#I like the idea that Martin names her

[occudo]

Very important question: does Jon and Martin's cat have a name?

I'm bad at naming things, so I'm open to suggestions :D

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I think a lot about how badly the "I lied on my CV" scene would go with Archivist Sasha. A LOT. Now this is based on some things:

a) The paranoia

• A lot of Archivist Sasha AUs act as if she would be imune to the paranoia arc and here is why I disagree:

1. By being the Archivist and feeding the eye you are automatically dealing with an extended feeling of being watched all the time. Not to mention the Eye is literally a paranoia entity (between it's other areas).

2. While Sasha doesn't appear to have Jon's trust issues she has a need to know at least equal to him and a tendency of theorizing. She was of course right when assuming Gertrude kept the archieves messy on purpose but that also shows that between being very smart she is very doubtifull of any behavior outside the person's normal.

3. In that same conversation ahe mentions how everyone has a mask and says to Tim, likely her best friend, that he is as honest to her as he is to Jon it is just different masks. She is fine with this. She is okay with the masks. But that is before things go wrong.

4. She KNEW Gertrude. That means solving her murder is more personal.

b) Sasha knows her shit way to well

• This one is the real fascinsting thing: Sasha is a master in figuring out people's secrets and keeping them for herself. She knew from the start Jon lied about his age and that Martin lied on his CV. To the point that for her this knowledge about Martin is a fun fact and irrelevant, a thing she keeps from because she knows he would be anxious if he knew she knows. The thing is that translating to the "I lied in my CV confession" we have:

• Paranoid Sasha found Martin's letter to his mother (likely writen as a diary with no intencion to actually send it) and thinks that Martin lied about Trevor being dead.

• She knows Martin lied on his CV and it's meaningless to her to the point she might suspect he knows she knows.

• She knows Martin has a complicated relationship with his mother and that means she would assume it to be very unlikely he would ever write this personal of a letter to her.

Conclusion:

Sasha would probably think Martin is using the fsct he lied on his CV as a diversion and truly has an awfull secret. She would also likely tell to his face she knows it isn't it because Martin's mum would never read or care about his feelings or letters and Martin should know this enough to not even bother to write "so this is likely a codename".

[ride-a-dromedary]

One more thing while I’m back on the Cyrano bs, but I will never be over the interpretive duality of this line (both in how it’s written and delivered) from the Crimp adaptation:

“You’re telling me, you loved me, but you signed his name. His name, Cyrano! How many times?”

[heepthecheep]

There are so many stories to be told!!!!!!!

[siriuslyapuff]

mic'd up for aces v fever/ k.martin

kate martin x reader!

summary: you're mic'd up at the Aces game versus the Indiana Fever as your girlfriend plays her (and your) best friend.

!𝑨𝑩𝑩𝒀 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺¡

okay okay my first wbb fic on here (lol pls be nice)

also, this is my first ever y/n fic so...

Two days before the Aces were set to play the Fever, you were sent an email from the Aces media team. Kate had been sitting behind you as you opened it, laughing immediately at their request. They were practically begging you to be mic’d up at the game, courtside. They wanted you of course, due to your connection as a Hawkeye, deciding to come back for a fifth year instead of entering the draft as you were going for your masters. It also helped that their star rookie was your girlfriend. 

It was an easy decision. You told them, yes, ignoring the teasing from your girlfriend as you did so. Honestly, it seemed like a great idea to you, getting to commentate on your girlfriend and your best friend as they went head to head for the first time as pros. 

“Baby, you realize this is the perfect opportunity for me to embarrass the hell out of you and Cinamon?” Kate got quiet real fast after that threat. 

🂡🂡🂡

The day of the game had arrived, and you decided to go with Kate to the lab, as it was a home game for the Aces. As soon as you arrived the team swarmed upon you, laughing and asking for you to add in specific commentary tonight during the game. 

“No Syd I will not tell everyone you’re single and ready to mingle,” you playfully shove the older woman, laughing with everyone else as she starts to fake cry. “Go away you baby, I gotta go get mic’d.” 

They all began to hype you up as the media crew came over with a little clip-on mic and pac. You listened intently as they walked you through how it would work tonight. You’d be seated right next to your coaches, and former coach Lisa Bluder, and would have the mic the whole game. You couldn’t be more excited as you knew this would give your girlfriend even more publicity and love from the media and fans. 

You turned to her as she grabbed your hand. 

“I’ll see you in a bit when we head over to Michalaub,” she leaned in, connecting your lips, leaving you wanting just a little bit more. 

🂡🂡🂡

The media team had your mic on as you and Kate made your way into the arena for pre-game shoot-outs. The Fever was already there practicing and you giggled to yourself as you saw Caitlin stretching. 

“Hey guys!” You turned to the cameras, “My name is y/n l/n, some of you may know me as number 26 for the Iowa Hawkeyes, and my favorite title, Kate Martin’s girlfriend!” 

The entire team started laughing as you introduced yourself and you turned around to shush them. Cait couldn’t know you were mic’d up yet. It had to be a surprise. 

“Anyways, I’m going to be mic’d up courtside tonight at the game versus the Fever. But for now, I have a reunion to get to.” You winked at the camera, spinning on your heel and cupping a hand to your mouth. 

“Hey, Cinamon!” Her head whipped around from where she was standing with your girlfriend, the two of them having had their reunion. 

“Tink?” Her eyes went wide with disbelief, she’d known you’d be at the game but had no idea you’d be at shoot around. 

The pair of you collided, and she spun you around the same way Kate had done to her. Tears immediately pooled in your eyes at the contact. You and Caitlin had been friends for years, both of you meeting when you played for USA in 2018. You both committed to Iowa and roomed together Freshman year, she was the sister you’d always wanted, and it had been painful to be away from her. 

“How are you?” You whispered, being mindful of the fact that you were mic’d up. 

“I’m fine,” she smiled at you, repeating what she’d said to Kate, and you knew she’d also seen through the bs answer, but you let it go. 

“I’m all mic’d up tonight,” you grinned, pointing at the mic on your shirt, “Kmart’s scared I’ll embarrass her.” 

“Hey, I never said that!” Kate butted into the conversation, “She’s lying CC.” 

“You calling me a liar right now?” You raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing down at the mic on your chest. 

Kate folded immediately, “No Baby, I would never.” 

You and Caitlin look at each other before bursting out into laughter. Some things never change. 

🂡🂡🂡

“Hello, Las Vegas!” You had a cameraman pointed at you from next to one of the hoops, the media crew had told you they had a few different angles on you, all connected to your mic. “I’m here with some of my favorite women!” 

You wrapped an arm around your former head coach as she laughed, wrapping her own arm around your shoulders. 

“Hey Tink,” she pressed a kiss to the side of your head. She’d been the one to give you your on-court nickname. It started as ‘Tinkerbell’ because you would flit around the court like you were flying while playing defense, and the team eventually just shortened it to ‘Tink’. 

“Hey, coach! You excited for tonight?” You pulled on your shirt so she could talk into the mic. 

“Very excited, it’s going to be weird not yelling at Kate and Caitlin, but I guess I’ll manage.” You and Coach Jan erupted into laughter, and so did Coach Hammon who was listening in with a smirk. 

“I’m also joined by my new head coach!” You positioned your body to face Jan, grinning at her. 

“You excited to see our girls play?” 

“Of course I am! I’ve got my phone ready to take all the behind-the-scenes pictures and videos.” 

“Me too!” You grin, “I can’t wait to hit Caitlin and Katie with the evil 0.5s.” 

You hear the whistle blow, and watch everyone come out onto the floor. 

“There’s Cinamon!” Your eyes find Caitlin and she sends you a grin. “Look at her, my sister from another mister.” 

You watch as the Aces get possession of the ball, eyes following Caitlin as she defends Kelsey. Moving down the court you can’t help but laugh as you watch Jackie attempting to guard her. 

“Jackie’s in for a challenge, CC is hard as hell- oh shit- wait fuck- no sorry, am I allowed to swear? Whatever, Cait’s hard to guard. She’s knocked me on my ass -sorry- a few too many times.” 

“Let’s go!” You stand up as Jackie drains the three, smirking at Cait as she runs past you. 

“Cait that's not your basket.” You laugh as she shoots after Kelsey gets a foul. 

Cait turns the ball over and you share a look with Coach Bluder, this has been a problem since you were Freshmen. Caitlin just sees the game differently and is six steps ahead of everyone else. It was you and Kate who were able to keep up with her pace, which is what made you so unstoppable on the court. It would take time for the Fever to match what she was putting down. 

“Come on Cait, shake it off.” You watch as she misses a three, shaking your head, “she's gonna be pissed about that.” 

Your eyes flit away from the game and onto the figure of your girlfriend as she sits on the bench, eyes fixed on Caitlin and the game. 

“Kmoney is locked in everyone, she’s got her serious face on.” 

Caitlin fouls and you let out an audible “oh shit” before apologizing into your mic again. 

“Cait never loses the ball like that- oh she got it back!” 

Your eyes flick between the bench and the court, waiting for the moment Kate takes off her warmups. 

“A’ja’s going to have a nasty bruise from that.” You watch her get popped in the face, the entire crowd going crazy over it. 

“Guys I’m just sitting here waiting for my girlfriend to go in,” you smile at one of the cameras pointed at you, before pointing at the jersey you’re wearing with Kate’s number on it. 

“I'm repping 20 for a reason. Ooo that sounds like the Sabrina Carpenter song ‘Pushing 20’,” you start humming the song. “Kate when you watch this, that should be your theme song.” 

“LET’S GO!” You jump up from your seat as Caitlin drains her first three of the night, holding up three fingers at her. “That’s my best friend!” You side-eye your girlfriend who’s looking at you with a raised eyebrow “Sorry Katie. You’re still number one in my heart.” 

“Okay CC’s on the bench guys, geez she looks wiped already, girl needs some sleep.” 

“Okay, Megan’s getting ready to check in, a win for the Hawkeyes tonight.” You high-five her as she passes you. “Guys I never played with Megan, but she was a legend when CC and I came in as Rookies.” 

Your girlfriend comes running towards you, “Yes Baby!” You catch her warmup shirt that she tosses aside slapping her ass as she passes. 

“My girl is so fine,” you’ve completely forgotten your coaches are sitting next to you until Julie reaches over. 

“Hey, that’s still my niece Tink!” 

“Sorry, Julie!” Caitlin also gets up to check in, squatting down right next to Kate. You watch them exchange smirks, knowing they’ll be guarding each other. “Here we go, Coach!” 

You nudge Coach Bluder who looks a bit teary-eyed herself. 

“Shit Kelsey,” you catch the ball that bounces out of bounds keeping KP from falling on you. 

“Sorry y/n,” she grins before locking back into the game. 

The buzzer goes and you stand up as Kate and Caitlin check into the game together, “That’s my girl!” 

“Guys I might start crying and that’s embarrassing.” You say as you sit back down, eyes filling up with tears. “It’s weird seeing them in different colors, and sitting on the side instead of being on the floor with them.” 

“Sorry guys you might have to cut this,” you stifle a small sob as you watch them defend each other. It was one thing talking about it, and making jokes, but seeing it happen, and not playing yourself was a whole other thing that had your throat tightening. 

“I’m filming!” Jan says, making you let out a choked laugh. You push back the tears, telling yourself to be happy that they’re both living out their dreams. 

You pull out your phone, taking a few photos and videos of your girl and her best friend as they guard each other for the first time outside of carver-hawkeye. 

They’re both trying to play it cool, but the smile on their faces as they sprint down the court towards you tells a different story. 

“CC and Kmart together again.” You point to Cait who points back giving you a grin. 

“All that’s missing is their Tink.” Coach Bluder says, patting your knee. 

“Look at my girl go!” You grin, pointing at Kate who grabbed the ball in the turnover, making her way down the court. 

“How is that not Aces Ball!?” You’re just as pissed as your girlfriend, who’s gotten good at challenging ref’s over the years. “She’s going to complain about that to me later guys,” you whisper into the mic. 

“Okay guys, the first quarter is over. We had our on-court reunion with my favorite Hawkeyes. How are we feeling, because I’m emotional.” You’re having a one-sided conversation with yourself as Coach Bluder gets up to go sit with the commentators for the second quarter. 

“Guys she’s starting in the second quarter! My girl is a pro now!” 

“I’m never letting that go CC,” you say as you watch her basically throw the ball out of bounds. 

“Look at her, I’m literally the luckiest girl in the world.” 

“Cait just missed that three and it landed in Katie’s hands, once upon a time that would have ended up as an assist.” 

Your eyes widen as you watch Kate go down, her knee at a weird angle, your heart in your throat. “That better not be a bad fall.” You say to Jan, “Thank God.” You mutter as she gets up, sprinting down the court.

“Oh shit, that looked like it hurt,” all respect for your language went out the window the moment Kate fell. You were fired up, the worry for your girlfriend at the max. Even as you watched Cait get smacked in the eye. 

“Cinamon shoots two.” She drains the first, “nice CC,” drains the second, “easy money.” 

“Good job Baby,” Kate smiles at you, hand grazing your leg as she walks back to the bench. 

“Syd babes that was a flop.” You laugh watching her go down. 

“Get some Money!” Kate runs past you again to check-in. “Katie in, CC out.” 

“Shit Kate!” Your hand flys to your mouth as you watch her ankle go, and the limp-hop she does after. “That is not good guys. She shook it off pretty good, but I can tell when my girl is in pain.” 

Kate goes down again, and you can’t help but clench your teeth as you hear the skid of her thigh on the court. “Come on baby, shake it off.” She gets up slower this time, you can tell it’s wearing on her, but she's pushing through. 

“Yes, Money Martin with the assist!” 

“Jesus Christ, is it throw y/n’s girlfriend to the ground day or something?” Kate goes down yet again, this time a foul is called, thankfully. A’ja runs to pull her up and you grin, “Look at A’ja helping my girl out like the good vet she is.” 

You turn your head to look over at Caitlin who has her face buried in her towel, only her eyes showing, and you know it’s her way of keeping her eyes on the game without revealing anything. But you can see worry in the crease between her eyebrows, you’re both not liking the ground time Kate’s been getting. 

Kate walks past you as she comes in for the time-out. She sends you a nod, letting you know she’s okay. 

“Okay guys, sorry for the lack of comments, it’s been a bit tense here. Gotta make sure my girl is fine before I can be commentating.” 

“You would make a terrible sports commentator,” Coach Bluder says, laughing at the put-out look on your face. 

“Cooked by Bluder, everyone!” You hold your hand to your chest in mock hurt, “demolished by my coach. But alas, she’s right. I’d just be too busy talking about my girlfriend to be a good commentator.” 

Coach leans closer to you, “She’s censoring herself for you guys, these are tame compared to the comments she drops during Hawkeye practices and games.” 

“Okay, enough mic time for you coach!” 

“Look at her go bringing the ball up! My little pro.” You practically have heart eyes, and for the first time, you see yourself projected on the jumbotron. 

“Oh okay, I see how it is,” You grin, finding the camera that’s projecting you, winking pointing to your jersey, then the court where Kate is.

The crowd goes insane, causing some of the players to look up, earning a laugh from Caitlin and a wink from Kate. 

“I’m more popular than both of them combined.” 

Kate comes back to the bench again and you squeeze her hand as she passes. She sends you a smile, finding her seat next to Megan again, both of you locking back into the game. 

“Let's go! Halftime baby!” You stand from your seat. “See you guys after the break!” 

🂡🂡🂡

“Okay everyone I’m back! Let's go! I have a feeling we’ll be getting some money this quarter.” 

You turn to look at the empty seats around you. “Well, you may notice I am now awkwardly here alone. Coach Bluder and Coach Jenson are off socializing, so I’m left to man the fort.” 

“I can’t believe they called that a foul,” you mutter, as Coach Hammon goes to challenge the foul a second time. 

“My lover is back in the game, you guys.” You watch as Smith misses both foul shots. 

“That was a waste of a foul.” 

“MONEY!” You shout, jumping to your feet as Kate scores her first points of the day, draining a three with ease. “That’s my fucking girl! Let’s fucking go! We are so back!” 

Kate points to you as she runs down the court, making a heart with her hands as you hold up three fingers. 

“Get her babe!” Kate’s on Caitlin again, and your bias towards your girlfriend begins to show as she plays solid defense. 

After A’ja’s fouled you can see Caitlin talking to the ref about Kate, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s got Kate smirking. 

“They’re talking mad shit to each other, I just know it,” you whisper into the mic. “I wonder how personal those insults are getting.” 

“Baby’s gone beast mode,” you say as you watch Kate celebrating A’ja’s shot. 

“Look at her cheesin’ isn’t she the cutest.” You watch Kate grin at whatever Caitlin says to her. 

“Kmoney for the block!” You yell, “a fucking beast!” 

You stand as she goes for the three, but it rims and falls out of the basket, “shake it off, baby! Plenty more buckets to make!”

“Quarter three is over guys, and my beautiful girlfriend has been burning up the court!” 

“That’s my fucking girlfriend!” You stand throwing up three fingers as Kate drains her second three of the night. “Redemption baby!” 

She points at you as she runs back down the court. 

“Kmart is on fire right now guys!” 

“That’s a fucking foul! Yeah, call that shit! It’s in Let’s fucking go!” You’re on your feet, ignoring the laughs from your coaches at your yelling, you’re saying everything you can’t say when you’re on the bench. 

“My girl is the goat guys. She’s on fucking fire.” 

Kate's eyes find yours, grinning when she sees you standing, clapping for her, a triumphant smile on your face. 

“Drained it!” You watch her make the foul shot, clapping your hands together as you finally sit back down. The jumbotron is split between the two of you, one half showing you’re over the top reaction and the other replaying her basket. 

Caitlin stands in front of you as she checks back into the game. “Let’s go CC,” you can’t see her face, but you can sense her little smirk. 

“Y’all see the bruises on that girl’s arms? Geez, maybe I need to send her some arm guards for real.” Coach Bluder bursts out into laughter at that. 

“Katie’s back on the bench guys, so my commentary will be limited as I will now spend this time admiring her.” Your coaches snort, as they know this is a very common occurrence for you. But you ignore them, eyes finding the tired ones of your girlfriend. 

‘you okay?’ you mouth, looking at her intently. 

She nods, ‘I’m good, love you.’ 

‘I love you too.’ 

Your eyes move back to the court, finding Caitlin’s very tired-looking figure. Her hands are on her knees and you just know she's done for the night. She spends more time in the game than on the bench, and it’s wearing on her. WNBA is way more physical and demanding compared to the NCAA, and Caitlin is getting the short end of the stick. 

You pull out your phone, pulling up her contact. 

‘cinnamon, if i don’t receive photo evidence of you resting over the next few days. i’ll fly to indiana and sit next to your bed while you sleep.’ 

You hit send, knowing she won’t see it until after the game, and that you could tell her in person, but this way she knows you were thinking about it during the game itself. 

“CC is 100% done for the night guys, she’s tired.” You say as you watch her check out of the game and head to the bench. 

“But my girl is back in playing the last few minutes of the game!” 

The quarter moves on and your eyes intently follow Kate as she runs up and down the court. But you’re silent as you observe, too entranced with Kate to remember your mic’d. That is until she’s fouled again.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her knee go at a dangerous angle yet again as she goes for the three. 

“You’re literally kidding!? Yeah, that’s another fucking whistle!” You watch her take a few stumbling steps before regaining her footing. “You got this Katie.” 

“Three foul shots, if she makes just one, guys, she’ll go double digits for this game!” 

“Get in there… YES!” You grin, clapping your hands together as you will the ball to go in. 

“And she hits the second, that’s my fucking girlfriend!” You can hear A’ja laughing at you from the bench and you send her a look, getting a grin back in response. 

“All three! Twelve points tonight for my girl!” 

“And Aces win!” You jump up from your chair as the buzzer sounds. Your arms wrap around Coach Jensen as she stands up as well, both of you laughing with joy for Kate. You pull away, your eyes finding Caitlin on the floor, sending her a smile, asking with your gaze if she's okay. She nods at you, knowing you want to spend the next few minutes with Kate. 

‘See you later?’ you mouth and she nods again. 

“Kate was on fire tonight!” Jan exclaims, “Twelve points is incredible for her!” 

“She was amazing,” you say as you see her heading back from the commentator stand. She jogs over to where you guys are, launching herself into your arms. 

“Hi baby,” she says into your neck, hands around your waist. 

“Hi lovebug,” you tighten your arms around her neck, “you played so well tonight.” 

“Mmm,” she mutters, nose still pressed against your throat. “I need you at all my games now.” 

“Every game this summer till training camp for Iowa, baby.” She pulls back, finally pressing her lips to yours, not a care in the world for whoever is around. 

She pulls back, glancing down at the mic still attached to your shirt. “Alright guys, I hope you had fun listening to my amazing girlfriend’s commentary, but now I want her all to myself.” 

Kate plucks the mic from your shirt, handing it off to one of her coaches before taking your hand and leading you towards the rest of your little ‘party’. 

🂡🂡🂡

After the game, you meet up with Caitlin, pulling her into your arms, knowing how she beats herself up after a loss. She melts into your arms as if you’re sixteen again and living without a care in the world. 

“You played good tonight cinnamon, don’t beat yourself up. You’re drained from your game in LA.” 

“I know,” she mumbles, “it still sucks.” 

You rub her shoulders, sending Kate a reassuring smile at the look of concern on her face. “It’ll get better CC, you just can’t let yourself burn out. You gotta take care of yourself.” 

“I’m trying Tink. It’s hard. But I’m trying.” 

“Call me whenever you get down, okay?” You pull back, looking her in the eyes. “I’m here for you, Katie’s here for you. We want you to be happy and enjoy yourself. So talk to us okay?”

“Okay.” She smiles, a mischievous look crossing her face, and you know what’s coming because you saw her do it to Kate and yelled at her for it. 

“Don’t you fucking dare Clark!” 

“Too late,” she smirks, hand connecting with your ass. You yelp shoving her away. 

“Hey, woah woah, hands off Clark.” Kate pulls you into her arms, making sure you don’t step on her, as she’s not wearing shoes, again. 

Cait puts her hands up, grinning. “Sorry Cap.” Kate makes a face, hand going down to wrap around your waist, keeping you at her side and away from Caitlin’s ass slaps. 

The three of you were back together again, and you knew, somehow everything would be okay.

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 , 𝐉𝐁𝟓

summary , the daughter of lewis hamilton and a 3 time f1 world champion life is pretty great especially now that you have found a special someone

pairing , jude bellingham x fem! hamilton! redbull! f1 driver! reader

main masterlist | football masterlist

yourinstagram . 4hrs ago

seen by lewishamilton judebellingham 76,389,589 others

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton judebellingham 102,890,199 others

yourinstagram winter break photodump pt. 5

view comments

user my wife is a madrid...I don't know what to do with why self now

user stay away from my wifey mr. hey jude lookin ass

user MR BELLINGHAM WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user it couple is cookin ya'll

user love that mother is living her best life

user bae wake up Y/N posted a winter break photo dump

user OKAY BUT THAT LAST PIC EXCUSE ME?!?!?!

user madam who got you those flowers

user jude better be careful or papa hamilton gonna have his head if he even thinks about trying anything with his daughter

user why am I kinda living from the idea of these two being a couple

user are you dating jude?

user Y/N come home the kids miss you

user 4th wdc pending...

user so we all know who the guy in the last slide is right?

user love my soon to be parents

user the queen soft launching wasn't on my 2024 bingo card

view more comments

TRENTSKI

JUDITH

EXPLAIN YOUR SELF

JUDITH

huh?

RICE RICE BABY

did you really think you could sneek your way into Y/N Hamilton's ig dump and we wouldn't find out?

JUDITH

yes?

SANCHOOOO

SO YOU ADMIT IT

IT IS YOU

MEEK MEALS

glad you finally got together

I was getting sick and tired of you talking about her 24/7

JACK RABBIT

I'm surprised he even got the strength to talk to her

STAR BOY

right?

his brain normally turns to mush when ever her name is mentioned

proud of you bro

JUDITH

thx kyo

I always knew you were a real one

TRENTSKI

damn I see how it is then....

RICE RICE BABY

trents going dark lads

in his sad girl era

PHIL CHEESE STAKE

so wait who knows about you 2 being together?

SANCHOOOO

besides the entire intent after that photo dump?

MEEK MEALS

LMFAOOO

STAR BOY

tell lewis he's the goat

JUDITH

hahah funny

let us have our damatic soft launch

obvi you guys know

the only others that know are max, sebastian, and charles

I'll let lewis know when he figures out I'm dating his daughter this Saturday

JACK RABBIT

mate your fucked

TRENTSKI

DAMN

secret forbbiden romance

didn't know you were built like that jude

MEEK MEALS

what do you mean Lewis fucking Hamilton doesn't know you are dating HIS DAUGHTER

SANCHOOOO

pray for jude guys

these might be his last days with us

STAR BOY

he shall be missed

JACK RABBIT

dw jude I'll delete your search history of you stalking Y/N's ig and twitter

JUDITH

thanks guys...

wiss me luck

TRENTSKI

break a leg

RICE RICE BABY

don't die

MEEK MEALS

good luck

SANCHOOOO

you going to die

STAR BOY

what colour coffin do you want?

I'm thinking bright pink and rinestones

JACK RABBIT

do you need a get away driver?

PHIL CHEESE STAKE

before you die get me and ronnie a hat singed by Y/N and Lewis

JUDITH

I feel so loved rn

yourinstagram . 4hrs ago

seen by lewishamilton maxverstappen1 98,328,479 others

lewishamilton replied to your story!

he's a good lad

but if he hurt's you

winning a trohpy will be the last of his concern

okay dad I'll relay that message to him

good

also don't forget to use projection...

DAD OMG STOP

carlossainz55 replied to your story!

¡HALA MADRID!

maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

Christian is asking if Jude wants to come to the team dinner before the livery launch?

also if he hurts you I will run him over with our matching aston martins

landonorris replied to your story!

what does he smell like?

[glitterquadricorn]

spilled tea and hot gossip - f1 grid

+summary: there's nothing she loves more than spilled tea and hot gossip. +pairing: f1 grid x female!driver +warnings: cheating, mentions pregnancy, gossip.

a/n: this is just an idea that popped into my head.

I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

Any drama, gossip, or tea that is spilled on a formula one paddock, you best believe she's going to know about it because she's got eyes and ears everywhere. Like for example, the whole situation with Oscar, Daniel and Mclaren. Or how Fernando signed with Aston Martin and didn't tell anyone much less Alpine. Pierre wonders where, or who she's getting this information from, but she'd never reveal her source for they wish to remain anonymous.

"Thanks so much for helping, y/n. You've made our job a lot easier," Jon, a member of her pit crew, smiled and tapped her shoulder.

"I'm always happy to help!" she said. " Do you guys need anything else? If not, I'm going to head out."

"We should be all good to go. Again, thanks for the help."

"You guys have a good day!" she left out the back of the garage and walked down a relatively empty paddock with the exception of other teams' staff here and there.

She was almost at the entrance when from the corner of her eye; she spotted a man wearing a black and red Haas shirt. Whoever he was talking to she didn't know, and it wasn't her business. But what he told to said person on the phone shocked her.

"I messed up, man. I shouldn't have even slept with her," the man paused, running his hand down his face. "Oh, the girlfriend of a mechanic over at Alpha Tauri. But that's not even the worst part of it. She's pregnant and doesn't know who the father is."

The sound that came out of her mouth wasn't human, and she quickly had to pretend she saw something shocking on her phone because the man looked in her direction. Man, she couldn't wait to tell the boys.

The following day after scanning her id, she strutted down the paddock like a woman on a mission.

Spotting the dutchman, who conveniently was standing with Daniel, Charles and Pierre outside the redbull garage, she excitedly walked right over. "You'll never guess what I heard yesterday."

"Judging by your excitement, I assume it's something juicy." Pierre replied. Just by the excitement alone, he knew that whatever she was about to say was going to be good.

"Yesterday, I stayed back after qualifying to help my pit crew clean up and put things away. When I was done, I left and walked down a relatively empty paddock, but stopped when I overheard somebody from Haas talking on the phone. I don't know who he was talking to, because it's not relevant, but what is, is what he told them."

"Get to the point, y/n."

"I was getting there, Max," she paused. "He told them he slept with a girlfriend of a mechanic over at Alpha Tauri. That alone is pretty juicy, but what he followed it up with had my jaw on the floor. And he followed it up with and she's pregnant and doesn't know who the father is."

Gasps leave their mouth as their jaws drop just like hers did from the day before. Behind Charles, her pr manager, Tracy, waved her over.

"Enjoy the tea, boys." she smirked, patted Charles on the shoulder as she walked away.

---

I know Visa Cash App RB team name isn't Alpha Tauri anymore, but I hate the name Visa Cash App RB with a passion.

tagging:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @patzammit @tinycyber @keenmarvellover @mrspeacem1nusone @lendeluxe @alexxavicry @allenajade-ite @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @wcnorris @bibissparkles @cherry-piee @khaylin27 @evie-119

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Steddie X Plus Size You)

"Don't be so hard on yourself The name of the game is humiliation, And thanks for your admiration. I never thought I'd say this: The way that we play has its confrontation, And guilt by association."

A/N: New version of these beings for me to try out. Thank you @bimbobaggins69 for the idea by just being amazing <3.

This take place 10 years after events in season 4 so about 1996.

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N (whew! That's a mouth full lol), SMUT, spanking, choking, degrading, voyeurism, use of sir, FLUFF, Eddie and Steve have an established relationship. ANGST (because I'm me), reader is plus size and gets name called by the jocks (they call her names like piggy), one of them does assault her (pushes her and yells at her; brief), Steddie saves the day, mentions of reader staring in a play that makes her anxious due to her body.

This whole dynamic is technically angsty (which is why I love it muahaha).

Word Count: 8679

“I fucking hate schools.”, you grumble under your breath as you hit snooze on your alarm for the fifth time that morning. The beginning of your junior year spring semester at Hawkins University started today but the idea of getting out of bed sounded exhausting. In Hawkins, everyone was in everyone else’s business and being the bigger girl some of the jocks felt the need to butt in more than anyone else. 

“Hey Y/N. Did you put on more weight this summer? Those jeans look like they’re about to pop!”

“Should you be eating that, piggy? Maybe try a salad every now and then.”

You thought when you left high school, you wouldn’t have to deal with this crap anymore but unfortunately some of it followed you to college. 

When you finally made it to your first class it was right before it began so you could avoid any unwanted conversation. You weren’t so lucky.

“Heeeeeeey, Y/N.”, football star Martin Click cooed obnoxiously as he leaned towards you from his seat above yours. “I was hoping we’d have some classes together, piggy. I missed you over the summer. You couldn’t bother to dress up for me?”

“Oh, sorry Martin, if I had known we would be sharing a class I would have made myself uglier but unfortunately for me that’s impossible since I’m so fucking sexy. Maybe you can tutor me on how to be a sloppy asshole.”

The breathy laugh that echoed to your ears caught you off guard as you glanced up towards the front of the classroom and met the chocolate eyes of your new Literature & Writing professor. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper as red paints your face.

“No, no. No reason to be sorry. I thought it was a good comeback.”, he grinned making you blush even more. “Mr. Click, should I tell Coach Harrington that you’re more focused on ladies attire than my class or are we going to behave this semester?”

Rolling his eyes, Martin leaned back in his chair making the professor smugly smirk as he winked in your direction. 

“As I’m sure ya’ll are aware, I’m professor Munson and if you’re here because of my reputation then I will kindly ask you to leave. I’m not here to talk about my past or my family history.”

You had heard rumors about Eddie Munson and of course knew all about him being on the run back when you were little. You parents never let you leave the house or play outside for fear that the “satanic Hawkins killer” would snatch you up and make you his next victim. As you grew up and read more about what happened, it seemed less to you like he did anything at all and obviously the chief agreed because Mr. Munson was never tried or did any prison time. 

No, you weren’t interested in his past. You were interested in the things he could teach you. After overhearing one of his lectures, you were fascinated with the way he told a story and explained the material. He got so animated to an adorable degree and as a theater major you thought it would be fun to see how he interpreted literature while getting the final English credit you needed. 

When no one moved he smiled and began talking about usual first day things such as the syllabus and what to expect over the semester. After the class had ended and everyone left, you stayed behind and quietly made your way to his desk. 

“Hey, um, I’m sorry if I was rude or—”

“I didn’t think you were rude. If anything, he was and definitely needed to be put in his place.”, he interrupted without looking your way as he sorted through papers in front of him. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes, sir. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen some of the plays you were in on campus here. I dragged my friend to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you actually got him to pay attention.”, Mr. Munson smiled as he finally lifted his head to look your way. “You were very good.”

“Oh, um, thank you very much. That means a lot coming from you.” He tilts his head at your comment as blush fills your cheeks again. “I just meant I’ve seen some of your lectures before and you’re an amazing storyteller. You excite me, I mean you make me want to pay attention to, I mean… ok, let’s pretend I just left right after class and didn’t just embarrass myself.”

Hugging your books to your chest, you power walk out the door as his chuckle fills your ears. 

***

With a break between periods, you hastily headed for the gym after lunch to change and get out on to the track by the field. Contrary to popular belief, you were fairly athletic despite your size and enjoyed letting off steam as you pumped your legs as fast as they could take you.

As your music blared loudly in your ears, the feeling of eyes watching you grabbed your attention towards the bleachers where Coach Harrington was standing with his arms crossed and leaning to the side as Professor Munson balanced his arm on his shoulder, murmuring something to him as their eyes followed you. 

Trying to block them out, you continued to focus on the path in front of you but was blindsided when a football whizzed past your nose almost hitting you.

“Whoa! Sorry, piggy. Have to keep your eyes open around here.”, Martin laughs as you roll your eyes. 

Glancing their way, you noticed both men were standing straighter as if prepared to defend you if needed. You weren’t a weak little girl and for whatever reason you strongly felt like you needed to show them that. As you pick up the football one of the players lifts his hands running towards you as if expecting you to not be able to throw it but at the last minute you throw a perfect spiral to their coach who doesn’t even hesitate as he lifts his hands and catches it seamlessly from the air. 

“Well, shit, gentlemen. Looks like I have a new passer.”

“Oh, no thank you, Coach Harrington. If I ever played a sport it would be with a team that doesn’t suck.”

Again, Mr. Munson snicked through his teeth as the man he was leaning on flashed you a big grin. 

#############

That night you decided to run after hours, thinking you would be alone but were surprised when you saw Coach Harrington on the track. 

“Shit! Sorry, you scared the hell out of me.”, he nervously chuckled. 

“I’M sorry. I thought no one would be out here.”

“Yeah, normally there aren’t.”, he teased raising an eyebrow at you. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

As he took off continuing to jog, you pushed your headphones on your head and started your run. After a couple of laps with you in your zone, your feet abruptly slipped out from under you as you tumbled forward onto the gravel.

“Whoa!”, Coach Harrington shouted in concern as he ran to your side and kneeled down. “Are you alright?”

“Ow. Yeah, I just…tripped. Fuck that hurt.”

“Let me see.” Without any hesitation, his hand gripped your leg and looked it over. “Oof, you may have a pretty good bruise there but you should be alright.” Rising to his feet, he extended his hand to you to help you up which you eagerly accepted while he gripped you tightly and led you towards the bleachers. “You must have been deep in thought because you passed me a couple of times and didn’t even turn your head.”

“I did? Yeah, I’m sorry. I just have some things on my mind.”

“No, I know what you mean. Eddie—Professor Munson told me what happened in his class. If any of those guys bother you again, please let me know. I’ll make them run laps or even sit them out of a game if I have to. Nothing scares these kids more than not being able to play.”

You knew of Steve Harrington mostly because of his parents. The Harrington’s were prominent members of the community and very well respected. In your high school there had been pictures of him from his days on the basketball and swim team when he was a student. 

After he graduated, other rumors began to circulate about him spending time with the “freaks of Hawkins” but who cares. Not you especially since you had been labeled a freak since elementary. 

“I, um, I hope you didn’t take offense to what I said. Your team doesn’t suck just…some of your players. I mean, not their playing ability just their personalities. FUCK, why can’t I talk today?”

His smile widens as he laughs from his gut making you don your own smile. 

Coach Harrington’s eyes meet yours for a moment before a controlled laugh escapes his lips.

“What, um, what were you listening to so loud that you didn’t hear me yelling for you to slow down?”

Giggling, you gesture towards your Walkman. 

“Just some CD I burned to get me pumped. Right now, it’s playing ‘Master of Puppets’ by Metallica. Have you heard that song?”  

Something dark flashes over his face before he awkwardly nods and gets up leaving you alone on the bleachers as you stare after him. 

***

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, you growl as you push on the girl’s locker room door to find it locked. “What is going on with me this semester?”

Glancing around and seeing no one, you brave the boy’s locker room, finding it open, assuming that in his weird state, maybe, Mr. Harrington forgot to lock up. As quickly as you could you showered and began to change into some comfy clothes. 

The sound of something hitting the wall nearby froze you in fear as you gaze scanned the area. 

No one nearby. It could be the janitor cleaning the coach’s office.

Quietly, you threw your things over your shoulder and tiptoed that way with the intention of ducking under the window of the area so you weren’t seen but the muffled sound of moaning had you pausing again. 

“Mmm…Steve…Steven. Wh-What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s ok. I’m ok. I’m right here, Steve. You saved me.”

Peeking through the window, you saw their forehead’s pressed together as Eddie gently caressed his cheek with his thumbs. A small sigh left your lips when they began to kiss each other again. With a bit of needy force, Steve turned him around and pulled his back flush to his chest. Gently nibbling on his neck, he reached around and unbuckled Eddie’s pants, pushing them down to free his cock that he promptly began stroking. 

Fuck me he’s big. 

You practically drooled at the sight, licking your lips as your palm absently glided under your shirt to rub your tummy.

With his free hand, Steve sloppily yanked down his sweats making you moan as you watched him spit in his palm and rub it between Eddie’s cheeks before gradually guiding himself into his entrance. 

“Fuck, Steve. That’s it, baby.”

Clinging to each other tightly, Steve thrust his hips at a steady rhythm and you marveled at the sight as your fingers drifted into your own sweatpants and you began circling your clit.

“H-Harder, Steve, please.”

“Please.”, you whisper as you try to keep your eyes open and on them. 

“Like this, honey? Fuck you feel so good, Eddie. I love you.”

Arching his back, your professor craned his neck to kiss the man’s lips as he pumped into him as hard as he could without hurting him. 

“I love you to, baby. Shit, I’m going to cum. Cum with me, Steve.”

Nodding aggressively, he chased their highs until both men grunted and came. While they softly kissed each other your body trembled as you covered your mouth, trying to stifle your moans as the coil snapped. It wasn’t enough as both their heads turned meeting your eyes as you were coming down from cloud 9. 

No one moved as the three of you stared each other. 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Steve pulled out as Eddie straightened up, worry painting both their faces. 

“Y/N…”

Before they could do anything else, you turned and quickly ran out of the locker room.

##############

What the fuck was I thinking?! I shouldn’t have watched them. Two teachers in the MALE locker room while I was touching myself. Shit. I’m going to be expelled for sure. 

Sitting on the stage of your theater class, you focused on the script in front of you as you prepared for an audition your professor recommended. Mrs. Lilah always felt constrained by Hawkins when it came to material but this year she quiet literally said fuck them and decided to do Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

As you read through your lines for Magenta, a clearing throat caught your attention. 

“Hey Eddie!”, your theater teacher beamed as she waved at him and he smiled back before jumping onto the stage to sit beside you. He smelled strongly like cigarettes and a dash of cologne that had your head spinning as you continued to keep your eyes on the paper in front of you. 

“Hey Lilah. I hope I’m not disturbing anything. I just need to talk to Y/N here about an assignment real quick.”

“No problem. She does have her audition for Janet in a few minutes and I’m dying to see her interpretation.”

That caught your attention as your head swiveled her way. 

“I’m doing what now?”

“For Janet, honey. I think you’d be perfect. She’s a bit timid at first but comes out of her shell.”

“But…but…she’s in a bra for a good chunk of the play.”

“Yeah…does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Hm, yeah, Y/N, does people seeing your body in the shadows in an intimate way make you uncomfortable?”, Eddie murmured low enough so only you could hear. 

“Let’s just do the audition and if you prove me right, we can talk about the wardrobe, ok?”

Flashing her a timid smile, you turn to give your attention to your professor. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Skipping my class this morning? Oh, you mean when you watched me and my boyfriend have sex in the boy’s locker room?”

“The girl’s one was locked and I needed to shower—”

“That explains why you were in the locker room but not why you were there watching. Are you going to run and tell all your little friends about how you saw the murderous freak fucking the pretty, rich football coach?”

“What? No. I would never—”

“Mhmm. Look how much will it take to keep your mouth shut?”

“Nothing. I don’t—”

“Please, Y/N! Everyone has a price and Steve doesn’t deserve to lose all he’s worked hard for. So, tell me—”

“Will you let me talk!?” Glancing around to make sure no one heard your outburst; you lower your voice as you continue. “I don’t want anything or any money. I won’t tell anyone. I genuinely don’t care about your private lives. I’m really sorry I watched. I shouldn’t have…I just…”

Your professor’s eyes focused intently on you as he waited for you to continue. 

“I was attracted. The way you two kiss and the way he holds you…no one’s ever been that way with me…” When your eyes dared to finally meet his, you expected anger but those gorgeous chocolate irises displayed a softness you appreciated. “I swear, Mr. Munson, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

Nodding, he jumped down from the stage before turning to face you again. 

“I think under the circumstances you can call me Eddie. Not in class but… I also think you should play Janet. You’re a very beautiful young lady. Don’t let any of these superficial idiots take away that lead role from you just because of how you look.”

#############

A couple of weeks had passed and nothing of note happened with school or your classes. You were cast as Janet, allowing Eddie’s advice to drive you as you maneuvered the role. Your professor and Coach Harrington had minimal contact with you but you always felt their eyes following you around. 

Tonight, you were studying in the Hawkins diner off campus. You preferred it here then the library after hours because not only could you munch on some delicious food but no one was usually there that you knew. 

As the bell above the door dinged, you glanced up from the novel Eddie had you guys reading to see said professor and his boyfriend entering the establishment and taking a seat. You couldn’t help but wonder how hard being out like this must be for them. They couldn’t share a booth or be flirty. They couldn’t hold hands or kiss, at least not visibly where people could see. You hated that for them since both seemed like good men. You wondered why they stayed behind here in this terrible little conservative town instead of moving anywhere else. 

Hoping to slip out unnoticed and allow them privacy this time, you gathered your things and placed some money on the table. 

“Is that my favorite piggy?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of Martin’s voice as you try to ignore him and head out the door. A hand abruptly grabs you but you slap it away. 

“Don’t touch me.”, you hiss. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s Saturday and we just left an awesome party. Can’t you and I get along for once?!” His friends around the table behind him snickered as a big devilish smile stretched across his face. 

“If you weren’t such a fucking dick maybe. Now leave me alone.”

As you storm out the front door to your car, something tugs your backpack, ripping it open as all your books and papers tumble to floor. Martin’s hand wraps around your throat and pushes you against the trunk of your car. 

“You will show some fucking respect especially in front of my friends.”

“Aw, did little Martin get his feelings hurt?”, you sass. “Didn’t realize you had any.” 

Your knee rises as you hit him in his stomach but he’s still faster as his palm reaches out to grab your shirt tugging you down hard onto the pavement.

Abruptly, someone grabs his own jacket collar and tosses him roughly away from you as Eddie quickly maneuvers around them both, kneeling to your level. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Can you stand?” Silently nodding, you take the hand he offers to you and rise to your feet. He notices immediately that your blouse is torn and without hesitation shimmies out of his leather jacket and places it around your shoulders. 

“Mr. Click, on Monday, you will see me in my office.”, Coach Harrington growled as he glared at the boy. 

“Oh, fuck you! That fat little whore pushed me into it!”

“HEY!”, he bellowed making you jump as your teacher rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. “I would advise you to stop speaking. You’re already in a lot of trouble.”

“Pfft, you think I’m scared of you, Steve Harrington?! Yeah, my parents told me all about you and the disappointment you became to Hawkins. You’re fucking pathetic! I’m surprised they even hired you to coach us let alone your friend the freak! I guess those satanic rituals DO fucking work.”

The man’s body language stiffened before he did that controlled chuckle you had heard before. 

“Alright, Martin, we can do this right now then. I was only going to suspend you but you know, since I’m so fucking pathetic I think I’ll just go all in. You’re off my team.”

“WHAT?!”

Turning around, he ignored the boy’s continued expletives as he faced you both. 

“Eddie, get her books and all her things. We’ll take her back to our house, if that’s ok with you.”, he asked pointedly in your direction. All you could do was nod and try to bend down to get your thing but the metalhead stopped you before descending to the concrete to collect your things. 

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU’LL REGRET THIS!”

“Take it up with the dean. Until then on Monday, I want your shit out of my locker room or else I will throw it in the garbage. Come on, guys.”

Coach Harrington opened the back seat door for you, startling you when he closed the door a bit too hard. 

***

When they parked outside of a home, neither moved as Eddie’s eyes scanned over his partner’s face.

“You ok, babe?”

His ringed fingers reached out to caress through his hair and in the rearview mirror you could see Steve close his eyes as he exhaled. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get inside.”, he answered curtly as he came around and opened your door and you followed both men inside. You stood in their living room silently as they threw their keys down and Eddie disappeared down a hallway. 

When he came back, he handed you a t-shirt that read “Def Leopard: Tour of 88!”

“Go put this on and we can see about fixing your own.”

His eyes followed you as you entered their bedroom where the bathroom was located and shut the door. Removing your blouse, you could see a slight bruise forming where the strap of your backpack had been on your shoulder and some redness around your neck where Martin had grabbed you. Swallowing your pain at the sight, you put on the shirt they provided and folded his jacket, placing it nicely on the countertop.

Your eyes took in their fairly average bathroom, smirking slightly at the hair gel you imagined was Steve’s as Eddie’s hair was always wild even during class when he pulled it back. Both their colognes and bathroom products were side by side like any couples but the few things you knew about them had each personality standing out. Cigarettes were by the window near the bathtub where you imagined Eddie smoked as they took a bath together. On the floor by the shower, were some handheld barbells you imagined Steve used while Eddie took a shower or got ready so they could talk to each other about their days. 

Walking back out to their bedroom, you noticed a guitar against the wall and grinned at its slightly cheesy 80s aesthetic. You remembered once hearing that Eddie Munson used to be in a band but for the life of you couldn’t remember the name. You wondered if he still played. 

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

What could he have meant by that…

Your gaze shifted to their dresser that had a vanity mirror attached with pictures taped to it. There were so many images of them together that made your smile widen but there were also photos of Steve with a young lady you remember seeing around Hawkins. She used to work at Family Video until a few years ago but you weren’t sure where she moved on to from there. Did you remember Steve there? No… you were pretty young though and focused on your own carefree life. 

There were pictures of Eddie with the Hellfire club. They were still active when you went to Hawkins High filled with a cool group of kids you hung out with from time to time. There were whispers of the man that created it but everyone in the club always said good things about the former Dungeon Master. 

They must have been in two different worlds in high school. 

What must have happened to bring them together?

“Steven, you need to calm down.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice caught your attention after something loud slammed in the kitchen. You tiptoed down their hallway and paused on the other side of the wall. 

“Fucking asshole kid, I swear to God.”

“Baby, it’s not the first time someone has said those things to us and it won’t be the last especially since we chose to stay here.”

“We didn’t exactly choose and that’s not why I’m upset.”

“Why then?”

“She…she seems like a nice girl.”

“She IS a nice girl.” Eddie sighs as he lowers his voice. “Steven, she’s a student and a lot younger than us.”

“Not a lot. Jesus, you make us sound ancient. She’s, what, how old you were when you graduated high school.”

“Hey, ok first off, rude.” They both giggle making you grin. “Second, again, she’s a student. She’s MY student. I could get in way more trouble than you.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

“I swear, sweetheart, don’t we have enough chaos fucking hiding our relationship?”

“Oh, come on, Ed, you don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. I just… yeah, she’s beautiful and adorable and… fuck. We shouldn’t talk about this with her here.”

Collecting your bearings, you walk around the wall and knock on it lightly.

“Hey, there she is. I, uh, I fixed your backpack. Let me, um, see if I can salvage this top for you here.”, Eddie smiles as he takes it from your hands and heads for their couch. 

“I didn’t know you could sew.”

“Mhmm. I can’t like whip up a brand new outfit or anything but I can patch things together.”

“Are you alright? Do you need any Band-Aids or an ice pack?”, Steve asks from his place by the counter. 

“No, I’m ok. My throat is a bit sore but…” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s turning around and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in a rag, and sitting in front of you on their coffee table to place it on your neck. “Thank you. I like being choked but not like that or by that asshole.”

They both glance at each other as you blush. 

“Yeah, probably not a joke to make right now. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”, Eddie says from behind you. 

“Sorry.” They laugh making you grin to yourself as you look down at your feet. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m not…actively…trying to do that.”

“Oh, no worries, honey. Trust me. What is he going to say? ‘Coach Harrington kicked me off the team after I drunkenly assaulted a girl?’ I’m pretty sure the dean will side with me on that one.”

Your silence makes them nervous and they exchange another look. 

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

“I’m thinking about how I never expected Martin to do what he did. He’s been mean to me since freshman year but never aggressive like that.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right, princess?”

“Yeah, I know. I…I…” Unable to control them, the tears began to flow and a ring laced hand delicately reached for your shoulder, moving the things in his lap aside so he could hold you to his chest. Steve placed his own palm on your jeaned thigh and comfortingly rubbed against the material. 

Once again you were engulfed in the scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and cologne as his cheek rested on the top of your head. You couldn’t explain why but you felt safe here with their hands on you encased between them. 

It had been a few months since your last relationship and you could feel yourself dropping into that particular headspace the longer they comforted you. 

“I’m…I’m also thinking…about what I saw that night…in the locker room. How you two took care of each other…”

All movement on your body ceased as they even held their breathes. 

“H-How about we get you home, Y/N? I can give you this shirt after our next class.”

Eddie lightly pushed you to the side as he tried to stand but you hastily grabbed his arm stopping him. 

“I heard you. You said I was beautiful and sweet.”

As your little voice flowed through his ears, his eyes squeezed shut trying to keep control. 

“Y/N, maybe, he’s right. Maybe, we should get you home before—”

“Before what, Steve?” This was the first time you were using his name out loud and the notion sent tingles all through your body feeling like a little girl who misbehaved.

“Hey. You show him respect, little girl. That’s Mr. Harrington or sir.”, Eddie scolded in gruff tone.

“Edward…”

“No, Steven. Little girl wants to play with the grownups, then that’s how we will treat her. Now, we said, you’re going home. Grab your things and head towards the front door.”

“Why did you bring me back here, Mr. Munson? You could have taken me back to my dorm but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because people shouldn’t be seeing a professor drop off a student on campus.”

“But Steve said he was taking me to your house out loud to Martin.”

The man’s hand firmly came down on the side of your thigh making you yelp as you bit your bottom lip. 

“He said show me respect.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.” Placing your hand on top of his, your thumb tenderly ran along his skin as you leaned against Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Like I said…no one has ever taken care of me or looked out for me the way you two do with each other.”

You were slightly surprised when his fingers gently came around and brushed your hair away from your face. 

“We brought you back here because we thought you were safer with us here. After what he did, we thought that’s what you needed.”

“Am I not safe here?”, you whisper as you can’t help but rub your thighs together. 

“Y/N… Eddie and I have been through a lot. What you saw in my office isn’t always how we are when we’re intimate. We’re not always…soft.”

“But I promise you, princess, we are nothing like Martin. If you wanted to leave…right now…that’s ok. We can take you home or call you a cab if that makes you more comfortable.”

He was giving you an out; they both were. You could leave right now and the three of you could pretend this never happened. You could pretend that Steve’s large hand on your upper thigh wasn’t turning you on as you thought about how those long fingers would feel inside of you. You could pretend that Eddie’s touch wasn’t getting progressively slower as the pads of his own fingers traced your cheek making your pussy clench around nothing. You could pretend the notion of doing something you shouldn’t and being at the mercy of these two men’s wills didn’t drive you crazy. You could do that… 

Or…

“I don’t mind it not being soft, Mr. Harrington. I trust you and Mr. Munson.” Both men exchanged on final look of caution before your last sentence pushed caution to the wind. “Please, I need you.”

“I think since you saw us in vulnerable position we should get the same courtesy.”, Steve replied in a much huskier tone than before. Taking your hands in his, he pulled you to your feet and pushed the coffee table out of the way before taking the seat you had just been in. On impulse, Eddie leaned closer to him as the other boy wrapped his arm around his shoulder. 

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

As your eyes shifted between their heavy gazes, you lifted off the shirt he gave you, unbuttoned your pants, and shimmied them a bit clumsily down your legs.

You stood there waiting for more instruction as they continued to stare at your body. 

“Did you see our cocks?”

“Yes.”

Steve smirked as his boyfriend began to kiss his neck while his palm traveled along his chest down his stomach.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember that, Y/N. I don’t like repeating myself and Eddie is a lot nicer than I am in here.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered when the metalhead’s palm grazed the bulge in his jeans. 

“Now, if you saw or cocks, then why are you stopping?”

“You said…I should be vulnerable, sir.”

Your small voice had them groaning as Eddie fumbled with the pretty boy’s belt almost desperately. 

“Fuck. Don’t move.” He commanded towards you as his head turned to capture his boyfriend’s lips. Lifting his hips, he helped Eddie blindly pull his jeans down just enough to free his length. As he started to lean over his lap, Steve hastily stopped him with a smile. “You don’t want to see her, honey?”

He chuckled as he focused his attention back on you. 

“Do you feel vulnerable, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Not enough to not finger yourself out in the open though, huh? I mean at least you had pants on.”

“I-I-I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you weren’t. Take off the rest so we can see you.”

While doing what he said, you watched as Steve pushed down Eddie’s pants as well and both men kissed passionately in front of you as they stroked each other’s cocks. 

“Y/N, is there anything we should know? Anything we should avoid?”

“No, Mr. Munson.”, you answered, appreciating his soft tone as he asked his series of questions. 

“You said you liked being choked but is there anything physical we shouldn’t do?”, Eddie groaned out as Steve lifted off his shirt.

You heard his question but couldn’t form an answer as your eyes starred at the scars that littered his chest. They looked like whatever wound created them was deep, possibly life threatening. What could have happened to him?

“HEY!”, he barked making you jump. “He said he’s not as nice as me but that doesn’t mean I’m easy going! Now, answer the fucking question, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. N-No, I don’t mind being hit or p-punished. Mr. Munson, what happened?”

As you started to step forward, both sets of brown eyes glared your way freezing you in place.

“Do you know the stop light system?”, Steve growled in a much rougher tone than you were prepared for. Nodding curtly after reciting it to them, he got up and grabbed your arm, sitting you between them. “Now, we do have some rules, Y/N. The first rule is the most important. DON’T ask about our scars.”

“Our?”

Steve slowly lifted off his own shirt and tossed it to the side. He didn’t have as many scars as Eddie but they were just as deep and looked similar. Whatever happened must have happened to both of them. 

“I’m so sorry you both went through…whatever hurt you.”, you coo as you reach out to graze your fingers down Eddie’s chest. 

The darkness in their eyes faltered slightly at your sincerity and the metalhead took your hand in his, tenderly kissing the back of it. 

“Second rule. You have to be vocal, Y/N. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, we need you to say red ok?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson. “

“Good. Good girl.”

His praise made you giddy as you blush making him smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I have one more question, princess. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yeah, we’re going to need you to clarify that.”, Steve laughs. 

“I’ve done rough stuff with dominate partners before. I’ve never been with two men before.”

The way you said the word men had Eddie’s eyebrow quirking upward. 

“Are you trying to tell us you’ve only been with boys your age?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you feel the need to tell us that?”

“Do we make you nervous?”, Steve asks as his fingers dance up your arm. 

“Yes b-but not because of you two, Mr. Harrington. I just wanted you to know j-just in case I’m not as ‘experienced’ as you both.”

Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks as he brought your lips to his. You weren’t surprised by the nicotine that lingered there but you were by the tingle that ran through your body as his tongue caressed your own. When he pulled away you tried to lean forward for more but his grip held firm. 

“We weren’t expecting you to be, pretty girl. You’ve only ever been with these little boys but you’re about to be fucked by real men, sweetheart. Trust us, we know how to take care of you.”

You moaned at his promise, turning towards Steve to crash your lips with his. He was a much more determined kisser, his mouth and tongue sending that same shock wave through to your core. 

“Have you ever sucked a cock as big as mine?”, he panted against your lips.

As you shake your head, his fingers grab your throat just below your jaw as if purposely avoiding where Martin had hurt you. 

“What did I say? How do you answer us?”

“I’m sorry. No, sir, I’ve never sucked a dick as big as either of you.”

Sitting back, his palm moved to the back of your neck, guiding you down over his leaking tip as Eddie adjusted your body till you were on all fours for them. 

“Fuck me, Steve. She is so fucking wet. Her pussy is just tripping down her thighs.”

“Aw, you like being a bad girl, don’t you, honey?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Harrington. I like being a bad girl.”

“Open your mouth.” Doing as he directed, you quickly kissed his slit making him mewl before fully taking him between your awaiting lips. “Yes, oh my god. T-That’s a good girl.”

Eddie’s fingers glided through your folds causing your eyes to roll as you bobbed your head.

“Steve, baby, Jesus, she’s so fucking tight.”, the metalhead groaned as his palm came down hard on your ass. 

“Yeah, Y/N? Did that feel good? You like when your professor spanks you?”

Yanking your hair roughly he tugs you off of him as you continue to stroke him with your hand. 

“I didn’t hear that, little girl. What did you say?”

“Y-Yes, sir, I like when Mr. Munson spanks me.” 

At your response he spanks you again right as he guides two of his digits into your core. Gripping you tighter, Steve forces your mouth on him again and holds you still as he thrusts his hips allowing his cock to hit the back of your throat. 

“Good girl. That’s it, Y/N. Keep your throat open for me.”

Abruptly, Eddie swats his boyfriend’s hand and tugs on your shoulder, guiding you down the hallway to their bedroom and tossing you onto their bed. After completely removing the rest of his clothes, he climbs between your legs and runs his wide, flat tongue through your pussy up to your clit. 

“Oh shit.”, you moan as your back arches into the feeling before yelping when his palm smacks your cunt. 

“Watch your mouth, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckles as he climbs in beside you both placing his knees by your head as his fingers grip your hair again. 

“Can’t really blame her. I know how amazing your tongue feels. Then again, you may have some competition, babe, because her fucking mouth feels so good.”

Pride washes over you at his praise as you grip his cock and take him as far back as you can trying to continue to please him. 

“I-It’s ok, honey. We can train this little throat. As—fuck—as you know, Eddie’s a wonderful teacher.” His boyfriend tosses him a smirk as his tongue flicks faster against your bud. “Are you going to cum? Cum, Y/N. Cum all over his face.”

Your hips grinded against him as the man’s mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves and he pushed two of his fingers rapidly inside of you as the sound of your arousal to fill the room. 

Steve backed away from you, allowing you to focus and breathe as your orgasm washed over you. As you came down from your high, Eddie lightly slapped between your legs making you jump and groan. 

“Sensitive. I like that.”

Tilting towards their bedside table, he paused as their eyes met. 

“Shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

“What?”, Steve almost wined as you tried to contain your smile at their desperate need for you.

“Steve, we’ve been together for almost 10 years. When was the last time we used a fucking condom?”, Eddie growled. 

“We’ve been talking about adding someone to our dynamic for a while now.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t prepared for it to be tonight with a fucking student!”

“Excuse me.”, you finally pipe up. “I’m on the pill. I can understand if you still don’t want to but…I’m safe. And like I said, I trust you.”

Both men exchange a glance and you can’t help but giggle up at them. 

“So how long were you going to wait before you said anything, huh?”

“Mr. Munson, you didn’t ask. I wanted to be a good girl and only speak when spoken to.”

They narrow their eyes playfully at you for a moment before Eddie grabs your jaw and tilts you till your face is level with his. 

“You’re not cute, little girl. That little snarky attitude may have worked on those pathetic boys you were with but you’re in the bed of real men now. Don’t hide things from us you think we should know. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m—”

Steve’s hand cuts you off as he pushes you back against the mattress. 

“We know. You’re sorry.”

Taking hold of his shaft, Eddie taps himself against your pussy making you squirm as you open your legs wider for him. Grabbing your hips, he slides you closer and gradually guides himself into your dripping entrance.

“Fuuuuuck.”, he moaned as he slowly pumped his hips. “We are going to fucking ruin you for anyone else, little girl. Goddamn.”

“How does she feel, baby?”, Steve asks as he leaned towards him to lightly kiss his neck.

“S-So fucking tight, sweetheart, you have no idea. I want…”

“What do you want, Ed?”

“I wanna…fuck her into the fucking mattress.”

Your pussy fluttered around him at his words and his eyes that been closed shot open as he placed his palms on either side of you and started thrusting into you aggressively.

“You want that, you little whore. I can give that to you.”

Much softer than his partner, Steve turned your head and slide his cock back into your mouth that you eagerly sucked on relishing the taste of him. As he pounded into you, Eddie’s lips kissed along his boyfriend’s chest making the man groan louder as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

Bringing his lips to his own they passionately exchanged a kiss that had you mewling as the long-haired man rolled his hips hard hitting that soft spot inside you repeatedly. 

Eddie’s head tilted back as his jaw went slack and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to run your nails down your chest. 

“I’m…I’m…please…”

Steve moved back as the metalhead grabbed your wrists and held them against the bed as his face fell beside your own. 

“You fucking ask me, Y/N. You beg us to let you cum. Shit. We have control in here.”, he whispers in your ear making your shudder underneath him. 

“P-Please, Mr. Munson. Can I cum? I want to cum on your cock, please.”

His hair tickles your face as he nods and the action of him tenderly kissing your cheek pushes you over the edge as the coil snaps. 

“Fuck, that’s it, pretty girl. Came so fucking hard on my dick. I’m going to fill you up, princess, ok?”

“Please…”, you whimper as he slams into you, chasing his high.

Your professor’s grunts filled your ear and you turned your head into the sound as he warmed your insides. As soon as he rolled off you, a hand took hold of your ankle and yanked you to the edge the bed. 

“Hey, hey, honey. No, no.”, Steve cooed with a hint of sarcasm as he lightly slapped your cheek. “Open your eyes, baby. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Green.”

His massive palm slapped you a bit harder causing your eyes to fully open as you leaned up on your elbows. 

“Green, what?”

“Green, SIR!”

You’re suddenly turned on to your stomach as rough hands lift your ass in the air while another set takes hold of your wrists and pulls your top half down and forward. 

“Get rid of the attitude, Y/N. You think just because you came you’re allowed to be disrespectful?”, Eddie growls as Steve spanks your behind. “Now, answer him clearly without the tone.”

“Green, Mr. Harrington.”

As he ran his tip through your folds, you knew even after taking his partner, he was going to split you in half. 

“Fuck me.”, Steve moaned as he began pushing himself into you. 

Eddie’s head tilted to the side as he watched your face scrunch together. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Trust me, I know how hard he can be to take at first but it will feel good soon. I promise, baby.”, he soothed and kissed your lips. 

“F-Feels…feels good…now. Fuck.”

The man behind you smacks your ass at the curse, pressing further into your cunt till his hips finally connected with yours. 

“Still green, babe?”

“Yeeeees, sir.”

“Good.” Clinging to your waist, Steve pulled back till he was almost all the way out of pussy before roughly slamming back into you practically punching the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god!”

With a slanted smile, he pounded into you as Eddie watched from the side, sitting up on his knees to occasionally run his fingers down the man’s chest. 

“She feels really fucking good, right? Our young, new little toy.”

“Goddamn, I’m gonna fucking bust like a teenager.”

“Wait, pretty boy. You need to feel her cum. Her pussy fucking chokes your dick, I swear.”

“Fuck, Y/N, are you close, little girl?” When you didn’t answer, his hand reached around to grab you throat and lift your back to his chest. “Still coherent, you little slut? I asked you a question.”

“H-Harder, Mr. Harrington, please.”

As his forehead landed on your shoulder, he did what you asked till the bed began to jostle underneath you. A jolt of electricity shot through your body and you mewled as Eddie rubbed circles into your clit. 

You took their conversation as approval and your arm circle around Steve’s neck as you came. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!”, he grunted as he took hold of your chin and turned you so his lips could mingle with yours as he pumped into you a few more times before releasing his seed inside you. 

You were completely drained and slightly sore as he tried to delicately pullout of you while you waited for what to do next. Usually, the boys you were with did the minimal amount of aftercare, choosing to just cuddle with you which was fine. You were surprised, however, when Eddie informed you the bath was ready when you were. 

“For me?”

“Yeah, princess, come on. It will soothe your muscles.”, he murmured softly as he took your forearm and slowly walked you to the bathtub and guided you in. Your head remained lowered as you listened to him maneuver around the bathroom, sliding on some boxers before lighting a cigarette and placing himself on his knees beside you. 

Utilizing the washcloth, he cleaned you pausing when your hand suddenly grabbed his wrist as he attempted to clean between your legs. 

“I’m sorry. Just sore.”, you whispered as you let him go. 

Eddie’s eyes scanned you over and you heard him blow out some smoke from his lips as he put the cigarette down in a nearby ashtray. His fingers moved some of your hair back and he pressed his nose into your cheek while he continued to clean you. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re still doing really good for me. I know your little pussy hurts from how we stretched her open but we got you, pretty girl. You took us both so well.”

As his deep, comforting tone continued to whisper praises, you keened into the sound as you winced, trying not to grab him again.

“I know, I know. I’m almost done.”

Tilting your head, your lips found his, both of you getting lost in the feeling as he dropped the rag from his hand so he could cup your face and hold you closer. A throat clearing distracted you two as Steve entered the bathroom. 

“I, uh, I have some clothes for you here, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Nodding, you allow Eddie to help you out and lead you in front of his partner who took a seat on the edge of the bed. His honey irises ran along your body, checking for extra care you may need that they inflicted but unlike your assault earlier the only mark they left was the slight reddening of their handprints on your behind. 

“How’s your throat? I tried not to grab you where—”

Your kisses startled him at first but after a few seconds his hand slithered tenderly behind your neck as he kissed you back. 

“I’m ok. Just sore…and tired.”, you reiterate as your heavy eye lids dropped. 

“Ok, honey.” Steve’s hands held you steady while Eddie dressed you in what smelled like their clothes as you swayed in his grasp. “You did so good for us. You deserve some sleep. Would you like me to carry you to the guest bedro—”

Both men watched with amusement as your shook your head before climbing over him and crawling under their covers. 

“I guess we can sleep in the—”

“Please don’t leave.”, you begged in a little girl voice that pierced their hearts. 

“Why does she keep interrupting me?”, Steve chuckles as he gets to his feet and yanks Eddie into his arms to kiss his lips. “She doesn’t do that with you. Or does she in class?”

At the word the metalhead became silent as he kissed his partner’s shoulder and crawled into the bed in front of you. His palm softly caressed your face and through your hair as Steve got in bed behind you.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am and not just because she’s a student. That’s just the frosting on top of the cake that is our problem.”

“That sounds delicious.”

“Steven.”, Eddie scolds as they both smile. “She’s so much younger than we are.”

“10 years. Not much.”

“Not to mention the fact, that we are already hiding OUR relationship let alone another with a young, student. She deserves to be taken on dates and to live her life. She deserves to be seen not hidden.”

“So do you, honey.”

“Steve… we decided a long time ago to stay in Hawkins for a reason. We can’t be run out of town by these homophobic small, minded idiots. They’ve just barely started calming down when it comes to me and what happened in 86. And that’s another thing. What if…what if something happens? What if Vecna comes back or any other fucking monster? We can’t drag her into that.”

“Eddie, you’re over thinking again, but I see where you are coming from. Let’s…let’s take it one day at a time, ok? Who knows. She may wake up and decide this is all too much herself. She may not want to be with some…old, broken-down college professors slash coach.”

“Oh my god, baby.”, the long-haired boy chuckles as he throws his arm over his eyes. “You’re not broke down. We just have some wear and tear.”

Your palm reaching out and pulling Eddie closer as you fully folded into Steve silenced them. They relaxed into you as your professor kissed your forehead and your school’s coached nuzzled into your shoulder as they drifted off to sleep with you. 

##############

@corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ miss diaz (fa14)

with fernando's new appreciation of tik tok, fans begin to wonder where he's getting the ideas from, until he ends up racing alongside his previously unknown daughter... who is already a driver, and in her twenties.

warnings/notes: fernando my dad fr, this is the silliest little fic i loved making it?? I have never written this man and i regret it hes so silly, quite short and sweet, i might make this a verse? idk. i have too many series' rn, but if people like it ...

faceclaim: none :D!

"Ay, papá, ¡no! [You're gonna get yourself hurt!]"

The Alonso house was never quiet. This was something your mother had come to realize long ago. But now she was concerned. What the hell could you and Fernando be doing that would lead to him getting hurt? Despite your insistence of being well mannered and quiet, your mother knew you could tend to get up to the same level of quirkiness as your father.

It didn't help you were smashing records in Formula 1 Academy, racing alongside women like Lia Block and the Al Qubaisi sisters, all while hiding your identity.

Someone had bashed it into you at twelve you'd only be known as Little Alonso if you continued racing under your fathers name, hence why you had insisted you dropped Alonso and continued with Diaz.

Which you did... after six months of convincing your father.

Who is currently shouting, "I'll be fine, ¡bebita!"

"You have old bones!" Is your remark as your mother gets up from where she's tending to the online store she runs for her business. Sort of like a branch out of her Etsy store. She made really nice custom embroidery on top of her working for a media company that outsourced and trained employees for PR teams.

"I'm not that old!" Fernando's shout makes her laugh into her hand as she steps into the kitchen to see you've got a whole plethora of items out and around you.

"What are you two doing..?" She hums, leaning on the doorframe and watching as both you and Fernando turn to her like deer in headlights.

And then you smile, "Papá wants to make a Tik Tok."

Verónica laughs, watching as her husband attempts to tape his phone to the ceiling fan and she puts her hands up and walks out of the room with a quick sentence over her shoulder, "[I'm not explaining this to Aston Martin!]"

fernandoalonso

liked by missdiaz, astonmartinf1, veronicadiaz, and 683k others...

fernandoalonso: race weekend monaco edition 💚

user1: whos teenage daughter ghost wrote this caption?? how old is ur social media admin nando.

veronicadiaz: mi vida <3

⤷ fernandoalonso: mi corazón <3

⤷ user2: PARENNNTSSS

user3: i love my grid dad fr

missdiaz: youngest rookie on the grid!!

⤷ fernandoalonso: rookie of the year!

⤷ user4: yn and nando interaction. my heart is FULL!!

missdiaz

liked by astonmartinf1, f1academy, fernandoalonso, and 348k others...

missdiaz: monaco pit stop <3

astonmartinf1: thats our favorite academy driver!!

⤷ missdiaz: love u am xx

user1: mother is mothering fr

fernandoalonso: rookie of the year!!

⤷ missdiaz: youngest rookie on the grid!!

⤷ user2: nando become her grid dad pls i beg

user3: shut up shes in monaco.

user4: SO PRETTYYY

You read the headline for a third time, 'F1 Academy driver Y/N Diaz to replace ill Lance Stroll for the Monaco GP.'

There's a happy buzz in the Aston Martin garage, even with Lance being terribly ill this weekend. He'd still shown up in full support of his team, but was too woozy to actually get in the car. Too much of a risk. So, Aston Martin had called on you, and you were genuinely excited to race. So your father escorts you into the garage with a tiny proud smile, and all of Aston Martin knows who you actually are.

But media does not. Neither do some of the other drivers.

Hence how you end up talking with Lando during a press event, and when he gives you a soft smile and edges around asking your age, you have to poke your father's thigh to keep him from commenting on it. Lando has no idea he's blatantly flirting with you in front of your dad, but across from him Lewis is trying not to burst into laughter.

"I feel like I'm missing something." Lando says when the reporter comments on the eyes you, Lewis, and Fernando are giving each other. You look at Fernando and he nods,

"Yeah go for it, hermosa." Fernando taps your knee and you smirk, leaning on your fathers shoulder as you say,

"So my full name is Y/N Diaz Alonso, but I go by Diaz because y'know, my dad's got a pretty good legacy--"

"You're his daughter?!" Lando shouts and the audience starts screaming. Lewis is in practical tears with how hard he's laughing and Fernando's laughing as well. Lando curses, "Shit, man!"

"No hard feelings, man." Fernando reaches over to pats Lando's shoulder, who looks like he'd rather sink into the floor and die than be seen right now. Lewis is literally in tears.

"The fact Nando managed to keep this a secret for so long is unsurprising to me," Lewis says, "I mean, I knew because she was young when I first got to F1 and a lot of the older drivers know--plus Max, I think, because of the Piquets."

"Funnily enough," You giggle into the back of your hand, "Mark Webber's my godfather."

"Really?!" The reporters eyes widen and you nod.

"He's a bad influence, truly. Him and Jenson, oh and Seb, they were teaching me curse words at like four years old." You grin and Fernando laughs, now happily laying his arm across your shoulder to tug you to his side.

"And honestly, she's just like me at her age, so the boys on the track might wanna watch out." Fernando sends a pointed glance to Lando that has you whacking your fathers chest with a giggle.

"I'm more like him in the sense of goofy Renault celebrations Fernando, not like "I knew he'd brake because he has a wife and kids at home" Fernando." You clarify, but a knowing glance from Lewis has you shrugging while your father sits in smug confidence that his daughter will be fine.

And you would be. You were closer to the comments than the celebrations in actuality. Though, you'd never admit that.

[sebscore]

gen-z driver chaotically taking over martin’s grid walk? thank you!!

KEEPING UP WITH THE GRID

pairings: f1 team principals, drivers and ex-driver x driver!reader (im too lazy to name everyone im sorry)

warnings: swearing. christian horner. mention of a nipple tweak.

author's note: anon, you are a legend for requesting this! I'm not too proud of the writing, since I wrote this in the middle of the night and my brain doesn't function normally then. but i hope you like it anyway, darling! let me know your thoughts!!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

Y/N was mindlessly scrolling through her phone when a sudden loud voice interrupted her peaceful time. ''How are we feeling about today, Y/N?'' Martin bent his knees, so he could hold the mic up to her face as she sat on the ground. 

''Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me.'' She cursed, quickly covering her mouth as she knows she isn't supposed to swear on Sky Sports. ''Uh, I'm feeling pretty good about it, I'm starting on the second row, so not too bad.'' The driver answered his question, smiling sheepishly. 

''You like having alone time before a race?'' He continued, a grin on his face. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''I just happen to be alone right now, sometimes I'm chatting with my team or with some of the other drivers.'' 

''Martin, you look a bit tired, you want to sit down?'' She patted the space next to her, feeling bad that he was crouching down while she comfortably sat on the grass. 

The former F1 driver held a look of surprise on his face. ''In all my years I've been doing this, no one has ever offered me to sit down.'' He gave the camera a glance before slowly letting himself sink to the ground. 

''You know, people always wonder 'Where is Martin?' But no one ever wonders 'How is Martin?' We need to take better care of you.'' The man seemed clueless about what she was saying, but he was amused either way. 

''I'm alright, all that walking takes a lot of energy.'' He responded, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. 

Y/N chuckled. ''Yeah, I mean, you've been doing this longer than I've been alive, so I understand that you're tired from all the walking.'' She never let the oppurtunity slip to make him aware of their age gap. 

''Well, let's not talk age,'' he sighed, making her laugh, ''anyway, I think I might just hang around here for the entire segment.'' Martin concluded. 

An idea popped into her head as she heard his words. ''Can I do it? I've always wanted to do it.'' 

Martin was surprised for a second time since joining the young woman. ''You mean I let you go around the grid and talk to people?'' 

She nodded. ''Yes, I love bothering people with my presence.'' Y/N said, matter-of-factly. 

The Brit looked at his cameraman, who adamantly nodded his head to the idea of letting the driver do her thing around the grid. 

Martin let out a deep breath, but handed his mic and headset over. ''Just don't get me fired,'' he said, trying to sound stern, ''and don't curse!'' He quickly added. 

''I won't, I promise! I'll see you later!'' She got up from the ground and put the headset on, slightly altering it so it fit her head perfectly. ''Alright, let's make some controversy.'' Y/N exclaimed, pulling the cameraman along. 

She glanced around the grid, trying to find some interesting people to talk to. ''So, I just need to find a person and ask them questions about whatever I want?'' The athlete asked the cameraman, who simply nodded his head, making the camera shake as well.

''Oh, I love this program!'' She giggled into the microphone, doing a small jump out of happiness. 

Y/N observed the grid, knowing her first ''guest'' needed to be a good one. ''Okay, I've found someone!'' She let the cameraman know, pointing in the direction she wanted to go. 

''Alright,'' she tapped the person's shoulder, having them turn to the camera in confusion, ''the first guest on Y/N's grid walk is the team principal of Mercedes… Petronas… Benz…,'' she tried remembering the full team name, ''Whatever, his name is Susie's husband! Welcome, Susie's husband.'' She introduced Toto. 

The Austrian man was incredibly entertained by the young woman's antics. ''Hello, Y/N.'' 

''I have to ask you- how does it feel to be married to the greatest woman alive?'' She asked him, glancing around to find the woman in question. 

Toto laughed at the question, but proceeded. ''It's great, Susie is an amazing person who has done countless amazing projects and campaigns- I'm a very lucky man.'' The sincere smile on Toto's face when talking about his wife brought a smile to Y/N's face. 

''That's so cute- where is she? I only came over here, because I thought she would be here.'' 

''Unfortunately, she's not here today,'' he told her in a sad tone, ''I know that upsets you, Y/N.'' The driver's girl crush on Susie had been an obvious thing for many years, amusing everyone involved. 

Y/N pouted at his words. ''Well, yeah… that upsets me a lot actuall-''

''What is going on here?'' A British accent interrupted her interview with the team principal. 

''Go away, Russell George! I don't want you on my show.'' Y/N teasingly dismissed George, slapping his arm to get him out of frame. 

The Mercedes driver feigned offense, placing his hand on his heart. ''Why not? I thought we were great friends, Y/L.'' 

''Crikey, crikey, crikey! Don't you have shirtless pictures to post somewhere? Bye bye!'' She quickly got away from the Mercedes team, practically running at one point. 

Y/N let out a big sigh into the mic. ''Martin was right, this is tiring,'' she momentarily stopped in her steps, her hand on her waist, ''OH! Look! It's Charles Lechair!'' Her tiredness from a few seconds before was long forgotten as she strided over to her Monégasque friend. 

''Charles, hello, Charles!'' She put her hand on his back, guiding him to the camera. ''How are you feeling about the race today? What are the strategies? Do they know that word at Ferrari?'' She teased the red team. 

''Uh, we're feeling optimistic today and yeah, I'm ready to give it my all.'' He smiled, putting up his tv-friendly facade, not wanting to trash talk his team on television. 

Y/N raised her eyebrow. ''You're so cute being all positive! Keep that attitude, Perceval!'' She patted his shoulder. ''Thanks for talking to me and good luck!'' She bid him goodbye. 

The young driver walked in all sorts of directions. There were many people present on the grid, yet Y/N had quite a hard time finding people to talk to. It was when she walked by the Red Bull team that she found her next victim. 

''Christian! Christian Horner, hello, welcome!'' She and the team principal didn't have the best history, but she knew the viewers would enjoy the interaction as they knew said history. 

''Everyone, I'm joined here today by Red Bull, uh, Orange, Racing or whatever, F1 Team's team principal, Christian Horner.'' She butchered the team name again, although it was one purpose this time. 

She turned towards the man. ''Christian, I won't hold you up too long, but there is one question that our viewers have been dying to ask you and I think this is the right time to finally do it.'' Y/N build the question up. 

''Yes?'' He seemed a bit nervous, attentively listening to her words. 

''Can you say one nice thing about Y/N Y/L?'' 

The Brit visibly looked relieved at the question, thinking it would be something controversial. ''Of course, she's, uh, a very talented race car driver.'' He nervously smiled at her. 

''You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen, Christian Horner thinks Y/N Y/L is the most talented driver in the history of Formula One!'' She overdramatized his response. 

''You know what they say, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies even closer.'' She patted Christian's shoulder. ''Thanks for the talk, good luck and I hope you don't win.'' Y/N told him before walking off, hearing him laugh behind her. 

''So far, I've talked to Toto Wolff and Christian Horner,'' she said to the camera, ''enemies to, uh, even worser enemies, I guess.'' 

''Guys, we're here with Yuki's boyfriend, Pierre Gasly.'' Y/N stood next to the Alpha Tauri driver, shoving the microphone in his face. He took his airpods out of his ears, already chuckling at the girl's actions. 

''How are you doing?'' 

''I'm-''

''That's all the time we have for you, I'm sorry.'' She didn't let him finish his words and walked away from him, quickly giving him a smile so he knew she was entirely joking. 

She stepped further onto the grid, continuing to look for people. ''A bunch of green outfits, not very fashionable- oh, it's Aston Martin! Let's find Sebastian!'' Y/N mixed herself with the Aston Martin team, trying to catch the German driver. 

''Seb! Seb! Can I ask you a few questions?'' She eventually reached the man, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. 

His signature bright smile covered his face. ''Yeah, but where's Martin?'' 

''Me and Martin made an agreement, I get to do the grid walk and he gets to drive my car later- although, he never won any races, so that might not have been a great decision on my part.'' She told Sebastian, who seemed confused and fascinated at the same time. 

''Well, I think you're doing a great job as reporter.'' He deflected her words, not wanting to get in trouble by saying anything about Brundle's lack of GP wins. 

She smiled. ''Thanks, anyway… I know qualifying didn't go too well for you, but are you optimistic about the race?'' 

''Yeah, quali wasn't what we were hoping for,'' he sighed, ''It's gonna be difficult today, but we're gonna try our best to get as much points as we can for the championship.'' Sebastian finished his answer with an encouraging nod. 

''That's great to hear! You've been- oh my god, is that your dad?'' Y/N had glanced away from Sebastian's face for one second and saw Norbert watching them, waving at her once he noticed her looking at him. ''Okay, bye Sebastian! I'm gonna talk to your dad now.'' 

She walked past the Aston Martin driver to approach his father. ''Can I ask you some questions? I swear it's very short.'' She didn't want to burden him for too long. 

Norbert gave her a thumbs up, not minding being interviewed for a short time by her. ''It's okay.'' 

''Amazing! I mean, you're a legend of the paddock, Norbert! The drivers love you, the fans love you, everyone just loves you! Do you feel the love every time you attend a GP?''

Y/N had a good relationship with him as he and Sebastian would sometimes attend her karting tournaments together. Norbert had given her parents advice on how to support the young girl as best as possible. In a nutshell, the Vettel family were some of the greatest people she had ever met. 

''I do feel it, it's a great feeling and everyone is so nice to me.'' He wasn't very confident in his English, so he kept it short. 

Y/N smiled at him, delighted she got the chance to talk to him. ''You're always super sweet to everyone, so it's only right that we reciprocate your kindness,'' she nodded, ''okay, last question! Apart from Seb, who is the driver you're rooting for today? Is it someone you know very well? Or someone who is standing next to you and is asking you amazing questions?'' She played with a strand of her hair, pretending like she wasn't talking about herself. 

He laughed at her words. ''I'm supporting you, of course!'' He exclaimed, his arm going around her shoulder. 

''Oh! You're the best, Norbert! You're my favorite Vettel for a reason!'' Y/N said extra loud, knowing Sebastian would hear it that way. 

''I'll leave you alone now, thank you so much and I'll see you after the race.'' She gave him a brief hug and he wished her good luck, which she thanked him for. 

The cameraman had difficulties keeping up with her, used to the slower pace of Martin. Y/N noticed this and slowed down, sending him an apologetic look. ''Alright, I've talked to Seb, so I feel obligated to talk to Lewis now.'' She commented, trying to look for the 7x World Champion. 

''Where is he? He shouldn't be this hard to find…'' The athlete always saw the Mercedes driver hanging around the grid, chatting with his celebrity friends or getting ready with Angela. 

Y/N frowned. ''I should lore him or something…,'' she thought for a moment, ''vegan food, I have vegan food! Uh, free skydiving session! Oh my god, is that Roscoe on the track?'' She tried making him appear, but the only thing she got was weird looks from bypassers. 

However, a certain blond man caught her attention instead. ''Okay, I can't find Lewis, but this person knows him very well… or used to at least.'' 

''Britney Spears! Can I interview you for the highly respected tv-show, Y/N's grid walk?'' She snuck up to the former Mercedes driver, catching him off guard, but he played it off. ''Sure, I'm very honored.'' His monotone voice almost made her cringe. 

''First question: is it alright if I call you Britney? I don't know how you feel about the nickname.'' 

Nico chuckled at her. ''You can call me that, Y/N.'' 

''Ooooh~ I'm getting special privileges! I like it!'' She was impressed by Nico's answer, not being sure if he would go along with her humor. 

''Next question! How does it feel to be a Monaco based Youtuber? Do you enjoy the influencer life?'' 

The former World Champion snickered at her question, not expecting her to bring up his Youtube channel. ''It feels great, I'm, uh, yeah, enjoying the influencer life.'' She could tell Nico was doing his best to come off as positive as possible. 

''Nice, good for you, dude! Anyway, this was Britney, the man who beat the 7x World Champion, Lewis Hamilton, in equal machinery in 2016!'' She quoted the meme that was often made online when people talked about Rosberg. 

Y/N didn't wait for Nico's reaction, a bit too scared if she was honest, and made a run for it again. ''I've talked to three German guys- wait, is Nico German? He said once that he doesn't drink beer, so I don't know if he's considered German.'' She rambled on, not even listening to the words that were leaving her own mouth. 

''There's Jenson.'' She caught the Brit talking to his Sky Sports colleagues. ''You know what? I've embarrassed myself enough already, I'm not making it any worse.'' Y/N went in another direction so as to not cross paths with him. 

''Too bad he doesn't drive anymore, I would have loved to give him a lucky nipple tweak.'' Martin and Jenson used to have this running gag of the older man giving him a nipple tweak for good luck before a race. 

Y/N didn't see where she was going and almost tripped over someone's foot. ''Oh, shit!'' She loudly exclaimed, balancing herself so she wouldn't fall. ''Oh, fuck I can't swear- wait, shit! Ugh!'' She pulled the microphone away from her face, that way her curses wouldn't be picked up. 

''This isn't live, right? Cause then I'm in trouble, I think.'' She glanced at the cameraman, who mumbled a small ''It is live.'' 

''THIS IS LIVE?'' Y/N gasped, looking absolutely horrified at the thought of thousands of people watching her at that moment. ''Let's find Martin then, I think I've done enough damage.'' 

She headed back to the place where the presenter had approached her. ''Martin! Where is Martin?'' The driver glimpsed around, but no Martin in sight. ''I have oatmeal!'' She yelled, before making eye contact with the camera. ''Old people love oatmeal, right?'' He simply chuckled, not wanting to shake the camera too much with his laughing. 

''Oh, there he is!'' Y/N spotted the man and made her way over to him as fast as she could. ''I definitely didn't say anything controversial or cursed throughout the entire thing.'' She greeted him. 

Martin looked relieved as she handed his microphone and headset back over to him. ''I was out of my element for a while,'' he joked, ''did you have fun, darling?'' 

Y/N nodded her head. ''Yes, I'm even considering changing career paths.'' She chuckled. 

''That's great,'' Martin smiled, confident she made some amazing television, ''well, I think you're gonna have to go, cause I can see your, uh, coach not looking too happy.'' He pointed towards her performance coach staring daggers at her. 

''Oh, fuck, yeah, bye Martin! Thank you so much!'' Y/N quickly thanked the man for letting her take over his segment and she dashed out of there, hoping her team wouldn't be too upset about her disappearing into the grid to ask everyone ridiculous questions. 

''She's a special one for sure.'' 

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[nordschleifes]

while you're busy making other plans

➝ your secret with fernando is leaked to the world. and you deal with it in the most chaotic way possible

➝ word count: 4,4k

➝ warnings: coparenting, lies, press, andrea being a little shit and fernando dealing poorly with press

➝ author's note: part two of this one shot. hope you enjoy it.

The notification that appeared on your phone screen.

It displayed a thumbnail image of you standing with Fernando in the Aston Martin garage, while he ran his hand through Leon's hair. You had been talking about that day’s sessions, with your son detailing how impressed he had been with the mechanics' work in getting his car ready for each stage of qualifying.

However, the caption of the photo turned your stomach. “They know about Leon”, the message said.

That was what you feared most since the day your son was born. You had read enough articles on the pages of Spanish magazines to know that you didn't want that life for him. But, at the same time, you knew that all that effort would go down the drain one day, especially when Leon began to understand the real intention of the excuses and compromises you made up to prevent his identity from being revealed.

You just didn't expect this day to come so quickly.

The knock on the door made you wake up from your thoughts, jumping out of bed towards the entrance of the suite. When your eyes met Fernando's, you felt your throat tighten.

— Y/N — he murmured.

— Come in — you managed to say, opening the door.

The driver passed you silently, head down. You didn't need anything else to know that he had already seen the photos and that he wasn't happy with them.

— What now? — you asked softly, as he sat down on the bed.

— I don't know, Y/N — Fernando replied, running a hand through his hair — Where is...

— With Alberto, I asked him to take Leon to his room so we could talk.

The driver let out a sigh as you sat down next to him.

— I have no idea how that happened — he muttered.

— Well, it has always been a possibility, and you know it.

Fernando looked at you with a serious expression.

— The thing is, nobody knew who you were. Alberto was careful to request the credentials in the team's name and not mine, we arrived separately — he pointed out — Did Leon say anything to anyone?

— No, no — you replied, shaking your head — He stayed with me or Alberto the whole time, he didn't say anything much.

Silence took over the room for a few seconds.

— This was leaked — Fernando finally said — Someone leaked it to the press...

— Do you think Luis…

— No, not him. It wasn't anyone around me, I'm sure. Everyone knows that Leon's privacy is the most important thing to me. They wouldn't do that to me, Y/N...

— What guarantees you that they wouldn't do it for money or...

— Y/N, no one close to me would do that — the driver interrupted you, a note of irritation in his voice — Everyone knows that Leon is the most important person in my life and that he is my priority. They wouldn't be able to, I know that.

You had no way of opposing him in that sense. Everyone who knew Leon's real identity were people connected to Fernando for almost 20 years and who knew him well enough to know how careful he was with his son. However, your mind went to the people who were no longer around Fernando, and the realization hit you like a train.

— Andrea — you murmured, before looking at him — It could only have been her.

The driver pressed his lips into a thin line.

— Are you sure?

— She's the only one who could have leaked this.

— Y/N, we can't get ahead of ourselves.

— She knows we're here on the circuit, she saw when I arrived with Leon — you argued, despair rising in your chest.

— That doesn't mean she did it, Y/N — he countered. This made you jump to your feet, feeling a wave of anger rising up your neck.

— How so? She is the only one who is no longer in your inner circle who knows Leon and has contact with the press.

— Andrea wouldn't use Leon against me, Y/N, she knows he's the most important person in my life — Fernando replied, making you bring your hand to his face in disbelief. You couldn't believe he couldn't see what was clear in front of him.

— And that's precisely why she would do that! — you yelled — She wants to hit you where it hurts, Fernando! She wants you to be sad too, to suffer! Don't you understand that?!

Fernando remained silent, looking at you with a grim expression on his face.

— Now, our son's face is everywhere because your ex-girlfriend can't accept that you don't want anything to do with her! — You continued, anger dripping from his words.

— Y/N…

— What?!

— She was the one who broke up with me.

The revelation hit you like a punch in the stomach. If Andrea was the one who had broken up with Fernando, supposed revenge on her part wouldn't make any sense. If she didn't want to be with him, there would be no reason to reveal Leon's identity to the press.

You were back to square one.

— Do you want to know why? — he asked softly, as you sat down next to him again.

— Did she give a reason?

— She said that I had well-defined priorities and that she wasn't one of them.

— Priorities?

— The work, Leon — Fernando hesitated for a few seconds — You.

You felt a churning sensation in your stomach.

— Me? What do I have to do with it?

The driver sighed heavily.

— I always made it clear from the beginning that you and Leon were an essential part of my life — he explained — Andrea accepted it well, but when she realized that I wouldn't give up living with you two, that I wanted to have you around, I think something changed in her mind.

— So she left you and decided to get revenge on top of that? — you questioned.

— It doesn't matter now, Y/N. What matters is that everyone knows about Leon and that we need to do something.

You clenched your jaw, deep in thought. It didn't matter who leaked the story, but rather what you would do to protect Leon from the approaching media storm.

— You can say you don’t know us…

— It’s not possible, there are photos of us on other occasions, with my parents, with Alberto…

— You can say he's Alberto's — you murmured, looking at your hands — We can pretend we're a couple, I believe he won't mind that, especially in these circumstances...

— No, definitely not — Fernando said, his voice firm — You will not compromise because of an error in judgment I made.

— So, you're just going to deny everything?

— Do I have another choice, Y/N?

— They won't buy this story...

— It's my word against that of an anonymous source, Y/N — the driver interrupted you — I can say that you are a friend of mine and that I have great affection for you and your family. That's simple.

You were thinking about the countless questions that could arise from that answer when the door to the suite opened.

— Papá! — Leon exclaimed, turning around the bed to go to Fernando and hug him.

— Hola, mijo — he said, forcing a smile on the boy — How are you?

— Good — the boy replied, as he sat on his lap — I was playing Mario Kart with Galle.

When you looked back, you found Fernando's manager and friend with a small smile on his face as he watched Leon with his father. However, as soon as his eyes met your, you could see the worry that permeated them.

— I bet you beat him, didn't you? — the driver asked.

— Yes, I won — Leon said, smiling — Galle slipped a lot on the banana peels!

— If someone hadn't thrown the peels at me, I would have arrived first — he countered, making the boy laugh — I'm going to have my revenge, there's no point in laughing, okay?

— I want to see that, huh? — Fernando said, while his son continued to provoke Alberto, talking about how he couldn't stop bumping at his opponents.

However, the relaxed air of the conversation was haunted by the dark cloud of reality. The looks you exchanged with the two men contained silent messages, requests for normality to be maintained, for everything to remain the same, for Leon's sake. And considering the subtle nods and goodnight hugs they gave the boy, you were sure that the three of you were completely committed to this mission.

The next day featured all the chaos that kept you awake for most of the night. With a cap firmly placed on Leon's head and the instruction to keep his head down, you entered the paddock holding his hand firmly. The questions mixed with the sound of camera clicks, focused on the reactions of the two of you.

— Leon, Leon, here! — one shouted.

— Where did you meet Fernando, Y/N? — another asked.

— Y/N, can you answer a question for us? — a third asked, as you climbed the stairs of the Aston Martin motorhome without saying a word. However, your expectation of going unnoticed there was shattered when you noticed the curious looks of the employees and guests who were there, the whispers multiplying.

You were still frozen in the same spot when you felt someone pull your hand.

— Mamá, can we go upstairs? — Leon asked softly, a shy expression on his face — I want to see papá.

— Yes, my love, let's go.

Trying to ignore the way you were being observed, you headed up the stairs towards Fernando's room, praying that there was no one else in the hallways of the motorhome. When you opened the door, however, you found Fernando accompanied by Alberto and Fabri, the three of them talking about something that was on Alberto's cell phone screen. Upon noticing their serious expressions, you made to close the door, but Leon reacted faster than you.

— Papá! — the boy exclaimed, entering the room without any ceremony, running into his father's arms — Happy birthday!

Fernando greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, seeming not to mind the interruption. Closing the door, you could feel the tension building up in your neck, making your movements somewhat painful. However, this was not the time to let that show, not when Leon was so happy.

— Thank you so much, my love. You don't know how happy having you here makes me.

— Mamá and I have a gift for you! — he said, looking at you with an expectation that made you give a small smile.

— A gift? — the driver followed his son's gaze, seeming interested — You know you don't need to give me anything, right?

— Leon insisted — you replied, as you opened your bag and took out a small box decorated with a fancy gold ribbon bow from inside. Then, taking a step forward, you handed it to Fernando — Happy birthday.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he picked up the box and examined it from the outside, the gold Richard Mille logo catching his attention. Giving his son a smile, the pilot undid the bow and opened the box, his eyes widening when he saw what was there.

— That…

— It's a new watch! — Leon exclaimed — Mamá and I made it for you!

Fernando looked at the gift with surprise, seeming not to believe what he had in his hands.

— You made this? — he asked, as he took the accessory out of the box to look at it.

— Yes! — the son responded immediately — Tell him, mamá!

— Richard said that you talked about samurai culture and that you were thinking about creating a model inspired by that a few years ago — you explained — At the end of last year, he called me to continue the project and this is the first functional prototype, what we call 000.

— I chose the colors! — Leon added, making you smile.

After a few seconds contemplating the details of the watch, Fernando hugged Leon and kissed the boy on the cheek again, murmuring something in Spanish to him. Then it was your turn to get a tight hug from him.

— Thank you for that.

— You know it's the least we can do for you, considering everything you've already done for us.

— It was my obligation, Y/N…

— And this is my way — you stopped, while Leon leaned against one of his father's legs, carefully observing the conversation between the two of you — Our way of showing how much we appreciate you for this.

The driver's smile was wide, framed by the same dimples that Leon had in his cheeks and that, seven years ago, had made your heart beat faster. However, you didn't have time to savor the feeling that took over your chest before he said that he needed to get ready for the meeting with the engineers before qualifying for the Sprint race.

With a new hug from Leon and a promise that you would see each other later, you left Fernando's room and went to the area reserved for team guests, where Melina welcomed the two of you with a wide smile. After suggesting the boy a plate of waffles and promising you that there would be no chocolate sauce like the day before, you stayed there, observing the hospitality and paddock movement, waiting for the time of the activities on the track.

Unfortunately, it had not been Fernando's day. After a difficult and rain-delayed qualifying, the Sprint was even more frustrating. Sitting in front of the television, you shook your foot insistently while Leon was standing, biting his nails even after you told him not to.

Then, exactly what you had been afraid of played out in front of you.

— Alonso! Fernando Alonso! — the narrator exclaimed, making your son's eyes widen — Off the track, on the gravel and outside the Sprint, bringing the Safety Car back to the track here in Spa-Francorchamps.

Repeating the image brought you a bit of relief, as the driver had not, in fact, hit the barrier, but had simply spinned onto the wet track and headed towards the escape zone. However, this didn't make Leon calmer, on the contrary.

— Mamá — he asked softly — Is papá okay?

Looking back at the screen in front of you, the image of Fernando walking alongside the marshalls made you give Leon a smile.

— Yes, he's fine, my love.

— Will he be able to have dinner with us today? — he asked, his voice full of hope.

— Yes, I'm sure. Now, let's continue watching the race and then go down to get a snack, what do you think?

With a vigorous nod, Leon sat down next to you, eyes focused on the action unfolding on the track. He celebrated the fight between Sergio Perez and Lewis Hamilton, as well as the overtaking of Carlos Sainz, saying he was good “like papá”. After the checkered flag and the podium ceremony, you invited your son to come with you downstairs.

Upon arriving at the common room of the hospitality, which was slightly empty, you were talking to one of the employees when you felt Leon pull your hand, trying to get your attention.

— Mamá, look over there — he said softly, pointing to one of the screens. In it, Fernando was in front of the microphone, a serious expression on his face. Giving him a small smile, you turned your attention to the employee, who had questioned you about Leon's juice.

After confirming the order and having your pass scanned, you looked again at your son, who was still staring at the television with a serious expression, as if he was paying attention to what Fernando was saying in Spanish. However, you only discovered what had happened later, when you were back at the hotel.

— Now, you go to the shower and I'll sort your clothes so we can go to dinner with your papá — you said, as you dropped your cell phone on the bed. However, when you turned around, you noticed that Leon was hesitant, his eyes on his hands — Is there a problem?

— Mamá, is papá my real papá?

You blinked, a little shocked by that question.

— Why are you asking?

— They asked papá if he had a son on television — the boy said, his voice full of sadness — And he said no.

Guilt made your heart feel heavy in your chest. You definitely didn't expect Leon to see any of Fernando’s interviews, especially one in which he had been mentioned. Pursing your lips, you tried to reorganize your thoughts, looking for the best answer for him, one that said what he needed to know at that moment and that's all.

However, you didn't even say a word.

— Is it true, mamá?

— My love, please — you murmured, sitting on the bed with wobbly legs, your heart racing inside your chest.

— Papá isn’t my papá? — he continued asking, his brown eyes filled with something you had never seen in him before.

Anger.

— Leon, you don’t know what you’re talking about…

— I do! — the boy exclaimed — I saw papá saying that he didn't have any children, that that was nonsense. He doesn't have a son, I'm not his son!

— Can you hear me, Leon? — your voice rising.

— No! — he shouted — You lied to me! Everyone lied to me!

— It's not like that, let me explain — you tried to say, while the boy walked with heavy steps to the bathroom.

— Lies, all lies! — Leon shouted, before entering the bathroom and closing the door violently.

Something about that scene reminded you of your own adolescence. You felt like you were watching yourself argue heatedly with your parents and, in an attempt to escape that, you hid inside your room, but not before slamming the door hard, taking out all your anger on her.

However, Leon was not a teenager, but just a boy.

He was your little boy.

You didn't even notice when the first tear ran down his face, bitter and completely lost. At that moment, with Leon thinking that his life had been a real lie, you had no idea what to do. Forcibly entering the bathroom to try to explain things felt wrong, as did shouting the truth at the wood.

Then, a knock on the door made something light up in his mind.

Running to the door, you clumsily opened it, praying that it was whoever you needed that was there by your side.

— Good evening — Fernando greeted you, his smile dying when he saw your red eyes and wet cheeks — What happened, Y/N?

— It's Leon — you stammered, your eyes filling with tears.

He walked past you with heavy steps, his expression serious.

— Where is he? What happened to my son?

You looked at him sadly.

— Leon thinks you’re not his father — you just said, your voice breaking.

The driver looked shocked by that, as if he couldn't believe what you had said.

— What?

— He saw the interview after the Sprint and came to this conclusion. I don't know how or why, but he's convinced we lied to him.

Fernando passed a hand over his face, dismayed.

— I didn’t say anything much…

— It was enough for him — you replied harshly, even by your standards. However, he didn't seem to mind, going to the bathroom door and knocking gently.

— Mijo? It's papá, please open.

— No! — Leon shouted.

— Please, my love, let papá explain to you…

— I don't want to hear you!

He let out a heavy sigh, resting his forehead against the wood.

His son didn't want to talk to him, or anyone.

Asking you to inform him of any developments, you watched Fernando exit the suite you were sharing with Leon in silence, his shoulders slumped as if he was carrying something extremely heavy on his back. Probably guilt for having said what shouldn't have been said, even though the intention was the best possible.

The silence after the bedroom door closed seemed to last for ages. Lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling in silence. The tears had already stopped flowing some time ago when you heard the bathroom handle turn and the door open, revealing Leon. Sitting down on the mattress, you saw that the boy's eyes were red and his nose was still running, which indicated that he had been crying.

Silently, he sat near your legs, head down.

— Leon — you murmured, hesitantly.

— I want to leave — the boy said, his voice surprisingly firm.

— But, we have the race tomorrow, papá said...

— I don't want to watch the race anymore — Leon interrupted you, looking at you — I want to go home, mamá.

The news that his son wanted to leave Spa as soon as possible, without even watching the race, hit Fernando like a bombshell. He even asked you to try to convince him to stay until morning, so the two of you could talk better, but Leon was impassive.

And, as the lights came on on the track, the two of you were already in the air, heading home in absolute silence.

The following months followed in the same way. As much as you and Fernando hoped that Leon would give in and talk to his father, he remained impassive. During the summer break, there were many times that the driver went to your house to see him, without any success. The answer was always the same.

— He's not my father.

The only person he still allowed himself to see was Alberto, who was trying to break the barriers imposed by the boy. However, after an afternoon of walking with him, Galle looked at you with a worried expression, a strong contrast to the smile with which he had said goodbye to his godson.

— Did something happen? Is it about Fernando?

— Yeah — he said, passing a hand over his face — I didn't say anything, just to make it clear, it was Leon who asked about Fer and...

— What he said?

— He asked how Fer was doing, with those words. I replied that he was fine, but very sad that he wasn't talking to him, that he was missing him.

— Did Leon say anything about that?

— Just that he doesn't understand the fact that he's missing him because he's nothing to Fernando, he has no reason to care about that — Alberto replied, punctuating with a heavy sigh — Look, Y/N, I really don't know if I don't It's time to sit down with him and explain this misunderstanding...

— You think I didn't try? — you returned, crossing your arms.

— I imagine there is, but maybe you call Fer and the three of you sit down and talk seriously...

— Leon doesn’t want to talk…

— He can't just ignore his own father forever, Y/N — Alberto interrupted you, gesturing with one of his hands — You'll have to come up with some idea to help him, otherwise, Fer will go crazy.

You spent the next few days with that in your head, your mind searching for the best way to show Leon that Fernando was his father and that, above all, he loved him. Among his ideas was the possibility of asking the driver's parents to intervene or simply taking him to a psychologist and letting her lead the conversation.

Until an idea came to your mind.

The easy part was convincing Fernando to do that. Of course, it wasn't simple, considering all the implications it would have on your lives, especially when it came to your privacy. However, the idea of ​​being rejected for the rest of his life by his son made the driver give in.

The real challenge was convincing Leon to sit next to you to watch the television, which was already tuned to the channel he would appear on. The boy resisted bravely, stating that he didn't want to see Fernando and that he didn't like Formula 1 anymore. However, somehow, the image of his father on television made him stop, his eyes attentive.

— We're here with Fernando Alonso, Aston Martin driver, how are you?

— Everything's great — he replied with a smile.

— McLaren will be a challenge for you here in Abu Dhabi, right?

— Yes, totally. In the last two races, we gained more points than them, but we need a small miracle to overcome them — the driver explained — We are separated by 11 points, but we will try. Our main motivation is the constructors' championship.

— Now, with this season over, what are your plans?

— Well, the main thing is to rest, especially after so many trips. After the race, I go home to spend some time with Leon.

The mention to his son made the reporter's eyes widen.

— Leon, you mean…

— My son, yes. I did my best to avoid speculation and protect his and his mother's privacy, but it doesn't do much good right now and, if I can be honest, I was tired of not being able to tell him how amazing he is and how much I love him.

— I assume he likes speed — the man asked, still looking disconcerted.

— He loves it, understands everything and can’t wait to start driving. But he also loves drawing and plays football very well, so we'll have a lot to do during this vacation.

After he greeted the reporter one last time and left the camera, you looked at Leon, who was staring at the television in silence.

— Are you fine, my love? — you asked.

— Papá talked about me — he stammered, looking at you.

— Yes, he did, did you see?

— He said he loves me…

— Papá always loved you, Leon. From the beginning, when you were still in mamá's belly. He loves you very much and nothing will change that.

The boy smiled at you for the first time in a long time.

— Can we call him, mamá?

— Do you want to talk to papá?

— Yes, I do.

You felt tears as you searched for Fernando's contact details on your cell phone. Tapping the video call icon, the driver's image appeared almost immediately on your screen, his expression indicating the anxiety he felt.

— So, Y/N, did it work? — he asked.

Turning the phone to Leon, the boy's smile grew even wider.

— Hi, papá…

— Hi, mijo — you heard Fernando ask with a choked voice — Did you see papá on television?

— I did.

— Did you see I talked about you? — he questioned, with Leon nodding positively in response — Do you understand now that papá loves you?

A few seconds of silence followed, tension building in your shoulders.

Then, another positive wave from the boy made you smile, tears streaming down your face.

— I love you so much, mijo. You are the most precious thing I have in my life and I would never do anything if it wasn't for your happiness and your safety.

— I love you too, papá.

[clairebearsparkles]

Ok I have been workshopping this tmagp theory for a bit because I am very passionate about it and as time goes on I really feel like it could be viable.

Fredi is more important than we think. I mean yeah, you could probably guess that already. However, I think it is important because I think Fredi is pretending to be Chester, Norris, and Augustus. I think Fredi is like a thing that is wearing the remnants of these people. "But the email from Jon," Fredi could easily just pretend to be Jon and send an email, an internal email specifically. I don't think our jmart and Jonah are in the computer, I think the program knows them in some way and is using them as masks. Narratively, I think the fact it's Jon, Martin, and (probably) Jonah's voices is a bit of a red herring. Like it's a misdirection so you focus on "omg it's the blorbos!" and not even consider the thing powering the blorbos.

Think about it, it goes with everything that has been said about this show: It keeps jmart's fate ambiguous, it touches on the idea that this show is about what makes a human a human (Fredi trying to be a person by taking on the identities of real people, would that make it a person?), Fredi could just pull a Jonah voice from thin air or has some outer knowledge about it, it would explain why Fredi has a name (I feel like it having a name gives it some form of character), and it's way less sad than everyone getting sergei ushanka-ed.

This is a bit of a crack theory, it really has no firm evidence, but like it just makes so much sense to me lol.

[cevansbrat0007]

New In Town

Summary: Introducing Chapter One of my Sweet Renegades Series. Sparks fly when you accidentally find yourself sitting next to Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death and Grief, Mentions of Book Boyfriends, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Major thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me plot out this chapter. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was happening again. You could feel him doing it. You knew without turning your head that the bastard had gone back to staring.

At you.

Gritting your teeth, you make a point of adjusting the skirt of your dress before returning your focus to Reverend Turner at the pulpit. Trying your best to ignore the hum of electricity in your veins, you find yourself wishing that you’d opted to stay home today. After all, you hadn’t been to church in ages. 

So what on earth possessed you to return today?

It’s not like you were concerned for your immortal soul or anything. On the contrary, you and God were good. You were even on speaking terms again – now that you’d finally forgiven him for calling your Uncle Leon home before you were ready to let him go.

That had been nearly three years ago.

These days, your grief has taken a backseat in favor of running the town’s only bookshop, Baubles & Quills. Once owned by your Uncle, the store had become your sanctuary as you’d struggled to cope with the loss of the only family you’d ever had. 

And now that you’d deemed life worth living again you’d apparently decided that attending Calvary Baptist Church’s Sunday morning service was a good idea. But the one thing you hadn’t counted on when you’d politely – and strategically – taken a seat in the pew closest to the door was that you’d end up sharing it with the likes of him.    

That bounty hunter fella that you’d been hearing about for the last week. His arrival had practically sent your little town into a regular feeding frenzy. Word on the street was that he was investigating something that had to do with your old high school pal, Martin Westbrook.

At least that’s what Charline Marshall had said when she’d stopped by your shop to return a book she’d purchased because she didn’t care for the ending. While you weren’t usually one for gossip, you’d been intrigued by her, ah, description of the handsome stranger that had taken up residence just a few blocks south of where you lived.

Two Days Ago…

“His name is Ari Levinson. Kinda strange, right?” She’d whispered conspiratorially, running a hand through her copper colored tresses . “But he’s a tall drink of water with the prettiest blue eyes I‘ve ever seen.”

“Oh really?” You’d mumbled, frowning at the crease that adorned the spine of the paperback book in your hands. Another one for the discount rack.

“Mhm. He’s handsome all over.” Charline had continued, picking up one of your more elaborate looking bookmarks and pretending to study it before using it to fan herself. “And not only that, but…” She’d leaned in then, allowing her freshly manicured nails lightly graze your arm. “I think he likes me.”

“Oh? Has he come out and said that?” Your eyes had gone wide with feigned interest. Because of course the man would be into Charline Anne Marshall. Who wouldn’t be? The woman was beautiful and, what’s more, she knew it.  

“Well, I mean…not yet.” The woman had let out a disappointed little sigh. “But I’m almost certain he will. I’m just giving him time to get settled in, you know?” She’d said, her perfectly painted lips curving into a smile as she held out a hand for her change. 

“How kind of you.” Good Lord how you wished you could hurry things along so you could go back to enjoying your peace and quiet. 

“Ari has already interviewed me twice. He even gave me his number, just in case I happen to remember anything else.” She’d tucked the cash from her return into her purse. “I think I might call him up and tell him that my memory works best after a couple of drinks. Think that’ll work?”

“I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Even though you were annoyed, you’d pasted on a fake smile and closed the register, hoping that might be enough to convince her to end the conversation and move on already.

“Why, I think you just might be right.” Your unwanted guest held up the bookmark that was still in her grasp, her unspoken question left hanging in the air. “And this?”

“It’s on the house, Charline.” You’d patiently replied, bracing your elbows on the counter. “Best of luck landing your bounty hunter beau.”

“Well, aren’t you just a gem?” She’d all but squealed, sounding positively giddy as she took a step back. “You know, I bet if you spent a little more time out in the real world instead of holed-up in here with all these books, you’d probably be able to land a man too. You’d be awful pretty if you’d just put in a little bit of effort into it. I mean –” 

“No thanks.” You’d simply shrugged, unable to summon up enough energy to be outraged by the dig. 

It wasn’t worth the breath you would've wasted trying to explain why you were better off keeping the company of your book boyfriends. A real man required too much care and feeding for your tastes. 

“If you say so, sugar. But–” She’d responded as she strode towards the door. “Oh! You should come to my next party. We’ll let Mary Kay sponsor your makeover.”   

'No offense, Charline, but I’d rather put a campfire out with my face than attend your next Mary Kay get-together featuring you and ten of your mother’s closest friends.' You'd thought to yourself.

“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.” You’d hedged before turning on your heel and heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Enjoy the bookmark!” God, you’d never been so happy to hear someone exit your shop than you were at that moment.

Which brought you back to the present. You’re startled out of your reverie when the congregation erupts into thunderous applause, signaling the end of Reverend Turner’s sermon.  You knew you were going to have to move quickly if you wanted to avoid any unwanted attention from other members of the flock. 

Or worse yet: be forced into making small talk with Ari Levinson. Assuming that beast of a man actually possessed enough brain cells to actually string together a sentence or two. Which was a shame because he really was easy on the eyes. 

Unfortunately for you, you don’t realize that now you’re the one who’s staring until you notice the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. Shit. The cocky lawman nods his head in your direction before having the audacity to mouth the word: “howdy”. It almost makes you wonder what his voice would sound like. 

Would his southern drawl be thick and rough, or smooth and easygoing? Assuming he was southern, that is.

Feeling your cheeks heat, you make fast work of grabbing your things before scooting out of the pew, doing your best to sneak out of the service before everyone is formally dismissed. The absolute last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were like every other woman in this town who was willing to practically trip over herself just to get a good look at him. 

On your way out you brush past Sister Mary Jo Winans, who is all too eager to follow you out the door and halfway down the front stairs.

So much for making a clean getaway.

“You’re not staying for the potluck?” She wheezes, gripping the railing as she struggles to catch her breath. 

“Afraid not, Sister Winans.” You tell her while digging through your purse for your keys. “I’ve gotta go home and change so I can head over to the shop.”

“But it’s Sunday, honey.” The matronly woman huffs, adjusting the angle of her wide-brim church hat. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s all right there in the good Book.”

“Be that as it may, Sister, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Plus I wouldn’t feel right about eating when I didn’t bring a dish to contribute, so…” You offer up a one-armed shrug. “Next time.” 

You also weren’t a fan of eating in front of people. You were always self-conscious about whatever you put on your plate, convinced that you were being judged for your choices. Your stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding you that you’d left some cottage cheese and fruit behind at the shop. That would just have to do until you found the wherewithal to make it to the grocery store.   

“But–”

“Next time. I promise.” You kindly interrupt, hoping that she would just let the issue drop. “By the way, I set aside a copy of Joyce Meyer’s latest book for you.”

“You did?”

“Yep.” You confirm as you begin walking backwards towards the nearby parking lot. “Stop by anytime. We’ll consider it an early birthday present, alright?” Smiling when she nods, you toss her a little wave before speed walking the rest of the way to your car. 

Unlocking it, you climb in the driver’s seat and slam the door before gunning the engine. Finally free, you peel out of the lot and turn onto the empty street. Needing to focus on something other than your thoughts about a certain bounty hunter, you decide to turn up the radio, praying for your traitorous brain to cooperate. 

Yeah, no such luck. 

“Fuck you, Levinson.” You spit, wishing that he was close enough to hear you right then. Because the way you saw it, the sooner he packed his shit and moved on, the better off you and everyone else in this godforsaken town would be. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay far away from you.

He’d have more luck getting information out of a drunk Charline than he would trying to get you to spill your guts. And the moment he threatened you, you were planning to call Bell’s Creek PD to let them deal with it. Until then, you had some empty shelves to stock. But first…

You were gonna need to find someone to cut you out of these damned spanx.

END 

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[monzabee]

déjà vu (beyoncé’s version) – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where a bad prank leads to you and Lando exploring an option you thought was not an option.

Pairing: lando norris x bestfriend!reader (nicknamed Tink)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut elements but no actual smut, cursing, pining and of course fluff!

Request: “Haiiii. I love your style of writing Lando and feel like you would 100% do a request justice to scratch the itch in my brain Reader and him have been childhood friends, mutual pining with some sexual tension but never crossed lines other than a new years kiss with friends etc. So reader ends up training and qualifying as a physio/masseuse and travelling with Lando bc fun besties on tour together yay! Thinking she ends up getting to know his body really well from that and has to massage some intimate area- tension builds blah. They have a cosy night in together after front row quali to prep for the race, face masks cuddles bc really physically comfortable together and then some confessions happen. After this going out to celebrate home race (not jinxing tomorrow!!) and reader ends up dancing with another driver, Lando gets jealous fully opens up and they go home together (as much detail on that as you feel comfortable with) No probs if it’s something you don’t feel inspired to write! Pls continue writing whatever you love because I love to read your stuff!!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! am i back after a literal month of no fics?? i hope so!! thank you so much for being patient with me you guysi i appreciate it, and i just want to say that this was the first time i wrote for lando (and you can definitely thank @userlando and her lando brainrot posts for that) and i’m kind of obsessed!! so as always, thank you to the anon for the request, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Being friends with Lando has resulted in both of you getting in trouble way too many times, you realise. The most recent case? The both of you ended up in a supply closet nearby the Aston Martin hospitality, hiding from a very, very, angry Spaniard. The close proximity and the limited space wouldn’t have been a big issue, for if Lando wasn’t looking at you with that look in his eyes. Under normal other circumstances, your reaction would’ve been much more different to the one you give him now – which is a glare that shows him you are not happy with the situation the both of you are in.

You’re about to scold him, but the words on your tongue quickly die as he presses his index finger to your lips. “I know you’re about to yell at me,” he whispers as he tries to keep his voice as low as possible, “but I really don’t want to be found right now.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before, you bloody idiot.” You hiss while slapping his hand away, which wins you a mock pout in return. “Why would you play that song every time he walked into a room?”

“It’s his name,” Lando tries to reason, “I thought he’d be used to it by now!”

Here’s the sitch. Lando, being the absolute prankster he is, decided to play ‘Fernando’ every time his former teammate entered into a room that morning – which resulted in the Spaniard becoming more and more annoyed with him until he snapped and Lando had to find himself a hiding place. How did you get roped into this, you may ask? You have absolutely no idea, other than your best friend dragging you into a nearby storage closet as you were walking back to the McLaren hospitality after meeting up with some of your friends for a cup of coffee. And now? The two of you are stuck inside a closet which is obviously too small for you both, and Lando has to bend his neck in an uncomfortable position.

“Lando,” you whisper in an attempt to keep your voice down, “don’t bend your head like that, you’ll strain something.”

“Well it’s not exactly comfortable, Tink.” He grimaces as one of the shelves hit his neck, which causes him to let out a low groan.

Ignoring the nickname he’s used for years, you motion him to move lower. “Just– let me see, okay?”

He begrudgingly nods as he bends his body towards you to accommodate you. You let your fingers run across his skin to find any knots along his shoulders. He lets out another low groan, but this one is more appreciative as you work some of the knots your fingers end up finding.

You watch as Lando’s expression changes from painful discomfort to relief as your fingers work their magic on his tense muscles. For a brief moment, it's just the two of you in the confined space, and you almost get lost in the comfortable silence. “Feels good,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I swear you have magic hands or something.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I just know your body, Lando.” After realising the words that come out of your mouth, your face flushes with embarrassment at the unintended implication of your words and you scramble to add, “Not like that, I didn’t mean–”

He smirks playfully, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, really? My body, huh? You think about my body often?” he teases, his hands squeezing your waist – and being lost in the moment, you don’t even know how they ended up there.

Your cheeks grow even hotter, and you feel your heart rate quicken. “No, that's not what I meant,” you stammer, trying to regain your composure, “and you know it’s basically my job to think about, you know?”

The mischievous glint in his eyes shine brightly as he decides to play dumb, “To think about what, baby?”

Your heart skips a beat at his teasing, and you can't help but let out a small laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Don't be ridiculous, Lando,” you retort, trying to act cool despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I meant knowing your body like an expert, considering the fact that you pull a muscle every time you decide to do a physical activity.”

He chuckles, and his hands, still resting on your waist, give you a playful squeeze. "Sure, sure, Tink," he replies, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "But let's be honest, it's not just my body you know well. You practically read my mind too."

You roll your eyes, trying to playfully push him away. "Oh, please. You're not that hard to figure out."

Lando leans in a little closer, his grin still evident. "Is that so? Then tell me, oh expert of Lando Norris, what am I thinking right now?"

You raise an eyebrow, not falling for his trick. "You're probably thinking that you got away with the Fernando prank and now you owe me big time, your brain is empty most of the time."

He smirks, impressed by your response. "You're good, Tink. But you're right, I do owe you one. What can I do to make it up to you?"

You pause, the closeness between the two of you making it difficult to think clearly. "Well, for starters, maybe you can stop dragging me into your pranks and getting us into trouble," you suggest with a hint of a smile. “And I don’t know, maybe take pole for me, you know?”

As the playful banter continues, you both seem to forget about the predicament you're in. The confined space of the closet no longer feels suffocating; instead, it becomes a haven for shared laughter and camaraderie.

Just as the two of you are lost in the moment, the closet door suddenly opens, and you both freeze. The angry Spaniard stands before you once again, but this time, his expression has softened, seeing you and Lando in a surprisingly intimate moment.

"Am I interrupting something?" Fernando asks, his tone amused.

Your face turns beet red, and Lando lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, hey there. Just having a chat, you know."

But Fernando raises an eyebrow, still looking amused. "In a supply closet?"

You and Lando exchange a sheepish glance, realizing how the situation must appear to Fernando. "Well, we kind of got caught up in the moment," you admit, hoping he doesn't read too much into it.

Fernando chuckles, and there's a warm glint in his eyes. "I see. Well, it's none of my business, but you might want to find a less cramped place to chat next time."

You nod in agreement, grateful that Fernando seems to be taking the situation lightly. "You're right. We'll keep that in mind," you say, trying to sound casual.

Lando adds with a grin, "Yeah, and we promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on." But he’s quick to correct himself when you give him a glare, “I promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on."

Fernando chuckles again, seemingly amused by the whole ordeal. "I'd appreciate that. Anyway, carry on. I won't keep you two any longer."

As he walks away, you let out a sigh of relief. "That could have been a lot worse," you say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"Yeah, we got lucky," Lando agrees, giving you a playful nudge. "But you know what they say, Tink, nothing like a bit of closet bonding to strengthen a friendship."

You roll your eyes at his playful banter, but there's a fondness in your heart as you look at him. "You're incorrigible, Lando Norris."

He grins, "You love it, though."

You can't help but smile, knowing he's right. “Come on,” you say, “you have a quali to attend.”

The tension from the qualifying session had left you on edge, your heart pounding with every lap, and your nerves had gotten the better of you, leading to some slightly bloody nails from biting them in anticipation. But all that anxiety melts away when you see Lando step out of the car, grinning ear to ear. As soon as he catches sight of you, he opens his arms, and you don't hesitate for a moment. You rush into his embrace, holding him tightly, relieved that he's safe and thrilled that he performed so well.

"You were amazing out there!" you exclaim, unable to hide the pride in your voice. "P2, front row! That's incredible!"

Lando chuckles, his arms still wrapped around you. "I don’t know how we did it!"

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart swelling with admiration for your best friend. "I never doubted you for a second," you say earnestly.

His grin widens, and he playfully ruffles your hair. "I know you didn't. Seems like you’re my lucky charm, hm?"

“You know what that means?” You ask him return, a playful smirk on your lips.

His answer comes quickly, and his look seems to reflect your own, “Pizza and a movie?”

Your reply is just as enthusiastic as you throw your arms around him and give him a big smile, “Pizza and a movie, baby!”

Eventually, you manage to escape the whole hustle and bustle of the circuit, and you and Lando find yourselves back at the hotel, with you on the couch trying to find something to watch and him deciding to take a quick shower after the stressful day of qualifying. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. You smile to yourself, glad that Lando is taking some time to relax after such a demanding day. As you wait for him to finish, you finally settle on a movie to watch with a small grin on your face, clearly pleased with your choice. Just as you're about to start the movie, you hear the bathroom door open, and Lando emerges, looking refreshed and relaxed.

After he gets the pizza box out of the oven, he walks over to the couch, wearing sweatpants instead of his jeans, and flops down next to you. "That shower was exactly what I needed," he says with a contented sigh.

You chuckle, glancing at him, while also trying to actively ignore the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants. "Feeling better now?"

"Definitely," he replies, flashing you a grin. "So, what are we watching?"

“Mamma Mia,” you scoff, “of course.”

“A classic, nice.” He nods in understanding, extending the pizza box to you for you to take a slice. “It’s still warm.”

You wordlessly grab a slice and pass the box back to Lando as you settle in your seat, ready to focus on your choice of movie. The comfortable silence between you feels familiar, like the unspoken language of best friends who have shared countless memories and moments together. Throughout the movie, you can't help but notice Lando's occasional stolen glances at you, and you find yourself stealing glances right back. He even winks at you with that boyish grin every time he catches you staring at him, making you giggle as you quickly turn your attention back onto the screen. You somehow find yourself sprawled out on the couch once the pizza box is emptied and discarded, and it’s harder for you to keep your eyes open. With your head on Lando’s lap, he plays with the ends of your hair as the two of you try to keep your attention on the screen.

‘Try,’ being the operative word here, since Lando realises that you end up falling asleep in the middle of the movie where Sophie realises all of the men she invited to the wedding thinks they are her father, and though he finds some kind of comfort in the chaos knowing that it will get resolved eventually, he can’t help but take his role as a makeshift human pillow very seriously. As the movie continues playing, Lando tries his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He leans back against the couch, adjusting his position so you can rest more comfortably on his lap while also trying so hard to not wake you up. He can't help but smile to himself as he plays with your hair, finding himself mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

With a sudden realisation that maybe it is not the best thing to stare at you while you sleep, he tries to occupy himself with something on his phone while also trying to keep still so that you don’t wake up. However, the text thread between him and Max quickly makes him realise that the thoughts that he tries so hard to keep away. He never gave himself the opportunity to think about the two of you that way, he supposes. Not that it would be weird or anything, but in his mind, he’d seen, and been in, far too many relationships form and de-form to know that not all is permanent when it comes to relationships and it’s also not something he’d want to risk when it comes to you. Although the unwarranted thoughts of the two of you together, as a couple, have been haunting him for the past couple of months, he did a great job of sending them away and finding something else to focus on – up until now, that is. And now that he’s pictured the two of you together, holding hands in the streets of Monaco, going on dates, doing more than what ‘best friends’ are meant to do, it doesn’t seem that daunting to give it a try.   

He carefully shifts you onto his lap with gentle movements, surprised that you don’t wake up and also trying to figure out the best way to wake you up without startling you. As he gently brushes your cheek, your eyes flutter open, and you look up at him with a sleepy smile. "Did I miss the end of the movie?" you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, but not stilling the movement of his hand. “No, we just finished. You fell asleep somewhere in the middle.”

You sit up slightly, rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. “I'm sorry,” you say, sounding apologetic.

“No need to apologise,” he assures you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You looked adorable sleeping, Tink.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, and you give him a playful nudge. “Stop teasing me.”

Lando grins, but there's a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at you. “I'm not teasing, Tink. I mean it. You always look adorable, no matter what you're doing.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his sincere compliment, and you can't help but smile back. “Thank you,” you say softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you, “I, uh, I should probably go to my room and let you sleep.”

“What? No, you don’t have to go.” Lando’s eyebrows furrow on their own, “I mean, you could stay over, it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

You give him an unsure look, “I don’t know, Lando, you have a race tomorrow.”

“And we’ll sleep,” he shrugs, “the name ‘sleepover’ implies that, baby.”

You end up giving in and nodding, albeit a little hesitant. "Alright, I'll stay over."

Lando's face lights up with a bright smile, clearly pleased with your decision. "Great! It'll be fun, just like old times."

You chuckle softly. "Yeah, just like old times."

And you’d expect it to feel like the old times, because the two of you said it would be like the old times – the times where you’d spend the night over at his house because his mother picked you up and you didn’t want the playtime to be over. But instead of the excitement of a prolonged play date with your best friend, you find yourself anxious in the hotel bathroom over the fact that it’s him out there, and there is no way that he is not aware of the way you feel about him. You take a moment to compose yourself, splashing some cold water on your face to calm your nerves. This situation is new territory for both of you, and you don't want anything to ruin the friendship the two of you have. When you eventually make your way out of the bathroom, you desperately want to go back in, feeling undoubtedly exposed under Lando’s burning gaze.

“What?” You ask, your voice coming off weaker than you hoped, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

It takes a minute for him to answer you, mainly because of the fact that poor Lando is having a brain malfunction at the sight of you in his shirt – which he gave it to you because it was the only logical option for sleepwear, you know? Suddenly regretting his possessive streak, he attempts to clear his throat, “Nothing, you look good in my clothes.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try not to let yourself become reduced to a blubbering mess, “Oh, well thank you. It’s yours,” after a brief moment of realisation you quickly add, “but you already knew that.”

“Tink,” he calls out, snapping you out of whatever embarrassed state you’re in, and your eyes quickly snap to his. “Come here,” he pleads as he extends one of his towards you, he’s quick to draw you into his arms – and just like that, you find yourself straddling your best friend.

“This is crazy,” you whisper as Lando grabs you by the waist to still your movements as you try to find a comfortable position while not realising just how uncomfortable it becomes for him.

“It doesn’t have to be,” his whisper is just as soft as yours as he looks up to you, “we don’t have to make it weird.”

A compromise, you’ll take it. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” As much as you hate it when he replies to your questions with his own, you nod your head with a sheepish look on your face, though it doesn’t satisfy Lando as a valid answer. “I need you to say it, baby.”

You answer comes of in an instant. “I do, please.”

“Such good manners,” he mumbles while giving you that boyish grin you love oh so much. When he catches biting the corner of your lip, you’re broken out of your daydream by his thumb pulling your lip free. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” his thumb caresses the side of your lip, “that’s my job, anyway.”

Your cheeks flush at his playful comment, and you can't help but smile at his words. "Your job, huh?" you tease, feeling the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

Lando chuckles, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your waist. "Among other things," he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you give yourself the opportunity to overthink, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips – it’s only a peck, a hesitant one at that, but not completely uncharted territory when you think about it. The two of you have shared kisses before, at Christmas or New Year’s at midnight, but somehow this simple peck feels different than any of those other occasions. Lando doesn’t rush you. He’s a patient man after all, and he knows that the feelings he has for you are reciprocated by the feelings you have for him. So when you look him with widened eyes, he gives you a soft smile and it does wonders to calm your nerves. It doesn’t take you long to press your lips against his once again, but this time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and filled with the unspoken words that have lingered between you for too long.

It starts off with another peck, but this time you take the initiative to deepen the kiss, and the appreciative groan that leaves Lando’s lips makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. His hands move from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, while yours tangle in his hair, revelling in the softness of his curls – and the fact that all of this feels almost familiar in some kind of a way. He’s not shy as he lets his tongue explore your mouth, in fact, he encourages you to do the same. It’s a messy kiss filled with colliding tongues and mixed breaths, and the hands that were on your waist one moment are now on your hips, encouraging their slow movement against his groin. It’s not a subtle build-up for any of you, either. It a matter of seconds, you find yourself dry-humping your childhood best friend in his hotel room, and in a couple more, both of you are whimpering into the kiss.

You’re both out of breath and breathing deeply as you rest your forehead against Lando’s. Thankfully, his hands continue to guide your hips as their movement get more and more erratic, and you him groan out, “Slow down, baby.”

You let out an objective whimper in return, whispering out a weak, “No.”

“No?” Lando repeats, his breath hitting your exposed neck in a light chuckle, “Do you want to come?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, letting your hands grab handfuls of his hair, “but you can’t fuck me.”

The whine that comes from your lips can only be described as bratty when Lando forces your hips to cease their movements, raising an eyebrow at you as he grumbles, “Excuse me?”

“You can’t fuck me, Lando.” You mumble, trying to move your hips again, but his hold is too powerful against your attempts. “At least not tonight.”

“And why is that, Tink?” He takes in your wide eyes and shuddering breath in, thinking he’d done something wrong, something you didn’t like. “You want to come, no?” He thinks at that moment, as you give him a nod with that dreamy and almost innocent look on your face, he could die and he’d be happy with where his life has led him, but he gives you a confused look, “Then what is the problem?”

“Um, you have a race tomorrow,” you explain as your fingers gently slide down to meet at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

As a respond to your words, Lando gives you a look of disbelief, “You don’t want to jinx me having a good race,” he mumbles.

You give him another nod, “Are you mad at me?”

 “Am I mad at you?” Lando repeats the question, and he flips the two of you over in a smooth motion so that you're lying on the bed with him hovering above you, his eyes locked onto yours. “Answer the question for me, will you?”

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “No,” you reply softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Why would you be mad at me?”

Lando's lips curve into a playful smile as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, “Good girl.” As he moves down your body, you let out a protesting sound, but he quickly shushes you as he positions himself between your legs. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re not talking to Micheal Italiano ever again.” He taps the side of your hips to signal you to raise them up as he carefully takes off your underwear and then murmurs to himself, “Pretty girl, too.”

With a blush which is quickly spreading onto your cheeks and neck, you raise yourself onto your elbows as you watch him give you the do-over. “Lando,” you plead.

“Oh baby, you're wet,” he teases, “don’t worry, though, I’ll help you with that.” He also gives you a look while grabbing both of your thighs, “And the shirt fucking stays on.”

After the events of the previous night with Lando working wonders between your legs for the remainder of the night, he honestly didn’t expect to start the morning with you returning the favour. Alas there you were, between his legs, with sleepy eyes and an innocent smile as if you hadn’t just given him the best blowjob of his life. And as the two of you make your way along the paddock, he wishes he was back in his hotel room with you in his arms. You try your best to distract him from overthinking everything and costing himself the race, and Lando is aware of what you’re trying to do – though that doesn’t mean you succeed completely.

You can tell by the small frown of eyebrows that he is lost inside his head, probably double guessing every aspect of the strategy his team debriefed him about this morning. With a deep inhale, you give his hand a small squeeze, halting your movements to stop him alongside you. “Hey,” you call out gently, “you’re going to be amazing out there, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know, it’s just the pressure is getting to me.” You watch him sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to regroup his thoughts, “I’ll be fine before I go in the car, I promise.”

You nod, giving him an encouraging smile, “I know you will. After all, you feel the–”

“Need for speed.” He completes the sentence without thinking, which makes the two of share a short laughter. “Thanks, Tink.”

“You’re welcome,” lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, you give him a soft peck on his lips, “I’ll watch the race with your dad, okay?” You chuckle at his reaction when he lets out a prolonged groan, “What?”

“He’s going to make fun of us, big time.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Go,” you say in between laughter, “don’t be late and for the love of God, be careful!”

Lando chuckles at your playful warning, giving you a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am!”

It doesn’t take long for you to find Adam, who gives you a knowing look, in the sea of spectators in the McLaren garage. And as the race begins, you and Adam stand side by side, your eyes fixed on the track where the race is unfolding. The first four laps as the Lando leads the race makes your heart beat so hard, you can practically feel the excitement coursing through your veins. Each turn and straightaway that Lando navigates flawlessly adds to the anticipation building in the air. Even when he returns to his original position, you’re on the edge, praying to whatever deity up there for him to finish this race without and incident. You’ve told him million times before that you don’t get F1 at all, you’ve always thought the adrenaline linked with the sport to be a negative feeling – too heavy, too much and definitely not something you want to feel every weekend. But in the moment that Lando passes the finishing line P2, you realise why people are so obsessed with this sport. Because when Lando crosses the finish line, you find yourself cheering as loudly as anyone else. The rush of emotions, once alien to you, now feels like a shared celebration of human achievement and dedication.

Lando is all smiles when he finally finds his way back to you, and he’s giving you a kiss the moment he has you back in his arms; celebrating with the team in the paddock was a whirlwind of emotions. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, his big smile is infectious.

So you’re honestly confused when he starts dragging you through the hallways of the club you went to for his celebrations with the rest of the team. The beat of the music playing back in the dancefloor echoes in the hallway as he leads you down the hall. The lights, the laughter, and the energy of the celebrations in the main area of the club are still audible, but you can only hear the muffled sounds of the celebration being held for him. “Lando,” in hopes of finally getting some answers, you say his name for the umpteenth time, but he just looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “what’s wrong?”

He's silent as he wraps his arms around your waist and before you can repeat your question he buries his head in the crook of your neck. While you’re thinking about what could’ve caused his sudden need to be alone with you, he’s very glad that you’ve opted to wear sneakers tonight instead of heels.

“Baby,” you murmur, your fingers running through his curls in an attempt to bribe him, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” His voice is muffled by your skin and you can feel the breath he exhales on your shoulder.

You purse your lips and give him a few moments for him to break on his own, but when he doesn’t, you sigh softly. “Something is wrong.”

He raises his head momentarily to give you an unamused look, then bury his head back into your neck, “I saw you and Oscar.”

“Yeah, we were talking about the race.” Your confirmation leaves you confused as he lets out a scoff, and you find yourself warily asking, “Is there something wrong with that?”

You hear him scoff again and then, “Well I didn’t particularly like it.”

You gently push him off of you as you try to look past his confused expression and pouted lips, “You didn’t like me talking to your teammate… about your race.”

“Well when you put it like that–”

“Lando he is two years younger than us, and he has a girlfriend you do realise that, don’t you?” Your hands rest on either side of your body on your hips as you give him a small grin, “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

His eyes widen as he nods, “Well yeah, Tink, I think that one was very much obvious when I dragged you here.”

“I mean,” you drawl, “it was kind of cute, you know?”

As his eyes narrow, Lando walks you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall. “Well I am a cute person.”

“Oh yeah,” you let out a giggle, “the cutest.” Your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt while you look up at him to meet his eyes, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should probably get back to the party?” He mumbles, his eyes drifting as he looks around the hall.

You fist the collar of his shirt as you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, your voice lowering down for only him to hear even if it’s a deserted hallway, “You don’t have a race tomorrow.”

His eyes come back down to meet yours, “Well yes, it’s Mond– oh,” it takes a moment for him to realise what you’ve meant, and you’re thrown over his shoulder in an instant.

“Wha– Lando put me down!” You shriek, “What are you doing?”

His voice is playful as he starts walking towards the back door of the club, “We are not leaving that hotel room for a few days.”  

It doesn’t take long for you to start laughing, “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs the opposite shoulder, “but I’m your idiot.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but you can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you murmur, “Yeah, yeah you are.”

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie was scared.

The room was bright and the walls a pale blue, the AC was running combatting the summer heat. He was sat in the corner having been left in this room a few minutes ago.

"Hello! Do you want to colour with me?"

The young boy who'd been sitting at the short table by the couch had seemed to notice his presence. Eddie glared at him, he wanted to be left alone.

"Why are you angry? Do you not know how to colour?"

That was a stupid question, of course Eddie knew how to colour. Sometimes Mrs Martin across the street would watch him and she always had crayons for her grandkids.

"I know how to colour," he replied sternly not moving from his spot.

The other boy brightened at this however, "Then come colour with me! I'm not very good at staying between the lines but I'm getting better! Miss Sarah always has colours in here."

Miss Sarah had been the one to bring Eddie here, she'd told him to wait while she made a phone call. Begrudgingly, Eddie stood up and plopped down next to the boy.

"Do you come here often? You said you colour a lot?" Eddie asked picking up the big red crayon for his picture of a truck, it kinda looked like his dad's truck but that was blue. Eddie didn't want it to look like his dad's truck.

The other boy nodded, his mood seemed to dim at the question, "Yeah, I missed too many days of school this time so they called Miss Sarah. But it's not my fault the bus doesn't go by my house and it's too far to walk!"

"Doesn't your mom drive you?" This boy seemed like the kind to have a mom, his clothes didn't have any holes in them like Eddie's.

"When she's home, she's usually away with my dad though, but I'm glad when he's gone, he yells a lot."

Eddie nodded at the admission, his dad yelled a lot too.

"They took my dad away, and I don't have a mom anymore," Eddie said, his eyes began to itch.

The other boy put down his crayon and moved around the table wrapping his arms around Eddie, "It's ok, Miss Sarah will help you, I promise."

"Why hasn't she helped you?" Eddie asked, if Miss Sarah was so good why was this boy always here?

Before the boy could answer, Miss Sarah returned, "Eddie, sweetheart, your uncle is here, you'll be staying with him from now on ok?" Eddie hadn't seen his uncle in years but he could remember that his truck was a bright red colour.

"Really? Uncle Wayne is here!"

"Yep, he's already got your backpack so you can see him now."

Eddie got up quickly, he stopped at the doorway as Miss Sarah continued, "Steve, I'm sorry honey but your dad's lawyer got involved again, he's here to pick you up." Steve, at least Eddie knew his name now, nodded sadly like he'd expected this answer.

"That's ok Miss Sarah, you tried," she knelt down to him giving him a big hug, "Next time you call the number I gave you right away ok?"

"I'll try Miss Sarah, the phone isn't always on."

Miss Sarah led the boys out of the room to the waiting room. Eddie's uncle stood up immediately opening his arms which Eddie ran to.

"I'm sorry son, if I'd have known I'd have come got you years ago. Your daddy ain't hurting you no more." Eddie squeezed him tighter. As he and his uncle passed by Steve he gave him a smile and a wave.

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing this was Steven? We'll be having a long discussion about this when we get home." Steve looked like he needed that smile.

Years later, when they were grown Eddie would find a carefully folded piece of paper amongst the other knick knacks the kids had given Steve over the years. He unfolded it to find a bright red truck.

"You kept it?"

"Had to give myself hope she'd help me like she helped you, plus your dimples were adorable."

It may have taken awhile, but eventually both boys found themselves a happy home.