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unsolvedjarin · 7 months

Note

I was going through a Charles video that mentioned him blacking out in the car at some point. Since I’m a sucker for angst, I was wondering what it would be like for mentor!Seb if it were the reader in that situation instead. Perhaps the season before the one he retires? And maybe we could see more of the reader’s friendship with Charles? Only if you feel inspired by it, of course.

Either way, thank you for sharing your fics with us. They are my favorites and I’m really grateful for having found your blog.

gif by luchitohamilton

EVERY UNIVERSE.

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (charles leclerc x teammate! reader)

summary: qatar is a difficult, hot, and taxing track. that along with you having food poisoning, well…that might not end too well for you. thankfully you can always rely on sebastian and charles to be there for you.

word count: 4k

note: can you guys tell i took inspo from mark webber throwing up in his car and the qatar race this year? it was so sad to watch everyone seem so tired especially lance and logan. anyways, the plot kinda got away from me at the end, i do apologize but the seb feels were too intense 😵‍💫

content warning: car crash, mentions of throwing up, inaccurate depictions of food poisoning

part of this series but can be read without!

“Ready?”

A familiar voice makes you turn around from your pre-race preparations. “Depends on what your definition of ready is.”

Charles smiles, “I know it’s our first race in Qatar but c’mon, it isn’t that bad.”

“Isn’t that bad? I might melt in the car! Doesn’t help that I almost missed this one because of food poisoning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget that,” he teases. He couldn’t forget it, because you’d been complaining about it endlessly for the past three days. You had food poisoning because Mark Webber invited you to lunch on Thursday, and accidentally gave you something dodgy. You’ve yet to forgive the man. “Well at least you’re starting from P4. Lets you fight for P1, no?”

“Against Lewis and Charles? Please. In my dreams, maybe. Plus, you’re starting P3, asshole.” You retort, turning back around to put your balaclava on. The second it’s on your head, though, it gets pulled off, and you look behind you for the perpetrator. “Charles give it b– SEBASTIAN!”

The Aston Martin driver gives you a grin before hugging you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit. You didn’t expect to see him before the race, but the surprise was definitely welcome.

“Oh but if it was me I would have gotten scolded,” Charles mutters, but his complaints were left unheard.

“Just came to wish you luck before the race starts. P4! You’re going to get a podium, I’m sure of it,” Sebastian beams, letting you go from the hug.

“That’s what Charles said too. He was more delusionally optimistic, though. Said I was gonna win.”

“Because I believe in you! Is that so bad?” Charles complains from the side, his comment ignored once again.

“Well maybe Charles is right— you could win. Meanwhile I’m starting in the midfield, again.” Sebastian complains, groaning a little bit.

“Oh cheer up Seb, you survived Ferrari for 6 years, you’ll live.”

He lights up a bit at your joke, moving to say something before an Aston Martin mechanic shows up outside the Ferrari garage. He wasn’t allowed inside, but it was obvious he was looking for Sebastian– who also wasn’t allowed inside, yet mysteriously got in. Nothing to do with him being friends with your mechanics of course, yeah, totally not.

“Ah shoot, well it looks like they’re looking for me,” Sebastian sighs. He starts to walk away before he pauses and moves back towards you, “Hey, stay safe, okay? New track, it’s dangerous. I know we’ve done practice and quali but you can never be too careful. Plus, it’s sweltering hot. Hydrate.”

You roll your eyes fondly, “Yes, dad.”

His face scrunches up a little, “Don’t ever call me that again, I’m not that old.”

“You could barely work my Instagram the other day! All I asked was for you to open Lewis’ stories!”

“Psh, whatever. I have to go, see you after the race, yeah?” He asks, giving your arm a quick squeeze. You nod, murmuring a goodbye to him. He wishes Charles good luck too, before saving his engineer from the Ferrari mechanics blocking him.

“So he can pull your balaclava off– which you hate, by the way, let me remind you– but if I even try adjusting your helmet straps so it’s safer you slap me off?” Charles speaks up, making you break eye contact from the Ferrari garage doors.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile, “You have got to forget that. It was one time. And it was a soft slap to the shoulder!”

“The point still stands,” he retorts, making you give up on the conversation.

“Whatever, Charlie. Just get ready for the race. Stay safe, okay?” you say, putting your balaclava on again. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, a sign of good luck between the two of you. It makes you smile a little before you hop into your car.

Okay. Qatar. New track, new conditions, but still the same old you. You could do this.

The lights go off one by one, and you grip the steering wheel with anticipation like you always did. Race starts still made you nervous no matter how long you’d been racing. One light goes off…then the next…then the third…the fourth one follows…and then…

“AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

The first few laps were a breeze, maintaining your position in fourth despite Fernando being on your tail the whole time. You noticed the car was slightly hotter than usual, but decided to ignore it and chalk it up to new changes in the engine.

Around lap 25 you started to feel a bit dizzy and sick during the sharp corners, cursing yourself internally for having such bad timing with the food poisoning. “Charles is 0.200 seconds ahead, feel free to overtake,” your engineer buzzes through the radio.

“Copy,” you reply, not really paying attention, still feeling sick. You overtake Charles with ease around the outside, him not putting up much of a fight because it would have taken both of you out. Now you just had to maintain this position for…dear god, 32 laps.

“Lewis 5 seconds ahead, focus on tire degradation instead.” Your engineer’s warning goes unheard, though, as you noticed the cockpit was getting way too fucking hot.

“The car’s burning up,” you say into your radio, getting only a simple “Copy, we are checking,” back.

“Okay, Y/N there are no problems with your engines, I repeat; no problem.”

What? That’s impossible. You felt like you were melting in there. “Are you sure? Can you ask Charles if his car feels like the sun too?”

“Negative, focus on the race.”

Oh you were going to kill them one day– if they don’t kill you first. A few more laps passed in those horrible conditions before turn 5 rolled around and as you swerved your car, you started to see black spots around your vision.

That can’t be good, you think, having to close your eyes for a second before shaking your head and snapping yourself back into the race. Thankfully Charles had pitted earlier and had a 3 second gap to you. “I don’t feel too well.”

“Copy. Is it the car?”

“Well it’s definitely part of the problem.”

The next few turns were torture, your head bobbing around as you faded in and out of consciousness through the fast corners. Charles was catching up now, and you knew if you didn’t do something soon, he would pass you.

You wanted this podium. You needed it. If you got P3 you would grab P4 on driver standings.

There was a slow corner coming up that was a good overtaking spot, and so you had to defend.

As the turn came around– faster than you expected– the extreme heat of the car, your headache, sweat, food poisoning, and dizziness came together and you suddenly felt light, as if you were flying, before a jolt knocked you out of your consciousness completely.

You were out for less than a minute, but that minute counted for everything. You completely turned into Charles, him having to swerve onto the gravel just so you wouldn’t crash into each other. Your car, however, still had more speed in it, and you were headed towards the wall on the very far side of the gravel.

Thankfully, the rough rocks had shook you awake enough that you were able to swerve away from the wall extremely last minute and only take the tail and back wheel of your car out.

The next few seconds were a blur.

You still felt faint, but could hear a muffled voice headed towards you. You knew the back of your car was completely ruined and you were out of the race, and you put your helmet in your hands in disappointment. You were having such a good run before this happened. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The muffled voice running towards you was closer now, and you registered it to be Charles. He was saying something but you could barely hear him with how your ears were ringing and how the seat of the car was still hot.

The man quickly realized you weren’t hearing him, and opted to come closer and lift your visor up. “Smoke. Car. Get out!”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You pushed yourself up but barely, Charles having to lift you up by your shoulders. Once out of the car you completely collapsed on the floor, only having your teammate catch you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you say drowsily, still fighting the urge to pass out.

��Safety car is coming, stay with me now,” he replies, tapping your helmet so you stay awake. You were grateful your friend was there with you.

On track, however, Sebastian had just been informed of what went down. “What the fuck? What happened?”

“L/N completely turned into Leclerc. Driver error, push on for P9.”

Sebastian hated how his engineer sounded like a robot reporting a technical statistic. He saw the aftermath of the accident for a split second, and it didn’t look like your car was in good shape. He worries about what shape you were in. “Are they okay?”

“Safety car is coming out for L/N and to crane the car, but other than that they seem fine.”

“Injuries?”

“Please focus on the race, Sebastian.”

“INJURIES!” he shouts into his radio, annoyed. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the race until he knew you were alright.

“Uh…L/N seems to be out of it and on the floor, but they’re okay. They’ll be fine, Seb.” His engineer adds the last statement to reassure the man. He knew you meant a lot to him. Seb nods to himself in the car, carrying on with the race. The faster this finished the faster he could get to you.

The safety car came out and they all slowed down, Sebastian finally being able to take a second long look at the accident. Your car was still there, the smoke coming out of it being extinguished by a personnel. Sebastian thinks he ought to have a word with the Ferrari mechanics after the race. He then notices you, on your knees in the gravel, only being kept up by a driver he can only assume to be Charles. Sebastian thinks that should be him there supporting you, but at the same time he’s glad he wasn’t the one who you nearly crashed into. He couldn’t have it on his consciousness that he could have hit you.

“‘m sorry for ruining your race,” you mumble, still being held up by Charles. The man shakes his head, “It was ruined before that, don’t worry. My engine was acting up.”

You knew he was lying to make you feel better, his engine was completely fine. He was headed for the podium earlier, his first in a while. And you completely botched his chance to get it. The thought makes you sob a little, along with the fact that you ruined your own race.

Crying wasn’t the greatest thing to do, though, as it only made you more lightheaded. Charles notices this and takes your helmet off for you, despite your protests pre-race. You were grateful that he did, though, as the second he took your helmet and balaclava off you felt like you had a breath of fresh air for the first time.

“Better?”

You nod, unable to speak. You still felt dizzy and sick. Charles felt annoyed that the safety personnel were taking so long to get to you, waving them over to walk quicker. Squinting your eyes a little, you find them with some health personnels, and you sink a little lower into the gravel.

“God not again,” you groan, remembering the events that unfolded back in Spa. You did not need to go to the medical tent. As you attempt to get up, however, you fall back down as your vision blurred. Looks like medical tent it is again.

The rest of the race went particularly well. Lewis won the race and Fernando got his first podium since 2014– which you reminded yourself to congratulate him for once you were out of the medical tent– and Seb ended up P9, a position higher than where he started. That would usually be a mediocre result but with his shitty car, you were pretty impressed.

“Water?” A familiar voice makes you look away from the TV screen in the room. Charles sat beside your bed, holding a plastic bottle of water. You nod and take it from him, chugging the cool liquid down.

“Sorry again for ruining your race,” you say as you finish drinking. Charles shakes his head, “Stop apologizing. You passed out, that was no fault of yours.”

“You passed out!?” A loud concerned voice makes both of you snap your head towards the door of the room. Sebastian stood there, still in his race suit like the both of you, a shocked look on his face.

“Is that what happened? You passed out mid race?” He asks again, but this time softer. He walks towards your medical bed– which you insisted you didn’t need– before putting his hand on your forehead to check if you had a fever. The action makes you giggle, but Sebastian had a serious look that shut you up quickly.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “You have a bit of a fever.”

“Any other fun observations?”

Sebastian didn’t seem to be in the mood for your wit, though. “You could have been injured. Just a few meters and you could have fully hit the wall. If you were just a few seconds late waking up you would have–”

He shuts his eyes and stops himself. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened anymore. His voice got wobbly during the end of his statement, making you realize that he was stopping himself from crying. You absentmindedly sit up and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m here, Seb. And I’m fine. Look at me.”

The older driver does, slowly opening his eyes. You squeeze his hand a second time, a soft smile on your lips. “I’m here. And look, I’m completely fine. You’re not getting rid of me that quickly old man.”

Seb lets out a chuckle at that, moving to hug you tightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles into your hair. “Why did you even pass out?”

“I was already a little dizzy before getting in the car because of the heat but I tried ignoring it. The car was overheating too and it made me dehydrated, I think. My drink pouch wasn’t a lot of help either when the water was steaming hot. Plus…” you trail off, not really wanting to talk ill of Webber.

“Mark gave her food poisoning when he took her to lunch,” Charles butted in, making you give him a look. You forgot he was in the room.

“Mark? As in Webber?” Sebastian asks, Charles nodding in response. “The bastard.”

“Oh c’mon Seb, he just wanted to treat me to lunch. It’s not like he poisoned my food on purpose.”

Seb sighs deeply before agreeing, “You’re right. Sorry. I’m just– I don’t know.”

“I get it. I mean, this is my second time at the medical tent in three months. Makes you think how accident prone I am,” you joke. Sebastian laughs, and you’re glad you got the worried look in his face away.

“The one in Spa was completely your fault, but we may have to pin this one on Mark,” Seb teases. You shoot him a grin, “Yeah, we can say that.”

Before you could talk more, though, a PR person from both Ferrari and Aston Martin came in to fetch Charles and Sebastian.

“What about me?” you ask, getting up from your bed. It wasn’t like you were injured or anything, you were just a little sick and had a bit of a stomach ache. You’d already thrown up earlier, so you felt pretty normal now.

“Sorry, we have orders to keep you here.”

You scoff, “Please. What can they do if I walk out?”

Before the Ferrari PR agent could reply, though, you were already out the room. She stands there helpless, making Sebastian and Charles chuckle to each other before following you. You were always stubborn when you wanted to be.

The second you’re out of the medical tent, camera flashes overwhelm your eyes. You walk past them as you always do, but the contrast of the light to the night sky makes you a bit lightheaded again, having to hold Sebastian’s arm for support. He moves your hand from his arm to his own hand, interlocking it with yours and pull you through the crowd. There were no words needed to be said, he always knew what you needed. You’re starting to think he can read minds.

Once past the annoying lot of cameras, you make it to the media pen where at least they pestered you in a more civil way. The interviewers were all over you and Charles, looking for some inside scoop on ‘Ferrari drama.’ Turns out, the media thought you tried to purposely take Charles out a la brocedes style. Because of this you had to clarify to every person you talked to that, “No, I did not try to take Charles out on purpose. I passed out. We’re good. Yes, we’re still friends.”

Once that was all over, you headed over to the Channel 4 area to give a certain someone a piece of your mind. “Mark Webber.”

The man turns around to the mention of his full name, smiling when he notices who it is. “Y/N! Glad you’ve come and joined us! We’re on in about five minutes, we can do a segment about the crash but if you wanna talk about something else on screen that’s fine too, we can–”

“You gave me food poisoning!” you butt in. “I cannot believe you.” His coworkers give him a look, as if they were holding in a laugh at him being scolded.

Mark stands there with his mouth agape, unsure what to say. “Wasn’t that three days ago? Are you sure it’s me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Yes, I’m sure it’s you. It started three days ago, and guess who I was with when I ate something unusual three days ago? Oh right, it’s you!”

He pauses for a moment before bursting into laughter, trying to cover his mouth to no avail. “Sorry, it’s not funny that you almost crashed, I’m glad you’re safe, but– ha!– I cannot believe it was because of the dodgy Indian food!”

You gave him a shove, trying to act mad, but the smile on your face betrayed you. His laughter was contagious. “You are such an asshole.”

“Awh cheer up,” he gives you a side hug, ruffling your hair a little. “Sorry for giving you food poisoning, mate. I’ll make it up to you, whaddya think about lunch on me tomorrow?”

You escape his side hug when you hear him say that, “Absolutely not! I’m never trusting you again with food recommendations.”

The statement makes him laugh again, and you chuckle along with him. Hard to be mad at someone who didn’t do it on purpose. Sebastian walked over to the two of you, having watched the interaction from afar.

“Look who’s coming over,” Mark mumbled, making you notice Seb trying to pretend to just ‘bump’ into the two of you. “Still competitive ‘till now, eh? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to out-mentor you,” Mark says out loud, grabbing the attention of the German.

Seb tilts his head with a faux oblivious look, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabs you by the arm and ‘discreetly’ pulls you over to his side. ‘No idea’ my ass.

The Australian scoffs with a grin, “Whatever you say mate. Listen, I gotta get back because our feed is going live in a few minutes, but you two take care, alright? Nice to see you again Seb.”

“You too, Mark.” Sebastian replies, this time genuinely. While the media knew the two drivers were now on good terms, they didn’t know just how close they had gotten. The two went bowling at least once every two months just to catch up with each other, you being there for half their competitions– yes, they still competed. Apparently that sense of wanting to beat your former teammate does not go away. So far this year, Mark’s been winning.

Before Mark completely walked away, he looked back at you for a second, “Oh, and, I am happy you got out injury free from that nasty crash. Genuinely glad you’re okay. Sorry that my dodgy food contributed to your sickness.”

You wave him off, “It’s fine, Mark. It’s not like you could’ve known I would get food poisoning. Although, next time maybe check online reviews.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, waving you a goodbye as he ran to his coworkers who were already getting impatient.

You shake your head with a grin, “Well at least that’s over with.”

Sebastian slings his arm around your shoulder, “True. So want to get dinner?”

“Absolutely not. I think I’m done with food for a good while.”

“Well you have to eat something,” he insists, as you both walk through the paddock. “How about we get room service?”

“Eh, it’s late, I don’t really want a repeat of Monaco 2019.”

Monaco 2019 was when you and Seb got room service at 10pm because you didn’t check the time. Safe to say the staff weren’t very happy with that. You both felt so bad while eating that food.

“We can just get McDonalds then,” you suggest.

“McDonalds?” Charles asks, popping out from god knows where.

“Jesus, where the hell were you hiding? The atoms?” You ask.

“I was here the whole time.”

“You were not,” Sebastian comments. Charles simply shrugs, tagging along with the two of you, not caring that he was obviously third wheeling a moment. “So McDonalds?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, McDonalds. But you’re paying because you’re tagging along.”

“No fair! Sebastian is richer than me!”

You both give Charles a look at the same time. Charles thinks it’s eerie how alike the two of you were.

“Charles,” Sebastian starts, patting the Monegasque’s back with one arm with his other still slung around your shoulders. Your accident made him very clingy, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Let me phrase this as nicely as I can; you are from Monaco. You are rich.”

Charles lets out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll buy the food.”

You clap, “Fuck yeah! Food on the rich man!”

“We have the same salary in our contracts?”

“Shh, that’s not important,” you say, shushing Charles. “Food on the rich man! Although, we may have to go to the hotel right after and just get take out. I can feel Mark’s Indian food from three days ago still fighting with me.”

Charles is the one to roll his eyes this time, “I’ll get the car so we can get there faster, your highness.”

“Thank you, Lord Perceval.”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouts, already walking away to the parking lot.

That left you and Sebastian alone again, just enjoying the company of one another, walking slowly down the paddocks. There were few people now, most having gone back to their hotels to call it a night.

“You know, I’m glad I found you.”

The words make you look up at the older driver, who you find smiling at you. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean obviously we would find each other, there’s only so many drivers in Formula One. But I mean I’m glad I found you in this life.”

“Do you think we don’t find each other in other lives?”

Sebastian pauses and thinks for a second. He’s thought about the other career paths he could have taken throughout his life– other lives he could have lived. He knows there’s no logical way, but he thinks he still would have found you in those lives. The thought makes him smile to himself.

“No, I think we do.”

“Well then good. Because me too,” you reply, giving him a smile of your own. “Why did you suddenly think about it though?”

Sebastian shrugs, “I don’t know. I just felt suddenly sentimental. Feels like a chapter of my life closed but I’m not sure what or why.”

Little did he know that he would start contemplating retirement a few weeks after that.

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Whether we find each other in other lifetimes, I mean.”

Seb raises his eyebrow, him now being the one confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re both here now. Enjoying each other’s company. Why bother thinking about versions of ourselves in other universes when we’ve got each other in this one?”

Sebastian gives you the most genuine, softest smile at that. “I love you, I don’t tell you that enough.”

You scrunch your face, “Ew. Sounds like a love confession. Sorry but you’re too old for me.”

“You know what I mean. I love you but not in that way. That’s just gross,” Sebastian says, hitting your shoulder.

“Relax old man, I’m just teasing,” you giggle, trying to avoid his hit. “Love you too. Ew. Sorry, not great with verbal affection. Pretty sure that just made me throw up a bit, and that’s not even with the help of the food poisoning.”

Sebastian just shakes his head, “Okay c’mon now, Charles will be annoyed with how slow we’re walking.”

Later that night, the three of you watched a cheesy romcom while sharing a shit load of fries and chicken nuggets. As you carried on through the night you thought to yourself that despite the hardships of F1, the crashing, the disappointments, the injuries– it brought you a second family you never thought you’d have. And you wouldn’t trade it for any other universe.

Although, maybe a universe where you didn’t get food poisoning.

#sebastian vettel #charles leclerc #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #formula one #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 imagine

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

Text

Finally

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The pining is finally over

There's a hand on your waist.

You've been in Spain for nearly two months now. You've completed preseason and played your first two matches for Barcelona.

You've gotten used to Natalia and her touchiness. In her home country, she's more touchy than she ever was out of it. It's natural to have her skin against yours, holding you tightly.

You're used to her hand on your waist.

But it's not her hand on your waist right now.

The game earlier was a good one. A clean sheet for you and a seven goal win for the rest of the team. You don't know who it was but someone had floated the idea of going to the club.

You'd tried to wiggle out of it. You avoided clubs like the plague when you could. The music, the drinks, the too little space had you feeling boxed in and nervous but somehow you had been convinced.

Which was why you were sulking at the bar all night, trying to make yourself look as small as possible, which was quite a difficult task.

Natalia had been by your side all night, hyperaware of how this was absolutely not your scene. She'd held you like you love to be held and whispered straight in your ear so you could hear her over the music.

Every shift of her body had goose bumps erupting down your body and you wish for her presence now as someone else reaches to touch your waist.

"I recognise you," This newcomer says," You play for Barcelona, right?"

There's an edge to her voice that you can't place and she looks up at you from under her lashes. Her fingers gently dance up and down your waist.

You don't like it.

It doesn't feel like how Natalia touches you and you don't like it at all.

Talia disappeared off to the toilet a few minutes ago, promising that it would only take a second.

A second was all it took for this new girl to come up to you.

"Er...yes..."

She giggles like you've said something funny but you don't think you have. She steps further into your space and you wonder if it's impolite to back up a few paces.

It's different in Spain to Sweden. You wonder if everyone is as touchy as Natalia is, even if it's toward a complete stranger.

"I'm a big fan," The girl is practically purring, her voice dropping low and you have to crane your head down closer to hear her over the heavy bass of the music.

Her hand skates up to your bicep, squeezing the muscle there.

"You're so strong," She says, trailing her finger up and down your arm," What are you drinking? Can I buy you a drink?"

People in Spain are very friendly, you think and you look down at your glass.

"I've just got a coke."

She pouts, batting her eyes at you as she somehow steps even closer. "Just a coke? You've just come out of a big win. Don't you want to let loose a little?"

You let out a few awkward chuckles, eyes darting around desperately in search of Natalia. "I don't drink during the season."

"That's so disciplined. You're so disciplined, so in control of yourself. Are you always so in control of yourself?"

Somehow, she's pressed herself against you. Your chests are pushed together as she looks at you, a half-smirk present on your face. You don't like this at all but she's Spanish so you assume it's another one of those cultural things that confuse you.

You don't want to shove her away and be impolite but you don't want her touching you anymore, skin crawling.

A hand lands on your waist again but you recognise it this time.

Natalia hooks her chin over your shoulder and stares down at this new girl.

"Can we help you?"

The girl moves to speak, to say what you don't know but it's clear that Natalia doesn't care because she gently nudges you to move.

You relocate closer to the doors and Talia keeps glancing over at the other girl, face set firmly into a frown.

"Why did you let her do that?" She asks, her eyes not straying away from the girl at the bar," Touch you like that? Touch you like how I touch you?"

"She was just being friendly," You say. Your brow furrows and you're sure that your little crinkle has appeared.

Natalia scoffs, swirling her drink around angrily in her glass. "She wasn't being friendly. She was flirting." She spits out the last word like it personally offends her.

"She was?"

Finally, Talia cuts her gaze to you. Her features soften slightly as she looks at you. She downs her drink in one go. "You're so oblivious," She says. The words are soft and low and barely audible over the loud music but you still hear them perfectly.

"What?"

Talia's looking at you in disbelief, shaking her head before she's got your waist in her hands and she's pulling you closer until her lips ghost your ear.

"You're so oblivious. I couldn't believe it at first but it's true. There's so many girls trying to throw themselves at you. That girl from earlier, girls at matches. They touch you in ways that aren't friendly and you jump through hoops trying to convince yourself it's platonic. You're so oblivious."

Ever so slightly, her hands tighten on your waist and she pulls back to look at you.

She isn't that much taller than you so you're practically at eye level as she stares.

Her eyes flick from your gaze down to your lips and then back up at your eyes again.

That's when everything comes crashing into you.

All those hugs, those private 'friend' dates to coffee shops and restaurants, those naps you took on her sofa together.

"You don't even know," Talia continues, like she doesn't even care about the bomb she's just dropped on you," I think that's even worse. You can't even let them down easy but you just don't know. It's infuriating."

Your heart's in your throat or, maybe, it's in Natalia's hands because you can't tear your eyes away from her.

She's still holding your waist, her hands familiar and welcome. Her gaze is hypnotic and your chests rise and fall in sync with each other.

"Natalia-" You say before breaking off. Your eyes dip down to her lips, barely even a glance but you know she catches you looking. "Talia...I...I think I'm in-"

"I know."

She kisses you like you're the only two people in the room. It's different to the kiss you shared as teenagers when you were scared and unsure.

Her lips mould against yours easily and everything else blends away until it's just you and her.

"Natalia," You breathe out when she pulls away," Do you...Do you want to go on a date with me?"

Talia laughs, pecking your lips. "Ask what you actually want to ask, mi vida. You will like the answer."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes."

You go home with Talia in that moment, completely forgetting that you had told your mothers you would call tonight.

#hardersson x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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starkwlkr · 1 month

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neeeeed a seb or kimi fic where the reader is a driver plsss

little lies | kimi räikkönen

requests are closed

Over the years, you had a habit of lying to the media. It all started during your first season of f1 when a reporter had asked if your parents had attended the race to which you replied that you never met your parents. It was soon revealed that both parents were in the garage watching you overtake and land a podium finish. They weren’t mad since you had done it before in school lots of times, they actually found it funny.

The internet had definitely caught on to your constant lies, some even making compilations of all of them.

The media wasn’t the only ones being lied to by you. The other drivers were also victims. You remember one time when Mark and Fernando gave you a cake for your birthday then when you ate it, you started to cough. “Does this have gluten?” You asked.

“I think so?” Mark said unsure.

“I’m allergic to gluten!”

It took about two seconds for the Red Bull driver to start panicking.

“Oh god, she’s going to die!”

“Mark, shut up! I was joking.”

Fernando wished he had a camera to capture the moment Mark thought you were going to pass away.

“One day you’re going to say the truth and none of us will believe you.” Fernando said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Yeah, sure.

But as always, you should’ve listen to Fernando.

It wasn’t until the 2014 when you and Kimi started to date. It started with one date to a drive in movie, that very night you had kissed Kimi, one thing led to another and soon you and Kimi were dating. The first person you told was some friends from your hometown, which of course didn’t believe you.

“Fuck, the old man was right.” You told yourself one day when you realized that all those years of lying finally came to haunt you.

It was after the driver’s briefing when you couldn’t take it anymore. Several drivers were making plans to go out for dinner and they had invited you and Kimi, but you had other plans since you were going on a date.

“I can’t, I have a date.” You said. Then you heard laughs scattered around the room. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Mate, you can just say you don’t want to. Last time you lied saying you were sick then we found you at a casino.” Jenson said.

“Well this time it’s real, I have a date so I can’t go.” You replied. “And it only happened once!”

“Twice.” Kimi said from beside you. It was true, you had said no to going out for dinner another time because you were planning a trip to visit Kimi’s family.

“Oh, I guess it did happen twice. But this time it’s real.”

“Sure. Who’s the lucky guy who’s putting up with your lying mouth?” Jenson laughed.

“Kimi.” You said causally.

Again, you received laughs as a response. So you got up from your seat. “Later, losers.” You said and gave Kimi a quick kiss before you left the room.

The iceman stared at you adoringly as you left. It was clear to everyone that you were telling the truth. Kimi noticed how quiet the room had gotten and looked at the other drivers. “What?”

“She was telling the truth?” Sebastian questioned.

Kimi nodded. “You don’t listen.” He got up from his seat. He could care less if they thought he was also lying, he had a date to prepare for with the love of his life.

#kimi raikkonen x reader #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x you #kr7 #kimi raikkonen imagine #f1 driver!reader #kimi raikkonen one shot

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our-happygirl500-fan · 1 year

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So I’ve been digging around the Turtlepedia wiki, going through old tweets from the team who worked on Rise & watched videos covering the scrapped Rise episodes so this is basically a post going through some of the scrapped season 2 stuff for Rise that I have found:

Rise was first written under the basis of there being three seasons

JJ Conway’s twitter posted an episode guide which showed some of the episodes that were expected to be in season two:

As you can see ‘The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle’ was one of the last episode that was released that fit the original plan for Season 2 before most of the episodes got scrapped or changed & the Rise team had to rush to finish the series.

Some of the episodes we know the synopsis of while others still remain a mystery the scrapped episodes were listed in order as:

Wedding Smashers:

This episode involves Mikey & Raph going undercover as pretend villains ‘Shady Bug & Dr Rude’ to sneak into Ghost Bear’s Wedding after they accidentally gifted Ghost Bear one of Donnie inventions (a black hole generating toaster) as a wedding gift that they then need to retrieve.

The episode was supposed to introduce the character Ghostpepper, Ghostbear’s fiancé

The episode also brings up some continuity in having the characters be aware that Meatsweats has been missing since the episode Pizza Puffs where he got kidnapped by ‘Shadow fiend’ at the end, I wish this episode hadn’t gotten scrapped because it shows that the Turtles are aware that their enemies are going missing when Big Mama starts kidnapping them for her Battle Nexus New York.

This episode most likely would have shown Ghostbear be kidnapped at the end like how Meatsweats was kidnapped at the end of Pizza Puffs & Hypno was kidnapped at the end of The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle.

Warren Stone 2:

Donnie: Stand back total stranger we are fighting our greatest foe

April kept the arm that she cut off Warren in ‘Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree’ & the arm ended up growing into a second Warren Stone, despite April raising this second worm in secret Warren Stone Two ends up becoming the ‘turtles greatest foe’ after Warren Stone Two captures the Turtles, April & the original Warren Stone team up to save the Turtles & defeat Warren Stone 2

Parts of the episodes storyboards can be found on youtube, a running gag appears to be Mikey referring to Warren as ‘that other worm guy whose not Warren two’

T-Hex

The episode T-Hex covers Mikey desperately wanting a robotic toy but Splinter saying no & Mikey having to sneak the electronic pet into the lair. Though the robot is adorable Mikey learns that it’s not as innocent as it seems & is actually a trap set by Baxter, the episode would have introduced Baxter in an Albearto mech

Psyched Out

Shred Dead Redemption

After the events of Manny Unhappy Returns the Foot Shack has shut down, Foot Lieutenant & Foot Brute open up a cupcake shop selling flaming cupcakes called Fire and Icing which Raph wants to investigate

The episode would have involved the Turtles doing a stakeout, a chase scene & the Foot clan putting themselves at odds with Big Mama as they investigate if her new champion ‘Shadow fiend’ has a connection to the missing Shredder.

The Island of Dr. Noe

Dr. Noe, the evil dentist from Todd Scouts ends up kidnapping Raph & Leo ends up having to lead the team in order to rescue Raph & stop the evil dentist.

Something interesting about this episode is when the Rise team were discussing this scrapped episode it was revealed that Leo wasn’t supposed to become the Leader at the end of Season 2, that’s right the iconic ‘Blue You Are The Leader Now’ wasn’t originally supposed to happen, instead Leo was supposed to be pushed into roles where he had to take charge throughout season 2 & the season would end with Raph & Leo as co-leaders.

Battle Nexus NYC (a full 20 minute episode) which was used in the series as Battle Nexus New York, the main difference between the original plan & the episode we got is that originally instead of Cassandra taking the Shredder from Big Mamma, the Grand Nexus Hotel was supposed to have fallen into the Hidden City with both Big Mamma & Shredder leaving The Foot to have to venture into the hidden city to try & retrieve the Shredder.

Toddler Mutant Ninja Turtles

A Mikey focused episode where a ‘bank robbing immortal jellyfish’ zaps Raph, Leo & Donnie, turning them into Turtle Tots & making Mikey the oldest brother for the episode. The episode is said to be inspired by the 1987 series episode ‘Adventures in Turtle Sitting’

Dog Dale Afternoon

April’s friend Dale who we first see in ‘Hypno! Part Deux’ gets turned into a werewolf by a witch & Donnie & April team up to try & turn him back to normal

Bee Story

Goyles Just Want To Have Fun

Huginn & Muninn reunite with Draxum, only to be confused when they find him working as a lunch server. Not wanting Huggin & Muninn to know how soft he’s gotten since his redemption Draxum begs the Turtles to help him look good in front of his former minions.

Rampagin’ Raph

Mikey & Leo have become more skilled in using their mystic powers making Raph feel left behind so Raph tries to practice in secret only to end up stuck in his giant form, Raph goes to to Draxum for help who ends up separating Raph & his mystic projection however the mystic projection ends up rampaging through the city becoming bigger & more powerful with the more things it destroys leaving Raph to have come clean to his brothers about what happened so they can save city.

Hot Thrash

Gourd Almighty

Donnie grows a giant pumpkin for competition & has to have his brothers help him find a way to get the giant pumpkin out of the lair

Two pages of the episodes script were posted on Ron Corcillo’s twitter

A Spiders Web Widens

Hidden City Heroes

Gone Goat

Draxum walks out after having a fight with the family but then gets kidnapped by the Foot. While attempting to rescue Draxum, the family has no choice but to resolve their issues relating to him.

The Key (a full 20 minute episode)

Karai was supposed to be introduced in this episode, she was supposed to have a larger role training the Turtles & with the family spanning around 10 episodes but due to the Rise team rushing to finish the series most of Karai’s episodes were scrapped.

The rest of the episode titles were not finalised however Ron Carney’s twitter posted a schedule board where possible episode titles can be seen.

Though Ron Carney also admitted that some of these titles are fake, the episode April Showers Mayhem Flowers might be real as the team admitted to wanting to do an episode about Mayhem & their status as an agent of the Council of Heads

The Return of Monty Moose is also probably real as we can see Monty Moose appear in the Rise Movie’s scrapped intro so the team probably had plans for the character in season 2

Monty Moose is a toy line only character from the 1987 series so Rise introducing him as an actual character is kind of cool

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt

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bau-muffin · 2 months

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“It’s All Wrong But It’s Alright”

Summary: You and Aaron Hotchner have an interesting relationship. He’s your boss, and you’re one of the agents underneath him.

What happens when you get triggered during a case, and comforting you leads to something more?

Word count: 6,006

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Reader

Read it on AO3

mentions: SA, CSA, it’s implied that reader has a history of CSA, oral sex, fingering

Hotch knew as well as anybody that this case would emotionally weigh heavy on the team, maybe even more than it usually did.

They had successfully apprehended Monica Menzel and her sixteen year old son Jacob, but certainly not before uncovering disturbing details that would more than likely haunt the team for the rest of their lives.

The victims, all of them, were below the age of nine. There were no preferences in boys or girls or hair color, not even eye color, but they were all tortured and sexually assaulted in the same exact way, and then their bodies disposed of and covered with a tarp, as though in remorse. As it turned out, Jacob was losing control and abusing these children while Monica disposed of them quietly.

It made Hotch doubt whether good in humanity ever existed, especially when he thought of Jack waiting at home for him to come back so he could tell him all of the shenanigans he had gotten up to at his Aunt Jessica’s and regale him with the details of classroom drama.

And, he figured, the rest of the team were thinking similar thoughts, their minds all engulfed with the children in their lives and how it only takes a split second for every sense of safety to become compromised.

But as the team left the precinct, neatly separated into SUVs, and caravanned back to the hotel, Hotch looked over at you in the passenger seat and wondered who you were thinking of. When he had opened the door for you, you’d sat down and not even murmured a “thank you,” like you usually did, instead looking as though you were a million miles away. He knew something was turning inside your head. It didn’t take a profiler to see it.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he flipped up the blinker to make a turn.

“I’m exhausted,” you replied, almost too quickly. “We’ve been up and at it with this case since five this morning, and I didn’t sleep very well last night. Probably didn’t get more than three hours

in total.”

When Garcia had booked hotel rooms for you guys, she disclosed that since the town was at the peak of tourist season, she couldn’t book enough rooms for everybody to have a room of their own; which meant that two agents would have to take one for the team and share. You and Hotch had drawn the short straws, but despite being a subordinate and superior sharing a room, it hadn’t been awkward at all. You each had a double bed and made yourselves at home.

Still, he was all too aware that you had tossed and turned into the wee hours of the morning, and more than ever he wished he could have assuaged whatever was bothering you.

“Was the bed uncomfortable for you?” Hotch asked casually, his eyes still on the road.

“Not at all. I was just… thinking, is all. You know how it can be.”

He nodded solemnly, his lips forming a solid line. “I do know.”

You hummed an affirmative noise before turning to look outside the window, though there wasn’t much to look at since it was already almost dark and most of the street lights were still off.

Hotch wished you would open up to him. Heck, even before, you didn’t mind opening up to him, even just a little. But now it was like a barrier loomed around you and your thoughts, forbidding anyone who dared approach.

“For most of this case, I found myself thinking of Jack,” he confided, glancing over at you.

“Yeah? I don’t doubt it. Having kids when you’re in this line of business… it can’t be easy.” For a moment, your tone sounded open and concerned, and he sensed your eyes on his side profile.

“It’s not at all,” Hotch said quietly with his eyes still on the road ahead of him. “It makes me wish I could take Jack somewhere and hide him away from the ugly side of humanity. But… I’m all too aware that’s not feasible, nor is it healthy. So, we persevere together, and all I can hope to do is guide him until he’s ready to step out into the world on his own.”

“I imagine he’s already seen too much of how ugly humanity can be,” you said gently.

“He has. There’s no hiding it from him now,” he admitted softly.

“Once you’ve seen it, heard it… you can’t go back from it. Even that young.”

Something in your voice made him glance your way intensely. Was it… wistfulness? Melancholy?

It was quiet for a few moments as he focused on driving while you turned back to the window and continued staring out. He figured he couldn’t force you to confide in him, so he may as well give you space, but he was still worried; probably more than he’d like to confess.

As soon as you entered the hotel room, you beelined straight for your suitcase. “I’m going to take a shower first, if that’s alright with you?”

Hotch nodded as he began plugging up his devices on his side of the shared side table. “Perfectly fine with me. It’ll give me time to call Jack before we settle down for the night. Take your time.”

You began gathering up your clothes and necessities and toted them to the bathroom, the door closing behind you softly. Hotch had never wanted to wiggle his way into your brain more and find out what was going on in there.

He’s always known you had a soft spot for children, and he was first hand testament to it, just witnessing how you’d interacted with Jack every time Jessica brought him by the BAU for a visit or when he would bring Jack for an event at Rossi’s—you’d always taken time to ask him how school was, you’d ask about some project or another he had told you about before, and often times you’d reach out to ruffle his hair fondly. When he had read up on your files during the hiring process, he also learned you had nieces and nephews, and from how you spoke of them, you seemed to love them and had a good relationship with them; probably a tad bit protective, especially considering what you’d seen on this job.

But something about the way you were withdrawing and reserved now suggested this was personal, much more personal than you wanted to let on.

Still, Hotch felt like it was none of his business, and picked up his phone to call Jack.

By the time he finished an exuberant conversation with his son and Jessica, Hotch heard your blow dryer running. (you always kept an extra blow dryer in your go bag. Derek once suggested you take it out to have more room for clothes, and Hotch thought you’d form daggers with your eyeballs and throw them at him. (Derek never brought it up again.)

Fifteen minutes later, you walked in with your dirty clothes and stuffed them into a mesh bag in your go bag; and Hotch felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

He hardly ever saw you dressed this casually. Your hair was down, fluffy at the crown from blow drying it, and wearing a large oversized t-shirt and shorts, as well as colorful fuzzy socks on your feet. But your face—it made him stop cold. Your eyelashes were wet with freshly shed tears, your eyes were rimmed with redness, and your cheeks were spackled with flush.

Hotch said your name, but he was interrupted.

“Hotch… just—hold me,” you said pleadingly, your voice cracking slightly.

Wordlessly, Hotch opened up his arms to you while he was sitting on the bed, and you fell into him, burying your head into his chest while your body spasmed with sobs.

He didn’t even care if you got snot on his dress shirt. Whatever comfort you needed that he could afford you, he wanted to give it to you. A washable shirt was nothing compared to the weight you seemed to be holding inside.

Soothingly, Hotch rubbed your back while his chin rested on your head and whispered, “Hey, hey.”

You continued sobbing, and tentatively his hand moved up to your hair, stroking it softly. Soon, the shaking and spasming ceased, and you just leaned into him, and the first breath you exhaled seemed like it released twenty pounds of burden from you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently, his hand roving politely over your back. He couldn’t help but think about how the cotton shirt under his hand was the only thing separating him from your skin; probably just as soft and gently dewy if your face was any indicator, but he pushed it away as soon as the thought came—now was not the time.

You were quiet for a moment.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Hotch said quietly, “but I know that talking about it… it can help, getting it out in the open.”

“I don’t want to burden you, Hotch. This case was heavy for all of us,” you all but whispered, almost muffled by his shirt.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed you shutting down after a case. Especially pertaining to child abuse. I’ll respect your privacy, but you need to know you don’t have to bear this on your own.”

You chewed your lip as tears threatened to spill over again, contemplating your options. Lie to your boss and evade the question? Pretend everything was okay? Maybe tell him you’re emotional because you’re on your period?

Finally, you lifted your head away from his chest and looked at him. It was almost breathtaking how much comfort and care you found in Hotch’s face, and it sent a shiver down your back as the kindness in his warm brown eyes melted you.

“Hotch…”

“Aaron,” he urged softly, “call me Aaron. Don’t you think we might be beyond work nicknames now?”

“Aaron,” you tested out the name on your tongue like a foreign object as your tone lowered, “I… I have a history with…. sexual abuse.”

“It’s not in your file,” Hotch said, concern creasing his face, and a little bit of his professionalism seeping in.

You shook your head. “It wouldn’t be. I had it sealed away.”

“But-“

“I knew it would affect how people, especially employers in our field, would look at me, Hotch,” you said, “especially as a woman. I… I’m considered weaker emotionally, at least from the stereotypical level anyways. Swimming with this upstream in my public record would’ve held me back. I hold up, and I save my breakdowns for when I get home. And in my defense, this is only the second one I’ve had since I started working at the BAU.”

Hotch looked at you, his brows slightly furrowed. “That… makes sense. But I still wish you had told me- or at least one of us- about this. We could have helped you reach out to resources. You… didn’t deserve to carry all of this by yourself, especially when you know your cases might trigger you.”

“It’s taken me a while to trust anybody with this,” you said softly.

He’s silent for a moment, his hand stilling while it was smoothing your hair. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you every day in the field with my life, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminded you, “You do. But… do you trust me with your past?”

“Yes,” you murmured.

Silence fell between you as you both seemed to become aware of what was happening in that moment.

Your head was on his chest, as it moved up and down with every breath. One of his hands was in your hair while the other was resting on your back. Your hands were splayed on his shoulders. His lips were only mere inches from the crown of your head. Your legs were resting between his. You were in his arms and the shiver of sadness that came with crying was being chased away by the warmth of them around you.

The temptation on Hotch’s part to kiss your head, your nose, your lips, it was almost surmountable. But he didn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability, or his position as your superior. He couldn’t do that to you.

So, you did what any subordinate would spontaneously do when they’re a little fatigued by his politeness- you reached up and kissed his face, only missing the corner of his mouth by half of an inch.

He said your name almost in a gasp.

It was such a simple thing, but it shifted the world underneath you both.

“I’m your superior,” Hotch reminded as much to himself as to you, “we can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“You’re emotionally vulnerable right now. I’m your boss and you’re my subordinate, so there’s also a power imbalance. And I- I’m so much older than you. You could have any man you want, you don’t have to settle for me.” His voice cracked almost minutely when he mentioned settling, but you heard it.

You scoffed as you lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not settling, Aaron. I don’t know who told you that nonsense, but no one is settling by… by being with you. And… I may be emotionally vulnerable, yes,” you admitted before your tone turned soft, “but I’ve… I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

Hotch felt surprise jolt through him and he tried to lean up a little more even with you on top of him, though his hand still cradled the small of your back. “Oh, really?”

“Are you really so surprised?”

“You’re just…” he struggled to find the right way to say what he meant, “you could have anybody you want, you know? I’m a middle aged man headed towards being over the hill, with emotional baggage, and a young son.”

“You’re also emotionally constipated,” you said with a small smile tugging your lips.

He chuckled quietly, and you felt the vibration of it from his chest. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“It means I’m aware of your shortcomings, Hotch. Or what others may view as shortcomings.”

There was another beat of silence, then things started moving like a whirlwind.

He rolled you over so that you were underneath him, and his nose rubbed the side of your face as he lowered his mouth to your ear. “You really need to start calling me Aaron during these intimate times, don’t you think?”

You gulped as you looked up at him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Hotch asked quietly, “I would feel… so guilty if you ended up… regretting this later. It’s okay to take a bit longer to think about it.”

There was a hint of passion in your voice as you tilted your chin up to him. “You don’t know how long I have been thinking about this, Aaron Hotchner.”

That lit a fire in him that he didn’t know he had a wick for, and his hands slid over the sides of your face as he tilted your head up towards him, inspecting the flush that had formed on your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful. I’ve always been aware of it, did you know that?”

You opened your mouth to answer, and he covered your lips with his own, feasting on you like a man starved. It wasn’t long before his tongue asked entrance, and you granted it, his tongue grazing against yours.

You weren’t sure how you expected Hotch to kiss. Passionately? Without a doubt. Fervently? Definitely. But you didn’t realize “reverently” and “frenzied” were adjectives that could be used together, and yet it was perfect.

You hadn’t realized you were doing it, but you were grinding against him, his slacks rubbing against the cotton of your shorts, eliciting moans from him that you’d never heard before, but felt like music to your ears as it sent a shiver down your spine. In response, his hands slid to your breasts, his thumb rubbing against your nipples through your thin T-shirt in gentle circles as the rest of his hands cupped your breasts.

“Someone didn’t wear a bra,” Hotch said almost cheekily.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to get felt up tonight,” you laughed.

“I suppose not. You really are beautiful, you know that? And seeing you under me… I never thought you could get prettier, but apparently it’s possible.”

“Aaron…”

Hotch continued rubbing your nipples, gently, but with enough friction that it shot pleasure through you. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Aaron.”

“Do you mind doing me the honors of removing my shirt? Please?” You asked.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, kissing your forehead before he gently set about removing your shirt, shimmying it over your head before tossing it unceremoniously on the AC unit under the window.

You watched nervously as his eyes roved over your chest, almost feeling the burn of his gaze on your skin. But then he began leaning down and kissing a path from your collarbones, down to your belly button.

“Sweetheart, your breasts are magnificent,” he whispered before pressing kisses to each of them, “they’re just right for me.”

“Are you so easy to please?”

Hotch kissed your breasts again in answer, slower this time, as he nipped and sucked on the skin, leaving hickies in his wake. He chuckled to himself as he looked at his handiwork.

“I truly hope you weren’t planning on wearing a low cut shirt tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t, but I guess you eliminated that choice for me.”

He smiled, almost deviously, if you could believe he was capable of it. “You could, but I think you would have to answer some… piqued interests. But I also think… one part of you wants to show everyone, that you were marked, by me. And…” his voice lowered, “I can’t say I hate the idea of it.”

Before you could form a reply, he inched down towards your nipples and took one into his mouth, sucking on them gently. He wasn’t at all surprised when he felt your fingers thread into his hair, tugging at them the more he played with your nipple with his tongue.

Before he switched to the other nipple, he looked up at you, almost ironically puppy dog-like. “Are you enjoying this, my dove?”

“Yes,” you panted, “I’ve… I’ve never had this done to me before.”

He froze where he was. “None of your other partners did this for you?”

You shook your head.

“Amateurs,” Hotch muttered to himself before licking your nipple, wetting it.

Before long, he was back at it, sucking your other nipple, far less gentle than the way he had started, and his hand squeezing and kneading the first breast.

“Dear god-”

He completely unlatched from your breast to smirk at you. “I’m afraid God has nothing to say in this little foray.”

Impatiently, you reached up to unbutton his button up shirt feverishly, your fingers clumsily clashing into each other. Hotch chuckled at your excitement.

“You’re so cute when you’re eager,” he murmured to you, his own fingers reaching down to assist you in unbuttoning his shirt.

“Do you know how often I’ve wondered what you look like under here?” You asked as your eyes watched more and more of his chest expose.

“I’m not exactly… Derek in terms of body shape,” he confided. “And maybe at one point, I would have rivaled him. But I’m afraid my abs have… congealed a bit, especially since I became a dad.” He unbuttoned the last button.

“If you think that will deter me one bit, you have another thought coming, Mr. Hotchner,” you said sassily as you began pushing the shirt off of his shoulders. It was your turn to marvel at him and his body- his arms were toned, his chest had polite smatterings of hair and, much like Hotch in every other facet of his life, a happy trail that could only be described as neat and tidy. He was right that he wasn’t built like Derek, but in every line of him, you could tell he held incredible strength even for the average middle aged man, even if he had an adorable hint of tummy that you wanted to press kisses on. The scars from Foyet did not escape you, and you respectfully reached to trace them with your fingers, a ghost of pressure. To know that he endured that, and thrived in spite of it… you felt soft towards this stern looking man.

“You’re sure you still… want a piece of this?” He said almost awkwardly with a smile.

“If I wasn’t sure before, I know I am now,” you assured him as you kissed the underside of his jaw, “you’re beautiful.”

“I’m… beautiful?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me no one’s called you beautiful before?”

“Handsome, sure. Beautiful… no.”

“Well that’s just sad,” you pressed a kiss to one of his pecs, “because it’s the goddamn truth.”

You’d never seen him blush before, but you smirked with satisfaction when he turned red from his ears down to his neck.

“Are you ready to take this to the next level then?” Hotch asked, his hands moving down to the waistband of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings while he waited for your confirmation.

“Absolutely.”

With shaking hands, he began pulling down your shorts, tugging them down until he could discard them across the room, leaving you in your cotton underwear.

“You’re so wet already,” he said with a small smirk as his fingers touched the crotch of your underwear, hooking it to the side before ultimately deciding to just take it off entirely, as He quickly yanked it off and sling shot it.

“Those were my nice pair,” you mumbled, though you were thrilled at being completely exposed to him, feeling the crisp hotel air against you.

“I’ll buy you some more if they’re ruined,” he promised as he moved further down your body.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” Hotch said as he began rubbing your clit. You squirmed but you couldn’t stop the moan that sprang from you.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praised you, “the noises you make are almost provocative, sweetheart.”

“You’re too good,” you said breathlessly, the tightness in your stomach overwhelming you. Hotch chuckled as he kissed the side of your neck, careful not to leave a mark, knowing you’ll still have to ride on the jet home with the rest of the team tomorrow.

“I’m not sure if that speaks well of me or poorly of the guys you’ve been with before, sweetheart, we’re just getting started here,” he deflected slightly. He continued rubbing your clit, the circular motion sending jolts of what felt like electricity through your body.

Your hands instinctively reached to the side and gripped the sheets when he began sliding a finger in tentatively, his thumb on your sensitive nerves now, keeping the circular motion going. His eyes searched yours, those eyes slightly darkened by warm lust.

“Is this good?” Hotch asked.

“God, yes,” you bit out.

He hummed a noise of acknowledgment while he slid in a second finger, emitting a moan from you.

“You’re so tight, darling,” he murmured, “am I going to need to stretch you out a little before we get to the main event?”

“It’s been a while,” you admitted.

“How long?”

“Before I moved to Quantico.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, surprise registering on his face. “Baby, that was… at least over a year ago.”

“I’m so busy with work that I hardly have time to meander into the dating scene. Haven’t really wanted to either.”

“Maybe we could talk to your boss about that,” he said teasingly.

You were about to respond when you felt his third finger slide in, and you took a deep breath.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed into your ear, his voice low with desire, “taking me so well while I fill you up with my fingers, and taking those deep breaths.”

His fingers pumping in and out of you made you gasp and grasp the bed sheets even tighter between your fingers. You hadn’t, in a million years, thought you would be in a position where Aaron Hotchner was between your legs, pleasuring you with his fingers. Those fingers you had studied for months, fiddling with pens while he listened to others talk, and fantasized what they could do to you. Now you were feeling it, you were finally feeling what exactly those fingers will and can do to you- and the answer was “make you feel fucking amazing.”

The combination of his fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit was too wonderful to describe. You could write a sonnet and it still wouldn’t completely encapsulate how you felt.

“I think I’m ready,” you whispered.

“Are you sure, baby?” He murmured, “we don’t have to hurry. If it’s been awhile for you, then I think we should take our time. You deserve to be completely ready and comfortable.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” you said, glancing down at where you could feel his erection against your leg. Hotch blushed slightly.

“This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is all about you. And you make me feel good when you feel good, making all those pretty sounds for me, knowing I’m the one who makes you feel like that, and that I’m the one with my fingers in your pretty pussy.”

You shivered again, but you bit your lip as you looked down at him.

“I still need to put my mouth on you, baby. Do you want that? To feel my lips on you while my tongue finds your swollen clit?”

“I… you don’t have to, I know some guys don’t-“

“Don’t tell me you think it’s an action of sacrifice on my part,” he scoffed with a smile, “like I said before, I want to make you feel good. I would be honored to eat you out, darling.”

Your cheeks were pink from the slightly crass words. “I didn’t even know you knew-“

“Just how old do you think I am?” Hotch rolled his eyes. He gently slid his fingers out of you and you barely stifled a groan as you felt the loss.

“So do I have your permission?” He asked, kissing your neck again.

“Yes sir.”

He smirked up at you as he bent his head towards your core. “You’re calling me sir now?”

“Terrible habit.”

Feeling Hotch’s lips on you was like nothing you’d ever felt before, but the moment his tongue began lapping at your clit, rolling it around and sucking on it, you don’t know where you went. Everything melted away, and all you felt was him.

Occasionally his eyes would flit up from his task and gauge your reaction, but every time, he knew you were more than satisfied. You grasped the bed-sheets tighter still, your head tilted back as a loud moan you didn’t realize you were making left your lips.

As his tongue searched relentlessly, hitting nerves you forgot you had, your legs jerked in response. Without even looking, his hand grasped your hips, stilling them firmly.

“Oh my god-“ you groaned.

Hotch moved away from you, his lips and chin covered in your juices, but a devious smile alighted on his face. “I take it that you liked it?”

You panted a few breaths. “A little.”

“Ah, yes, a little is what got your cum all over my face- imagine if it was a lot?” he chuckled as he moved himself up your body to kiss your lips, your juices meeting your tongue.

“Aaron, I…” you hesitated for a moment. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah?”

“I think… I think I want to do this again. When we get home in Quantico. And… I want to save the… you know, actual sex, for then. In one of our actual beds. Am… am I being too presumptuous?”

He kissed your forehead. “You would’ve been a fool if you thought I was going to risk it all for a one time thing, sweetheart. Of course I want this again, you’re not being presumptuous.”

Hotch moved to climb off of her, but you grabbed him by the belt loop with a hooked finger and a raised eyebrow, emboldened by your arousal.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked.

He chuckled. “As much as I loved eating you out, I can’t live with your juice on my face, dove. And… I figured you were signaling to me that we were done for the night, so I was going to clean you up.”

“We’re not done.”

“No?” He raised an eyebrow.

She glanced pointedly at his erection, tenting his slacks.

“Oh… darling, we don’t have to-”

“I know we don’t. I want to.”

Hotch leaned back on his knees. “Darling, I-“

“I hate having to keep interrupting you, sir, but perhaps losing the slacks will help us to continue this conversation.”

He reached down for his belt buckle with a laugh. “Bossy, aren’t we?”

Within a few seconds, he had unbuckled and his slacks beside the bed. Through his boxers, the outline of his dick was prominent, and you felt your mouth salivate at the sight of it.

“You did this to me, baby,” Hotch said softly.

You blushed, still looking at him, but your hands reached for the waistband of his boxers, and inched them lower.

“Damn, sweetie, do you have a permit to conceal this large of a weapon?” you drawled as you stared eagerly at his dick, the pre-cum gathering at the tip of it as it stood tall.

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink. “This one and a few others.”

“How do you want us to do this?”

Hotch hummed. “On your knees on the floor, sweetheart. Do you need a pillow?”

You clambered off the bed and got on your knees, waiting for him to follow suit.

He stood in front of you, almost hesitant, but the moment you gingerly grasped his dick, something in his eyes snapped into action, and his hands grasped your hair, tugging at the roots slightly.

You licked him from balls to tip, and under your touch, you could feel him shudder.

Experimentally, you swirled your tongue around the tip, then eased it into your mouth until you felt him hit your cheek

“Fuck-” Hotch rasped, his grip in your hair getting tighter, “you’re teasing me, doll.”

You looked up at him with arched eyebrows, deviousness reflecting in the glint of your eyes.

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that? All those times we were on cases and you’d do those cute little mannerisms of yours. You’d tap your finger to your chin, or you’d part your lips when you would lift your head to look at something. Or when you would drink your coffee and widen your eyes at me over your mug. You’re just- fuck.”

Of course, that sudden expletive was because you’d mischievously pulled a bait and switch and taken him all the way to the back of your throat, opening up wider for him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed, “sweetie, you’re marvelous, I- shit.”

You looked innocently up at him, although the slight shift in movement almost made you choke.

“That will teach you, you cheeky- oh god, I don’t know how much longer I can keep…”

Ropes of cum spilled down your throat, and somehow you swallowed it all, though it took a lot of effort to do so. After it dissipated, you pulled away from him, just sitting back on your knees and looking up at the beautiful man before you, his hands in your hair. To the eye that didn’t know anything about him, he was just an average middle aged man, but to hers, before her stood a man who had been through so much, and loved and cared despite the risks involved, and whose strength was unmatched.

Hotch gently pulled you to the bed and laid you down. “I’m going to be right back, sweet thing,” he said as he kissed your forehead before going to the bathroom to retrieve wet wash rags.

Thirty minutes later found you on his chest, skin to skin, and his arms around you gently.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You asked.

“Probably, but what?” He replied before kissing the crown of your hair.

“When you said you noticed all of the cute little mannerisms I apparently do.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating his chest under you. “Absolutely I do. I’ve noticed from the beginning, when you applied for this job and came in for an interview. You kept touching your neck when you were nervous or felt vulnerable.”

Your eyebrows collided. “You were still in the process of divorcing Haley at that time.”

“I can’t say I immediately fell in love with you at first sight,” he admitted, “but I can say I felt like I met someone I thought would be nice to have around.”

“When… did you realize you liked me in a… in a different way?”

Hotch stroked your back. “When you remembered Jack’s birthday and sent home a little present by me to him.”

“God… Hotch-“

“We just went through all of this for you to call me Hotch? Really?” He smiled cheekily.

“It’s a habit! Anyways, you… you’ve known for that long? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to cross any lines that I shouldn’t have,” he said simply.

“We’re going to have to figure out how to deal with the fallout from here, you realize that, right? And Strauss.”

“God, I didn’t think I’d hear Strauss brought up post coitus,” Hotch groaned. You laughed heartily.

“Let’s just… keep it between us. Just for now.”

“For now,” he agreed. You snuggled into his chest, and fell asleep like that.

Of course, you forgot that he left a mark on your collarbone when you had to untangle your limbs from him the next morning to pack up and get on the jet and go home. You couldn’t use the curling iron excuse, not that far down. And it was simply too hot for a turtleneck. So, before you boarded the jet, you made up your mind to gaslight everyone. And you meant everyone.

“Am I crazy or is that a hickey?” Derek pointed out when you sat across from him at the four seater, closest to the window. Hotch lifted a brow and widened his eyes at you from where he was sitting, conveniently facing you at the two seater behind Derek.

“God, Derek, don’t you know anything? This is a birthmark.”

“A… a birthmark?” Derek sounded bewildered. “Girl, I’ve known you for almost over a year now. You didn’t have a birthmark.”

“You didn’t notice? I’m almost hurt, Derek Walter Morgan.”

“That is not my real middle name, you know that, right?” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Where could you have possibly gotten any lovin’ from, hm? I know it wasn’t boss man.”

“You know, Derek is right. I don’t remember you having a birthmark,” Spencer jumped in from where he was perched on the couch across from you guys.

“Oh c’mon, Reid, like you’re the most observant person in the room!” You said with a smile.

“I know an iron burn when I see one and… sorry, but that’s not it,” Emily quipped.

“It’s just a birthmark- have you guys considered concealer exists? What’s next, you guys believe Emily naturally has berry red lips too? Gullible.”

“So… why did you leave it off today?” Rossi asked, obviously suspicious.

“I woke up late. Didn’t have time to do my makeup routine.”

This begrudgingly seemed to suffice most of the team, but Rossi was no fool, and he noticed Hotch’s t-shirt under your flannel, and winked at Hotch, who only rolled his eyes, then glanced at you, a vulnerable smitten woman among profilers.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #smut

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lumi-nescentt · 7 months

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I'd Run Away And Hide With You

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: mention of Jos Verstappen, a bit of swearing

Words: 1.5k

Summary: Your boyfriend is determined and passionate, you love that about him. But when things get tough, his father's voice is a little too present in his head so you're here to remind him of who he really is.

A/N: I was watching the last season of Gilmore Girls and after seeing Logan and his Dad argue, I thought I could write something similar with Max, enjoy :)

This race weekend had started pretty well as usual. Max was doing great and had qualified first, Lando had invited you and your older brother to watch the race from the McLaren garage since he knew your brother was a big fan, everything hinted that the weekend would be great. Max’ family was here so you being at McLaren was actually a good thing even though Max wished he could have had his good luck kiss.

However, from the moment the rain had started falling, you could tell something was going to go wrong. Spa was a pretty dangerous circuit with this weather and most of the drivers slowed down a little to be safer, the memory of the accidents still too fresh in everyone’s mind.

Max and Checo had been battling all race for the lead because of a slow pit stop that had fucked your boyfriend’s advance. You could tell Max was fuming from his radio message just like everyone else but you also knew that when Max got like that, he wouldn’t stop until he had pushed too far.

Your brother could tell how stressed you were because of how Max was driving so he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. While every driver was driving at a reasonable pace, conserving the speed but driving more carefully, Max was pushing harder than ever to pull away from Checo.

Inter tyres were definitely not meant to be pushed as far as Max was doing and you stopped breathing a few times as he went wide at a few turns, brushing the walls with his front wing. GP was trying to convince him to slow down and settle for the 2 seconds gap he had but Max’ mind was set on doing better, 2 seconds wasn’t far enough from Checo. Not when most of his mom’s side of the family was in his garage watching him.

After a few more laps of arguing between GP and the Dutch driver while Max pushed as hard as ever without being able to really pull away, you heard Christian’s voice on the radio ordering Max to stop his little tantrum and listen to his engineer, shutting him up for a second before letting out a groan of anger as he finally lifted his feet from the throttle.

The whole message had been broadcasted and you couldn’t escape the comments about Max from reaching your ears. It was always the same thing, your boyfriend had too big of an ego and didn’t know when to back off, he was selfish and relentless. He was always a villain, someone who ruined the fans’ excitement, never a talented driver with a steel strong determination.

If the comments didn’t seem to touch Max on the outside, you knew him, the real him. Jos was hard on him but Max was harder on himself behind closed doors. He said the comments didn’t matter as long as he was winning but deep down you knew Max wished he could have it all: the wins and the fans’ love.

Even though he’d never admit it out loud, the Dutchman wasn’t as tough as he tried to appear. You had seen him shed silent tears out of frustration after he got called hideous names again for just being good at his job. You knew the comments from today would hurt him and that he would probably be harsher on himself than usual.

The end of the race was even worse, Max’ tyres were done for but pitting would have gotten him out of the points so he was forced to stay out as he tried to wrestle the car through the sharp and quick turns of Spa. With so little grip, Checo was quick to overtake him even though Max didn’t go out without a fight.

His determination had come back to bite him quickly because George had used the opportunity to get closer to the Red Bulls and he was right behind Max’ rear wing for a few laps. On the last lap, George finally overtook the Dutchman as your boyfriend cursed harshly, not realising that his message was broadcasted.

The podium finish should have been a good thing but Max was brooding as soon as he took off his helmet. Nico Rosberg tried to wrestle more than a two word answer out of him during the podium interview but without success. Max was pissed and everyone could see it.

As soon as you were sure he’d be done with his media duties, you excused yourself from your brother and sneaked off to the Red Bull garage, hoping to arrive there before Max lashed out.

You quickly climbed the stairs to his driver room, offering a sympathetic smile to his PR officer who was in an animated conversation with Christian before knocking on the door. Not hearing an answer, you got inside slowly not knowing what to expect.

Max was sitting on his couch, eyes closed, fists clenched and headphones glued to his head as you recognised some rock song he listened to when he wanted to forget about everything. He didn’t even flinch as you sat down next to him, only removing one side of his headphones so you could put your head closer to him.

-" I'm proud of you Max." you whispered with your head on Max' shoulder

-" Don't lie to me, please." he answered, removing his headphones completely but still not looking at you

-" When have I ever lied to you ? And why would I even lie, darling ?"

-" I don't know but if you're really proud of me then the bar is pretty fucking low because I was shit out there and you know it. My dad knows it, I know it, my whole family knows it and every single person with eyes saw it." Max muttered standing up abruptly

-" You know being first isn't always what matters most, right ? I'm proud of you because you did your best to hold on. Yes, it didn't go the way we wanted but what happened is done and that doesn't change how I feel about you. Everybody makes mistakes, Max. What matters is how you deal with it afterwards."

-"I can't deal with your pity, stop." he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose

-" I'm not pitying you Max, it's called being supportive and being here for the people you love."

-" I don't need your support now, it won't change what happened !" Max lashed out, immediately regretting his words when he saw the flash of hurt on your face

-“ I don’t care if you want or need it. Like it or not, I’m your girlfriend and I love you so I won’t let you beat yourself up over one mistake you made.” you snapped back, Max’ face softening at your words

-"Listen love, I know you're trying to cheer me up and everything but I really don't have the energy for it right now."

-" Max come on, I'm not asking you to go out and celebrate with everyone. I just want you to come back to the hotel with me and have a quiet night in instead of working all night and torturing yourself over something you can't change"

-" y/n, stop. I don't want to fight so please can we not talk about this because my dad is probably gonna be here any second and I don't want to argue with you and him on the same night."

-" Darling we're not arguing. If you don't want to talk about it, fine but can you at least let me stay with you ? I don't want you to be alone."

-" I'm not sure, schatje. My dad will definitely be in a sour mood and you being here while he calls me a failure again isn't really something I want happening."

-" Max, look at me." you say, gently raising his chin with your hand when he doesn't comply " You're not a failure, never been one and never will be. You making a mistake doesn't take away from all the great things you've accomplished, alright ? I know racing is your whole life but the Max I know out of racing is pretty great with or without formula 1 and he's far from being a failure."

-" Thank you, love. I'm sorry for raising my voice at you earlier, I know you're trying to help. I just can't get my dad’s voice out of my head sometimes and I guess I don't want him to end up lashing out on you too if you stay."

-" Don't worry about earlier, I know that wasn't really you. You're not your dad, Max, you're so much better than he ever will be. Let him come at me for all I care, I won't let him say a single mean word about you or me."

-" You're cute when you get protective, you know ? Come here." Max says opening is arms for you

-" I was going for intimidating but I'll work on that before I see your dad again." you smiled, placing a kiss on Max' cheek

-" Do you still want to get out of here ?"

-" With you ? Always."

-" Let's go then, we have a movie night waiting for us, schatje."

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n

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venusacrossthestars · 3 months

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Doughnut Holes

Pairing- Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

A/N: I literally hate this, this is a hodgepodge of randomness, I'm so sorry. I also really want a doughnut hole now. This is @arieslost doing, we couldn't stop talking about Lando and I loved every second.

WC- 6k-ish

F1 masterlist

One might compare the inner workings of a Formula 1 team to a carefully crafted house. You had the foundation, walls, floor, roof, all of the main components that made a structurally secure house. Then you had the fluff- all the things that weren’t technically needed but the things ultimately made a house, a home. Without the fluff, the house was nothing but a cold, unwelcoming shell.

You would be considered a part of the fluff, you were among those who brought the warmth, the love, and all of the things that the others didn’t. While McLaren didn’t necessarily need you to run successfully, it seemed that a certain driver did.

Lando considered McLaren to be his second home, after all, he does spend the majority of the year with them. The people, the constant movement, nothing was ever still and for the most part he enjoyed it. His whole career was based around speed, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wish for it all to slow down.

Like everyone, Lando had his good days, and then his not-so-good days. The latter becoming more and more constant. It would start off with something small- waking up five minutes before his alarm went off, putting on a pair of socks only to find one had a hole in it, or arrive at a meeting- only to find out that all the doughnut holes were gone. Then it would escalate, it could be anything, from learning that something was wrong with the car to having media duties after a terrible qualifying. Lately, anything that could go wrong was going wrong.

The first time Lando had met you, well more like the first time Lando saw you, was no different. Lando had woken up late, couldn’t find a pair of matching socks, and had a half-dead phone because his charger had broke the night before. He didn’t care for meetings when he was in a good mood, and he certainly cared for them less when he was in a bad mood. By some miracle, he arrived on time for the meeting but not nearly early enough for a doughnut hole. Lando closed his eyes for a moment, he could hear as more and more people entered the conference room and hoped that this day could only get better.

“Mate, you look like crap.” Lando’s eyes snap open and turn to the Aussie driver who looks at him with a frown.

“It really hasn’t been my morning, more like it hasn’t been my week. Nothing is going right and frankly, I’m sick of it.”

Oscar gives him a sad smile, “I’m sure things will turn around.”

“I hope so.”

The meeting had begun like every other meeting, a promise for a good season, what was being worked on, the same old same old. However, they weren’t even at the twenty-minute mark when another person entered the conference room. Lando, like everyone else in the room, turned their heads to the newcomer.

“Sorry,” the newcomer squeaked out, clearly embarrassed by all the attention focused on her. “I’m just here to drop off the flash drive you forgot Zak.”

“Oh, thank you Y/N, what would we do without you?”

“Crash and burn, sir. Crash and burn,” the girl- now known as Y/N replied with a smile. And although you weren't smiling at Lando, he really wished you were.

You had left as quickly as she had came, the only thing left in Lando’s mind after the meeting was your smile and the fact that his day had gotten miraculously better.

Bad days didn’t typically phase you, it generally meant that things would only get better.

But, walking in late to a meeting you weren’t even a part of was not the pick me up you needed. The day had already started out rough- your car wouldn’t start, your sock had a hole in it, and worst of all- catering was out of doughnut holes by the time you got there.

It was a quick 1, 2, 3 drop and go but there were so many important people in that room, including the two McLaren drivers. Even though you didn’t do anything remotely embarrassing, you were up that entire night overthinking it, but in reality, it wasn’t like anyone was going to remember the girl who simply dropped off a flash drive.

A week had passed since the meeting, and things were looking up for little Lando Norris. He had matching socks, a working phone charger, and most importantly he was holding the last powdered doughnut hole. However, he had not seen the girl from the meeting anywhere. It wasn’t surprising with how many people were coming and going, each had their own responsibilities. That didn’t mean Lando wasn’t disappointed, there was something about that girl.

A quiet ‘son of a bitch’ caused Lando to snap out of his thinking, as he turned to face who was muttering such profanities so early in the morning he was met with the slight of you standing at the catering table.

“Everything ok?” Lando would be a fool if he was going to let his opportunity to talk to you slip through his fingers.

“Huh?” you responded almost unsure if the Lando Norris was talking to you.

“You just swore? So I’m assuming something happened?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really, its just that- never mind it's stupid.”

“Not stupid enough for you to be swearing at 8 in the morning.”

You wave your hand dismissively, "it's just that I woke up on time and got here early all for a doughnut hole and there's none left.”

Lando casts his eyes down to the napkin in his hand that contains the last doughnut hole and holds it out to you, “here you can have mine.”

You look down at his extended hand and bring both of yours up in protest, “No it's ok. I think I’ll survive without it.”

“No take it, I shouldn’t really even be eating it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive,” Lando says as he holds his hand out further.

“Thank you,” you take the precious breakfast treat with little hesitance and pop it into your mouth.

“I’m Lando by the way,” Lando holds out his now empty hand.

“I know, I’d be surprised if anyone working here didn’t know who you were.” You tease, grabbing his hand with yours and shake it.

“Oh, I supposed you're right.” Lando rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, ‘way to make a complete fool of yourself, obviously, she knows who you are’ he thinks.

You giggle at his response and offer him a smile, “I’m Y/N,” but before you can say anything else you are interrupted by the shrill ringing of your phone, “and I am needed elsewhere, have a nice day Lando. It was lovely meeting you.”

Lando watches as you answer the phone and scurry off elsewhere, but he is definitely going to have a good rest of his day now, not even the lack of a doughnut hole could bring his day down.

Before what you and your coworkers now call the doughnut hole occurrence™, you've never interacted with Lando, there were a few occasions where you happened to be at the same meeting as him, but never enough for him to notice you or have him introduce himself. Now, however, you seemed to be seeing him a lot more, well more than the other McLaren driver. Maybe, it was because both of your schedules lined up or it was like that phenomenon where you see one certain car, then all of the sudden you’re seeing that car everywhere. But what changed in the matter of weeks that now he was everywhere?

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the British driver attractive. But you were two separate worlds away, you- an assistant who was a constant people pleaser, and he was, for a lack of better words, himself. You didn’t consider the two of you friends, hell you had one conversation with the guy over a breakfast treat. You didn’t even really consider the two of you colleagues, you both ran in different circles of the racing world. That fact didn’t stop you from giving him a smile every time you saw him and to your, and your coworker's surprise, he would give the small gesture a return.

You truly hated being a people pleaser, especially now more so than ever as you stood outside the door of Lando’s driver room. “Stipud Debbie, stupid saying yes. ‘Oh Y/N they need a temporary assistant for Mr. Norris. I told them you’d be perfect for it', ” you mimic Debbie, your supervisor. “Why couldn’t I have said no?”

Many of your co-workers liked to joke that you were a jack of all trades. That you could be pushed into the deep end without knowing how to swim and learn that second. You were a quick thinker, that's how its always been. But even the most flexible of people had their limits, and you were currently staring yours in the face.

Lando didn’t know what to expect as he opened the door of his room to the hallway, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting you of all people to be standing there muttering to yourself.

“Can I help you?” Lando asked, puzzled as to why you were here.

“Sorry, I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Y-”

“Y/N, “Lando interrupts, “I remember you. You’re the girl I gave my doughnut hole to.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me,” you chuckle out, “it looks like I’m your new assistant for the foreseeable future.”

“I don’t really see the need for an assistant,” Lando says. His words cause your face to fall, and he quickly tries to backtrack, “It’s nothing personal but during the season I am either- traveling, racing, doing media duties, or sleeping. So I really don’t know who said I needed one.”

“I don’t know either, Debbie, my supervisor recommended me and now here I am,” you gesture out, “and I really don’t want to tell my boss that you said that.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do. I mean I do, do things.”

“Ok,” you draw out with a nervous breath, “I mean I am a bit of a people pleasure. As long as you don’t ask me to do anything gross, illegal, or really immoral I think we’ll be fine.”

“See those are all the things I need an assistant for,” Lando jokes. He notices how your shoulders lose some of their tension. “But if you are my assistant does this make me your boss?”

You seem to ponder his question, “Maybe, but probably not.”

“Fair enough.”

The first few weeks of working for, or more with Lando have proved to be smooth sailing. You weren’t being pulled in eighteen million directions, nor were you running around like a headless chicken. Lando was right when he said he didn’t really need an assistant. You probably answered a few emails, some phone calls, ran out and have gotten him a few random things but that was about it.

There were also a few things you have learned about Lando during your time together. He never demanded, he always asked politely- something that your previous employers and co-workers never did. He also always insisted on eating meals together, anytime he ate he always made sure you were eating too. Lando also talked a lot, not that it was a bad thing, at first it was a bunch of small talk- he asked about your family, if you hand any pets, what your friends were like, what kind of hobbies you enjoyed, things like that. Then he would ask your opinions on things, what he should wear, what sandwich he should get and once joked with you, “you’re my assistant, you should be telling me what to do anyways.” It almost felt like a friendship instead of an employee-employer relationship.

Today was no different, Lando was going on about some TikTok he saw the previous night, a TikTok that he had already sent you. “And the dude wiped out and ate shit. I’m telling you, that while I felt bad, I almost peed my pants from laughing so hard.”

“The way he landed, there is no way he didn’t break a bone or several.” You responded not looking up from your computer.

It was hard working with a funny, talented, kind, handsome man. A man whom you were already attracted to without knowing him and getting to know him, the really Lando Norris, was only making it worse.

“Let's do something, I’m dying of boredom,” Lando drones out, flinging himself down on the couch next to you.

“Lando, I am trying to reply to some of your business emails, y’know my job.” you continue to type away, trying to emphasize your point. However, you are rudely interrupted when your laptop is ripped out of your grasp.

“The emails will still be there later, let's go do something!” Lando exclaims now dangling your computer away from you.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, I was hoping you’d have an idea.”

“Yeah, I got one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it's called giving me back my computer so I can do my job,” you deadpan as you lunge for your computer. Lando's reflexes however are much quicker than your movements, so you are left pressing into him, computerless.

You quickly sit up and turn away from him, trying to hide your embarrassment. By doing so you miss the small frown that Lando gives at your quick retraction.

Lando however quickly recomposes, “I know,” he stands, “let's go bowling!”

“Bowling?”

“Yeah, y’know, the game where you basically throw a heavy ball down a lane and try to knock down the pins.”

“I know what bowling is you doof.”

“Then why’d you say it like that?”

“Because out of all the options in the world, you pick that.”

“For your information, I like to bowl.”

“Yeah, you also like to golf. You really like your old man sports huh?” You tease.

“Hey! That’s not very nice missy,” Lando waves his finger at you mockingly.

“Fine, I apologize Mr. Norris. I would love to go bowling.”

“Yippie!”

“Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“Never say that again.”

“Yeah, right, sorry.”

Lando was excited, he actually didn’t know why he picked bowling. Truthfully, he just wanted to get out and do something, preferably with you. These past few weeks with you as his assistant have been amazing. Not because he had someone running around doing his bidding, but because he had someone to talk to. At first, it felt weird talking to you, he kept asking you random questions. He didn’t want you to feel pressured into answering him just because in some run-around way he was your boss. He wanted you to feel comfortable around him, and he could tell that the more he joked around with you, the more at ease you felt.

The two of you walked down the hallway towards the exit, talking seemingly about nothing. Well, you were doing most of the talking, not that he minded, he could listen to you ramble for hours. Whenever you were around, everything else became fuzzy. He noticed how your eyes got a certain twinkle to them as you talked about your favorite things. He knew how you loved Oreo cheesecake, and that your favorite doughnut holes were the red velvet ones, but since catering didn’t offer those you had to choose your other favorite, powdered sugar, and that you also had a distaste for fish, claiming it tasted like how still water smelled.

He tried to show you that you were more than an assistant to him. He always made sure to eat with you, he never demanded anything, he asked your opinion on important things. Lando knew, however, that those things were the bare minimum, hence why he asked you to go bowling.

“Where ya going?” The familiar accent of Lando’s teammate stopped them in their tracks.

“Hey Oscar,” you turned to great the Australian, “Lando wanted to go bowling, so I guess we're going bowling.”

“I haven’t been bowling in forever. Last time I went I had to play with the gutters up.”

You gasped, clasping your hands in front of you, “why don’t you come with us?”

Lando froze at your invitation, he was hoping that it would just be the two of you. He could see Oscar's gears turning in consideration. He looked at you then behind you at Lando, who was shaking his head and moving his hand in front of his neck, trying to tell his teammate to say no.

A grin split across Oscar's face, “y’know what, I would love to go bowling with you and Lando.”

At Oscar’s response, you swiftly turned back around to Lando, who swiftly changed his movement. Rubbing the back of his neck he gave you a sheepish smile, “great, the more the merrier I guess.”

The drive to the bowling alley was painfully quiet, normally the silence would be filled by Lando’s rambling but the Brit had no quirky comments. This led you down a spiral, did you do something to upset him? Was he mad at you for inviting Oscar? You thought the two of them were close and that Lando would’ve invited Oscar anyways after running into him.

The three of you entered the alley still in silence and frankly, you were fed up with it, “is this a bad time to say that I am absolutely terrible at bowling?”

“No,” Lando speaks up, “it just means that I am going play the easiest round of my life.”

The clerk hands you your shoes and assigns your group a lane. “I feel like a clown with these shoes,” Oscar admits.

“You look like one too,” Lando deadpans.

“Jeez, no need to be rude.”

You look at Lando with a raised brow. You can't tell if he is joking or not.

“Anyways,” you but in, shifting their attention to you, “How are we going to decide who goes first?”

“It’s only fair that the master goes first to show the peasants how it's done,” Lando declares.

You and Oscar share a look of ‘can you believe this guy?’ “Go for it then all mighty master.”

You watch as Lando goes for his turn, and much to Oscars and yours amusement the ball goes straight to the gutter. The little screen over the lane plays a silly animation indicating that Lando, had in fact, not hit a single pin.

You are unable to control your laughter, tears pool in your eyes. You have to hunch over in your seat in order to keep your laughter at bay.

“It’s not funny,” Lando pouts.

“You’re- you’re right,” you wipe at your eyes and take a deep breath, “it’s not funny. It’s fucking hilarious.” You managed to get out in between a fit of giggles.

“You're lucky your laugh is cute,” Lando waves his finger in warning.

Your stomach flips at his admission. Your laugh, cute? Your gaze meets Landos and he is quick to turn around and go for his second turn.

“Did I hear that right?” you whisper to Oscar.

“Yup,” is all he offers in response.

You hear a collision of the ball and pins followed by a loud “SPARE!” from the overhead TV, indicating that Lando has in fact struck a spare.

“See I just needed a warm-up,” Lando says wiggling his fingers at you and Oscar. “Who’s next?”

“Ladies first,” Oscar gestures for you to stand.

Rolling your eyes you stand, “wow, so chivalry isn’t dead.”

Walking over to the lane you can’t help but look back at Lando, who gives you a double thumbs up. Taking a deep breath you throw the ball down the lane, and to your surprise, you manage to hit, not one, not two but four pins.

“Not too bad,” you hear Lando from behind you.

“All those years of Wii bowling must’ve paid off.”

“Just don’t throw it backward.”

“I make no promises.”

Your next toss is much better, out of the six pins left you managed to knock down five. You turn around to gloat but the two McLaren drivers are in discussion, Lando looking pissed off and Oscar looking unapologetic.

“Is everything ok over here?” You stand with your arms crossed staring down the two of them. You came out to have fun, not to babysit two pissy twenty-something-year-olds.

“Everything is fine,” Lando snips out.

“If you say so, Oscar you're up.”

The Aussie groans, “you both did good, this is going to be embarrassing.” He points to you, “I thought you said you were bad at bowling.”

“I’ve channeled the Wii bowling Gods and they have blessed me, maybe you can do the same,” you tease as you sit next to Lando.

You turn your attention to Lando and quietly ask, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well you were quiet on the drive here, you’ve been a little bit snippy towards Oscar and I. And just now- you were talking to Oscar and you looked pissed off.”

“I’m fine.” Lando shrugs off your worrying.

“He’s just pissy I interrupted your alone time,” Oscar interjects.

“You went already?” Lando asked, surprised by the quickness.

“Yeah, it goes by fast when you roll two gutters in a row.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Wow, you really are bad,” you admit, “but what do you mean by ‘our alone time.”

“Nothing,” he shrugs again.

Lando is quick to get up, seemingly uncomfortable with whatever Oscar meant by ‘alone time’. Now you really need to know.

“Oscar,” you poke him in the shoulder, “what did you mean by that?”

“Like I said, nothing,”

“You might be able to act all innocent and good in front of the cameras, but you Oscar Piastri are the biggest shit-stirrer of them all.”

Oscar just shrugs at that, leaving you to wonder what he meant. Did Lando truly just want to spend time with you and only you? Was this just because Lando saw you as a friend and wanted to hang out. Or was this as an ‘I want to get to know you better because I like you and could potentially have feelings for you?’ hang out? The first one, you rationalized, it's definitely the first one.

The rest of the game went in a blur, too focused on what Oscar said and what your overthinking brain was processing.

Lando has never felt more uncomfortable and furious at the same time, and all because of Oscar’s comment. He really shouldn’t have let it get to him, it was just a friendly jab, Oscar knew how Lando felt about you. He also couldn’t get the look on your face at Oscar's comment out of your head. You probably thought he was a creep or some weirdo.

The ride back, albeit not as uncomfortable as the ride there, was still filled with this silence that Lando did not care for.

“Mate, how did you manage to roll a gutter almost every single time?”

“I don’t know, it's almost sad,” Oscar admits.

“Oscar, it is sad,” you but in, “there has to be a statistic out there or something saying it's harder to do that than actually knocking down pins.”

“You’re one to talk,” Oscar exclaims, “you still lost.”

“Yes, Master bowler Mr. Norris reigns supreme. But at least I managed to score points. I even got a strike! That’s more than you can say!”

“I am never hanging out with you two again. You are the worst.” Oscar huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and stares out the car window like a pouting child.

‘Good’ Lando thinks to himself. He would’ve said it out loud but after you had asked him what was wrong at the bowling alley he tried to be in a better mood. Granted, having Oscar come along wasn’t what he had in mind when he asked you to hang out with him, but he still had an alright time. Plus, he did get to hang out with you, which was better than sitting around doing nothing while you answered emails.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” you told Lando once back in his driver's room.

Lando whipped his head around to see you packing up your laptop and other miscellaneous belongings scattered around the room. “What? But it's still early.”

“Yes, and I still have emails to answer remember?”

Lando groaned at the remembrance, “but I’m still-”

Lando stopped at the sight of your raised palm, “If you say you are still bored I am going to smack you, and besides I think you need to call it an early night because you were extremely crabby with me and Oscar earlier.”

“Crabby? I’m not a toddler who forgot his nap.”

“Are you sure? Because it was hard to see the difference earlier.”

“I just wanted to hang out with you.”

“And you did hang out with me, did you not?

“Yeah, but Oscar was there too. I just wanted the two of us to hang out.”

“Lando you see me every day, we ‘hang out’ all the time.”

“No, you’re working most of the time,” he corrects you.

“We get nearly every meal together, no? You send me TikToks, funny tweets, reels. You meet me after all your media duties, qualifyings, and after the races. We see plenty of each other.”

“Do you not like spending time with me?” Lando asks dejectedly.

“Did I say I didn’t like spending time with you?”

“No, but you also didn’t say you liked spending time with me.” Lando points out.

You roll your eyes and Lando watches as you walk closer to him. Lando feels the heat of your palms through his shirt where they lay on his shoulders. His brain nearly short circuits, while this isn’t the first time the two of you have touched one another, this one feels different.

“Lando I like spending time with you,” you shake his shoulders. “Maybe a little more than I should.” It’s quiet and Lando knows that he probably wasn’t meant to hear that. However, he feels relieved at the statement, knowing now that the feeling is mutual.

You smile again, “as I said earlier- I still have emails to answer and you should get some rest, you crabby toddler.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he waves you off, “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Of course, Goodnight Lando.”

Lando can’t help the grin that breaks out on his face, and it stays that way till he falls asleep.

It's the next morning and you are tying your shoes on when there is a knock at your door.

“I’ll be right there, just give me a second,” you call out.

You make it to the door and when you open it you are greeted with Lando’s smile. However, your view is obstructed when Lando all but shoves a brown paper bag in your face.

“What is this?” you ask taking the bag, “it's not a dead animal is it?”

“Do you think I'm so sort of psychopath?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Just open the bag.”

Hesitantly, you unroll the top of the bag and peer inside. Thankfully, it's not a dead animal, instead in the bag lies half a dozen red spheres.

“You did not!” You exclaim, and you can’t help but break out into a grin. “Where did you get them?”

“I’ve never seen anyone get so excited over doughnut holes,” Lando laughs.

“They aren’t just any doughnut holes! You got me red velvet doughnut holes, my favorite.” You pull Lando into a hug. In which he wastes no time returning your embrace, savoring the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

“See I remember things, especially if they are about you.”

You pull away, mostly from the shock of what you just heard. You can feel your cheeks heat up, and quickly you clear your throat, “Thank you, Lando, I really appreciate it. Do you want one?”

“How can I refuse a pretty girl like you.”

Your jaw drops, and Lando looks nonetheless phased as he pops the ball of dough in his mouth.

“So on the agenda today is-” you begin, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach, pulling your phone out to see what is actually on the agenda for the day.

“Nope,” Lando snatches your phone from your hands, “I’m kidnapping you for the day.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, “what?”

“You and me are officially off the clock for the entire day, no meetings, no phone calls, and no emails.”

“I mean that's kind of you, but why?”

“Why not,” he shrugs, “I thought you liked to hang out with me,” Lando wiggles his eyebrows.

Your palm meets your forehead, “I’m definitely getting a headache by the end of today,” you mutter.

“I hope that was a comment about how excited you are to hang out with your favorite McLaren driver.”

“Who said you were my favorite?”

“Ouch, I buy you doughnut holes and this is how you repay me?”

“How ever will the little Lando Norris survive?”

“Come on you loser, I have kidnapping duties to attend to.”

Who would’ve thought that skipping work with the person you work for could be so fun? Lando had all but dragged you from tourist attraction to tourist attraction, shop to shop. It almost feels like a date, he opens the door for you, offers to pay for your trinkets, all the things a boyfriend would do. You are quick to remind yourself that this is just a friendly outing, just two friends hanging out.

The topic of dinner was being thrown around, after eating junk all day the two of you needed some substance, “I was thinking sushi,” you tease.

“I know you're joking because you also hate fish,” he points out, “I was thinking more Italian, I know a place.” Lando grabs your hand and drags you in what you assume is the direction of the restaurant.

“Did you have fun today?” Lando asks as the two of you are seated in what feels like a set right out of a romance movie.

“I did, thank you.”

“I’m glad, I felt bad for my behavior yesterday. I felt like an ass.”

“Is this why kidnapped me?”

“No,” he quickly shakes his hands, “I did this because…” Lando trails off.

“You did this because?” You urge him to go on.

Instead of giving you an answer he scratches his chin and looks shyly at you. Your mind automatically goes to the worst-case scenario.

“You’re firing me, aren’t you,” you rip the band-aid off, no point in beating around the bush, “I should’ve known it. First, you get me my favorite treat, then you take me all around the city. Oh my God, I should’ve known.” You slump down in your chair and cover your face with your hands.

During your spiral you failed to notice how Lando’s eyes nearly bludge out of his head, he too is now panicking.

You feel Lando’s warm hands as he reaches across the table to grab your wrists, “Y/N, god no I’m not firing you,” you still refuse to look at him afraid that if you do you’ll burst out in tears. “Come on baby, show me those pretty eyes.”

That grabs your attention. Your head quickly shoots up, “what did you just say?”

“Um, that I’m obviously not firing you?”

“No, no, after that, you called me baby.”

“Yeah, it um slipped out.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage out.

Lando lets off a soft curse, “I was going to tell you after dinner, but the reason I was pissed off yesterday was because I wanted to take you out bowling, kind of as a date?”

“As a date?” You ask in disbelief.

“Yeah, but then you invited Oscar, and I tried to get him to say no but that little shit doesn’t know how to take a hint. Or more like he does and just wanted to see me suffer. He didn’t make it any better with those little comments,” Lando rambles on, “what I mean to say is that I kind of have liked you since you interrupted that meeting a couple months ago.”

You have never been at a loss for words like you are at this moment. “You,” you point to Lando, “like me,” then point to yourself.

Lando nods, “Why though? I mean why me?” you ask.

“Well at first I thought you were cute, you look so frazzled but yet you held your confidence. Then you smiled, and I wanted to be the one you smiled at so badly. I thought I would never have the chance to talk to you but then there you were, swearing at the lack of doughnut holes, and I couldn’t believe the universe had given me a second chance. Then you got a phone call and scurried away before I could ask for your number or anything like that. I was so mad at myself for the following weeks. I couldn't get your laugh, your smile, your snarkiness out of my head. Then you were outside my door saying you were my new assistant, and I almost turned you away.”

If you were lookin in a mirror the only way to describe how you looked right now would be similar to a deer in headlights

Lando continues, “then, these past few weeks, I’ve gotten to know you more and more and I couldn’t help falling more and more. So yesterday I was planning on confessing after bowling but then Oscar joined us and I was pissed off and I took out on the both of you.”

“Oh. This is a walking HR disaster,” you jokingly mutter.

“If you don’t feel the same I understand. And I won’t be upset if you don’t want to work with me anymore.” Lando quickly adds in.

“But I do feel the same. I’m just confused,” you admit.

“What are you confused about?”

“You’re a famous Formula 1 driver, you are so big in this world that McLaren probably wouldn’t be able to function if you left. I’m nobody in this world, if I left everyone would go on like it's a normal day.”

“You’re not nobody to me. I need you to function.”

You smile at his admission, and you close the distance between your hands on the table, “I would consider this an amazing first date.”

“Really?” Lando asks hopefully, “I kinda just complied a bunch of stuff together hoping you would like it.”

“I loved it,” you admit before a look of horror flashes over your face, “I didn’t say anything after your confession, did I?”

“You don’t have to,” Lando interrupts.

“But I want to, that morning when you gave me the last doughnut hole I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was just a small gesture that made my day. I thought I knew who Lando Norris was before then, an attractive Formula 1 driver who just so happened to drive for McLaren-”

“You think I’m attractive?” Lando giggles.

“Yes I do,” you sigh out, cheeks burning at the thought of saying the rest of your feelings out loud. “But you quickly became Lando, the person who asked about the little things, the person who got to know me. All the little quirks that make me, me. I was trying so hard to stay professional, not let your little touches, the way you would talk, or all the times you insisted on getting lunch with me, all those things get to me. I was surprised when you offered me your last doughnut hole but I am so thankful that you did.”

“I guess we should thank catering for never ordering enough doughnut holes for this?”

“We should, I guess that doughnut holes can be our thing.”

“Of course, they can be our thing.” Lando pauses, “Does this mean we’re dating now?”

“Take me on another date, an official one this time, and you got yourself a deal.”

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you

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garbinge · 1 year

Text

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08.

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money.

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs.

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?”

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh.

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders.

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.”

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report.

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative.

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut.

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds.

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras.

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away.

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed.

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him.

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head.

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes.

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over.

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised.

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.”

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated.

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.”

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face.

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him.

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.”

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you.

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back.

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist.

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER.

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you.

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements.

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked.

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you.

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out.

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you.

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him.

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.”

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

#Tim Bradford #Tim Bradford x Reader #Tim Bradford x F!Reader #The Rookie #The Rookie Fanfiction #The Rookie Fanfic #The Rookie Tim Bradford #Tim Bradford Fanfic #Tim Bradford Fanfiction #Timothy Bradford

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andavs · 18 days

Text

I really wish Buck’s big arc last season had been the leadership thing that they started out with. The sperm donor and death arcs didn’t really go anywhere or change anything for him, when a leadership arc could’ve led to a lot of tangible growth.

It started off great, with Buck getting pissy about not being interim captain. It showed exactly why he shouldn’t be captain anytime soon: he acts on emotions first and logic second, especially when he perceives something to be a personal judgment against him. That isn’t the person you want leading a team, and Mr “I cannot handle anyone else getting hurt” is clearly not someone who’s comfortable sending other people into danger, which is part of being a captain.

But then it got completely dropped until the finale, which…didn’t really tie into leadership anyway. He just ran around saving everyone himself. He wasn't actually leading anyone or doing any kind of real, on scene coordinating like a captain would—Maddie did more of that than he did.

This arc could've continued all season in the background and involved the whole team, with Bobby giving Buck opportunities to take point and give him feedback. Chim could’ve talked about why he didn’t like being captain, Eddie could’ve talked about his experience as a staff sergeant in the military, Bobby’s early years as a captain, he could’ve talked to Hen who was chosen as interim captain.

If he’d gotten actual, tangible feedback from the people around him, he could’ve gone through so much conscious development and growth that would affect every part of his life. He could’ve worked on taking a second before reacting to a situation to think it through, which is something that has repeatedly gotten him into trouble. He could’ve learned how hard it is to send the people you love and care about into danger, especially when one of those people disobeys orders and goes off half-cocked.

If we'd seen him spend all season learning that and then in the end he took command, actually acted as the IC, and coordinated with other houses to save his team, that would've felt more like an actual arc that impacted him, his life, and how he functions on the job.

Maybe he could’ve overlooked something that another captain caught to really drive home that he isn’t ready yet, but he would still have that knowledge and experience to use in the future, even if he isn’t captain anytime soon. We could see him coordinating or helping out where necessary. He could be Hen’s 2IC when she’s the captain. He could use those skills to problem solve in all areas and see the bigger picture, something he’s always struggled with.

I’m just annoyed that what could’ve been a great season backbone and a vehicle for the growth and maturity that Buck keeps missing got ignored for sperm donation and a death arc that didn’t lead to anything.

#like what was the point of him getting pissy about it and then doing nothing about it #it came off like a temper tantrum that he got over once he had a snack #s6 drives me nuts in every way #911

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crownspeaksblog · 7 months

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"He went mad, he tortured the crew, he took my fucking leg, cause i dared to mention your fucking name!"

Goddamn! This line! This line scratches a part of my brain in way that makes me sorta wish we had gotten a full season of angst (I'm glad we didn't though, i wouldn't be able to handle it) but my GOD it's just so good!

Con O'Neills acting and delivery in this scene is just amazing! The way he says "he took my fucking leg, cause i dared to mention your fucking name!" Like the words are seething out of him, he slams the bottle in his hand on the desk, like he can't fucking believe it, can't believe that ed, the man he's probably known from DECADES, would just shoot him, so easily, just for daring to utter fucking stede bonnets, fucking NAME out of his mouth!!

And it's not just cons delivery, it's the ed and stede angst of it all! It's the way ed is caught of guard with izzys audacity to even say "talk it through" the way stede used to say it. It's the way ed wouldn't accept hearing izzy say stedes name or mention eds feelings for stede, let alone infront of the crew. It's the look on eds face and the way he nodes his head like this is what you get, the second he shots izzy!

But yeah, that line is the epitome of brain scratching for me! Go listen to it again. I'm not giving this line the justice it deserves, go listen to it again!! It's glorious!

#This fucking lines makes me want to read like 100 fics of angsty angry ed.. but i can't handle it. it's too much pain to read it!#kudos to con o'neill!! he deserves all the fucking flowers for this whole season and especially this fucking line!!!!#ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #blackbonnet #izzy hands #con o'neill #ofmd 2x03 #👑

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dragon-kazansky · 23 days

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Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Seven - The prince

♡♡♡

Once again, you find yourself sitting in the pleasant blue drawing room that belongs to the Bridgerton's. It is a colour you could get quite used to.

Most of the family were present, so it was quite a nice gathering. Daphne had been the one to greet you when you arrived, but Benedict insisted you sit beside him once you came into the drawing room.

You smiled at Anthony as you passed him, and he gave you a gentle smile in return, bowing his head. This did not go unnoticed by the second son, who gave you a questioning look that you offered no response to.

"Daphne, have you thought about who you would like to dance with at tonight's ball?" Violet asks her daughter.

"I have some ideas. Lord Weaver is a fine dancer." Daphne says.

"Lord Hardy was asking about you at White's last night." Anthony tells his sister.

Daphne comes to sit beside you.

"Lord Hardy? What about the duke?" Her mother asks.

"The duke has not proposed, Mama. I am still considering my best course." Daphne says.

Gregory steals from Anthony's plate behind you, sending the eldest brother into a frantic motion. His sneaky little brother.

"Wise girl," Anthony says, once he is over his brother's thieving ways.

"And Lord Hardy is a fine option. Although, he is rather boastful."

"My dear, why ever do you complicate matter so?" Violet asks. "You must simply marry the man who feels like your dearest friend."

"Oh? Is that it, Mama? Well, how very simple indeed!" Daphne sighs.

"Yes, quite."

Benedict, who has been slouching slowly inch by inch on the sofa since you sat down, looks up at you with a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes and nudge his knee.

Daphne, deciding to shift the conversation from herself, turns to you. "You did quite well yourself at the last ball."

You smile and glance back at Anthony who smiled at you in return. "I had help."

"Hm?" Benedict sits up and looks at you. "What does she mean?"

You turn to him with a proud smile. "Well, my usual dance partner wasn't present last night, so Anthony stepped in. Dancing with your brother garnered a little attention, and I had several dances with different gentlemen that night."

Benedict turns to look at his brother so quickly that he could have gotten whiplash. Anthony smiles smugly at him.

Violet leans forward with some interest. "Oh? Do tell me more."

Talking about Daphne any more seemed like a dead-end, so Violet decided to move on to you.

"Your eldest offered to dance with me. He's quite the skilled dancer. Afterwards, I was approached by several others. I honestly think Daphne may be my good luck charm. Her magic is rubbing off onto me."

Daphne smiles at you, pleased that thongs are turning around for you.

Benedict glares softly at his brother. "She's my dance partner."

"You weren't there." Anthony argues.

"Still..."

"It matters not. I think I may be not he without a partner for the rest of the season. Even if none wish to call upon me, I shall dance at every ball."

Benedict isn't sure he is comforted by your words, but at the same time, he can't fault you. Perhaps this will be your way into the marriage market, after all.

♡♡♡

Benedict made it a point to attend this ball. The idea of Anthony stepping in for his role as your dance partner didn't quite sit with him.

While Daphne is off dancing in the next room, you hang back in the connected room with the other Bridgertons.

"Give me your dance card." Benedict says.

"Hm?"

He reaches for it without speaking and signs it. You chuckle.

"I'm just making sure," he says.

"Yes. Of course."

"Did you hear?" Colin asks, rejoining you both after fetching a drink.

"Hear what?" You ask, turning to him.

"There is a prince attending tonight." He sips his drink.

"Ah yes." You recall hearing that. "I'm sure everyone knows."

"Does Mama know?" Benedict asks him.

"I'm not quite sure." Colin muses.

You look at Benedict. "Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason. I just wondered. After all, if he's eligible, and the Duke has yet to still propose to Daphne..." He drifts off.

Colin looks at his brother. "You can't be serious?"

Benedict shrugs.

Chatter grows near the entrance, and you look up in time to see the Queen enter with a younger man by her side. There is no doubt in your mind that he is the prince that was expected to arrive. He is dressed like one.

"That shall be him now," you say, watching walk into the ballroom.

"Princess Daphne, eh?" Colin grins.

Benedict smacks him lightly. Colin glares at his brother. You rolls your eyes and walk away.

"You owe me a dance!" Benedict calls out.

You laugh as you head into the ballroom, wanting to see what is happening. The Queen introduces the prince to Daphne and you watch curiously.

After a few moments, Daphne lets out the most unladylike laugh you have ever heard. You chuckle quietly to yourself.

As the music begins to play again, Benedict comes up beside you. "Done swooning?"

"I was hardly swooning."

Benedict holds out his hand and gives you a look. You chuckle and place your hand in his.

"My name is on your card."

"I know."

You both join the others and dance around the room. Benedict and you smile at each other, enjoying each others company. Dancing with him has become a rather nice moment for you, but you haven't forgotten your initial attempt to find a suitor.

When your dance with Benedict comes to an end, another gentleman approaches you, and another after that.

Benedict finds that your dance with Anthony last time has really improved your chances. He thinks nothing of it as he rejoins Colin in the other room.

The evening passes, and you find that you had enjoyed every moment of it.

♡♡♡

Prince Friedrich of Prussia had garnered a lot of attention. The ladies flcoked to him in the masses. While he was trapped outside with the ladies and their Mama's, you were inside looking at the art.

The Bridgertons. Were here, too.

The gallery was phenomenal. Artwork covered every inch of every wall. There was so much to admire and take in.

You were currently with your mother as you took in some of the artwork. Your eyes are taking their time to trail over the details of paintings. You didn't know much about art, but you could certainly admire it.

Violet Bridgerton had her arm hooked with her eldest son. She scanned the room and pointed out some of the lovely ladies present. Anthony sighed and looked at his mother.

"Were I looking for a list of debutantes and their dubious accomplishments, I could have stayed home and read Lady Whistledown." Anthony frees himself from his mother and wanders off.

Violet turns to take Benedict's arm, but he catches on quick and wriggles out of her grasp, also fleeing.

Poor Colin is left behind to take the fall.

Benedict finds himself looking up at a painting in deep thought. Lady Danbury joins him along with another gentleman.

"It's much too cold," Benedict says, looking at Danbury. "Where's any sense of the subject's spirit? And the light! Given the quality, I do wonder why the piece was not skyed with the other daubs."

"Perhaps we should ask the artist," Lady Danbury says.

"That would be something, Lady Danbury." Benedict nods at her.

"Mm... Mr. Granville, why was your piece not skyed?" She turns to the gentleman beside her and Benedict wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"Mr. Granville, I--"

"If you will excuse me, um, I must find my wife." Granville leaves.

Benedict is left starting in utter shock. "You diabolical... How could your leylt me rattle on like that?"

"How could I not, my dear Mr. Bridgerton? It was riotously funny, you must admit."

Lady Danbury walks away.

Benedict looks back at the painting and sighs.

"Penny, for your thoughts." You say, coming to stand beside him. Benedict looks at you and then back at where Lady Danbury had gone.

"I was humiliated just now."

You look around but don't see who he is looking for. "Surely not."

Benedict looks back at the painting. "What do you think?"

You look up at it and give it a good look. "I... can't say I know much about art. Do you?"

Benedict smiles a little. "You could say that. I have a passion for it."

You turn and look at him. "You're an artist too?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. Not yet." He looks almost sheepish.

You smile as you look at him. "Is there any possibility of me seeing your work?" You ask.

Benedict isn't sure why his heart races at the thought of you seeing something so important to him. His personal hobby.

"You wish to see my work?"

"If you'll allow."

Benedict stares at you for a moment and then tears his gaze away, realising he was perhaps looking for far too long.

"Perhaps one day."

You hear the far away tone of his voice as he looks up at the painting on the wall. You wonder what he's thinking.

Perhaps he hopes he can paint something for all to see one day. Maybe then he will let you see his passion.

The crowd behind you gasped, and you both turned to see Cressida on the ground with Prince Friedrich comforting her.

"Ah, the art of swooning." You chuckle.

Benedict chuckles, too.

You turn your gaze away from the crowd and back to the painting on the wall. Your eyes trailing along it. This piece doesn't make you feel much of anything, if you were honest.

Yet, somehow, you believe Benedict's painting would certainly have a way to move you. Whether you understood art or not.

♡♡♡

Benedict sits in an empty room of the house, all by himself sketching away in his book. He has already torn out and tossed a couple of pages in frustration.

There is a lingering thought in the back of his head. The thought of showing you his work. You asked him so innocently too.

If Benedict is to create anything worthy of being admired by you, it would have to be perfect.

He wasn't entirely why your wish to see his work mattered so much. Perhaps it was because you became friends. Perhaps it because he felt you would understand.

Your kind-hearted nature and sense of humour were perfectly admirable traits, but it was your wish to know him on a deeper level that had Benedict desiring your company.

You were one of the only people to really see him. It felt good.

The second son swore to himself that he would draw something worthy of your gaze. Nothing less.

It was just going to take him a while to create such a piece.

If only Daphne would play a different tune kn her piano. The constant repetitive notes he can hear from the drawing room were driving him insane.

♡♡♡

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@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

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