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cressidagrey · 1 month ago

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Garage Time

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Felicity and Bee Piastri: Two Peas in a Pod

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Oscar had always known he wasn’t the smartest person in the house.

It wasn’t a competition. It wasn’t even close.

He could read tire degradation like a second language. He could predict weather shifts by the way wind moved across a track. He could tell you the weight of pressure on his back wheel just by how the steering wheel twitched in his hands.

But true brilliance—the intricate, layered, quietly relentless kind? That belonged to Felicity.

And now, it seemed, to Bee too.

He stood now in the open doorway of what used to be an old stable—transformed by Felicity into a workshop, a garage, and more recently, a sanctuary. It smelled like grease, dust, and something warm—like a life that had been lived in deeply. And it echoed, faintly, with the laughter of his four-year-old daughter and the murmur of her mother’s steady voice.

Bee was sitting on a stacked milk crate in her favorite overalls—dark blue with patches on the knees, one of which she’d sewn on herself with needle-sharp concentration. She was holding a mini flashlight and a torque wrench like they were holy relics. Her goggles were too big and kept sliding down her nose, but she pushed them up without pausing her inspection.

“Mama,” she said, very seriously, “the rust’s gotten worse again. The wire brush isn’t enough. We need the Dremel with the diamond bit.”

Without looking up, Felicity reached over and passed the exact attachment. “Already out. Be careful of the edges.”

Oscar just stood there, quietly floored.

They moved like clockwork—precise, in sync, saying more with glances than most people could manage in full conversations. There was a kind of sacredness to it. A ritual born from repetition, trust, and shared obsession.

The car in front of them—a fire-red ‘67 Alfa Romeo Spider— was half-dead. But he knew that it would run again. Because Felicity always took broken things and fixed them. Piece by piece, bolt by bolt.

Their shared language wasn’t just tools and tasks. It was detail. Precision. Respect for the process.

Bee had preferences the same way her mother did—strong, specific ones. She didn’t like when the wrenches were out of order. She couldn’t focus if her socks didn’t match. She insisted on a clipboard instead of a notebook and wanted her snacks in “even-numbered bites.” Her world made sense when things were in place. When they followed the rules she understood.

Oscar leaned on the doorframe, watching as Felicity wiped grease off her hands and adjusted her ponytail with the calm confidence of someone who knew how to make something run again.

“Should I take out the bolts on the intake next?” Bee asked, peering over the engine like a surgeon.

“Not yet,” Felicity said, crouching beside her. “We check the seals first. Otherwise we’re redoing work we didn’t have to.”

Bee nodded solemnly. “That’s inefficient.”

Oscar could barely process it. His three-year-old was talking about mechanical inefficiency.

He scratched the back of his neck, a grin tugging at his lips. “I feel like I should be helping.”

Felicity looked up at him, eyes gleaming. “You are helping.”

“By standing here and trying not to mess anything up?”

“Exactly.”

Bee giggled. “Papa, your hands are too big for the screws. And you said last time the engine ‘judged you.’”

“It did!” Oscar protested. “It made a weird noise. I don’t trust it.”

Felicity rolled her eyes fondly. “It was the starter clicking. Because you wired it backward.”

“Okay,” he muttered. “We don’t all come with a degree in car resurrection.”

But he didn’t mind.

Not even a little.

Because as he watched Felicity patiently show Bee how to handle the dremel, the way she knelt beside her daughter without condescension, the way Bee looked at her like she was a superhero in greasy overalls—it hit him again.

These two?

They were brilliant.

Felicity, with her steady mind and quieter kind of sharpness. The woman who once redesigned their kitchen shelving because she couldn’t stand inefficient spatial flow.

And Bee, who had probably invented three new tools in her head before snack time.

He was raising a genius. And he’d married one too.

And somehow—by some miracle—they both loved him.

He stepped closer. Bee didn’t look up. “If you mess up the socket order again, Mama said you’ll be benched.”

Felicity snorted softly. “Fair warning. Last week you rearranged them by size instead of frequency of use.”

“Because that makes sense!”

“Not to us,” Bee said without looking up. “We sort by practicality, not aesthetics.”

Oscar put both hands in the air. “Understood. I’m on thin ice.”

He sat on the edge of the workbench, watching as Felicity guided Bee’s hand on the Dremel with practiced calm. Bee's brows were furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out slightly, the same way Felicity looked when she was threading electrical wire.

They even leaned the same way when they worked—weight over their left hip, elbow tucked in, steady, focused.

God, they were so alike.

Same quiet brilliance. Same way of existing in a world that didn’t always understand how particularity could be a comfort.

Oscar loved them for it.

Even if he sometimes felt like a different species.

Still, he didn’t mind. He’d take the role of “fuel technician” or “guy who messes up the wrench order” any day if it meant getting to watch this.

“Do you want me to get snacks?” he asked eventually.

Bee perked up immediately. “Apple juice, please. Cold. In the bee cup. The one with the yellow straw.”

Felicity added, “And banana bread. No crust. Don’t forget the butter this time.”

Oscar grinned. “See? I have a purpose.”

“You’re our supply chain,” Bee said, solemn and sweet.

He headed for the kitchen, but his thoughts lingered behind.

Because here, in the garage, Bee shone.

But outside of it—at kindergarten, in playgroups, at birthday parties—she dimmed. Just a little. Enough for him to notice. Enough that it ached.

She preferred machines to playgrounds. She corrected her teachers, and she’d rather spend the day with chickens and torque specs than kids her age. She reached for her mama’s hand instinctively at parties, only relaxed when Felicity was near, and she quietly dimmed herself when other children didn’t understand her.

He worried about what the world would do with a girl like her.

With a girl who didn’t shrink for anyone. Who asked questions teachers couldn’t answer.

Who didn’t just think outside the box—she would take the box apart with a ratchet set, draw schematics for a new one, and filed a request to optimize the corners.

Bee didn’t fit neatly anywhere.

Except here.

Here, in the workshop with her mother—who got it. Who was it. Who had been that same sharp-edged, too-bright child once. The one who asked too many questions and took apart toasters to understand thermodynamics.

And Oscar… didn’t know what to do with that. Not really.

He loved that Bee was uniquely herself. He wouldn’t change her for the world. But part of him worried, about how hard the world could be on girls who didn’t make themselves easier to understand.

So he made snacks.

He carved out spaces for her to be seen. To be known. He bought her every kind of notebook and wrench and Lego motor he could find, and he kept the world soft when it felt too loud for her.

In the kitchen, he poured apple juice for Bee and mango for Felicity. He cut thick slices of banana bread and added three forks—just in case Bee was in one of her “tools for everything” moods.

As he plated everything, he caught his reflection in the darkened microwave door—messy hair, oil smudge on his hoodie from leaning too close to Bee earlier, and a smile he couldn’t quite wipe away.

The kind of smile that came from a life that didn’t need spotlight to shine.

When he returned to the garage, it was quieter now, but only in the way a good story quiets down before the twist.

Bee was kneeling on a foam mat with a serious expression, focused on drawing something on a clipboard— Oscar could see crude sketches: rectangles, labels, what looked like airflow arrows.

Felicity was beside her, wiping down a set of socket wrenches, her ponytail starting to fall loose. There was grease on her jawline and a streak of dirt across her sleeve. She looked radiant.

Oscar set the snacks down on the workbench gently. “Refueling, as requested.”

Bee looked up from her clipboard. “Thank you, Papa.”

Oscar smiled. “You’re welcome, Bumblebee.”

She handed him her sketch. “I redesigned the air filter casing.”

It was crude and hand-drawn, but shockingly insightful.

“She got the concept from my old Haynes manual,” Felicity said, already chewing her bite of bread. “I left it on the shelf by accident. She read the airflow diagrams before bed.”

Oscar blinked. “She’s three.”

Bee held up four fingers. “Almost four.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Almost four and already smarter than me.”

Felicity smirked. “She gets it from me.”

“You both terrify me,” he muttered, but there was no real fear in his voice—only awe.

The three of them sat quietly for a while, Bee content to sketch while Felicity wiped her tools with a meticulous rhythm.

Oscar didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt.

He just watched—content, in love, and quietly aware that he’d somehow been chosen by the two most remarkable people he’d ever met.

He might not always understand their blueprints, or why grease made them both so happy, or why the wrench order mattered so much—

But he didn’t need to.

They were his. He was theirs.

And that was more than enough.

He couldn’t predict how far Bee’s mind would go. Maybe she’d design cars instead of drive them. Maybe she’d run wind tunnel simulations in her sleep. Maybe she’d abandon it all for marine biology because she liked dolphins more than spark plugs.

He didn’t know.

What he did know was this:

He got to watch it happen. He got to be here. Even if he didn’t understand every detail, every gear, every tiny plan scribbled on scrap paper.

He got to be the one who brought the juice boxes. Who wiped grease off her cheek. Who kissed Felicity on the forehead while she calibrated torque like it was second nature.

He got to build a life alongside them.

He wasn’t the smartest in the house. Not by a long shot.

But he was the one who got to call it home.

And that? That was the best kind of win.

#formula 1 #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #Oscar Piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 fic #op81 imagine

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rose24207 · 5 months ago

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AHHH..!

Summary: Lando panics mid-stream over his girlfriend’s scream, only to find she’s overreacting to a horror game.

Genre: humor, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: ignore the title…. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt.2

Lando leaned back in his chair, his headset snug over his ears, as he focused on the intense F1 simulator race he was playing live on Twitch. Thousands of fans flooded the chat, spamming emojis and cheering him on. His tongue poked out slightly as he braked late into a sharp corner, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, glancing at the mini-map. “P1 is mine—just need to nail this next sector.”

The chat exploded with messages.

"Focus, Lando!”

“Y/N would be beating you right now!”

“Y/N is streaming too, isn’t she?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I saw her go live before me. She’s probably off building another ridiculous castle in Minecraft or something. You guys know she gets way too into that stuff.”

Unbeknownst to him, you weren’t playing Minecraft. You had decided—for reasons you were already regretting—to tackle a survival horror game that was known for its relentless jump scares.

As Lando passed the final sector, his victory within reach, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air.

It wasn’t just any scream—it was your scream. High-pitched, panicked, and filled with the kind of terror usually reserved for an actual emergency.

“WHAT THE—” Lando flinched violently, his hands jerking the wheel as his car spun out. “Y/N?” His heart leapt into his throat as he ripped off his headset, his wide eyes darting toward the direction of your gaming setup in the next room.

The chat went into an immediate frenzy.

"WHAT WAS THAT!?”

“That sounded like Y/N!”

“BRO, GO CHECK ON HER!”

“SHE’S SCREAMING LIKE SHE’S BEING MURDERED OMG.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Lando muttered, fumbling to mute his mic. He shot out of his chair, his wheels spinning with a loud clatter as it hit the wall behind him. He bolted toward your room, heart pounding, as every worst-case scenario ran through his head.

Meanwhile, in your stream, chaos reigned.

“Oh my God, oh my God, NO!” you shrieked, your voice breaking slightly as your in-game character crouched in a dark hallway. You clutched your mouse tightly, your other hand hovering over the keyboard, ready to hit the escape key at any moment. “WHERE IS IT? WHY IS IT SO QUIET?!”

Your chat was absolutely loving it.

“This is why you don’t play horror games!”

“Headphone users are DEAD.”

“LMAO she’s about to quit.”

The silence in the game dragged on for a moment longer, heightening your nerves. You inched forward cautiously, your character’s flashlight flickering ominously.

And then, without warning, the grotesque creature you’d been dreading lunged at the screen with an ear-shattering roar.

“AAAAHHHHH!” you screamed again, throwing your hands into the air as your chair shot backward, slamming into the wall. Your headphones slid off your head and dangled around your neck as you scrambled to get away from the desk, heart racing.

“NOPE! I’M DONE! I’M DONE!” you yelled, your voice cracking as you practically launched yourself onto the couch in the corner of the room.

That’s when Lando burst into the room, his face pale and panicked. “Y/N?! What happened? Are you okay?”

You screamed again out of fright before you looked up at him from the couch, still clutching your chest. “Lando! Oh my God, you scared me!”

“I scared you?” He blinked, his gaze darting around the room. His eyes landed on your paused game, the horrifying creature frozen mid-attack on the screen. Slowly, his face twisted into a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Wait…was that scream because of… that?”

“YES!” you shouted, gesturing wildly toward the screen. “Look at it! It jumped out of nowhere!”

He stared at the screen again, squinting. “Are you serious? It’s just a…a thing with teeth! That’s not even scary!”

“Not scary? NOT SCARY?! It’s terrifying!” you exclaimed, still catching your breath. “I thought I was gonna die, Lando. Like, my soul left my body for a second.”

His lips twitched, and before you could say anything else, he burst out laughing. “Your soul—oh my God, Y/N. You screamed like someone broke into the house!”

“Well, it felt like someone did!” you retorted, your voice still a little shaky.

Both of your streams had caught up by now, and your respective chats were absolutely losing it.

“LMFAO HE BARGED IN LIKE A HERO!”

“Her scream broke the sound barrier.”

“Why is this the funniest thing ever?”

Lando walked over to your desk and leaned in toward your mic, grinning. “Chat, I need you to confirm—did she actually scream that loud over this thing?” He pointed at the screen dramatically. “Be honest.”

“Stop embarrassing me!” you groaned, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him. He caught it effortlessly, smirking.

“Oh, you’re never living this down,” he teased, sitting down in your chair and swiveling toward you. “You just gave your stream—and mine, for that matter—the greatest moment of the night.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t,” he said confidently, leaning back. “You love me. And besides, I’m your knight in shining armor. I came running when I heard you screaming for help.”

“Yeah, and then immediately started making fun of me,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“That’s just my way of calming you down.” He shrugged innocently before turning to look at your paused game again. “Alright, let’s finish it together. I’ll keep you safe from all the big, scary monsters.”

You groaned, but a small smile crept onto your face. “Fine. But if you scream, I’m never letting you live it down.”

“Deal,” he said, smirking. “But trust me, I don’t scream.”

Fifteen minutes later, after another brutal jumpscare, Lando let out a high-pitched yell that could probably rival yours. And you? You made sure both of your streams—and all the clips—had proof.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando x you #fluff #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #humor #streaming #streamer!reader #funny #twitch #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #stream #horror #horror games

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cherie-doll · 5 months ago

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Can I request COD Men dating a medic reader,??

I love your writing sm ^-^

Ofc!

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men x Medic!Reader

Price

Imagine being the new medic and you're nervous because it's your first time working there so you have to try your best to hold it together while patching people up

But one day Price comes in injured and you have to control your nerves as you clean his wound up, he's surprisingly nice and even makes small talk with you, it calms you down

After, you manage to keep thinking about that interaction, just how nice it felt to have a normal conversation, it took your mind off of things and honestly it kept you from a mini panic attack from happening

He wishes he could come see you more often, he liked how refreshing it felt to meet someone who seemed a little hesitant, too afraid to mess up, he likes how you smiled after speaking with him

Since he's busy most of the time he can't come to you as often, but I imagine he likes to invite you to just come and talk to him as you drink with him, it's comforting knowing you can bask in his company and he provides you a shoulder to rest on

Ghost

Believe it or not he trusts you a lot, he shows up to your office in his most vulnerable moments, when he's hurt you treat him and never mention anything of it, he knows it's just you doing your job but he can't help but feel like there is an underlying tone to it

He likes resting in your office or recovery room when he wants to get away from everyone else but can't find a quiet place to do so, he likes his alone time and if being in the medic's room where no one is to come in looking for him then he'll stay there during his free time

He secretly started growing a stronger liking to you when you covered for him and told his buddies they couldn't visit because he "needed to rest", not that he hates his friends he just likes his alone time

He often struggles to sleep so to get away from the other soldiers who snore loudly he'll come to you knowing you're almost always up late and drinking tea, like a cat who is content sitting without talking or doing anything next to you and eventually falls asleep

You tend to admire him silently, the features that you can see through his balaclava when he's not aware of it

Soap

Every time he comes to get checked up he likes making you laugh and telling you the worst jokes, but it makes you laugh lightly and honestly keeps you awake and sane from working overtime since you treat a lot of emergencies

He will be laughing as if he doesn't feel the alcohol you're using to disinfect his wound, he likes pretending like he doesn't feel pain when you push the needle in because he doesn't want to be weak in front of you, it's sort of turned into you trying to make him wince or show that it hurts but he tries grits his teeth and holds it in

Doesn't even know he likes you like that until others are teasing him about how often he talks about you and how he'll try to impress you, in his mind he hasn't come to that realization yet, not that he's denying it because he really enjoys your company

You probably get very nervous checking his eyes when you shine the flashlight on them because you notice the way his eyes crinkle, indicating he's smiling and you have to hold the grin before it shows on your face

As a boyfriend he'd be coming by every moment he can to just cling to you when you're on your breaks and you'll have a hard time getting him to leave you alone or give you some space

Gaz

I can imagine him already having a liking to you, he likes coming by every morning that he can to visit you before anyone else can bother you and just hanging around your office when he's in need of good company

You enjoy his company because he's not unnecessarily flirty like other the others are, he's respectful, caring about your mental health because you deal with so many people on the daily but with him it's different, you don't feel that obligation to smile or put on a fake act around him

Your tired eyes light up seeing him knowing you're going to be recharged emotionally and mentally, it's come to the point where you even seek him after your work is done hoping to spend more time with him

It's sort of hard finding time alone together when so many other people are friends with him yet the moment he sees you he'll pull away from everyone else to go to you

Roach

I have a hc that even if he survives the absolute worst situations no one else has he still deals with the aftermath of it and it's many complications and frequently getting checkups from you just to assure his health is good enough to keep getting sent out to missions

He ends up spending more time with you than he does with most of the other soldiers or members of the task force

He confides so much in you, things he'd never share with anyone else and yet you listen to him so attentively it honestly makes him develop an attachment to you and he'd look for any opportunity to reciprocate the attention you give him

You sometimes hate the way others treat him, despite being a chill guy to be around he's often a little out of orbit when it comes to socializing with the others, you'd think going through shit together would unite them but strangely enough he doesn't get enough dopamine from them like he does with you

It might be wrong to feel this way but you care more about him than all the others, you'll rush to attend his needs before the others

Alejandro

He is actually a very lousy patient, it takes you ages to try to get him to take medication or inject the needle into him despite him always teasing the other soldiers who have had medical procedures done to them

You have to be ready with a cloth and ice pack to instantly place on him or else he'll be wanting to bang his head against the wall for the dramatics, you let him hold your hand, anything to bring him comfort or some sort of relief at that point

To avoid getting to that level of pain he'll often drink before coming to you so he's not fully in his senses to actually feel or register anything you may be doing that would usually cause him to panic, you hate when he does this because you prefer him to be fully aware

Other than that he'll always try flirting with you or calling you something like "chula" in Spanish when passing by you and you simply roll your eyes and hide a smirk knowing he's nothing like that when you approach with a needle

Rudy

He's probably known you since before you were a medic, he's seen how much effort you've put into your training to be where you are today he respects you so much for it

He worries so much for you, probably more than you do for him which is funny because he has the "riskier" job, but he often worries about how you are being treated knowing some of the soldiers you treat have trauma and it can make you very stressed with them

He makes sure you get your much needed rest, especially during the breaks everyone else is gone and you still have to stay around "just in case"

There was this one time he was injured pretty badly and he had to be laid down as someone called the medic, he didn't know who would come but he felt his heart skip a beat seeing it was you running towards him, you knelt by his side and with a warm smile reassured him you wouldn't let him slip away from your grasp just yet

He didn't even need a painkiller when he held your hand to his chest so you could feel how much his heart beat showing you he was still alive and well

Phillip Graves

He could be dying on the bed, clutching a wound with blood gushing out and he'll still manage to give a smug smile and ask for your number, you want to suffocate him with a pillow sometimes but you'll most likely be blamed for medical malpractice, instead you just say "HIPPA" and that shuts him up for now

I like to think he brings his Shadows for checkups like a father bringing his children to the pediatrician, some of them aren't fond of it but he makes them go through it to ensure they are healthy and fit for their next mission or training

If one of his Shadows get severely injured he's rushing to see you with them in his arms (he can't actually carry them have you seen how big his Shadows are??) and begging you to help them, will literally be in tears hoping they heal up just fine and that nothing bad ends up happening

Afterwards, you just kinda have to give him that reassurance and he'll be eternally grateful to you for what you do for him and his team, and don't think that just because you aren't "that important" to his company because he makes sure you feel like a vital member of the family

Him and the Shadows will enjoy spending time with you outside of your work area just to show their appreciation

Makarov

You often worry about him, more than you should, he's always taking risks and needed to end up being brought into your office to have something done to him, you can only sigh and lecture him but he's never the type to take his injuries seriously, most of the time he takes bold decisions and that impacts his health

Most of the time he prefers having you go to him, so you have to pack your stuff up and go treat whatever he's dealing with, he often uses these opportunities as excuses to get to know you better and just overall toy with you

You hate when he does this as it wastes time and he's keeping you away from patients who could be needing treatment, whenever you hint at this he simply shrugs it off, clearly not caring about others

You carry so much responsibility on your shoulders to be carelessly leaving where you're stationed to treat a paper cut, but after all he always slips in something extra to keep you coming

Keegan

Loves to initiate arguments with you for the fun of it, you two will be bickering over him not wanting to take a prescription you've given him

You could be stressing over an infected cut and he's trying to act as if it were nothing, that being said the sounds he makes when he's injured and grunting and clutching his arm or side in pain and trying to control his breathing have me AKJERUJS-

He doesn't actually get to see you all that often as he wishes but you know he'll be coming to get "treated" when he comes back from a mission, he always thinks to come see you before anyone else can

And he knows you're often at risk too when you have to go along to treat sick and injured soldiers, he doesn't like to dwell too much on how you could be in danger so he just chooses to focus on his task knowing if he's not careful he won't be able to make it back to tease you again

König

He's the type to rarely go to the medic just because wounds on his body heal insanely fast but also because you will have to FORCE this man to enter your office

He was used to his the previous medic, an older man who took his time with each patient, could barely see which is why he often told the soldiers who came to him to read the medicine labels for him and such

But imagine his surprise when he walks into your office and sees a younger medic there instead of the old medic, he's completely silent as he sits in the chair waiting for you to clean a wound he only came because the pain got so bad he couldn't suppress it

Now he's considering saying he's fine and walking out, but you're already washing your hands and putting gloves on, going over to him and asking for him to show you the injury

He has to look away and his eyes roam the room, looking for something to focus on other than your focused stare, and gentle fingertips that hover over his skin as you inspect the wound that he could have ignored for a little longer

Horangi

He is a headache to deal with, comes in after every mission to get his injuries treated but will talk A LOT, mostly boasting and smug explaining how he got this bruise and those cuts

You're tired of hearing him but honestly you'll take whatever as a distraction, and you know he's BUILT like that man will be flexing his biceps and you can't help but stare at them, also his waist?!?

Before leaving he always jokes for you not to miss him incase he doesn't come back from the next mission, you just roll your eyes because you don't want to admit that he's grown on you and his absence is something you don't even want to think about

He likes sending you notes with flirty messages on them to show his growing interest in wanting to pursue a relationship with you because you never give in to letting him have your number, he always wants to take you out to some fancy restaurant or cook for you himself, anything to get you out of your office for a day and spend it with him alone

Nikto

You're often doing a million things at once, quickly treating a patient and ushering them out so you can see the next one who's grunting as they wait in line, that day Nikto has to get something treated and he just so happens to go on a busy day

You're in a rush to treat your patients in pain but he notices some of them aren't even in pain, they seem to have relaxed looks on their faces and they don't have any wounds that he can see, they even joke and laugh with one another

Turns out some of them are only there to chat with you, as happens most of the time with soldiers who are stationed in one place too long with little to no freedom to roam anywhere else, Nikto doesn't understand why they would waste your time when it's finally his turn to see you and you tenderly yet efficiently treat him

He likes the way you touched him, even if it was only you doing your job, he likes your pretty eyes, even if you barely looked at him, he thinks your voice is precious to hear, even if you only used it to direct a single question to him, now he understands those soldiers in line who don't mind waiting an hour just to be with you for a moment

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months ago

Note

How about some mafia max heartbreak

One of the uncles gets hurt in their house and the babies see🥺 maybe Cassie finding uncle Charles or fabby finding lando unconscious and freaking out

A/N: Oh these poor babies, I hate to put them through heart break but...alright I couldn't put baby Fabby through that so light angst.

He knew he was supposed to be asleep; Momma had put him to bed hours ago but instead of sleeping he's been up reading the books that Uncle Lala got him. Fabby knew it wasn't smart, Daddy or Momma could catch him, but he really loved his new books.

Fabby jumps, hearing a crash and people cursing but then it grows silent, he gently clicks off his flashlight, hoping that Momma or Daddy don't come in the room. But just like his father, his curiosity gets the better of him as he tiptoes out of his room, making sure not to wake up Cassie.

Holding his little dino stuffie he carefully walks down the stairs, knowing that at 4 he should be careful, and careful he is, like the good boy Daddy always calls him. He stops when he hears the familiar voice of his father, and he hugs his dino stuffie tight.

Looking around the corner Fabby freezes seeing Uncle Lala laying on the floor with people rushing around him. "Lala!" Max whips around fast, horror and dread dropping in his stomach seeing his little baby boy there in his pjs and holding his stuffie.

"Fabby," He whispers and moves quickly picking up Fabian and holding him close. "Lala," He cries starting to get panicky wanting his Uncle Lando to wake up. "Daddy, Lala, why not he....wake up," Fabby starts to sniff and Max moves them into the kitchen making sure he couldn't hear or see anything.

"Lala has to take a nap right now, he's really tired so he has to nap, like you should be doing," Max explains softly, not wanting to freak out his son. "Daddy, take nappy with Lala?" He moves to get down but Max holds him still, so he doesn't jump off and go to Lando. "No, baby, come on you can sleep with me," Fabby shakes his head no, his eyes getting wide and glossy.

"Wan Lala," Fabby whimpers and Max sighs, dropping his head as he knew Fabian wouldn't give up easy. "Max?" The kitchen light flicks on as you freeze seeing Fabby up and Max's blood spattered shirt. "Max, go change, now." You say softly, but also quiet sternly that has him looking down and going pale.

"Oh, oh god, Y/n, baby, I didn't know," He whispers, and moves quickly going up the stairs as you walk and cage Fabian in. "Fabby, little kitten, what are you doing up?" You ask softly, pushing back his little blonde hair. "Lala," He points with his little hand and you look behind you.

"Stay here," You say and move into the living room and notices the doctors are done with Lando. "Is he...awake?" You whisper kneeling as you press his hair back sighing. You knew how much Fabby loved Lando, it was the same with Cassian and Charles, thick as thieves. "Yeah, little groggy," Doc nods and Lando chuckles softly, "4 bullets, ironic," And you smile, knowing 4 was Lando's lucky number.

"Oscar and Carlos are going to be pissed," Lando groans and rolls his eyes. "Whatever," "Well, Mr. Lucky, you've got mini you worried," Lando tries to sit up but Doc gently shoves him down. "Uhu," He shakes his head but Lando fights him.

"I'll go get him," You reassure and Lando nods as Max comes jogging down the stairs, "Hey man," And moves quickly to his side. "Took some bullets for you, and all you say is "hey man"" Lando grumbles but stops as Fabby comes running in holding his dino. "Lala," Lando smiles and moves using his good arm to lift him up. "Hey dino man," Fabby giggles and lays down. "Read?" He asks and Max chuckles.

"Fabby, Lala will read to you later, get some sleep," He whispers and leans down kissing Fabby head who giggles. "Do I get a kiss too?" Lando giggles and Max smacks him lightly on the head. "Yes," You lean down and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for bringing my husband home," You whisper, Max wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Thank you," Max whispers turning off the light as Lando makes up a story to Fabby, the sounds of little giggles leave you and Max as you walk upstairs.

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