him. “There is no ‘passing’ or ‘failing’ a self-report inventory.”

“Yeah, I know. I was joking.” Hearts brought his face close to his with a smirk. “You're not a doctor either.”

Blue narrowed his eye sockets. “are you being annoying on purpose?”

“Why, of course!” He yanked the folder out of his hand and tossed it across his room. “I gotta stay on your mind somehow.”

Blue rubbed his face with a hand and groaned. Alright, he got it. He wasn't giving him enough attention. “you're like a cat…” he mumbled. “Fine. After lunch, you're coming with me. I need to get something from Error’s place and I need my bodyguard.”

Hearts made a face. “Error’s place? You planning to die, hon? Has your client been rubbing off on you?”

“Don't joke about that!” Blue spat. “And NO, I told you, I need to get something from there,” he gestured with his hands as he spoke as if that’d help get it through Hearts’s head.

“I’m not exactly keen on fighting that virus, darling,” he pouted.

“Do you wanna hang out with me or not?”

Hearts draped himself over Blue with a long, drawn-out sigh. “We haven't hung out in ages and you're asking me to go over to that death trap just to be with you? How much do you think you're worth?”

“I’m thinking I’m gonna make an omelette for lunch.” Blue pushed Hearts off of him and stood up. He grabbed the folder off the ground and put it on his desk before walking out of his room.

Immediately he heard Hearts following him to the kitchen.

He even sat at the dining table as he cooked, as if he would make him something too. Well, he did. Obviously.

He brought two plates over to the table, sliding one of them to Hearts, who did actually thank him. He's been doing that lately, having proper manners.

He ate mostly in silence, until Hearts finally decided to speak, “So, what are you trying to get from there?”

“Oh just…someone's eye.” Now that he said it out loud, that sounded weird. “It keeps him alive, so. I can’t let that get erased.”

“Of course,” Hearts deadpanned, treating his statements like they were normal things to say. “And you're not just going in blindly, are you?”

“Psh, of course not! I have a plan,” he insisted.

Standing in the labyrinth now, Hearts wasn't so sure Blue was telling the truth as he blindly walked around while muttering to himself.

“Everything alright?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.

“yeah, yeah. I’m good. Probably just took a wrong turn somewhere…” He looked down at his notebook where he drew a map and tracked their position. “We’ll just backtrack,” he decided. Backtrack how far, he didn't say.

Hearts rolled his eyes, but held his tongue because the last thing he needed was for Blue to go into a full blown panic.

Even silence seemed to stress him out.

After a few more lefts and rights, Hearts spoke, “Do you know where we're going?”

“huh?” His question probably flew over his head with how focused he was on trying to find the right way.

“Are we lost, Blue?” Hearts asked.

Again, the question went unanswered as Blue walked faster down the blank hall.

“…ah shoot, did the place rearrange already?” he muttered. He stopped in place, tapping his foot on the ground rapidly.

Error’s labyrinth was a weird place. You couldn't simply portal in and out like normal, so Blue’s motorcycle wasn't helpful. Instead, cracks in spacetime throughout the universe would bring you right to it. The location it sent you to wasn't entirely random. With a code scanner he made, he's able to determine what room it leads to. Most cracks weren't big enough to enter, which was a good thing usually, but in this case it limited how close he could get to Horror’s magic eye upon entering.

Of course you could just provoke Error for a quick trip to the labyrinth but there was no telling where you'd end up.

There were also cracks inside the labyrinth, which were the ways out. Unfortunately they're nigh invisible due to the labyrinth being the same blank white as the antivoid.

Best way to get in and out was to simply remember the location of the crack you entered from.

Problem.

The labyrinth shuffles rooms at random intervals.

And it decided to do that now.

So now all Blue could do is pace in a dead end, expecting the wall that wasn't supposed to be there to suddenly disappear.

He thought he had everything under control. This was supposed to be an easy low stakes thing, but now he's endangered Hearts.

If it was just him, it wouldn't be a big deal.

He sighed, “i’m sorry, hearts, i really thought i…i thought—” He didn't know where he was going with this really. He thought what? That he was competent for once?

Hearts seemed mercifully calm, but he also remained quiet. The way he looked unsurprised unintentionally hurt a bit.

He put a hand on the white wall in front of him before turning around to lean his back against it and slid down to the ground.

Hearts walked over to sit down next to him. He placed a hand on top of Blue's. “It's alright, darling. You just need to stay calm. We’ve always gotten out of situations like this.”

And that was true. The amount of close encounters with death that they've had was too many to keep track of. Hearts was used to it by now. Really, it was like tradition.

It wasn't as if a mere maze was gonna take them out.

Blue leaned on him, not exactly looking assured. “...mettaton?”

Hearts looked down at him, surprised at him using his real name. “Yes, Sans?”

“am i—Do you think I’m…just a replacement for your Papyrus?”

The question caught him entirely off guard. He wasn't expecting to be asked this ever. “Of course not, Sans! What brought that up?”

“Uh, your question from last night, actually.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I didn't answer it. I don't think I’ve really thought about it that hard until after you asked.”

As curious as he was, the way Blue’s voice cracked made him feel guilty. “Well, you didn't have to answer it, darling. I was mostly teasing you. I know you like to help people.”

“i don't.”

Hearts heard him suck in another breath.

“I just…kinda feel like I need to because that's….that's what the original Blue would’ve done,” he spoke like he was treading on unstable ground.

The question he asked suddenly made sense.

“Darling. Sans. Look at me.” He placed a hand under his chin and gently guided his head up.

He looked seconds away from crying.

“You aren't a replacement for anyone, alright? You're you, and I love who you are.”

Blue remained silent, opting to lean closer instead.

Hearts took this as a signal to give him a hug. “Besides, you're nothing like that traitor, which is a good thing. I don't want to end up scrap metal anytime soon again.”

Blue managed a smile. “Thanks.”

They stayed there for a bit, taking a break to steel themselves before they braved a changing maze without a map.

Their break was shortly cut off when the labyrinth decided to shift around again. The wall they were leaning on disappeared, leading to Blue falling back.

Behind the wall, he caught sight of a pedestal with a container on top that just so happened to hold Sans’s magic eye.

Turned out he got the directions right after all. Sorta.

“Oh my god?” Blue mumbled.

“What do you think you're doing?” the unmistakable voice of Error boomed behind him.

Of course.

Hearts reacted faster than he did. He was off the ground in an instant as Hearts grabbed him and ran through the newly opened hall.

Blue managed to grab the container holding the magic eye as they passed by.

“HEY!” Error snarled.

“Where's the nearest exit?!” He shouted.

“I don't know! He's probably rearranged the whole place. Just keep running!” Blue replied.

They heard a mechanical screeching noise echo throughout the area.

Hearts came to a stop as walls violently slammed around them, preventing them from going any farther. “Well. You didn't plan for this, did you?” he asked.

Blue laughed nervously as the ceiling opened up to let Error drop down, sitting on a “swing” constructed from his blue strings.

He stayed high up to look down at the two with an unamused scowl. His flip-flops threatened to slip off from his dangling legs. “Intruding and stealing? Surely that gets you the death sentence in some places,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“i don't think it does…” Blue unhelpfully supplied.

Error flung a hand out. Strings shot out from it and wrapped around Blue’s soul. Right as he was about to tug him over, the strings were cut in an instant.

Error gawked when he saw what did that.

“Howdy, Error!” Ink said. He was right next to him, sitting atop a flying cloud of ink.

He instinctively jerked away from him, glitching in surprise, leading him to fall off the string swing and fall onto the ground a few feet away from Hearts and Blue.

He frantically got back on his feet and aimed a blaster at Ink, completely forgetting about the other two.

Ink easily moved out of the way thanks to the ink cloud he was on. He had that cocky smile on his face, as he often did when he wanted to piss someone off. He kicked off the cloud, sending it straight towards Error.

The poor guy didn't even have the chance to move before it crashed into him, covering him in ink. 

Ink landed softly and without any fuss, despite the height of the fall. He twirled the pair of scissors in his hand as he walked over to Hearts and Blue.

“Sorry to cut this fight short but we really gotta go,” he said.

Using the scissors, he cut open his own exit out of the labyrinth. He grabbed one of Hearts’s free arms and practically threw him and Blue through it, not even bothering to give them time to go through themselves.

“See ya,” He gave a quick wave and wink, before following after them and snapping the crack shut.

The two of them crashed onto the ground of one of the islands in the Doodlesphere.

The fall didn't hurt, but it did disorient Blue, so he stayed on the ground, clutching the container holding Sans’s eye.

Hearts sighed in relief at the change of scenery, but groaned when he saw Ink. He stood up and brushed himself off.

Ink paid no mind to Hearts and stared down at Blue with red eyelights despite the smile still on his face.

“So. Got what you wanted?”

Blue sat up. He looked at the eye and back to Ink with a coy smile. “Yeah?”

“Cool, cool.” Like a switch was flipped, the smile was gone and Ink’s expression snapped to anger. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from Error and his labyrinth!?”

He raised his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “It's not like you’d get something from there for me.” He tucked the container under one of his arms so that he could gesture with the other. “It ‘goes against the script’ and all that.”

“The script would be contradicted either way! Besides, that doesn't even matter because there isn't anything in the script saying you can't take Horror’s eye from Error’s place. I could've easily gotten it for you.”

“Maybe if you've done more favors like that for Blue, he would've thought to ask you,” Hearts chimed in.

Ink gritted his teeth and glared at Hearts. “Oh I’m sorry, are you talking to me? Last time I checked, it's rude to listen to and interrupt someone else's conversation.”

Blue’s eyelights flicked between the two. Oh no, they were starting to argue.

“Guys.”

They both ignored him. Ouch, okay. Maybe he spoke too quietly.

“That's rich coming from you. How many people do you stalk daily? You freak.”

“It's not ‘stalking’ it’s monitoring. It's part of my job.”

“You don't have a ‘job’. That's just your excuse to do whatever you want with your powers.”

“Oh, you’d know a lot about that, wouldn't you, your majesty?”

Hearts snapped, throwing an extending hand out towards Ink.

He easily steps out of the way, expression neutral.

“Guys, stop it!” Blue yells, on his feet now.

Hearts glances at him for a moment, looking guilty at the distress on his face. “You make me sick, Ink. I don't know how you got Blue to care so much about you when you didn't even give him his own name.”

Ink’s eyelights flashed a sequence of colors. He tucked his face into his scarf, obscuring his mouth.

“Hearts!” Blue got in between the two, keeping back to Ink. “That's enough!” Those words would be comical coming from him in any other context.

Hearts backed down, looking contrite.

Before Blue could say anything more, Ink started, “Yeah, that's enough excitement for me today. See you later, Blue.” He painted a hole behind him on the ground with the tip of his scarf.

“Wait, Ink, we're not done talking,” Blue protested.

“Yeah we are! Nothing more needs to be said. Besides, if you don't head home now you're gonna be late to your dinner with Killer. See you later,” he repeated through a plastic smile and stepped back, falling through the hole that shut the moment he was gone.

Blue’s gaze lingered on the long-gone hole in shock.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it. He looked at Hearts with a frown.

“...Let's go home, Blue.”

He sighed, adjusting his grip on the container. “Right.”

He didn't talk much to Hearts once they got back. It wasn't like he had the time to anyway. He had to get ready and head over to the Hub. He changed his clothes into something more formal.

He made sure to say goodbye to Hearts before leaving.

Before he went to Grillby’s, he drove over to Sans’s place. He rang the doorbell and awkwardly waited. Hopefully no passerbys questioned why he was holding an eye.

The door opened a moment later. Unfortunately, it wasn't Sans that answered but his brother.

He tilted his head up to see his face. “Hi, Papyrus, uh. Is your brother here? I kinda have something of his.”

“OH MY GOD??” Papyrus said in confusion upon seeing the eye. He cleared his throat, “WELL, MY BROTHER IS NOT HERE TO RECEIVE YOUR PACKAGE, UNFORTUNATELY.”

Riiiiight, Sans probably didn't tell him about his eye because he never tells anyone anything, Blue thought bitterly. He didn't wanna be the one to explain this, so he didn't. “Yeah, uh. I would just, put this in his room. Or something.” He extended the container out to him, which Papyrus gingerly took.

“OKAY. THIS IS REALLY WEIRD. THANK YOU ANYWAY.”

“Yeah, no problem. See you around.” He gave a little wave before leaving.

And now it was time to go to Grillby’s. He sure hoped Killer would be here like they planned.

As the restaurant came into view he spotted him waiting by the front doors.

He parked his motorcycle and then rushed over to Killer.

“Hi, Killer! Sorry if I’m late, I had some chores to do.”

Killer looked him over, surprised to see him all dressed up. Killer himself was dressed casually, but he was wearing a different outfit than yesterday so it was clear he put effort into it. “you're on time, actually.”

“Oh cool.” He opened the door and gestured for Killer to go in. “You ready to head inside?”

“sure,” he replied. He walked inside.

Blue took note of how nervous he looked. Hand glued inside his pockets, shoulders tensed, smile crooked.

He didn't have to do much convincing for Killer to do this so he hoped that meant that he was doing this out of his own volition. The last thing he wanted to do was to force Killer to do something.

They sat at a booth in the corner near the door, just in case Killer wanted to leave quickly.

Killer picked up the menu, flicking past the first page immediately. “this place’s menu’s bigger,” he remarked.

“Oh, yeah. Grillby has been adding more stuff. Everyone would get sick of the place if there was nothing besides burgers and fries.” He didn't bother looking through the menu, mostly focused on observing Killer's behavior. He’ll probably just order wings for himself or something.

Killer seemed to be calmer now that they’ve sat down, fortunately. His soul was stable and his eyelights were visible. He wasn't twitching nor was his smile forced to be wider than usual.

This is good. This is progress.

Killer did tell him that he had trouble going outside because his LV made him want to “strangle the nearest person on the street”. Given that he was not doing that and appeared calm, that probably wasn't something to worry about today.

Blue wasn't actually too sure how high LOVE affected a monster. Usually that didn't cause the urge to kill. It was easier to kill, yeah, but that was supposed to be it. But from what he's observed in Sanses from Dusttale and Something New, there was more to it.

He assumed it had something to do with their code, but he's never been able to study it.

Would that be weird to bring up during their meal? Asking him if he could look into his code?

Killer was able to order for himself. That was probably the first time in awhile that he talked to someone besides Blue.

“so, doc.”

Blue flinched at the nickname. Killer’s been calling him that from time to time. He didn't know why he had such a reaction when he was called that. It felt familiar—not as in he’s been called that before, but it feels like he's called someone else that. Someone he can't remember at the moment.

Blast his stupid memory.

Stop thinking about yourself right now. Pay attention.

“you good?” Killer questioned.

“Oh! Uh, yeah? I mean—of course. I am.” He assumed a relaxed position, resting his elbow on the table and his head on his hand. Geez he was out of it right now. Maybe nearly dying a few hours prior was to blame but that was hardly an excuse.

“are you gonna answer my question or do you have to think about it for another few minutes?”

Oh great he asked him a question and he didn't hear it! “Sorry, I kinda forgot what you asked…”

“i asked if you got around to looking at those surveys you told me to fill out.”

“I have!” he said too loudly and too enthusiastically. He cleared his metaphorical throat. “I did, yes. I shouldn't talk about it right now, for privacy's sake.”

Killer hummed in understanding. “so is this dinner just gonna be a normal outing? you don't plan on analyzing my every move?”

Well, he kinda was doing that out of habit but he didn't mean to. “Yeah, we're just hanging out, y’know? Like friends.”

Killer tilted his head, exhaling air through his nasal cavity. He didn't comment on Blue hinting that they were friends.

Judging by his reaction, he probably didn't consider him a friend. That was fair.

He thought over their orders. Killer ordered…a salad and an appetizer of calamari. Both foods Sanses don't tend to get, which was usual for him.

He's never explicitly said it out loud, but he's noticed that Killer has an aversion to “typical Sans foods” like burgers, fries, ketchup and especially spaghetti.

Blue chalked it up to him hating reminders of his past, given how little he talks about it.

He’s kinda worried that he won't like any of the food since it's cooked by Grillby. Would that make it too familiar?

As they waited for their food, Killer’s eyelights kept darting to the side. They seemed to be fixed on something behind Blue. He even seemed to lean closer and squint his eyes.

Blue took that as an excuse to turn around too. If he wasn't being subtle, he didn't have to be either.

Oh.

Dusk was sitting at the bar next to a few regulars. He understood why Killer was squinting now. It was hard to recognize Dusk now, without his hood on.

And with how happy he looked.

Blue whipped back around quickly.

There was fresh rotten determination leaking out of his sockets, flowing over the dried lines made in the past. There was even a thin line dripping from his nasal cavity.

Instinctively, Blue looked down at Killer’s soul. It was still the normal shape of a monster's soul, at least.

Killer cleared his throat. “well,” his voice sounded raspier, probably because determination was pooling in his mouth too, “i didn't expect him to be here. or out at all.”

Blue wasn't sure how to respond. He racked his metaphorical brain for ideas. Maybe he should provide an out? That sounded right. “If…you wanna leave just let me know.”

Killer stayed quiet, gaze still on Dusk, who was very engrossed in the conversation he was having with those other monsters Killer didn't know—oh wait, the tall one sitting right next to him was a Papyrus. How quaint. Every bone in his body screamed different things.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to get up and talk to Dusk. He wanted to strangle someone, he wasn't sure who exactly. He just wanted his hands busy before he digs them into the table and cracks it. Already, he was scratching it.

He felt…complicated, seeing Dusk.

He looked so much more relaxed with those other monsters.

It hit him. He was jealous.

He sighed, bringing his hands to his face and resting his elbows on the table.

Blue helpfully moved Killer's plate and cutlery away from his arms so they could rest comfortably.

They haven't seen each other since Dusk moved. It hasn't even been too long, how is Dusk barely recognizable to him?

Was he really that bad for him?

He felt a tap on his arm. He brought his hands away from his face, bringing his attention to Blue.

“You were, uh, gripping your face a bit roughly,” he remarked. “Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.”

Killer almost laughed but it came out more like a hmph. Too late for that.

Blue winced, smile askew.

Oh, shit. He said that out loud.

He cleared his throat again and grabbed his fork. “when the hell’s our food getting here?”

God, of course he nearly hurt himself over the sight of seeing him.Typical. What a manipulative fuck he was. Stop doing that. You're awful.

Blue gently took the fork from his hand. He probably was worried he was gonna stab himself with it.

Now that he thought about it, this is all Dusk’s fault. If he didn't leave, he wouldn't be reacting like this. How could he just leave him like that?

And how the hell could he replace his brother? His own brother that he killed.

Yeah, he wasn't the awful one, Dusk was.

Killer stood up without thinking about it, catching Blue off guard.

“Oh, uh. Do you wanna leave now?”

His question went unanswered again as Killer stepped away from the booth and towards the bar.

Blue’s metaphorical stomach tightened as he realized Killer wasn't going towards the exit. He rushed to get up and followed after him. As he thought about it, he didn't actually know why he followed him. He wasn't sure what he expected Killer to do, but if it was a fight he didn't really have much of a chance at breaking them up.

As Killer approached Dusk, his demeanor changed into a falsely confident one. He cleared his throat to get his attention.

Dusk flinched upon the sound of his voice, taking a moment before he turned around to face him. His white eyelights immediately flickered back to the familiar mismatched ones and his smile faltered.

Killer compensated for it by making his own smile wider. He smiled with his eyes too. His sockets looked like crescents, or frowns.

“hey, it's been awhile.”

A week and four days. Is that really a while? It felt like it.

Dusk stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

The Papyrus turned around too, which Killer didn't account for.

“OH, SORRY, HE DOESN’T REALLY TALK TO STRANGERS. I PROMISE HE ISN’T BEING RUDE, TO YOU SPECIFICALLY AT LEAST.”

Killer’s smile fell. Surely, if he had a heart it would've stopped at that moment.

Blue ground his teeth together, debating taking a step back or something.

This was the part where Killer would laugh it off and then correct the Papyrus and tell him that they were actually not strangers and in fact knew each other better than he could ever.

But he didn't.

Dusk didn't talk about him. He never mentioned him to this Papyrus, who was supposedly acquainted with him. Did he not want to be associated with him anymore?

He decided to act shocked, not at what the Papyrus said or at the way Dusk looked at him like a mere stranger. “oh, sorry, i mistook him for another guy.” He turned around, eyelights locking with Blue’s. The relief in his face that Blue was right there behind him was undeniable.

He pulled him close, arm around his waist. Blue squeaked in surprise. “yeah, sorry. from behind he looked like my boyfriend.” He glared at Dusk, who looked like he was about to say something, so he spoke before he could, “sorry for bothering you.” He turned himself and Blue around quickly to walk towards the exit.

The whole way Blue sputtered incomprehensibly.

It wasn't until they left Grillby’s that Blue managed a sentence.

“I-I DON’T? I’M NOT—WE’RE NOT—WHA-WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

Hardly.

“i know right? i can't believe he acted like he didn't know me.”

“YOU—THAT’S NOT!” Blue groaned and massaged his forehead. “That's Not What I’m Talking About, Killer,” he said through gritted teeth.

“oh yeah. lying about you being my boyfriend. listen, had to get back at him somehow.” He shrugged as if that justified that. “what, am i that ugly you can't stomach the thought of that?”

Blue took a deep breath in and out. He could NOT believe this! ACTUALLY HE COULD, or else he'd be a pretty shoddy therapist, which he probably is, actually. He didn't want to believe this. Getting roped into this drama between the two of them wasn't something he accounted for when he planned to go to Grillby’s with Killer.

He should've! He knows Dusk frequents the place!

Killer scratched at his nasal cavity. “so, you giving up on me, doc?”

“No.” That came out more like a sigh than a confident assurance. “And stop acting that I will.” An idea came to mind. “Since Grillby’s is off the table for now, do you wanna hang out at my place?”

“we can't just go back to my room?”

“You spend too much time in your room. So no. Besides, you need to meet at least one new person today.”

“wait, you live with someone?” He sounded so surprised it was borderline insulting.

“Yeah,” he said sharply. He took out his phone, sending a text to Hearts that there was a change of plans and that he was going to come home soon with Killer.

Of course Hearts was quick to respond with complaints. He turned off his phone. They’ll burn that bridge when they get to it.

Getting Killer seated on his motorcycle securely was more of a challenge than it should've been. Hearts, who was more than twice his height, didn't have any problems staying on.

He shifted gears, trying to speed up as gradually as he could. “Killer, you're gonna need to hold onto me if you don't wanna fall off when I go faster.”

Blue could sense the smirk on his face without looking at him. “Don't get it twisted.”

“well—”

“JUST WRAP YOUR ARMS AROUND ME SO YOU DON’T FALL OFF THE DANG BIKE!” he shouted before Killer could finish that thought.

Finally, Killer did as he said. Blue could feel his arms trembling slightly as he did so.

He felt bad for shouting.

He was hardly holding on tightly, but it was better than not holding on at all.

He was able to jump over to his universe without trouble.

The moment he started slowing down, Killer took his arms off of him.

He parked his bike by the front of his house and hopped off.

Killer looked distracted as he surveyed the area.

“Do you need help getting down?” Blue joked.

“what is this place?” he asked.

Blue couldn't stop a wince. Right, he forgot bringing someone over to his wrecked world usually prompted some questions. He gestured to his house. “It's my home.” He opened the door and walked in, hoping that Killer would drop the topic.

And he did, thankfully, because Hearts was right at the door.

Killer’s eye sockets widened as he craned his head up to look at his face.

He didn't know what he expected his roommate to look like. Honestly, he kinda expected Ink to be his roommate given how close they seemed to be.

Now that he's thought about it, Blue has talked about another friend he has from time to time. What was his name again? Hearts. That's probably who this was.

A Mettaton. He would’ve never guessed.

“I know, I’m beautiful, but quit staring. You can't handle all this,” Hearts said. He looked at Blue and spoke with a softer tone, “Darling, I thought I told you I don't appreciate other Sanses in the house.”

“I know, I’m sorry this wasn't the initial plan. But hey, he's not like any other Sans I’ve met. Can you make an exception for him too, please?” He looked up at him pleadingly.

Hearts rolled his eyes and side-eyed Killer. He actually took the time to notice how disheveled he looked. “Fine, but only because he looks more pathetic than you somehow. I’ll spare him some pity.”

Blue beamed a smile at him and ushered Killer in the house.

“I’ll be in my room,” Hearts said as he walked towards the stairs.

The layout of the house felt vaguely familiar to Killer, like he’s dreamt of it before—but it was clear this wasn't the same house they were in after being rescued from Fresh’s place. The couch and tv in the living room that doubled as the entry room, stairs leading up to the bedrooms, the kitchen that was underneath said bedrooms…Oh, it was the same layout as his old house. “so, you have two houses?” he asked.

“Technically the other house is more of Dream’s house and I just stay there sometimes but, yeah.”

“who the hell is dream?”

Right, he was out cold when the other two met him. “He's my friend. The guardian of positivity.”

Killer seemed to piece it together as quickly as Dusk and Sans did when they met him. “nightmare’s brother?”

“Yeah—did he tell you about him or something?”

“he would mention having a brother sometimes, but other than that, going off the name alone it's easy to guess. i take it that he's the complete opposite of him?”

“Well he goes around helping people, so yeah. Basically.”

Killer scoffed.

Blue looked towards the kitchen, thinking about what ingredients they had and what he could cook. Maybe he should try getting Killer to help? Did Killer know how to cook? “Do you wanna help me cook something for us?”

“oh, uh…” He looked uncertain.

Maybe he didn't know how to cook.

“You don't have to, you can just watch or sit on the couch or something,” he assured.

“i’ll watch.”

“Okay!”

They walked over to the kitchen. Blue opened the fridge. He caught sight of the chicken and spinach. Maybe he can make tinola.

He gathered the ingredients and grabbed a pot.

Killer was actually looking at him pretty intently. “where’d you learn how to cook anyway?”

He cut a green papaya in half and started removing the seeds. He thought about his question. “I dunno, I’ve kinda just improvised. Trial and error—” he paused, “I did have a cookbook, actually. So I had recipes to go off of at least.”

He put the papaya aside, getting some onion, ginger, and garlic. “I didn't really have a choice not to cook. I had a younger brother to feed, y’know? And it didn't feel right just giving him those pre-packaged foods.”

Killer mentally noted down that he said “had” instead of “have”.

“was no one else there for you two?”

He grabbed the oil, putting some in the pot and turning the stove on medium heat. “Nope. I uh, ran away from home. Or maybe I was kicked out, I forgot. and papyrus followed me, for some reason.”

He put the ingredients in and walked back over to the chicken to cut it into sections.

“...What about you? Do you remember anything from your childhood?”

It seemed like Killer didn't expect the topic to shift towards him. He scratched the back of his skull. “not really.”

Only thing that he remembered from his past was the feeling of guilt and the rush of LOVE that came with every kill. And being controlled like a puppet by the anomaly, but he preferred forgetting that.

Blue added the chicken to the pot and grabbed a spatula to stir it with. “Did anyone at Nightmare’s place know how to cook?”

That got Killer to snort, “god no. didn't stop them from trying, though.” He thought about all the times he'd hear the stove fan turn on and wonder if the smell of burnt food would soon follow. He smirked as a particular story surfaced to his mind. “there was this one time horror felt really cocky and tried making some tomato soup with actual tomatoes. except we didn't actually have any sort of way to blend the dang things which he didn't realize until after we got home. so then he just grabbed a knife and went ham—but the blade was so dull it just ended up popping the tomato like a balloon and it got all over us!”

He laughed as he recalled the look on Dust’s face, covered in tomato juice.

“yeah, so that was a bust. so we just had some pathetic grilled cheese sandwiches without tomato soup. it was very disappointing.”

“Sounds like a nice memory,” Blue said. There was a lid on the pot now.

Killer's smile faltered as the present hit him. “well. none of my memories from that place could be considered ‘nice’ could it? not when we were under the roof of that bastard.”

The way Blue looked at him when he said that made him feel vulnerable. “Do you…” the question died on his metaphorical tongue. No, they were supposed to just be hanging out. This wasn't a therapy session.

“miss it?” Killer finished the question anyway. “i swear you can read minds sometimes,” his words sounded sharp but he wasn't quite mad. He looked more defeated than anything, like Blue uncovered a dark secret. “yeah, i do.”

For a moment, the only sound was the stove fan.

His sockets were blank. “isn't that awful?”

He missed Dusk so deeply he didn't think he'd mind if Nightmare kidnapped them again just so he could be with him again. He felt awful about that. The rational part of him knew he didn't want to go back there again—and he definitely didn't want Dusk to.

It was awful. They had no autonomy. They were toys.

So why did he miss those times? Because Dusk and Sans had no choice but to give him the time of day? Because he wasn't alone and could pretend for a second that they were actually friends and cared about him?

Clingy. Needy. Why was he so needy?

“Hey,” Blue said softly. He was suddenly close to him, holding his hands in his and gently squeezing his metacarpals. “it's okay to miss it. That's normal.”

Normal? Bullshit.

“Yes, the situation was awful and no one should be subjected to that. But from what you've told me, things weren't all bad. You met Sans and Dusk. They're important to you, right?”

Despite himself, Killer nodded.

“Those happy parts, that's what you miss. That's normal. I know it's weird because of how many awful things happened there and how bad you were treated by him, but that's not the part you miss.”

Killer looked up at his sockets. He looked as genuine as he sounded. “well it sucks.” And of course his voice cracked when he talked because god hates him.

Blue gave him a look of concern. “Well if you stay in your room all the time, it's kinda hard to make happier memories to replace them.”

Killer sighed. He got him there.

“it also doesn't help that you've been avoiding the two.”

“alright i get it!” he yanked his hands away to cross them, “but it's easier said than done—you saw how dusk looked at me.”

“Yeah, but it isn't fair to avoid Sans too.”

“but i’m not actually that close to him. i don't think he wants to see me. i’m like a reminder of what he's gone through.”

Blue simply gave him a look.

Killer groaned. “shabby excuses that i don't know for sure hold up, i know!” He shooed him. “go check the food i don't want it to burn.”

“I put a timer, silly.”

The timer decided to go off just as he finished his sentence.

“Okay, I’ll check it.”

The food was finally finished and ready to serve. Killer forgot how hungry he was until now.

Blue had him set up the table while he brought the tinola and rice over and then called Hearts down.

“he’s a robot, does he need to eat?” Killer asked as he settled into his chair.

“Well he doesn't need to since he could just charge his batteries, but he likes eating,” he explained.

Killer grabbed a fairly small portion for himself. “lucky. if i didn't need to eat i wouldn't.”

Blue quirked a brow ridge. “You wouldn't eat at all? Not even your favorite foods?”

“i don't have any favorite foods,” he said boldly, but as he ate he clearly seemed to enjoy it—as he did the previous times Blue’s made him food.

Hearts finally made it to the table, eyeing Killer as he sat down next to Blue. Even sitting, he towered over the two skeletons.

“so…how’d you two meet anyway?”

Hearts opened his mouth but Blue spoke first, “At his universe’s Waterfall dump. He was dying actively so I took him to Dream’s place and worked on repairing him.”

Hearts frowned at Blue, who gave him a cheeky shrug and continued eating.

“at a dump, huh? would've never guessed. who threw you out?”

“Okay, that's enough about me! I know, I’m so very interesting, but I’m not interested in an interview right now.”

After that, Hearts focused on his food, he couldn't talk with a mouth full so it effectively shot down any further questions Killer had. Which was fair. He wasn't actually trying to get to know him. He was just trying to tick him off.

Why did he do that.

He didn't have an answer for that. 

He was going to switch to asking Blue about Hearts but any interest in that fizzled out.

Why did he purposefully piss people off so often?

After what felt like a second later, Blue and Hearts finished their food. Meanwhile, Killer was only a few bites in. It was getting cold.

Though his body felt hungry, his mind didn't seem to get the memo.

They were already throwing away the bones and cleaning up their dishes.

He tried eating another forkful only to end up chewing that piece of chicken longer than he needed to.

By the time Blue came back, he was still chewing the same piece of chicken.

He had a napkin in his hand. “You don't have to force yourself to finish it.” He offered the napkin to him.

It took his shitty mind a second to process what the napkin was for. He grabbed it and spat the chicken onto it. He wrapped it quickly to cover up the gross chunks. “sorry. it's good. i just can't.”

“Hey, it's okay. I can wrap the rest and put it in the fridge. It won't be wasted,” he assured.

“...thanks.”

He put the food away without any fuss. Patient as always. He wondered if that was why his eyelights glowed cyan all the time.

When it got late, Blue went with the bold decision of offering Killer to sleep over, because Killer couldn't be bothered to take another motorcycle ride to his hotel room right now he decided to take up that offer.

Since Killer didn't bring a pair of pajamas of his own, Blue gave him a pair to change into after he showered. It was just a generic pair of sweatpants and a graphic-tee of something he didn't recognize.

Blue’s pajamas were a matching set and space themed. It looked exactly how Killer would expect it to look.

They watched some random anime about school girls that Killer wasn't really paying attention to until one of them died, prompting Blue to pause it and explain everything that happened up until that point to Killer, which honestly Killer didn't catch most of either.

But Blue looked happy while he was explaining everything so he nodded like he understood.

Killer actually started paying more attention the next episode until his mind helpfully reminded him that the last time he had a sleepover it was with Horror and Dust.

It was harder to pay attention after that.

Before he knew it, Blue was clocking out for the day and went upstairs to get ready for bed, but Hearts stayed.

So now it was just him sitting on the couch and Hearts sitting on the chair that was clearly gotten for him specifically because god forbid he sit on this ratty couch.

Killer had a feeling something bad was gonna happen.

Hearts huffed, finally breaking the silence, “You're so tense. I’m not gonna kill you. Blue would never forgive me.”

Killer was still stiff as ever. He probably tensed up even more.

“That's a joke. I’m joking to ease up the atmosphere. I don't even want to kill you.”

No reaction.

“Honestly, I don't know how Blue deals with you. Do you even want to get better?”

That got Killer to glare at him.

“I know a lot of people similar to you. Washed up and worn-down. Hopeless,” he kept his voice low.

He wanted to tell him to shut up, but he couldn't find his voice right now, unfortunately.

“Frankly, I don't care what hardships you're going through, but I don't want Blue wasting his time either. So I’m gonna ask again, do you want to get better? Or are you wasting his time?”

He didn't know how to answer that first question, so he answered the second.

“i don’t want to waste his time,” he managed to say.

Hearts sighed, “I suppose intentions do matter.” He got up from his chair. “I’m heading to bed—”

Frantic footsteps were heard from upstairs as Blue ran out of his room and looked down at the two. “Killer, I totally forgot to ask if you were fine with sleeping on the couch!”

Killer looked up at him in shock. He thought he was already asleep. Hell, he looked like he just woke up specifically to ask this, given the sleep mask that was on his forehead. “uh, yeah i’m fine.”

“You sure? You don't wanna switch? I’m fine with sleeping on the couch instead.”

“nah.”

“Do you need any extra blankets or pillows?”

“i’m good. go to bed, man.”

Blue shuffled back to his room, seemingly taking his time just in case Killer would miraculously change his mind at any second.

He stood by his door for a few seconds.

“Darling. Go sleep,” Hearts said.

Finally he went into his room.

Hearts eyed Killer for a moment and then stretched and yawned performatively. “I’m heading to bed as well. Don't mess up the place.”

Killer didn't bother saying goodnight or goodbye since Hearts didn't either.

Hearts turned off the light before he walked up the stairs. His eyes emitted a dim light, which was the only thing Killer could see until he went into his room.

Ah. Pitch black darkness.

It was suffocating and empty at the same time. So of course it was comforting and terrifying at the same time.

He got comfortable on the couch, laying down on it and resting his head on one of the armrests.

He wondered what he was going to dream about tonight. His recent dreams have been either oddly nice or so uninteresting that he didn't remember it.

There's also been a recurring element in every single dream he's remembered since Nightmare tossed them out. A deer with an eye just like his would always show up at least once.

The piercing gaze of that cyan eye was kinda hard to forget.

It never did anything but look.

Dreams were usually nonsense and interpreting it would be a waste of time—but that deer was too consistent to be normal.

Was it Nightmare literally watching him? Was it his self conscious playing a prank on him in his sleep? Was he overthinking this completely?

Well it's the time before sleeping, of course he's gonna overthink. There was nothing to do but think when you're trying to sleep.

He shut his sockets, probably. It's hard to tell because there's no visible difference.

Maybe he should try talking to it? If he even realizes it's a dream and remembers to do that.

He just hoped Dusk won't be in his dream.

[cyberl33ch]

☆ The Sound of The Waves 2

abby masterlist

tw: angst, fluff for now, mention of infidelity, and profanity

summary: obviously inspired by Sextape by Deftones (i think this is turning out to be a slow burn)

pairing: ChildhoodFriend!Abby x Mishandled!Reader

can't promise i'll finish this one but here's a new abs series!

You were caught up in your thoughts while sitting on a bench in the laundromat listening to the very song Ellie was on that day at the beach. Someone walked in, I mean it wouldn’t be unusual the laundromat runs 24/7 but this one looks…familiar?

Being the unpredictable person you were, you quickly got up from your seat and practically dashed over to the person hoping it would be who you thought it was. “Abigail?” You said taking your earphones out and pocketing your phone.

The now dark brunette girl looked up, her eyes widening, realizing who was speaking to her. “Holy shit, Pumpkin?” Abigail quickly shoved her clothes back into the basket, picking you up and spinning you around in a tight embrace. 

“I haven’t seen you since I moved!” you say as she finally semi-releases you, resting her hands on your shoulders. “My mom is going to be so thrilled I ran into you. How have you been?”

Abigail Abby asked which started an hour-long catching-up session, both of you occasionally getting up to check on your clothes. And that’s when you finally stopped and looked out of the window realizing that the once busy street had faded into maybe a couple cars passing by.

As you guys finally finished catching up you made sure to get her number and ask her to send your regards to her beloved mother. After a long night of reconnecting an old friendship, you lugged your basket of clothes out of the laundromat opening your trunk.

However before you could lift it off the ground there Abby was putting it into the trunk for you, now get this the last time you’d seen Abby was when you were freshly out of high school and she was still an awkward Junior in high school. 

Puberty hits most people late but damn, Abby had got hit with a train, there was no longer an awkward brace face. She was now completely jacked and not to mention she was utterly towering over you. “Thanks, Abs, see you later alligator.” You said getting in your car.

Abby stood there watching your car pull away as it hit her that fate had brought you both back together, in middle school you both had made a promise to always find each other. Obviously, you both went your separate ways but maybe it was proving to be in the shape of a circle. 

The next day started for you like any other. A pile of clean clothes on the other side of your bed cast a shadow, which almost made you sleep through your alarm. Meaning you were not only exhausted from your shift as a barista but also almost late.

Your manager didn’t even lecture you this time, just gave you a look as you put your things in your locker. As you traded the counter with another coworker you were caught up in making a very complex mocha frappe when you heard the bell on the door ring and went to the counter. 

“Welcome to Lux Cafe, what would y-” You completely stopped in your tracks as you were met face to face with what you used to call you and Ellie’s untimely demise. What truly put the dirt over your last relationships casket, Dina.

☆ abby masterlist

☆ masterlist

☆ ask me anything

[imagineanime2022]

The Variable *Part 5*

Caspian Keyes X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4051

*Part 4*

Warnings: This take place in season 2 Reader is hurt, strangled, kidnapped in a sense, nose bleed, gif containing blood below the cut

It was late into the morning when you had been up for a little while longer than Caspian managing to get started on your morning training earlier than usual. Julius had managed to get someone to teach you for your first few weeks there, you assumed because they thought it would keep you away from Caspian for extended amounts of time. Instead Caspian had followed you to those sessions, watched and made sure that you were safe while working himself. There was no room that didn’t have a computer that he could access and when there was no computer in the room, he’d write down what he was thinking to work through later.

You were drawn back from your automatic jabs at the training bag when you heard the persistent knocking “What?” Caspian asked, only turning when he heard the door open. “Hey did you get some sleep, I know the jetlag-” “They don’t know, do they?” Maddie asked, you took a sip from the water bottle that you had placed on the side. “What?” Caspian asked. “The NSA, they don’t know who you really are.” Maddie said “that’s why Renee was threatening Pope.” You had to admit that she was smart for putting it together in the time that she’d had to think. “Not here.” Caspian said as he looked at you. “Go, I’ll be right behind you.” You nodded. “You're sure?” He asked. “Caspian, it's been a month, they aren’t going to get rid of me now.” You turned towards the bathroom. “I will be there in no time.” “Fine but be careful.” He ordered. “Yes sir.” You saluted him as he and Maddie walked out of the room. You got washed up and changed in record time but when you stepped out of the bathroom you were face with someone that you had no intention of entertaining. “He’s not here.” “I can see that.” Julius muttered as he looked around the room. “Where is he?” He asked. “Don’t know.” You answered, attempting to step around him. “I doubt that.” He looked at you “but he’s not here so why don’t you tell me the real reason that you're still here?” “I’ve never lied about why I’m here.” You sighed when you realised that he wasn’t going to let you get past him, you could force your way but with no other witnesses that would be a fast track out. You stepped back lying flat on the sofa “you, on the other hand, have only been lying.” “I’m here to crack integrity, I’ve never lied about that.” Julius shrugged. “No but you lied about the reason.” You leveled him with a look that told him you would not be budging, that seemed to give him all the indication that he needed about the direction of the conversation. “He won’t need you much longer.” Julius changed, you laughed as you brought your hands up behind your head. “Are you using psychological warfare on an 18 year old? That afraid of me?” You asked. “Afraid?” He asked. “You’ve all always hated the variable that you could not control, I could have been what ruined everything and now I’m the annoying stain you can’t get rid of.” You shrugged. “You know even that Maddie would be a better fit for him then you.” Julius said in a last ditch attempt to get under your skin but you just smiled. “Forgive me for not putting much stock in what you say, you’ve not been quite as correct as you hoped.” You closed your eyes as if relaxing into the sofa, the only indication that he was gone was the opening and closing of the door.

It was only 10 - 15 minutes before Caspian was back, tension seemed to leave his body the moment that he saw you laying on the sofa. “What are you doing? You were supposed to meet us.” Caspian walked over as you started to sit up. “Someone came for a chat, thought it would be better to keep them busy.” You answered. “Who?” He asked, sitting in the space left once you had crossed your legs. “Julius.” You answered, Caspian’s eyes widened as they traveled over you “I’m not hurt don’t worry.” “What did he say?” Caspian asked. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” You answered. “(Y/N).” He tried to get you to repeat the conversation but you refused, you didn’t want to talk about what Julius had said. It was nothing that you hadn’t heard before, you didn’t want to talk about for the hundredth time, especially when it didn’t ease anything, not really. “Really Cas it’s nothing, what about you and Maddie? You guys decide on anything?” you asked. “No.” Caspian answered. “She wants me to give the cure to Coupet.” “It’s not a bad idea, I guess you’d have to meet her.” You said. “There’s no point in me meeting her, I think you should meet her.” He reached out and grabbed both your hands squeezing them. “I couldn’t explain everything the way you could, she’s an astronaut, she needs you to explain.” You reminded him. “I’m not good at people, you’ve always been able to tell when someone is lying to us… To me.” He leaned forward resting his forehead against yours “what about together, meeting her together.” “I guess.” You reluctantly agreed. “If that’s the only way that it will work.” There was a knock at the door. “We’ll talk more about everything later.” Caspian said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, before he could grant whoever was at the door entrance, they barged they’re way in.

“We need to talk about Josephine.” Maddie said as she looked between the two of you not noticing or not caring that you seemed to be in the middle of something. Caspian sighed and grumbled as he let go of your hands after a brief reassuring squeeze. “What about her?” Caspian asked, pulling up her file on his computer, you walked over and looked over the small amount of information given. “She chose to upload, even though she knew it could be a death sentence.” Maddie explained. “And before that she volunteered for a one way mission to Mars.” “Sounds like a psycho.” Caspian argued as you turned to lean the back of your things against the desk. “She’s an explorer who took a leap of faith. She could be just who you're looking for.” Maddie argued. “We wouldn’t know without meeting her.” You said. “Everything you need is right here.” Maddie looked at you and you shook your head. “Not everything, intention is important. People do good things all the time, it doesn’t make them good people, the reason they did it does.” You answered as you looked at the picture “on paper she sounds perfect but that doesn’t mean the human behind it will be.” “Even if she is, I still need David.” Caspian cut in. “Why?” Maddie asked. “I hit a wall and he’s the only one who can help me break through. But that means that I need him fully himself.” Caspian explained leaning back in the chair as Maddie pulled herself up to sit on the desk. “When he first reached out to me, when he first came back… I thought it was a miracle and a chance to feel happy again. But now, what I see is, it screwed me up. Stalled me. We’re supposed to mourn loved ones when they’re gone. That’s normal, that’s healthy.” Maddie explained. “You really want him gone forever, even if I could bring him back without the flaw?” Caspian asked. “It’s not just about me.” Maddie walked away from the desk “If everyone lives forever, how does anyone grow up?”

“What?” Caspian asked as he turned to look at her, you shifted slightly numbness setting in from being in one position for too long, Caspian seemed to have caught the movement in the corner of his eye and gently guided you towards his lap, where he settled you. “Look, if your parents never got old or died, and neither did their parents or grandparents, great grandparents, if your family tree was alive and pressing down on you it's like… you never get your turn to be an adult and make your own choices.” Maddie explained, lingering on your position for only a second. “I never really had parents but all my choices were made for me anyway.” Caspian was being difficult, you could feel it in the tone that he was using the way that it rumbled through you as you leant against him. “That’s… You- You’re not-” “The difference between me and David is David had a choice. He chose an uploaded life. Now you're choosing for him not to live it.” Caspian argued. “Real people don’t have backups. If you can keep spinning up new versions, how is anyone really anyone and not just some copy some-” “Clone?” Caspian asked, you couldn’t see his face but you knew the disinterested look that adorned it, you’d seen it so many times when he was forced into something he didn’t want to do, a sign he was shutting down. You gently reached down to where his hand rested on the arm or the chair and started tracing small patterns. “You want to guilt me into calling you a freak but, Caspian, I know you think you’re awesome. You’ll do anything to prove that you're smarter and better than Stephen Holstrom. That’s how you became your own person. That’s why you and you alone need to cure the flaw. It’s this chosen-one fantasy that ignores reality.” Maddie argued, her eyes shifting to you for a second. “What reality?” Caspian asked, hands lifting in question before they dropped back to their previous position. “Other people, that’s how we got this far as a species. That’s what we’re alive to experience. And it’s also why we have to die. I’m not going to let you change life.” Maddie turned to leave as Caspian buried his face in your back, not intending to talk any further, you were about to stand when he stopped you, tightening his hold on you, mumbling two words that seemed to mean everything to him. “Other people.” “You figured something out?” You asked. “Maybe.” He answered, turning you both back towards the desk. “Caspian surely this would be easier if I mov-”

“No, it’s fine like this.” He mumbled as he opened up the things that he was looking for, you moved so that you were sitting sideways leaning against him, your legs hanging over his arm rest as he continued working. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep.

What woke you up was the lights flickering back on, you don’t know when they turned off but the thing that made you open your eyes was Julius’ voice, he and Caspian were talking about something, your eyes just fluttered open when the door burst open “what the hell just happened!?” The NSA representative asked. “System stress test, got a little out of hand.” Caspian answered, you could tell that he was lying. “A little? A little?” He asked, hand planted on his hips as you rolled your eyes, pushing yourself into a seated position, Caspian’s eyes catching yours as you settled. “Look kid, this data center is not your toy.” “Don’t call him ‘kid’.” Julius ordered. “He's the project lead, he’s going to get us all the way there. We do it his way.” The NSA agent looked between the three people in the room before walking back out. “I need to speak to Maddie.” Caspian said. “I’ll find her.” Julius left the room after that. “What happened?” You asked. “I did it.” He smiled as he walked over to you “I cracked it.” “You did?” You asked “how?” “What Maddie said before was half the answer.” He explained “about life being about other people, but you gave me the idea of how to put everything together.” “I did?” You asked. “How you fit into my life, the way we work together, that was what helped me with the last part.” He explained, for a second you felt like you had helped but your mind bounced back to Maddie giving him something tangible to work with. “You should go tell her that she was right.” You finally said. “We-” “No, you. This isn’t a conversation you need me hanging around for Caspian. I don’t add anything to them, I’ll be here when you get back.” You ushered him off but he frowned as you looked away from him. “What are you going to do?” He asked. “I’ll occupy myself.” You answered lightly, it was the only thing that you were sure of.

You were quiet in the back of the room as they set everything up ready to test what Caspian had made. “If this works, how do we get him out?” Maddie asked. “Hard Drive and a backpack. Jet’s fueled and ready to fly right?” Julius asked. “Right.” A man you had seen around answered. “I can do this myself if you want.” Caspian offered, they were standing so close, your eyes shifted to Julius who seemed to be watching them as well. “You said it’s bad when he wakes up, right?” Maddie asked. “That’s why I’m here.” “Execute.” Caspian ordered and Anssi did as he was told, everything happened quickly after that the test was a success and Julius put his back stabbing plan into action, you moved fast than anyone would have thought knocking the guy that was attempting to grab Caspian off balance, it was a poorly thought out plan but it bought you some time, you kicked his foot out from underneath him but it only took one hit from him to completely knock you off balance. He grabbed you around the throat, locking your head into a hold that he could easily break your neck in. “Caspian give us back the cure.” Julius spoke when everything stilled, Caspian looked at you. “Don’t Cas, you need that, you don’t need me.” You managed to say as you looked at Maddie on the floor. “I’m sorry that they did this to you again.” “Caspian, I will kill her if you don’t hand it over.” Julius looked between you but you saw the moment that he won, Caspian grit his teeth before throwing the hard drive at Julius’ feet. “Take her with us, leave him here, Stephen might want to see him.” “Stephen?” Caspian asked. “You were a close copy kid but you were just a placeholder until this brain could make it safe to upload his.” Julius explained. “Let’s go, we’re on the clock.” “Wait! Where are you taking her!?” Caspian asked. “You killed him!” Maddie yelled, seeming to finally come to. “He died two years ago.” Julius answered callously as you were dragged out of the room and the door closed, you could hear her screaming.

You were dragged to the elevator blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back, completely relying on them not to walk you into a hole. “Not going to ask what the plan is?” Julius asked. “I don’t need to know what the plan is if I’m dead after it finishes.” You answered. “So you do know how much trouble you're in.” He sounded impressed as you were led to what you assumed was an unneeded corner of the room. Being in the room with them as they uploaded Stephen made you want to vomit, the cult that they had organised themselves in only made you need to get out of the room even more, so you started working on untying the ties around your wrists.

Caspian knelt in front of Maddie “Maddie, I need your help to override the door lock, I need to get her back.” “I watched him die so many times.” Maddie said softly. “But I never thought it was my fault until now.” “You didn’t kill him, they did.” Caspian corrected her “They had this planned. We can’t let them win.” “They have.” Maddie said softly. “No, they made a mistake. They left us alive. They’ll correct that once they upload Stephen Holstrom, by then it’ll be too late to save (Y/N) even if we managed to get away.” Caspian explained. “Holstrom will correct it all.” “How do you know that?” Maddie asked, Caspian just smirked. “Right.” Maddie muttered. “A UI, even a flawless one, is vulnerable in a closed network. We have to get out of here. We have to get (Y/N) and we have to warn the government but we can’t get out without you.” Caspian explained “I’m also not so great in a closed network, but you, the way you turned that beater laptop into a Ferrari, you could use some of this crap to build us a new doorknob.” “I… I could try to rig up another access panel. Get a wireless signal to the one outside.” Maddie suggested, Caspian put out his hand helping her to stand and leading her towards the stuff she would use.

You couldn’t see what was happening but you could hear them talking about killing Caspian, Maddie and you. You should have been more scared for yourself but in some way you knew that they would use you to appease the other two. No matter how easy it would be to kill you here and move on. That was why you weren’t surprised when someone pulled you to your feet pressing the gun to your back and forcing you to walk. “Don’t worry this will all be over soon.” Julius. Good, you could overpower him, you waited until the elevator started before finally pulling your hands free of the restraints, you elbowed him in the stomach, you heard the gun clatter to the floor as you pulled the blind fold off. “You shouldn’t have underestimated me.” You said as you looked at him doubled over, you picked up the gun. “Wait.” He lifted his hands. “I shouldn’t, you weren’t going to.” You lifted the gun but you didn’t point it at him instead you put on the safety and took out the magazine, as the door opened you threw it as far as you could in the direction that you were about to run and threw the gun in the other, the motion was so quick that Julius didn’t have time to stop you instead he dove forward knocking you to the floor his shoulder smashing into your nose before he leaned back hands wrapping around your throat, adrenaline coursing through you as you aimed your elbow at his temple striking hard and knocking him off balance. You staggered to your feet wiping at your face as you started running. You tried to make sense of the halls but everything looked the same, white walls and potted plants, you couldn’t hear Julius behind you but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t there, your chest screamed at you to stop while your head reminded you that you were in danger. Your eyes drew down to the touch pad on the doors, arrows displayed on them pointing you in a direction. “Are you helping me?” A tick before flipping back to the arrows, you had no choice you weren’t going to find your way out on your own, so you started running again, this time eyes on the door pad making sure that you were travelling in the right direction, you didn’t even notice the body you were about to run into until you bounced off of them, immediately attempting to swing your fist.

“Woah woah, it’s me, it’s me. Hey!” The person grabbed your hand stopping the punch from landing but still grunted at the impact, you looked up finally registering the familiarity of the voice but his eyes widened as they landed on your bloody nose. “What did they do?” “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have time, they want to kill us… All of us, we have to go.” You said through rushed breaths. “I know, I know.” He pulled you close, steadying you “we just have to take back the cure and then we get out of here.” “The- How?” You asked. “Come on this way.” He linked your hands as you continued down to the server room where he hooked up a hard drive. “Here.” Maddie held out a coat and gloves to you “we were coming to get you.” “T-thanks.” You answered putting it on with a wince, an ache in your shoulder setting in you assumed from the weight of a grown man falling on you. Maddie put the glasses on as she watched for anyone who could have been a threat. “That’s my code asshole.” Caspian muttered as you assumed he got his code back. “Hurry up. Pope’s coming down here. He’s got a gun.” Maddie said as you finished zipping your coat up. “Almost there.” Caspian answered. “Wait a go Peter!” Maddie cheered. “Who?” Caspian asked. “Waxman, who else would be helping us?” Maddie asked. “They shipped him out to DC 2 days ago.” Caspian said as he unplugged the hard drive, putting it in his coat pocket and taking your hand again. “I’m done. Let’s go.” You all ran down the stairs to the parking garage, to find that there was no cars, that is until one pulled up in front of you Caspian taking a step forward to shield you both, the window rolled down, and Cary leaned out from behind the man driving the car. “Get in, we have a plane to catch.” He ordered, the drive was silent but as he said there was a plane waiting for you all, the driver climbed out walking towards the plane, you assumed he was the pilot too, Maddie moved behind him, you after her and then finally Caspian who stopped to have a brief conversation with Cary. “I’m not going.” Cary said. “You don’t need me, you never have, I know Stephen and you… You're better than him. Never forget it.” He held out the gun. “We won’t need it.” Maddie said almost as if she saw you tense at the offer of the weapon. “How would you like 3 million dollars for flying us to DC.” “You got 3 million in that backpack?” The pilot asked. “Bitcoin, use this Opendime USB. Download from a blockstream satellite. When the nets back up, just plug it in and spend away.” Maddie instructed. “Or we could just take a boat.” The pilot took the USB and started the plane. “Be careful.” Caspian finally said as he turned away and walked over to where you had settled in almost curled in on yourself.

“Hey.” He said softly as he crouched in front of you “Is it just your nose?” “I think I hurt my shoulder when he tackled me and my…” Your hand touched your throat but you couldn’t say it out loud but Caspian’s eyes widened, you assumed this was the first time that he noticed the red skin starting to bruise. “Let me clean your face.” He said softly as you nodded, it was easy to find everything that he needed, placing the hard drive on the table in front of the seat as he started cleaning your face gently apologising when you flinched. “Let me see that.” Maddie pointed to the hard drive. “What?” Caspian asked not really looking at her as he continued with his task. “The drive with the cure on it. Let me see.” She ordered. “Take it.” He said turning your face slightly to get to the other side without moving you too much. Maddie plugged the hard drive into her laptop. “What are you doing?” Caspian asked, you heard the sounds of messages and a gasp from Maddie. “Did you hit your head?” “No. Just my shoulder.” You answered, your eyes drooping as you answered. “Get some sleep.” He said softly. “What about-?” “Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you everything once you’ve gotten some rest, we’re safe for a little while, I promise I will be here when you wake up.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and it seemed that was all the permission that you brain needed because you couldn’t have stopped your eyes closing if you wanted to.

*Part 6*

Request Here!!

[fictional-magic]

by the glue,

coquette!singer!reader x actor!sirius black

summary: after a long parting, he's finally stuck to you after a year.

you stand on the stage, adrenaline rushing, but not too much because it's habitual to you now. you're still happy about how many people stand and singalong to your feelings poured out as songs. you decided to wear a long white skirt with mid-ruffles, and a bubblegum pink top which had the name of your latest album (the one you will be singing in a few minutes) with bold dark pink letters. you have satin pink ribbons braided in your hair, tied like small bows near the ends of your hair.

your mic goes on and you start talking first, the princess-y smile comes naturally with your playful conversations with the fans. the first track is a sweet one, with light flirting and about being attached to someone like glue in love. you sit on the edge of the stage for this one, dangling your legs and occasionally pointing your mic at the fans who probably know the lyrics better than you.

don't forget to kiss me, or else you'll have to miss me i guess i'm stuck forever by the glue, aren't you?'

words flow out like sweetness from you, pouring until you're painted in smiles and rainbows. as you sing, you remember him. the one you wrote this song about. you both were practically inseparable in uni, and the high school sweethearts too. it feels wrong to reminisce like you're 50 when it's really only been two years since college, but it feels like a really long time since then. it's not a good feeling to have to be mature and all grown up suddenly. and he helped you through that transition.

you remember and miss a very very handsome, beautiful, cute, and every-word-under-that-umbrella man. you haven't met him since a year, and it's neither of your fault. he's busy, and you're busy. you text almost 3 times a week, and call each other on the weekends, but seeing his face and being able to touch and feel him was a long-lost dream of yours.

if he were here, maybe your smile would be more realistic and happier, maybe your days would be brighter, and nights more sleep-providing. but he's not, so you toss and turn in your bed, and panic the next morning about what to wear.

he's almost never done with his shootings, and your recording sessions seem endless to the both of you. when he's doing interviews, you're at home. when you're doing concerts, he's at home. it's exhausting and almost impossible to find timings where the both of you are unoccupied.

no, silly, focus on singing!

you come back to the matearilistic worls and start genuinely thinking about the soft notes you hit while you're humming. your earpiece tickles your ear a bit just then, while you're walking on the stage like frolicking through a huge field with daisies and peonies around. your manager's voice pops in through the small device, "black's here. he's standing backstage!" and even your manager sounds excited to know you won't be so sad anymore. the song ends with a last hum, and with an apologetic voice, you murmur into the mic,

"i'm so sorry everyone, i have to leave for just a moment, i'll be back in a few minutes, i promise!" and you do manage to hear a few groans and chants of your name while you run backstage after keeping the mic on a random stand.

you shout, "sirius? are you here?" you're still quite unsure if you're manager's saying the truth. she has been known to play a few mean pranks every now and then. "sirius?" you say again, hope laced around your voice.

"hi!" he whispers as he warps his arms around you from behind in the dark, dimly lit backstage. you can still figure out from his clothes' feel, that he's wearing something leather.

"sirius!" your voice hold a giddyness, and you smile bright enough to light up the entire place for sirius. you hug him tightly as tears run down your face, happy or sad you aren't sure.

"missed you so much siri, you have no idea."

"hey, you should really go back onstage." he says, with a light kiss on your forehead.

"we'll catch up after a while yeah? fuck, wanted to see you so bad, doll." he kisses you on the lips now, and you wrap your hands around his neck instinctively as he reaches for your waist. it feels oh so wonderful to explore the lips and mouth of the man you've been thinking about for a whole year. and, just like that, you're stuck together lke glue again, rest of the world be damned.

[kathlare]

glimpse of her

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando encounters Stella and her children in Baku, where he is reminded of his past with Amelie. As the kids play and share memories of Amelie, Lando is confronted by the striking resemblance between Carlota and her aunt.

Wordcount: 1.6 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

June 9th, 2022 - Baku, Azerbaijan

Lando adjusted his cap, his eyes scanning the Baku track as he made his way around with the team. The heat of the sun bounced off the concrete, the hustle and bustle of the paddock a constant hum in the background. He was focused, his mind running through the upcoming sessions, but something caught his attention as he walked past the barriers.

There, near the pit entrance, he saw the familiar sight of Checo’s kids playing with a ball, rolling it between themselves and laughing. Chequito and Carlota were chasing it down, their faces lit with the carefree joy only kids that age seemed to have. Lando stopped for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. The kids had been around a lot during his past visits, always in the background when he and Amelie had been close, but it had been a while since he’d seen them.

Carlota, the younger of the two, was clapping her hands and giggling, her blonde hair bouncing with every movement. Lando hesitated for a moment, wondering if she’d even recognize him.

He pushed those thoughts aside and approached, making his way toward the small group. He noticed Stella standing by, holding Emilio in her arms. The baby was sleeping peacefully, nestled against her chest, his small head resting against her shoulder.

Lando walked up to her, offering a polite smile. —Hey, Stella,— he greeted her, the words coming out more naturally than he expected, even though the last time they spoke had been under... tense circumstances.

Stella glanced up, offering him a small, controlled smile. She hadn’t exactly been warm toward him in the past after everything had gone down with Amelie, but these days, she was more neutral. Still, Lando could tell the coldness lingered beneath the surface, even if she was making an effort to be civil. He wasn't sure if it was for him or for the sake of their shared history.

—Lando,— Stella replied. —I didn’t expect to run into you here.—

Lando scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. —Yeah, just doing my track walk. Didn’t realize you were bringing the kids along today.—

Stella’s eyes softened as she looked down at her children. —They wanted to see the cars up close. And Checo’s busy with the team, so it’s easier for me to bring them out here.— She shifted Emilio slightly, her gaze briefly lingering on the baby’s peaceful face. —This one’s still pretty new to all of this.—

Lando smiled. —He’s adorable,— he said, his voice gentle. He hadn’t gotten the chance to meet Emilio yet, and seeing him now, so small and content in Stella’s arms, hit him with an unexpected sense of nostalgia.

Stella nodded, looking down at Emilio with pride. —He is. He’s been good so far, thankfully. Just... a little bundle of joy.—

Lando smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on the baby. It was hard not to feel a sense of longing when he saw how happy Emilio seemed in Stella’s arms. He had always admired how much Stella had evolved as a mother, the warmth that radiated from her when she spoke about her kids. It made him wonder about his own relationship with his family, his parents and siblings, who had always been supportive, but never quite as present as Checo’s.

He shifted his focus back to the other two children. Chequito and Carlota had found a new game, throwing the ball to each other with uncoordinated excitement. Carlota’s giggles filled the air, and Chequito’s efforts to keep the ball in play were met with a mix of frustration and amusement. The sight brought a soft chuckle from Lando.

—They're growing up fast, huh?— Lando commented, watching as Carlota stumbled over her own feet but managed to grab the ball.

Stella followed his gaze, her eyes softening. —Yeah, they are. Carlota’s the wild one, always getting into trouble. But Chequito... he’s such a little gentleman. They’re a handful, but they’re also a joy.— She looked down at Emilio again, and for a moment, her expression softened even more. —He’s a little more relaxed than these two ever were.—

Lando nodded in understanding. —He seems so peaceful. I bet it’s nice to have a quieter one for now. But... uh... Carlota, yeah, she’s definitely the mini version of someone.—

Stella’s brows raised slightly as she watched her daughter tumble and quickly recover. —Oh, don’t get me started, Lando. Every day she gets older, she’s literally a little Amelie in the making. The way she speaks, the attitude, everything. It’s... uncanny. Honestly, I keep thinking Amelie’s haunting me through her.—

Lando’s chest tightened at the mention of Amelie. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the way Stella spoke about Carlota, about how she resembled Amelie, made his stomach flip. He had spent so much time thinking about the past with Amelie that he didn’t realize how much he’d subconsciously missed her family. Carlota’s loud, boisterous laughter—so familiar in the way it echoed off the walls—reminded him of better times, of when things were simple.

—Yeah... I can see it. She’s got that... spark, you know? Like Amelie had, too. I guess it runs in the family.—

The sudden voice of Chequito interrupted their conversation, his small hands tugging at Stella’s pant leg.

—Mum, I’m hungry!— he called out, his face scrunched in a dramatic pout.

Carlota immediately chimed in, her voice equally demanding. —Me too! Snacks, Mum! Snacks!—

Stella let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head in exasperation as she glanced down at both of them. —Alright, alright, I get it. You’re both hungry. But first, say hello to Lando.—

The two children looked up at Lando, their faces blank for a second, before they both simultaneously muttered a quiet and unconvincing, —Hi, Lando.—

Lando’s smile faltered slightly, but he hid it quickly, his heart sinking at the realization. It had been months since he’d last seen them, and the distance between them felt wider than ever.

Lando gave a small wave in response, not quite knowing what else to say. Stella smiled gently at her children. —Good, now we can go get snacks. We’ll head to the paddock club. Lando, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.—

Lando hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend more time with Stella, but at the same time, he liked the idea of being around the kids. And if there was anyone who could make him forget about the weight of his own thoughts, it was Carlota and Chequito with their boundless energy. Plus, he’d always had a soft spot for Amelie’s family. Despite everything, they were still family to him in a way.

—Sure, I’ll join you,— he agreed, giving a casual nod. —It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all.—

Stella smiled warmly at him, a genuine friendliness in her voice. —It’s good to see you, Lando. I think the kids will be happy to have you there.—

The walk to the paddock was filled with the usual chatter of kids excited about snacks and cars. Lando fell into step beside Stella as they made their way toward the club, the sound of Chequito and Carlota’s voices occasionally ringing out behind them.

—So, how’s life been treating you?— Stella asked after a moment of silence, her tone polite but not overly familiar.

Lando shrugged, his gaze flickering toward the kids. —It’s been alright, you know. A lot of races, a lot of work, but... can’t complain. How about you? How’s everything going with Checo and the kids?—

Stella smiled, a fond look crossing her face as she glanced at her children. —It’s been crazy, but in a good way. Checo’s always busy with the team, but he’s a great father. The kids are adjusting to the new one; Emilio. They’re both really good with him, actually. A little too good sometimes, but that’s just sibling love.—

They reached the paddock club, where they found a quiet table near the window, giving the kids the view they craved. Carlota immediately climbed up into one of the chairs, looking around for snacks, while Chequito hovered near his mother, clearly having something important to say.

As soon as their food arrived, Lando barely had a chance to settle in before Chequito began the one topic Lando had been hoping to avoid: Amelie.

—Titina would’ve liked these snacks,— Chequito remarked, his voice full of certainty. —She always said the cheese ones were her favorite!—

Carlota quickly chimed in, her eyes bright as she remembered more. —Titina! She is so funny. She made us laugh all the time!— She threw a look at Lando, her face scrunched in concentration as she chewed her snack.

Lando’s stomach tightened at the mention of Amelie. The word Titina—the nickname the kids used for her—stung like a ghost from the past. He hadn’t expected them to bring her up, let alone so easily. It was almost like she was still here with them, lingering in every conversation, every moment.

Chequito’s voice broke through Lando’s thoughts. —Titina would have made us laugh even more with these! She always have the best jokes. She tell us stories, remember, Carlota? About the cats and the chickens!—

Carlota nodded vigorously, her mouth full of snack. —Titina always have the funniest stories. I miss her.—

Lando’s heart clenched. It was clear they missed her. And though the kids were still so young, they remembered her in such vivid ways, as if she had only just left. He couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of regret, the weight of all those unanswered questions and the silence between him and Amelie.

Stella, noticing the shift in Lando’s expression, shot him an apologetic look. —Sorry about that, Lando. I know it’s not the easiest subject for you...— She shifted in her seat, clearly aware of the discomfort but unsure of how to ease it. —The kids love Amelie. She is really good with them, especially with Carlota. They miss her a lot.

Lando gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, nodding as he tried to push down the discomfort gnawing at him. —It’s fine, Stella,— he replied, though the weight of the words didn't make it any easier. —I’m sure they miss her a lot.—

Carlota, in her typical energetic fashion, leaned forward in her chair. —Titina always made us laugh! She told us about the time she had to teach a chicken how to swim!— She giggled as she mimicked the action, flapping her arms around for emphasis.

Lando couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. The memories of Amelie telling stories, making everyone laugh with her wild imagination, came rushing back. His heart squeezed at the thought, even though he did his best to hide it behind a smile.

Chequito, still serious in his observations, added, —Titina made everything funny. She is always happy. I think she would’ve liked this race a lot.—

Stella, noticing Lando’s deepening quiet, gently placed a hand on Carlota’s arm. —Alright, sweetie, let’s eat some more and save the stories for later, okay?—

Carlota nodded, still chewing happily, and Lando finally exhaled in relief. The conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t quite anticipated, and now he was left with the delicate task of navigating his feelings.

Before Lando could respond, Chequito suddenly stood up, his little legs wobbling as he tugged at Stella’s sleeve. —Mum, I need to go to the toilet!— he said urgently.

Stella sighed and stood, carefully adjusting Emilio in her arms. —Alright, Chequito. Hold on, I’ll take you. And I need to change Emilio’s diaper anyway. Lando, do you mind staying with Carlota for a bit?—

Lando blinked, slightly taken aback by the request. —Uh, yeah, sure,— he replied, glancing at Carlota, who seemed oblivious to the fact that her mother was leaving.

As Stella gathered the baby and guided Chequito away, Lando turned to Carlota. The little girl was already distracted by something on the table, her eyes wide with curiosity as she played with a piece of fruit.

For a moment, Lando just stared at her, trying not to think too much. But it was impossible.

Holy shit, she really was a mini-Amelie.

The resemblance was uncanny. From the way she tilted her head in concentration to the way she spoke with that playful, mischievous look in her eyes—everything about Carlota screamed Amelie. It was like looking at a younger version of her, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat as memories of better days flashed through his mind. The way Amelie used to laugh, her playful energy, her sharp wit—it was all there, in Carlota. The resemblance was so strong it made his head spin, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d ever get away from the memories of her, or if they would just haunt him forever.

He shifted in his seat, trying to distract himself, but his eyes kept drifting back to Carlota. Her bright green eyes—those damn green eyes—stared up at him with such intensity. It was as if she was silently daring him to acknowledge the truth, to admit that she was so much like her aunt.

Lando blinked a few times, trying to push the thoughts away. It wasn't fair to put all of this on a kid who didn't even understand the weight of it all. But damn, it was hard not to see Amelie in every little thing Carlota did.

—Are you okay, Lando?— Carlota asked, breaking his thoughts as she looked up at him, her voice small and curious.

Lando cleared his throat, forcing a smile. —Yeah, just... thinking. About how much you remind me of your aunt.—

Carlota's face lit up with a proud grin. —Really? Mum says I look like her a lot!—

—Yeah, you do,— Lando said softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He couldn't help it. Carlota was practically Amelie’s mini-me.

She giggled, clearly enjoying the compliment, and Lando found himself smiling despite the weight in his chest. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, but seeing Carlota, so full of life, with those same eyes, those same mannerisms—it just made everything about Amelie feel... real again. Like she was still a part of his life in some strange way.

They continued to chat for a while, the conversation light, with Lando doing his best to entertain Carlota as she asked him questions about racing, cars, and what it was like to go fast. It was hard to keep up the act, though, with his thoughts constantly circling back to Amelie.

Eventually, Stella returned, juggling Chequito and Emilio, who was now awake and making tiny, cooing sounds. She looked at Lando, a slight apology in her eyes.

—Sorry about that,— Stella said quietly as she settled back into her seat.

Lando cleared his throat, trying to shake off the unexpected wave of emotion that had flooded him when Carlota's face lit up with that same infectious energy Amelie had once had. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on anything other than the way her eyes seemed to glimmer with the same mischievous spark he’d seen in Amelie a thousand times.

Carlota looked up at him, tilting her head slightly. —Lando, do you know how to make a chicken swim?— she asked, her expression so earnest it made Lando blink.

His lips parted in surprise, then he let out a breathy laugh, not sure whether he should be amused or slightly unnerved by how familiar she felt to him. It was like staring at a piece of the past, but twisted into something new.

—Uh, no, I don't know how to make a chicken swim,— he answered, his voice light, his words stumbling over the unexpected nostalgia that had hit him. —But I bet Amelie would have had a pretty wild explanation for it.—

Carlota grinned, a little too enthusiastically. —She did! She said she had to teach the chicken, and it was funny because the chicken didn’t like water! I think... it was like this big adventure!— She giggled, her hands mimicking a chicken flapping its wings.

Lando chuckled despite himself, the sound strange in his chest as his thoughts kept wandering back to Amelie. It felt surreal, sitting here with her niece, having a conversation that felt just like it could’ve been with Amelie herself. The way Carlota’s voice, full of excitement, bounced with the same tone Amelie had used in so many of their old conversations. It was almost like Amelie was there, just out of sight.

His gaze lingered on Carlota, unsure of how to navigate this strange, bittersweet moment. He didn’t want to feel this way. He didn’t want to let Carlota's innocence hit him so hard. She wasn’t Amelie. She was just a kid, full of life and curiosity, and yet, every movement, every word felt like a reflection of the woman he once knew.

Chequito’s voice broke through Lando's thoughts as he reentered the room, holding Stella's hand while his little brother, Emilio, snuggled against her chest.

—Carlota, we have to go soon!— Chequito said with urgency.

Stella smiled, walking over to the table with her kids. She handed Carlota a snack and gave Lando a small, appreciative look. —Thanks for keeping her entertained. I think we’ll head out now.—

Lando gave a slight nod, still trying to process the strange feeling that had settled in his chest. As he watched Stella gather the kids, he noticed Carlota stealing a glance at him, her curious green eyes wide as she chewed her snack.

For a second, Lando froze. The green eyes, the spark, the way she looked at him like she could see right through him—it was hauntingly familiar. Amelie’s eyes. Amelie’s gaze.

Stella picked up on his discomfort and quickly changed the subject. —We should get going, though. It’s a long day ahead.—

Lando nodded, finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. —Yeah, it was good catching up with you all. I’ll see you around.—

Stella smiled warmly, offering a soft goodbye. —Take care, Lando. The kids really enjoyed your company.—

As they walked away, Lando stayed rooted to the spot, his mind swirling in confusion. Carlota had left such a lasting impression on him. It felt like she had put a mirror up to his own soul, showing him a side of himself he hadn’t expected to confront today.

Carlota really was a mini Amelie.

And as much as he tried to push the thought away, it lingered in his mind, haunting him with every passing second.

Shit.

[whimsicalpolitical]

trouble sleeping // Ross Macdonald x Reader

a/n: send some requests!! needed some Ross comfort again :)

summary: you can’t seem to find rest at night and the only thing that’s helping is your boyfriend Ross

cw: insomnia, pure fluff, mention of pills

────────────────────────

It’s late. 4 in the morning and you just can’t sleep and the problem is that Ross is not in your shared apartment. He’s at the studio with the guys, and he made sure you’re gonna be fine because your insomniac episodes aren’t unknown for him. “Call anytime and I’ll come home.”

It was genuine of Ross but you don’t ever want to disturb him when he’s working.

Even when if it’s the fourth time this week, the thought of calling Ross is in the back of your mind when it should be at the front. In the past Ross has helped you multiple times when you either couldn’t fall asleep or sleep through the night with breathing exercises, muscle relaxation and meditation.

You fell asleep at 2 and now two hours later you’re awake again, unable to fall asleep and missing the warmth of your boyfriend.

Drinking milk, opening the windows for fresh air, hearing soothing music and deep breathing didn’t work. You’re getting frustrated, that’s why you make your way to the couch to turn on the TV.

If nothing works, criminal minds would always be a last resort. The familiar faces of the BAU team and the engrossing plots sometimes managed to distract your mind just enough to let sleep sneak in. You pull a blanket over yourself and settle into the couch, flipping through the series until you find an episode you re-watch quite often.

The familiar opening credits roll, and you try to lose yourself in the unfolding drama. The case is intense, as always, and for a while, you almost forget your frustration. But as the minutes tick by, the sense of loneliness creeps back in. You miss Ross's presence, his steady breathing beside you, the warmth of his body. You glance at your phone on the coffee table, the urge to call him growing stronger.

You take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising anxiety. Ross had insisted that you call him anytime, but the last thing you want is to interrupt his work. You know how important the studio sessions are, especially with the deadline for their next album approaching. But then again, Ross has always been there for you, and he would want to know if you were struggling, in particular when it’s about your insomnia.

You pick up your phone and stare at the screen. 4:15 AM. With a sigh, you unlock it and scroll to Ross's contact. Your finger hovers over the call button, but you hesitate. What if he's in the middle of recording a crucial track? You close your eyes and take another deep breath, trying to decide.

A few seconds later you press the call button.

It rings only once before he answers, his voice immediately concerned. "Hey darling, everything alright?”

“Not really,” your voice trembling slightly, “I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t urgent, sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nonsense,” he’s worried, you hear it in his voice, “M’ sorry you’re struggling, what have you tried?”

“Fucking everything,” you sigh, “nothings working.” You want him to come home, be with you, try everything you tried because you’re sure everything he does will have an impact.

"Hang on a second," he says, his voice a mix of surprise and something else you can't quite place.

Before you can respond, there's a knock at the door. Confused, you get up and walk over, phone still in hand. You open the door to find Ross standing there, his phone pressed to his ear and a grin on his face.

“Was already on my way when you called,” he lowers his phone and slips it into his pocket.

“Ross,” you exclaim, a relief washing over you like a tidal wave.

"I had a feeling," he says, stepping inside and wrapping you in a tight embrace. "So I wrapped up early and decided to come home."

You bury your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. "Thank you for coming."

“Always," he murmurs into your hair. "Let's get you settled. We'll try some exercises together, okay?"

You nod, pulling back just enough to look up at him. His eyes are filled with love and concern, and you feel a sense of peace starting to settle over you. “One second.” You demand.

You stand on your tiptoes to brush your lips over his, feeling his beard tickle your chin and the area under your nose. You sigh into the kiss and Ross smiles at your steadiness.

He laughs at the TV when you enter the living room. “Again?” He points at the episode on the screen, the familiarity of the scenes hitting him. “Doesn’t it get dull?”

Ross hangs his jacket over a chair while you turn the TV off. “Never.” You answer his previous question.

You rub your eyes, trying to push the exhaustion away from you, but it’s a lost fight. Even when you would try to sleep because you’re dead tired, you wouldn’t sleep more than a few hours.

After Ross places his shoes at the door, he makes his way to the kitchen. You hear glasses klink and the tab getting turned on.

“How was practice?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from your restlessness.

“Quite good actually,” you hear from the kitchen, “Matty’s just indecisive all the bloody time.”

You giggle because your remember a lot of conversations between George and you where George has said the exact same.

“Some day he’s just gonna go crazy,” Ross laughs and returns from the kitchen with a glass of water and a pack of some pills.

“I brought triazolam, take one and then we’ll settle into bed alright?” You nod and smile weakly. Ross gives you one small nod and leans in to kiss the side of your head.

Ross keeps stroking your hair when you take the medicine and chug the water. “Thanks,” you mumble when you’re done, putting both the glass and the pack of pills on the table in front of you.

You stand up, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into you. Ross laughs softly, his arms awkwardly wrapping around your back. You pay no mind to his struggle and press your cheek to his, your fingers slipping into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Missed you,” you slurred, your words getting muffled by his shoulder.

“Missed you too, love.” Your eyes flutter shut as he continues his gentle ministrations, rubbing your back. He turns, nose bumping against yours, and he kisses you softly.

Ross sighs into your mouth. He cups your cheek, the line of your jaw familiar beneath his fingers. He tastes like powerade, you know he drank in the studio. The tension leaks out of your shoulders as he scratches his nails against your scalp, once, twice.

He trails a series of gentle kisses across your skin; your jaw, your cheeks, the edge of your lips. You remain near, so near that your nose brushes against his again.

“Bed?” He whispers against the corners of your mouth.

You hum softly and with reluctance you untangle yourself from him. Tossing back the blanket, you stand up. He reaches for your hand, and you smile sleepily at the comforting warmth of his fingers intertwined with yours.

Wrapping your other hand around his bicep, you follow him mindlessly to your room.

Ross is aware of your sleeping outfit but he knows that sometimes it’s better to change again when you can’t sleep. “D’you want to change?”

You do. You so badly want to but you’re over the top with your exhaustion. You just want to lie down. You stare at Ross, before sitting down on the edge of the bed, your legs giving out slowly.

Ross’ mouth curves into a smile. He turns his back and walks to your closet to pull out a shirt from him and a pair of sweatpants from you.

He walks towards you again, “arms up love.” You do as he says and you feel the cold air hit your chest but the feeling is replaced again when he pulls the shirt over your head. “There you go.”

He kneels in front of you to pull your shorts down. “Long sweatpants okay?” He asks and you nod, steadying yourself with your hand on his shoulder.

Ross slides the sweatpants up your legs gently, making sure you’re comfortable before standing up. “All set,” he says softly, making sure he changes just as fast.

He makes sure to set the bedroom how you like it. One open window, no light but the light on his side of the bed still on, for your exercises later. Every door closed.

Everything’s set so you settle under the covers and Ross climbs in beside you. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you murmur, your voice trailing off as the drowsiness of the pill sets in. “Still don’t think I can sleep though.” The room is dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting warm shadows on the walls.

“That’s alright, we’ll make it work.” Ross gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and reassuring. “Let’s try a breathing exercise, okay? It might help you relax more,” he suggests softly.

You nod, willing to try anything at this point. Ross shifts closer, his presence a comforting anchor. “Alright, love. Close your eyes and listen to my voice.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the steady cadence of his words. “Breathe in slowly through your nose,” he instructs, his voice calm and soothing. “Count to four as you do. One... two... three... four.”

You follow his lead, drawing in a deep breath and feeling your chest rise with the intake of air. “Now hold it for four counts,” Ross continues, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “One... two... three... four.”

You hold the breath, feeling the tension in your muscles begin to ease. “Now, exhale slowly through your mouth,” Ross says, his tone encouraging. “Count to six. One... two... three... four... five... six.”

You feel your chest relaxing after round 1 and now Ross puts a hand on your chest, to help you relax even more.

You release the breath, feeling the air leave your lungs in a slow, controlled stream. The tightness in your chest begins to loosen. “That’s it,” Ross murmurs, his fingers on his other hand tracing gentle circles on your shoulder. “Let’s do it again. In for four...”

You repeat the process, inhaling deeply and holding the breath before exhaling slowly. With each cycle, you feel the stress and worry melting away, replaced by a growing sense of calm.

Ross continues to guide you through the breathing exercise, his voice a steady presence in the dimly lit room. “You’re doing great,” he whispers after several rounds. “Just keep breathing, nice and slow.”

As you focus on your breath, the soothing rhythm begins to lull you into a deeper state of relaxation. The drowsiness from the pill, combined with Ross’s calming influence, starts to pull you towards sleep.

“Feeling better?” Ross asks softly, his hand still resting reassuringly on your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you murmur, the word barely audible, “Sorry you have to keep up with this often.”

“None of that love.” Ross replies, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love doing this f’ it means you can find rest.

As you both settle down, Ross moves behind you, propping himself up on one elbow. He begins to massage your scalp, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation is soothing, his touch gentle yet firm, aimed at releasing the tension that lingers.

“Just relax, love,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Let go of everything.”

He uses his thumbs to apply a deep and firm pressure toward your skull, using circular movements to massage this area for some time.

Ross continues the massage, taking his time, ensuring that each touch is comforting. “How’s that feel?” he asks softly.

“Wonderful,” you reply, your voice a drowsy murmur.

“Good,” Ross whispers, his fingers still moving in slow circles. “Just keep breathing deeply. I’m here with you.”

The minutes pass in a tranquil haze, the room quiet except for the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional whisper from Ross. With his tender care, the insomnia that had gripped you starts to release its hold.

Feeling completely relaxed, you whisper, “I love you so much.”

Ross leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your skin, his words a soft caress.

As his arms wrap around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, you feel his steady heartbeat against your back. The sense of safety and love envelops you, and you finally let yourself drift off to sleep. Ross continues to hold you close, his presence a comforting shield against the night.

[batsplat]

It didn't turn out quite as we'd planned because I got sick, really sick. I had cold sweats and a terrible fever, to the point where I couldn't walk and could hardly talk or even hear because my ears were blocked up. I was starting to improve when we made the short drive over the Austrian border for me to catch a flight from Vienna to Doha, Qatar, for the second race of the season. I had to say goodbye to Adri as she was going home to Adelaide. When we arrived in Vienna we found out our flight had been delayed for 24 hours, so we ended up driving back to Adri's family's place until the next day. When we did eventually get a flight, for some bizarre reasons the woman at the check-in put my tickets together with some guy who was travelling in business class who I didn't know. I didn't worry too much about it then but when I went to transfer to our connecting flight in Dubai they wouldn't let me board the plane until the guy turned up, even though my name was on the list. I waited for everyone to board and of course the guy didn't show. He must have taken an earlier flight but I had no way of knowing for sure. I was furious! I had to go ll the way out of the terminal and book another flight but there wasn't an available seat until the next day. I didn't have a credit card back then so that made things a lot more difficult too. I spent 24 hours in Dubai airport and arrived in Doha 48 hours later than planned, with only an hour to spare before the first free practice was due to start.

^Casey Stoner in FP1

I spoke to Lucio when I landed and he said, 'If your bags don't arrive within five minutes just leave them.' I arrived at the track ten minutes before the session started, got changed, got on the bike and set the fastest time of the session. I was four-tenths of a second quicker than my closest challenger, who was Valentino Rossi. I ran second fastest in the second session that afternoon, fastest in the third free practice the next morning and then qualified on pole position. I was the second youngest rider ever to do that after Grand Prix legend Freddie Spencer.

^Casey Stoner before the race

I suppose it was a bit too much to ask for that momentum to continue through the race. Since 2008 we have ridden at night in Qatar because the organisers wanted to introduce a night race into the calendar. Qatar was always a good race for us because of the hot conditions, the tyres would overheat causing the bike to move around a lot more, and that suited me. I enjoyed racing in the heat but because of my lack of sleep and the hectic flight my sickness started to get worse again. I wasn't able to recuperate so by race day I was already worn out. I managed to hold off Rossi and lead for the opening nine laps of the race but I was tired so wasn't able to be as aggressive on the bike as I needed to be and I gradually dropped out of the podium positions and finished fifth, which was still a good result considering the lead-up, I wanted better though.

^Casey Stoner and Valentino Rossi fighting in the race, shaking hands afterwards

from Casey Stoner's 'Pushing the Limits' about Qatar 2006, his second premier class race and first pole position

[chaotic-zora]

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

Silvyr! I know we've talked a little about this, and you've written about it on their character description sheet-- but how well does Silvyr take care of themself? Especially after they've drained themself using their powers?

This was a FUN one to type up, it got so long ahahah.

Silvyr's self care management is....lacking, in some ways. They are more conscious about it when outside of their Domain (one cannot afford to look weak while negotiating), but when they are within the safety of their Domain oh boi, do they like to test their limits.

Silvyr has a bad migraine? Well that sucks, but there is still paperwork that needs to get done so their ignoring it. Dizzy spell? Ack, they'll sit down later they need to go talk to a few others first. Muscles aching? Ignore it, keep walking, it never goes away anyway.

Sometimes they can even be found passed out at their desk from pulling an all nighter, much to the chargin of everyone in the domain. But that's the thing, Silvyr takes care of the domain, and in turn, is beloved and taken care of by EVERYONE within it.

If Silvyr is stumbling around shivering and looking exhausted you BET a few zora have are already approached them with the intent to lure them into a communal sleeping pool. Passed out at their desk? There's already a few blankets draped over their shoulders. Silvyr forgets about one of their medical appointments? Nyvor will track them down and do an on the go medical check in as Silvyr works. Silvyr having a really bad day of chills? Thresh has noticed and brought them their favorite fish stuffed with spicy peppers to warm them up.

It is this help, and the insistence of others (their mates, friends, and the Domain as a whole) that has gotten them better at taking care of themselves.

Some of the things they routinely do to manage pains/aches/post magic effects include:

Routine healing sessions with Nyvor (to manage muscle aches & pains). Frequent trips to the underwater Volcano (extremely warm! Where others have to wear sapphires to stay cool Silvyr does not. The intense heat is great for them especially when they are experiencing chills.) Eating spicy food, it helps elevate their internal temperature! Visiting dark places (preferably underwater), whenever they have a headache.

When they are completely drained from their powers is when these side effects are at their worst. I think you did an AMAZING job depicting this in Denouncement. Seriously, all the kudos to how you showed the strain Silvyr's ice magic puts on their body, without making them seem incapable.

After they've been drained from excessive use of ice magic they need like a two day sleep marathon, preferably in a heated pool or surrounded by others for body warmth. They will also check in with a healer for potential frostbite/hypothermia damage. Not so fun fact! Their chipped fins are from overuse of magic, where frostbite had settled in and the fin shattered as a result. Very painful experience.

The WORST side effect they can experience due to a serious magic drain are low sanity episodes. This is delirium caused by the onset of hypothermia. It's very rare for this to occur, but when it does Silvyr will require the complete assistance of others, as they'll have difficulty comprehending where they are, and may say some pretty inane things.

Don't let the above fool you though! In terms of battle Silvyr can still hold their own, it takes a prolonged fight and powerful spells to reach a total drain.