#kudos to anyone who reads this whole thing

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When was the first EXACT moment Linda knew she was in love with Leonard?

@thefleetsfinest -> okay, so somewhere in my brain, this concept and idea of how to detail Linda's entire relationship with love and romantic relationships, and falling in love came about and it morphed from simply answering this answer to writing a drabble that is 13,393 words long. I hope this answers your question, Mel, and I hope you appreciate this! You inspire me a lot and thanks for letting me write this whacky thing; hope it doesn't beak tumblr.

When had she fallen in love. . . . had it been with Steve? He was cute and a little plain. So, no, her first boyfriend wasn’t love. It was never gonna last, but she liked him. . . . what about with Jack? Oh, now there was someone that brought a smile and fondness in her eyes. That had a timer known from start to finish, but it was fun. Jack was good for the heart. . . . Stephen Strange came up in the blind spot and she should have known better. It wouldn’t last either, even with how that ended up. Why did it have to hurt. . . . Didn’t she get engaged? Well, yes, and she had loved him but not enough or perhaps she hadn’t been loved enough.

Somewhere, some psychologist, or pseudo-philosopher like her mother could dissect that relationship with a scalpel. Take out the lungs and liver, the problems and what good it was; look at the diseased heart, put in a jar and turn it for inspection, and call someone the fool. She hopes it was not her.

Now. . . . Leonard Mccoy. . . .

TIME MOVES FORWARD

But first she has to call a friend or she can rent a room, it’s not like she’ll be here longer than a week anyways. After the call with headquarters, she was still cleared to be boarding and joining the crew of the USS-Enterprise returned to the port of San Francisco recently. Her head is level on her shoulders, angled forward and her eyes looking ahead. There is a clear thought in her mind, the new mission and while her heart. . . .

Well, there were two types of doctors the one who put away their feelings and those whose kept them. It was what the Chief Medical Officer aboard the USS-SOLACE had said once when addressing the medical staff as they came to find the outbreak was worst than they had expected and the virus was adapting already, mutated and the variant was not responding to what they had came prepared with.

There were two types of doctors, and those that kept their feelings were going to get sick. That was okay, that meant they would need time to breathe and tend to themselves while they were all swamped with more work than any of the nurses or doctors experienced during their residencies. Linda thought she was the one who kept her feelings, and now as she’s coming onto the Enterprise, heartbreak on her coattails, maybe she would need to put them away. Onto a shelf where she could take them down again when she was ready to take them out and feel them all again, when they were needed. She could be both types.

She was here now, on a new assignment that she had requested transfer to alternate ship and mission type than what the USS-SOLACE had to offer. She gave her all during the harrowing parts on the Solace, loved her work there and did great things for people in need. If she hadn’t done what she had done for love, than she would be back there on SOLACE with its new assignment and helping more people. Linda Carter was committed to path now, she could make commitments and now a new set of people needed her. Any ship of any size would need their doctors.

That was what she told herself, and when she was met face to face with her new CMO, she would say she was HAPPY to be here. Her hand makes contact with Leonard Mccoy’s, a smile before she even looks up into his face. Green gaze meets green gaze as her name falls from her lips, and there’s a beat. A pause where nothing leaves her throat, and it’s as good as the truth that would come from her at the time. ❝ It’s my pleasure. ❞ 

She was happy to be here, to get back to work and immerse herself back into a ship and its crew. Get to know what her duties would be, as she was specially trained in cardiology and cardiothoracic surgery, along with experience dealing with viral pandemics and emergency front line medicine now would always aid her, and familiarize herself with the staff and crew.

Linda wouldn’t need to think about a broken engagement or even speak of that. The ship wasn’t gaining one researcher, Dr. Michelis, but his loss would not be missed. Her hand is still held in Leonard’s, perhaps moments held too long as her lips only pull tighter into a grin, ❝ Well, I am an open book ⸻ don’t be a stranger, we’ll work best if we work as a team and act like friends. ❞   She had meant that, Linda would humor the Chief with any questions and talk in extensive detail about her experience as Doctor Carter and even indulge in details about her father and his work.

Such philosophy would carry over to the whole of the staff here; the nurses, researchers, other doctors, and assisstants all here to maintain the health of a crew over four hundred. They would be her team, and they would act as friends. It would be a different place, a new pace, one which she would have thought had been better for Marshall. . . . now it was hers, all hers ALONE to experience. . . .

FLASH BACK

Out, get out, she has to leave the room. She looks to the Chief, and she had allowed for Linda to excuse herself. PATIENTS DYING? She got used to that; she has known death and looked in its face, held its hand as many would pass on when medicine failed them or when it was their time. Coming here and dealing with the crisis, they all faced massive losses and stood in death’s shadow as they worked tirelessly to fight against it.

It had to take one more before they could figure it out, didn’t it? DEFEATED, TIRED. Her friend, had been her best friend, who laughed with her and encouraged her in their personal lives as. . . . she wouldn’t even be dating Marshall if not for Georgie. She now lay in a hospital bed, dying. That was where Georgie had been the past few weeks, she knows now. EVERY FIBER OF HER FEELS WRECKED.

Linda had promised that tonight would be for Marshall but how could she give herself to him after the news? She wants to scream at Georgie, and then at one of the ship’s psychologists and demand they evaluate her. She can’t be sound mind for rejecting any medical care. She’s just overworked like they all have been, this situation was worse than they had expected. They had needed support, and the masses, the numbers of this outbreak had added an extra digit and it got onto the SOLACE and into its crew. Deaths were coming personally now. Unfortunately for Linda, it was now claiming Georgie and she wanted to swiftly decline, no medicine.

Marshall would understand her skipping a dinner. Would. Should, they loved each other, it should be simple. She’s at his door and entering freely. It’s cold in the room, and he fixes her with a hurt gaze. ❝ Dearest ⸻ ❞  They speak at the same time, and things wither between them in that very moment. He was angry with her, YOU JUST CAN’T PUT ASIDE YOURSELF FOR ONE NIGHT.

❝ My friend is dying! Georgie! ❞ Oh, there’s that eyeroll she despises so much, and all her tears dry up in an instant. She marches with pain in every step further into the apartment, she’s been on her feet this entire week and then the Chief’s telling her about how Georgie’s joined the quarantined and she was going to be dying. She knows he never cared for Georgie, and that was fine even though they wouldn’t be dating without her friend.

PEOPLE DIE, LINDA. ⸻ WE TALKED ABOUT THIS. YOU CAN’T PUT YOUR ONE OTHER PERSON IN FRONT ONCE?

❝ HA! ❞ She bites bitterly, and that’s how it starts. All her emotions torn up, put to tatters and shreds, and he has to push her over the brink. Linda stays on her feet, and she yells right back at him for his snap.

Georgie said they went together because they went match for match. Was this what you were meaning about us, Georgie? She would be suiting up tomorrow to see her in her sorry state.  Ask her why she was making this choice, come to her with her voice sore from yelling it out, ending this relationship from the looks of it.

❝ You are really going to start this right now? People die, but this is Georgie! Losing her fucking life, so of course I wasn’t going to be here with you tonight. Fight me! I know you don’t give a damn about her! But here’s where I thought you gave a damn about me! You know what ⸻ ❞

I DO CARE, BUT DO YOU? ⸻ DON’T MAKE THIS DIFFICULT, LINDA ! YOU HEAR YOURSELF?

She’s losing her friend and she’s losing her boyfriend, oh how she would like for this year to be over with already. Her shoes are coming off, being kicked across the FLOOR, because she’ll be damned if he makes her leave this room when she was whittled to nothing today. Her feet stomp on the FLOOR when she goes for the next round of cutting thorny words. God, everything hurts.  

The argument tears on for hours, raising their voices, back and forth; and she’s surprised they haven’t been reported or dragged out. SHE DOESN’T DO THIS. Linda doesn’t yell in arguments, she argues but she controls herself and Marshall had to chose today of all days to. . . . make her into a woman of hysterics.

TONIGHT, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ENGAGED.

❝ Don’t. Don’t. ❞ Her hand goes up, just to signal for him to go away and leave her alone. There are her tears again, and Linda wants to fall apart; lay in bed and just be an abyss of a person right now, because she was done with everything. At her limits, then torn completely down until she felt like nothing; not enough. Not enough at all. Taken lower than that.

He does it, the whole speech about her and their relationship, gets on one knee and takes her hand, forces her to stay and have her hand held. Tells her that he’ll be here when she loses Georgie, she’s going to need someone. He even has a ring, and she can’t look at him. She can’t listen to him, be told what was supposed to happen and what she should do. Her heart is pounding, hurting, she feels ill. ❝ Dammit, Marshall. ❞ Linda wants to throw up.

She’s going to pull the ring off, drop it and let it fall to the ground. Where does she go from here? ❝ I’m going to go see Georgie. ❞ Where does she go after that?  

TIME MOVES FORWARD

The first few months aboard were going smoothly; there were those moments when the medical bay would be busy and others when she could breathe. One week the replicators were malfunctioning and the food that was produced had left half the ship with food poisoning. It was immediately fixed, but the problem wasn’t known until several hours later after it had been used all day. It was in a moment like that as she’s moving through the room where she feels a little lonely despite everyone around her, like she needs a breath, and she pauses in a moment to take that breath that she hadn’t realized how badly she had needed that.

Her thoughts interrupted when the Chief pulls her attention, catching her taking that breath and she hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes until she has to open them to look at Dr Mccoy. Greens meets greens, and she smiles to him. ❝ You don’t ever do that, Chief? Take a moment and breathe it all in? Let yourself just get lost in the room ⸻ ❞ Her hand goes to touch his arm, than to his hand and redirects his hand to his stomach. Mimics herself the same gesture, hand to her stomach and closes her eyes again. ❝ Try it, eyes close; breath and smell the room, breath again and just push yourself. Be the room, and it helps sometimes. ❞

Chief Mccoy’s been excellent to work with, and they’ve hit it off; both of them possibly taking what Linda had said to him when they met to heart. They work as a team and act as friends. She thinks maybe that was just his personality as well, to get along. He’s grumpy, in a way that makes her roll eyes with a smile; laugh over the things he says and sometimes if she didn’t have tight control on her tongue she would match back in wit with his sarcastic comments. Leonard tells her that’s part of his Southern charm, to which she had scoffed and admitted to having no idea about that at all. ❝ Not an Earth girl; so as far as I know you’re making that up. ❞  If it offends him, she laughs.

It felt good to have a friend again. He was one of her first ones here besides a few of the nurses aboard. They would have lunch together sometimes. He’s complaining about his headaches to which she knows now means two of bridge crew men of whom he’s known since the academy. They were talking about the second, Clint right now, and Linda tell him that she can handle Clint just fine. ❝ Honestly, I like him; reminds me of my brother Tag. ❞

They got into the habit of being around each other, they worked well and were fast friends, lunches together unless the Chief was called off with the bridge crew. Linda should know better, not after all the heartache she knows, but her eyes still follow him, watch and stare for a moment. Just a moment before she’s smiling back to her table mates. She does that, she knows, but it has to be nothing. There was still that gaping empty feeling left in her chest when she marched out of Marshall’s apartment. BUT Linda has eyes, and she sees him, Leonard Mccoy. His southern charm might be something after all. Except she needed it to be nothing.

Part of their friendship, their thing, comes in the form of sitting in his office on the floor together. Today, he’s inviting her in because she’s been struggling all day. Tired from the work, and then there’s her heartbreak, memories coming back to her. She hadn’t intended on tearing up in his office, sitting in front of his couch and telling him about Georgie. ❝ I never had a best friend quite like her, and I had only known her since Starfleet Academy ⸻ She could make an entire room brighten up, smile and laugh even the saddest state of that room. We needed, my god, that ship and everyone needed her. I need her. I wished I had met her sooner in life. God, Leonard, I miss her, I ⸻  I know she would tell me now, Carter, you can’t go fussing about me. Go make friends, live life, get married, help people dammit. Put yourself out there on the god-fucking star map. Excuse my French. ❞ She hadn’t even realized she had called him Leonard, but when they were in here, just being friends who listened to each other than why wouldn’t they use their names?

She hasn’t talked about Georgie, at all, not in a while. Linda had put all her feelings in jars on the shelf, and now she’s opening them with Leonard. It messes with her heart a little, trusting him and leaning into him as she does, processes again a loss she hadn’t been over thinking about.

There’s more than just Georgie feelings being felt there; after all, her best friend had been responsible for her dating her ex-fiancé. They talk for about her previous ship, about Georgie a lot more, and Marshall comes up which he asks about Dr Michelis because he was supposed to be aboard as well, and with her. She’s curt about him, that they had been together as that is what would have been on their transfer documents, a couple. It’s over, all over now, and here she was. ❝ I am glad to be on this ship, and I hope the ship is glad I am here as well, Chief. ❞ Is it, are you, her eyes wanting to ask.

FLASH BACK

DARK EYES, ALMOST LIKE VOIDS, HOVER OVER HER. A part of her wants to shove his face aside, but another part of her shivers as Jack’s lips part in that smile that he’s always got on. Wants those lips to be all over her. Her hand does go up to his face, he is turning his head and kissing at her thumb. WE ARE GONNA BE LATE. Yeah, she definitely wanted to shove at his face now, but she doesn’t.

❝ And whose fault would that be, Jack Tryon? ❞ She quips, and maybe her hands are dragging down to his chest because he was hers for the taking; and Linda thinks he was being ridiculous.  WELL, YOURS. ❝ Well, I wasn’t going to have you meet my parents. ❞ She admits to him honestly, with a smile and there’s no wound on his face to that.

They knew what this was. She was in her residency, in the same place that she had always been, and he was a ship doctor, always on the move except when the ship was currently dry docked with about fifty some crew working on this or that. It would be like that for three months, then it would be leaving again, and that is JACK came into the bar she was at one night.

He thought he was a hot shot, and they fell into bed without much work needed. Really, she had been stressed because her attending had been pulling her hairs out all week over everything. He was easy, and Linda just needed the stress relief. Jack’s all charm, and a little older, and she thinks that being on a ship for so long has led him to lose his mind because he asks to be hers for a limited time. She really thinks that he did lose it, but then she must be losing her mind too when he’s showing up everyday to pick her up, get a drink, and only some nights follow her home. Pretend like he’s the perfect boyfriend, and don’t you still have work yourself mister, she asks.

Linda definitely knows that she must have been insane as well to agree to whatever this was between them. One day, Jack points out that the natural thing for a couple as involved in them was to introduce him to her parents. ❝ And what about yours? ❞ He takes the two plants in the room, and holds them up, gives them little voices to his parents.

Jack was a good laugh; and she does introduce him to her parents. It’s a laugh, with her mother asking her father if he could perform a wellness check on their daughter to be so fast with him and she doesn’t know a thing about him. Tag’s the one who points out, and God the things that kid says sometimes, that she’s advertising her sex toy. What’s a seventeen-year-old know about that?

Jack was a nightmare after hearing that, they don’t even get into doing anything that night because she can’t stop laughing. Making fun of what Taggart said, and all she thinks is Jack’s a good friend. Great for a laugh, but they never talked about anything serious. She needed that if they were going to be real.

TIME MOVES FORWARD

Growing older, birthdays didn’t feel as though they had mattered much. They never really had, when there was always more on her plate. That wasn’t to say that Linda wasn’t proud of her age, that she didn’t wear the lines that would form on her face as she showed her maturity with pride. She did. Forty was the next threshold in her life to cross. She’s made herself comfortable on the ship over these ten months. It was starting to feel like her place that she was meant to be, faces becoming recognizable. It was a marvel to simply be tending to people, to be their doctor, familiar and kind. The Enterprise became home, took her on this journey, to new and unknown places with good people. It’s exciting, and its different work than the Solace but she was liking all the same.

There’s someone that comes to mind these past few days that gives her an old feeling of a good friend, of a best friend. He’s got green eyes, tall, sarcastic wit, and Southern charm. The Chief Medical Officer has become what Linda would say is her best friend, and she would know what one of those felt like from Georgie and even a little bit from Jack. Leonard’s something else, and what was she to do about the other feeling? They fall into place, work side by side well together, share odd hour chats in his office. Although he’s been a terrible influence on her own bedside manners, especially when Clint’s come in to make his wisecracks, she’ll snip right back like Leonard does or visibly roll her eyes at him.

Which if she already feels this way about him, why wouldn’t she feel more? Shouldn’t she have seen it coming that her friend, who could look at a file and see when her birthday was, make a big deal about it. It’s what for friends were for, would do, they were just friends, to make each other feel special and take care of each other. So why did it throw her heart for skipped beat when he surprises her for her fortieth birthday.

You are not going to cry, Carter, put those feelings back on the shelf. Linda’s all smiles at the room of people, through the festivities and being celebrated which feels different than the last celebrations had without her best friend, Georgie; but maybe Leonard’s been left for her to be that her best friend now. It’s sweet to do any of this, when she would have settled just fine for well wishes and nothing more. Yet he went and did this, and she bickers with him at the end of the party about going to bed. As it becomes just the two of there, Linda notices something about that, about him, then his green eyes, and his smile.

Leonard’s telling her to go enjoy a good night of rest after her birthday party. That shouldn’t make her tear up, and maybe one of jars had come off the shelf without meaning to. Her feelings were being had and felt, and he only makes it worse on her heart because he had to be sincere, worried at the tears. ❝ I ⸻ No, I’m amazing, this was. . . . you’re, thank you so much for this, and being my friend. ❞ My best friend, and she knows that looking at him that she’s let her heart get away from her again. Should have kept it in its jar, left it to the highest shelf, because she can’t go crushing on (falling for) her superior officer, for another doctor when she’s. . . . ❝ Turn in early too for once, Mccoy! That’s my birthday wish. ❞

FLASH BACK

Her finger moves in a slow circle over a bare chest, and she had gotten into this habit. Linda was focused on her courses at the Starfleet Academy and maybe she had been foolish to think that Jack would show up again out of the blue after years. They hadn’t been anything, but he had left her thinking and now here she was late night with another doctor. He outranks her, technically an authority on her but not for another two years would they be working with each other.

A finger goes up her back, shiver along her spine, and she doesn’t even know what she likes about him. He’s arrogant. She rejected him three times, but then the fourth time he asks, she says once. Linda rejects his offers and attempts at guidance in all things Starfleet. This non-relationship, all it really was Linda being shown around San Francisco and sleeping with him. That ONCE was eight months ago now. ❝ You shouldn’t lie to a doctor. ❞ She could tell that there was something on his mind, that he was lying about being absolutely fine.

They talk in soft voices, and she doesn’t kiss him when they part in bed. It’s how they were, he’s dry and dark, and she’s got Starfleet dreams in front of her. They aren’t so affectionate with each other. She had her life to be focusing on, and so she gets up, to dress herself and get back to her roommate.

GET A DRESS AND JOIN ME TONIGHT

❝ You want to show off your new girlfriend? ❞  She asks tying her hair up, and he tells her not to flatter herself and then she leaves him to his bed. If there’s a smile to her face, she can lie and say it’s a number of other things than Stephen Strange wanting to show off his girlfriend.

TIME MOVES FOWARD

❝ I am going to try pulling a page from Mr. Barton’s book, Chief ❞   Linda begins to chide softly as she is pulling him aside the moment that he was aboard the ship again. His arm had been stuck in a torpedo, of which they only recently found out what was inside of them much to everyone’s shock and some’s horror. Her hands are gentle on his arm, and she can breathe a little easier now that he’s in her sight and seemingly fine. ❝ And apply some humor to defuse a tense situation. ❞

She was worried about him, and the doctor isn’t going to curb her own personal feelings for once with that. ❝ You got your arm stuck, what were you thinking? That you were Jim? ❞  Her eyes search his face, and this whole thing has been one of the more stressful and he could have ended up a blast stain if he and Dr Marcus had been a second slower in what they had been doing. ❝ Lapse of judgement like Clint always has? ❞ 

Broken skin, bruising, and it could have been a lot worse. She actually feels her chest go tight at the thought of that, and he catches her holding her breath. She exhales, ❝ You’ll be okay, Chief, no death or amputation. This should help. ❞ Linda gets him with the hypospray, adjusted for painkiller and for boosting natural bruise healing.

Even putting aside the feelings that cause her heart rate to raise when he’s close, he had become her best friend. To which she knew she wasn’t his, and that’s fine. He was the closest friend she had aboard of the ship, and to lose him or to have something happen to him. . . . Her heart couldn’t take that again. Linda couldn’t lose him, as her friend or as the guy she won’t make a move on. He’s not looking anyways.

FLASH BACK

She’s a fresh-faced medical student, and she’s already a quick study (how could she not be her father is head of the cardiac department on the base’s main hospital) and performing top of her marks. Linda was polarizing, liked and disliked in equal measure but she kept herself none the wiser to any who looked on at her.

Except that she would be blind or a fool, if she didn’t notice how one of the doctor’s eyes followed her. She knew most of the people here, after all she was a Carter and at least a quarter of the doctors and professors she was now studying under would appear around her father’s poker table for a night of cards and gin. A table she’s visited and been at since she was little. Linda knew why others were jealous of her, it was because she had that leg up.

This doctor was unfamiliar to her, and his eyes follows her around every corner that she turns. It would go on like this for weeks, until one day she would turn a corner and march right over to him to request he either give her his name or stop looking at her so intensely. STEVE STUART.  He gets called away right as they finally get somewhere, and she shouts her name at him, Steve looking back to her twice more before he has to turn the corner and look away.

Steve Stuart doesn’t stop with his staring; in fact, he keeps looking at her, but they never seem to catch more than a moment to say anything to the other than the first word that comes out at hello. She’s a medical student, in her twenties, but that doesn’t make her naïve. It’s not as though she doesn’t get why anyone would be looking at someone like he looks at her. Linda knows she was a pretty face, but she’s been focused on degree, on becoming a doctor that her family could be proud of. THEY WERE ALREADY PROUD. It's more that she had a legacy name to live up to and Linda couldn’t let anyone or herself down. The young Carter was focused and not looking back.

One afternoon, she manages to shave off a few extra minutes, having figured out when Steve Stuart does rounds and get a look at him herself; her friend Gwen was right that he was something to look at, good looking. She doesn’t know him though, but she could if someone makes the change from looking to talking. When he catches her looking at him now, he waves with a smile and Linda decides she going to take the chance to go over. ❝ So, what are you looking at? ❞

YOU. I ALWAYS THOUGHT ALL THE ANGELS WERE UP IN HEAVEN.

❝ You know that is not as smooth as you think, Steve Stuart; you’ll have to get to know me first. ❞

Doctor Steve Stuart asks her out than and there, much to the thrill of her friends, Dolly and Gwen. They both thought he was cute, but it goes nowhere from there after a few dates because neither of them find the time for each other more than sparing cursory looks. Their schedules never lined up more than a few minutes. Things like that happen; she was focused on her future in medicine, and he was always more interesting in looks than in person. They’d always have their looks until she doesn’t notice him looking anymore; or maybe she stopped looking, stopped caring to notice.

At least someone did something, so she could know his name.

TIME MOVES FORWARD

Truthfully, she could have joined in the rest of the crew; gotten apartments and rooms, request shore leaves approved or denied by Commander Spock and go home. Yet there was nothing on Earth for her; there were only ex-somethings that she thought little of now. Her thoughts, her eyes, she had been elsewhere, and she’s moved on now. There wasn’t anything here but a Chief Medical Officer that she was worried about; deep in his grief, consumed with the death and recovery of Captain James T. Kirk.

That’s who he was looking at, Jim Kirk, and who he was losing sleep and skipping meals over. Linda watches him stay awake for hours, stay in the room longer than everyone else and refuse their insistence that he go and get some rest; that he leaves the monitoring of the comatose Captain with one of the other physicians on staff in this facility or from the staff of the Enterprise. He didn’t, and Linda knew what she had to do. She had to step in, force him out of the room whether he liked her afterwards or not.

Linda stood her ground, entering the room once she sees three of the bridge crew leave the room. There were a few, feeble attempts to speak to him over the last few days; trying to pull him away from where he was looking. His eyes are on the monitors, on the captain’s unconscious form and he’s going to fall ill from this if Leonard continues like he does. It was all that he was doing was this, trying to play God, bring his best friend back to life, and why can’t he look anywhere else in the room; listen to anyone else?

She’s worried about him immensely, takes up much of her own thoughts, and then she knows this scene suddenly. Georgie sick and dying, laying in a bed for weeks, and a cure that worked came in the difference of a few weeks. All coming too late. Georgie rejected medical care too early, something she had always felt, always thought. A doctor and their best friend; she’s stood in this room and been in his shoes. Never use Georgie’s name in vain. It’s only been a few years since her best friend’s passing.

It's a last-ditch attempt to get her friend to take care of himself before he destroys himself, what feels like a final effort to get him to look at her now. ❝ You are going to leave this room and you going to lie down, somewhere. I don’t care if it’s in the damn hallway, you have a pulse, lungs functioning, all interior processes are there and there’s brain activity. Jim’s alive. ❞ Her tone is voice is severe, because Linda doesn’t use Georgie’s name lightly. He’d know this. ❝ Your friend is going to wake up, I would have torn myself to tatters and shreds to keep Georgie alive. That wasn’t in her wishes, you aren’t going to say goodbye like I did to her. So out of this room, sleep three hours and eat something; than ⸻ ❞  Than Leonard can come back to this, and she’ll keep watching Leonard from the sidelines until something changes.

FLASH BACK

All things come to an end; and they already knew this was coming. Linda would say, at the least, she was fond of Jack but there’s something different about him, in the last two days before he’s supposed to board back on his ship and leave forever. She should have guessed that it would happen.

Life isn’t a romance novel, of second chances and surprise meetings and of resolving and confessing one’s feelings. It wasn’t like the stories of whirlwind romance that last a lifetime like her mother would write about. Jack felt like that; a character out of Doreen Carter’s novels meant to come relieve all her stresses and worries, make her feel more than enough, experience love, and last forever.

This was all plainer than that, she was working on her residency and wondering what was going to be next. Was life always going to be here? And then he’s a Starfleet doctor whose ship was in dry dock for only three months, and leaving today.

Saying goodbye was going to be that, simple, and she could say that with a smile as the words leave. He was fun, a romance novel come to life, but what did she know about him? Nothing, as much as she doesn’t think that he really saw her for who she was. It’s a fling. A short-lived friendship. Fun. What do you say, that’s what his eyes and lips were asking of her.

❝ Well, goodbye, right? That’s what we say. ❞ Linda tells him, pulling away from the hug and Jack’s got funny face put on.

“ Linda, I, you ⸻ ”  There it is, she thinks she knows what he could say. Proclamation of feelings, confession about why he did this or why her, tell her that something has changed for him. She had thought that he had done this because he had have been out of his mind, or dying, or lost; that he needed someone or something. That wasn’t going to be her, this was a three-month fling. Nothing more than that.

❝ Goodbye, Jack, you were fun to TRYON for a while. ❞  See, she remembers how he used his last name like a line, and it made her laugh, roll her eyes whenever he’s used it with her.

He chokes for a moment, on his words on what he was going to say to her; changes his mind on whatever he was going to confess, to say and thinks better of it, agrees with Linda. One more moment, and Jack’s composed himself. ” Carter, you’re gonna make someone really lucky one day. “  Just not him. Linda rolls his eyes at him, because she wasn’t thinking about that, but she’ll grace him with a smile. “ Well, than I guess this is good bye. ”

TIME MOVES FORWARD

AND SHE KNOWS HIM. Linda sees him now, listens as he sounds worn down by the year, by a single day, and then the last two weeks. His heart worn down focused on someone unavailable. She knows that feeling. Over the year, Leonard and Linda have given each other bits and pieces of each other so they knew each other. They’d done a lot, over the year, to let the other in, to see each other and to know. She watched his face fall, and she won’t regret sticking around, or the way she feels for him in that moment, and then in this moment as they sit in his apartment.

The whiskey still feels like it’s burned her throat, but he had been eyeing it with guilt; that he had swallowed too much, and Linda’s met enough people in her lifetime, to know the different walks of life to recognize the alcoholics and addicts; and Leonard she knew about, he told her too, about himself, which mattered all the more.

Linda’s here because she cares, because he could use the friend and they know enough to trust each other and Linda’s not leaving him alone. When she’s done talking, she listens to him, and it all starts to make sense. There’s a twinge, a squeeze to her chest, but her face won’t show her reactions. Linda just holds his face in her hands, holds his head and leans into his shoulder shows him that she was listening as intently, with the whole of her person.

Greens meeting green, unflinching and not judging as he chokes on words, swallows and looks away from her because the weight of his words are too much to share, to bear, so scarcely shared for him. He was carrying around so much, the loss of Pike, the day’s events and crewman lost, feelings for Jim, and then Jim dying, listening to Jim wake up to thanking Spock while he stood to the side today, and lastly drinking past his limits. Lastly, not being able to go to and share that with Clint, the friend he got sober with.

I KNEW I NEEDED TO BUT I COULDN’T, INSTEAD I DRANK

How her heart aches as he tells, sobs, he can’t handle these two weights at once, dealing with his deep feelings about Jim, toward Jim, for Jim (which maybe she knew, and she won’t admit she knows his feelings better than a listening ear, knows what it means to feel and look at someone and it is not the same, that was how some friendships were) and then drinking more than he allowed himself; why he drank and how much he drank. Linda knew that Leonard and Clint were close, and now she knew why. They got sober together, and now he’s broken that. She tries to hold his gaze as he moves to look away.

❝ Who’s disappointed in you? He won’t be, and I am certainty not disappointed. ❞ Be nicer to my friend, she thinks about him, and Linda can’t know the intricacies that he was feeling; ❝ It sounds like you’re the only one disappointed with yourself. ❞ How she knows that she cares for him greater than friendship. She could do this for anyone as a good doctor, even as a friend, console the weary. However, Linda knew she wouldn’t hold someone quite like this, look at anyone like she was looking at him.  

It all aches a little like that.  

FLASH BACK

He took her back, as she came to him feeling weary and worn, taking her best friend’s words to heart. If she could have waited a week, two more weeks, only a little more time and then she could have had Georgie here too. Linda won’t admit that she begged and that she had been wrong, and she was sorry for yelling; and she needed him, she would need him, and she loved him. It was one very bad day, one very bad night, that was all. Linda’s sorry and he was right about her; and Georgie’s help screwed her head back on the right way.

And Georgie passes, and then it wasn’t long after that they got the serum right, the vaccine, and things would change. That’s how that year had went, with her being engaged to Marshall, and he did hold her through losing her friend and he loved her, and she did love him. Linda loved him almost as much as she loved Georgie, and now he was the person she loved most (well, she still loved her career more and helping people; being needed by people). She had needed him, because that was a loss that wore down on her for months and would wear on her for many more years to come, she was sure.

The Solace is delayed in returning home, there’s been a situation an additional six months they had been away from port. The Captain and the Chief took stock of the crew and medical team; they were tired but willing, spirits not broken. They went to help, and then they could go home.

Linda’s in their shared quarters, reading a book as she waited for Marshall, they would be back on Earth soon and she would go home with him. They had topics to discuss, related to the ship’s return because these four years on the ship had worn on long for her fiancé. Linda saw he was unhappy, so maybe it was the ship, emergency and crisis, dealing with the sick that would be a lot for anyone. Linda’s toughened up because of this, but maybe Marshall hadn’t at all.

❝ We don’t have to stick with the same ship or assignment, we could transfer to one of the science ships; that could be a nice change of pace. ❞ She suggests to him, when she’s gotten him sitting with her and reaching to take his hand, to start the discussion about what would be next for and that’s where the disconnect starts to happen between them. His fingers go to toy with a notably barren spot on her ring finger, with which she knows what he was doing.

Knew what would be coming up next from his lips, so she moves to kiss him first before he can speak. When were they going to get married? ❝ Just something to consider before we even get back on the ground, and you know that I do want to marry you. ❞  That didn’t feel like a lie, because she did. Linda loved Marshall, and she would be his wife, and they would go everywhere together, everywhere that she was looking forward at. He would be right along at her side, focused on study and research, and wasn’t this what he signed up for?

He makes that sigh, looks her in the eye like she isn’t getting it and maybe she wasn’t, and it wasn’t enough, and she wasn’t enough. Looking so far forward, at what was next because she would be giving up being on ship with the people who have become her friends and family after four years; saw each other through the hardest parts of crisis. Linda was giving that up because this wasn’t working for Marshall and she saw that, but she wasn’t stopping at what she was, who she was; being on a starship and being a doctor. It’s too much of Linda now to stop after one starship, one assignment. She would give up the Solace as home, the crew as family, for Marshall to find a better place for both of them.

❝ We’ll keep talking, and I’ll handle all that ⸻ okay, I love you, Marshall, come on, I’ll show you how much ❞

TIME MOVES FORWARD

It only takes them an hour longer before she manages to get Leonard out of his apartment, off the floor, and gotten him to finish a glass of water. Linda puts on a smile, it can be hard to do that and to be disappointed with yourself, to be coping and dealing with loss; she’s dealt with a lot, and she knows that at some point forward had to be looked at and it would take a lot longer after these last two weeks. She can smile for the both of them, look forward.

Linda knows what it was like to feel that way, to feel alone, to feel not enough; but now she’s got her head on her shoulders screwed on the right way. She knows how to sweep herself off the floor, and right now he needed the hand in getting up off that floor. A good start to dealing with everything was to start at the beginning of the day and that meant breakfast. Linda holds out her arm for him, holds out her hand for him and they would go find somewhere to have breakfast. ❝ Come on, we’ll walk together. ❞

She figures that was as good as any of a way to start, to help Leonard carry on and her heart may ache for him, over him; and there’s a lot more she knows about him that she will think about. Later, she’ll think about herself and that later, right now he mattered more. He’s barely eaten more than he absolutely had to, and almost had a whole whiskey bottle. Leonard needed food, rest, to breath and find something to focus on. Smile a little.

❝ We’ll find a place that serves toast and jams, that’s always been my cure after terribly awful night. I’d sit at the breakfast table with Tag, and we’d eat an entire stack of toast until our stomachs felt like bursting and try a different flavor of jam on each slice. ❞

Then they would carry on with the day, then the week, and figure everything else after that. She would have to figure out what she was going to be doing with her time, where she would be staying while the ship was in repairs. They’ll talk about that over breakfast, what to think about forward and start figuring out how to heal.

FLASH BACK

Her things are being packed, how this had happened that she would end up with him where her things would migrate from her apartment with Georgie than end up in Stephen Strange’s. It was better this way; she’s telling herself as the feeling of anger and shame follows after her, because she would be graduating from Starfleet this year and she wanted to take an assignment on a starship; and it was like the relationship with Jack except this one had lasted longer. It would have to end. However, it had gone on long enough that they were going to have admit there was feelings between the two of them. At least, for Linda, as it turns out.

However, that was where she was feeling like a fool for making a home in his sanctuary and laying on his chest after they had sex, talking in whispers when they found the time and she’d dress up for him; be on his arm and shown off as his new girlfriend. Caring for him, and for them.

Now there was a Clea Strange at his door, that he hadn’t ever mentioned before, and Linda had better things to do with her time; better places to be. Linda’s marks at the Academy were all at the top, and she should keep it that way and it’d be easier without being the other woman. She wasn’t even the only other woman; she was just the one who. . . . She doesn’t even know what she was to him if anything; he gave her names, they were Sherlock and Watson, and they had their things, and now all she thinks is that she was a fool to him.

Clea’s sweet, talks to her and tells her that they had been separated, and Linda being there hadn’t hurt her. She left him because of his infidelities, because he couldn’t handle his problems and it doesn’t help Linda. So, what was she? His next mid-life crisis? She was a lot better than that. Clea’s incredibly sweet to help her, and they talk more than she expected. Clea’s the estranged wife of Stephen Strange, but Linda’s not a fan of feeling like the mistress, and what was Clea doing back anyway?

That catches on Clea’s face, and Linda doesn’t need her to answer. Oh, well, she missed him, and she wanted to give him a chance. Linda was evidence he hasn’t changed much in the time she had left. Clea smiles to her, gives her a squeeze to her hand and tells her that she owes her, if there was anything she ever needed than she could call either of them.

Linda thanks her, and she doesn’t know why when the wife feels like a slap in her face. It would be later when she’s back at her apartment with Georgie; that she would be angry and hurt. Be in hysterics like she hasn’t before, but most of that comes from feeling like a fool and being disappointed with herself.

TIME MOVES FORWARD

Linda was going to stay with some of the crew who were in the same boat as her, not sure where she was going, and her home wasn’t here on Earth; and it’d be lonely to explore the planet by herself anyway. She thinks that right now was the first moment that she has been alone, truly alone, sitting with herself and she’s requested the same amount of shore leave as everyone else, but she wouldn’t even be leaving the port of San Francisco, until. . . .

Leonard Mccoy catches her, and he looks like he’s been getting some rest now and clearing of his head. OH, heart sings at his sights. It’s good to see that after the last few weeks, feels good to see him in a better-looking state. He’s got something to ask her, which wasn’t what she was expecting from him with where he was going finding her and what he had to say. Linda’s got the words on her lips, rolling over her tongue and ready to release as much as she knows the pang it causes in her chest. WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR? She would say if he thanked her. Leonard was her best friend, and so of course, she was going to care and be there for him. Linda would do that without question.

There was a thank you, but that’s not the only thing that he had come to her to say, had come to her to ask. He’s telling her how he was going home, to Georgia, he needed some Jojo time, and he was inviting her to come, that he’d like for her to join him on the leave. She hadn’t any plans, she had confessed with laughs because she wouldn’t be one of the ones going home or seeing her family. Her friends the Academy were in different places, the only people in this city were ex-somethings if they were still here. Her family was on a whole Starbase in another quadrant of space, far away.

Linda can’t quell the feeling that bubbles up when he asks to come, because its time and closeness with him, and she says yes without much of a thought. So, she’ll take the time off with him than. Go with him, and like that she had a place to go, it may not be her home, but it was with her dearest friend and his friends, though Peter and Clint were closer to friends for her as well, and she would love to meet the family that he has talked about.

On the way there, she sits with him. Looks at him when he’s not looking, and she’s endeared by the fact that Clint and Peter were joining them on this leave. There are feelings that swell in her stomach, churn in chest, that were familiar and unfamiliar in equal measures. It’s a contrast seeing him now to a few weeks ago. And maybe he’s told Clint and maybe he hasn’t yet; to sitting on his apartment floor and listening to him heartbroken (how her heart cracked in the same ways in sympathy) over what he and the pilot shared that he had broken; the disappointment in himself.

Sitting here with the three of them, Leonard talking with Clint. Watching that was why she liked Leonard, that was what she had liked him for, that he was bringing them too and opening his home, his family, taking this time with them. It had meant a lot to Linda, to see that was who he was. Inviting.

Georgia is a good time, and Jojo’s a sweet kid. She’s always been good with kids, the whole family joked she raised baby brother Tag herself; Linda always wore being an older sister as her proudest achievement. She likes Georgia, seeing another side of Leonard and meeting the Mccoys made her feel like she was home with the Carters. It’s going to be awful on her heart, isn’t this? It’s not going to help with the thoughts that she needs to be letting go, moving on, and accept that she would be happy to live in friendship with him.

One night, it was just the two of them enjoying the night air and she was at his side, and she tears up. How many times is she going to cry with Leonard? There are tears because she hadn’t a place to go and he invited her to come with him to his place to go, opened his home and family. Linda hadn’t seen her family in person in a long while, hasn’t been on Starbase 515 since four years of academy, four years on the Solace, and then she boarded the Enterprise. He doesn’t know how much it means to her, doesn’t know what being hugged in his arms means for her either.

Say something, say something, say something and she doesn’t. What holds her tongue is not something that Linda think about.

On the trip from Georgia back to the Enterprise’s port, she was sitting next to him again and there’s chatter around them, but she’s quiet. Her eyes on a book, green gaze throwing glances to Leonard now and again, and she has to say it, right? She has to admit this, at least once, because she feels it in her chest; like she has never felt before with anyone else. Her lips don’t move, her voice doesn’t make a sound at all. Nothing moves, none of it comes out, and he is none the wiser to her thoughts or feelings. Linda can’t avoid admitting that after the weeks in Georgia with him and doing nothing about her feelings were small or ever to go away, that she has to say it to herself at the very least.

She has to say it to herself first, admit it to her person and acknowledge the feeling; know it and then she should think about saying that thing. She could go about no longer just looking at him, and noticing how her friend, best friend, was someone more than that; and maybe Linda wanted to give herself, give the old heart in the jar another chance. Tell him, make the change, sink or swim; but first she has to say to herself anyway.

Linda looks at him, pretends to know what she was laughing along with as she thinks, as she feels it that she has FALLEN IN LOVE with Leonard Mccoy, and oh how she LOVES HIM DEARLY already as a friend and it is felt more than that.

They’ll get back on the ship soon, get back into the work rhythm, and when things feel healed after what happened with Khan and Admiral Marcus. All settled down than Linda will think about what she does with her feelings. What does she do with them? Give it time, and maybe she’ll figure it out. Risk telling him.

FLASH BACK

THIS WAS THE WORST FEELING. She’s never known a heartbreak like this one; and Linda felt herself break when she knew she failed and found herself responsible for a patient’s life being lost that first time. Thirty-eight lives lost under her care the first week that they were here, and yet that was nothing to this feeling now that she didn’t know what to do with.

Now she knows what happens when people don’t know what to do with their feelings. She didn’t know what to do with herself or with hers. Marshall wanted to marry her, but than his words hurt and cut her deep; left her feeling beaten down when she was already kicked to the ground.

Georgie hadn’t been avoiding her for. . . . Georgie had been avoiding her because she had gotten sick, and it got to her quick, and she’s been lying in a hospital bed, wanting to hide this from her. Dying alone, and Linda can’t yell at her, for the stupid decisions to do that, for dying. Linda wants to know why she wants to feel it all, no medicine, and die in that way. What the hell was she thinking?

Her heart was breaking in two ways, and she didn’t think that was possible for it to be torn to shreds. Some doctors put their feelings away and some keep them, and she wants to throw hers up as she enters; finds herself sick as she sees her friend not looking her best.

If the hours of argument with Marshall left her dry, empty of all her tears, voice aching and weak; simply seeing her best friend like this had left her completely filled to the brim with tears and they were already spilling over. Linda holds her hand in hers, touches her gloved hand to her cheeks and asks her what she could do for her, and she can’t help herself; what happened and how? That spills her lips as loosely as her tears flowed. Why and then what the hell are you thinking?

She begs her to hold on, and then Georgie shakes her head; maybe she’ll help beat this, her dying being the key to figuring out the cure to this mutation (it was like a living learning creature). They talk about everything after that; and then Linda is telling Georgie that she thinks she was single now, and how Marshall was going to propose.

That she was so tired, and hurt, and angry; doesn’t even get to telling her friend what they had argued about, all the nasty things that both of them had said to each other. Georgie tells her that she had helped Marshall out with that, and she was glad to hear that he was going through with it; that he had wanted to go through with asking her. She knew weeks before, and she asks Linda if she could salvage this. Georgie thought that they looked good as a couple, and that must be a nice thing to be wanted and needed and loved like Linda was.

It was Georgie who tells her that she still had her chances, that she could go and salvage it. Apologize, because people needed people and she wasn’t going to have Georgie anymore. How it all hurt. Linda didn’t know what to do, and she’s asking her what to do with her feelings, with Marshall, and everything because knowing she was losing her best friend wasn’t helping her. She listens to her, every word Georgie says, and it’s her guide as she goes back tail between her legs to salvage her relationship with Marshall. You loved him after all.

Watching Georgie go, day by day. It was the hardest thing Linda had been through. And then the doctors, the scientists figure out the serum, the right treatments and cure but it’s all too late.

FLASH FORWARD

Time passes on, and Georgia is still on her mind, and time continues on that. The ship’s been repaired, most of the events they all went through swept under the rug and a new truth is spun. Beyond the dead, there are crew who leave the ship and so there are new faces aboard the Enterprise, all required to pass through the medical bay and be seen by the Chief or any one of his staff. They’ll come to know them, as they would be out on a five-year mission and that felt like a high honor.

It is slow the first few weeks to find the new rhythm of things, but things were healing as all things do and start to resume back to the pace that she had gotten used to over the past year and months on this ship. She’s glad to be here, to be a part of this crew.

Today was a quiet day, the chance to take a breath and her eyes find herself looking at the familiar faces, processing everything all over again. Georgia the place, being there with him and what she had realized, what she admitted to herself about her feelings for Leonard, and Georgie the person was on her mind as well when her eyes settle down on Leonard Mccoy in conversation with Ms Carol Danvers across the medbay.

Okay, what am I doing here, Georgie?

Let’s break this down, so what is going on?

AFFLICATION: okay, starting from there. It’s my heart and not the kind of issues that I studied in medical school. See him over there. Leonard Mccoy. Chief Medical Officer. Are you hearing the problem? Another doctor, are you keeping count of how many that is for me? Along with he is my Chief Medical Officer, remember Stephen and technically Steve could have been in charge of me too. Weird how it was those two, and Marshall was older than me, and ranked higher. I’m not even done, the affliction is in my heart; I like him and maybe I’ve already fallen for him more than that, in love or love him. I’ve never liked my mother’s poetry, but I could think in poetry about him.

So, you have a type, you always knew what you wanted, Linda.

Not now. Not now do I. Stephen and Marshall broke my heart. Torn me down. I don’t know if I want to handle that. If I can handle that again.

What makes you think it will be the same thing as all the rest?

VARIABLE: Well, he is divorced? I know that doesn’t really bother me, but I have to count all the facts. Alcoholic, which doesn’t bother me either. We all have our things, and mine is this right here. My last two relationships ended, and Marshall was right about all the things he said about me. I am too focused on what I want, and I love moving forward, I love being a doctor and challenge. I fell in love with being Starfleet actually, and it’s hard but it’s exciting. Okay, okay, so I could screw it up. Really screw it up, I do that. Great doctor, terrible girlfriend. He could want something from me that I can’t give. I couldn’t be whatever Jack wanted me to be, too short of a time to know him, and I don’t know what Stephen wanted me for. Marshall wanted a wife, and I kept prolonging that. It never happened. I’m not enough, and what if he wants something; or he asks me later down the line to chose him. God, I really think he's incredible Georgie, and I am in too deep, and I don’t know what to do. The rug could be swept out from under me, it always does when my heart runs away from me. Tell me what to do, Georgie.

Come on, Linda, you always know; you don’t need me to tell you.

P.O.A: No, I really don’t know what to do, there’s no plan of action here. I know that I should say something or try to move on. I could try, but then I love his and mine’s friendship too, and maybe sometimes that isn’t worth the risk. You chose to die quicker and in pain. Was that worth it? My two options are saying something or nothing. Move on or not, maybe just living in these feelings and friendship is enough. I thought he might have said something, once, but. . . . Maybe I should just give up.

Linda inhales, holds her breath for a moment before she lets out a sigh, looking away from the man at the other end and looks back down to what she was doing; engages herself in conversation with the nurse on duty and shakes her head to get the thoughts out of her mind to carry on. She was still figuring it out.

FLASH BACK

Linda doesn’t understand what was happening. As she was telling Marshall about all the things that they to do now that they were shipping out, on their new assignment, the Enterprise, and they needed to get their security clearance for going aboard among other things. She’s abuzz actually, to get back to working and caring for people. This all mattered to her, and it was the start of the next great adventure, and it will be with her Marshall at her side, and he must be looking forward to this as well.

NO.

❝ I am sure by moments before we are on board, you will be as well, dear. ❞  That doesn’t change his expression, which wasn’t readable to her as she’s putting her things down with confusion on her face.

❝ Well, when ⸻ ❞

WE AREN’T GOING. 

Hold on, what that was a load of bullshit. They got their assignment for the Enterprise, they’ve been jumping through the necessary requirements for boarding any starship and ⸻ what? What was going on? What did he know, and why hadn’t she heard anything?

❝ No, we are. Nothing’s changed. ❞

DO YOU WANT TO MARRY ME?

❝ I ⸻ of course, I do. . . ? I do want to be your wife, Marshall, we aren’t starting this again. You know that I ⸻ ❞

WE AREN’T GOING. QUIT. QUIT WITH ME. MARRY ME NOW AND WE MOVE TO BUENOS AIRIES. WE COULD GO TOMORROW.

That gets Linda getting up on her feet, a panic rising up in her chest because that has not been what the plan was yesterday, and they go out in less than a week. This can’t just happen like that, was he sick or ⸻ she was short for answers. She goes to open the door to their balcony, going to look out and get her breathing under control, try to figure out what was going on here and process her feelings as they were coming to her.

YOU CAN’T BE MY WIFE AND BE A DOCTOR.

He has a speech for her, so many points to be made about her, about her and him; and Linda has to admit to herself that she is barely listening. He has a whole plan, everything worked out for them, her whole plan and all she can focus on is how he wants her to quit everything, Starfleet and being a doctor. Her dreams, career, who she was being stepped on. She bites her lip, as he talks to her, talks down to her like he often does, talks like when they got engaged but Linda can’t reach inside herself, in her heart to fight back against him this time. Yell at him like they had before, like he had hurt her. She leans against the railing.

❝ I don’t understand. ❞  is all she can say when he was done talking, and she flinches again pulls her arm away and walks to the other corner of their balcony as he reaches to touch her.  Where was all of this coming from? She can’t be a wife and a doctor?

NEITHER DO I. I’M OFFERING YOU A GOOD LIFE, LINDA. YOU CAN STAY WITH ME AND NEVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING AGAIN.

His hand connects with her arm and pulls her to look at him, forces their eyes to connect and she is frowning at him, confusion and hurt in her eyes but she won’t cry or yell.

FORGET STARFLEET. FORGET MEDICINE. CHOOSE ME.

❝ Marshall, I can’t. Those people need me. ❞ Her career, her dreams, what she loved doing more than any person. She would be caring for people; a ship of that size needed its full team of doctors. Linda liked being needed as a doctor, liked her career and her role in life, in the entire universe. They were expecting her to show up. Marshall and she had talked about this, they had planned this together. She gave up returning to the Solace for him, was going to be his wife one day.

I NEED YOU. YOU WILL NEVER BE HAPPY THERE, LINDA. YOU’VE CHOSEN A VERY DIFFICULT LIFE, AND YOU’RE GOING TO BE DOING IT ALONE.

She feels alone right now, hollow too. Definitely not happy. And then there’s that word again, his favorite word to use with her was difficult. Linda stares at him, and just goes mute. What was she going to do? She had even been wearing his ring, and he sighs at her frustrated. Linda pulls away from him, quick and violent, and her hand goes to pull off his ring. She sets it down, on the little table on their balcony where she had enjoyed her morning coffees and a good book.

❝ Give me an hour and I will be out of here for good. ❞   He pinches his nose, considers what she had to say, and she follows him to their front door.

THEN IT’S GOODBYE. I JUST HOPE AND PRAY YOU’VE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE. . . . FOR BOTH OF US.

He had to say that one last thing, to try to get under her skin. Make her doubt herself, not feel enough, and try to get her change her mind, regret it. I think you were wrong about this one, Georgie. What was she going to do? It’s not as though she has Georgie’s apartment to return to anymore.

It was like the rug was pull from under her feet. All Linda knew right now was that she was a Starfleet officer and was boarding the starship, USS ENTERPRISE, in less than a week. Actually, she needs to call to make sure that was the case and Marshall hadn’t done something about that. Her heart was breaking, and she had no idea what to do about that or with anything at the moment. WHERE TO GO UNTIL THEN?

TIME MOVES FORWARD

THE ENTERPRISE WAS HOME, THE CREW HER FRIENDS, AND THE MEDICAL TEAM HER FAMILY.

Linda’s always been qualified for field and away team, her experience from Solace has always served to be entirely valuable. She knows that the Captain had favoritism toward the Chief coming on these things, but today would be her time to shine.  Linda had looked in Leonard’s eyes with a smile to her eyes, and there is that fluttering in her chest as he expresses his concerns to be careful. Still, she hasn’t done anything about her feelings for him, and they haven’t easily gone away though as she tries as she might.

In fact, he and her have been as close as ever; maybe closer since what happened in San Francisco.

This was going to be fine, Leonard, but I will be. She meant her promise to him, truly she was being careful and intended. The civilization they had contacted, after they had hailed the Enterprise, was a matriarchy and to respect that, they were getting the lady doctor or Dr Carter instead of Dr Mccoy to aid and perform an exam.

There was something in there, that they had been missing, but no one thought of that until it was too late.

Linda’s in a room alone with a gentleman from the people here and accompanied by two women who were his bodyguards. Outside the room, on the other side of the door she had knew that Clint Barton was there while Spock and Kirk were talking with the leader of this sector.

The doctor smiles to him, holding up the tricorder for medical exams to start checking him on, and there’s something quite not right. First the talk between them was a doctor meeting a patient for the first time, but than the gentleman starts asking her questions and holding her attention from what she was supposed to be doing.

What throws her off is when he asks if she loves someone, and he specifies deeply. Linda doesn’t want to answer, but she feels complied to tell the truth with him.

❝ Yes, I do love someone deeply, dearly. ❞

He considers that and asks her if she has told them lately that she loves them.

❝ Actually ⸻ ❞ Linda, why are you being honest? ❝ I haven’t told him at all, that I love him in the way that I do. ❞ The compulsion grows as he asks why. ❝ Well, I’m a coward, just a frail and pathetic woman, and I keep planning to make my feelings known but ⸻ ❞

Without realizing it, he has started to rise to his feet asks her what his name was.

❝ Leonard Mccoy. ❞

“I will make sure someone apologizes to him than.” He moves quicker than Linda can process what was happening, a cold metal pain jets into her gut and at least she remembers to scream loud enough. Sharp jabs of pain, and where’s this blood coming from?

There’s a shout, Clint’s, and all of hell breaks loose as Linda loses all sense of what follows after that.

FLASH BACK

Good news for her, Linda would be on the Enterprise at the end of week.

As she was standing on the balcony, figuring out what the hell she was going to do and Linda thinks she should be crying. Her fiancé, a relationship she has invested years in, and had given up much for; Marshall had given her an ultimatum and left her.

This was his apartment now, so she would have to get out. Her eyes go back to the ring on the table. Linda finds herself all alone, there was interstellar communication to her family but other than that; she hadn’t seen them, and they were in another quadrant on a starbase. There was no going to them, and it has been eight years since.

Georgie was dead, has been dead, and for all she knows all her friends from Starfleet academy were on their own assignments; no one on Earth or in San Francisco. Well, there were people that started to come to mind, an owed flavor promised to her, but it has been years since that had been made. Was it even true, were they even still there? It was a long shot, but her only shot.

What the hell happened, Linda Carter? She can’t work out why she wasn’t crying, perhaps she was still in shock. That was a very likely variable. Linda does feel broken, like she wasn’t enough; it wasn’t enough to be loved and have her dreams. Could she only have one? Would she be ALONE AND UNHAPPY? Was she really choosing what was DIFFICULT? Really, was that all her personal life would ever amount to?

She can’t be crying when she meets her new crew, her new superior officer. SO, CRY NOW DAMMIT! She can’t find the tears, and the hour will be up soon, and Linda really doesn’t want to see Marshall again. CRY.  Otherwise, she would be a ticking time bomb for those tears. God, she wanted to yell at the top of her lungs because how was this happening?

Carter, you’re gonna make someone really lucky one day.

HA, YEAH, RIGHT.

A plan does start to formulate for her, in her eyes and she gathers her things that would be coming with her. It would be humiliating when she was already feeling so low if she cried when found out where she was staying, when she boards the Enterprise and meet dozens to hundreds of people.

It would be awful to break down in front of all those people, so she envisions a scalpel in hand and cut out her imaginary heart, the one that held all the feelings. There were two types of doctors, the one who put away their feelings and the ones who kept them. She would take out her poor heart, THE FOOL, which must be diseased at least at this point and put it in a jar, put it away on a shelf, and get through these next few weeks.

Linda could let her heart sit up on a top shelf, heal from its afflictions, and then when she was ready, she would take it back down; then she could feel all the feelings. Put her foolish heart back where it needed to be later, because right now she needs to compartmentalize and focus on her career, on her path ahead, on the future ahead. She’d be meeting hundreds of new people by the end of the week. She can’t go there feeling like a frail and pathetic version state of herself, with tears streaming down her face.

She would be alright, and taking out her parts right now would help if that favor was still withstanding. After all, it had been years since she had met the Stranges, since uncomfortably sitting in one of Stephen’s lectures after their breakup and wondering. She found out later, he hadn’t been faithful to her either even, along with not telling her he had a wife. Linda makes the call anyway, and it picks up, it was still them and thankfully it was Clea on the phone.

❝ You may not remember me, Mrs Strange, but it is Linda Carter. ❞

“I do remember you, is this about that favor?”

❝ Yes, actually. I am intended to ship out on a starship in less than a week, and I need to place to stay in that time. ❞

“I think we could be that place for you. That’s not too much to ask. We are still in the same place. Are you okay, or are you sure you’ll be okay?”

❝ I am fine, okay, eager to get starbound again is all, and it will be okay. I am over that, kind of had to be when he would guest lecture in some of my final year courses. I am okay. ❞

Diseased heart on the shelf and still feeling like a fool. I am difficult, I am unhappy, and I am going to end up alone.

[idyllcy]

boy it's not that complicated (you should stay in my good graces)

word count: 20.6k || F1 AU || full fic: Ao3 Link || banner by @chesue00

summary: Thank god you went to grab coffee first race of the season.

"That was my coffee."

You pause with the cup, blinking at the guy who's just decided to approach you.

Blue eyes... blonde (his roots are showing) hair, blue and white racing suit on his skin, and you tilt your head. It wasn't as if you were planning on drinking the coffee, you just wanted to move it out of the way so you could make another cup, but how it almost makes you wanna mess with him more. It's bad to mess with the drivers too much, though.

"And who might you be?"

"Leon? Leon S Kennedy. Newest driver of Stratcom."

You tap your chin. Right. The new driver scouted from Raccoon.

"Yeah, the neck says it all."

Leon raises a brow incredulously as you laugh, holding the coffee still as you laugh into your palm. Heavens, you're having fun. You grin at him, eyes squinted in amusement as you calm yourself through deep breaths, failing when you catch a glance of his face again, fanning your face, lost in your own world of amusement. When you catch a glance of your watch, you straighten up almost immediately, exhaling and catching your breath as you calm yourself.

You put Leon's coffee down with a nearly apologetic nod.

"I wasn't planning on drinking it."

"Who might you be?"

"One of the many men behind your team."

"You don't look very... man."

Your lips quirk up in amusement and you coo. "Oh, really?"

You hand him his coffee as yours finishes, boots clicking as you saunter down the hall. Leon stares at his cup and drinks it, sighing as the coffee takes effect slowly throughout the day, watching as the reserves drive back and the engineers figure out what to change. He should be out there, but it seems Stratcom operates slightly differently from Raccoon. Maybe that was what came with a bigger company. Yet, he hangs back anyway, watching as Hunnigan talks to... you. He feels like he should be surprised. Yet, he isn't that much, finding that it's alot more female-dominant in Stratcom than he was expecting.

"How's the car?"

Hunnigan spins around as you continue to look at the numbers, tapping your chin as you huff.

"The tires are thinning out too much after a lap."

"Should we change them?"

"The data from last seasons says yes."

"To the medium ones?"

You nod. "Were we using soft ones?"

"Not that I know of."

Leon wonders whose performance engineer you really are. You seem to be his from the way you're talking to Hunnigan, and he raises a brow as you point at a set of tires.

"Those?"

"I'm sure rookie can handle them." You hum. "Leon, drive."

Leon raises a brow, and you wink.

"Come on. Show everyone a lap."

Leon looks to Hunnigan for approval, sure that he wasn't exactly supposed to be here since the practices were for the car and not him. "Hunnigan?"

"If you're up for it."

Leon takes the helmet from the engineers, sighing as he sits into his car, checking the numbers and wheel, staring at the data presented to him as he feels the wheel. Between break and practice, Leon had to learn everything new with the Stratcom vehicles, and he finds himself surprised at how well-adjusted his hands are. Maybe the mold of his hands was for this exact purpose. He wouldn't know. All he had been doing in practice was grinding as hard as he could. Moving up in companies didn't mean that he would be able to match their old drivers.

"Everything feel alright?" You don't look at him, and he raises a brow.

"It's fine."

"I need good."

"Good."

You check the stats one last time, and let the car out of the garage. Hunnigan connects with Leon to check how his vehicle feels, and you watch the stats on the monitor as Leon finishes a lap, checking all the stats. It starts fine with the newer tires, and you glance at the sensors and let Hunnigan know for Leon to fix a sensor, watching to check how many laps he can take before the tires start wearing out. You update Hunnigan on information that she relays to Leon, and you watch as he speaks back to her. He rings in your headset as you're connected, and you read out information for him. Apparently, he's an ungrateful brat, though.

"God, you talk too much."

"Thanks, I'll talk less once you make it out of this race alive."

Leon makes it in for a fifth lap, and you're taken off the line, back to watching the sensor data as you tell Hunnigan to have Leon reset another sensor. You take the note down on the side with a sharpie to run a sensor check before he goes out on the field again the next practice. This one was yielding a bunch of issues that you were sure had been solved, and you grumble as you stare at the engine. The tenth lap yields the necessity of a pit stop, and you tell Hunnigan to jump back.

"Box, now."

"What's wrong?" Leon frowns at Hunnigan's command, pulling into the pit.

"Vibrations. The vehicle isn't steady." You call over it, making changes you deem necessary within the two seconds that everything is changed, and Leon speeds off again. You check to see if the danger has subsided, and you hum when it has. The next score laps are smooth, and when Hunnigan has Leon pull in to do a better check, you hop off your desk and get your hands on. Leon watches as you glance at the numbers and then adjust sensors, sending him out again for a final handful of laps with different tires to check how Leon's doing. You find that he does better with the medium-grip tires, but you still wonder if you could move up in terms of hardness to see how well he drives with them. You make one final pit stop with a full change to have his tires changed, and you watch as Leon struggles with control.

Hunnigan tells Leon to pull over, but Leon turns her down.

"Leon. You aren't controlling them well."

"I know what I'm doing." Leon huffs. "We didn't have the funds for this back in Raccoon. Let me race a little more at a lower speed."

You watch the numbers as he slows down, and you watch as he makes a dozen rounds before returning to regular speed, much more adjusted now.

"Is this alright?"

"It's good." Hunnigan reads from your hand motion, telling Leon to return to the pit.

"He's a fast learner."

"We wouldn't have picked him had he not." Hunnigan glances at the numbers as Leon pulls in, and you sigh.

"We'll start you with hard tires at the start to keep you away from a box for as long as possible." Hunnigan nods at you. "We'll try something else during fp2 to see if you adjust and respond well to it. Take a break. You did well."

You frown at the numbers recorded, and you have the engineers check on the sensors on the car. There isn't much else you can do, and a brief talk with the majority of the team confirms that there shouldn't be any other problems, but the car is taken out for one last drive to check that everything is in order, and the garage is closed for the short break in between. You don't get a break during that time, an informal meeting of engineers gathering together as you go over what has been adjusted and how it would affect performance. You enjoy it, truly, but you're also tired of talking to some of these old men so often.

Too bad summer break has just finished.

You spin the pen in hand as you continue staring at the infinite prints that the printer spat out at your request, and you groan.

"Everything good?"

"I don't have any of Leon's stats. How does he drive?" You flip through the binder.

"He drives... normal. If there even is a bar for that. We're not sure how he's going to react to the rest of the drivers, but so far his driving is normal from his history." Hunnigan hums. "His tires wear out often, but he's good at overtaking. He's horrible at car management, though."

"He's not going to like falling back."

"Right. It's also why you found that he did so many more pit stops."

"Well, awful as he is with management, at least it's not like Krauser." You mumble. "He drives a little too aggressively."

"But he yields results. You know that."

"Yeah." You huff. "Well, he won't be winning now that Ada's back on the track."

"No one wins against Ada."

"Yeah." You mumble. "Her defense is too good. She's too good at quali."

"She's just good at being fast." You hum. "Not that I'm complaining. I love seeing women on the track in those cars."

"Wrong team." Hunnigan rolls her eyes. "Who knows. You might be a spy."

"With a salary like this? In your dreams." You roll your eyes back. "Wesker couldn't pay me half as much as this. He doesn't even like me."

"He doesn't like anyone."

"Fair."

Fp2 runs around and you go back to adjusting the car, not too many things going wrong this time. The time slot truly messes with you, and you yawn as you press another cup of coffee to your lips. Hunnigan talks to the driver on comms as you read through the numbers, surprised at how long it can last when Leon isn't at the wheel.

"Jesus, Leon sucks at car management."

One of the engineers in the back holds back a laugh, and you grimace.

"That wasn't funny, John."

"I know." He snorts.

You learn to make peace with the fact that Leon's going to be making far more pit stops than necessary in the race.

Leon warms up in the morning before qualifying, stepping to the side as Hunnigan runs through the data with the rest of the team, watching as someone else drives his car around to run final check-ups. He listens as Hunnigan runs it down for him, his lip quirking upward as he grins.

"Hunnigan, you always look great without your glasses. Give me your number when we get back?"

Hunnigan rolls her eyes. "We're on duty."

"Wrap it up, white boy." You interject. "You get to ask her out when you aren't wearing your car out in three laps."

"Just admit it. You're jealous I don't flirt with you during quali."

"Leon Scott Kennedy. My job is to make sure you make it out of a race alive. If you really wanna do all of your publicity nonsense you should really go find Ada now that she's back."

"I missed her." Leon clicks his tongue.

"He didn't." Hunnigan sighs. "They're best friends in private."

"Hunnigan!"

You shrug, grin on your face as you tilt your head.

"Truly?"

"Everything they do is for publicity."

"I see." You grin. "Well, if you ever want to go the extra mile for publicity, be sure to blow her a kiss when she places on the podium today."

"You don't think I'll win?"

You smile. "God knows what weird upgrade Ada added to her own car now that she's back."

Leon finds you frustrating. He knows his main engineers are females. Hunnigan was incredible with how smooth she was in terms of operation, but despite his best chances, she wasn't the greatest at understanding what he meant by certain words. She's older than he is, if he thinks about it. He assumed that since Stratcom was bigger than Raccoon, maybe they'd have the more experienced at the engineering deck. Well, not his problem. As long as he could race better than he did in Raccoon.

His time is better despite his wheels being worn out. Arguably, he's placed somewhere up with Krauser now. He used to dream of that back in Raccoon.

"Good to go." You confirm.

Leon starts with his time as you take note of Hunnigan's screen, watching your own numbers as the sensors indicate everything. You don't need to talk to Leon all that much. It's mostly Hunnigan's job, but the good thing you'd argue is that Hunnigan isn't one for all that much talking either. You end up being the one to call some things when she's too focused on having him move forward. She doesn't quite reign Leon in. There's a lack of balance that you don't really want to bring up to the superiors. Leon's new. If you request someone who clicks with him better, it wouldn't be too great on either end. Besides, Hunnigan's the best to offer outside of Krauser's nearly invincible team.

You take a peek at Krauser's time so far, and you hum.

"Aim for first, but make sure to land in q3." Hunnigan reads the positioning.

"Got it."

There isn't much to say to Leon when he's in qualifying. He's plenty capable of setting good times. You sit on the side as he makes laps around, placing first out of the majority. If you were right, Ada should be in the slot once the next car moves out. You love her. It doesn't matter if she's in Wesker, she's iconic.

Well, considering the publicity, Leon might just speed up once Ada hits the track.

You watch as she enters the track, and you grin as Leon's speed grows quicker and quicker on the track.

"Is this because of Ada?"

You tap the screen for Hunnigan, and she nods.

"Leon you have a five-second gain. You have one final lap." Hunnigan checks his time.

"Make that six."

You nod. "Sensors are good."

Leon drifts in the corner turns, speeding up as fast as he can, and you hold your breath as he races past the finish line with the six seconds he promised. Time ends as he drives back, and you check the car. It's fine. A lot of systems are roughed up because Leon sucks at taking care of vehicles, but it's not awful. If he drives slower than this, he should be able to place on the podium if he tries hard enough. Well, granted he doesn't end up in more pit stops than necessary. That's always an awful loss of time.

"Leon." You call for him as he grumbles in the car. A short break in between before q3.

"What?"

"Stop trying to drift. I know Nascar makes it look beautiful and all, but without control, you're going to kill both the car and you. You're also losing speed when you do that."

"It's what I did in Raccoon."

"You're creating more drag when you drift."

He huffs.

"How do you not know that? Did Raccoon let you drift?"

"You didn't watch my old races?" He raises a brow. "I drive dangerously. I corner opponents."

"It's great, but only works if you manage to wear them down. From the stats Hunnigan got of you, you aren't causing enough losses in time for others. You can't chase at your own expense. Chase at theirs."

"Then adjust my car."

"Leon. This race is testing waters for you. Either you do what you do good, or you play safe."

Leon thinks about it.

"I'll do what I do good."

"Well, you better yield results tomorrow during the race."

Leon offers you a half-assed smile.

"I want you to back it up on the attitude if you don't place, white boy."

"Is that all I am to you? White boy?"

You shrug, turning on your heel. "Better get rested. Q3 starts soon."

Leon places fifth in the q3, and you raise a brow at him. Had he been the fastest, he would have been able to do better, but he didn't. You don't exchange words with him when he returns, brow raised in amusement as he clicks his tongue at you. He's going to say something with that smartass tongue of his.

"Engineers."

"Can't say shit when we make your car, Leon." You hum. "Rest up for the race tomorrow. Better get a move on."

"Aren't you supposed to work with me?"

"Not with that attitude, no."

"You ready to fix my car tomorrow?"

"As long as you get on that podium, pretty boy."

Your lips quirk up as you watch a furious red paint Leon's face.

Not used to being flirted with back, huh?

When the big day rolls around, Leon finds himself next to you again, staring at the car as you make a final adjustment and check the numbers on the screen. Hunnigan helps out, and Leon watches as his car is rebuilt and he's told to drive out into formation. Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all he can— he sounds like Wesker right now. At least he placed fifth. It's not too hard to race past others. If he plays his cards right, he should be... safe. At the very least, he should be able to force others into a corner as promised.

The first handful of laps are fine. He manages to race past to third place, steering steady, car completely overtaking them as he gains on second. That's all that matters. His car is doing fine, and Hunnigan hasn't told him anything. Then, by the time he's steadied his spot, it's become apparent that the car has an issue. He speaks up, radio button pressed on his end.

"Hunnigan, car feels unsteady."

"Box—"

You put a hand on her to stop her.

"Fall back." You pull at her mic, eyes still on your screen. "Car's overheating. Don't box yet."

Hunnigan nods. You don't mean to overtake her, but it takes too long to get her to tell Leon, and you watch as Leon falls back in the race, still keeping his position in front of the majority of the cars. He's already placing better than he has before. He's aiming for first, but you're aiming to get him out of it alive. You don't want another incident of the car spinning and crashing. The halo was a saving grace, but it wasn't something you wished to rely on. It doesn't matter if he wanted his car customized so that he could overtake and drive even more aggressively. You understand he's aiming to one-up Ada since she should be rusty, but you're not letting him hurt himself.

"You sure?" Hunnigan raises a brow.

"You make the call, but the vitals are all steady. The engine's overheating right now. The wheels can hold out for at least two more laps. They don't have any required pit stops this race."

"Got it."

"Twelve more seconds, and then get back to us to see if it's better." You nod at Hunnigan, back to watching the numbers. Leon falls back behind the other cars, and you keep an eye on the car as the engine cools down.

"Still unsteady."

"Box." Hunnigan orders.

"Pit crew on standby." You speak into the mic, watching as the car moves through the circuit to get to the pit. "Five seconds!"

Pit crew stations themselves as Leon drives in, and Hunnigan nods at the numbers. You keep an eye on the screen as he speeds back off. The numbers have returned to normal, and depending on the feel that Leon gets out on the road, you can rest easy for another handful of laps.

"It's good now."

"Got it."

You sit back in the seat watching as Leon races past the people who had left him behind, shooting past two cars as he returns to the top seven. You wonder if he can race past another four, but it seems that he's alright, forcing himself past another car as Hunnigan tells him his DRS is active. He flies past another one on the curve as he huffs.

"Tell that performance engineer that I'm gonna get my stupid car fixed for the next race."

"Leon, focus on the road." Hunnigan sighs.

It doesn't take long for Leon to be back for another pit stop, this time on your command, his tires worn out too fast, changed into something slightly harder as he races off again. You wonder if that's enough. It should be. You watch for the rest of his car as he enters the final leg of the race, third place returned to him after the pit, his driving growing increasingly more aggressive. You're glad you gave him harder tires, and you watch as he goes neck to neck with Krauser makes you amused. Krauser doesn't respond well, nearly forcing him into the wall as Leon falls back. You're glad Hunnigan makes the call, and Leon takes third place behind Krauser for the safety of himself.

You watch as Leon finishes up on his side of the race, top three tucked under his belt as he slows and parks in third, hopping off his car with a wink and kiss blown at Ada. You raise a brow at the broadcast, headphones retired to your neck as his car is checked. You didn't make any changes that were illegal, the other engineers made sure of it, so you watch as Leon races over to the team. You step to the back of the team, Hunnigan smiling at you, and you hum. Another win for the team.

You adore Ada, but truly, she was the only good thing in Wesker's company. Luis was only there to be the face card when Ada wasn't present, and though he placed top ten always, he never placed on the podium. You're impressed that Leon managed to place, and over the cheering, you hear Leon yell a "thank you" followed by "Ingrid" and you hold a laugh back.

"First name, eh?"

"Leon." She sighs.

Oh, right. You should get to those edits as soon as the podium high wears off from Leon. You still need to know what he needs adjusted. It wouldn't be surprising if he wanted something that his old car has that he's used. You almost laugh at yourself for how work-brained you are despite placing on the podium, but after growing used to Krauser on the podium, you're kind of unsurprised. You have faith in the team. Besides, with Ada back, it wasn't like Krauser could really place... first anymore.

The team's win is celebrated how you expect it to be, champagne popped and alcohol thoroughly passed around, and you stay for a little to thank the pit crew and engineers, settling for the corner of the room when you finish, water in hand, telling people that it was tequila. The water is cool against your lips, and you watch as the rest of the team parties. You're sure you'll be getting random confessions from random people if the night progresses any further. You really only talk to Leon, though. It doesn’t matter.

When debriefing finishes, you press your mug to your lips, blinking at the numbers as you watch Hunnigan speak. There's going to be a change in... race engineer? It's surprising to you, and you do a double take as it's announced that Krauser has left the team. He paid the fine? Who even— oh. You blink at the announcement that he's been moved to Plaga. Ah. One of their investors, who was it again, the Salazars? They must have paid the fine. Krauser is always looking for more money anyway.

"Which brings us to the point. We are moving up Helena Harper, our best F2 racer this past season. Hunnigan will become her race engineer, and we are moving up our performance engineer for Leon to race engineer."

"What." You blink at the screen, blood running cold. You did not sign up for this promotion. Highly unprofessional of them, but it does explain why you had been called into a meeting last morning with everyone else. Hunnigan had hinted at it, and you had said you'd be okay with taking the position if it came to it. You didn't realize it meant that you would be promoted on the spot. God, now you have to work with a whole new performance engineer that isn't yourself. You might die.

You hear Leon groan in the back.

Helena is coming as the new driver. That’s truly all you pick up outside of your own complaints, and you sigh. You're not excited for your own training. You understand all of the numbers that Hunnigan sees on the weekends, but it doesn't mean you like it. She doesn't need to make that many calls with Leon during the race because it seems that he's been racing alright, but you know from the role of managing the car that Leon wears the car down fast. The calls you'd have to make would be arguably more frequent. Well, not that Hunnigan was doing a bad job. She left a lot of the strategy to Leon. You probably wouldn't. The look in Leon's eyes when he thanked Hunnigan might've been gratuity, but he hungers for more... what in the wattpad bullshit are you saying? Leon wanted to be better. He craves the seat of winner after his years of publicity with Ada. It doesn't take a genius to know. It's why he swapped over to Stratcom.

"You gonna help me win?"

"I don't know, Leon. Will I?"

"You have to."

"Won't motivate me if I don't get something in return. You get paid glorious amounts of money and I get little when compared to you."

"You want a cut of my pay?"

"Nah." You grin. "I'll tell you what this greed of my craves after each race. Don't worry. Won't ever ask for more than ten percent of your salary."

Leon grimaces. Ten percent is still quite the cut.

"Won't ask for money. I'll let you pick eventually." You hum. "For the next race, a dinner in Italy."

"Sure you not asking me out on a date?"

"In your dreams, white boy."

Leon shrugs, offering his hand anyway.

You shake his hand on the offer.

Wednesday rolls around and you're flown over to Monza, Italy. Preparation on Thursday throws you in for a loop, blinking harshly in the morning meeting with the people and debrief on all of the new changes. Leon's changes had been implemented, and Helena had a new vehicle as well, which makes you question just how much they were stacking on Helena. Is it equity? You're not going to ask. The red-eye flight is enough to make you grouchy. You don't enjoy the hours, coffee in hand as you wonder if you should just invest in espresso shots.

At the very least, you get through the morning meetings and understand Leon's god-awful adjustments on his car. You need to watch him practice tomorrow. Leon's in on Thursday in the morning, visible grouch on his face when he lands, and you sigh as you wave at him.

"No paparazzi?"

"It's why you take red-eyes." You yawn, beckoning him over with a wave as the two of you step over to the chauffeur.

"Why'd you pick me up personally?"

"Saw the edits made to your car. Need your approval. They sent me over with a tablet connected to the PC. Take a look."

Leon looks at the numbers, brow raised as he blinks at the photos that are on the tablet, frowning at the wheel.

"They didn't make it how I wanted it."

"That's literally what you were describing."

"No." He frowns. "Button placement. The reason Hunnigan and I were barely talking was because I kept pressing the wrong button. My muscle memory can only go so far."

"We have a dummy, so you can practice with that. We'll move buttons around next race. You told the performance engineer, right?"

"I don't understand why he didn't understand I wanted the button down at the bottom."

"He's new. Cut him some slack." You pause. "Or don't. You're the driver."

The two of you hop off as you thank the chauffeur, and you wave Leon goodbye as you beeline to the back. You're kind of glad you don't need to look at all of the statistics for performance, but you're also not happy that you have to do all of the smiling and chatting with Leon. Well, unhappy wouldn't be correct. Leon's just got an ego big enough to blow up the track, that's all. You'll help him place. You're not paid nearly enough for anything else. You help out the team with checking the stats on the car, and Leon lingers in the back for the track walk. You told him to wait, and both of you are fairly surprised he listened.

You make some final edits as Leon watches, and he has his own input, pointing certain things out and asking why some other things were that way, and the other engineers explain to him as you talk to the mechanics. Most of the edits are approved by Leon, and you have him sit in to have a feel at it, and once his concerns are all solved, he gives the approval nod. You give him a thumbs up back, checking the stats from the previous year to start thinking of strategy. The strategy engineer hands you a file for you to read through, and you sigh.

"Relay that to me."

"Track walk!" You call for Leon.

You read through the strategy while out on the walk with Leon, looking through the booklet as you pause to consider how much of this Leon would actually use.

"Are you planning on listening to us? Or is it going to be your own again?"

"Do you think I should?"

"Shouldn't you be asking the strategist?"

"You're the one in the mic."

"Fair." You hum. "Do you want to place?"

"Your job is to help me place."

"Then, you keep it in the back of your mind while driving. Changes can always happen." You hum. "We'll aim for first, but don't chase someone down at the expense of your own car."

"How can I force Ada into it?"

"She's gonna pit only once if the race allows it." You hum. "She knows how to take care of her car."

"And Krauser?"

"Plaga offered him more money. His driving style will be the same, but it's also worth mentioning that the Plaga cars aren't in top shape. You know how they are."

"Stars?"

"Not your problem unless you somehow fall neck to neck with Redfield." You shake your head. "He's the beast of fifth place. Just use him as a guard dog."

"That's a little—"

"It's rude, but it's the truth." You flip through the book, jumping on the track. "We'll send you in medium tires, and you'll probably stay in medium unless you want soft."

"Probably not." Leon shakes his head. "Are we pitting extra?"

"From your performance, most likely."

Leon clicks his tongue.

"Focus on chasing and pushing others into pit stops. Second place... just keep an eye out for anyone else in the back." You pause. "You can also try defensive with Helena."

"The two car drs defense."

"Yep." You glance at the turn. "No rain prediction for tomorrow."

"Alright." Leon raises a brow. "In the case that there is rain, it's baby for light rain, royal for heavy downpour."

"And medium?"

"It's a gradient. Just tell me a shade of blue between it."

"That's a lot of colors." You hum. "Storm is midnight."

"Got it."

"Time..." You pause. "How insane are you willing to sound to the public?"

"I'm already crazy to them."

"Then, instead of colors, we use HSL."

"God, you're crazy." Leon pauses. "Saturation for time and Luminance for position? Color's always going to be blue."

"Yeah. You able to learn that before a rain race?" You raise a brow. "We can draw a chart."

"Better start using it soon. There's no wind here but we can practice in downtime."

Fp1 and Fp2 run fast for Leon. He's adjusted to the wheel, dialing in to you to speak, telling you how the car feels, and you report it to the rest of the engineers. Adjustments are made as he goes for another two laps, thumbs up given as everyone retires for the night. You flip through the strategies from the engineers as you sit in the hotel bar lounge, drink pressed to your lips as you mark through the file.

"Fancy seeing you here."

"Leon." You raise a brow. "I thought you had a house here."

"Under construction." He hums. "What's a hotel stay for me on my salary, though?"

"Yeah, I can see that." You hum. "You ready for quali?"

"How long are you staying after? For that dinner."

"Two days? I fly out shortly after."

"Figured." He pauses. "Will you pay if I place first?"

"If you place first? Sure." You hum. "Team goes out on a dinner anyways. I just wanted a local place since you're from around here."

"I stay with family when I'm in Italy, yeah. Maybe I'll take you to my nonna's place."

"Bringing me home already? Bold move, Kennedy." You smile.

"If I place first, we're going to nonna's."

"What makes you think I wanna meet your grandma?"

"Am I not hot enough for you?"

You eye him, shaking your head. "Too bad you're not my type."

Leon does well. He always does. You take him to third place, halfway into the Grand Prix in Italy, and Leon clicks his tongue.

"When are we pitting?"

"You need to pit?" You raise a brow. "What's losing control?"

"Nothing. I'm calculating whether or not it would be smart for me to start cornering Krauser and force him to retire."

You can practically hear the venom in Leon's voice.

"FIA's going to beat your ass if you actually pull through."

"Stratcom's known for aggression. Yes or no?'

"If you do, you need five seconds from him to pit."

"Copy that."

You watch as Leon chases Krauser in the back, tail catching dangerously close as DRS activates, sending him soaring past Krauser.

"Got it."

"Good job."

Leon gains a ten-second lead over thirteen laps, and you listen to Leon and his words.

"How's the car?"

"Seems alright."

"If we need to pit, you have the time too. Keep going. Eleven behind, four in front."

"Leave it to me." Leon clicks.

You watch as Leon goes neck to neck with Ada, eyes on the road as he barely squeezes past her in a corner, foot on the gas.

"Two second gain."

"Need more." He grumbles. "Mic off. Call for pit only."

"Received."

Despite the banter that Leon seems to offer you outside of the car, you know better than to hit his buttons while he's in a car racing two hundred miles an hour. You keep and eye on it, all channels to you open, waiting for the word to pit. Leon's done an alright job, and he's already boxed once, but it seems to be fine to just let him keep going. You're not to pressed, and it seems the performance engineer isn't all that much either. You catch a quick glance, and nothing sits in the red. That's fine.

"Do you think I can keep first?"

"You're Leon S Kennedy. If it's gonna be anyone, it'll be you." You hum. No harm in some words of encouragement.

"That's what I like to hear, sweetheart."

You blink with a concerned look on your face, and you watch as Ada closes in on Leon. His car's wearing down by staying in first, and though his car seemed to have been doing fine, a pit stop in the next handful of laps wasn't out of the question.

"Push two more laps then box. Ada behind one second."

"Son of a—"

You watch as Leon's cut off, and you hold back a laugh.

"Don't get too cocky, Kennedy." You hum. "Tail behind. Twenty laps left."

"Roger."

Leon circles two more laps before circling back to the pit, full change as he's told to go rogue.

You're sure you've never seen Leon actually drive how he wants to, and he combines with Helena to ward off the rest of the cars before racing into the final ten laps with a bolt, gaining distance behind Ada as he's on the final three laps. You're surprised he even knows how to drive defense.

"Time."

"Three laps. 2.4 seconds behind Ada."

Leon tries speeding past her, cutting corners and trying to wear her car down, but it's to no avail as she cuts him off each time. Nothing's called because no rules are broken, and the two touch wheels at once point. The rest of the engineers watch the race with their breaths held as they make the final lap, and Leon grows increasingly more frustrated, curses flying through the radio as he tries overtaking again, cut off as Ada swerves.

"Fuck!"

"You got this, Leon. You're placing podium no matter what. Just focus on overtaking. You got this." You read. "One second. DRS active."

Leon barely squeezes past Ada on a corner, grumbling as he presses on the gas. His car gains only a little over Ada’s but it’s the finish line, so it doesn’t matter.

He breaks past the finish line first just barely first, front of his car ahead mere centimeters. The rest of the team cheers as you smile at the screen, lips quirked up. You get why Hunnigan enjoyed this job. The adrenaline from winning could be addicting. You tap your cheek as you're pulled in for a hug, and you laugh. Your head is spinning with too much dopamine for you to be able to cheer or yell. It's too loud for that.

"Beautifully done, Leon."

"Thanks. Thank you for your hard work."

"Pleasure's mine."

You pop off the headphones and disconnect to cheer, racing over where Leon has parked, jumping with the rest of the team as Leon spots you in the crowd, jumping over to you with a yell as you barely catch him, caught off guard. The rest of the engineers hold you up as you stumble, and he runs back to Helena. Helena laughs as Leon cheers. You clap for him as everyone settles down for the podium. Awards are given, and Leon shakes his champagne to spray at Ada, much to her complaints.

"You asshole!" She sprays her own back at him.

"Hey!"

The media goes insane over it. It's normal for them to. People drink up every single interaction between the two, and the two of them feed into whatever fantasies people have. When half of Leon's bottle is gone, it's pointed at you instead, and you hold your hands up to cover your face from Leon's champagne, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You yell in response, and the rest of the bottle bubbles out on its own. Leon's hair is sticky with champagne, shaking his head as the water flies everywhere, laugh on his lips as his smile lines are evident, head thrown back in glee with the trophy in his hands.

"You good?" Hunnigan laughs as you groan.

"I need to shower now."

She purses her lips. "Insanely hilarious back and forth between the two of you, by the way."

You stay back for a while for autographs, raising a brow when a fan presents marriage papers to you as a joke, shrugging as you ask him how much he makes in a year.

Leon steps up behind you, taking the papers.

"Not enough."

"Oh, hey, star of the show." You raise a brow. "He didn't even get to answer."

"Nonna wants you for dinner."

"Tonight? What about your afterparty?"

"Italian tradition. Always gonna be nonna's on Sunday night." He signs the back of the marriage papers instead, forcing the pen back into your hand as you raise a brow. "I'll be every year from now on. Come on."

"What?"

"We're getting married."

"In your dreams, white boy." You pull out a notepad, signing it and handing it to the fan.

"Kennedy's a nice last name, hm?"

"I like mine as is." You wave. "I'm retiring."

"Leon! What's that about Nonna?"

"Taking my engineer for a nice dinner." Leon hums, winking at the crowd. "Promised dinner at. my favorite place if I placed. Favorite place happens to be my beloved nonna's."

They cheer.

Leon laughs. "Victory celebrations with a friend."

Dinner is great. You're thrilled when Leon's grandma actually cooks, eyes practically glowing as you thank her. Leon translates the majority of the time, telling you with red on his ears of how she's delighted that he's brought one of his engineers home finally. You answer any questions she has, and she tells you that her father used to be an engineer, and how Leon's grandfather used to take him to his go-kart practices. You listen intently, her pasta shoveled in your mouth as she helps you to another offering.

"Nonna."

"Nonna speaks french too, if you happen to know that."

"Grand-mère ta cuisine est le vrai MVP de cette cours." You give her a thumbs up, hand held over your mouth as she laughs.

"T'es trop mignionne!" She laughs. "Merci, chère fille."<br />

<small><small><small>'You're too cute!' 'thank you, sweet girl'</small></small></small>

"Merci pour cuisiner." You thank her. "Ah, je vais retourner l'année prochain."<br />

<small><small><small>'thank you for cooking.' 'Ah, I'm coming back next year'</small></small></small>

"Léon, sarà meglio che sia la fidanzata l'anno prossimo." The grandma points her fork at him.

"Nonna!"

She clicks her tongue.

You don't have the heart to tell Leon that you understand just enough Italian to understand what his grandma has just said to him. You'll play dumb. Arguably, it's for the better. You tilt your head as Leon waves his hand, and you laugh.

Leon takes you back to the hotel, smile on his face as he raises a brow.

"You owe me dinner?"

"Nuh uh. We didn't pay at mamie's." You shrug. "Look forward to what I'll get for helping you in next race."

Your debrief in the morning is enough to tear you from limb to limb.

"I'm not flirting back. It was just a congratulatory dinner." You argue.

"It's fine." Leon laughs. "I don't mind."

"Leon."

"My publicity is being a fuckboy. It's fine." He waves off the concern. "Rather than media stuff, I want my mic somewhere on top on my wheel."

"That can be arranged."

"Anything else?"

You note down what Leon says, doodles in the corner of your paper as you think of all the work that the data analysts are doing. You're exhausted from staying out til two with Leon last night, and though the pasta had been Michelin star-worthy, you were still tired. You yawn halfway through, and Leon raises a brow at you.

"You got a problem, racer?"

"If you call me that one more time I'm going to reach over this table and punch you." You grumble. 

The season is always nightmare after nightmare. You have little to no downtime in between races, and it becomes increasingly apparent that Ada's adapted to Leon's racing style in the next two races. No matter what adjustments are made, it seems that she just knows. It frustrates his engineers to no end, and by the meeting three races into the season, your head is thrown back in annoyance. Maybe you actually aren't being paid enough for this.

"Don't wanna work for me anymore?"

"No." You groan. "Give me a second."

Leon's trying. You're aware of that. You're also Ada's biggest fan, so you know well that she's one of the quickest thinkers on the grid alongside her engineer. Wesker has way too many years both on and off the track to know what calls to make at what points in time. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you are stuck questioning whether or not someone with more experience could do better than you, but you're also too spiteful to just step down from your position.

"Ada marathon. Tonight. My hotel room." You point at Leon.

"Don't need to tell me twice." Leon winks.

"That's 144 races." The strategy engineer grimaces.

"Then 144 races we will watch." You sigh. "I'll report everything to you tomorrow over coffee."

"Good luck." He sighs. "We can split half and half."

"72 races is still... a lot." You pause. "How about three-way?"

Leon sighs. "48 races per person sounds awful."

"Well, I know what I'll be doing tonight." You heave. "God, I need a smoke."

Leon raises a brow. "You don't even smoke."

"Gonna start today thanks to you."

"You're on 24 races from when she first started and then 24 of her most recent races." You point at the strategist. "I'll do the ones between that, and then Leon can do the middle races. We'll split it when the meeting's over."

"Got it."

The rest of the meeting runs over the logistics of the car, and you huddle with the other two to split up the races. You feel like a... Haikyuu character. Who are you? Oikawa? You're not trying to catch a case of being the worst anime villain to ever exist or something. You're sure this is normal. Ada may have never brought up how she prepares for races, but it doesn't take a genius to know how well-rounded she is on the track. She's too good at blocking overtakes. It's why Leon struggled. He may have been able to do it the first time because she had been caught off guard, but she was too good at what she did.

You note down how she drives, hands delicate on her wheel and eyes constantly on the watch. You listen to what Wesker tells her, noting everything of worth down, and you sigh when you watch the races she first started against Leon. You find that Leon's grown much more tame in racing, his earliest racing style wild and violent, cornering people into walls and blocking overpasses. You find that he blocks Ada at one point, leading to his first win of that season. After that, it becomes apparent that he only needs to pass Ada, preferably when she pits. Ada used to pit twice rather than once. Maybe that was the strategy needed.

You take the note down.

  Pit crew speed ↑ + Leon aggression ↑ = stopping Ada?

You start the next race.

There's something about Leon's old way of driving that Ada wasn't able to control.

An element of chaos? An element of a lack of understanding? An element of unpredictability? You don't know. You should study Leon's old driving style prior to joining Stratcom as well. It's always much more suffocating in a bigger company when you get to take more risks in a small one. You raise a brow at the race that Leon and Ada trade first and second like it's second nature, and you get where this whole publicity stunt started. It's hard to ignore the way they look at each other with such intensity when they're on the podiums and listening to each other talk.

You place a hand over your mouth. "...wait... I dig this."

You go back to the rest of Ada's races prior to her hiatus, and you find that it's truly the lack of predictability that Leon used to display.

Never let 'em know your next move... or something.

You knock out halfway through and finish the rest in the morning with your coffee, lack of new things to note down as you head down for breakfast with the other two.

"So?"

"You go first." You sigh. "Mike?"

"Sorry. I stayed up way too late." He sighs. "She's an all-rounder. I don't have any notes other than that. She struggled at first in her first twenty races but by her thirtieth she was picking up pace and analyzing her opponents. It's kind of impressive. But her most recent races indicate that Leon's just not posing a threat. It seems that she can just predict everything."

"You wanna hear my takeaway?" You raise a brow. "Leon needs to start racing like a madman again. That's my takeaway."

"No way." Mike reasons. "That's not safe for him."

"It's the only way Leon's gonna be able to outperform Ada within the rest of the year for that position of champion." You reason. "If he doesn't go back to that unpredictability factor he used to have, then he'll never outsmart Ada."

"Oh, so I need to go rogue again? Because I was going to say that Ada struggles with predicting people who don't have a typical race strat." Leon hums. "She struggled with predicting Wesker before he became her boss. She struggles with unpredictability. I just have to throw her off enough. She's never going to expect me to go back to driving like a madman now that I'm in Stratcom."

"Upper management's going to be mad if we waste all our resources on you." Mike clicks his tongue.

"They won't complain when I bring back their first gold in forever."

"Mike, you keep it under wraps, alright?" You raise a brow. "Just proceed as normal."

"Not that they'd believe me anyway." He gets up from his chair. "I'll leave it to you two. I'll send you a plan anyway. I don't expect either of you to follow it."

You give him a thumbs up.

"If we place podium, what do you want?"

"Oh, you still remember?" You raise a brow. "What even is there to do in Texas? Oh. Dinner again?"

"If I place first your treat."

"Alright. I doubt that."

"You really?"

"I don't know. You've gotta show me, Kennedy."

Leon places fifth in qualifying. You're unsurprised, but what comes as a surprise is Leon telling you through the mic that he has it under control. All you need to do tell him when to pit. You suppose that it's a lot more amusing this way, but mic off or not, you have not much of a choice when Leon's just straight up shredding his tires.

"Box, box. Pit, Leon." You grumble. "You're only allowed to be crazy when I give you the flag."

"I know what I'm doing."

"No the fuck you don't." You hum. "You're losing time if you're the only one shredding your tires. Learn to force others into the pit and not yourself, hm?"

"I can't force Ada into the pit unless she's right in front of me."

"It can be anyone in front of you. Surely you've picked up a thing or two from all those youtube videos."

"You make me sound so unprofessional by saying that."

"Pit crew." You click the button.

Leon slides in and out, gaining back his position in top five.

"Alright. Tell me how to."

"You know how to. You used to do it."

"Say less."

Leon forces past the car in fourth in arguably one of the most narrow turns you've ever seen, grimacing at the view from his car as he laughs into the mic.

"Did you catch that?"

"I'd like to catch something bigger. Keep pushing."

"Tsk. Was that not enough?"

"You can do better."

"Roger that."

You watch as Leon slides through, and you glance at the weather.

"Rain in twenty laps."

"Color."

"I'd say something like sky blue. Sky blue, 6 percent, two c west." You read from the prediction. "Do you think you'll need wet tires?"

"Sky blue, huh? Probably not. We'll see. How many left?"

"Thirty."

You know the announcers are going to say something weird about the weather system you've set up, but quite frankly you do not care. It's not your problem. Leon cuts into third, and you sigh into the mic. Time to let the poor guy do what he's been wanting to this whole time.

"Engage... chaos."

"Oh, I've been waiting for that one." He laughs, turning his mic off as he pushes, engine revving. Smoke comes out as a result, but the performance engineer doesn't mention anything of it. It looks normal from your end, and he swerves to cut off Krauser from second, no doubtedly laughing from the dopamine high his brain was experiencing.

"Reel it in, Kennedy. Don't sell yourself to Ada yet."

"Can I stay second?"

"Engine looks good." You read.

"Got it, sweetheart."

You make another face.

Yet, he stays steady for the majority of the race, cutting Krauser off without needing you to ask him to, forcing Krauser into a position that you're sure the poor guy is NOT going to like. Leon forces Krauser into corners and slowing down, defending his position of second while no one's close to him in the back.

"Redfield in fourth, 1.2 seconds— 0.7 seconds from Krauser. Push, Leon." You read.

"Don't need to tell me that twice."

Leon pushes past Krauser and leaves him to deal with Chris, racing to the front as he tries closing in the gap between him and Ada.

"Gap?"

"Twelve seconds. Come on, Kennedy."

"Rogue when arrived?"

"Wear her out."

"Roger that."

You wonder if Leon actually understands what you mean by wearing her out, but you don't question it too much. If he doesn't then he can just try speeding past her based on pure adrenaline. His car was adjusted to be able to hit 240 in optimal conditions, and you watch as the rain arrives.

"Wet on track?"

"Dry." He reports. "Not too much rain yet. Lap?"

"Fifteen left."

"Copy."

You watch the rain and predictions, pausing when you notice Leon's car isn't running as smoothly.

"Pit, pit. Box, Leon."

"What's my gain on Krauser?"

"Seven seconds."

"Tell pit crew not to mess this up."

"Copy."

Leon speeds in to the pit, changing in two seconds, speeding back out in order to gain back on Krauser.

"Lap."

"Twelve." You call. "Ada five seconds, Krauser five."

"DRS zone?"

"Overtake if possible."

"Taking the risk." Leon clicks open his DRS, speed increase wonderful for his car as he flies past Ada, slowing to block her immediately.

"Block or go?"

"Block for now. Go will be called soon."

"Roger that."

You know Wesker is seething in his seat right now. Ada may not be affected, but you're sure Leon playing rough is a pain in the ass for Wesker. So, you don't think it's out of the question for him to be ordering Ada to try new things. Luckily for you, you had watched enough of Wesker's races to understand what he like doing. Surprise or not, eventually you run out of cards to play. You happen to know the majority of his cards, so you have Leon block Ada every chance he gets, forcing her into a corner and forcing her to slow for her own safety. Ada values her life. Leon? Not as much.

"Leon, final lap. Push. Go rogue. Helena third."

"Music to my ears." He sings, pushing for a further gap as he gleams, turns growing ragged and tires shredding, sparks flying from the back of his car as you wince. The car seems to be fine, and as soon as he's past that checkered flag, your screen is ditched for a victory-yelling session with Mike and the rest of the team. It worked. Leon just had to push past Ada and force her to care for her own safety. It was like playing the perfect cards into your hands. It was beautiful.

"We did it!" Leon yells, and you laugh into the mic.

"Get to that parking spot, Leon. We'll meet you there."

"You're paying for dinner."

"Say less."

You opt for the back half of the team, Leon yelling and grabbing Mike as he yells, cheering. Leon lets out a borderline pornographic gasp as he pops his helmet off, shake of his head from the sweat and cry on his lips as he cheers. You wonder if that feeling ever gets old. All of the excitement left you as soon as you had run up, and as Leon cheers, you find it's amusing. You won't get tired of seeing Leon and Helena place on the podium, that's for sure. You wonder what Leon's going to ask for dinner.

You want barbecue. God, Texas barbecue sounds so good right now. Leon's trainer's going to say no but oh, god. You want a rack of baby back ribs.

"What's for dinner?" Leon raises a brow as you're pushed to the front, and you tap your chin.

"I could go for some ribs."

"God, my dietician's going to kill me— say less."

You wink at him, patting his shoulder and giving him a little push as he rushes over to the podium. Helena follows after as you yell her name, cheering. You're sure the team will be able to win Constructor's Championship as long as Luis doesn't suddenly decide to get astronomically better, but you're sure Leon's practically salivating at the idea of being world champion driver. Ada's held that title for longer than ever, but Leon's got an interesting gain in terms of points this year. He'd need... to place first a least a couple more times.

"So? How'd I do?"

"Fishing for compliments, aren't ya?" You raise a brow.

"Please?"

"Oh, so you know how to beg? I'm already paying. What else do you want me to tell you? You did great? Good job not getting yourself killed? Congrats on placing first, again?"

"It's like you don't love me." He sighs.

"Leon, we're coworkers."

"That go on dinner dates?"

"Are these considered dates?" You gasp. "I thought it was just regular company dinners."

"We already do that with the team monday nights."

You shrug. "I didn't realize I was so special to you, Leon." You feign. "You love me?"

He clicks his tongue. "You wish."

"See?" You laugh, thanking the waiter as he serves you both your dinners. "I love shitty chain dinners."

"Only way to celebrate the American life." He nods at the waiter.

"Well, your fault for being American." You shrug. "That income tax must be beautiful, huh?"

"I only live here because I don't wanna end up living some tiny ass place in Monaco. Why live close to the tracks when you can live in a mansion with my money?"

"Convenience." You bite at the rib in your hand, moan slipping past your lips. "God, I love meat."

Leon cocks up a brow that can only mean trouble, and you gape, horrified.

"NO."

"You could–"

"Leon fucking Kennedy!" You full name him.

"You could have my—"

"I'm leaving and calling the cops on you." You wipe your fingers as Leon yells.

"I didn't mean it." He stifles a laugh, snirking at you.

"I hate you." You roll your eyes, going back to the food. "In front of my salad?"

"Your ribs?"

"My baby?!"

But dinner's fine. It's always more than fine. Leon gives you bedroom eyes enough times for you to just play stupid, and when he sends you back to the hotel, he frowns at you until you roll your eyes and give him a kind pat on his shoulder. You're not feeding the tabloids when Leon's already got plenty of publicity from Ada and his rivalry. Rivalry? Romance? Situation..ship? It's not your problem. You're enjoying what you're getting out of the races. It feeds your ego just as much as it does his when he wins — not that you would tell him.

Besides, the relationship was truly just transactional — If you ignore the fact that Leon's got an ego when it comes to flirting with women. He simultaneously can not handle being flirted back with or getting rejected. His face card is lethal, sure, whatever, but you don't really want to compromise your position as his race engineer with the chances of dating. You're not losing your job over some guy. You're especially not losing it over the very man you're communicating with every single race. You don't plan on that ever happening, thanks.

"Ugh. Heat." You grumble, stepping out of the airport to catch your ride. Another week, another full mess of driving you have to deal with. Mike's strategy is handed to you on Thursday like clockwork, and you read through the file while on the walk with Leon. There isn't much to say. There's never too much to say. Though, Leon tells you a little about what he's planning to do. It's not exactly safe, but as long as he can pull it off, it's fine. You stare at the track and then raise a brow, tilting your head at the turns and then at the map.

"You good?"

"Leon, I'm going to suggest something a little bit on the dirty side of driving."

"Say less."

"Feed on that fear factor. No one's completely rid of it." You hum, smiling. "Side to side, corner to corner."

"Say less." He grins. "Is that how we're going to get there?"

"Krauser has no fear factor. You're just going to have to piss him off enough."

"And Ada?"

"Ada fears nothing." You close your eyes, stopping in your tracks to think. "Just keep playing her."

"What a gamble you make each time."

"If it doesn't work, then we go back to what Mike does. You've won quite a handful of first places over the year anyway. You're only... what? You're practically neck to neck with Ada."

"How many more races?"

"You're at 10 races first place and five races second and then like a handful of thirds. You're at like 329 points. Ada joined back mid-year, and the only other person with enough points to corner you would be Krauser, but he's only around 300? There's five races left, so if you place first another two to three times, there's no way anyone could catch up to you, guaranteed."

"So first is mine?"

"Until you hit that 400 point mark, no it's not." You shake your head. "Don't get cocky."

Qualifying goes incredibly well. Too well. Leon places fifth, and you hold your breath as you check the weather.

"We changed you to wet tires, but also, true blue, 10%, 6 mph west." You read. "Leon, don't get overly excited. You're not first place. The chances you get injured or get retired is higher than usual. The weather doesn't help."

"I'll be fine."

You have a feeling he won't be, but you don't speak up. If you somehow manage to affect Leon's confidence, then you'd be responsible for it. Instead, you opt for watching Leon the whole time, holding your breath when you're not reporting the changes in weather. It's the end of hurricane season, but it doesn't mean the rain can't pick up. The anxiety eats you out, and though you remain calm on the outside, you're ready to retire the car whenever.

"Leon, is it drying?"

"No."

"How's your grip?"

"It's alright."

Leon feels the car is fine. He's raced past from third to second, and as long as he presses past Ada, he can take that title this race. He could also place second once and then top five in another race, but he needs to take first to kill everyone's chances of champion. He'd rather die than lose to Krauser again. So, he swerves, refusing to slow down at a turn, engine sparking as he's sure that he's going to need to pit soon. It's fine. The floor is drying up, and though not completely dry, it's not road that's too hard to drive on.

He'll take first place.

That's how it's supposed to go. That's how—

"I'm losing grip." He curses, staring at the upcoming turn.

"Do you want to pit?" You raise a brow.

"Ye—"

You wince at the way he spins out of control, crashing into the wall. The back panel breaks off and the engine turns red on the performance engineer's screen, and you yell for Leon. The rain helps prevent a fire, but any more with the car and it'll be problematic. You were right. It's a vital race to Leon, but he has plenty of chances as long as Krauser doesn't place podium. Though, that doesn't matter. You value the life of your driver more than a title that he wants to receive. What's the point of holding a title if the person who holds it has died? You can't take any of that with you to the afterlife.

"Leon. Out of the car. We're pulling you out the race." Your heart races, waiting for his response.

"I need this win!"

"You don't. Any two of these five races, you get first place, and you become world champion. Your life matters more. Car is out of commission. Step out of the car. You only need fifty points."

He curses on the line, profanities stringing one after the other as he hops out of the car, walking off back to the garage as he grimaces at you. You offer him an unfortunate smile, and he sighs. He leans against the wall, brows furrowed as you turn around to stare at him.

"I don't like this."

"You got cocky."

"I don't need to hear that right now!" He snaps.

"And when will you be willing to listen? Tomorrow? When you're in a good mood? Leon, you can't go ahead and aim to shred a man to pieces because you need first place at your own expense. Your emotions affect how you drive. You're there to win with a level head. You're trying to stress others out, not yourself." You sigh. "We can go over what went wrong later, but are you hurt? The medics checked you before, I know, but surely the whiplash was quite a bit. Take my seat."

"And watch the rest of the cars?" He scoffs.

"You can cheer for Helena." You pop your headphones off, holding it out to him. "You're a team, after all."

He takes them from your hand, frown on his face as he puts them on, listening in to Hunnigan and Helena's conversation. It's quiet as he expects, a lot less quippy than his conversations with you. He watches the race with the rest of the team, surprised at how well Helena's holding her position. She might even place podium.

You stand behind Leon as Helena speeds around the course, and your lips quirk up as she enters the final lap. The rain has subsided by now, and Hunnigan's calls have left her nice and safe despite her reckless driving, and she's neck to neck with Krauser now.

"I forget how good she is." Leon mumbles.

"You work in a team of mostly women. You should keep that in mind for next time." You press your hands on his shoulders, leaning into the screen as you both hold your breath.

"Helena, push."

You don't get to hear her response to Hunnigan, but her activation of DRS immediately upon entering the zone sends her past Krauser and into second place. You're sure she's thrilled to be placing so high, and you hold your breath as the gap between her and Krauser increases, her racing past the finish line earning a yell from everyone on the team. Leon grabs you, yelling as you cheer. You doubt you've ever felt such excitement over Leon placing, but Helena placing was a milestone for her.

"P2, Helena! You did it! P2!"

You drag Leon as he runs over to meet up with Helena, pushing Hunnigan to the front as you cheer.

"Why aren't you ever this excited when I win?"

"Maybe I'll cheer properly for you when you win world champion. Krauser placed first, which means he always has the chance of beating you." You wave at Helena. "Congrats!!"

"Never thought he'd come back to bite my ass." Leon grumbles. "Great job."

"Thank you." She nods. "You all good?"

"Just a little whipash." Leon sighs. "I'll be all good by next race."

You look away. Not by next race. His next handful of races are NOT going to be a pleasant experience. If he's careful, he might be able to recover by the second race, but if not, then the third or fourth. He only has four races left.

"I didn't place this time." He mumbles, groaning into his hand as you pat his back.

"You can place third four times, and you can place fourth three times and once in third. Leon, you have all the time in the world. You need to heal your whiplash first."

He grimaces.

Leon follows after you, clicking through his phone as he scrolls through twitter. It's a lot about the race results, most of them congratulating Helena, and as he reaches for his own name, you call for him.

"Let's go." You raise a brow. "Your emotions are still a mess. Don't you go reaching for Twitter first thing after a race. You wanna die?"

"They're congratulating Helena."

"Never search your name after a race." You take his phone, earning a yell from Leon as you stick your tongue out.

"What are you? Twelve?"

"I should be asking you that question." You hum. "We're off to our hotel."

"Wait, why are we—"

"Room service and then we can rewatch the race. I know you're itching to tell me what you did wrong."

"I am not." He huffs.

You raise a brow.

"Okay, I am." He rolls his eyes. "You're gonna listen?"

You get back and tell Leon what you want, stepping into the shower to wash off the grime of the day. You ask if Leon wants to grab his stuff and clean himself off, but he shakes his head at you. Until he got what he remembered out of his mind, then he would continue in whatever he was in. Though, he pulls the jacket off and ditches the shoes. You finish washing off to ask Leon if he's ordered, and he nods. He'd pay upfront with his card, which makes you raise a brow and offer to pay instead, but he insists. You don't understand why he'd go so far after literally losing a race.

Leon orders for you. He finds that it's safer for a guy to at least pretend he's staying with a woman than for the woman to be known to be staying alone, and he has you tell him what to order, bringing it to your room. You thank him for ordering, laptop pulled out as Leon points at what felt like it lost control, and you draw on the screen, taking note on what to fix at the next meeting. The car didn't do good in rainy weather, it seemed. At the very least, Vegas wouldn't have all that much rain. Then, back to the other side of the world, where the lack of rain was more than apparent. Leon would be fine in the rest of the races.

"Do you want these changes immediately? The car will be driving dry the next couple of races." You look up at the door when it's knocked on.

You thank the concierge for bringing it in, and Leon pays and tips, nodding as the guy walks off.

"He's gonna tell the media about this later." You go back to the laptop. "So? The changes?"

"Yeah, I figured." Leon sighs. "It's fine. Your laptop was out with all of the data of our old car. Stratcom's just going to say we were discussing details again."

"Or they'll pay him off." You reach for a fry, chewing on it as you hum. "You want the changes now?"

"Can I have one?"

"You paid." You hold the fries up to him.

"Thanks. No, I don't think we need to implement it right away, but for the next year, maybe. It'll be raining a lot in the earlier seasons."

"We can bring it up to the others." You tilt your head at the screen. "I'll save it, then. I think your mic could be clearer too. We can adjust that tomorrow. You should also lay down."

"You think?"

"Leon, that whiplash is going to kill you." You raise a brow. "Also, get eating. It's dinnertime anyway."

"You're awfully bold bringing a man into your hotel room, you know?"

"Thanks, if you wanna sexually assault me or something at least wait another two weeks." You shrug, biting into your food. God, mexican food after a whole day of work hits different. Though, you'd argue that the pasta you had with Leon at his nonna's was better. You don't really care of Leon in that way. You're his race engineer, he's just asking for trouble if he suddenly decides that it'd be smart for him to ask you out in any way. He'll call you sweetheart on a good day, but that does not guarantee that he will every race. You doubt he actually likes you.

Leon, on the other hand, finds it strange that you go to such lengths for him. Well, not that off. You're supposedly known by the other employees as someone who works harder than the rest, so it was unsurprising to them when you had suddenly been promoted to one of the higher-ranked engineers. Though, Leon finds it annoying that he can't seem to get through to you. What does it take for you to give him some attention? Though, not that you seem to think of him as a man anyway. It's unsafe for you to be showering and then letting him just sit in your room. Had he been any more of an asshole, he might've actually done something.

Yet, he watches you anyway. His eyes stay on your body when you tell him that you'll be knocking out for the night, telling him that he's welcome to continue with your laptop as long as he stays in the room. Unbothred. Uncaring. You seem to not take Leon seriously at all. It almost hurts his ego to be treated like this.

You fear nothing.

You can not tell when he gives you darkened eyes, climbing on top of you as you're knocked out, eyes glued to your body. You can not sense whatever danger he might present to you. Are you close to that extent? Truly? Are you two friends enough to the point that he is just allowed to do this? You must not value yourself enough. He's a man too. Do you not care?

He tilts his head at you, watching as you continue to breathe steadily, eyes closed and chest rising and falling.

He has caged you down, yet all you do is sleep.

Leon sighs. "How easy."

He climbs off of you, turning off your laptop and plugging it in for you, stepping over your clothes as he glances at you one last time. He leaves his jacket on the back of the seat, shoes slipped back on as the door clicks behind him. He could ask you in the morning. Maybe he should teach you a lesson while he's at it. You should really be vigilant around him. Had you made the mistake around anyone else, they might've jumped you already.

You wear Leon's jacket to the meeting in the morning.

It's draped over whatever you would normally wear, and Leon does a double take when you actually show up in it.

On second thought, maybe you were asking for him to do something.

You go about the meeting, telling a coworker that you found it in the team lost and found, smile on your lips as you go over what adjustments would be made for the next time. You decide on which tire material to use on the ground, and there isn't much else to go over. The United States tended to have alright weather, though, it would be colder in the morning which was when he would be racing, His uniform was alright to wear, and you raise a brow at Leon to ask if he has any questions.

"Where'd you get my jacket?"

"Alright, no flirting on company time."

You laugh at the superior, humming as the rest of the meeting runs smoothly. You hand the jacket back to Leon eventually, thanking him for it, and Leon watches as half of the room pauses to stare at you both. If you notice, you're ignoring it. Leon takes it from you with a wink, throwing it over his own shoulders, raising a brow when you shrug. He doesn't like the feeling that creeps up his back when he talks to you now. It feels strange. It feels weird.

Images of your restful face haunt him at night.

Even during qualifying, gambling city of the nation, all that keeps him up at night is you.

He settles with flirting with you instead, drinking up every single way you cringe at him, disgust audible when he's talking to you over the mic during fp3, earning raised brows from the team as you resist the need to groan into your hand.

"He's gotten a lot more vocal with you." Mike tunes in.

"I'm going to punt this man into the sky." You turn off your mic to Leon.

"Sweetheart, is the car alright?"

"Nothing from the team." You report. "You should be good to go. Keep an eye out on the weather tomorrow."

"Will you nurse me back if I get sick?"

"No, I'll just pull you from the team." You grimace, disgust written all over your face as the engineers next to you laugh — Leon parking into the garage as he pulls off the helmet, raising a brow at you. "Stop fishing for compliments, Kennedy."

He pushes himself out of the car, huffing.

"Lunch?"

"I want Chipotle."

"God, I love Chipotle," Leon mumbles, handing you his phone.

You punch in your order, telling him to just text you after, heading off to the meeting before qualifying. You're not excited. You're never excited. You sit in the room and talk to everyone, and once you leave the room, the stress will be significantly less. You'll talk to everyone and figure out the general plan, tell them what you plan on having Leon do alongside Mike and get approval. Once it's approved, you tell them that it's subject to change in order to adapt to the plan, and Mike hands you another heavy file of information about Ada's recent races.

"We're just going to ignore Krauser?"

"Leon's raced against that man plenty." Mike sighs, opening the door. "Oh, speak of the devil."

"Chipotle's here." He smiles, holding up your order as your eye twitches. In front of management is insane.

"You just really wanted to show management how much I've been abusing you, huh?" You raise a brow. "Come on. Let's find an area to cool down before quali."

"Don't need to tell me twice." He leads you around, your bowl steaming hot on top of the folder from Mike. You don't want to hear what the higher-ups have to say. If you do not see, then you do not know. Well, not that it matters. Leon has a strange reputation, and it's as though he has a dating history since starting F1. It's like they wiped him clean to start over. Oh, well, save for whatever he and Ada has going on.

"Hey." Leon grins.

Ada Wong sits on the couch across from you, and your jaw drops

"Oh my god." You fumble with your lunch, jaw-dropping. "THE Ada Wong?"

"Oh! Leon's wildcard!" She hums. "Come on! Let's eat."

You stare at Leon, and he shrugs.

"She wanted to join."

"Huge fan, wow." You mumble, putting the folder down as you open your lunch. "What brings you here? Or are you two just having lunch? Am I intruding?"

Ada laughs. "Don't worry about it. I bumped into him before he got to order. He owes me one anyway."

You give Leon a look that can only mean something along the lines of "did I walk in on you both" to which Leon responds with a shake of his head. You go back to your food, humming as you watch the television for time. Ada races before Leon this time, and honestly, you're kind of too thrilled to be having Chipotle to care. American food things. You can take the man out of the eagle screech but not the eagle screech out the man... or however it goes. What's a little... American spirit in the United States? You like the calm life you get to enjoy during the breaks where all you do is go on zoom meetings with everyone and talk about the car. What can you say? Laziness isn't a passion, it's a lifestyle. Though, you'd argue that being an engineer in F1 is a complete contradiction to the statement.

You finish as Ada looks at you, lips quirked upward amusingly as you raise a brow.

"You're doing great."

"God, I must be hallucinating." You grab Leon's thigh, fanning your face.

"You're my engineer and you're crying over a compliment from her?"

"She's my number one. My ult. My oshi, if you will. Dare I say it, my number one."

Leon raises a brow at all of those words, but Ada laughs, hand held over her mouth as she laughs into her palm, corners of her eyes crinkling from your boldness. She thanks you with a nod and a smile, telling you that she'll dedicate her win tomorrow to you.

"Oh, well, I never promised that win in your hands." You wink, lips quirked up as Ada blinks at your boldness.

"You think you can win again?"

"You called me a wildcard, Miss Ada." You smile. "You struggle with them yourself. We all do."

"Well, you're right on that." She smiles. "But you won't be able to predict me either, hm?"

"Hard to say." You wink. "A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one. Though, what use are cards in a game of firearms?" You grin. "Well, not that it matters. You can't win championship even if you win the next four. You know? You joined a little late."

"I know. But I can certainly push Krauser to the top. Anything to stop Stratcom from winning both titles."

"Well, apologies, but bringing a knife to a gunfight is a little outdated." You grin. 

Ada laughs, pushing the door open. "See you both at quali."

"If I play dangerous, will you let me?" Leon looks up at you from the couch through his lashes.

"As long as you don't die or get retired, do as you wish?"

"Even if we get yelled at?"

"What's Stratcom without a little violence?"

Leon places third in q3.

It's not nearly as fast as he would've liked it to be, but it's fast enough, and when he's back after q3, he's tilting his head at you with those big-ass puppy eyes, vying for attention. You know he wants a compliment, but you raise a brow at him as he huffs. He knows you won't give him one unless he does so well that it's beyond what you expect from him.

"I'm not complimenting you, Kennedy."

"Dammit." He huffs. "If I win tomorrow, will you?"

"No." You hum. "Bring back that championship and then we can talk."

Leon sighs. "Can I have a kiss if I do?"

You raise a brow. "I thought it was I receive something?"

"A kiss." He shrugs.

"You wish." You roll your eyes. "I'll think about it if you win driver’s cup, and our team wins the constructor's championship."

"Oh, say less." He grins.

You wish you could say you despise Leon. You don't — truly. You find it entertaining to push his buttons the same way he pushes yours. You find it amusing when he tilts his head and begs for your attention. Twisted? Maybe. Entertaining? Very. Leon's not one to beg for attention. He's always the center of attention, so for him to want your attention gives you quite a glimpse into what kind of a person he is. Maybe you just bruise his ego. Though, not that you can feed it. If you feed it anymore, his head's gonna get so big that he floats away. It makes you laugh — the idea of Leon floating away with a big-ass head.

You set up for the screen after the meeting in the morning. Leon's allowed to go insane, and Mike has a plan in case Leon wants to try something new. Though, you're sure that won't be the case. You want Leon to try chasing the ever-living fuck out of someone. You want Leon to go insane, or whatever he liked calling it. Ada called you a wildcard, but truly, you could not come up with it on your own. Leon's the one who just makes stuff up on the fly.

Though, you want to have Leon pull off better skill.

So, when the first ten laps go by and Leon hasn't moved up, you huff.

"Cut through Krauser to break into second."

"Oh? Say less."

"Don't do anything too reck—"

You watch as Leon slides right through Krauser and the wall in one of the sharpest turns on the track, wincing as Leon doesn't bother braking, forcing Krauser behind him as he laughs into the mic. You sigh considering it was your fault, but you're glad he's at least broken through. Krauser may try and chase Leon down in the corners, but as long as he gets enough gain, it should be... feasible. Though, when the performance engineer mics in, you groan.

"Leon. Pit. Box, box. Puncture in back right tire."

"Dammit." He huffs. "Time loss estimate?"

"Five seconds behind Helena."

Leon pits and gets his tire changed, speeding off back into the track in eighth, huffing and pouting as he has to overtake so many people again.

"Overtake opening."

"Copy." Leon slides past two cars and gains on the inside. "Tell Helena to guard."

"Roger."

Leon flies past Helena, telling you to thank Hunnigan, and he tails behind Krauser again. He huffs, knowing that Krauser would probably just force him into the wall this time rather than brake, but you have other plans.

"Do the same thing."

"He's not going to brake."

"He will." You pause. "Think about it."

"He's got a wife and kids to go home to." Leon scoffs. "You're insane."

"Hey, you said it." You watch as he forces past Krauser just barely again, sparks flying from the back of his car as he pushes past, gaining distance and blocking him from any overtakes, laugh registering through his mic as you raise a brow.

"Don't get cocky now, Kennedy."

"Wouldn't dream of it with you on the line, sweetheart."

Halfway in, Leon finally gains on Ada, tailing right behind her as she closes in to stop him from passing, and Leon huffs. You don't speak to him, and none of the engineers call for a pit. You leave him alone to make the call. Ada can predict what both you and Mike call, but you're sure she isn't capable of predicting just what kind of a bullshit move Leon would be able to pull.

"Open DRS."

"Don't need to tell me twice."

Leon's a nightmare. You think Leon's a nightmare. He forces past her where he should have braked, forcing her into the same position as Krauser, wheels touching hers as you hold your breath for a pit, surprised when there's a lack of one.

"Are you open to pitting another time?"

"No." Leon hisses, blocking Ada on a corner, gaining the inside.

"Then take care of your tires."

"Copy."

You find that Leon doesn't really take any racer seriously outside of Ada. Maybe his thought process actually spins when he's defending first, his radio going quiet from all the banter that you had prior to this. He'll have his fill of it later when you have to pay for dinner, but it's not right now. Leon's too straightforward at this point of the race to even think what he's saying to you. Blessing or curse? Curse for you, blessing for his media team.

"Good gain. Ada two seconds behind."

"Praise me."

You laugh, humming as Leon repeats his request.

"Praise me."

"You're doing great, Leon. Push for five seconds." You hum. "I'll praise you more if you win."

"Say less."

You watch as he pushes even harder, muting yourself as you laugh at the way he goes quiet for the next five laps.

"Ten til completion."

"Roger that. Helena?"

"P3."

"Can she chase Ada for me?"

"Will request."

You mic over to Hunnigan to request Helena's aid in keeping Ada at bay, and she tells you she'll try. It's no guarantee considering how skilled Ada is, but it's worth the shot, definitely. Lots of factors play into how a race goes, but Ada hasn't pitted even once, and you assume it's because she wants to hold out against Leon for as long as possible. Though, she's already behind him. Maybe she's forcing him to wear his tires down.

"Leon, Ada upcoming pit. Push."

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

"You can do better."

"We better be chowing down on cheesecake factory after this."

"You want cheesecake factory?"

"Last of chain foods before two races in the two Eurasia." Leon huffs. "You're paying if I place first."

"What happened to chivalry?"

"Dead if I win this race."

"You know what? I hope you place second just so I don't need to pay—"

"Just tell me to kill myself at this point."

"Ada return. Gain 6.7 seconds. Final three laps." You report.

"Copy. Can I do doughnuts if I win?"

"Not for another two races." You click your tongue. "I'll take us for milkshakes tomorrow after the meeting if you place first."

"The good place?"

"Where else?"

"I don't know." Leon goes quiet, presumably to focus on the turns. "Lap count?"

"Last one." You hum. "Congrats on fastest lap."

"Maybe you're my lucky charm. You should kiss me next time to see if it works better."

"I'm going to drop kick you across the track if you say that to me one more time." You grimace.

"Come on. You gotta congratulate me if I win first." Leon laughs, speeding down the straight as the checkered flag is waved for him.

"P1. Congrats." You hum. "Good job."

"Call me good boy."

"Over the work radio? I think not." You laugh, disconnecting as you grab the other engineers to cheer.

When everyone rushes to the front, you stay in the back, winking at Leon as his eyes meet yours. He cocks up an eyebrow and you sigh, shaking your head as your mouth opens.

'Good boy'

If Leon had a tail, it'd be wagging by now from the look on his face.

He sticks his tongue out at you in response, biting it to show his canines as he goes bouncing off in the back. It makes you shake your head, but he rushes over to Ada for a hug, Helena giving him a fistbump as Leon gives her thanks. It's nice to be cherished. Though, you're surprised when Chris gives Leon a handshake. Huh. You didn't realize he was chill like that— or however the saying goes. You find it amusing. Leon locks eyes with you after talking to Chris, running through the cars to point at you. Oh, maybe it's because they're both from Raccoon.

You tilt your head as you're pushed to the front, and Leon tilts his head at you. You feel like it should be Leon Sly Kennedy and not Scott. What an awful person he is.

"Alright, alright," You reach up for his hair, fighting back the grimace that comes with all of the sweat, humming. "Good boy."

"That's what I like to hear." He grins, leaning into your palm.

"What are you? A dog?" You pull your hand from his hair, Leon turning to head over to the podium.

"Your dog, maybe?"

Aaaand he's off with a wink.

You shudder at the thought, grimacing as Leon sings his way to the podium. He accepts the trophy with a thank you and then pops the champagne, and you duck when he aims for you, causing it to land square in Mike's face. You manage a "sorry" before Mike wipes it off his face, gawking at Leon as he purses his lips.

"Wasn't aiming for you! Sorry, Mike." He smiles.

"I want dinner too!"

"We can take the team."

"Isn't he paying?"

"I am. I can decide that."

"Nah, rather not have to third and fourth wheel." The performance engineer rolls his eyes.

"You're not gonna be my saving grace?"

"He'd kill us both."

You groan, getting up when you realize Leon's finished spraying his bottle. He pours a glass for himself, downing it as you tilt your head and watch him. He pours another glass, hopping down the podium as he holds it out for you.

"Oh? For me?"

"If not you then who?"

"The rest of your team?" You raise a brow, pressing it to your lips as you drink.

Leon bubbles over with excitement under his skin at the indirect kiss. He has one last swig left in the bottle.

That way, he can say he kissed you — even if it was indirectly.

He takes the glass from you as he takes it pouring the last of the bottle into the glass as he licks at the place where your lip balm was. Maintaining eye contact with you the whole time, he watches for even a glimpse of embarrassment on your face.

You raise a brow, but the flush on your skin is his confirmation.

Then, he presses his lips to exactly where yours were, throwing his head back to down the last of it. The alcohol slides down the corners of his mouth and his throat as his adam's apple bobs, liquid sliding down. Once he's sure the glass is empty, only then does he relax himself and sigh, smirking at you as you raise a brow. Sexual awakening? Not exactly. Something that you'd get embarrassed over watching on television? Yeah.

It makes you uncomfortably warm at the neck, pulling at your collar as Leon gives you bedroom eyes, and that elicits a look of concern and grimace from you.

Old habits die hard.

You wave goodbye to him as he heads off to the interview and debrief, laugh on your lips as you retire with everyone else.

Helena makes one last stop before going to her own interview, grabbing your shoulder with a hand as you raise a brow.

"Twenty eight likes you. A lot."

"Too bad I can't date him."

She raises a brow in disbelief and shrugs.

"Good luck at the interview."

"Thanks. Have fun at dinner later."

"Does he debrief with you?"

"Maybe? Maybe not." She winks. "Catch you next race!"

You wave, raising a brow and jumping in your skin as Mike grabs your shoulder.

"He's down so bad."

"Thanks. I prefer to ignore it."

His laugh is more than enough to make you laugh too.

You get Cheesecake Factory with Leon. It's a little unceremonious,  but as the two of absolutely go to town on your own meals, it does not matter. Whatever banter and flirting was going on on the track is ignored. This is not your problem. Your problem at the moment is to down an unreal amount of calories in the span of ten minutes, all presented to you on a platter from Cheesecake Factory. That's what you give a fuck about at the moment.

You wonder if Leon's gained any weight at all after eating... barely eating his diet. You're sure his dietician would grill the two of you to shreds for this, but you don't care. You're free. Leon's problem is his problem. You don't care if this one meal is singlehandedly restoring your weight loss over the week from exhaustion. This is your victory meal as much as it is Leon's.

"If I win next time will you go out with me?"

You blink at Leon, wiping your mouth.

"I did not just hear that come out of your mouth."

"You did."

"You woke up and decided to be twenty times more insufferable, huh?" You raise a brow. "No. I'm not complying. It's supposed to be me getting a reward."

"Is dating me not enough of a reward?"

"Not even close." You wipe at your mouth. "Isn't your dietician going to kill you for this meal?"

"I just have to burn it off." He shrugs. "Shall we take a stroll by the vegas strip?"

"Well, if you insist." You reach for your card, Leon's hand placed over yours as he takes his own out. "Leon. You placed first."

"I insist." He hums. "Now you owe me."

"Better not be more than a meal." You smile. "Milkshakes? No. Your caloric—"

"Nuh-uh. All those calories from the alcohol at the afterparty is going to turn into my milkshake."

"You don't even drink—" You pause. "I lied. I've seen that shots shots shots video circulating around of you."

"Yeah." He grins. "Yet, here I am. I'm here having dinner with you instead."

"You act as though you didn't have a choice."

"You're the one acting that way! Come on, let's go find the milkshake place."

"Don't you ever worry about paparazzi?"

"Fans are used to it by now. Haven't you seen them on Twitter betting on where we'll be eating next?" He offers you his hand, to which you raise a brow.

"Take my hand."

"Nuh uh."

"Fuck you mean nuh uh???"

You roll your eyes, getting up on your own as Leon pouts at you.

"Please?"

"I'll pay for milkshakes. Stop pouting."

"I'm gonna pout the whole way until you take my hand."

You raise a brow, following after him as he pouts at you the whole way, only returning to normal when some fans stop to ask for his signature. He makes light chat with them and you raise a brow, surprised when they hop over to your next, pen held out to you as you blink.

"You sure?"

"Yes. He's not a Stratcom racer without you." She tilts her head. "You're also like. Iconic."

You laugh, popping the cap of the pen as you ask her where you should sign, the other girl butting in to tell you to sign by the heart. You raise a brow but comply, the two girls squealing as you cap the pen again. They thank you, gushing as they as for a photo with you. You're surprised you've gained such a name just by being Leon's race engineer alone. You don't... dislike it.

"Are you two dating?!"

"No."

"Wish we were." Leon huffs.

"He's joking."

"I'm not."

"He is." You insist.

"You two have very fun conversations on the radio." One of the girls smile. "I like hearing you put him in his place."

You laugh, hunched over as Leon gawks, offended.

"I thought you were my fans?"

"Yeah, but I like your race engineer better." She whistles, looking to the side. "She's... hotter."

You laugh even harder, crouching on the ground as Leon holds a hand to his heart dramatically.

"Fake."

You get back up, patting Leon's back as you shake your head.

"Sorry to steal your spotlight, Kennedy." You hum. "Thank you, though."

"Honored! Are you both grabbing food?"

"Post-victory dinner just finished."

"And then?"

"We're getting a sweet treat." You grin.

"Sharing a milkshake?"

"No, I don't—"

"Good idea." Leon butts in, grabbing your wrist as he smiles. "We'll get going, though. Glad you enjoyed the race."

"Have fun!"

You stumble after Leon with a brow raised, unsurprised when he wraps his hand around yours, giving you a victorious grin as you scoff.

"This was your plan?"

"You're not going to defeat me in terms of grip strength."

You resist the urge to make a joke about grip, shaking the whole time your lips are pursed, coming off a lot as a spongebob meme, breaking into a fit of laughter eventually when you fail to resist.

"What?"

"You know what could defeat you in terms of grip strength?"

"Mind showing me? I'm a hands-on learner."

"This. This." You'd usually be too concerned to give a response, but the need to make the joke is too strong. You cut yourself with your own laughter, though, following after Leon as he shakes his head.

He rolls his eyes. "In public is insane."

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO LITERALLY JUST SAID—"

"We're here." He looks up at the place, pushing the doors open as you raise a brow in suspicion.

"Wow, you're like a local." You laugh, following after him as he orders, holding your phone to the side as you fight him to pay for the milkshakes, his strength too much for you as you eventually give up and let him pay for your treat. You groan the whole time, his laugh only even more spiteful as you take your milkshake with a pout on your kips, biting on the straw as he tilts his head at you.

"Come on."

You huff. "I was supposed to pay."

"You can pay when you earn as much as I do."

"You know what? I should be relishing in the fact that I haven't spent a dime so far." You roll your eyes. "Thank you for sparing my bank account."

"Of course."

"When do you fly?"

"Wednesday."

"Are you walking?" You raise a brow, tongue red from the milkshake.

"I'll see you there." He hums, sticking his tongue out. "We should make a pink milkshake."

You grimace, smacking him on the arm as he pouts.

"Meanie."

"whore."

You fly out Tuesday after the debrief with Leon, flight awful for you despite upgrading to business class, exhaustion from weeks of flying back and forth finally building up on your body. You're close. You have, what? two more weeks? The second to last race was this week, and you could rest easy if Leon could just get the title of champion after placing first. Though, arguably as long as he gets those 26 points before the end of the season, he could rest safe. Krauser still had the chance of winning if he placed first in literally any of these competitions. It wasn't a good thing on Leon's end, but you were just as stressed as he was.

You're going to explode.

Yet, you walk the lap around the track, sighing as Leon catches the look on your face.

"Sad?"

"God, I hope nothing goes wrong with your car."

"Why? You think it'll happen?"

"Aim to get fourth."

"We're not aiming for podium?"

"That bad feeling in my stomach says to not risk anything today. We're following Mike."

Leon frowns at you, clicking his tongue. "Why?"

"The car doesn't feel safe."

"You're insane."

"I'm not. Leon."

"And if I don't listen?"

"Then crash."

Leon places first in q3, and you hold your breath as he takes a gain on the rest of the cars in first place, defending for life against Ada. You watch the whole time as he stays in first place, only contacting him when he needs to pit for a change of tires, holding your breath as neither of you seem to speak over the radio. You read wind speed and what else he can do, but for the most part he barely responds. You can only hope he's not going through some sort of late teenage rebellion stage of his life. You watch and convey words from the rest of the engineers, trusting that Leon will at least know how to handle certain situations. You might be babying him quite hard, but it's honestly—

"Puncture in tyre. Pit. Pit. Box, box." You read.

"Which tire."

"Front right."

"Copy."

You watch as the tire explodes on him and his car, causing it to spin as Leon crashes into the wall. It causes you to wince, checking to see if they deploy a safety car or pull a red. Though, it makes you tired. Leon just didn't like listening. He picked up the puncture because he had told you he thought he could push further with the tyres. You grimace at the screen and mentally prepare yourself for Leon's influx of emotions.

The groan that Leon lets out causes you to pull the headphones out from sheer vibration.

"Get over here in the garage."

"This is your fault."

"This is NOT my fault. I told you to be careful this race." You huff. "Come on."

"I'm not watching Helena race."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, white boy."

Leon groans a second time at the nickname.

He stands behind you with a frown on his face the whole time as you watch the race. Helena's doing okay. You don't think she's too familiar with the track, and the amount of turns on the track are a little tricky to handle. She slows and gets overtaken often at the tracks. You can't say much considering that lots of people struggle with the track, but you find it impressive that she's managed to guard her position as fifth, steady with her turns as she grows used to the track by the middle. You wonder if she'll place podium.

Well, not that you'd be disappointed. You like placing podium, but the team's been on there an unreal amount since Leon and Helena joined. Lowering their expectation every now and then couldn't hurt. Well, at least not like it hurts veterans to get their asses kicked and realize their driving is getting worse. You wonder if that's why Leon's so bitter. At the very least, he placed 10th considering how many other cars just casually got pulled off. He did alright. All that needs to happen is Krauser not winning first — which sounds a little insane considering that he's first at the moment.

Leon took one first place, but somehow that title wasn't awarded to him. Well, it seemed that you'd be working your ass off for another week. God forbid you have a day off before the end of the season. You truly can not win. You watch as Helena tries to climb once as she has enough space, but it still isn't enough. You're not even disappointed anymore. You honestly just want to go home. You're so tired, it's unreal. The flight did not give you enough rest time, and so many things have been keeping you awake. So many? Sorry.

Images of Leon squeezing your hand while you walked down the Vegas strip have been haunting you at night.

You are not immune to the white boy agenda.

So, you close your eyes as you decide to doze off in the garage.

You're off duty now. You're free.

Leon catches your head before you fall over completely, gloved hand gentle on your skin as you lean on him, eyes closed and breathing stable as you catch a break. He feels bad for blaming you. You truly only mean the best for him, but it wasn't as if you were doing it right. Leon huffs as he holds your head in place, watching as Helena climbs to fourth in the last twenty laps. He raises a brow, impressed at her skill, and then he holds his breath as she touches wheels with Krauser. He knows how bad it is. He wonders if you ever get this anxious and invested in a race. Maybe that was why you never reacted when he won first place. You were still adjusting... or whatnot.

You seem awfully comfortable for someone who's falling asleep while literally sitting up.

The end of the race comes too fast, and Helena places fourth. Krauser places first again, and Leon clicks his tongue. It annoys him. He needs to place first next race. Instead of walking out with everyone to watch, Leon takes the seat next to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder for longer, glaring at Hunnigan when she gives the two of you a raised brow. He's not dealing with that. He might as well cherish the fact that you aren't biting back at him for once. Well, not that he's undeserving of all the shit you throw at him for being on the track.

You wake at one point, Leon knocked out with his head on top of yours. You blink at the pit crew cleaning up, groaning as every muscle in your body is begging for you to free it from whatever position you're currently in. You hold Leon's head in place, standing up to stretch, groaning as you do. You hear your back crack.

Leon stirs, opening his eyes and grumbling.

"I feel like shit."

"That makes two of us." You groan, stretching your arms above your head as you sigh. "I need to go back to the hotel room."

"No strategy debrief?"

"I'm too tired for that. Maybe over dessert?"

"Let's do room service again." Leon sighs. "My room this time."

You raise a brow. "Can I shower first?"

"Shower at mine."

"Okay. Damn. Whore."

"Bring your clothes. I'm not— You know what? If you're up for it."

"NO."

You end up cleaning yourself up first, towel around your neck as you step out and get changed into pajamas, knocking on Leon's room unceremoniously with your laptop and everything you might need to debrief. You wonder what it's like to be in a suite in a hotel, but you don't care. Quite frankly, you're not really in the mood to be debriefing, but anything to have your wallet not break over a room service meal. You don't even care if it's a salad at this point. Leon seems to know your general taste by now. Insane on his end, but who are you to complain?

"Come on."

"It was just a tire puncture this time."

"Yes, but something's gone wrong with my car twice in the last 3 races." He reasons. "Something needs to be changed."

"Do you want the edits you requested last time immediately?"

"That would be nice." He hums. "Also, new things to fix."

You yawn, watching as Leon draws arrows at what was flashing wrong, and you realize pretty quickly that the performance engineer was not doing what he was supposed to and keeping an eye out on everything. It makes you almost annoyed, but you don't tell Leon, opting to text the head engineer instead. You don't care if you have to find someone new. You need someone to actually watch what the hell was going on the track. Waiting until things were in the red to fix it wasn't smart. Leon's car had to be fixed as soon as anything on the car hit yellow. It was incredible how bad Leon was at car management.

"We're going to change performance engineers for your next race." You glance at the response from the head engineer.

"Really?"

"The puncture had been there for a while. It's not just an average blunder to not notice that there's something in the tire."

"Ah, right. You were that once."

"Yeah." You stab into a piece of the steak already cut, chewing as you raise a brow. "It might be someone inexperienced, but as long as they can consistently report what the numbers are, I'll live. Correction. You'll live."

"And if I crash my car?"

"Then Helena's going to need to force Krauser back until he can't score any more points than you. What are you? 379 right now?"

"379."

"Krauser's at 362. He can't place any higher than second. He's been doing well lately, so it's not out of the question for him to place podium. He can't place podium. Okay? You have to place higher than him."

"If he wins first... that just means I have to score over 390."

"Yes."

"So not first?"

"Just aim for first. Don't you want to go out with a bang?" You raise a brow.

"If I do, can I kiss you?"

"You have to place first."

"I'm taking that as a yes, then."

"I'm not saying no."

Leon flies in with you on Wednesday, involved the whole time during the debrief to discuss what can be changed and improved, deciding which tires to start off with on Thursday, and personally running around in the car during the free practices. The car's adjustments are made on the spot, and Leon grows comfortable with the car and the steering wheel before the race, slow laps around the field to get a feel, faster laps around the circuit to prepare for qualifying. He seldom talks to you, only on the radio when he drives, asking questions on how the car was doing.

He's a lot more vocal to check for the car now that it's someone completely new on the team.

You report everything he asks when he practices, checking that he's comfortable with where he's at, comfortable with knowing what his car is like. You find that his comfort probably matters a lot more than anything else at the moment. All you need to guarantee is that he gets the nine points. Though, you're aiming for him to get first place for once. You'll be cheering this race if he places first in more ways than one.

Leon races through qualifying with a passion you didn't know he could actually show, and you start to wonder if he's really just... locked in.

He places second for q3, and you take a look at the circuit, debriefing with him when he's back, nodding at him in approval when he beams at you. You might as well let yourself start getting more honest.

You think you like Leon. Well, not that you can tell. You think you like him, though. Maybe not the same way he does you, but you definitely like him.

"Still with me for that win, right?"

"Yeah, but you better win." You hum.

"You'll help me?"

"What can I do but?"

Leon rests in position, eyes on the road as the light flashes from red to green, gas pressed and speed active as he races down the start, overtaking Ada with a push, forcing a turn on the inside as he starts playing defense. The race to first was always easier than the keeping of first. You aren't sure if Leon will keep it steady throughout the entire time, but his plan in the hotel had been simple. He didn't need to place first, he just needed to chase both Ada and Krauser down until either of them wore their tires to shreds. It was a pretty simple plan on his end considering he was good at ruining both his car and others'.

"Lap?"

"35 left." You read. "How's the car? Performance engineer reports nothing sensors showing."

"It's alright." He turns, checking his rearview mirrors as he clicks his tongue. "Krauser chasing."

"Let him pass."

"What?"

"Tear that car to shreds."

"That's illegal."

"Not if he does it himself."

Leon clicks his tongue, scoffing.

"Blaming you if I get flagged."

"Blame me all you want."

Leon falls back and stages an accidental overpass, eyes focusing on the way Krauser passes him with Ada on his tail, Leon's lips curling upwards. Ada will tear Krauser to shreds for him. Ada may not play it as risky as he does, but he doesn't need Ada to be behind him, he needs Krauser torn to shreds. It had been that exact reason that he had played the cards of the public. The championship can only really be either of them. Ada's break had been the perfect opportunity for him, and he watches as Ada chases Krauser down.

You knew, maybe. You probably knew as soon as you realized he had lunch with Ada.

"Ada shredding Krauser. Touched wheels."

"Laps left?"

"30."

"She'll tear him down enough for me to overtake."

"You sure?"

"She promised." Leon hums, turning off his radio.

Ada does as promised, forcing Krauser to expend his tires and lose grip, forced into another pit stop as Leon takes the chance to chase after Ada. He understands she won't let him pass, but all that mattered was Krauser placing behind him. He needed to end up on that podium, and his pride wouldn't allow him anything other than the position of first. He chases after Ada on the corners as Krauser returns, pushing as he huffs when she cuts him off.

"How are the tires?"

"Losing grip."

"Pit now?" You pause. "Twenty seconds between you and Helena."

"Confirm."

"Confirmed pit. Box, box. We're ready when you are."

Leon glances to the side, sharp turn into the pit, wheels changed to soft ones as he races back out.

"Gap."

"Two seconds behind Helena. Five seconds in front of Chris."

"Can you have her let me pass?"

"Will ask. Go ahead and force past her anyway."

"Copy."

Leon speeds past Helena, making a mental note to thank her later, chasing after Krauser as he follows closely behind Ada, leaving enough space for Krauser and his brashness.

"Can I make him crash?"

"FIA can hear you."

"I'm not actually gonna do it."

"Twenty laps left."

"Cutting it is."

Leon wonders if Krauser really wants to deal with the same overtake three times, but he doesn't really care. If he loses, then so be it. He values his life a little less than Krauser. So, it's unsurprising when he goes for violent overtakes, forcing himself on the inside and forcing Krauser to brake, laugh on his lips as he zips past him. You keep an eye on everything else on the track, telling Leon to push.

"Fifteen laps. Get a grip, Leon." Your lips quirk up. "Gotta push."

"Thanks, tire grip is fine." He barks out a laugh, trying to cut through Ada on another turn as she stops him. "See you in ten laps."

"Catch you then."

Leon maneuvers around Ada's car in a series of close calls, grumbling to himself as he decides that he's just not going to brake the next time she pushes him into the wall. Front wing be dammed, he was so close to the finish line it didn't matter as much anymore. Yes, balance would be toppled, but it didn't matter if he could get both off at the same time. Ada has a survival instinct, and Leon would just force himself to overwrite that survival instinct. It won't matter to him as much if he loses something on the car.

"I'm gonna do a stupid."

"Oh, god."

Leon forces himself past Ada on a corner, refusing to brake and touching wheels with Ada, forcing her to the side as he speeds up, finally overtaking her and taking first. He doesn't call in in his final laps, far too invested in keeping first, stopping Ada from getting too close, grumbling though the circuit.

"Lap?"

"Final. Krauser in third. Keep your pace, Leon. You're almost there."

"God, I can't wait for my stupid prize."

Leon's final lap has minimal resistance, Ada seemingly falling a little more behind to keep Krauser out of the way, Leon flying past the checkered flag as he yells, hand thrown up as he cheers.

"DOUGHNUTS."

"Yes, Leon. We discussed this—"

You watch as Leon spins around the track, tearing the car to shreds in the process, wasting no material as he yells out, cheering and spinning on the track to do doughnuts.

"Good job, Leon."

"Now get over here so I can get my reward."

You ditch the headphones, following him as he goes back on the track to drive to his position, the rest of the team racing over to grab him, and Leon throws off his helmet, shoving it into someone's arms as he reaches for you, hands flying to the sides of your face as you yell, his lips pressed to yours as he melts into you, hand moving to the back of your head to deepen the kiss, dipping you as much as he can without your knees giving out on you. He steals every breath you can take, gloves a little nasty on your face as you throw your arms around his neck. Someone next to you yells and you think people pull out their phones, but you couldn't care less.

You've grown far too used to Leon's way of affection anyway.

You pull away first, wiping your lips from the sweat on his face, and he stares at you, beaming as you brace yourself for the million-dollar question.

"Be my girlfriend."

"Not with that attitude." You raise a brow. "Nuh uh."

Leon blinks at you, confusion all over his face as you raise a brow.

"What."

"Not with that attitude."

"Please? Go out with me?"

You roll your eyes. "What happened to chivalry?"

"Sorry, excuse me for a second." Leon lifts you over the fencing, making you yell as he carries you over to the stage.

"WHAT THE FUCK."

Leon takes his trophy as you watch from below the stage, handed a bottle of rose water as you shake it to pop it at him. The team won the constructors championship, so you think you get a little treat. You spray it in Leon's face as he sprays his at you, yelling as you close your eyes, pouring out the last bit to clink glasses with Leon. You don't care. You don't care anymore. The team just won world championship, you think there are other things that you care about right now.

Leon loops his arm around yours before you can drink, clinking glasses with you one last time before pressing his drink to his lips. You comply, lips pressed to the glass as you down the last bit, swallowing and pausing to think. This feels an awful lot like a wedding ceremony. You don't think too much about it, unlinking your arm with his to put the glass down, surprise on your face when he dives in for another kiss on the podium, lips pressed to yours as all you can taste in champagne, tongue pressed to yours with wet hair framing his face, stickiness from the alcohol on his face when you reach for his cheek, thumb brushing at it as he dips you for real this time, swallowing you whole on stage as squirm to push him off of you. You're sticky from the drink too, rose definitely on his tongue when he kisses you. You finally break free, head thrown back as he rests his head in the crook of your neck with a blissful sigh.

"God, that was so worth it."

"Kennedy, you're crazy."

"Only for you."

You fight back the grimace, opting for smacking him instead.

"We're not going for dinner first today. We're showering."

"Together?"

"No, you freak."

Leon sighs, burying his head in your chest instead.

"As long as we can get dinner after."

"I want your Nonna's pasta."

"Buying tickets right now."

"YOU HAVE AN INTERVIEW."

Leon presses a kiss to your cheek, staring at you through his lashes as he huffs. "Tomorrow, then. We can get room service for tonight."

"Only if—"

"I'll pay."

"Deal."

You let Leon wrap an arm around your waist as he cheers some more, your eye roll caught on camera for the media to see, but it doesn't really matter. Leon squeezes his cheek to yours, arm snug around your waist as he sticks his tongue out for the cameras, trophy held up for the world to see. You bet he’d wear your name around his neck if you asked him. Actually, you wonder how the hell he even got the title of playboy or flirt. Whatever Chad energy this man had when he started racing was NOT visible when he started working with you. This man is a walking loser stuck in a hot man’s body. Your loser, though.

Thank god you went to grab coffee first race of the season.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

it does something incomprehensible to my little writer’s soul whenever alex articulates a phenomenon of the writing process i’ve always picked up on and then goes on to describe it in exactly the same way

[izzy-b-hands]

15 QUESTIONS FOR 15 FRIENDS

Tagged by @sherlockig, thank u Alexz!!

Under the cut bc I got wordy and rambly as per usual lol.

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

Kind of? In that I more or less named myself after Izzy from our flag lol. Not that I'm going to tell everyone I meet that, but it is a big part of why I stuck with it after trying it out (that, and I've always wanted a name that had the letter zed in it, silly as that may seem.)

One of my middle names (that I had been using as a first name for a few years) is after my grandfather and aunt who also have that name as their middle name.

My deadname was after an actress famous in the 90s (tho tbh my mum apparently didn't choose it for that, she chose it bc she didn't find out my gender until I was Out and then was like 'aw fuck I don't have a name for this situation' and went with the first one she saw in a book of names a nurse gave her. It was only after that she remembered the actress when I was like. 4. that she changed and started telling ppl it was after that instead.)

And technically Holden is after the book character, but mum never actually read that book (and after I described it to her, said she has no interest in doing so lmao), she just liked how the name sounded and that was the one solitary name she for sure had on hand when I was born apparently. Could have saved us all time had she just used that one for me anyway!

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

Couple of nights ago. I'm doing better abt missing my cat Nisha, but my phone will toss up compilations of pics of her to mark the year/month/etc and sometimes those still get me. It popped up just before I went to bed that night and I was already so tired that I just. broke down. Bc I know she's v loved and looked after w/my mum, but I do miss her goofy lil self a lot. She was my first cat that was given to me and meant to be mine alone, and there's something abt that first pet bond I guess.

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Nope, and it's not a likely thing for me. I've said before that that happening would be in a very specific situation, wherein I'm with someone who wants to dedicate the rest of our lives to raising a child, or god forbid more than one, tho I think I'd max out at two if I managed one at all tbh (and that's not even getting into the very complex for me thing of would I want to actually be pregnant ever (probably not, absolutely terrified of dying in childbirth and don't see myself getting over that easily), we have the funds to make that happen (and give the kid a good life, not just a decent one or 'could have been worse' like my own), and we feel stable mentally, emotionally, and physically (as much as one can outside of Life Happening of course) bc having a kid means putting allll of that first for them, ahead of yourself. Or at least I think it should mean that lol.

But that situation is incredibly unlikely considering my bigger goal in life is to wind up being a third for multiple couples while also fucking any of my friends who are down for it in a big poly ENM sort of thing for lack of better/more detailed definition (I know it sounds unrealistic and maybe it is to a degree, almost definitely is lol.)

I can admit I just. don't want to uproot the life I've been trying so hard to build for myself in so many ways, to have kids. I'll happily help babysit the kids of any friends tho and be the fun uncle that buys them junk food and lets them stay up late to watch movies. I think that's about the level of parenting of any kind that I can handle for now (also tbh I burned out on parenting bc my family admits they parentified the fuck outta me with my three younger cousins. It by far could have been worse, but I spent my teens spending most of my days after school helping look after them from the newborn years and on. Unless my above uber specific scenario happens, then I've probably had my fill of parenting for my lifetime.)

4. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

I played volleyball for a few years in elementary school, and we were made to participate in a multi-school track and field thing for most of middle school every year, but I was never amazing at them. Housemate and I have figured out I likely have undiagnosed asthma tho (turns out running or going out in too cold or hot weather shouldn't instantly make you gasp, struggle to breathe, and make you taste iron in your mouth, who the fuck knew? Not me, genuinely) so I think that might have a lot to do with it.

I also enjoy tennis and badminton and would love to try rugby, but I've never played any of those beyond a hobby with family/friends.

5. DO YOU USE SARCASM?

I do! Probably too much and not always in the best situations, but I've been working for years to hone when and where it should be used so I think/hope I'm a lot better with it than I was when I was younger. Tho even then, I did get adults who found it funny when I was sarcastic bc of how adult I seemed to a lot of them (their words, not mine lmao.)

6. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

I genuinely don't know. Usually I'm too busy running my script for meeting new ppl in my head and trying to maintain Common and Expected Etiquette to really notice much right away. I have found that after a bit of time/after the initial meeting has passed, I tend to notice colours ppl wear more often than others if I see them often enough, or hair colour. But I don't know if it counts towards this question at that point lol.

7. WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR?

Kinda blueish grey? Some ppl say it's too grey to be blue, others that it's too blue to be grey. I had a lady at the ND DOT freak out abt not being sure if I should have blue or grey on my ID a few years back, and she finally just told me to put blue so 'she could stop feeling so confused.' Was a weird day and the first time I realised apparently they really do have a blend of both colours, enough for it to be upsetting lmao.

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

I can't choose between the two; I like both! I also like mixing them together when I write (a scary story with a happy ending, an ending that seems happy but is actually terrifying, so on and so forth.)

9. ANY TALENTS?

Writing? Maybe, I always list it bc it's something I know how to do and to (usually) do decently well. I can sort of draw? But not well enough that I think 'talented' would be accurate to describe how I draw lol. I'm not sure of anything else off the top of my head tbh.

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

In California, USA! We were there bc dad was in basic training for the Marines and then just got stuck at Camp Pendleton for years lmao (or that's how he always talks abt it anyway lmao.) Only was actually there until either: a. I was 3 months old, b. I was 6 months old or c. I was actually basically still a fresh newborn. Depends on whether you're talking to my dad, mum, or grandparents as to which answer you get, and at this point I'm genuinely uncertain as to exactly when mum left and took me to North Dakota but 6 months seems the most potentially accurate lmaooo.

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

Writing, drawing, reading (not enough but I'm trying to remedy that), napping, watching movies/fave shows, and giffing.

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?

Kind of? My cat Nisha had to stay in North Dakota after I moved, so my mum and her bf are looking after her now (and got her a little sister, a kitten who is getting so big already!, named Bella.) I help Housemate look after aer two cats as well, and I'd like to think the boys consider me like their fun uncle lol (aka I bend over backwards for them and let them steal my spot on the couch all the time, and will break out the treats if needed to corral them now and then. In my defense: they are the cutest lil baby boy cats and they deserve the world, even when they're being little gremlins lmao.)

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

Approximately somewhere between 5'3 and 5'4ish? I can't recall the last time I was actually measured, and most of the ppl I've been around were somewhere between those heights and I'm usually either slightly shorter or slightly taller than some of them, so??? I put 5'3 on my ID tho lol

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

English bc it was easy and I liked almost everything we did in that class. All my general and more specific history courses were a close second, and my foreign language classes a close third.

15. DREAM JOB?

Ideally, I'd love to not have to work. But who wouldn't, so that said, probably something in a library or museum. I'd love to be a library page again, or help work the front desk/docent duties of a museum. Working at someplace like Mystic Seaport would be amazing too; I'd be happy to learn how to help repair/repaint ships that come in or just help do tours or look after artifacts and stuff (tbh they could hire me just to type up any random data entry work they need done for any/all depts and I'd say yes to the job offer lol.) Unfortunately there's fairly significant roadblocks to me achieving any of these jobs rn, but I like to keep them in mind, just in case.

Also, if I can have one dream job that would be even more unlikely and is slightly TMI probably but: paid third for a rich couple. I show up, look nice, [redacted], make sure they're both good for the night, then go back home to Housemate (if it wouldn't be a night they'd want me to stay over, which I wouldn't be against but also. That would require some overtime pay lol.) The chances of this one are...so unlikely it's stupid funny, but a man's allowed to have dreams right lmao?

Tagging (if u guys wanna, no obligation if u don't wanna/have already been tagged/etc!!): @starmoonchildfromthebeamsabove, @freebooter4ever, @willowenigma, @turtleduck-tales, @mash1972, @mysteriouslybluepirate, @turtles-on-turts, @cononeillbreastingboobily, @treesofgreen, @dianetastesmetal, @arsenicflame, @gydima, @king-bussy, @p0ochy, @crvwly, and anyone else following me who wants to!

[letteredlettered]

Went to a panel about slash fanfic at a con. Moderator said, "Welcome to the panel about erotica." The words "slash" and "erotica" were used interchangeably throughout. Panel was great.

There was a Q&A at the end so I raised my hand and said these terms seemed conflated. Moderator explained she'd run this panel for 10 years and it started out being about slash but drifted into erotica and she never changed the name. (She also said she was glad I brought it up and would keep it in mind for the future of the panel.) The guy on the panel who writes original m/f erotica said that slash and what he writes are basically the same thing. I said I had no complaints about the name of the panel or the panelists, I was just curious about what slash meant to them, and whether slash by necessity had to include sex scenes to be considered slash.

Two panelists answered that slash was romance between men but usually had sex. Eventually one of them did make clear that slash didn't have to have sex but that it was what they wanted to read. Another panelist said that to them slash really just meant dude romance but people wouldn't read their fic unless there was sex so they felt they had to put sex scenes in.

Person came up to me after the panel. Said they felt I didn't get my question answered. Then they explained that since the 70s, 'slash' has been used to mean m slash m romance, meaning explicit and sexual. Then they said it sounded like what I wanted to ask about was shipping. They explained to me that shipping is just wanting the characters to be together but slash meant sex. They explained that since the invention of AO3, people had begun to use the ampersand to mean the fic had two characters who were friends and that the slash was used to denote ships, but even though that punctuation just meant romance, the word "slash" in the last twenty years had become synonymous with explicit fic. I explained I had been in fandom longer than twenty years and this was not necessarily my experience. They said, "Bye!"

Though they seemed confused as to whether what they personally defined as slash had been mainstream since the 70s or since the last twenty years (the person was 24), they were well-meaning. The panel was great. I'd recommend it to anyone, though I'm not stating the name of the con here because I don't want anyone involved to feel this is really a critique of the panel itself. The moderator in particular was superb.

I think that this conversation just brought up a whole lot of feelings for me. I think it bothers me that people still think that all fanfic is smutty, that all slash requires porn, and that all fic must have porn in order to be read. I am familiar with this conflation and feel perfectly fine going to a panel that I think is about slash fic and finding out it's about erotic lit, some of which is fanfic. After all, I like both, and I recognize that fandom mushes these things together and teasing them out into separate strands isn't something everyone--or possibly even most fans--have any interest in. I recognize that I am pedantic to a degree that most people find uninteresting.

I have a little bit more of a problem with the idea that slash is "basically the same" as het, but this was said by only one of the panelists. If your panel is actually about straight up erotica and not slash, then the problem is just the name of the panel.

What I found the most frustrating, however, is that whenever I have this conversation, I feel like the default assumption most of my interlocutors begin AND end with is this: smut is why we're here. And I just don't understand that. Away Childish Things has 44,800 kudos, and it has no smut in it. My next most kudosed fic has almost 15,000 kudos and tons of smut. My next most kudosed fic has almost 14,000 kudos and it doesn't even have a kiss.

I'm not talking about kudos to show off how many I have, or because I think kudos make a point about quality of a fic. They have nothing to do with quality. But they do have to do with popularity, and the truth is, sex doesn't sell. It's something else. It's not good writing. It's not a great plot. It's not in-character characterization. IT'S SOMETHING ELSE. What is it?

I've had people say to me, "Well, you're lettered; it works differently for you." DOES IT??? Maybe they meant that because enough people know me as fic author, people will read my fic anyway, but let me tell you, it's always been this way for me, long before my fic was really popular. The ones with smut did not get more praise and attention. The ones that PEOPLE LIKED got more praise and attention. Do people like fic that has smut in it more than fic without smut? Some of the time! Does there have to be smut for people to like it? NO.

Have I had people tell me they didn't want to read something I wrote because it didn't have smut? YES. But the point I'm trying to make is, there are people who want to read fic that doesn't have smut in it. THEY are your audience for the fic you want to write that doesn't have smut in it. Fic does not have to have smut to be fic; it doesn't have to have smut to be read.

I think part of the reason I get so upset about it is that slash as we know it today didn't just emerge because some people weren't getting to read smut and they wanted to. It emerged because women and queer people and other marginalized communities were not getting to see what they wanted to in mainstream media. They weren't getting sex scenes, but they also weren't getting queer content, they weren't getting stories about sensitive men that defied patriarchal stereotypes of male toxicity; they weren't getting stories about disabled folks and people of color and folks who are into kink and folks who have different lifestyles. To reduce fanfic to porn is to remove the rich history of why it exists and who it exists for.

I asked earlier what makes a fic popular, and to me, it's exactly this. It's when you read a thing and you feel, "this is really satisfying to my id in a way that I am not getting from mainstream media." And sometimes what is satisfying to your id is very horny anal sex. Other times what is satisfying to your id is Bucky Barnes getting a blanket and facing his trauma. Sometimes it's Harry Potter being trans. Sometimes it's Naruto and Sasuke getting to just hold hands as the sun sets. I have no idea who those two people are but boy howdy do I know they just fucking need to hold hands.

But the other reason I get so upset about it is I'm so fucking tired of reading a great fic that devolves into mediocre mechanical porn that is there due to the collective brainwashing that states that this is the ONLY reason ALL of us are here.

Discuss.

[navstuffs]

Traffic stop

Pairing: Rookie!Leon Kennedy x BustyF!Reader

Summary: Your sports bra malfunctions during a traffic stop with a shy rookie cop.

Warnings: au obvs, happens in raccoon city, wrote with a busty reader in mind but anyone can read it, shy!leon, accidental exposure, suggestive themes, speeding (DRIVE SAFE PEOPLE!!)

Author's Notes: kudos to my husband for giving me the idea/title. if anyone would like to write a smut version of this, i also wouldn't mind, just let me know! i do have another plan for re2 leon in works cause he is my baby. hope you enjoy your reading!

my leon's masterlist | part 2

It is still hot, you think as you exit the gym after an exhausting leg day. You decide to wear your sports bra while driving home since your car's air conditioner has not worked since you bought it. You always think you will have money to fix it or even buy a new car, but you must work with what you have now.

You sigh, throwing your bag and your shirt on the backseat. The pain in your legs will only worsen, so you decide to drive fast to get home, shower, and relax. And oh, yes, hope the wind provides some sort of comfort on your face. Placing your sunglasses in your eyes, you start going, mentally praying you wouldn't see any cop.

But of course, this isn't your lucky day.

Not even ten minutes on the road, the sound of the siren from a car of Raccoon City P.D. is behind you. You groan an audible no, asking mentally what you did to deserve this.

"Perfect. Great," Your murmur.

You pull into a nearby parking lot, take the paperwork from the glove compartment and throw it in the passenger seat, the air already getting stagnant inside the car, making you sweat.

Your eyes roam to the rearview mirror, wondering where the heck that cop was, when you notice the zipper of your sports bra is half open. You attempt to zip it, but it immediately unzips it again, leaving half of your cleavage exposed. You think it doesn't look bad, so you leave it alone. It is not like you were driving topless anyway.

With droplets of sweat on your forehead, you see the cop coming out in your driver-side mirror. Finally, you think as he takes his sweet time to get to you. He looks young. He seems to take a breath before walking to your car, pulling his pants up and his other hand on his gun, and even someone who doesn't understand anything about cops would know this guy is a rookie.

He approaches slowly and carefully, analyzing your old car, and when he finally stops by your window, the first thing you catch is a pair of innocent blue eyes. Staring right at you.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." You read the name tag Leon Kennedy as his eyes go from your face to your sports bra half open. Officer Leon probably has a great view since your car is on the lower side. He gulps, you don't know if nervousness or something else, then stares directly above your head.

"Afternoon."

"Do you know how fast you were going?" Oh, this one is definitely a rookie, with his voice still showing some nervousness.

"Yeap, I know."

You really don't want to prolong this more than it should, and the way Leon Kennedy seems to stare everywhere except you proves he wants the same.

"Look. I was just trying to get home. Just issue the ticket, and I will be on my way. I will behave, I promise."

That clearly sounded more seductive than you meant to be. You don't judge yourself as a woman who could get out of a ticket by flirting; honestly, you didn't care at this moment. Your whole body is getting sweaty and sticky, with a few drops of sweat coming down from your neck, and your legs are literally pulsating with pain. It is worth trying.

And just for the right timing, you feel a single drop of sweat coming down from your neck to your cleavage. Leon Kennedy's blue eyes follow the trail until the drop disappears inside your bra top, and he gulps, licking his lips.

Well, you may be one of those women who can get away from a ticket by flirting.

"License and breas— I mean, car registration, please."

Leon thanks mentally you don't seem to hear his mispronunciation. You grunt, impatience, turning to grab your documents for Leon. When you turn back at him to hand them, your zipper finally gives up, opening it up completely. It is a nice feeling at first, the same feeling you have from having your boobs released after a long day.

For a moment, you both don't move, too mortified. Officer Leon Kennedy is now staring, really staring, at your boobs. He doesn't even attempt to look away, his face entirely red as a tomato. Your immediate reaction is to try to close the zipper, but it seems it had enough. Leon finally turns around, mumbling an apology.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry, Officer!" You groan as you give up on zipping, going for the shirt under your bag in the back seat. 

"It-it is fine!" Leon rushes to say, his voice going high a few tones. If this wasn't embarrassing as it was, you would have laughed at the poor rookie's reaction. But now, great, you were probably going to be arrested for public indecency. You finally find a towel, a medium one, that might work. You cover yourself as best as you can.

After Leon gives you a few moments of privacy, he turns back to face you, and you know, by the expression on his face, you are doomed. You were probably getting arrested for trying to seduce a cop-out of a ticket. 

"You can go, ma'am."

"What? Like that?" You wonder before stopping yourself.

"Well, y-yeah. I can see you have much bigger problems to deal with it. Have a good day."

Leon gives you one good final look, a strange glow in his eyes. It seems he wants to say something else, but the moment passes. Leon gives you a slight smirk, his face still red, and walks back to his car.

You watch Leon drive away, your gazes somewhat crossing before he disappears into traffic. You sigh, the external heat forgotten, hoping this isn't your last encounter with Leon Kennedy.

[guardianofnightmares]

Forbidden

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot.

... or, rather, for any sensible Prime.

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

"... is it wrong that I feel... bad for the prisoners? That I... periodically... h-help them?"

----------

Hello everyone, long time no see). Can hardly believe it's been a whole year since the last @blitzbee-week event and man, was I glad to participate in it once more. All of works were submitted on time to an event chat, but, unfortunately, I am uploading them here only now (full-time job drains me up).

Anyways, here is my first drawing from BlitzBeeWeek event Promts List. I think it will be fair to mention that this and next couple of my works will be dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". I will leave a link [here] for anyone interested to give it (and an existing teaser) a try. And yes, I am, in fact, going to finally upload first chapters pretty soon, it's happening, guys))). Thanks a ton for everyone who left their kudos there throughout a year, you have given me courage to put this behemoth of a story on paper and actually work it through.

As for the current entry for an event, I will provide part of a draft to one of chapters which is related to a depicted scene. It'll be "hidden" under a cut line for anyone wishing to get a more... fleshed out picture of what's going on here. Hope you'll enjoy reading it)

----------

“Bumblebee… are you listening to me?”

It was beyond confusing for Ratchet to see a younger Bot acting so out of touch with reality. He’s hunched over a console, helm resting in one servo while a wielding tool was twirled slowly in digits of another. Bumblebee looked so tired, clearly not caring about a task at servo, nor about an advice coming from his elder friend.

White and red Autobot knew how cheerful Bumblebee got each time they met via video calls, clearly waiting for a chance to talk to old teammates, even if these calls didn’t last long. That’s why him being so silent and lost in own thoughts was that much more worrying to witness. 

Upon being prompted again, the young bot finally raised his optics, the weight of his gaze almost making Ratchet flinch in surprise - to think that a recently promoted Prime was capable of behaving so out of character was indeed an alarming sign of change. 

The truth was, the minibot couldn’t help but to act all secretive, as if he’s done something wrong. 

Because, all things considered, he has. 

Minibot was well aware of what his actions could lead up to. All those rendezvous and revelations were such a dangerous subject to talk about, something that surely could lead him to being court marshaled if he’s caught by anybot. And what’s even worse - Bumblebee wasn’t certain whether telling friends what’s been troubling him was a good idea. 

Surely they’d not rat him out… but would they continue interacting with a yellow Autobot if he shared said secret with them? Wouldn't it be more mature of him to leave mechs oblivious (in order to protect them) and let his fears to silently fester in his processor?

... yet, to his shame, a minibot felt his resolve to keep his intake shut breaking upon seeing a haunted expression on Ratchet’s faceplates. Bumblebee wished he hadn’t looked up into the wise optics of his, those that seemed to read him as an unlocked datapad. How could he play it cool when a medic was looking at him in such a manner?

“…kid?” Now Ratchet was truly worried for his companion. He wasn’t even certain he’s ready to hear an explanation, but knew in his spark that he had to get to the bottom of a problem for minibot's sake.

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot. 

… or, rather, for any sensible Prime. 

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

“… is it wrong that I feel… bad for the prisoners? That I… periodically… h-help them?” 

… a fleeting moment or relief at voicing his concerns instantly evaporated, changed to regret once he saw Racthet’s optics widening beyond usual capacity and heard Optimus sputtering and coughing on his energon ration off the camera. 

Such reaction made Bumblebee hide his helm between shoulder pauldrons in a clear sign of dread - so much for the support coming from teammates it seemed. 

“What?” Optimus asked after standing up from a table he’s sitting next to, the stool screeching audibly after a mech span in it. “Help them? What do you mean by that, Bumblebee? Are you alright? Do they… force you to do something for them or..?”

Minibot didn’t answer any of those questions. Wasn’t able to do it under the searching gaze of an elder mech’s optics which seemed to pin him to his own stool. Bumblebee felt like energon was going to freeze in his lines and tubes from a rising horror. Time seemed to stop for him, not unlike inner mechanisms in a frame of his. He couldn't utter a single sound, words swimming in a jumbled mess that was his processor.

What could he possibly say in his defense, now that his teammates knew of his secret? That there was a proper reason for him to feel pity for the inmates? That he was the only one to keep those mechs alive because nobody else did? That perhaps, Primus help him, all this time they were held in prison, somebot tried to take them out of game by starving them to their deaths?

A yellow Bot clearly hasn’t thought the conversation through, just as he always did, hasn't prepared himself for such a reaction even, and now that mistake was biting his aft. 

But then… then minibot heard something that immediately tore him from a panicking state he got stuck in. 

“I’ll take care of it, Prime.” Ratchet announced in a calm tone, breaking the tense silence which settled over the video call. Bumblebee was so stunned that he didn’t register those words right away, looking dumbly at warm optics of a mech on the other side of a call line. 

“But-“ 

“Optimus.” Medic cut off his commanding officer in a stern but good-natured manner, showing that he knew what he’s doing. Trusting the judgement of an older Bot, red and blue mech nodded to him and stepped away from a console, giving both of his friends some room to talk to each other. 

Young Prime could hardly believe what he’s been witnessing in front of him. Afraid to hope that his situation might’ve not been so dire after all. Baiting his breath, he watched red and white Bot turning to him again and leaning closer to a screen.

“Bumblebee, tell me, what’s happening back on Cybertron.” Ratchet asked his young friend, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, ready to tentatively listen to everything minibot’s about to say. 

And that’s when Bumblebee understood, felt it in his spark which gleefully thrummed in his chest that his old teammates were not mad at him - only worried for his well-being. Said realization made the built up over orbital cycles tension leave his frame and gave him courage to answer as honestly as he could.  

“You don’t know even half of what's going on, guys,” He stated after a breath moment of silence, then scooted on his chair closer to a screen as well and continued speaking in a hushed tone as to not to be heard by anyone else on his side of a video call. 

While retelling the recent events, which took place in Tripticon Prison, young Prime couldn’t help but periodically glance at a screen to his right side, a list of main convicts taking up most of its surface. 

Their stern gazes seemed to burn a viewer with hostility. Evil, cold, sparkless optics on unsightly faceplates. That’s what fellow guards always tended to whisper to each other either in fear or in bold mockery while walking down the hallways.

But to Bumblebee the very same pairs of optics, those he'd looked into more times then any of the local mechs, more then his friends even, told another story. Each time he saw Decepticons, bound and stripped of their weapons, there was no rage in their expressions, nor malice or contempt - only an eternal tiredness, hopelessness... and resignation with Fate.

Warframes. Mighty mechs being brought to their knees and stripped of their pride. Truly a sight which made minibot feel more miserable then three inmates he tried to take care of.

“Bossbot… Ratchet… please, come back here as soon as you can," Recently promoted Prime finally said as a conclusion to his speech. "I… I am afraid I won’t be able to handle this situation on my own anymore.”

[ao3-shenanigans]

Hi! Just a thing I wrote in honor of Comment Day. Maybe you might want to read/share it?

Every writer I have never known a writer is always happy to get positive feedback, but some readers believe if they leave kudos or a comment, they’re bothering the writer. Here’s a comparison that might explain why that isn’t the case.

Imagine that the fanfic is a play, and the author has worked really hard on the whole thing: costumes, scenery, the plot, characterization, everything. It’s opening night. The stage manager (AO3) gives the author the headcount (hit number) of the audience (the readers). The writer is now able to imagine 10 or 100 or 1000 people sitting in the audience, watching what they have created. While a big number is fantastic, most writers are thrilled anyone wants to see what they’ve made.

When the play is over, the writer comes out to take a bow.  One hundred people are in the audience.

Two people clap (left a kudos).

Everyone else gets up and walks out in silence.

Obviously, the writer is happy these two people clapped, but they’re also thinking, “Did… did the other 98 people hate it? Were those pity claps? Was it that bad?”

That’s what’s happening on AO3. A fantastic single-chapter fic will get over a thousand hits and wind up with maybe 5 to 10% of those readers leaving kudos. The other 90% could include people re-reading, and numbers get more complicated with multichapter fics since readers can leave kudos only once.

But essentially, a lot of readers see a fic as being more like a movie, where the audience just leaves at the end. It’s even harder for an “older” fic (“older” can sometimes be applied to fics posted only a month ago), where the “play” has been running a while, the author is still there doing everything, but now people decide since it’s not new, there’s no point in showing they liked it.

Maybe one in a hundred readers, sometimes fewer, leaves a written comment. This is like hearing someone in that theater cheering. If it’s a piece of feedback that’s more detailed than a keysmash or an “I like this,” that person is giving the author a standing ovation. And if someone recommends the fic somewhere, maybe saying so in a comment, it’s like getting a rave review on the cover of the New York Times!

All of these are happy things. Kudos, comments of any length, recs, all of them make an author’s day shiny and happy. They’re absolutely fantastic! No writer is bothered by anyone doing these things.

Maybe you’re still thinking, okay, I can see I’m not bothering the writer, but does just writing “I really enjoyed this fic” do anything?

Yes. Because there are the other, less happy responses. Some comments might be demands, making the comment less about thanking the writer and more turning it into a to do list for them. Some authors see their work has been bookmarked only to realize it has a note like “this is awful” or “TLDR” or “started okay but was stupid by the end.” The default for bookmarks is everyone can see them. Finally, anyone who has written fic for any length of time has dealt with flames. These aren’t constructive criticism; they’re flat out abuse, ranging from name calling to highly detailed insults that are the exact reverse of a long, happy comment. Authors look in their email, see someone has commented on their fic, and are thrilled, only to read the comment and be told they are worthless, stupid, untalented. Everyone gets these sometimes, and writers should ignore them, but most of us have sometimes cried over them. Picture that same theater full of silent people, with one or two people clapping, and suddenly someone stands up and starts booing and hurling rotten tomatoes on stage. Readers might not even know it’s happening since writers usually delete those comments. But they still sting.

Kudos and compliments are not annoying anyone. Flames, on the other hand, are awful. The difference is the polite reader who chooses to say nothing out of shyness backs away from doing something that will make the writer happy, while the rude reader actively goes out of their way to make the writer unhappy.

I’ve been in fandom quite a while. Interaction has dropped since the old days, and it’s even dropped off over time at AO3. I’m not sure why, unless it’s that readers regard hits as being like views on TikTok. Since TikTok’s algorithm chooses what will show up more often in people’s feeds based on views, that makes some sense there, but AO3 doesn’t do that. There is no popularity contest writers are winning through views. Unless you tell them, they may think you hated what they wrote and that the flames are the genuine overall reaction.

The moral? If you love something, or even like it, show the writer some appreciation. The second it takes to leave a kudos might make them feel happy the whole day.

Comments and Kudos are probably some of the best gifts to give your favorite artists and storytellers (they’re free and easy too!)

[gffa]

You are not only deeply knowledgeable on Star Wars, but also consistently and patiently share that knowledge, even when people seem to intentionally misunderstand you. I admire that about you and I simply wanted to express it. Kudos.

This is really sweet, thank you for such kind words! I will always admit that I am not as kind or as patient as I sometimes wish I were, I'm still human and I have limits like anyone else. But I was thinking about this again the other day and it still holds true: I have often regretted snapping at someone, even when it was fully deserved and justified. I don't like who it makes me. I don't like having to live with that anger in my veins. I have never once regretted being kind to the best of my ability. Even when the other person is an asshole and stays an asshole, I have never looked back and regretted doing my best to be patient and as gentle as I can be. Because it's not about them, seriously. It's about me. It's about the people in the fandom who I do care about and I don't want my snide remarks spilling over onto them, because they don't deserve it. And I'm nowhere near perfect at it, some people probably consistently find me super grating, but I'm at least genuinely trying and I'm okay with that. I've spent a lot of time rubbernecking drama in other fandoms and it has taught me so much about how behavior comes off to outsiders--you can have as much justification for your actions as you want, but if you act like a pill, however justified that might be, a lot of people are just going to go, "Christ, what a pill." All over some ridiculous dumbass space opera fairy tale written by some guy! It's fine to be genuinely invested in things, I love being a Star Wars nerd, but real people have to come before fandom stuff and I think it helps to remember that it's not just you in fandom, but there are a whole lot of people who are going to see the things you post. And yeah I'm annoying as hell, I'm fine with that 😂, but also I'm an annoying person who will shove as many resources and stuff at you as you're interested in reading!!! And I'm very lucky that I've found other people to share that generosity in fandom with me, thank you guys for being really cool to hang out with. You've made these last few weeks in Star Wars fandom really kinda tolerable and that's no small feat!

[aurorialwolf]

REDACTED CHARACTERS AS CARS (based on the cars faces mostly, some on vibes)

To clarify this is NOT what I think they would drive, it is the car that I think they are!! (my apologies if this has already been done in the same way before, im sure ive seen another one of these but this is my take on it!) (all pictures DO NOT belong to me!) David - 2024 Honda Odyssey (it looks so serious and ready for duty)

Asher - Neon green Giulia Quadrifolgio (the green is based on a fic i read, also i think this one is him bc it looks like its trying not to laugh)

Milo - BMW M4 Coupe Individual Fire Orange, very specifically (it gives short and feisty vibes)

Sam - No I will not apologize

Vincent - 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Coupe (yes the one from the useless facts video, vincent is that car idc)

Porter - Something like this or something more low-key bc hes a smooth dude idk

Alexis - White Sedan (trust me. look this car up and tell me it doesnt look like. alexis vibes)

Gavin - This godless beast /lh

Caelum - This thing. Also he would drive this one so this is an exception to my earlier statement

Vega - Armoured car (idk what brand it might be under there)

Damien - whatever this is (he would NOT drive this but it gives the fiery and intense vibes that he does)

Huxley - 2024 Jeep Wrangler (low hanging fruit, I know)

Lasko - 1972 Ferrari (it looks so shy)

Kody - Chrysler Grand Caravan (VERY different from the Dodge Grand Caravan, rest in peace) (god i hate the chrysler grand caravan)

ILL MAKE MORE OF THESE IF YALL FOUND IT FUNNY! kudos to anyone else who made this kind of post before me, it wasnt inspired by anyone (literally the last car giving kody vibes is what inspired this whole thing jdkfghskjdh) but i know it had to have been done before and i think it was a moot of mine but i cant remember sowwy :(

[olderthannetfic]

So i get the whole "Ao3 isn't social media, don't put so much value on comments and kudos, you should be writing for yourself not for external validation" thing, that's all fine and cool and true. What bugs me is the people who seem to get a weird sense of superiority from "not caring" or "not reading" comments etc.

Cause let's be honest, external validation feels good. No, it shouldn't be the reason you write and you shouldn't base your self esteem on that, but it's nice when people like your art and it's fine to get excited about that, and to be proud of that.

You wouldn't tell a director not to be happy about people liking their movie, right?

Yes, some people get super obsessed with checking their comments and stats and it's neither healthy for them nor their writing because it ends up all hinging on other people's opinions. But then some people seem to genuinely think that the moment you give even a single shit about what people think, that makes you vain and somehow takes value away from your art.

I've seen that with visual art too, where artists will say basically "oh i only make art for myself, therefore im not allowed to care what anyone thinks" but... you can do both. You can create things to express yourself and just have fun for yourself and not others AND you can appreciate the fact other people connect to it and like it. It's only human instinct, but some people really do act like it's morally wrong somehow.

--

You shouldn't rely on external validation because that's a good way to get eaten alive by insecurity. That's an observation about what makes it more likely that you'll finish a piece of writing and less likely that you'll feel terrible.

But liking to interact on AO3 is just what fandom is. Fandom is all about connecting with other people over shared interests.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 2)

Hello again! Welcome to the second installment of me sharing with you a mere fraction of the too-many Sterek fics I have read and bookmarked on AO3!

Before we get to the list, I just wanted to say thank you all for liking and sharing the last post. I'm not someone who comments that often on fics (I don't do things that make me anxious, as a rule, and commenting on fics makes me unreasonably anxious), so I want to give back to these authors outside of my kudos and bookmarks. This is how I'm doing that. So thanks for noticing, and I hope you enjoy the fics! I have loved them dearly for a while now.

Alright, enough from me.

Smooches, darlings!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

************************************************************************

DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

************************************************************************

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

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Aftereffects by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (G | 1/1 | 1,473)

Stiles lives with the aftereffects.

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Shadowplay by Medie (T | 1/1 | 1,576)

Since the day of his birth, the shadows have loved him.

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It's a Jeep Thing by riventhorn (T | 1/1 | 2,629)

On the day she arrived at the Stilinski home, the Sheriff stayed in the driver’s seat for twenty minutes, fingers kneading her steering wheel anxiously. He had been muttering to himself the entire way back from the lot, all variations on: Am I insane? How can I give this to him? He’s going to kill someone. He’s going to kill himself.

Stiles's Jeep's pov on werewolves, hyperactive teen boys, and Derek Hale.

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After All by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (T | 1/1 | 2,954)

Being a magical fairy-gift whose whole existence is a demonstration of the supernatural amazingness of your fathers' love story ought to be a good thing.

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Cuckoo by herlovewasajoke (T | 1/1 | 3,790)

Deaton uncovers a secret. What he does with it could destroy everything Stiles has built.

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To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar by FaeryQueen07 (E | 1/1 | 5,241)

It’s the summer before senior year and Stiles is doing just fine. Right up until he gets shitfaced and tells a room full of drag queens that he’s attracted to an alpha werewolf and that oh, yeah, he’s been wondering about whether or not they have knots. It all goes downhill from there, but in a good way.

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No place for no hero by ellievolia (M | 1/1 | 5,370)

But now, as he looks at Derek’s face, the storm lurking right underneath his eyelashes, the frown firmly back in place on his features, the Sheriff can’t help but hope that he will do something Sheriff Stilinski himself can’t do, nor ask for Derek to do. They nod at each other over Stiles’ hospital bed, and Sheriff Stilinski stands up.

Warning for graphic depiction of a mugging that degenerates into a stabbing.

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There's A Wolf-Shaped Float In This Parade by concernedlily (G | 3/3 | 7,524)

Two ways Sheriff Stilinski finds out and one he doesn't.

(Non-graphic references to past underage.)

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Your Face is Like a Melody (It Won't Leave My Head) by samshhh (T | 1/1 | 8,386)

Originally for a prompt on the kink meme:

"Since age three, Stiles has been dreaming of Derek. When he was younger, he would always babble about Derek and draw pictures of them together, etc. but everyone just assumed that Derek was his imaginary friend. Stiles himself didn't realize that Derek was a real person until he heard about the Hale fire but by that time, Derek and Laura had moved to New York. "

But it somehow mutated into a 8400 word behemoth featuring actual psychic Stiles Stilinski, soul bonding and wolfy mates.

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Solstice Alpha by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (E | 1/1 | 11,152)

The traditional Hale pack solstice party gets resurrected by the new and improved-from-ten-months-ago Hale pack.

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The Quiet Between Our Words by mytimehaspassed (M | 1/1 | 12,500)

Laura had told him that she would be right back.

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Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil by lemyh (T | 1/1 | 12,830)

When Stiles Stilinski signed up for his social psychology class, he wasn't sure what he expected from it. He definitely didn't expect the professor, a month in, to tell them they'd be spending the next three weeks actually living with certain handicaps.

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Hell is Other People series by tsukinofaerii (2 works | T-E | 15,937)

1. 9/10ths of the Law (T | 1/1 | 6,875) Stiles discovers the hazards of growing up a real boy when, at heart, he's not a real boy at all. 2. Something that Finds You (E | 1/1 | 9,062) Stiles always smelled like sulfur. After Derek finds out the truth, he and Stiles get closer than they'd ever planned.

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last night's dress (tiptoe out of this mess) by hito (M | 1/1 | 16,730)

Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme.

TFLN: My dad just asked me if my booty call guy that comes over at 3am and leaves at 6 would like to stay for Sunday brunch next week. You in?

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Wanderlust by Cheshyr (G | 8/8 | 18,147)

Stiles needs to move, to leave, and after graduation he has every intention to do just that. Unless his pack can convince him otherwise.

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To Build A House by theredhoodie (M | 1/1 | 19,590)

It's senior year and everything is fine. Except that it isn't, but it will be. Or that's what Stiles keeps telling himself. And there's only one person who can make sure that everything really will be fine.

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How To Be a Werewolf (And Other Extreme Sports) by gayfantasticfour (foxxing) (M | 7/7 | 23,971)

Derek decides that Stiles needs to be... trained. As much as Stiles can be trained. So Derek, with help from The Wolf Pack, teaches him how to be a werewolf without, you know, actually being a werewolf. Hijinks (of the emotional kind and otherwise) ensue.

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Culpa by ACR (M | 8/8 | 30,728)

Things for Stiles are really complicated. There’s a Harpy on the loose, his friendship with Scott is distant, and he might have feelings for Derek Hale. Oh, and also, he’s being possessed by a Demon.

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DILF by twentysomething (E | 1/1 | 30,871)

"Today is Scott's first day of kindergarten and Derek is terrified."

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The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (M | 7/7 | 116,686)

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

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[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where one of the characters is very protective over another character as requested in these two asks. You can find my other fic recs here. Please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

⚔️ This Multiplicity of Powers by HelloAmHere / @helloamhere

(E, 149k, X-Men au) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe.

⚔️ forever is in your eyes by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 125k, supernatural elements) He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

⚔️ cut your teeth on my heart by @turnyourankle

(E, 94k, bodyguard Louis) Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.

⚔️ And down the long and silent street by whimsicule

(M, 86k, historical) Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

⚔️ What I Have With You (I don't want with anyone else) by @lululawrence

(NR, 73k, omegaverse) Louis is an asexual alpha, Harry is his aromantic alpha friend and possible roommate, and faking a relationship might be exactly what they need to get their families and friends off their backs.

⚔️ this charade (was never going to last) by @scrunchyharry

(E, 68k, spies) As if the whole ‘industrial spy’ business was not stressful enough, Harry found himself in a hatred-at-first-sight relationship with one of his new coworkers, Louis, a man intent on detesting Harry.

⚔️ your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

⚔️ and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 56k, omegaverse) Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. 

⚔️ Close to Nowhere by @angelichl

(E, 34k, hate to love) Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

⚔️ Until the Pearls Get Lost by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k, omegaverse) Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again.

⚔️ Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(T, 18k, omegaverse) Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

⚔️ Unraveled by @allwaswell16

(E, 18k, bodyguard) They had reason to believe that Prime Minister Louis Tomlinson might be in danger, and they’d like Harry to act as his personal protection.

⚔️ Meet Me On The Forest Floor by @taggiecb

(M, 15k, fallen angel) Louis is an angel, and one day he does something that causes him to fall from heaven, and into the arms of Harry Styles, forestry officer, who cares for him until Louis can get back on his feet again.

Your Touch Is The Only Thing I Feel by @2tiedships2

(M, 15k, omegaverse) the one where Louis refuses to settle for just any alpha despite intense touch deprivation. Fortunately Harry isn't just any alpha.

⚔️ Heart Eyes by Snowy38 / @snowy38

(E, 10k, blind Harry) Seventeen years old, friends since they were eight, and they’d never been pushed into the kissing cupboard together before.

⚔️ In Shining Armour of Trackie and Trainers by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 9k, famous/not famous) Online dating isn't exactly working for Harry. In fact, it couldn't really be going much worse. But then the door of the bar opens, and the pack of friends walking in parts and - that’s Louis Tomlinson. Louis fucking Tomlinson.

⚔️ I’d Walk Through Fire For You (Just Let Me Adore You) by Neondiamond / @neondiamond

(E, 8k, omegaverse) Firefighter Louis is having an uneventful shift at the station when a call comes in about a devastating fire in a nearby apartment complex. All of his worst nightmares become reality when he realises it’s where Harry, his best friend who he’s had a relentless crush on for years, lives, and that said best friend is stuck inside among the flames.

⚔️ Just Hold On by SilverStuff50 / @silverstuff50

(M, 3k, famous/not famous) “It’s just not safe. You’re surrounded by people grabbing and pulling at you.” He looks Louis up and down appraisingly. “And you’re so-“ he stops himself when Joni shoots him a warning look.

⚔️ I Hope You Choke (on those words) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(E, 2k, bodyguard) Never in his career had he seen a musician as reckless when it came to personal safety as Louis Tomlinson.

- Rare Pairs -

⚔️ your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 97k, Zayn/Liam) A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. 

⚔️ Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by FallingLikeThis / @fallinglikethis

(M, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Liam still remembers the argument, still remembers the feelings of stubborn exasperation and eventual grudging acceptance, when his father had insisted that Liam needed a security detail while out doing his father’s bidding.

[ltleflrt]

This whole backlash against printing fics irks the fuck out of me, and I got some shit to say about it. Mostly "Fuck You" but here's some nuance:

On the surface, I understand where the naysayers are coming from. It's a legitimate fear that making a profit from fanworks will bring down the C&D Hammer on fandom. I get that. Do not put on the One Ring, or you'll risk the Eye of Sauron.

But here's the thing. Fuck capitalism. Fuck digital only. We're living in the digital dark ages, and 100 years from now huge swathes of our history, fact and fiction, will be lost to our descendants because there will be no physical copies of our lives for them to find in old libraries and boxes in the attic, etc.

Creators deserve physical copies of their creations, and so do the other people in the world who love them.

I don't want to profit from letting people print my fics. That's why I use Lulu, since they have an option to set zero profit and make the links hidden so only fans in the know can get a copy. Other printing sites I've looked at in the past don't have those options. In fact, the first time I ever even thought about printing one of my stories was when I won NaNo for the first time and one of the prizes was a coupon for 3 free printings of your story. HELL YEAH, that's a copy for me, a copy for my beta, and a copy for the artist who made the cover for me. Perfect! But I ended up not using that coupon, because the site required I set a profit margin, and did not have an option to make it private. Ummm, no thanks. Not worth the risk. And even though the profit margin could be set as low as ten cents, I did not want to make ANY money from my fic, because I know that would be breaking Fair Use rules. I found Lulu instead, and decided to let other people get copies too, because I'm nice. And if I don't, it's not like I can stop them from doing it themselves, no matter how much I'd rather they not do that.

But that's not good enough for the Reporting Trolls. Their argument is that it's not possible for it to be completely profit free, since Lulu makes a profit on the printing costs and the shipping carriers make a profit off the shipping costs. Someone is making a profit, and that's unacceptable, even if that someone is not Me, The Person Who Made The Printing and Shipping Worth Paying For.

I would like anyone who thinks that to delete your accounts where you read fanfiction. AO3, Wattpad, FFNet, LJ, Dreamwidth, hell even Tumblr for the short ficlet stuff that only gets posted here. Because even if the website it self isn't profiting, (AO3 for example), the companies that sold them their server hardware made a profit. Since utilities are privatized, the electric company that runs those servers are making a profit. IF YOU PRINT IT ON YOUR PRINTER AND PUT IT IN A 3 RING BINDER, the paper, printer, and ink manufacturers made a profit from your dinky little print out. The companies that build all the parts for your computer or your smartphone made a profit on your portal to the internet, who profits from your monthly subscription, just like your electric company profits from the power it takes to run your pc or charge your phone battery. IT'S A SLIPPERY FUCKING SLOPE, AND YOU NEED TO LEARN WHEN TO BACK AWAY FROM THE LEDGE.

We live in a Capitalist Hellscape, and if a company could figure out how to charge you to breathe and for every single beat of your heart, they'd fucking do it. So get off your goddamn high horses with this "wELL SoMEonE iS makINg PrOFit" bullshit. Or if you truly believe that, shut off every account you own, turn off your utilities, and go live in the woods and make up your own goddamn stories, which you can only share orally to the local wildlife. They give kudos by biting you and giving you rabies.

(not to mention; these assholes don't go after fanartists who are ABSOLUTELY making a profit off their work. but noooo, Flirty can't format a fic for print and allow other people to pay for the printing service and shipping, while never seeing a penny of that herself, despite all of the GODDAMN WORK I HAVE PUT INTO IT, WRITING IT IN THE FIRST PLACE INCLUDED FUCK YOU VERY MUCH. fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufucky--)

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: Teacher AUs!

I........ may have completely forgotten to post this for two days. In my defense, last week was about three separate nightmares, followed by attending a lovely but loud and long wedding and then driving home in a torrentially downpouring thunderstorm while my inebriated fiancee babbled adorable nonsense from the passenger seat.

Also my ADHD ass made it 8 months before this happened so we're gonna take that as a win.

ANYWAYS. Teachers. They have so much influence -- I've had teachers who inspired me and made me want to be better, and teachers who made me vow to never take that subject ever again from anyone. Teaching someone can be such a gift, such a sense of intimacy and vulnerabillity and trust, a unique bond.

And thus, I bring you ten teaching fics, from preschool to high school to university to diving to yoga and beyond. We've got 11k, we've got 111k, and plenty in between. Please enjoy, read, reblog, kudos, comment, and get ready for the next theme!

Breathe Me by Elsi-bee (25609, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis is a songwriter forced to take part in a meditation retreat, Harry is the coach.

Reccer says: It's a lovely story! Comfort fic! There's pinning, the relationship is sweet and very believable even though the fic isn't very long. There are feelings and emotion. I really loved it and highly recommend it!

Take My Breath Away by RealityBetterThanFiction (153658, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Top Gun AU

Reccer says: It's a remake of Top Gun en Larry, so it's ten thousand times better. Louis aka Rogue is something else. And Sparrow aka Harry is not to be outdone.

You Watched Me Sink by bananasandboots (38000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry and Louis are teachers at the same school and they're sort of casually dating except maybe neither of them is quite as casual about it as they mean to be but they refuse to talk about it until they do.

Reccer says: No matter how many times Harry and Louis tell Niall that they're dating, Niall is absolutely certain that they're not dating BUT THEY SHOULD BE. It's so fucking funny every time.

Hands Clasped Tight by afirethatcannotdie (44300, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry and Louis are teachers at the same school and all their students either think they're dating or want them to date. They're half-right: they've been married for three years.

Reccer says: It's just so sweet and cute and funny, they fit together so well and know each other so well but their relationship still feels vibrant and alive and hot and full of love

Hold My Breath by Zarah5 (19749, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Louis is a footballer, Harry is a yoga teacher

Reccer says: Why do I love this fic? It can be summed up in a few words: Zarah5, footie Louis. And Harry is the Harry I like: a little clumsy, sweet and kind.

Into the Blue by Zarah5 (117218, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Louis is Harry's diving teacher

Reccer says: I can't say it often enough: I love Zarah's writing. She makes every one of her stories a wonderful read, and Into the Blue confirms that rule. Pinning, a little angst. Perfection

An Unbalanced Force by kingsofeverything (110000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Harry's picture-perfect future starts to crumble, but something else is born out of the rubble.

Reccer says: Mature OT5 in a realistic world where things aren't perfect. Angst with a happy ending.

come as you are by Stylinsoncity (77438, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

louis is a professor of literature at oxford and harry is his newest and most eager protege. both are caught in a story about forbidden love, loss and second chances, in which one is on the brink of heartbreak and the other comes along when he's needed most.

Reccer says: This fic—the whole series actually—so brilliantly explores complex feelings, poor choices, falling in love, hating oneself…

All in the Golden Afternoon by Leighllbealright (126007, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

When Louis Tomlinson needed to find a new preschool for his daughter, he wasn't expecting the one across the street to be everything he and Goldie ever needed. Or: the one where Louis is closed off, Harry is the weirdest person ever, and Gemma may as well be a psychic.

Reccer says: This fic is possibly one of the best kid fics I’ve ever read! Goldie is a star in her own right. Harry’s reaction to meeting Louis for the first time is so delightfully weird and memorable.

The Section by Bananaheathen (11144, Mature, Harry Styles / Louis Tomlinson)

In which Louis is a TA for an Intro to Cinema course, and Harry is an undergrad with a bit of a crush. Or, the one with "Name: Harry Styles, Date: me please”

Reccer says: The “date: me please” makes me giggle every single time. I love the Zouis friendship and the lusting over the Likely Lads!

[unclewaynemunson]

Tadaaaa here is the sequel to this post, which came from an ask that got me in a chokehold for days now so kudos to the lovely anon who sent that prompt to me! You can also read the whole thing on ao3 :)

As soon as Eddie got into the passenger seat of his Wayne's truck, he saw the whole world go blurry. He tried to blink away his tears, but it was no use – nothing ever escaped his uncle's notice anyway.

'Wanna tell me what's wrong, boy?' he asked while he started the car.

Eddie grimaced. 'You know how they say you should never meet your heroes?'

'Hm?'

'Well, I met mine. On the fucking train. Just yet.'

Wayne shot him an incredulous glance.

'What was the Black Sabbath guy doin' on a train?'

'What? No, it wasn't... No.'

'The Hobbits guy?'

'Jesus Christ, Wayne, Tolkien died like fifteen years ago, keep up.'

'You want me to keep guessin' or you gonna tell me?'

Eddie rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, no, you wouldn't guess it right anyway. It's this poet.'

'Don't think I ever heard you talk 'bout poetry before,' Wayne remarked.

And that was exactly the thing. Ronan Right had been something... private. Something between Eddie and the faceless blob in his mind that embodied Right – and maybe Jeff. Okay, and Jeff's mom. But it wasn't someone he'd talk people's ears off about on any occasion he got, like he did with plenty of other musicians or writers that he'd get all obsessive about.

Until Steve, that was. Steve, who had been casually listening to his music. Steve, who had recognized the book in his hands and effortlessly opened the floodgates of his obsession. Steve, who had said the most beautiful things about Corroded Coffin without even knowing who Eddie was. Steve, who had talked with him about their shared passions for hours. Steve, who he now somehow had to merge with Right in his mind.

Steve, who seemed so perfect that it made all of Eddie's alarm bells go off at the loudest possible volume. Because this couldn't be real. This was something straight from a disgustingly sweet romcom scenario, and if there was anything Eddie could be certain about, it was that his life was no romcom.

So during the short walk from the station to Wayne's car, Eddie's head had already come up with a dozen scenarios that were completely spiraling out of control – even though they'd all make for great songs, no doubt about that. Steve would die some kind of tragic death on his way to their first date. Steve was secretly addicted to crack. Steve was a stalkerish fan who had lied to him about being Ronan Right to get close to him. Steve would cheat on him on their wedding day.

The list of possibilities was endless and terrifying – while the list of possibilities for this having a happy ending, on the other hand, was exceptionally short.

'Was it that bad?' asked Wayne while they headed out of the city.

Usually, Eddie enjoyed amping up his dramatics to a maximum around Wayne, providing the much-needed balance to his uncle's calm and steady demeanor. But right now, Eddie felt himself deflate in his seat. He couldn't bring himself to make a show out of it.

'No,' he said, quietly. 'He was perfect.'

And Wayne must've heard it in his voice, must've picked up right away that this wasn't Eddie being dramatic, that something serious was going on here, because he gave him this look that was cutting way too deep into his heart.

'Nobody can be that perfect, you know,' Eddie continued. 'It's impossible. And he – he gave me his number. And I just know that if I call it, and we get to know each other better, I'll get crushingly disappointed sooner rather than later. Because something has to be, like, disturbingly wrong with this guy.'

Anyone else than Wayne would probably tell Eddie that he was being ridiculous, that he should get over himself and call Steve; that he should allow himself to let good things happen to him or some shit. But Wayne wasn't just anyone. Wayne was the one person who knew exactly what Eddie meant. The one person who had seen from up-close the shitshow that Eddie's life had been, who had retained a front row seat through all of it. And he had had his own fair share of misery himself, Eddie knew that much. He was too old and had gotten punched down too many times to still hold naive illusions of the possibility of good things.

So he didn't give him some bullshit advice. He merely patted Eddie's knee and turned up the radio.

---

Ever since Eddie had left Hawkins, it had become a habit of him to stay with Wayne for a couple of weeks every now and then. For all his desires to get the hell out of that town when he was younger, he still spent way too much time at his uncle's trailer. But it wasn't Hawkins that he came back for, it was uncle Wayne.

It was home. And it helped him breathe whenever the city got too intense. Helped him get detached from everything that distracted him from the shit that actually mattered. Helped him get his head right when Chicago was threatening to make him lose it.

Time seemed to move differently in Hawkins than in the city. Slower. More naturally, too, somehow. Maybe it was because of the lack of nightlife and flashing neon signs when the world was supposed to be wrapped in darkness. The fact that he could still see the stars when he stepped out of the trailer at nighttime. Maybe it was the quiet, which allowed him to actually hear himself think. Or maybe it was the predictability of it all: Wayne waking him up with a cup of coffee in the morning, the two of them sharing cigarettes on the porch, Eddie helping Wayne with some chores and then trying to write new songs until well into the night, when the world was his and his alone.

He kept reading Right almost religiously, but it was different, now. Now that he could hear Steve's voice say those words, now that he could envision the way in which the sun shone on his hair through the dirty train window and the shape of his hands clutching a walkman that had Eddie's music in it. It was all different.

After a week, Eddie had a whole album worth of songs about the deception of things that seemed perfect. He hadn't been able to write even one song about things ending well, about things working out. That wasn't his life. Things never worked out. Why would they, for a boy born in a household where the trifecta of poverty, addiction and violence was all he had ever known? In the five albums he had produced so far, he'd never experienced a lack of demons to write about.

So no, he wouldn't be calling Steve, even though he had read the number that was written down on the sleeve of his own album so often that it'd probably be impossible to ever erase it from his mind again. He'd protect himself, this time. He'd cherish the hours he got to spend with Ronan Right, the memories that were already starting to feel like a fever dream, and not let his heart break any further. Not this time. Not again.

---

'Got mail for ya.'

An envelope landed in Eddie's lap.

'What's this?'

'I dunno, 's your mail,' Wayne answered.

Eddie didn't recognize the handwriting and the Indianapolis post stamp didn't give him much of a clue either. It didn't make sense that someone would send him a letter at his uncle's place.

He frowned, roughly tore open the envelope and pulled a single sheet of paper out of it. It was neither directed at nor signed by anyone, but that wasn't necessary for Eddie to know who sent it.

'What is it, boy?' Wayne asked, a worried edge to his voice upon hearing the choked sob that freed itself from Eddie's throat.

Eddie knew that the words were only meant for him. But he and Wayne were a unit, always had been, ever since Eddie moved into Forest Hills. So he wordlessly handed the paper to his uncle, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wayne assessed the text with a wrinkled forehead, holding the paper at an arm's-length in order to read it.

'That from the boy you met on the train?'

Eddie nodded.

When his uncle looked up from the letter, Eddie caught an almost unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was soft, hopeful. Optimistic.

'You know I ain't any good with words, like you, or this – this poet,' Wayne said. 'But this...' He pressed the letter back into Eddie's hand. 'This looks like he knows you, Ed. Like he sees you. For all that you are.'

He didn't tell Eddie what to do; that wasn't his style, never had been. But what he did say kept bouncing through Eddie's head unceasingly, making him unable to sleep, unable to write, unable to think about anything else.

---

Eddie desperately wanted to say something meaningful when Steve picked up the phone. He wanted to thank him for reaching out, to apologize for being too much of a coward to call earlier – but what came out of his mouth instead was, 'How did you know where to find me?'

'Eddie, is that you?' It sounded like Steve didn't quite believe it.

'Yeah – yeah, it's me,' was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth.

'Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped,' Steve told him. 'I just – I couldn't get you out of my head and it all felt so right, you know, like fate or some shit, so I just had to... I needed to try. And I knew your name, and that you were staying with your uncle, so I got help from some friends and they managed to find your uncle's address.'

And as if Eddie hadn't been enough of an emotional wreck over the past week, his vision got blurry with tears yet again.

'Sorry, was it – did I go too far?' Steve sounded nervous.

Eddie could perfectly envision the way he would be frowning and anxiously running a hand through his hair; as if they had already shared a whole lifetime of getting to know all about each other's mannerisms instead of a few stolen hours on a train.

He hated the idea of Steve thinking he had done something wrong when all he ever did was so fucking right, so he determinedly shook his head, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see that, and started scraping for words.

'No, Steve, you... You're perfect. And that scared the shit out of me, because so far, my life hasn't really done perfect. Most of our songs, they're – well – creative retellings of my own shit.' Now that he started talking, the words actually came a lot easier. 'They're all real, at the core, when you peel away the layers of, like, monster slaying and fantasy imagery. Like, everything underneath all that, it's all... me. Damage, betrayal, fear, violence – all that shit is true. Life hasn't been kind to me, Steve. And I was convinced that you'd only become an addition to that long list of crap, because you seemed way too perfect. I never thought I could have something good. And you're good, Steve, you're so fucking good. So I couldn't believe it.'

A long silence ensued at the other side of the line. Then, a sigh.

Then, 'Eddie,' in the softest voice possible, like his name was something breakable. Eddie didn't remember ever having heard his name said like that.

'I think that was exactly what I heard in your songs. Why I kept listening to them. Why they inspired me so much.'

Eddie tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, suffocated by the emotions bubbling up inside of him.

'I wish I could hold you, right now.'

Eddie's breath caught. He knew exactly what he needed to do: he needed to stop running. He needed to trust that Steve could be right, for him. That Steve could be something good.

'I mean, you could come over to Hawkins and do just that, you know,' he suggested.

'D'you want me to?'

He nodded, again forgetting that Steve couldn't see him.

'Yeah, I'd like that. Probably still got half that cookie somewhere in my pocket, y'know. Maybe we could share it.'

Credit where credit is due: the line “He sees you, for all that you are” isn't mine, it's one of my favorite quotes from Schitt's Creek and I really wanted Wayne to say that to Eddie about Steve, so here we have it <3

@ My beloved 🥐 anon: I hope you like this ending, and that I came close enough to your suggestion to have Steve make Eddie a character in his next poem <3

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