#or responsible over porsche?

[crystallinemoonlight]

you ever think about how chan was aware of the entire kittisawasd situation and just lived with that? man seemed so unbothered by the fact that korn shot his sister's husband, locked his sister in the attic, abandoned her children, and then employed her oldest son to be their bodyguard years later?? it's so wild to me, chan likely knew baby porsche, he knew nampheung, and now like 15 years later that same baby is on their front steps accepting a job as his trainee and chan just,,, goes along with it no problem?? does not say a thing?? I mean i dont expect him to blurt out secrets but i cant imagine how weird that must have been for him?

not to mention the fact he KNEW that porsche and kinn were "cousins"??? man KNEW they were semi-related (or fully related, for all he was told), and he just,,,, stood there. unbothered. whatever. not his business. man saw them making out knowing full well porsche's mom was in the attic and they were half-related and he never said a thing.

i wonder what other kind of messed up things this man has seen to become the king of being unbothered. it's almost impressive

[kissporsche]

anon, I am so sorry, I tried to publish this but tumblr ate the post AND the ask 🙃 so I hope you see this!

okay okay so. I tried to answer this ask so many times but I kept getting stuck because my brain wouldn't work unless it was part of An AU. so obviously I drafted in @lu-sn to help, assume anything good or fun or clever in this response was her doing

Here's what we got: post-canon, the outbreak starts slow. Infections are just freak accidents at first, but eventually there's so many it starts to cause panic. The compound is well protected and well-stocked with both resources and weapons, so they hide out for as long as they can, essentially locking down the place, but not before consolidating their assets: Vegas, Pete and Macau are brought in for their own protection.

Eventually, it becomes clear that the situation is only getting worse, and the only viable option is to get out of Bangkok while they still can. Korn, the pragmatic forward thinker, already has an Escape The City plan in place, which he triggers just as zombies are breaching the walls. He calls helicopters in to get everyone to safety, and during the chaos of the evacuation ends up killed. If anyone saw Namphueng push him into the horde, they don't mention it.

They're deposited somewhere far from the city, presumably a safehouse with a lot of land around it, and have to try and figure out how to survive not only the zombies, but living with each other for the foreseeable future. The priorities are self-sufficiency and protection, and not killing each other before the zombies do.

Kinn and Vegas make a surprisingly good team on the logistics side of things, Kinn has the loyalty of his men and a good head for large scale organisation, whereas Vegas has much more experience working on the ground level of business, making sure everything is running smoothly and efficiently. There's definitely a learning curve, and a lot of this survivalist stuff is very much out of their sphere of knowledge, so-

Porsche and Pete are invaluable when it comes to the day-to-day. Coming from lower income backgrounds, they have so much more to offer in terms of practical knowledge, how to make food stretch longer, mend clothes, get enough nutrients from limited supplies etc. We saw in episode 6 that Porsche has some legitimate survival skills, so I think those are essential things he can bring to the table and teach to others.

Basically everyone is a good shot and can play their part in protecting their little commune, but it's frequently Porsche, Pete and Kim who leave in search of resources, information and survivors. There's much less hierarchy between family and guards now, there can't be when everyone needs to work together to have a hope of survival, but Kinn is still the de facto leader and Vegas is still recovering from his injuries, so these three end up as the primary scout team.

Kim needs to learn to rely on other people most of all. At the beginning he would disappear for days at a time, take too many risks, and although his kill count was ten times anyone else's he would come back to a hysterical Tankhun, disappointed Kinn and quiet, withdrawn Chay. After that he stopped going out alone.

Lu came up with the galaxy brain take that Tankhun might cope surprisingly well with the apocalypse, the violence of mindless creatures being much easier to conceive of than the deliberate, cruel violence of humans. It's freeing, in a way, to know there's no malice behind the ongoing threat. Despite being the least suited to this kind of life he takes Chay and Macau under his wing, and the levity he brings is as valuable as his perceptive wisdom.

Okay uh this got away from me a bit and has sort of become a fic premise/outline but I hope it still answered your question?!

[odinsblog]

“One weird, silver lining positive from the WGA's strike has been a sense of calm over a reality that has plagued me with anxiety for years — the fact that despite having a great agent, manager, and lawyer, despite having been in hundreds of rooms with top execs and producers, despite having pitched countless networks, and despite having sold multiple pilots and pitches, I still work in food and bev. For so long, it felt like such an embarrassment in so many ways because it felt like I was the only one who was biding time in between sales with a side hustle. When I would tell people at work that I wrote television, they'd look at me like I had ten heads, or like I was delusional. They couldn't IMAGINE someone who *actually* wrote television would also be asking them what temp they wanted their salmon.

But the reality is, TV money goes fast, especially when it's just a pilot sale. And if shit doesn't get picked up to series, that money only lasts for so long. Being responsible meant swallowing my pride and keeping a job that was more consistent and steady but also gave me the ability to take pitch meetings, to write on my down time, do rewrites, answer e-mails, and take notes calls.

And for so long I thought I was a minority in that regard. Like I had done something wrong to not be successful enough to rely solely on my career as a writer.

Yet the strike has pushed SO many stories to the forefront of writers doing the exact same thing I've done, GOOD writers, great writers, writers who shit I watch all the time, whose names I instantly recognize, whose reputations in this industry precede them. So when the studios leaked that the goal was to bleed writers dry, to make it so we lost our homes, I had to laugh. Writers like me will literally do anything to keep the dream of writing alive. It's in us. It never goes away, no matter how many steaks you server, how many martinis you mix, how many cold calls you make, how many Uber passengers you pick up, how many pizzas you have to deliver. We always always always find a way to make it to that next great hope of a pitch, a sale, a green light.

And that's how you know that the CEOs are so fucking out of touch with reality. With the industry. With the POINT of the industry the point for most (not all, but most) has never been to be filthy rich, or own a yacht, or even have a membership to SoHo house. It's been to make something we love. To see it come to life, and make other people happy, or sad, or angry, or scared. To take this story you have kicking around your head and turn it into some epic journey. To be part of the process of making worlds and characters come to life. To tell stories.

The CEO's point has been to make as much money as humanly possible. And so they think that's all there is motivating writers. it's not. It never has been. Just because those CEO's wouldn't wait tables or mix drinks or drive a Lyft in order to keep a dream going, doesn't mean the rest of us wouldn't. The CEO's don't have a dream, they have a lifestyle. And I promise you a dream is a much better motivator than a yacht or a Porsche.

Try to bleed us dry, guys. Just because you'd let your own dream bleed to death, doesn't mean we would. We will always find a way to keep it alive.”

—Stefanie Williams, a tv writer on strike

[rafecameronssl4t]

How about Pope/JJ having a crush on Topper’s younger sister which is also Rafe’s girl and him making sure he knows his place and the fact that she’s his girl. Maybe she’s the island sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone, and sometimes she hangs out with the pogues (despite her brother and boyfriend hating that) and Rafe noticed how the boy looks at her and decides to put on a little show to prove she’s his girl 🫣🥹

Get in losers, we’re going shopping || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: This was so fun to write thank u for the request 🫶

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, possesive/jealous!rafe, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 1,837

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board

As you drive along, a smile creeps across your face when you notice JJ and Pope walking on the side of the road. You slow your car, matching their pace, which causes them to exchange puzzled glances before coming to a halt.

Rolling down your window, you lift your sunglasses, locking eyes with the two boys. Their confusion quickly shifts to recognition, and a mix of surprise and curiosity spreads across their faces.

“Hey boys,” you greet them with a smile. “Oh—hey, y/n,” Pope stammers, making you giggle. “This your new car?” JJ asks, patting the sleek Porsche. You hum in response, “want a ride?” you offer sweetly.

The boys exchange a quick glance before sprinting to the passenger side, shoving each other. In the end, Pope manages to snag the seat, and you laugh at their antics.

“I’ll sugar momma you guys today,” you wink at them, moving the stick into gear. They grin widely, and you drive off, the engine purring smoothly. “So, where are we—” Pope starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Rafe’s name flashes on the display, and the boys visibly tense up, their smiles fading as discomfort sets in.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. “Hi baby, whatcha doin’? Thought I might come over to yours in a few minutes, gotta see Top for something too” Rafe’s voice fills the car, a smooth and confident drawl.

“I’m out right now, and I won’t be home for a bit,” you reply, tapping your finger against the steering wheel. The boys sit in tense silence, trying to act nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. The cheerful energy from earlier is all but gone, replaced by a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

It’s silent on the other end before Rafe speaks up again. “Right, where—where are you right now? You with anyone?” he stutters, his tone shifting to one of suspicion. Pope’s eyes widen, and he freaks out. “I don’t think we should be here right now,” he mutters under his breath. Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, dude!” JJ whisper-yells, trying to keep his voice low. You throw JJ a look that clearly says he isn’t helping.

Hearing the voices, Rafe stands up from his seat, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who was that?” he questions sharply. You glance at the boys, feeling the weight of the situation.“Uh, I’m just with Pope and JJ,” you quietly admit, bracing yourself for Rafe’s reaction.

There’s a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear Rafe’s jaw clench. You know how your boyfriend feels about you hanging out with them, and the tension in the car thickens as you wait for his response.

“Are you serious right now? How many times have I told you I don’t want you hangin’ around with them?” He angrily says. You roll your eyes, already feeling the annoyance building. “Rafe, I’m not having this conversation with you right now, okay?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“No. We’re having this conversation right now. Does Topper even know you’re hanging out with those Pogues?” Rafe snaps back, his tone leaving no room for argument. You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Pope and JJ, who look increasingly uncomfortable.

“Rafe, not right now. I’m hanging up, okay? Hanging up right now—” you begin, but Rafe interjects, “Don’t you dare—”Before he can finish his sentence, you press end call. The car falls into an uneasy silence as Pope and JJ sit there quietly, processing what just happened.

“Uhm, so that just happened,” Pope says, staring out at the road in front of him as you chuckle. “I’m so sorry you guys had to hear that,” You apologetically say, biting your bottom lip anxiously, “Nah, don’t even worry about it,” JJ reassures you as you smile at him through the rearview mirror. “Do you guys wanna get some gelato? I’m craving some right now,” You offer as you turn into the main road of Kildare.

~

Opening the door to your house, you pause for a moment as your eyes fall on Topper and Rafe lounging on the sofa. Topper is scrolling through his phone, barely glancing up at your entrance, while Rafe reclines with a smug look on his face.

“Where have you been?” Topper asks, his gaze still fixed on his phone. You hesitate, glancing at Rafe, whose smirk only deepens. “Uh, did Rafe not tell you?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion since you for sure thought that he would tell your brother who shared the same disdain towards JJ and Pope.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Tell him what?” he says innocently, leaning back further into the cushions. “Oh, nothing. I was just hanging out with my friends,” You say as you slip off your sandals, Topper giving you and Rafe a suspicious look.

“Yeah, okay. How’s your new car, by the way? Have you scratched it yet? Cause if you did, you know Mom and Dad will throw a fit,” Topper says casually, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. You roll your eyes, feeling the familiar sting of his passive-aggressiveness. Without responding, you turn to leave the room.

Rafe gets up from the sofa and follows behind you, his expression unreadable. “How does my little sister end up with a Porsche for her first car anyway? It’s fuckin’ unfair,” Topper’s voice jeered from the adjacent room, his tone laced with mockery. “Shut up, Topper!” you retorted, frustration seeping into your voice as Rafe let out a soft, amused snort.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” you ask Rafe who shuts your door behind him as you set your shopping bags down on the ground. “Can I not see my girlfriend?” he says with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he lounges comfortably on your bed.

You pause, studying his expression for any hint of underlying motive. “I just thought you wouldn’t wait for me after I told you who I was hanging out with,” you say cautiously, carefully avoiding mentioning JJ or Pope by name.

Rafe’s response is nonchalant, almost dismissive. He simply shrugs, as if your concerns are of little importance to him. “Don’t care,” he replies coolly, his tone betraying no trace of emotion. You lean against your window, raising an eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Really?” you say, not quite believing him.

He hums, his expression unchanged. “Yeah, really.” You slowly nod, still feeling a bit skeptical. “You coming to the party tonight, right?” Rafe speaks up, breaking the tension as you throw your new clothes into your hamper. “I didn’t even know there was a party tonight, but sure,” you shrug, before collapsing on top of Rafe, who exaggerates a loud groan in response, playfully protesting your weight.

~

Getting out of the car, you could already feel the curious stares people were giving your way as Topper and Rafe walked up behind you. The beach was buzzing with activity, and you took in the scene, noting the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Scanning the crowd, you quickly spot JJ and Pope hanging out with a few others near the bonfire. They notice you and wave enthusiastically. A smile spreads across your face as you lift your hand, ready to wave back, but before you can, Rafe grabs your hand firmly.

“C’mon, let’s get some drinks,” he mutters against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. His tone is casual, but the grip on your hand leaves little room for argument. You glance back at JJ and Pope, who are now watching the interaction closely, their expressions shifting to concern.

Reluctantly, you let Rafe guide you towards the makeshift bar set up on the sand. Topper falls into step beside you, his presence adding to the tension. “Here,” Rafe passes you a drink as you gratefully take it.

“What are you looking at?” you ask, staring at Rafe’s side profile. He turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulls you closer. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he mutters, his tone trying to sound reassuring but tinged with irritation.

Following his earlier line of sight, you glance over and spot JJ and Pope. They’re laughing with a group of friends, seemingly unaware of Rafe’s intense gaze moments ago. Your stomach tightens as you realize he’s been watching them.

Rafe’s grip on you tightens ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature. You look back at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression is a mask of casual indifference. The contrast between his actions and his words leaves you feeling uneasy,

“Let’s go,” Rafe suddenly stands up, grabbing your hand abruptly, “What?” As soon as Rafe is standing up with you following along, you hear the whistles and low muttering of people. “Everyone shut the hell up!” Topper groans, watching his little sister and bestfriend walk off.

“Rafe, where are we going?” you ask, glancing back at the crowd, feeling the weight of their stares and the palpable tension in the air. “Shh, it’s fine, we’re just going back to your car,” Rafe says, pulling you closer. He leans in to kiss you, and you feel his smirk against your lips. His hands begin to wander, moving further down your back, his touch both familiar and possessive.

“Rafe,” you pull back slightly, your voice tinged with concern. “It’s fine, yeah? Please?” He looks at you with a familiar intensity, his eyes pleading yet commanding. It’s a look you know all too well, one that mixes affection with an undercurrent of control.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you unlock the car and gently push him before settling down on his lap. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close with an almost possessive firmness. You can feel the strength in his grip, the way he presses you against him, as if asserting his claim over you.

“You’re mine, y’know that, right?” he mutters against your neck, his breath warm and slightly ragged. “Mhm, I know that,” you mumble, your hands running through his hair. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing you even closer. His scent, a mix of cologne and the salty sea air, envelops you, creating an intoxicating mix of comfort and confinement.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing him better access to your neck as he continues to murmur possessive reassurances.

~

“Y/n?” You lift your head just as you finish zipping up your shorts. “Hey—” The greeting dies on your lips when you find yourself face to face with JJ. “What are you doing here?” you ask, awkwardly chuckling and smoothing down your hair. The sound of Rafe exiting the car behind you adds to the tension.

JJ’s eyes trace your appearance before flicking behind you to Rafe. “We were just about to, uh, leave,” he says, scratching his head. You nod awkwardly. “Hey, Y/n,” Pope greets as he joins the scene, sensing the uncomfortable vibe. You manage a smile at him. “Hi—” you start, but your words falter as Rafe steps up beside you, still buttoning his shirt. JJ and Pope stand there awkwardly, waiting, while Rafe ignores their presence.

“Did you guys have fun?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood. Rafe finally looks up, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at the boys. “Yeah, yeah, it was fun, I guess,” Pope replies hesitantly. JJ’s pained smile shifts between you and Rafe. “You guys sure did, huh?”

Rafe snorts at JJ’s comment, prompting you to slap his chest lightly. There was awkward silence before you speak up, “Did you guys want a lift back?” you offer.

Before they can respond, Rafe interjects, “Baby, you’ve had a few drinks already. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”JJ rolls his eyes at Rafe. “It’s fine, we’ll find our own way home,” Pope says, his smile tinged with sadness. You nod slowly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Rafe says dismissively, pulling you back towards the group. “Come on, babe.” You glance back at JJ and Pope one last time, mouthing a silent apology as they briefly wave goodbye. The expressions on their faces stay with you—a mix of disappointment and hurt that you can’t shake off.

[suncoved]

SALTWATER BLUES ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂ𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ

the prologue — rafe cameron

pairing; childhoodbestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: she left him. in that house. in that town. alone. and he's never gonna let her forget it.

series masterlist!

The sun shone through the passenger seat window of your dad's driver, Al's, pristine black Porsche, burning your ear and face while you sat there allowing the pain to simmer.

You made no effort to move as the perfect houses of Figure 8 blended together to make one as your head span with the constant turning of the car. You hummed quietly as Al seemed to be saying many words, none of which made any sense in your current state.

As soon as you got off the plane to the mainland, boarded the ferry to Kildare, and met Al at the dock, it all seemed like a fever dream. A saltwater haze glossed itself over your eyes and mind as if nothing made sense to you anymore.

It was like it was only yesterday that your mom decided she had enough of having the responsibility of taking care of her daughter and was going to ship you off to your dad who hadn't seen you since you were 13, because well it was.

It was only yesterday.

6 years. It had been 6 years since you had been to The Outerbanks. 6 years since you had been to your hometown. 6 years since a certain dirty blonde-haired boy had watched his word slip through his hands like grains of sand through his fingertips.

Rafe Cameron wasn't Rafe Cameron without you. He had simply never known life without you. He hadn't even remembered anything of his life before you, albeit it was less than a year, but he knew. He knew that without you, he was simply a shell of a human being, soulless almost.

Ever since that fateful day that thirteen-year-old rafe had slammed the door to Tannyhill and ran the 20 or so meters to your neighbouring house.

He knocked on the door with the sequence of the secret passcode you both made up when you were six, even though you would never tell him you forgot it the day you made it up. Rafe pulled his balled fist back as the white door opened suddenly like someone was waiting for him.

He didn't understand why your father was at the door, he knew Rafe would also come to your house at this time every day in summer to come play.

"She's not here Rafe" Sincerity was laced in your father's tone as he looked down at the confused boy. "Where is she? I don't understand."

"Gone, kid. I'm sorry."

You were snapped back into consciousness as you heard the crunching of the gravel under the car, your father's home coming into full view in front of you. You knew you were about to draw blood from your bottom lip that you had been gnawing at ever since you arrived.

"Welcome home!"

You stood in the middle of your childhood home's doorframe, slightly jumping when your father popped out from the hallways that led to the lobby, enthusiastically yelling. You glanced around the foyer, bright words written on a banner etching 'Welcome Home!", with balloons and confetti scattered across the floor.

For a split second, you felt peace wash over you, though it was soon to be replaced by worry and anxiety.

"I missed you Bee" your father spoke, his arms engulfing your body as waves of memories were brought back from the childhood nickname. She was quick to hug back "I missed you too Dad" You couldn't help your mouth curling into a smile as you let go.

"Can I go up to my room and put my things away?" Your father waved his hand in reply, pointing towards the stairs before smiling and following Al out to the car to help with some of your stuff.

Being back in your room felt weird, though the balcony flashed in your eyes, an addition you had completely forgotten about. Dropping your bags in anticipation, you rushed to the glass doors, sliding them open. You had always loved the view of the outer banks, the glistening of the ocean and the sun that set upon the sky.

Your eyes locked on the large windows of the house in front of yours, a room that was far too familiar staring back at you. A messy bedroom was fully in your line of sight, the curtains not even slightly drawn.

Your eyes widened when you remembered who actually lived there, three boys walking into the space who you identified to be the trio that you had spent nearly all of your childhood with, Topper, Kelce and Rafe Cameron.

You quickly began to turn and walk back inside of your room, falling straight on your bed. Pulling one of your pillows to your face, you let out a loud groan into the fabric.

"Suck it up" you whispered to yourself, wiping away the salty tears that were now rolling down your face, as the memories flooded back.

You returned your gaze back to the balcony, standing up and walking over to the door. pausing for a moment, you contemplated whether or not it was worth it if Rafe saw you. You leaned your head against the door, sliding down the glass.

Though after everything, you were back in the obx, and there was nothing you could do about it. You just hoped you hadn't left too much damage on the teary-eyed dirty blonde you had left behind.

[captainfern]

Breed

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Breed” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary – you and price meet up off base. you fuck lol. • rating – 18+ [mdni] • wordcount – 4.6k • warnings – fem!reader, praise kink, breeding kink [i'm being so fr it's in bold], unprotected piv, oral [f!receiving], price is a whore for you <3, strong language

(let me know if i missed any warnings! ok hope you like <3)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You had been off base for all of four hours.

It was supposed to be a weekend away from your colleagues and the cutthroat environment of a military job. You planned on enjoying a peaceful couple of days with the company of excessive amounts of alcohol, a spa, and that one situationship you had been dealing with for the past year.

So now, before your holiday even begun, you were already regretting even leaving.

You sat in a quaint little bar: complete with all the bells and whistles to make it seem like a 1920’s speakeasy. The light was dim, settling the room in a golden ambiance, as people conversed with each other, nursing crystal tumblers of dark liquor or caressing the thin neck of martini glasses.

You reclined into the plush leather sofa beneath you, a glass of— as the familiar bartender described it— your usual in your hand. You swirled it around your glass, watching the liquid slosh against the sides as your “situationship” rambled on about something (you had stopped paying attention five minutes ago).

“I mean, he drove to work in a Porsche and I drove a Jaguar,” Max downed the rest of his beer. “I think we both know who has the superior taste in cars, don’t we?”

“Mhm…” you hummed, taking a sip of your drink.

Max had never been the most interesting person— hell, he was actually really fucking annoying. His only redeeming quality was that you could fuck him and not feel guilty about leaving the next morning. Convenience, really.

Max peered at you over the rim of his pint glass, cocking his head to the side as he placed it back onto the table. “Something on you mind?” He asked, sounding genuinely worried.

You looked up at him, slightly startled. “Oh, no, sorry. It’s just been a long day—”

“Okay, great, now can I finish my story?”

You blinked at him as he continued, rambling on with no real punchline to his story— he was just trying to make himself seem richer. At this point, you were cringing. Embarrassing.

After a while of putting up with… whatever the hell Max was even talking about, you excused yourself. You popped to the bathroom, drawing out the process of washing your hands by a good five minutes, before reluctantly exiting the bathroom.

You collided with a wall.

Well, it wasn’t a wall. The wall was a man.

The body you crashed into immediately steadied you: two strong arms wrapping around your upper body, pressing you gently to a taut abdomen. You gasped out as the wall, smelling strongly of bergamot orange and whiskey, settled your firmly on your feet and held you within arms reach. Large hands gripped your shoulders, completely enveloping them.

You screwed your eyes shut, waiting for a drunken insult of some kind. “Shit, I am so sorry—!”

“Sergeant?”

You looked up, locking eyes with your captain. Captain John Price, the man responsable for leading your taskforce.

“Captain? I… I am so sorry.” You rambled, taking a step out of his reach and fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt. “I wasn’t looking where I was going—”

He laughed, deep and melodic. “S’all right, love. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh, none of that crap,” he smiled, nudging you softly. “John’s fine. Or Price, if you really prefer it.”

You nodded, hiding a small smile. “Alright, Price.”

Price looked you up and down, taking in your attire and the way you had dolled yourself up. He let a small smile fall onto his lips as he leaned back against the standing-table he was situated at, elbow across it.

“Who’s got you dressed all nice, love?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was meant to be on a date, but it isn’t going well at all.”

His smile faded. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing major,” you said with a shrug. “Just an old… friend. He loves to talk about himself, and he hasn’t asked about what I’ve been up to since I got here.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Two hours.”

Price let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Sounds like a right arsehole, that one. Why don’t you just head on home?”

“I’d feel guilty—”

“You kill people for a living, sergeant,” Price quipped, grabbing his whiskey tumbler and raising it to his lips. “I doubt you’d feel guilty about leaving this tosser.”

You watched him take a sip of his drink, licking the liquor off his lips as he placed the tumbler back down. You sighed, realising that he was probably right, before squaring your shoulders and setting a determined look on your face. Price laughed at your expression.

“I’ll tell him I’m leaving.” You said.

Price chuckled, giving you a wink. “You go do that, love.”

You left Price and crossed the bar, to where Max was sitting on the couch, smiling at his phone. He was typing fast, and didn’t even look up when you cleared your throat to get his attention, now standing just a few feet from him.

“I’m leaving,” you said simply. “Thanks for… the company, I guess.”

Max looked up, shutting his phone off and shoving it into his pocket as he got to his feet. “Are we not gonna fuck?”

The words leaving his mouth sounded horrid, and you withheld a grimace at his desperate tone. You shook your head, “No, we’re not.”

He scoffed. “So this has been a complete waste of time, then?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded as he shoved past you and vanished out the door. He left you with the bill and, not only that, but he was your ride— and you heard the unmistakable sound of his Jaguar revving it’s engine and tearing off down the street.

You blinked, dumbfounded, at the door, trying not to let the stinging of embarrassed tears fall from behind your eyes. With a frustrated sigh, you were about to head to the bar and pay when Price stopped you, walking into your path.

“Come on, love. I’ll take you home.”

You shook your head adamantly. “Price, no, I’ve gotta pay—”

“I’ll put it on my tab,” he said simply. “Now, come on. I’ll take you home since that fuckwit wants to leave a lady stranded here.”

He ushered you gently out the door, a large, warm hand on your lower back. He didn’t let you protest: he just simply guided you out into the chilly night air. His body heat was warm against your back as he led you towards his car. His smell was intoxicating. You had the sudden urge to just whirl around and rub yourself all over him, collecting his scent like a cat.

Um, what the fuck— suddenly crossed your mind.

When you both reached his car, he opened the passenger door for you and allowed you to slide into the seat, before closing it and moving to the other side, clambering into the driver seat and slotting the key into the ignition, the car rumbling to life.

Once out onto the main road, he cast you a quick glance, both hands on the wheel, running his thumbs along the seam of the wheel’s curve. “We’re you staying?”

You gave him your address, and he raised a brow. “A penthouse suite, eh? We are clearly not being paid the same.”

You laughed, warm in his car. You smelt that same scent of bergamot citrus and whiskey floating through the car. It was tainted with cigar smoke and mint. You wanted to get the smell tattooed into your fucking brain.

The drive to your flat was comfortable. You talked with Price as though he was an old friend and not your boss. He seemed to enjoy your company, too: sparing subtly glances in your direction whenever you laughed, or whenever you got particularly excited when telling him a story. His eyes twinkled.

A few minutes later, Price had pulled up outside your building, killing the engine and hopping out of the car. You went to protest, but he moved and opened your door, beckoning you outside with a small wave of his hand.

“I’ll be walking you to your door, sergeant,” Price said, almost sternly. “I’m a man of my word. I said I’d take you home, so I will.”

Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you allowed him to gently lead you across the foyer and into the lift. You hit your floor level and as the doors closed, you suddenly became aware of how close you and Price were to one another. You could feel his body heat. You could feel the gentle brush of his chest against your back every time he breathed.

Maybe it was the small amount of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you suddenly felt hot. Like, underwear getting wet kinda hot. In the corner of the lift, you shifted your legs, pressing your thighs together as the lift travelled upwards.

No way you’re horny right now, you thought as the lift doors opened.

You were quick to depart, hurrying down the hall and reaching your door in record speed, fumbling to get the keys out of your purse. You felt Price sidle up behind you. When you finally got the door open, you pushed it and stepped into the doorway, flicking the light on before turning and looking up at Price.

“Thank you so much for bringing me home,” you said sincerely. “And I am genuinely sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You didn’t ruin my night. I’m always here if you need me, love.”

You bit your lip. The way he said that was way to hot for the way you were feeling right now. You could feel the flush creeping up your neck, and it seemed that Price took notice.

He cocked his head to the side, appraising you. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, reaching a hand out and placing it heavily on your arm. It was a solid form that was warm and strong and you had a sudden urge to just bite it.

What the fuck.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” You said. Liar.

Price raised a brow, looking at the way you squirmed under his gaze. Now, he wasn’t stupid by any means— he could read your body language like a book and it made a triumphant smile flicker across his face.

He shifted the hand on your arm and dragged it to your chin, gripping it carefully and lifting it, forcing you to look up at him.

“What do you want, love?”

You blinked at him.

He tutted. “Don’t get shy on me now, sergeant. Tell me what you want. What’s getting you all worked up, huh?” He stroked your jaw, your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You like the way I talk to you? You like when I call you love?”

You let out a quiet whimper, nodding. He smiled down at you, leaning in as though he was about to kiss you. But he stopped, mint and whiskey laced breath fanning across your face.

“Use your words when you speak to your captain.”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, pleased. “That’s a good girl.” And then pressed his mouth to yours. It was possessive— his tongue breached past your lips, plunging desperately into your mouth as you tried to keep up. You wound your arms around his broad shoulders, sliding fingers into his hair and gripping the strands. He groaned into your mouth, pushing you further into your flat without breaking the kiss.

He slammed the door shut and locked it blindly, opting to move you around and slam your body up against it. He cupped your jaw with one hand, shifting his other to run down your side, brushing over your hip and settling on your upper thigh. He squeezed it as he slid one leg between yours, jutting his knee upwards and pressing it against your clothed core.

You let out a strangled whimper, choking on the possessive nature of the kiss as Price pressed your body against his knee, using the hand at your hip to help you move against it. You stuttered on a moan, breaking the kiss to take some short breaths, the pressure on your core alleviating the building sensations.

“This what you want?” Price grinned against your jawline, placing kisses there. “You want me to make you feel good, love?”

You nodded desperately, moaning out a pathetic “yes, sir,” before he was whirling you around and guiding you deeper into your flat. He eventually found your bedroom, and pushed you onto the bed. Your back hit the silken sheets, and he wasted no time in following you; pressing his body to yours and immediately reattaching his mouth to yours hungrily.

As the two of you kissed, he gently began to pry your clothes from your body. He slipped your shirt off, making quick work in popping off your bra. He moved down, planting kisses along your chest and across the swell of your breasts. He then drew his tongue, hot, over your right nipple before taking it into his mouth. You moaned loudly, huskily, gripping at his hair as he sucked. He moved to your left one, and repeated the process until you were a whimpering, needy mess beneath him.

After a moment, he leaned back and admired the hickeys he had created over your soft skin, running calloused fingers over them.

“This okay, love?”

You nodded, reaching up and looping your fingers around his belt. “Yes, sir.” You whined, finally managing to undo the buckle on his belt.

But he stopped you, gently pushing your hands above your head before he dipped down and kissed you again. The way he licked into your mouth made you squirm, fingers flexing beneath his strong grip. He released your arms, running his hands along the bare skin and all the way past your shoulders, over your breasts and along your sides.

His eyes never left yours as he popped the button on your pants, pulling them down your legs and throwing them across the room. When the cool air of your room hit, you realised just how wet you were— favourite pair of underwear, soaked through. Your face lit up in embarrassment as you felt Price’s eyes drift down your body.

“S’all for me?” Price uttered, finger skimming the edge of your underwear. He hooked his finger beneath it and let it go with a snap against the plush fat of your thigh.

You felt hot all over when you mumbled out a “yeah.”

“Yeah?” He pulled your underwear down your legs, dragging his hands heavily along your skin alongside it. Like your pants, he flicked your underwear across the room. Then, his hands were on your thighs and in the blink of an eye, you were flipped over.

Price lay on his back, arms wrapped around your thighs. You straddled his chest, hands resting on his pecs. Your fingers brushed through his chest hair as he looked up at you, an expectant look on his face. Your stomach flipped.

“Price…” You whined.

“Sit on my face, love.”

You hesitantly shook your head. “I don’t want to hurt—”

“Come on, darling,” Price drawled, tugging you forward. “You won’t hurt me.”

You let out a stuttered sigh as your thighs rested either side of his head, and you slowly sank your aching cunt down onto his face. You huffed out a load moan when he licked a stripe up your folds, before plunging his tongue right into your dripping heat. You snatched at his head, pulling his hair as your hips shifted against him— his nose nudging your clit, his tongue drawing animalistic sounds from your mouth.

“Price—!”

“That’s a good girl,” Price uttered against your core. “Ride my face, love. Take what you need.” He had an iron grip on your thighs, helping you rock yourself against his mouth. “Such a pretty, wet cunt. Tastes so fucking good.”

You moaned at his words. Your captain speaking to you like that with his face drowning in your cunt. What the fuck—

“P-Price…” You breathed. “Gonna… gonna come.”

He moaned against your cunt— the vibrations making that coil in your stomach tighten. He squeezed your thighs, running his tongue up your folds and swirling it around your clit, repeating this action a few times.

You felt yourself drawing tight, a thin sheen of sweat gathering across your bare skin. “Price—”

“I know, darling, I know,” he said. “Come for me. Come in my mouth like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah, fuck, Price—!” You came with a moan of his name, gushing into his mouth as your hips stuttered against his face. You felt him groan beneath you, tongue working you through your orgasm.

After a long moment, Price re-surfaced— shifting you carefully onto your back and hovering over you. You smiled hazily at him, seeing his beard slick with you, shiny. He hummed, pressing his mouth to yours.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you, sergeant?” He said into your mouth.

You could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. You hummed a response, too busy stroking his facial hair, feeling your own arousal sticky on your fingers.

When Price pulled back, his lips were flushed and his dark eyes glassy. His eyes scanned your face.

“Price?” Your thumb stroked his cheekbone.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He grumbled, deep and low from his chest. “Gonna let me fill this pretty cunt?”

Your eyes widened momentarily as he shifted his gaze down your body. You arched off the bed when his hands went back to travelling down your sides. He sat back on his heels, spreading your legs as wide as they could go, warm hands on your inner thighs.

He stared at your dripping core, and you watched him harden even more in his pants.

“Such a pretty cunt, eh, darling?” Price ran two fingers along your folds, collecting a shiny mix of your arousal and his saliva. He brought his fingers to your mouth and shoved them roughly passed your lips. “Tastes fucking heavenly, too.”

You choked on his fingers, moaning. Wrapping your tongue around them, you noticed his pupils dilate even more as he watched you.

“Jesus…” He pulled his fingers out, then began tracing them along your core again. He watched his fingertips slip between your folds, and then watched the way you writhed in anticipation each time his fingers skimmed your aching hole.

“Fuck, just— Price, please—” You warbled, body hot. You could feel your arousal leaking out of you, pooling below your arse on the bedsheets.

Price laughed lowly, before sinking two fingers into your desperate cunt, right up to the knuckle. You keened, a high-pitched moan filtering between your lips at the intrusion. His digits were thick, dragging against your gummy walls, stretching you open with obscene squelching noises.

He cooed at you as he added a third finger. “Take it, darling. Such a good girl taking all three, aren’t you? This pretty cunt’s so good for me. Just for me.”

You moaned and wiggled against the bed as he pumped three fingers inside you. You felt full, satiated. Your slick was dripping down his hand, his wrist and sliding into the hairs along his forearms.

“Making such a mess, and I haven’t even given you my cock yet…” Price drawled as you fluttered around his fingers, hips bucking.

“Price, sir, need you to fuck me.”

He didn’t relent the movements of his fingers, and you felt your second orgasm building strongly within you. He tutted, clucking his tongue as he thrusted his fingers into you. “Want you to come on my fingers first. You can do that, can’t you, love? Come all over my fingers before you can come on my cock.”

You whined, forcing yourself to nod and nod and nod as your orgasm towered over you, looming like a shadow. “F-fuck, m’gonna—”

The words died on your tongue as your orgasm ripped through you, a blinding pressure released from your abdomen. A wet gush of arousal flooded beneath you, and you felt it. As you shook, legs trembling, chest heaving, you heard Price chuckling to himself as he retracted his dripping fingers.

“Such a messy girl,” he mused. “Look what you’ve done.”

You used your remaining strength to look down at where he was— his shirt splattered with your arousal, wet dripping onto his lap. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Price prevented you from shying away. He dragged himself up your body and placed kisses as he went— ending his exploration by settling a deep kiss to your mouth.

“You gonna let me fuck you now? You deserve it, don’t you? Been such a good girl for me, letting me eat that pretty cunt.”

Such lewd words coming from your captain’s mouth— a man of such impressive status and honourability— was slightly disconcerting. However, you couldn’t find into yourself to care, nor think about the HR nightmare the two of you were in the midst of causing.

All you were focussing on was ripping open your tear-lined eyes and watching as the captain— your captain— shed himself of his dress shirt and then his pants. When he pulled down his boxers, you literally tossed your head back and moaned, much to the amusement of Price— who chuckled lowly at you, gripping his cock at the base.

“Want it that bad, darling?” He mused, leaning forward to run the head of his cock up and down your glistening folds.

“Yes, fuck—!”

“Ask nicely,” Price placed a couple of soft kisses along the underside of your jaw. “Good girl’s ask nicely, don’t they?”

You whined out some pathetic excuse for a please, lifting your arms to thread your fingers into his hair as he hovered over you. His body was heavy against you: the weight of his cock firm against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

Price lined himself up with your dripping cunt, slowly pushing in. He released a low groan from the depths of his chest as his cock slid into your tight heat, your cunt fluttering around him. You joined him, breathing out panting moans as he sunk deeper and deeper.

With one final push, Price’s cockhead was nestled up against the plug of your womb, pulsing within you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily.

“You feel… Jesus Christ— you feel so good, love. So tight around me,” his voice had a whiny undertone. “Can I move, darling?”

You nodded, full. It’s like you could feel him in your chest.

With a deep grunt, Price dragged his cock all the way out until the wet tip of him rested at your entrance— before he pushed back in roughly. You jolted, moaning as he set a pace that you hadn’t at all been expecting. You felt the need to be stabilised, your hands groping across his shoulders, down his back, along his arms. Your hands travelled down his torso, feeling the rigid planes of muscle and wiry hair.

Price panted in your ear. “Such a— fuck— such a good girl. Being such a good girl for your captain, darling. Making me— hngh— making me so proud.”

Your stomach and cunt fluttered simultaneously at the praise, eliciting a moan from both you and Price. He was truly fucking you into your bed: the mattress creaking along with the bed frame; the cushioned headboard knocking gently against the wall. Somewhere across your apartment, your radio was playing— you’d left it on before you left for the evening— and Breed by Nirvana was playing. Fitting for the occasion, considering—

“Fuck, gonna come in this tight fucking cunt,” Price groaned. “Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna stuff you full ‘o me.”

You writhed beneath him, back arching off the bed and aching nipples brushing against his chest. You were getting close, judging by the way that familial coil was tightening in the depths of your belly. Tighter and tighter as he fucked his fat cock harder and harder into you, deeper and deeper against your cervix.

A thin sheen of sweat lay across your skin, glowing. Price didn’t care, clearly, as he peppered kisses across your chest, sucking bites onto the base of your neck as he rutted into you, hips slamming against yours. You felt one of his large, warm hands slide from your waist and across your pelvis, settling a finger on your sensitive clit.

You whined, and he shushed your gently. “Take it, darling, take it. I know you can… come on.”

Price rubbed tight circles against the bundle of nerves as he fucked you, hitting that same spot within you that had you seeing stars behind your eyelids and whimpering his name repeatedly.

It only took a couple of seconds for you to reach your peak.

“Price, m’gonna come,” you gasped, trembling and snapping your eyes open. “Please, sir—!”

He groaned, gruff and pleasure-strained. “That’s a good girl, darling. ‘Course you can come. Come all over my fucking cock and show me how much of a good girl you are for your captain.”

Yeah, that was it.

You came, for lack of better words, violently. You legs shook, knees trembling as you arched your back off the mattress. Your body pressed tight to Price’s, his cock angling deeper as he fucked you through your post-orgasmic haze. Your breaths came in pants, face flushed and clit throbbing.

Price meanwhile was nearing his peak as well. He was fucking you into your silken sheets like a scene out of some kind of porno— large hands gripping at your waist, your thighs; eyes travelling hungrily down your body to where his cock repeatedly entered your tight hole. His cock was completely slick with you, his pelvis and lower stomach splashed and glimmering with your arousal.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” Price groaned, eyelids fluttering for a moment. “Come so deep in this cunt you’ll feel me for weeks— ruin you for any other man, eh, love? That fuckwit from the bar has nothing on me.”

You didn’t even have the energy to moan like you really fucking wanted too. Everything he was saying was going straight to your aching cunt, and it was probably sending you to an early ovulation. You felt like you craved him.

Price suddenly grabbed your hand, bringing it downwards to where his cock slammed into you. He pushed your fingers around your hole so that you could feel where his fat cock entered you over and over again. You moaned at the feeling, just as Price knocked your hand aside and folded you in half— pressing your legs up against your chest. A mating press.

He was huffing now, drawing near his climax as another one built within you.

“One more time for me, love.” He said and Jesus Christ you didn’t need to be told again.

Another orgasm overtook you before you knew it was there: drowning you and leaving you gasping as you gushed around him, hands gripping the back of his neck for support. You sighed out his name, airy and exhausted, as his thrusts began to lose rhythm.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he uttered. “So good for me. Now ‘m gonna fill this cunt so good— shit— fucking breed you nice and full. Might take, eh, love? You’d love that wouldn’t you? Love being all nice and fat with my kid, and I’d fuck you whenever you wanted— hngh, Jesus— give this needy cunt my cock whenever you wanted.”

These words were coming out of your captain’s mouth… Soap is never going to believe you.

Price let out a low, almost whimper of a sound as he thrusted sloppily a couple more times. “Take it, darling, fuck. Take my come. Fucking take it like my good girl. So proud of you.”

He came with a shudder and a deep groan: warmth flooding your insides and splashing deep into your cervix— helpful thanks to the fact you could feel him in your guts.

The both of you breathed heavily in tandem until his cock softened inside you and he pulled out carefully. His come oozed out of your hole, and he shoved it back inside with two fingers.

Price cleared his throat. “I’m gonna have to do a lot of paperwork to get us out of whatever mess we’ve just put ourselves in.”

You sighed. “Let’s not talk about work when you’re knuckle deep in my pussy.”

Price stopped talking, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

[violent-darkness]

Use me

Billy Butcher x Joe Kessler x You

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, porn without plot, choking, degradation, spanking, whipping, dacryphilia, consensual infliction of pain, bdsm

Notes: I have nothing to say in my defense, your honor. I am clearly a disturbed person. Also, Kessler is kinda mean in this one.

Also, in the same series: Thoughts Little pet Use me pt.2 - the Aftercare

It was one of those endless work days. The tasks just kept on coming. Your eyes stung from all the gazing at the monitor and your neck was in desperate need of a massage – all stiffened up from the lack of movement. And on top of that, that bitch Janet from HR was stepping on your nerves the whole day – dumping you with stuff that wasn't your responsibility in the first place, all the while bragging about her latest boyfriend, who apparently drove a Porsche. You couldn’t wait for this day to be over, to return home, take a nice bath, and go to bed immediately after. But life had other plans. Life being a certain tall Brit called William Butcher.

You opened the door to your apartment, and were greeted by the sight of him sitting with a manspread in the armchair across the door, his signature devilish smile painted all over his face. He was wearing your favorite navy blue Hawaiian shirt, half unbuttoned. The light was dim, with only the soft decorative lamp casting intricate shadows across the room. Your face brightened up at the sight of Butcher, and you gave him a genuine smile, the special one that you were saving only for him.

But it quickly withered upon the sight of someone else sitting on the couch to his right. It took you a moment to recognize him. It was Joe Kessler, his handsome friend with the smug smile and the raspy voice. Butcher had introduced you to him a few weeks ago at a bar. He certainly made an impression on you with his assertive and charming persona. Your brow arched. They were both staring at you with flickers in their eyes, like they were up to something.

“Good evening, luv. How was your day?” Butcher’s gruff voice broke the silence in the room.

“It was okay, I guess. Busy,” you replied. You closed the door behind you and leaned on the wall, reluctant to get closer before getting a grip of the situation.

“Been a good girl, today?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Butcher’s brow furrowed, and a hint of irritation passed through his face.

Stupid mistake. But the presence of Joe Kessler distracted you. You knew what he wanted from you, what was expected.

“Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“You are wearing the thing I told ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show me.”

Your eyes immediately shot to Kessler, who was glancing at you with an amused, smug look, as if he was excited to see if you were up to the challenge.

“Go on, then. Do as I say and come closer,” Butcher demanded of you.

You had no choice but to obey. You were his, after all, and those were the rules. And you took pride in it. Being Butcher’s. You paused for a moment, took a deep breath to collect yourself, then made a few slow steps towards the middle of the room, letting your bag fall on the floor, with a loud thump that echoed across the quiet room. Slowly, with a dramatic gesture, you untied the belt of your trench coat, removed it, and let it fall on the ground. You were trying to prolong the moment as much as possible. Part of you felt awkward, but another deeper and darker one drew pleasure from the way both men were eyeing you up, eager for every little movement of yours.

The trench coat was followed by your high heels, first the right one—you lifted your foot slightly and leaned to take it off, then the left one - your hand slid slowly but confidently with a very delicate movement along the length of your thigh until it reached your calf and took it off. Last was your dress. You glanced away and took a deep breath, building up the courage. You reached with your hand and unzipped the back, then let the dress slip off on its own. Underneath it, you were wearing a black sheer and lacy body, which flattered your physique and left little to the imagination. The same one Butcher had bought for you and ordered you to wear that day.

Both men were eyeing you up from top to bottom, their lustful gazes making you feel uncomfortable, but also desired, and this was causing a flush in your cheeks and pulsations between your legs.

“Shit, Billy, you were right. She really is a sight for sore eyes,” Kessler snickered.

“Told ya, mate. And she tastes just as sweet.” They were shamelessly discussing you as if you weren’t even in the room. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, pinning your gaze on the ground, unable to overcome your shyness. The presence of Kessler, whom you barely knew, made you feel uneasy.

Butcher picked up on your nervousness. He got up from his chair and moved close to you, positioning himself between you and Kessler, shading you from him. He caught your chin with his fingers and lifted it so that you could look at him with your already teary eyes.

“You okay, luv? You still sure you want this? It was your idea, but we can call it off anytime…” He was carefully examining your eyes.

It was true. You wanted this. You suggested it like the obedient little slut you were. You immediately felt drawn to Kessler’s undeniable charm when you two met and when Butcher told you some of the crazy shit they were up to in their youth, it popped right out of your mouth. You fantasized about it for weeks after. You needed them both to blur the lines between pleasure and pain, to bring you almost to the point of utter obliteration, so that you could actually feel something raw, unspoiled, and fucking real for once. You wanted to forget about yourself for a brief moment. The heat between your legs was telling you that you wanted it. You wanted to serve them both the best way you could, to obey and make them happy.

“I’m okay,” you wiped your tears with your hand and nodded with a self-assured look.

“And you’ll use your safeword if it gets too intense for you?”

You nodded again.

“I need to hear ya say it. Your words, luv,” Butcher insisted.

“I’ll use my safeword if it gets too intense for me.”

“Good. Let’s play then,” he said, giving you a gentle smile and rubbing your cheek with his thumb, then returned to his seat. “On your knees. Crawl to the top drawer over there, take the collar and the crop and bring them back to me,” he barked his order, no trace of his previous softness left.

You knew what happened when you disobeyed him, so you went on your knees and started crawling under their watchful gazes. The harsh cold floor was hurting your knees, but you tried your best to ignore it. You reached the closet at the other end of the room, opened the top drawer, and took first the black leather collar and then the crop in your hands. The touch of the crop to your bare skin made you tremble. You knew very well what it was capable of.

You crawled back to Butcher, trying your best to ignore Kessler’s presence, and handed them to him. Then, you sat with your butt on your heels between his legs, giving him an obedient look and awaiting his next orders.

“Remove your lingerie.” 

Your heart rate picked up the pace, and a lump formed in your throat. You reached between your legs to unbutton it with your slightly trembling fingers, then slipped it off over your head. Butcher smirked as he put the collar around your neck with a swift and confident movement. He pulled you up to sit on his lap and started patting gentle kisses on your face—first across your jawline, then moving to your lips. He started off slow, just gentle brushes over them, which gradually made your tense body relax. You wanted more of him, you were eager, but each time you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away with a light chuckle. When he finally gave you a proper kiss, the sensation of his tongue in your mouth made you moan. His left hand moved to your breasts, gently caressing them, then trailed down between your legs to your already throbbing cunt. Butcher started with gentle taps on it, just barely touching it, then slowly building up the pressure, pairing it with kisses all over your neck. He knew your body so well that your orgasm was already embarrassingly close. But he had other plans for you. He stopped abruptly, making you frown.

“Kessler needs you too, doll. Go to him,” he encouraged you. Seeing your reluctance and how shy you were made Butcher’s cock twitch in his jeans.

“Come, darling. I won’t bite, I promise,” Kessler said, his patience running thin. He reached out to your throat, his fingers curling tightly around it, and pulled you into his lap. His grip was tight enough that you didn’t have a choice but to submit. He immediately gave you a long, intense, and breathtaking kiss, making you forget all your doubts. The sense of control he had over you, the mock in his eyes, his strong tattooed hands—all made you want him desperately, and you showed it with the pathetic, involuntary whimpers you let out. Just as you were melting into his kiss, he pulled back and gave you a very hard bite on the neck, one that would leave a bruise for days after, making you scream.

“I lied,” Kessler cackled. “I wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. I do. But first, I wanna hurt you so fuckin’ bad. Will you let me?” His raspy voice was like a drug to you. You were so far gone that you were willing to let him do anything to you at this point. He was rough, intense, explosive. But that was precisely why you felt so attracted to him. His unpredictability made your cunt throb. You shot a quick glance at Butcher, seeking his permission, and after you received it, you gave a slight nod to Kessler.

“Good girl,” he patted your cheek and then suddenly gave you a harsh slap, which made your head ring, your cheek sting, and your cunt drip. He pulled harshly on your hair with one hand until you arched back into his lap, while the other found its place between your legs. He stuck two fingers inside you abruptly, without warning or preparation whatsoever, making you gasp loudly, both from pleasure and pain.

“Jesus, Butcher, this poor thing is already so wet. A real slut, this one,” Kessler said, turning to Butcher while pumping his fingers into you. He wasn’t doing it for your pleasure; it was for him and him alone. He wanted to get a sense of you. He pulled his fingers away just as abruptly and held them up to your mouth, parting your lips and making you taste yourself.

“You have to be punished, little girl. For being such a slut,” he whispered in your ear while fucking your mouth with his fingers. You could feel his throbbing cock beneath you. Your heart started pumping against your chest. The adrenaline rush made you feel lightheaded. You instinctively felt his roughness, and you were afraid he might mess you up real bad. He tossed you around, positioning you on your stomach on the backrest of the sofa. Your butt was elevated in the air at a perfect angle.

He leaned close to your face and pulled you by your hair. “Ten smacks. And I intend to make you cry. You’ll count them for me.” He stood up and took the crop into his right hand. First, he started playing with you, gliding it across the skin on your back, until he reached your cunt and put a few taps over it, making you gasp and him chuckle.

“One.” The swing of the crop was swift and precise. The spank on your butt was hard, much harder than you anticipated. At first, you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop and make the pain go away, but soon a deeper, more primal urge took over—the need to submit, to serve, and obey.

“Two.” You were wondering how you’d manage to get to ten.

“Three.” You started squirming, which only earned you a slap on your face.

“Four.” From your position, you were able to observe Butcher, still in the armchair. His jeans were unbuttoned, and he was stroking his cock lazily. He was watching you with a gaze full of desire and a hint of pride. You were his girl, and you were taking your punishment so well.

“Five.” You decided that you were going to endure this for Billy. More than anything, you wanted to make him proud. Your skin was already a mix of dark purple, blue, and yellow. The stinging was transforming into a sharp pain with every hit. You tried to remain silent, but you simply couldn’t, and your involuntary screams filled the apartment space. Tears were streaming freely across your cheeks. But the adrenaline rush and the feeling of utter submission were unlike any other. You were an instrument for someone else’s pleasure. For their pleasure. The pain was almost unbearable, but it also brought heat and desire along with it. You tried to rub your thighs together to release some of the tension, which only made Kessler’s smacks even harsher.

“Six.” The pain made you forget all about your crappy day. It cleared your mind of all the noise. Only this moment existed: here and now. Nothing out of it was real. Pure consciousness.

***

“Ten,” you were quietly sobbing by now. Kessler stopped and patted your bruised butt with the crop, as if he wanted to squeeze every last ounce of pain out of you, then put it away. He started removing his clothes.

You glanced at Butcher, who was still enjoying the view and finally got up from his spot. “You are even more beautiful this way, luv,” he whispered in your ear. “Your butt all bruised and your face in tears.”

He leaned closer and slid his hand across your butt. His roughness over your bruised skin made you squirm. “Nah-ah, be a good girl now and stay in place,” he nudged. His fingers traced down to your clit and started playing with it. The sensation mingled together with the burning of your bruises. Slowly but surely, all your pain transformed into pleasure, and you started moaning softly. When the tip of Butcher’s cock started rubbing against your cunt but not yet entering, you arched your hips towards him, eager to feel him inside you.

“Please, sir,” you let out a pathetic whimper, which made him chuckle. You wanted him desperately and you were willing to do anything at this point. You were pleading and begging, almost ready to cry again as your cunt clenched painfully, longing to be stretched out. He was playing with you, enjoying the sight of you in this state. When he finally entered you with one strong and sudden thrust, it almost made you fall if it wasn’t for his strong hand around your waist. His movements were deep and intense but deliberate. He maintained a steady rhythm, which was hitting all the right spots. Waves of pleasure surged through your body like an electric current.

You opened your eyes for a moment and saw Kessler enjoying the view, pumping his hard cock. The sheer sight of it made you want it in your mouth. You reached to grab it. The slap on your cheek was instantaneous and left a red mark, causing your eyes to fill with tears once again.

“You don’t touch me unless I allow it, understood?” he sneered. You didn’t immediately answer, still coming up from the shock, so he pulled hard on your hair. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you barely managed to utter.

“Hey, Butcher, you are making your slut cock dumb,” Kessler snickered.

Butcher smirked, grabbed you by your throat with his massive hand, and pulled you towards him while still pounding you mercilessly from behind. “You like this, don’t you? Feeling me inside you?” he squeezed your throat. “My little slut.” The lack of air made you dizzy and euphoric. Butcher didn’t need an answer from you, not really. The intensity of your moans and the pathetic, needy way you whimpered his name was enough proof for him.

“Hey, Kessler, did you know that this one comes from having cock in her mouth?” Butcher scoffed and released your throat.

“Fuckin’ hell, I gotta test that, don’t I?” Kessler chuckled enthusiastically before pulling your hair and forcing his cock deep down your throat. The room filled with slurping sounds, interrupted by your occasional gagging and desperate gasps for air. He was fucking your mouth with a steady, controlled pace, matching Butcher’s. He pulled out just for a moment to rub his cock all over your face. The saliva and his precum combined with your already smudged mascara, making your face look like a complete mess.

“Let me see your tongue, sweetheart!” Kessler instructed, and you opened your mouth wide and pulled out your tongue as best as you could. He spat on it and then pushed his cock deep inside your throat once again. The way he was using your mouth made you feel like a tool for his satisfaction, and this, combined with Butcher’s cock deep inside you, hitting all the right spots, made you absolutely feral. Your orgasm was close, and they could tell. You barely managed to mutter “Billy!” before Kessler forced his cock all the way down your throat without letting you pull back despite your fierce gagging. He pinched your nose instead, and the suffocating, slightly panicking feeling was what moved you over the tip. Your whole body started trembling uncontrollably, waves of enormous pleasure took hold of you as you came hard.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Butcher murmured, the feeling of your cunt clenching and pulsating around his cock almost made him come as well.

Kessler’s cock was still in your mouth, and he let out a few loud grunting noises when he felt the vibrations in your throat caused by your pathetic attempts to scream and moan.

As soon as you recovered from your orgasm, Butcher grinned and announced, “It’s time for a switch!” then pulled out from you. Kessler sat on the couch and pulled you like a ragdoll on top of him. He grabbed his twitching cock and guided it inside your wet cunt.

“Fuck, baby, you are so tight. It feels so good,” he held you by your waist and started controlling your pace, thrusting deep inside you. Your clit was rubbing against his lower abdomen, and the pleasure once again started building up. Your bruised butt was smacking against his thighs, but you didn’t mind; you were entirely consumed by the pleasure he was giving you.

Butcher stood beside the couch and tilted your head toward him.

“Open your mouth for daddy, sweetheart,” he nudged with a slight pat on your cheek and a dirty look, which made you clench. You stuck out your tongue, impatient to feel him in your mouth. His cock was like a drug, so you were doing your best to serve him as best as possible, to accommodate his whole length. Every time you gagged or your throat spasmed, it made him let out a low growl. Meanwhile, Kessler was fucking you dumb, shoving deep inside you and stretching you to the brim.

The pressure started building up inside you. “Fuck, I’m gonna…” you whimpered.

“You gonna come again, luv?” Butcher started putting gentle kisses on your neck and face with a smug smile.

“Come for us, doll.” Kessler pulled out and positioned you on your back on the couch, spreading your legs. He started smacking your swollen, throbbing cunt repeatedly, all the while shoving his two fingers inside you. His movements were gentle at first, but with increasing harshness. The cocktail of pleasure and pain made you moan and squirm. Butcher placed his knee on your chest to hold you firmly in place and started caressing your nipples with one hand, while the other was placed firmly on your throat, applying pressure. You opened your eyes and saw them both above you, with their hard, throbbing cocks. You were completely exposed, used by them, a toy for their amusement. The next hard smack on your cunt from Kessler, combined with the growing pressure Butcher applied on your throat, making it hard to breathe, made you feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure. Your thighs started trembling uncontrollably alongside your pulsating cunt while you started babbling incomprehensible sounds. Your orgasm made you forget your entire existence. Butcher and Kessler were enjoying the sight of you losing it completely, savoring every detail of the scene before them and your uncontrollable shaking.

When the aftershocks calmed down, they started taking turns using your throat. You were a complete mess by now, too exhausted by the intense emotions you had gone through, so you just let them do whatever they wanted with you, chasing their own highs. Kessler was going feral from seeing you in this broken state. And yet you were still taking his cock so well, not even an ounce of resistance left in you. He came first with a loud groan, pumping his cum all over your face.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” Butcher guided your head in his direction. He was stroking his cock viciously, as you fluttered your tongue against his bobbing head. He came soon after in your mouth and all over your face.

You gave them both a content smile, barely able to keep your eyes open at this point and lazily used your fingers to pick up their cum from your face and then taste it. They both made you feel so dirty. Used.

Seconds passed. Or maybe minutes. Hours even. You couldn’t tell anymore. Time had stopped still, but at some point, you felt the strong, familiar hands of Butcher uncuffing your collar. He stroked your hair, then shot you a gentle kiss on the shoulder. He picked you up in a bridal carry, careful not to touch your bruised butt. “My little pet,” he whispered with a gentle voice, “Let me take care of ya.” He carried you to the bathroom, where Kessler was already preparing the bathtub for you.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 16.5 - Confessions and Cars 2

I thought I'd post this as a "I'm sorry" chapter lol and I felt like you readers needed some closure.

While writing this, I also realized that I do not know how to write a kiss (due to my non-existent love life)...so if someone has suggestions - I'd gladly take them :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

If Arthur thought that visiting you last November before you signed a Red Bull contract would somehow end up with you in his arms, he wouldn’t change anything. Back then, you had been his best friend. And, well, you were still his best friend, but he was hoping that soon (like tonight) you’d be more. 

The end credits of Cars 2 played on the tv in the dark room. Most of the drivers (including but not limited to Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Daniel, Pierre, Charles, and Max) – maybe all of the drivers, who had come to visit you after your release from the hospital, had all left by now. A completed Lego Porsche 9-11 sat on the little counter by the basic coffee machine. 

Now, it was just you, whose eyes were slowly drooping, and Arthur, who hadn’t been able to take his arms off of you since you got to the hospital in the first place.

Arthur, who had held you hand as the doctor put an IV in, because he knew your fear of needles. 

Arthur, who had extra hair ties on his wrist, because he knew you hated to have your hair on your neck right after races, no matter what. 

Arthur, who had called ahead to the front desk to specifically ask for a copy of Cars 2 be delivered to the room.

Arthur, who ubered your exact McDonalds order because you mentioned the craving once while you were still under some strong pain medication. 

Arthur, who was your best friend, but you honestly wanted to be some more. 

Your brain had been running a million miles since your car flipped into the barriers. 

“Are you ready to go to bed yet?” 

But his voice, was able to stop all thoughts. 

You only let out a sigh in response. Arthur didn’t want to rush you, so he just picked the remote up and started your comfort movie over again. 

Yet, you didn’t want to watch the entire thing over again. 

“I was scared.” 

Arthur immediately paused the movie, but kept his eyes in front. 

“I watched the sky cross the opening. And then it just, hurt.” 

His arms tightened around you. Yet, it wasn’t painful. 

“I blacked out for a while. And then when I woke up, all I heard,” you turned to look at the boy in your arms, “was you, calling for me.” 

Tears started forming in both yours and Arthur’s eyes. You shuffled a bit closer to him, getting even closer. 

Arthur took a deep breath. 

Hours before, he was ready to confess it all once you had gotten your first place trophy. He had it all planned out. But then, his world stopped the moment your back tyre clipped the first kerb and then you rolled. 

“Y/n,” he started. This time, his eyes met yours. The TV forgotten in the background. In this moment, Arthur was glad that everyone else had left. 

You waited with baited breath, urging him silently to continue. 

“Well, I had this big plan, for after your race. And now, sitting here, I just know one thing and one thing only.” 

You cocked your head in confusion. Yet, your heart was wanting him to speak the once sentence you’ve wanted to hear for forever. 

“I love you. And when you didn’t respond,” he took your hands in his, “I wanted to die. And I know that might sound extreme, but at that moment, I knew I didn’t want a life without you in it. I also know that we’ve only known each other for a little more than a year but…” 

You decided to interrupt him. “You’ve been my best friend for the majority of that year.” 

He nodded with you, heart a bit dejected since you hadn’t confessed right after. 

“I’ve never had a best friend, before you. And, I also couldn’t imagine a life without you. And Thur…” 

He didn’t let you finish. 

His lips met yours in a fervent kiss. You had to take a second to reel in your thoughts, but you kissed back. Because in this moment, you didn’t want anything to change. A large exhale left your nose. 

You were hungry for a race win. 

Arthur was hungry for your love. 

His hands moved from holding yours to gripping your sides. And well, in true Arthur fashion, he gripped a bit too hard as a hiss left your lips. 

His wide eyes looked right at your with concern. “I am so sorry.” 

And before he could start to ramble in broken French, you pecked his lips. Well, that shut him up. 

“It’s ok,” you whispered, trying to convince him. “And I love you too. Maybe a bit too much.” 

Arthur sighed in relief and pressed his forehead against yours. “You do not know how happy that makes me to hear.” His words were a bit jumbled and his accent was heavy, but you got the gist. 

“What now?” 

Maybe it was your fears and doubts, but if this changed things, you’d rather not continue. Because you’d rather be best friends than lose him. 

Arthur shut his eyes, smiles, and cocked his head. “I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend.” He gave you another sweet kiss, one that you reciprocated with a smile. 

“Well then,” another kiss, “ask me.” A smirk replaced the smile. 

Arthur leaned back and took your hands back into his and sat up straight. “Y/n?” 

You let out a giggle. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” 

You quickly pressed up against his face. Not in a kiss sense way. More like, you missed and just smashed your face against him. He tried to keep you upwards, but you pushed him down and fell on top of him. Another hiss left your lips, but a laugh covered it. You gently rested your head on his chest as your attention was back to the movie. 

“Yes. I will be your girlfriend Mr. Leclerc.”

Arthur just let you snuggle back into him as he played the movie for a second time. Just as Mater was about to be reunited with Lightning McQueen, a thought suddenly crossed your mind. 

“What are we going to tell Max?”   

April 9, 2024

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 through it all, nobody gets me like you do

liked by y/n.nation, f1_fanatic, olliebearman, and 59,294 others

b0x_b0x UM GOOD MORNING? NOT EVEN A HELLO?

maxiel_lover babe, wake up, y/n just did a soft launch

y/n_nation Arthur isn't in the likes...

y/nxarthur I fear this is the end of the friendship?? y/n-on_top why would it be the end... y/nxarthur who knows, Arthur always likes her stuff and comments. maybe he doesn't like the boyfriend

oscarpiastri rue, when was this?

mcLaren_fan even Oscar doesn't know? logansargeant get in line of who doesn't know

olliebearman mother?? pick up your phone please

maxverstappen1 what the kid said, pick the phone up

box_box_official and the plot thickens

change_ur_f-car y/n not picking up her phone and Arthur isn't in the likes, what is this silly season?????

Big Racer

It's Arthur Isn't it??

Little Racer

who snitched

Big Racer

Kid, he looks at you like you hung the sun It doesn't take much sleuthing to find out

Little Racer

Please don't tell It's so new And I don't want to risk it

Big Racer

My lips are sealed But I do have one question Do I need to give you the talk?

Little Racer

MAX!?

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

[tvgals]

Hey I don’t know if your taking requests at the moment but I was thinking about a somewhat emotional piece . I was thinking about connie x bestfriend y/n reunion where they haven’t seen each other since 10th grade. Like y/n was on her way to a family event that was hosted at her parents house and like everyone knew the whole surprise thing he wanted to do so she walks in seeing everyone recording so she look confused and then he walks up behind her holding flowers and a teddy bear. ( I’m so sorry this is long but no pressure )

IM GOING BACK TO 505!

you and connie haven’t seen each other in over four years, imagine your face of surprise when he comes to see you.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

you’d never felt the same as you did during tenth grade. you had a loyal bestfriend and a huge crush you still haven’t managed to get over. you sit up in your bed and rub your eyes, picking up your phone. you tap the screen to see new messages from your sister.

‘don’t forget abt that reunion td!!!’

‘momma says wear pink!’

you grin and take off your bonnet, letting your hair rest on the middle of your back. you get out of the bed and stretch, walking to the bathroom.

your train of thoughts ran about this morning, it seems as if you can’t get connie off of your mind these days. you already couldn’t let go of him, but it’s more than usual this month. you missed him an indescribable amount, wishing he’d text or call you. you’ve been thinking he’s more than likely forgotten about you, that he’s moved on and is living life freely. it hurt your heart to think about things like this, that he doesn’t care about you, but it was infact the opposite.

connie’s pov :

connie had a dopey grin on his face. a week or so ago, he’d gotten a dm from your sister on instagram, asking if he wanted to come and see you for the weekend. connie thought it was some joke, that he was being pranked, but once he saw all of the post’s including your beautiful face, he practically started kicking his feet. he texted back with an enthusiastic response, a smile on his face.

connie threw on a pair of dunks, a pair he bought a while ago because they reminded him of you, and headed out the door. he slid into his all black hellcat and made his way to your family home. your sister texted a few times, an even bigger smile making its way onto his face.

‘y/n is on her way now!!’

‘make sure you hide real good’

connie pulls up to your house and parks across the street. he looks over to his passenger seat and sighs before picking up the roses and chocolates, a teddy bear holding $200 in 20’s in front. he picks them up and gets out the car, walking to the side of your house where he’s sure he won’t be seen. five minutes or so went by before he saw your pink porsche pull into the driveway, you getting out dressed in a beautiful pink strapless two piece. connie smiles to himself.

you walk up the stairs to your house and when you open the door connie can hear the mumbles and laughs of your family members.

your pov:

you walk into the house to see everyone with their phones out, smiling and giggling.

“what are y’all recording for?” you giggle nervously. your sister comes up to you and tells you to close your eyes and turn around. you scrunch your face up in confusion but comply, turning around and squeezing g your eyes shut. connie got a text of ‘CMON!!’ from your sister and he walks up the stoop to your house, opening the door with a grin. “open your eyes!” you sister yells, laughing. you open your eyes to see connie holding all those thoughtful gifts for you.

“connie?” you laugh, a shocked look on your face. “hey, y/n.” he responds smiling. you throw yourself into a hug with connie. tears starting to roll down your face. “don’t cry, pretty girl.” connie says, hugging you back. you pull back from him and wipe your tears, looking at his hands. “is that for me?” you ask, looking back up at him. “of course.” he says, handing you your gifts.

“i thought you forgot about me..” you admit, looking at him. “of course not. i’ve been thinking about you for the past 4 years, pretty.” connie replies, hugging you once more.

“i missed you so much, connie.”

“i missed you more, y/n.”

i hope you enjoyed this… i’ll probably redo it but i felt the need to get it out.

[shiny-crocodile]

the best person i’ve ever met

lucy bronze x ona batlle

Summary:

lucy and ona origin story; semi-slow burn, semi-quick; multi chapters that will get a little smutty

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10

CHAPTER 1

Chapter Summary: the wedding

Notes: first time writing, feedback appreciated, enjoy ☺️

Lucy was so looking forward to this day, her best friend’s wedding was something they have been talking about since they were kids. She had thought that it may have been her walking down the aisle first given her 7 year relationship, but that had ended a few months ago and her full focus was on her best friend’s special day.

After a hectic first half of the season at her new club, Barcelona, it was also a much needed opportunity for her to let her hair down, hang out with friends she hasn’t seen for a while, marking the start of a fun-filled festive season.

But first she had to make it there on time!

Day 1s group chat

Lucy S: Girls, I don’t need the stress of knowing the details but please tell me you’ll be here in time!

Jordan: We will be there, Stan. I’m waiting for Luce in the pick up zone now.

Lucy S: YOU HAVEN’T PICKED HER UP YET? Oh god, I don’t want to know, I really don’t want to know. Please hurry!

Lucy B: Calma, we’ll be there in 20, get the champagne poured!! Can’t wait to see you! x

Lucy put her phone away as she made her way out of the airport, practically jogging over to Jordan in her black Porsche.

“Nice wheels!!” Lucy exclaimed as she chucked her bags in the boot. “How are you, my friend?” She asked, sliding into the car and embracing her friend over the console.

“Bloody stressed!” Jordan said, immediately starting the engine and racing off. “Not made better by you promising a 20 minute arrival time to a stressed bride when we are at least 30 minutes away.”

“I know you’ve always liked a challenge.”

They spent the rest of the drive with Lucy debriefing Jordan on the last few months as Jordan concentrated on nipping in and out of traffic. After giving up her plus 1 invite and preparing to turn up to an event as a single woman for the first time in 7 years, Lucy was fully expecting to be bombarded with questions throughout the day. So it was nice to get one out of the way on the drive.

Lucy was feeling good. She was in a great headspace. Of course it was strange, it had only been a few months since her breakup, but she was well over the hardest part and had even started going on dates.

“Well you know what they say,” Jordan started, “Gotta get under someone to get over someone.”

“Exactly,” Lucy agreed, knowing she would leave that part out of her answers when others asked her how she was doing later that day. She was having fun back in Barcelona, but they didn’t all need to know that.

/////

As they arrived at the venue, Lucy S’s brother was stood outside the side entrance, vape in hand.

“Oh god, you look even more stressed than Jordan,” Lucy pointed out as she jumped out the car and walked round to the boot.

“Hard not to be when I’m getting stuck with all the maid of honour duties while the actual maid of honour is 2 hours late to hair and make up,” Sam muttered between panicked puffs on his vape.

“Guessing they’ve not quite got to your hair and make up then”, Lucy joked.

“Funny.”

“Got it, I’ll save the jokes till after the ceremony. Which way are we going?”

Lucy didn’t hear his response as a stunning brunette in a bright blue suit and sky high heels caught her attention. She was strutting towards the front entrance with her arm linked with a player Lucy knew, Millie Turner. Lucy recognised the beautiful girl in blue as a player she had faced a few times for Man City and England, but had never really appreciated how good looking she actually was until right now. She’d taken the English player’s breath away.

Sam and Jordan scoffed as they looked at each other knowingly once they’d realised they no longer had Lucy’s attention. They hadn’t seen single Lucy in action for years but they definitely still recognised her.

“Well I guess my sister was right then,” Sam scoffed, breaking Lucy from her staring session.

“Huh?” Lucy said, confused.

Jordan grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along. “Come on Luce, you can drool later, let’s go see the bride!”

///

Two champagne flutes were shoved in their faces as they entered the hotel suite, Lucy blowing a kiss over to the other Lucy and the Staniforth family while being hurried into a chair with a team instantly getting started on her face and hair.

“Wow you look amazing,” the right back said as she saw her best friend approaching in the mirror’s reflection. Lucy S was wearing a gorgeous long laced white dress, with a deep V at the front, showing off her golden tan. Her best friend wasn’t wrong, she looked seriously amazing.

“I’m so happy you made it,” the bride said, kissing the side of her maid of honour’s head, trying to not mess up either of their make up.

Lucy smiled, full of such happiness for her oldest friend, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m so so proud of you.”

“Oh don’t start, I’m not allowed to start crying yet,” Lucy S said, playfully shoving her maid of honours shoulder, “but I’m really proud of you too.”

This had deeper meaning to the Lucys given their frequent long late night chats over the past year, filled with lots of tears and comforting as the right back was forced to come to terms with the realisation she had to end her 7 year relationship, and also come to terms with the end of it in itself. None of it had been easy, there was a lot of love there, even if it became non-romantic. It sent Lucy into some really dark places where she didn’t think there would be any light at the end of the tunnel. She dealt with most of it herself but when she didn’t it was often the other Lucy at the end of the phone.

They shared soft smiles and damp eyes thinking about how much things had improved since then.

“Lucy you will NEVER guess who Bronzey was drooling over outside”, Jordan interrupted while marching over. Both Lucy’s and probably also the make up artists were happy for her intrusion before mascara started running.

“Drooling?! Oh my gosh, who?”

“Begins with an O, greats you with an ‘Hola’,” Sam jumped in as Lucy B rolled her eyes and turned her focus away from the group and onto herself in the mirror as she picked up her champagne.

“Shut the fuck up!” Lucy S exclaimed, “Ona?!”

“Mhmmmmm,” Jordan hummed in confirmation.

Sam nodded eagerly while his sisters jaw hit the floor, “So your plan of wedding day matchmaking is already off to a great start!”

The right back spun her chair back around to face the group, cheeks a slightly deeper shade of red than they were 10 minutes ago. “What do you mean ‘matchmaking’?”

“Well now all the wedding planning is out the way I will need something else to occupy my time,” the bride said while topping up everyone’s glasses. “And no offence but I’m bloody bored of having single friends, me and the mrs need some double date candidates.”

Now it was Lucy B’s turn to gasp in shock. “Wow, well ok then. But maybe you let me chat to her first and see if we actually get on? You know me, all about the personality.”

Jordan laughed a little too loud at that.

“What?” Lucy asked, insulted.

Jordan whipped her phone out and swiped through instagram, “look at some of the insanely fit Spanish girls she’s been going on dates with”. She held up the phone to show the group a series of photos of ridiculously beautiful girls. “Right Luce, these were aaaaall about the personality, yeah?”

“Whatever” Lucy laughed back, her friend may have had a point.

“Well at least Ona is ticking the good looking and Spanish boxes then,” the bride and aspiring match maker said, excited that her plan was coming together. She had obviously known Lucy forever but she had got really close to Ona over the last year and just knew they would be perfect for each other .

Although some people had other ideas…

///

With the ceremony getting underway, Lucy was already a bit buzzed from the 2 glasses of champagne she had in the suite. That would probably explain the surge in confidence she felt when she caught the pretty Spaniard’s gazing at her during the vows. Lucy raised her eyebrows with a smirk at them being the only two in the room whose eyes weren’t on the brides.

You couldn’t blame Ona, Lucy looked incredible in her green silk suit, a white top underneath that showcased abs that looked as though they had been carved by gods. Ona blushed and turned her head quickly to face the brides, which didn’t go unnoticed by Lucy or the Man United players around her.

The Spanish girl had been counting down the days till this wedding. Falling in December, this marked the end of her first full year in England. After a difficult first 6 months of getting used to the language, weather and food, she really felt like she had settled in this year and was looking forward to celebrate love alongside her teammates.

Ona had never been to an English wedding before, she had expectations of what the level of drinking would be like but was excited to see how the English did wedding parties, how it compared to the Spanish dance filled ones.

The ceremony came to an end, the beautiful brides making their way out of the hall, confetti thrown all over them. Ona felt her hands clam up as she saw Lucy start to make her way over.

“Bronzey!!” Tooney shouted, pushing past Alessia to give Lucy a hug.

“You look so good,” Alessia complimented as it was her turn for a hug.

“So do you guys! Look at us all dressed up! Although I desperately need to switch out of these heals,” Lucy complained, pointing down to her shoes that were already giving her blisters after just 30 minutes in them.

“Have you met Oh-na?” Tooney asked, dragging the Spanish girl closer to her side.

“Only in football kits, unfortunately,” Ona said, Tooney quietly chucking at Ona’s unintentional flirting, getting a light shove from Alessia. “Nice to meet you properly.”

“You too! I feel like I know you with the girls at Barça always talking about you anyway,” Lucy said, paying no notice to the childish chuckles from Tooney, full attention on the enchanting eyes of the shorter brunette. “You planning on sticking with those heels all night?” Lucy asked, pointing down to Ona’s shoes that were about double the height of the ones she was complaining about.

“Annoyingly, yes,” Ona responded, “I stupidly forgot my dancing shoes.”

“I’m sure we will work something out,” Lucy said, “I think -“

“Um Hi Lucy,” Millie T interrupted, making Lucy aware of the fact that she had gotten distracted and stopped mid-way down the line, neglecting Millie.

“Millie, hey!” Lucy said enthusiastically, “how are you?”

The brunette noticed an uncharacteristic coldness in Millie as she pulled the blonde in for a hug.

“Yeah, good thank you,” Millie responded, turning to Ona and the rest of the group, “we should go through to our table now.”

Lucy wasn’t sure the reason for the dismissive behaviour but she could take a hint, “Cool I better go see if the brides need me, I’ll catch up with you all later,” she said to the group before her eyes stopped on the younger brunette, “it was lovely to meet you Ona.”

As Lucy made her way out of the hall, Ona’s eyes were glued to her. She would be lying if she said Lucy didn’t look insanely good today, well Ona had always found her good looking, but today the green suit and perky bum bouncing as she left the room were hard not to be transfixed by. The Spanish girl was especially impressed by the English girl’s ability to correctly pronounce her name, despite being introduced by Tooney who completely butchered it. She guessed she had her friends in Barcelona to thank for that.

///

The reception area was buzzing with laughter and chatter as the guests enjoyed their 3 course dinner, followed by speeches and a first dance that made most of the room emotional. Then it was time to dance and Lucy kept to her word, really letting her hair down - she had lost count of how many drinks she’d had by this point - shifting from champagne, to wine, to beer and now onto the vodka sodas.

No matter the occasion, if there was a dance floor, Lucy was on it and tonight was no different. She was switching between groups of old friends, work friends, Lucy S’s family. Her green eyes regularly caught on Ona’s brown ones for the first half an hour, until they didn’t anymore, although she was too distracted by the fun drunken times she was having dancing with Sam Staniforth to really think about it.

That was until she saw the rest of Man United girls back out on the dance floor again but Ona was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the room and saw the young brunette sitting on her own sipping her drink, smiling over at her teammates as she watched them enjoy themselves.

“You ok there?” Lucy said as she approached Ona, pulling out a chair and slumping down into it to give her legs a rest. “I thought the Spanish loved to dance!”

Ona looked around and sent a pained smile Lucy’s way. “We do!” she argued, “I’m ashamed to be letting my country down but my feet are in too much pain. All I can do is drink.”

“Ah yes the shoes! Well my feet could do with a rest as well, so all good if I join you for that drink?” Lucy asked, holding up her empty glass and smiling at Ona hopefully. Even countless drinks in, she still felt an unexplainable nervousness talking to her new acquaintance.

“Of course! I would love that, I want you to tell me all about Barcelona,” Ona said, “make me jealous”.

Lucy excitedly jumped up, “what are you drinking then? I’ll get us another.”

“Well seen as though we’re talking about Spain, shall we have some Sangria.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up, “Yes! We absolutely should. You rest those pretty feet, I’ll be right back”.

As Lucy walked away she cursed herself internally for the “pretty feet” comment that she didn’t mean to let spill out of her mouth, now Ona will think she’s got some kind of foot fetish.

Meanwhile all Ona was wondering was whether she was dreaming or if the real Lucy Bronze, the most attractive person at this wedding, was flirting and they were actually going to drink Sangria together.

Once Lucy returned with a big jug and two glasses, the girls talked and talked. It felt so natural, it was flirty but sweet and they were so focused on each other that they forgot where they were and lost all track of time. Then the music switched to reggaeton and Lucy had a sudden urge to dance with Ona but she needed to do something about those shoes and the floors were too sticky for the spaniard to ditch them completely.

“Jordan!” Lucy shouted over to another table, waving her friend over. “Do you have some trainers Ona could borrow? You’re probably closer to her size and she needs to get out of these heels to have a dance” Lucy said, lifting Ona’s leg off the ground to show Jordan the 6 inch heels in question.

“You want me to get her out of her heels?” Jordan teased, “just kidding! Ona, come with me, we will find you something.”

Ona scurried off behind Jordan, trying to keep up with a half limp while smiling back as she left Lucy at the table. She blushed slightly feeling the older brunette’s eyes following her out of the room.

As Lucy picked up her drink for another sip, she shuddered at the grating of the chair next to her as she was joined by someone.

“Oh hi Millie,” Lucy said, noticing the blonde girl was particularly drunk now.

“Lucy,” she said as she grabbed the jug of Sangria, pouring herself a glass without asking.

“Having fun?” Lucy asked, suddenly feeling very awkward. She hated small talk and Millie wouldn’t make this easy, but she couldn’t exactly just sit there in silence.

“Yeah, I love a wedding! Where’s Keira tonight?” Millie asked, avoiding eye contact.

Lucy had successfully navigated that question a couple of times tonight but this was a weird one as Millie would have definitely known they had broken up. “Somewhere in Spain, I’d imagine. Her family are going over there for Christmas.”

“Left her on babysitting duty then,” Millie said, more of statement than a question.

Lucy was starting to feel more uncomfortable now, she was confused as Millie was usually so warm with her, “I guess. You know we broke up though right?” She asked, knowing that Millie would have known, everyone knew, the footballer community isn’t massive and it was the biggest topic of gossip this year.

“Mm maybe I did hear about that? So now you’re going after Ona?”

Ah, Lucy thought, realising the coldness was potentially Ona related. “I wouldn’t say so,” Lucy defended herself, “we’re just chatting and have things in common because of Barcelona and mutual friends.”

“Planning on shitting where you eat then?”

“Pardon?” Lucy asked, knowing what the saying meant but unsure why it was being directed at her.

“Well she’s going to be your teammate next season so might be a good idea not to use her as a rebound.”

Lucy dismissed herself, muttering an excuse about needing the toilet but she just needed to get out of that situation. Something was clearly going on with Millie and Lucy wasn’t going to take it personally, but she couldn’t help but feel a little surprised by the revelation of Ona signing for Barça. They play in the same position and of course Lucy knew she wouldn’t be the first choice right back forever but it did sting a little at the thought she could be replaced so soon.

Ona came back, bouncing over to the table where she left Lucy with a new spring in her step as her feet were finally freed from those heels.

“Where’s Lucy gone?” She asked Millie as she got to the table with Lucy’s seat empty.

“Dunno,” Millie grumbled, “I mentioned something about her girlfriend and she left.”

“Ex-girlfriend” Jordan chimed in, before wandering off to look around for Lucy, managing to annoy Millie with her interjection.

Millie turned around to scan the room, “oh look, she’s over there chatting up that blonde at the bar.”

Ona felt like she’d been punched in the gut as she looked over and saw exactly that. Lucy was leaning over the bar, face way too close to the bartender who was unquestionably attractive. She looked like a model.

“Well let’s go dance then,” Ona said, shaking off the feeling of rejection. They had just been flirting, and Lucy probably thought it as just harmless. It hurt a little as Ona thought they were having a good time together and she fancied Lucy, but it was nothing she couldn’t dance away.

Millie followed her to the dance floor to rejoin the other football girls, Ona finally able to show off her moves. Although the person she wanted to show off to was no longer nearby.

Until she was.

“Hey dancing queen,” Ona heard, feeling a pair of soft lips graze her ear before spinning round to see Lucy’s face impossibly close to hers. Lucy stepped back, holding up a tray of shot glasses between them, “got you something!”

“Tequila!!!” Ona exclaimed, grabbing a glass, some salt and lime before moving back so Lucy could pass the tray round to the other girls.

She even held the tray out to Millie with a smile, before discarding the tray and heading back next to Ona to take the shots together.

“I thought you’d found someone else to talk to,” Ona said, tequila coursing through her as she drunkenly confessed, “it made me sad.”

Lucy put a hand out to hold Ona’s waist and bring her closer, again brushing the younger girl’s ear with her lips. “No way, I wasn’t going to miss our dance.”

She stepped back again and took Ona’s hand in hers, spinning her around, moving together and apart in sync with the music.

The older brunette had considered not coming back, but a quick toilet break brought her back to her senses. She wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stop her from having a good time tonight, she’d been too excited for this night for too long to sulk. Just had to make a quick pit stop to the bar for the shots before joining Ona.

///

As the night went on the two girls danced and danced. They would occasionally part to dance with friends but were soon drawn back into each other like magnets, then glued at the hip until they were amongst the last on the dance floor and it was the last song.

Ona wrapped her arms around Lucy’s neck, pulling her in as the older brunette felt the younger girls breath was over her. She slowly leaned down, moving her lips closer to Ona’s, searching each others eyes for any hesitation, wondering if this was really about to happen in front of all these people.

Lucy was taken out of her thoughts by Ona jumping back suddenly, hand covering her mouth as she spun round and sprinted towards the bathroom.

Lucy stood frozen in shock before she pulled herself together and rushed after her. As she entered the bathroom she saw Ona hunched over a toilet, throwing up everything they’d drunk together over the last few hours.

Lucy rushed to the younger girl’s side and pulled her hair back, taking a hair tie and clip out of her own styled her to secure Ona’s out of her face and away from the toilet bowl.

Lucy gently rubbed circles on Ona’s back while the vomiting continued. As she paused between vomits, Millie entered the room with a glass of water.

“I can take it from here,” Millie asserted.

Lucy started to stand up, before Ona’s tear filled eyes caught hers, longing her to stay. She couldn’t and wouldn’t leave her like this.

“Actually I think I’ll stay, but thanks for the water,” Lucy said, taking the water from Millie and placing it to Ona’s lips, full attention back onto the sickly Spaniard. “That’s it, small sips, you’re ok,” Lucy reassured.

Ona breathed heavily as she seemed to be done vomiting. Ignoring Millie behind them, she grabbed Lucy’s hand saying, “thank you for staying, I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing.”

Lucy laughed, one hand in Ona’s the other still stroking her back, “don’t worry! Happens to the best of us and I’m probably partly to blame. Let me drop you back to your room.”

“Oh no, you’re sweet but that would make me even more embarrassed to have you escort my drunk self back. I’ll ask one of the girls,” Ona said, using Lucy’s strong shoulder to push herself up to stand.

Lucy followed suit and got to her feet, following Ona over to the sinks, where Millie was no longer leaning, neither girl paying attention to her exit.

“Fair enough, I’ll leave you to it. Honestly nothing to be embarrassed about though,” Lucy said as both girls washed their hands.

“I won’t hug you because I’m a bit disgusting now. But I’ve had a really good night with you.”

Lucy didn’t care as she brought Ona in for a hug anyway, “me too,” she said against Ona’s neck, “maybe see you up for breakfast tomorrow, sweet dreams bonita.” She left a soft kiss on Ona’s cheek before backing away and leaving the bathroom.

Ona turned back to the mirror, not able to miss the red that had washed over her face. She cursed herself for not being able to control her drink, but on some sort of high from the cheek kiss.

She left the bathroom and walked back over to her friends, catching Lucy gazing over at her with a smile as she helped stack away the chairs in the corner of the room.

“You ok?” Millie asked, “shall I walk you back to your room?”

“That’s ok, Less’s room is near mine, she can do it.” Ona said. Usually she would just say yes to Millie for a simple life but she could tell something was up with her today. She had been acting off ever since Ona had mentioned that Barcelona had offered her a contract on the drive over, then the weird behaviour continued and seemed targeted towards Lucy. She couldn’t be bothered with it, she was too exhausted, so she hooked her arm into Less’s and marched them off down the corridor.

“Well you looked like you had a good night,” Jordan said, making Lucy jump while mid chair stack.

“Hah I really did,” Lucy agreed before trying to change the subject, “how was yours?”

Jordan picked up a chair to help her stack, “good as well. Although I reckon the highlight was watching a girl run away to throw up when it looked like you were about to kiss.”

Lucy laughed, tugging the chair out of Jordan’s hands before shoving her, “shut up.”

“Hope the wedding photographers caught that moment,” Jordan teased, digging out a pack of gum from her pocket as she held them up to Lucy. “Maybe you could do with one of these?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, leaving Jordan to go get more of the chairs from other tables, knowing full well that she was going to be teased about this for the rest of time.

Once she’d helped out as much as she could, Lucy headed up to her room, still on a high from the whole day, already excited for the next time she would get to see her new friend.

[angsthology]

“i am on work trip vacation” — or an alt title: what happens when a group of f1 drivers go on a getaway together

a houseboat sounds like a great idea! ...right?

a/n HELLAUR this was mostly inspired by that one mofy episode “lake life” which to me is very underrated i love that episode SO much. anyway here it is it kinda ended up not how i wanted it to be in the first place but oh well :)

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD

to be perfectly honest, no one really remembered whose idea it was for them to do this. theoretically, it did sound like a good idea until someone else had the amazing idea:

“what if we rented a houseboat… for all of us…”

the group blinked at the suggestion.

roo, who had been standing next to lando mumbled to him lowly, “are we that close?”

the question made the two turns to each other for eye contact, when their eyes met, lando shrugged.

their attentions were brought away when max spoke up from his seat.

“yeah, but who is paying?”

the group turned to look at each other before agreeing through eye contact and all turn to the dutch driver.

“what? why? this isn’t even my idea!”

“yeah, but…” the group turned to the first porsche driver, “you keep winning…”

he threw his hands in the air, “what?! what does that have to do with anything?”

“you make the most money…” lando answered for her, the words slowly forming in his mouth, “you bought a whole aircraft, a boat won’t hurt your wallet.”

in response, he got a look from the redbull driver.

the woman next to him walked forward, “how about this; you’ve ruled the land, the asphalt if you must; you’ve also had your reign in the air, isn’t it time for you to have something to dominate the seas…?” she carefully propositioned, eyes searching the unreadable dutch looking for any sort of answer.

until eventually, his eyes lit up looking her way, “you’re a genius!” he exclaimed.

“i know, thanks.” she smugly smiled at his reaction.

shortly after, the man speedily walked off somewhere else leaving her with the rest of the grid.

she huffed with a smile playing at her lips, “men are so easy.”

fast forward to where they are now; lando trying to figure out the concept of charles’ attempt at eggs, the latter suspected to be on some kind of edible (currently being silently investigated by george and alex), lance passed out on the couch in an interesting position with his blanket over his face to shield it from the sun, the rest out on deck or still asleep in their rooms.

just as lando did another poke of his… egg? roo walked down the steps from where all the rooms were, eyes still lidded with sleep, hands stretching with a yawn.

“mornin’.” she greeted, the rest present in the room strung along good mornings as such.

walking over to the smell of burning, she felt the ground tilt to the side, making her lose her balance following where the dip goes. the rest in the room too fully woke up at the tilt—a large horn following. lance, emerging from his blanket and sitting half up grumpily, lando quickly grabbing his plate of eggs to stop it from falling off the counter (though, he regretted doing so, he would much rather the eggs get eaten by the floor rather himself.)

the aston martin driver on the couch then snatched the walkie-talkie on the coffee table next to him and barked into it, “VERSTAPPEN!”

max, happily conducting in his captain’s deck, apologized through the walkie sheepishly, “ehe—sorry.”

from out on the deck, came the sound of the french, “honey, slow down, you are waking up the kids.” just as he put the walkie-talkie back on the table next to him, pierre heard the response coming from the same channel,

“gasly, i will throw you overboard.”

just as he grumbled that, the second haas driver stumbled down the stairs, face still a little sleepy (naturally).

“someone’s grumpy this morning.” he commented before taking a seat next to alex on the dining table behind the counter where lando hastily stared at a piece of his egg.

“fuck off.” he grumbled before covering his face with his blanket once more.

george, sat across of mick, stared at his co-worker still drifting off on the table, “‘horn wake you?”

“no, radio.” he mumbled.

the girl finally went back to walking over to the ferrari driver in the kitchen.

“what’s cookin’, mcqueen?” she greeted.

he looked back to her smiling then continuing his focus on the pan, “eggs!”

the woman looked towards the brit with a plate on the counter, raising her brows for confirmation. in response, he frowned with his eyes closed, shaking his head.

at that, she walked over to the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice, pouring it into a cup before walking over to where lando sat and hauled herself up into the stool.

“here goes nothing.” she heard the whisper from the side, looking over to see lando carefully putting the piece of egg in his mouth with his eyes closed.

she cringed when she heard a crunch coming from his bite.

“i think that was a shell…” he cried.

the girl beside him frowned and pat his back just as carlos walked down the stairs, behind him two large dogs followed.

she gasped at the sight, “good morning, babies,” she greeted sweetly, crouching down to pet the two dogs.

passing by, carlos smiled, “good morning, sweetheart.”

roo gave him a side-eye as he passed, snickering, she said, “sure.” her expression then turning to one of adoration when she pat her dogs once more.

her attention moved when charles greeted his teammate, “good morning, calos, how do you take your eggs?”

“like god made them,” he said before cracking an egg and pouring them straight into his mouth.

everyone turned to him in shock and disgust, roo herself shrieked at the sight.

“what the hell is wrong with you?!” she yelped in disgust.

charles, face straight, “oh, right, i forgot about that.”

from the dining table, george questioned, “you do that every day? i just do it when i have a nasty hangover…”

carlos looked at him and paused, nodding before answering, “yes.”

roo then laughed smugly into her glass.

“what are you laughin’ at sally?” asked the spaniard.

“i don’t get hangovers.” she bragged, hand reaching over to the bowl of fruit in front of her. her smug face dropped when she held the too-light banana, “what the fuck? are these fucking plastic?!”

charles then turn around and grimaced seeing the look on her face, “oh, yeah, forgot to tell you.” he the paused, contemplating on what he says next, “if you see a bite mark on the apple… no you don’t.”

george then intruded, “wait, wait. i want to go back to how you don’t get hangovers…”

“yeah—how does that even work?” alex asked next.

she shrugged, “well… how it works is that… i don’t drink. —besides champagne that is,” she added with a smile.

“wait what—”

she clapped her hands together, “conversation’s over, i’m going to take my kids for a walk—lando, stop trying to feed them your eggs they only eat things that are edible.”

the ‘cook’ turned around fully offended, “hey!”

“so…”

“please don’t try to make conversation. it’s bad enough you’re here.” again, it wasn’t like she was trying to be rude, but it often came out like that. —she really did hope lando didn’t take it like that.

he scoffed, “oh, come off it, you love me.” he said, while throwing a hand over her shoulder.

the four—lando, roo, bennie, and jet, that is—were currently wandering around the island their boat had docked to. so far on their walk there hasn’t been anything interesting in the island besides the occasional inhabitants of the island (ones that are only visible to the woman anyway).

suddenly, lando let go of her shoulder and went to check his pockets, “oh, right, that reminds me; these has been weighing my pants—”

her attention unmoving, she cut him off, “that or you need a belt.”

he rolled his eyes and continued, “whatever, can you hold this in your pocket.”

finally, that brought her out of her trance, “oh wait—”

she turned around to warn him but it was too late, lando had dropped the item in the pocket hole of her pants only to see it fall to the ground instead.

“wait what—” he grabbed the item off the floor and tried to put it back in her pocket, seeing if he had missed it before only to see it fall to the ground through it again. “what the hell?” without warning, lando put his hand in her pocket all the way through and low and behold; his hand had went through it and peaked out of the bottom of her pants.

he stared at her in confusion.

“yeah, i was going to tell you: my pockets have holes in them.”

“well, no shit, i can fit my entire hand through this—hell, i can even fit both.” he asserted almost going high-pitched. his eyes then changed, visibly remembering a detail she mentioned, “wait—pockets? as in both?”

she rolled her eyes, “yes, drama queen. now can you get your hand out of my pants, do you know how weird this looks?”

“oh, yeah, to who? the wind?” he stated sarcastically as he pulled his hand out of her pocket—if it can still be called that.

the girl was about to answer but her eyes caught something that made her eyes almost pop out of their socket. her hand immediately takes a hold of lando’s upper arm.

“ow!”

ignoring his complains, her eyes still trained on whatever it is she saw and started pulling on his arm.

the brit was still busy complaining on how hard her hand’s grip on his arm was to look up but he still managed to answer, “what?!”

“i think—i think we should uh—go back to shore, y’know, it’s almost lunch, they could be looking for us.”

“no it’s not, it’s only like—” he checks his watch, “—eleven am.” he continues to complain.

but when he couldn’t feel as much pain as before he looked up to see his friend already gone along with the two dogs. he threw his hands in the air, “wha— damn it, roo!”

when he made it back to the beach, she was nowhere to be found, instead he was met with the rottie instead, “oh, hey, bennie, where’s your mum, huh?” he crouched down to give the dog a scratch behind his ear, bennie barked in response.

he—the dog—then turned around and walked over to the side where a white and minty-green volleyball laid, piquing an interest from lando.

when he walked over and grabbed the ball, he heard a call from the other side of the beach.

“oi! you wanna join us for a game?” danny yelled with his hands cupped around his mouth.

without another thought, lando stood up and ran over to the group and joined them. surprisingly enough when he looked to his left, there his friend stood after ditching him in the woods.

he threw his hands in the air when he saw her, “here you are! what the hell was that earlier?”

opting for the easy way out, she replied, “saw something you can’t, you don’t want to know.”

lando—who she knew would steer clear of any further topics involving her abilities—accepted the answer quickly and went back to focusing on the upcoming game.

“so, what’s the game here?” asked the brit.

“it was gonna be two on two but since you’re here i guess, three it is. whose team do you want to be in?”

lando then mulled over his options, go with daniel and mick against roo and zhou or… the other way around. then he remembered just how strong the girl was—he got flashbacks from various sports he had played against her and ones he saw her play, he wasn’t risking it.

“i think i’m gonna stay here, what about you, though? you need one more player?”

the australian looked around until his eyes landed on the rottweiler, a grin made its way to his face, “bennie! c’mere boy!”

when the rottie obliged, roo’s jaw dropped in betrayal.

“first mick! now you too? betrayed by my own boys…”

the german shrugged.

after that, the game went on for a good few minutes. along the lines of those minutes the following had happened;

“what the hell, dan?!”

said man had done an overhand serve with the ball, accidentally aiming it straight where the woman was hitting her upper chest—luckily enough she had managed to save it. but, still, she was a little bit offended.

he couldn’t help but laugh at his own actions—which he swore he didn’t mean to do.

still laughing (all the while the game was still going on), he continues to apologize through it, “i am so sorry karen smith, i swear, it was an accident.”

after that little incident, the girl made it her number one mission to find the right timing for payback.

when she did, she gave it her all into passing that ball hitting it towards the australian’s lower region.

unfortunately for her and luckily for him, he dodged just in time letting it hit the sand instead—unfortunately giving her team a point.

daniel and mick’s eyes were still trained where the ball had landed, seeing how harshly it hit the ground—daniel looked at it more with relief than he’d like to admit.

he turned around from the ball to look at her with ‘offense’, “dude!” he threw his hands up.

without wasting another breath, she pointed at him threateningly, “you hit my boobs! —i target you.”

in return, daniel raised both his hands in surrender and walked backwards to grab the ball and resume the game.

an hour or two later the game finished with daniel and mick on the losing team, leaving the other three in a high.

after high fiving both her teammates, the girl embraced the two men in purpose of gloating, she made sure to say audibly, “so, how did it feel like scoring your first win, boys?” she asked the two, though her eyes stayed on the two opposing teammates.

zhou smiled happily, seemingly glad that he could just participate at all, “feels pretty good, i must say.”

although lando wasn’t quite impressed by her question, “man, shut the fuck up.” he said, slipping out of her embrace to make his way over to the dock with the other five following behind.

“that’s not fair, you play aggressive.” daniel complained half-jokingly.

she was taken aback, “no i wasn’t, are you sure?”

knowing her, he knew her words were genuine(ly confused).

he wrapped his hand and smiled down at her cheekily, muttering lowly, “you don’t know your own strength.”

when they arrived on the boat, the first thing she saw the moment she stepped on the last step up was pierre, still calmly perched on his sun lounger with only his sunglasses protecting him.

the girl stared at him with questioning eyes, “have you moved? like, at all?”

“non.”

she all but shrugged, leaving him to burn under the sun.

when she entered the kitchen slash dining room slash living room, she was greeted with the hypnotizing smell of the food that filled the table—well, what was left of the food.

just as she was walking around said table, she heard the tapping of paws against the wooden floor and before she knew it, she was tackled by the doberman happily greeting her.

“hey, sweetheart, where have you been?” she scratched the dog’s head happily accepting her affection then suddenly being approached by a smaller collie she weren’t too familiar with, “and you… brought a friend?” she carefully stretched her hand out to pet the mystery puppy, “and who do you belong to buddy?”

“mine, actually.” the blonde thai entered the room with a water bottle in his hand. “his name’s otter, or, otto.”

“awh,” she pouted at the information before looking down at the puppy once again, “i love you.” she unhesitatingly hugs the puppy who then wags his tail with even more energy.

alex was about to comment but she beat him to it, “hey, what happened to everyone?”

“uhh—i think esteban took lance out on a boat,”

“i didn’t know ocon was capable of that.”

“not every two-people getaway is in the purpose of murder.”

“sure, tell yourself that.”

“whatever; charles is terrorizing yuki somewhere and carlos went to the bait shop in the island with george.”

“bait shop? is that a bar? there’s a bar here?”

“no– just a normal bait shop… for… fishing… you do know?”

“yes.”

“oh, hey, that reminds me; i’ve been meaning to ask, why didn’t fernando agree to this, again? i would assume he would jump at the chance at the first mention of lake.”

the alpine driver was currently calmly lounging on his chair doing whatever it is people his age does when suddenly two of the younger drivers on the grid appeared behind him.

he paused whatever he was doing when he felt the presence of two demons giggling behind him, he turned around quickly with a flat expression.

“what do you two want?”

they only giggled when he look at them dead in the eyes, earning raised brows expectantly from him.

the man heard whispers of “you say it”, “no you say it” bounced back and forth from the two.

“just say it.” he ordered the moment they got on his last nerve. (well, they were already on his last nerve the moment they arrived but now it was in the negatives.)

the british of the two decided to be the one to start, “we just wondered why… how—”

“we were just wondering why you haven’t turned to dust under the sun.” she cut him off.

now giggling again, lando continued, “it’s just we’re worried, this lake trip is going to have a lot of sun exposure.”

“we still like you, nan.” she finished, both of them continuing their giggling spree.

“you know what, that’s it.” he stood up from his chair, no longer feeling the relaxing peace and quiet he did before, “just like that, i’m not going. you kids are driving me crazy and i need this break.”

their faces dropped at the sudden ‘outburst’, both of them scurrying behind him to beg and plead for his mercy.

“uhh—he already had other plans.” she paused, then looking over him, “and what are you doing here?”

“trying to find a frisbee for the three of us.”

she tilted her head in question.

“me, otto, and… jet.”

“oh. alright, go nuts.” she then stands up from the ground, popping her head out the window that goes out to the deck, “mick, lan, dan, zhou, any of you eaten anything yet?”

she got a chorus of no’s and not yet’s in response.

“i—you are seeing this, correct?”

“looking at the same thing as you are.”

after a good lunch break with the four men, they all had went their separate ways to spend the afternoon and after a lot of exploring, roo found her way back to the deck where the alphatauri driver is still lounging. though now he is fast asleep, —and sunburnt.

she didn’t say anything else opting for nodding her head and slowly moving to the sun lounger beside her—vision directly facing the burnt french.

seeing as she was no longer standing next to him, he crouched down, “what are you thinking about, cariño?”

she shrugged, “nothing… just going to relax here.”

safe to say he did not trust her answer, he squinted as he stood back up.

the spaniard crossed his arms, “can i trust you…”

at that, the woman looks up craning her neck, she then pulls down her sunglasses to bat her eyelashes at him with a sweet smile.

he couldn’t help but reciprocate her energy. with one last smile, he turned around, and by chance he was met with lance who were just passing by. he grabbed the aston martin driver and whispered warningly—all the ‘sweetness’ from his previous encounter dropped, “that is a smile of a con-woman. do not trust her, watch her.”

before lance could even react, carlos was already long gone.

something bad had happened. he left for ten good minutes and he already heard the french-accented sound of agony coming from the deck.

next thing he knew, he was already there with the rest of the drivers all crowded there too to witness what just happened—arriving just in time for the sound of splashing on the side of the boat could be heard.

roo was already there with her hands on the side of the boat, looking down at the man overboard.

all the drivers followed where she was and where her eyes were brightly looking at with a cackle, squished together to all stand along the boat railings to see the emerging alphatauri driver from under the waters.

the girl, still laughing her ass off was getting cursed out in french, even hearing her full name coming out of her mouth.

carlos immediately snapped his head towards her direction, “what did you do?!”

she was still far too busy laughing, leaving the frenchman to answer angrily for her, “espèce de connard!” he cursed at her, “she fucking slapped my sunburn!”

that statement itself had made lando spilt a single cackle, zhou and mick covering their mouth in self-control after imagining pierre’s words.

said man give the three a large glare that didn’t really change their state.

the spaniard then turned to lance with eyes wide, “i told you to watch her!”

“i’m not her babysitter!” he defended, “—lando is! i gave him a fifty-dollar bill to do it!” he continued his defense. (which quite frankly didn’t help him much.)

“so you gave a child a job to watch another child?!” carlos fumed.

“i— well you got me there.” the canadian shrugged and let go of it.

lando, hearing his name, quickly chimed in with offense lacing his tone, “hey! in my defense; i handed the job over to charles!”

everyone then turned to the resident monégasque. he threw his hands in defense, when he spoke his tone a lot less defense-y more reasoning, “what? i am on vacation, i’m not babysitting!”

of all this happening, they all failed to notice the angry frenchman emerging from the stairs—skin red and dripping with lake water.

his wet steps walked slowly towards the culprit—the war criminal in a diy ripped clothing, “count your days.” he threatened lowly, accent thicker than usual, before walking inside the houseboat funnily, body still aching from his ‘little’ predicament.

te1enoviyuh 🎵 Pitbull, Marc Anthony • Rain Over Me (feat. Marc Anthony)

liked by awstenknight, f1, and 6,835,736 others

tagged: carlossainz55

te1enoviyuh D.O.G. — drivers only getaway

two notes for this one:

pierregasly i am... sorry, truly

@ all of u, youve all behaved accordingly so i gift u this picture he took when my phone went missing apparently

see all 2,836 comments.

selvnika oh this gave me a whiplash actually

dunphyrrari selvnika ure so right for this queen

thesainzist HELLO

thesainzist GOOD MORNINGGG SAILOR

thesainzist i thank u for ur service u are a god 🙏🏼

pierregasly die

siriuslyricciardo pierregasly NAHH I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED ON THAT BOAT

backbiteroo pierregasly tea is BOILING

te1enoviyuh backbiteroo his skin actually

pierregasly te1enoviyuh PÉRIR

mclarenovia watch them be super cryptic about this whole getaway

sixteenparx awsten at the scene of the crime once again 📸

awstenknight sixteenparx CAN YOU JUST LET ME LIVE

sixteenparx awstenknight no

aepsainz YARG

aepsainz on behalf of chillination we thank you and owe you for your service we will never forget this 💪🏿

sebastianvettel Have fun!

liked by te1enoviyuh

taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra lemme know if u wanna be added &lt;3

[lovinpelova]

try it out | j. fleming

summary; if jessie likes your hobbies, you should like hers.

🎵 jackie and wilson - hozier

since you were a little kid you've loved lego, it's just common for children to adore it and want as much as possible until they reach a certain age and decide to throw it out instead of letting it grow dusty on their shelves. you were the opposite to other kids, keeping up with the so-called obsession and spending a fair amount of money on it, hating the idea of making new things yourself and opting to stay with the sets lego would release often. your favourite type of lego set to build was the cars, they were just so cute and didn't take up too much of your day, giving you something to focus on and use to calm down in your free time.

jessie loved your adoration of lego. she found it adorable how you'd get excited when you saw a new set you wanted and bought it almost immediately after a moment of contemplation about the price, the canadian knowing you'd always end up getting it anyways. she'd bought you a new lego set for christmas, a massive white porsche 911 that clearly wouldn't have been cheap due to the size, you complained about the inevitable price but she waved you off with the claim of your smile being worth much more when you saw it and thanked her.

now you were finally getting around to building it and would need help no matter how much you hated to admit it. the bigger sets always got the best of you and you'd either do it wrong or be unable to find a piece you needed, so jessie decided to help out. it was going well so far, sitting comfortably on the living room floor as she'd help you put pieces in place and hand you the odd one you were struggling to find, other than that she would sit and watch in awe as you concentrated more than she'd ever seen- even in training you'd never been this focused.

"since i'm helping you with your hobby, would you wanna try one of mine when we've finished this?"

you looked up momentarily to figure out what she meant before going back to pushing the lego pieces together, finally understanding jessie's question.

"as long as it's not hockey or photography, you know how i am with those two."

"don't worry babe, it's neither of them. i was thinking maybe you'd wanna try painting for the first time?"

jessie handed you a lego piece you were struggling to find for the next step, yourself smiling in thanks and leaning over to kiss her cheek softly as you took it out of her hand.

"yeah, why not? i am pretty bad at painting though, just to warn you."

"you're only bad at painting if you're not fully focused. you'll have me to help out too!"

after another couple hours of piecing together your new lego set you'd finally finished it, looking down in pride alongside jessie as you high-fived to celebrate finally being able to get rid of the hip cramp from how you were sat.

"okay, you go find a place for that whilst i get the stuff for painting yeah?"

"okay baby."

you smiled in response before setting off upstairs and finding your lego shelf, having to move a few things about before you could fit the massive model. looking at it in pride one last time, you set off downstairs to find jessie laying out paints and brushes alongside two canvases next to each other, the canadian opting to sit across from you rather than next to you so you wouldn't get paint on each other.

"oh this is gonna be fun!"

you stated excitedly as jessie grinned at your enthusiasm for her hobby, glad you share an aptitude in exploring each others interests. you sat down across from jessie and picked up a pencil like she did, noticing the small smile she wore once she realised you were copying her in fear of doing anything wrong.

"what are we painting then?"

your question sent jessie deep into thought for a moment as she looked around the room for ideas.

"oh! i've got it. how about we paint what we think the other would be if we were animals but don't tell each other? you know, like a guessing game."

"that's such a cute idea! i'm not sure how i'm gonna draw my animal though."

"just google a picture, you'll be fine baby."

you grabbed your phone and googled 'moose' to remember what they even look like, realising you'd gotten yourself into trouble choosing this animal but it was too late now. you stood your canvas up on the small easel jessie had brought over for you just like she did with her own, making sure she couldn't see when you drew the first couple lines and it immediately went wrong. deciding to commit and feeling it might get better as you draw more, you continued the outline of your moose and it gradually got better, it wasn't the best but it was certainly a lot easier to make out than when you first started a couple minutes ago.

once you'd finished with your outline you grew weary of the painting part, knowing you'd have to get it over and done with otherwise you'd be drawing instead. you grabbed the colours you needed and set them out on a small palette, getting to work on painting the moose and being surprised by how easy it was, deciding to even paint in the background as one that looks like the boreal forest in canada whenever it snowed. jessie was finishing up her painting by now and seemed very proud of it just the same as you, adding a couple finishing touches and putting down her paintbrush a couple minutes before yourself.

"you ready?"

she asked as you stood up in front of your canvases, nodding your head in response. eager to show your work and getting a nod from jessie once she saw your excitement, you turned around your easel and watched her jaw drop in amazement.

"oh my god, baby that's the most beautiful painting i've ever seen. and you think i'm a moose! god i love you so much, you're so good at this!"

"it's mediocre, jess- and of course i think you're a moose! they're all you ever talk about. i need to see what animal i am though, the suspense is killing me."

jessie snapped out of her amazement and grinned down at her painting for a moment before spinning the easel around, showing you a stunning painting of an elephant in the african outback, a beautiful sunset along the background.

"before you take it wrong, i chose an elephant because you're so gentle and caring. you know how nice they can be."

jessie shyly explained as you grinned in appreciation, admiring the painting for a couple more moments before stepping forwards and pulling her into a soft kiss.

"it's almost as beautiful as you jess."

"alright playboy, stop trying to flatter me just so you can get my art for free."

"oh i had to pay hm?"

you teased, jessie nodding her head in response as you smiled at each other and turned towards your paintings.

"of course, artwork like that doesn't come for free. i reckon around three hundred quid."

"i'm selling mine for that amount too, maybe we can swap and call it even?"

"good idea, i want your signature too though."

you quickly grabbed a pencil and signed your painting in a blank area, jessie doing the same with hers as you swapped paintings and shook each others hands.

"pleasure doing business with you."

"but of course."

the brunette laughed with you and leaned forward for a soft kiss, both of you pulling away not long after to clear up all the paints and brushes before looking around the house for a perfect spot. you eventually found one right above your shared bed, the moose being hung up above jessie's side and elephant hung up above yours, like a little inside joke.

[charles-leclerizz]

EPISODE 01 : Start your engine

🏁 EPISODE AGE RATING : U/A 16+ [contaings swearing]

🏁 GENRE : Drama, Action, Sports, Romance

🏁 WORD COUNT : 10 K [ 10 , 366 WORDS ]

🏁 MUSIC SUMMARY : THE GREATEST BY SIA, PUMPT IT - BLACK EYED PEAS

🏁 CREDIT [S] : "BEHIND THE SCENES" BANNER, NETFLIX PLAY BAR BY ME [@charles-leclerizz], TEXT DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune

🏁 TAGS : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon], OTHERS [@weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam, @inejghafawifesblog,d3kstar], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK !

DIRECTORS CUT : first episode children, better get soome snacks and a drink, and i highly reccomend looking at the masterlist, aisha's profile and the porsche f1 team links, since they will explain everything. It is also recommendeed you first read the trailer, which is once again found on the masterlist below.

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

The opening credits of the series begin to play, revealing bold block letters reading,

“Bahrain 2025”

And in the background, the black fades to reveal an aerial view of the landmark circuit, a staple of the history that defines Formula One. As the shot zooms in, we see the morning mist rolling over the grey, freshly re-laid tarmac of the track leading up to the garages of each of the 10 teams, most of them shutdown and blocked away from prying eyes. Though, as the camera moves forward, the view widens and we can see at the very end of the line, the Porsche garage emitting a yellow glow.

The acrylic entrance leaks hues of gold whilst we finally approach the opening where we see Aisha jumping in place, a set of Bose x Porsche headphones sat on her ears, the white body and metallic automobile logo on the muffs bouncing with her movements.

She looks up from her focussed point beneath her, facing the camera that zooms in and captures the determined flare within the pools of her eyes.

 The music, already beginning its powerful bass bursts, dims and briefly we can hear her laboured breathing as she stretches her hands above her and unzips the tight athleisure jacket that she had worn previously for warmth. The adidas logo crumples as she throws it away, revealing a cropped sports bra, white with grey stripes at the sides containing an embroidered Porsche logo on her left breast.

Soon enough, the music comes blaring back and the camera merely turns to follow her body as she begins to run away from the safety of her team enclosure. The scene ends with her exiting the shot, running down the initial straight of the first ever track she will race as a formula one driver.

“Aisha, what drives you in the world of Formula One?” A deep, cryptic voice off camera asks the driver sitting in shot. She smiles menacingly and leans back against her seat, her hands planted on her elegantly crossed legs as she adjusts the low cut, ‘V’ collar of her waistcoat, the colour matching the iconic Porsche guards’ red, of the rest of her risqué pantsuit.

“What drives me?” She chuckles, a low, raspy amusement that reverberates against the stormy backdrop behind her, “The competition, the domination, it runs in my blood;” She leans forward, as if the camera crew were privy to her obvious need to achieve. Aisha’s thin, golden bangles on each of her wrist’s jingle as she goes to adjust her volumous hair, “it’s not about the winning, it’s about obliterating the finish line.” She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the aggressive competitiveness that crackles in the air.

The voice chuckles at her threatening demeanour, yet continues, “Some media outlets commented on your driving style, since F2 and F3. They say it’s violent. What’s your response?”

Aisha bites her lip, thinking on the best way to diplomatically answer the question, despite her need to curse the people who doubted her.

Instead, she sighs with faux disappointment and her wide, mascara rimmed eyes move down to her rouge and gold nails whilst one of her fingers comes to slip beneath the platinum stud that sits comfortably on the left of her nose.

“Violent?” She asks, her voice barely above a murmur, “They could’ve been more descriptive.” She rolls her eyes once before inhaling, “Try...relentless. When I’m on track, behind the wheel, it’s war. And I aim to be the last one standing, if you can’t get with the program, move out the way. Cause I’m here to win.”

Her promise of no mercy is palpable as she shifts minutely in her seat, tapping her nails against one another whilst waiting for next question.

“What about the rest of the grid?” The interviewer prompts, treading carefully with his words, “Any words for them?”

Aisha scoffs under her breath, uncrossing her legs and flipping over the golden dainty necklace that rests within her exposed cleavage, the glinting logo of her team catches the light whilst she adjusts herself.

“Why words? They’ll know what I’m here for when I pass them. They’ll feel it, the fear, the resignation. I’m a whirlwind, all they can do is get swept up in it, this season, I am not racing against them, their teams or even their car; I’m racing against their hatred of losing to me.”

She smiles at the camera, eyes crinkling at the sides as her nose scrunches, a pure juxtaposition to the threat that peeled out of her mouth like scalding, hot water.

“Before we end. For your fans, what do you want them to know?”

“Hold on for your life, they’re about to witness history on the track. Cause I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to fuck shit up.” Aisha grins wickedly and laughing loudly at the flurry of reactions off camera from the crew that stood behind the myriad of wires.

Three different scenes are overlayed one another, the first being of Lewis Hamilton, giggling at someone off screen before focussing his large doe eyes onto the interviewer who also sat behind the large camera.

The second being 3X world champion Max Verstappen, who sits heavily onto the provided stool and sips at the can of the sugary energy drink in his hand, Max stared at the camera, a bored sheen coating his crystalline blue irises as the third, and final driver’s scene overtakes his.

This time Charles Leclerc enters the identical set, the Ferrari golden boy had narrowly escaped his fans-who’s screams of joy could be heard in the background as he waved a final time and pocketed a bright red, branded Ferrari pen whilst sighing, glancing around haphazardly.

“Lewis”

Hamilton perks up at his name, smiling serenely, prompting the interviewer to continue.

“The world of Formula one is ablaze about new entry, Aisha Patel. Do you think, as a seasoned professional, she has what it takes to compete?”

Lewis whistles lowly, leaning back against his seat and wraps his arms around himself, “Damn- starting strong huh?” He snorts once before re-adjusting his posture, “Y’know, we’ve heard of her up here. And she’s talented, but obliterating F3 and F2 does not directly auto-translate to domination on our track.”

“Is that scepticism that I hear?” The interviewer chases after the hesitation in the driver’s voice, like a dog after a juicy bone.

“Call it...” Lewis arches an eyebrow as he mulls over his words, “Healthy cautiousness. I’m waiting to see how she handles the pressure after the lights go out.”

“Max”

Max hums lazily, as though he had one too many bubbling seltzers that sat, pristine on the refreshments table, “Yeah?”

“Aisha Patel.”

Max clenches his jaw at the sound of her name.

“She’s said to rival your aggressiveness on track, what are your thoughts on her joining your world?”

Max scoffs at the seemingly preposterous statement, “What about her? She’s aggressive, so what? It’s skill that matters here in the big leagues. Give a baby a steering wheel to a supercharged car, that’ll be aggressive. I’m not holding my breath for her. “

“That sounds like someone who’s threatened?” He probes the already on edge driver.

“A threat?” Max chortles as if someone had offered him a mere penny for his thoughts, “I haven’t been threatened since kindergarten. I’ll let her have her try at the status quo, take one for the team and all.”

“Charles”

The alarmingly red adorned man tilts his head inquisitively at the interviewer, his gentle smile popping his dimples.

“Miss. Patel has been said to be relentless on track, throwing caution to the wind. Your thoughts on her violent debut?”

Charles hums as he nods his head, “It’s nice to see fresh blood on track, bonne, she’s certainly caught people’s attention. Let’s see if she’s all bark and no bite.” He mummers the French praise before shrugging at the end of his sentence.

“You’re excited to compete against her?”

“Of course- who wouldn’t be? New team, new driver. The more varied the sport, the more interesting.” He answers neutrality laced into his words, despite the excited glint in his eye.

“Thank you for your insights.” The interviewer thanks the men in their tapes, each of them reciprocating with equal politeness.

“Of course,” Lewis grins and claps his hands, turning to start chatting once again as he dismounts from the chair, already walking away.

“No problem,” Max nods his head once, stepping down from his seat whilst receiving a fresh can of Red Bull.

“Cheers mate,” The camera captures Charles leaning forward to shake the interviewer’s hand whilst patting his shoulder, before detaching to go and talk to the gaggle of Ferrari personnel who had gathered within the filming shed.

The 2025 drivers had gathered onto the Bahrain track, the relentless mid-day sun beating down on them as a few of them had the pleasure of black umbrellas being held above them, whilst other’s held small hand-fans in the large palms, basking in the cool breeze that the battery powered trinket provided.

Aisha walked out, her racing shoes tapping against the tarmac as she made her way towards the others. A few Porsche employees trailed behind her, one of them stayed closer behind her, offering her a metallic, grey hand-held fan along with a chilled bottle of water.

“Thanks,” She murmured, brushing the hair that managed to escape her ponytail, “It’s fucking boiling.” Aisha complained, tugging at her fireproofs whilst another employee came up to her, patting her face with a setting powder as an attempt to dry her skin.

“Can’t really help it, love.” The media admin, Sarah, pointed out removing her focus from one of the jittery interns to the driver, “Now- you’re going to walk out, fans are going to see you. Are you sure you don’t want to hide your face right now?”

Aisha cracked open the bottle in her hand, having pressed the condensation coated plastic against her forehead long enough. She faced away from 2-3 people surrounding her to peak past the acrylic barrier, onto the track, where the rest of the drivers stood haphazardly scattered around the starting position boxes that had been freshly painted onto the concrete polymer.

“It’s fine, I think I’ve already heard all their opinions on me.” Aisha groaned, fanning her face again as she kicked a non-existent pebble beneath her toe, “What could go wrong?”

She peaked out again, like a tense meerkat, only to be surprised with her teammate, Pierre chatting with his former partner, Esteban Ocon. His racing suit was already zipped up fully as he basked in the fan’s unintelligible shouts and squeals, the thick, grey fabric stretched over his body nicely as the different sponsor logos morphed to the wrinkles and dents of the cloth.

“He’s already out there.” She hissed, “Making me look like shit.” Aisha banged the back of her crown against the wall that provided her with the much-needed shelter, from both the sweltering rays and the assessing gazes of the crowd above.

“Nonsense lovey.” Sarah assured her, picking at the hem of her fireproofs and pressing a few of the sweaty, stray strands of hair back into position, “Pedro’s just catching up with some friends.”

“Pierre.” Aisha corrected, pulling up her identical suit from hanging lowly from her waist to her shoulders, thankfully she still had time to leave it unzipped.

“Whatever.” She flapped her hand dismissively, ���Baguette man isn’t doing anything you won’t have to.”

“Okay,” Aisha breathed out, keeping her lips taught and still as her rouge lipstick was touched up by another Porsche jersey adorned worker, “My helmet?” She looked around, patting herself, as though it would appear out of thin air.

Sarah looked around her surrounding, panicked, before snorting and pointing to the ledge behind the group, “There ya go babe.” She leaned past Aisha to knock on the head gear.

“I’m a mess,” Aisha whined, picking up her helmet whilst rubbing the glossy exterior with an open palm, she runs her fingers over her last name that’s printed on the back.

“A hot mess.” Sarah corrected her, hooking their elbows together whilst ushering forward the teenage interns next to them- their hands shaking with apprehension as they gripped the phones in their hands, the gadget recording each moment.

Aisha stilled slightly as her foot contacted the tarmac, the crowd already hushing with undivided interest on her mere shadow. She could feel anxious sweat begin to build up on the nape of her neck, flushing her face and glistening against her skin.

Finally, after a few minutes of inner turmoil, she allowed Sarah to guide her out within the crowd of other team’s media escorts and her fellow drivers. The grandstands erupted with chaos, the rushing of footsteps- scrambling to take the first photos of her in her debut, the unravelling of flags, the patriotic colours burning against the pristine plexi-glass barriers and multiple little girls shouting happily at her image.

Aisha forced a smile onto her face, the unexpected praise soothed her blushing ears as she waved up at the viewing boxes.

“Well, well. Nobody’s ever screamed like that for me.” A voice creeped up behind her, causing Aisha to whip around with a cautionary hand on her chest.

A cheeky grin greeted her, “Lando” Aisha breathed out, leaning to the side of his stature to acknowledge the rabid paparazzi behind of them with a tight-lipped nod.

“Hey,” He greeted her, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tapping the top of his helmet that sat squeezed between his arm and waist, “You nervous?” Lando tipped his head boyishly, his curls falling over his forehead, hazel eyes softening as he watched her.

“Not really,” Aisha lied, “do you need to pee?” She looked at him anxiously, watching as he stopped bouncing like a full bladdered toddler, and stood still. Lando chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to answer, until he lurched forward under the weight of a heavy arm that hung from his shoulders.

“Little Lando Norris.” Daniel chuckled, rubbing his knuckles over the younger’s head, and snorted when Lando pushed his hand away stumbling out from his hold, “Already chatting up the newbie?” Daniel looks at Aisha with a smirk, “I think his pubes finally grew in.” He faux whispered, his voice gritty as he winked.

“I’m not chatting up anyone,” Lando smacked Daniel between the eyes before walking backwards, next to Aisha, “Just catching up.” He shrugged, side-eyeing her, gauging a reaction from her steely expression. Luckily, he got one, Aisha’s eyes widened slightly, her eyelashes fluttering to match her hearts faster pace as she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes.

“Catching up?” Daniel inquired, suddenly interested, “You guys know each other from before?”

“Yeah, we karted together.” Aisha crossed her arms over one another, before accepting a cold can of thumbs up from a staff member, “Still remember how he shit his pants.” She mumbled.

“I did not!”

“What the fuck.”

Both men exclaimed at the same time, Lando blushing a furious red and Daniel cackling loudly- leading to not only the attention from the other drivers that stood in a 200m vicinity but also Aisha snorting out her drink from her nose.

“I did not shit my pants.” Lando gritted out the last part, to stop prying ears of the other men approaching to become privy to his humiliation.

“You did though?” Aisha arched a brow at him, “I passed by you on the last lap, therefore winning-“ She poked her outstretched pinkie from her can into his puffed up chest, “And that made you so mad, that you shit your pants.”

“Oh god,” Daniel wheezed, taking support on his shorter teammate who had trotted up to join the conversation. Yuki scrunched up his face, tilting away from the force of the elder before looking at Aisha sympathetically,

“You excited?” He grinned slightly, showing off the gap between his front teeth.

“Definitely. How could I not be?” Aisha looked down at Yuki, shifting her weight slightly as an attempt to lower herself, “The crippling pressure? The thousands of viewers? The weight of both of my country’s on my shoulders?” Aisha blew a nonchalant breath from between her lips whilst waving her hand in front of her face, “No biggie.”

The three men stared at her, blank expressions on their face, one of them pressed their lips together, smacking them and creating an equally awkward “popping” noise for the group to bask in.

“I meant more like, the race and stuff..” Yuki mumbled, scratching the back of his head before yelping when Daniel smacked the nape of his neck, “But yeah, what you said works too, fo sho, no doubt, no doubt.” He corrected himself hastily.

“Fo sho?” A fourth voice chimed in, this time with a French lilt to his words, “Who’s got yuki talking like that?”

Aisha looked away amusedly from the smaller driver to the voice, her eyes widened at the blaring red that adorned the man in front of her.

“My period wasn’t due until after the race.” She commented, meeting the man’s intense gaze, “Are you here to ask if I’d like to continue watching?” She tilted her head innocently.

“Ah, I see.” He scrunches his nose at her, “You’ve got our baby Yuki talking like that.”

“Hey, fuck you man.” Yuki protested, throwing his arms up with a huff.

“I know you want to,” The seemingly french-man retorted back with a shameful wink,

“You wink like you’re trying not to cry.” Lando pointed out.

Aisha clapped her hands at her revelation, “That’s what it looked like!”

Lando shrugged, as though it was obvious.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m not here to start the next French revolution or whatever-“ She mumbled, holding out a polite hand as a civil greeting.

Though, she was not met with his acceptance immediately, instead the three men surrounding her grimaced and hissed through their teeth- Daniel shook his hand out like he had just burned himself. Aisha looked around, oblivious to the reason for their reactions and jolted her hand out to the man.

“I’m from Monaco,” He snarked, accepting her hand begrudgingly, “Not France.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She shrugged in reply.

“Charles” he gritted out, squeezing Aisha’s hand tightly- a poor attempt to veil his distaste, “Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver.”

“Really?” Aisha squeezed harder, taking a step back to roll her eyes over his bright red suit, “Couldn’t tell.” She snorted.

“Right, well” Lando coughed, reaching forward to peel away both of their hands simultaneously, “This was fun. Meeting new people.” He took Aisha’s hand in his but dropped it quickly when she looked down at their conjoined fingers. Lando coughed, the tips of his ears blushing a furious scarlet, before he shifted to glance at his oh-so-interesting boots.

Luckily, the situation was saved by one of the administration workers clapping their hands and speaking robotically into a megaphone, “drivers, please make your way to your positions.”

The seasoned drivers around her began to exit their conversations and walk towards the bleachers style setup at the start line of the circuit. At least 12 black, metallic chairs sat in a row behind a small plaque, displaying bold white font that detailed the circuit name and the iconic formula one logo sprawled along the edges of the display board.

“Didn’t need this fucking helmet.” Aisha hissed to herself, jogging to one of the Porsche employees that stood at the edge of the camera shot, handing off the piece of equipment, before making her way back to the crowd.

She zipped up her suit and removed the piece of elastic from her hair, letting the noir waves fall down her shoulders as she scanned the already in place men in front of her, thankfully Pierre waved at her and ushered for her to take place next to him, standing behind the pair of Mercedes drivers who were snickering at some joke the other had just told.

Aisha huffed, clasping her hands behind her waist whilst jerking her head side to side due to odd strands of hair tickling her eyes and nose, before she could exasperatedly wipe her face with her hand, a pair of fingers had come and brushed against her nose. Aisha minutely followed the soft pads across her cheek before trailing her gaze up to the origin, Lando met her eyes, his own irises blown out as his hand lingered by her cheek- his thumb twitching across her skin before he coughed and re-took his position.

“Thank you,” She murmured beneath her breath, neutralising her face against the onslaught of obnoxious camera shutters and piercing sun rays.

“No problem,” Lando nodded slightly, his eyes flicking back to her face, tracing her features with his shy stare, “You did great in qualifying, yesterday.” He hastily complimented.

Aisha tried to fight against the blush that made its way up her neck, “thank you,” she snipped, pressing her lips together as a futile attempt at hiding her girlish smile.

Lando huffed out a laugh, turning his neck to grin at her, “anytime.”

Finally, the pictures had come to a stop, and the long-barrelled cameras were packed away and the grid were herded to a large, open roof truck. Another admin worker trailed behind the last driver into the pen-like vehicle, stepping up the stairs to hang back from the railing after locking the gate, “everyone’s here?’ she asked, giving a once over the flocked in men, and woman.

“Aisha, you’ll be first to talk to Lawrence,” She met eyes with Aisha, who was already waving to the rowdy fans who had collected at the banisters of the grandstands, “And then it’ll be whoever’s closest.”

The lady nodded once when the drivers thanked her, then she caught Aisha’s gaze again and she smiled reassuringly, “See you guys around.” She waved and dismounted from the railing with a jump.

The large platform began to move as the truck silently hummed to life, Aisha moved from her comfortable position at the back of the area-leaning against the matte, black railing towards Lawrence who smiled excitedly at her approaching figure. As she knitted through the small groups of 3 drivers littered in her path, she continued to wave at the fans who shouted and screamed at each subtle view they managed to glimpse of her.

“Aisha! Hi!” Lawrence greeted her, offering his hand for her to shake and swivelled around to collect a microphone.

“Hello, hello.” Aisha grinned back, accepting the long piece of tech from him, comically rotating it in her hands observing the porous black material that had been painted with a flaring red to create the F1 logo.

“So, you’re finally here! The big leagues, and yesterday’s qualifying must’ve been very exciting.  We’ve all been so blown away with Porsche’s car, and your performance. P5 ! Amazing. Walk us through what you’re feeling right now?”

“I mean, it’s a confidence booster of course, qualifying top 5- but I think that along with that it’s proving to myself and other little girls like me that it isn’t about who you are, but what you can do, regardless of gender or background.” Aisha nods once, leaning her elbow against the railing to crane her neck around and take in the track that lay ahead of the speedily moving vehicle.

“It’s great that you can showcase your talent and inspire young minds, but with that said- there’s obviously a pressure that comes with entering such a male-dominated sport.”

Aisha stilled slightly, her eyes wide and unblinking for a beat, “I mean, there’s always going to be extra expectation on you when you’re breaking barriers. The way I see it, this is an opportunity to pave the way for future generation, so really, its fuels my success and goes to show that gender or race, doesn’t correlate to your ability on track.”

“Well said, and while we’re on the topic of your determination, whilst being in the spotlight almost 24/7 and the battles on track, how do you maintain focus? It must be overwhelming.”

Aisha chuckled, turning to look at the other drivers, a few of them had tuned into her interview not-so-subtle whilst others were still deep in conversation, “I mean, when you’re battling against jumbo sized toddlers, and then being put under the loving spotlight of the media, I agree, it can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. But then I remind myself, why am I here? What am I here to do? And at the end of the day, it’s just me, the car, and the track, so I really don’t mind it too much.”

She shrugged at the end of her sentence, flipping her hair over her shoulder before unzipping the thick race suit. Revealing her tight, fireproofs beneath, the Indian flag sat proudly on her shoulder whilst her team logo lay sprawled across her chest along with the sponsor logos littered across the rest of her front.

“You make it seem so easy Aisha,” Lawrence laughed, oblivious to the tension that had gathered in the young woman’s shoulders and the tightness of her eyes that had increased tenfold throughout their conversation, “Last question before I let you go, to all of  your young fans gathered here today-“ he pointed up to the bleachers that came into view on the straight that the truck was approaching, where multiple younger children stood, jumping in their spots as their Porsche hats bobbled on their heads, “-what would you tell them? Especially those who are most likely facing challenges in their racing journey?”

Aisha smiled serenely, imagining herself in the seats that sat so far away from her, what her younger self would long to hear to make her racing career just a little bit easier, “To all the younger dreamers, never let anyone else tell you your limits. They may say to stop, but you need to believe that you can keep going. Chase your passions relentlessly because if you do, then the only barriers will be the ones we allow ourselves to see. Keep fighting, because one day, you’ll see that you’re right where you need to be.”

“Wow” He sighed, hand on his heart, “That inspired me.” Lawrence laughed heartily, “Finally, maybe just a few words in your native language, now from what I know you spent at least 3 years living in India? For your education?” He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.

Aisha nodded happily, “Yes, I did! so you want a message in Hindi? There are so many languages in my country, but sadly I’m only fluent in Hindi, despite being Gujarati myself.”

“That would be great, please do.”

“Sabse pehle, main apne sabhi fans ko bahut saara pyaar dena chahti hoon. Aap log mere liye inspiration ho, aur main hamesha aapke saath hoon. Aap sabka support mere liye bahut important hai, aur thank you kehna chahti hoon.”

[First of all, I want to give a lot of love to all my fans. You are an inspiration for me, and I am always with you. All your support is very important for me, and I would like to say thank you.]

“Amazing, thank you so much Aisha,” Lawrence gently took the microphone away from her and offered a grateful smile before looking towards Fernando who had made his way towards the pair.

“No problem,” Aisha stepped away, patting the eldest driver’s back once before turning away and making her way towards Lando, who had already been looking towards her, waiting for her to approach him, along with Oscar and Logan who were engrossed in conversation.

The scene fades away from the three seasoned drivers and in the blackness another title appears, “RACE DAY” and following this the Porsche garage is finally revealed for the first time, much like the other teams the hard acrylic surfaces were decorated with the team colours and many engineers, technicians and workers were rushing around whilst other’s begaan to detach the hydraulic tubes from the cars in preparation for the first race of the season.

Before the first car revved up with anticipation, the halo was shown displaying the driver number and surname, “GASLY 10” and with that, the tubes were removed and the driver’s engineer pulled away, removing the iPad from Pierre’s gloved hands, allowing him to speed off towards his starting position.

The camera pans over to the second car that is yet to exit the garage, the driver within seemed to be hurriedly re-reading the car statistics, consuming that data over and over again, the scene rotates from the back of the car towards the front, where from beyond the middle column of the halo we get a glimpse of the large helmet following her heads sporadic movements, the Indian and British flag printed onto the front side of her head gear, peeped in and out of view as she handed away the tablet and she pulled on her gloves that lay waiting on the chassis in front of her.

With a confident thumbs up, she followed one of the Porsche employee’s guiding movements towards the other racers who sat in their cars, waiting for the start. Maintaining an even pace, she passed by the other cars, the exposed carbon fibre of Esteban’s Alpine in P10 and bright orange of Oscar’s McLaren in P7. She found her box waiting for her car as she pulled in and slowly removed her foot from the acceleration as she joined the grid in waiting for the formation lap.

The music faded away, to allow Aisha’s monologue to play over the still of the onboard camera, “This is it, I thought to myself, all the years of hard work and sacrifices have led up to this moment. This isn’t like F3 or F2-“ the live replay of the sleek interior of her F1 car is replaced by exhilarating moments of on track battles from her previous racing leagues, “- this is F1, where dreams are trampled on and shattered if you can’t keep up.” Her voice trembles slightly as we hear her take a deep breath in and the cars are overtaken with a new scene.

We see Aisha, in the same deep red sultry pantsuit, her side profile contrasted in the shadows as her chest rises and falls, “I remember the moment exactly, I told myself ‘Aisha, soak it in, the cheers and the feeling of other’s dreams, their expectations, cause it can make or break you.” She laughs incredulously at herself, “dramatic I know.”

“But it was electrifying, the whole thing, the thrum of the engines, the anticipation. I have never felt anything like it. But it’s everything I’ve trained for and everything I’ve wanted since I was little and racing go-karts.” Snippets of the raging, overwhelming sound of spluttering go-karts overtake the screen as one after another, we see young Aisha, drowning in an oversized sponsored uniform cut through the chequered ribbon.

“To the other drivers on the grid, it’s just the first race of the season, but for me, it’s my debut, it’s the first and only chance to prove that I’m meant to be here.” Aisha claps her hands, and the bursting flashes of her karting days cease, and we’re brought back to her, sitting in the tall stool, legs crossed over elegantly as she waves her heel back and forth, “The countdown began, and it’s lights out and away we go.”

The red lights above the Bahrain track fade away one by one, Crofty’s voice is matched with hers, and just as the sound of the engines crescendo, the scene ends.

“Right Lando- “

The young British man makes his way into the stool, wobbling slightly as he flails his hands before rocking back to stability. He lets out a relieved breath and crosses his arms over his chest, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the golden, volt bracelet on his wrist the Luis Vuitton logo glinting in the light from his absent-minded movements.

“Hi, yes, I’m here.” Lando looked up at the interviewer, his eyes bouncing between the 3-4 different camera’s capturing him from odd angles, “Which-“he pointed at one of them, “-which one am I looking at?”

The interviewer laughed before leaning forward and tapping the lens of the middle-most camera, “This one.”

Lando breathed out, “great” before adjusting the pillowing fabric of his hoodie and stared straight into the glass barrel in front of him, “I’m Lando Norris, and I race for McLaren Formula one team.”

“We ehm we didn’t need that. It- it’s different from Drive to Survive,”

Lando cringed and rubbed the back of his head, causing the bracelet to ride up beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, “My bad- “

“Don’t worry about it, Now-“The sound of cue cards being shuffled could be heard, “Onto the first question, we’ve heard rumours about you and Aisha, especially during your karting days, care to elaborate?”

Lando sucks air through his teeth as he smirks, “Me and Aisha…” He looks down to his hands, fingers finding purchase on the angled charm of his bracelet, “We go way back, I mean, it was either me or her who were winning the races, she was,” He sighs heavily, his eyes starry as he looks back up to the camera, “She was, no, she is everything.”

“Can’t help but notice the bracelet that you have on, anything significant?”

“It’s symbolic, I guess?but nothing too big.” He shrugs it off, hiding away the jewellery from prying eyes.

The interviewer presses their lips together, humming whilst shuffling the cards once again, “Right, of course, but some fans have already started to notice that you and she are…close.”

“Close? We’ve always been close, it’s like electric with her, it’s hard not to be attached to her talent.” Lando smirks playfully, winking at the camera, “Karting with her was so intense, we pushed each other to the limit, and I will always hold her and those memories close to my heart.”

“Seems like obsession,” They laugh.

“Oh, it most definitely is, I mean, have you seen her?” Lando flourishes dramatically with his hands, as though the woman was sitting right next to him.

We are brought back to the first driver’s briefing of the season, mere days before the Bahrain Grand Prix, Aisha had just sat down next to Pierre and began to chat amicably with her new teammate, bouts of laughter erupting from the pair momentarily.

The camera pans from the bonding partners to Lando, still hiding his head between his palms in embarrassment, though from between his ringed fingers we see his emerald irises peeking through the gaps, staring thoughtfully at the enrapturing driver who was currently fiddling with the van clef, indigo bracelets that shimmered around her wrist.

Oscar, who was also curiously watching the woman jogged Lando, snapping the man out of his trance, “Mate- you’re drooling,” He poked his teammate’s cheek.

Lando slapped away the finger that prodded his face, “I am not.”

“Whatever you say,” Oscar hummed, turning his attention back to the administrator who was flipping through a few data filled papers, bringing their mouth closer to the bendable microphone. Oscar leaned into Lando, bumping their shoulders together, “Just be careful.”

Aisha breathed out a sigh, capping the black, matte Bulgari pen, slipping it into the awkwardly small purse that hung from her shoulder. She slammed the driver’s door of her car, having just finished a load of signing and smiling with fans, her main objective was to get through the security scanners peacefully.

“Hey stranger,” A voice came up behind her, tapping her arm.

“Lando,” Aisha tried to contain the quiver in her voice, “I thought you already got in.” She adjusted the neckline of her top, the tight sleeves hugged her shoulders and left her skin exposed to the warm sun.

“I did, I just needed something from my car and then I saw you,” He grinned at her, tapping his key card against the scanner, walking seamlessly through the rotating barrier, “You look like you’re about to walk a runway.”

Aisha laughed, tucking a straightened lock of hair behind her ear, “Thanks, you look…” Aisha assessed his outfit, a pair of light blue baggy, Levi’s and one of his own merch hoodies, “normal.” She cringed at her unnecessary honesty.

Yet, Lando just laughed and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah- compared to you.”

Aisha continued to walk through the paddock, the British driver at her side whilst she waved to those personnel that passed by. She looked down at her own clothes, a neat, navy, off-the shoulder top that hugged her chest in all the right places was tucked into a grey mini-skirt, compliments of one of the many brand ambassadors of her team, the item was paired with a thin brown, gold buckled belt along with knee-high go-go boots.

“You could say that” She conceded, adjusting the golden Porsche chain that clung to her neck, “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” Lando pocketed his hands.

“I you wanted to get dinner. For old times’ sake?” Aisha leaned forward on one foot, tilting her head hopefully before coming to a stop and waiting for his response.

Lando beamed widely, his eyes sparkling, “Definitely, I would be an absolute idiot to turn you down.”

Aisha blushed and looked down at the bracelets on her wrist, multiple layered golden chains which reflected light against her face in the most euphoric way, “Great, I’ll ju-“

“AISHA, oh my god it’s really her, AISHA!”

A shrill, young voice erupted from behind the pair, and a group of 3-4 young girls came running up to the pair. Aisha laughed to herself, plucking out the pen once more.

“Hello,” Aisha greeted the pre-teens who surrounded her, two of them dressed in a signature papaya orange whilst the other two sported metallic, silver Porsche merch, “You guys look so good!”

She accepted the hats and odd poster that the girls shyly handed her, “We’re so excited to see you race! You’re the only one who looks like us.” One of them spoke, her copper toned, youthful cheeks bobbed up with her smile as her long, black ponytail weaved with her excited movements.

“That’s so sweet, I think I might just win the race for you.” Aisha opened her arm for the girl to step into as they took a photo.

“Ehm, Lando, could we get an autograph as well,” Another one asked, already unfurling a second poster along with presenting the enraptured male with a sharpie.

“Absolutely! How could I resist?” Lando accepted the pen and began to sign the poster along with some newly presented items that the other two girls had produced.

“Thank you, guys, so much!” Aisha waved off the girls and turned back to Lando, already handing over her phone for him to enter in his number.

The young fans were squealing on their way back to their parents, who were just as excited for their young daughter’s interaction, “Did you guys see the bracelet?”

“What bracelet?” Another one asked, carefully rolling up her poster and handing it to her father, who tucked it under his arm and offered his hand for her to take.

“Lando’s, the one he wore for the whole of last season…” She adjusted her cap, looking confusedly at her three friends.

“Oh…I didn’t.”

“Neither did I.”

The screen faded away from Lando, sitting with his teammate whilst gawking at Aisha and we’re brought back to the present, the on-board camera of the Porsche is aimed at the lights that have just gone dark and all at once, a symphony of rubber against concrete fills the scene.

Aisha navigated turn one with ease, emerging from the throng of cars still in P5, her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she focussed every ounce within her body on the track ahead. The bright spotlights above her cast a blinding hue over the grandstands, illuminating the eager fans from around the world, their flags waved in their air as they watched with anticipation when she approached Lewis from behind, pressuring the world champion ahead as they weaved into the next turn.

Aisha aimed for the apex, seeing the slightest gap for her to slip past, as she pointed the head of her car towards the opening, she held her breath and pressed on the throttle. Aisha lurched backwards as she could feel the crackles of her under-board hit the track with each increase in speed she made, yet she managed to dodge the Mercedes car and fly down the straight, maintaining her tyres as best as she could.

The radio thrummed to life in her ear as her race engineer, James, began to speak, “Great work with Lewis, already around 1.15 behind you. Take care of your tyres for now and defend.”

Aisha breathed heavily as she continued to meet the corners and walls with barely an inch to save herself as a highly effective attempt to prevent more overtakes, “Got it.”

She continued her pace throughout the laps, the continuous build up over 20 rounds had inched her closer and closer to Carlos who was struggling in P3, his braking getting worse and worse with each sharp turn.

“James- how much closer do I need to overtake?” Aisha gritted out, flitting her eyes to the large, white metallic DRS sign that entered her limited field of vision.

“Only a bit more Aisha, it’s time to push.”

Aisha stepped harshly onto the gas, her engine thrumming all around her as she charged closer to the bright red Ferrari ahead. She could see the rubber of the tyres in front burn and smoke with every swerve. The roar of her engine filled her ears, drowning out the noise of her own heartbeat as she braced herself for the challenge, “Here we go,” she murmured, voice firm and steely with determination.

She surged her car forward, pushing her machine to the limit as she matched Carlos’ pace with precision and determination, the desert heat bore down in mirage-like waves as the two drivers danced on the razor’s edge of competition. One by one measly lap, the distance shortened until they were wheel to wheel, and all Aisha could do was grit her teeth until she could taste the tangy calcium as she continued the precipice of a wipe-out, the promise of a podium too good to lose.

Aisha’s heart pounded with exhilaration as they hurtled down the straight once again, soon enough the pair were met with the sharpest corner yet, Aisha pushed further and Carlos relented, edging away meekly to allow her to slip by. The crowd’s cheers washed over her, a wave of euphoria crashing over her senses as her heart swelled with triumph.

“WOO! P3!”

“Amazing work Aisha, halfway there. Get some distance between you two.”

“I can take on Checo,” Aisha promised, her aggressive spirit burning deeply within her core as her eyes narrowed into the back of one of the red bulls.

“Go for it, but be careful, your tyres aren’t that good.” James warned her, his voice crisp with caution.

“I got this.”

Aisha revved up once her power had flashed a promising green on the screen in front of her, “It’s time to pounce.” She promised herself whilst flicking the DRS button with her thumb, letting the flap behind her quiver open, the force launched her forward like never before as the lap count leached into the 40’s, Checo hadn’t yet pitted, neither had she, and suddenly, it was a battle of the wills.

She tried all that she could, nudging her nose into the smallest of gaps and backing out when he had angled himself predatorially, grazing her front wing enough for her heart to jump into her throat, “What the fuck is he doing? Fucking cocksucker, he wants to kill me or what?” Aisha had to remind herself to lower her voice.

“It’s within regulation, keep pushing you’re approaching DRS again.” James assured her.

The car trembled beneath her, like a jaguar waiting to pounce again after one failure, she pressed again. This time she nipped Checo’s wheel, causing for him to quickly move out of the way, narrowly missing a spin-off and allowing Aisha to speed into P2.

“FUCK YES! HOLY SHI-“

Aisha’s celebration was cut short when a dangerous thrum approached her rapidly, she attempted with all her might to duck and weave into and out of his path, but Checo was relentless, continuously rubbing against her wheels and forcing her to utilise her power.

“Fuck, fuck what the actual shit?” Aisha screeched as she continued to sloppily defend, her anger bubbling up like hot water.

The red bull growled and pounced in front of her, clipping enough of her front wheel to send her spinning. Aisha shouted with malice, throwing up her hands as her wheels began to rotate rapidly, “BASTARD!”

Her vision blurred as the world around her continued to haphazardly shift, the fans above stilled with trepidation as they watched her strangle her wheel with both hands and wrangle the car back into position.

“Okay, so that’s P5- P5, Piastri, Sainz, Perez and Verstappen in front of you,”

“Copy.” Aisha grumbled darkly, manoeuvring the vehicle so that she could continue to viciously speed down the final lap, murderously defending her position as her stomach finally settled and head stopped pounding with adrenaline.

The race ended with Crofty heartily congratulating her over the commentary,

“And Verstappen has won the Bahrain grand prix! with Checo in P2 and Sainz in the Ferrari in P3. Now the fans have spoken, and new-comer Aisha Patel has been voted driver of the day, rightfully so, securing a solid P5 finish after a challenging battle on the track. it's fantastic to see her scoring valuable points in her debut race. And let's not forget the incredible debut of the Porsche F1 Team! It's clear that they're a force to be reckoned with in the championship.”

A view of Max passing through the finish line is shown, sparks flew behind his car as he speeds through and turned into the parc ferme. Aisha is also shown, her eyes steely from within her helmet and as she stops her car she clambers out of the cockpit and rips of her headgear, a scowl evident on her usually cool face.

She pushes open the gate to the media pen, narrowly avoiding Max, who spared her a dark glance from over his shoulder before turning back to the interviewer.

“Yeah, people make stupid decisions sometimes,” She heard him answer the unintelligible question. Aisha could already feel the anger burn her throat as she whipped her head around and met Max’s eyes, he stared back, an inferno raging within his blue iris’. She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by her Media manager, pulling her away gently, Aisha followed tearing her eyes away from the Dutchman. Yet, she could still feel his heated gaze on her.

Aisha scoffed passing by Carlos and Checo, who were conversing in fast Spanish, and headed towards the common media area, where eager and ravenous reporters began to clamber on top of one another as they caught sight of her sweaty face and stringy hair.

“Aisha! Aisha!”  They called, loud voices breaking through the microphone and blowing through the audio.

Aisha huffed and went towards the tell-tale white microphone, the sky sports logo sprawled all over the foam cover,

“Hi Aisha, congratulations on the P5 today,” Mark started, holding the microphone out for the visibly annoyed driver.

“Thank you,” She snipped, but blinked a few times before forcing herself to continue, “Y’know could’ve been a P2 finish for Porsche today, but I’m happy with both Pierre and I’s finish, at least we scored some valuable points.” Aisha robotically recounted her PR training.

“Definitely a tough break for you out there,” He nodded solemnly, “Care to walk us through what happened with Checo on lap 43?”

Aisha sucked in a breath, looking behind her where her PR person stood, arms crossed over her Porsche shirt as she shrugged, “Yeah, of course, it’s disappointing end to my race, P2 would probably be a dream, but Checo made a-“ Aisha bit her tongue momentarily, looking into the few dozen camera’s pointed at her, until she noticed Checo’s reflection walking behind her, heading to the cool-down room, “-a dickhead move absolutely dangerous, there was contact because he couldn’t use his eyes, and that caused me to spin out. It’s racing, I know, but you don’t see race winners or legends making moves like that.” Aisha hissed.

Mark stared at her, mouth agape before he recollected himself and forced a flabbergasted laugh, “Well, that’s one way to put it.” The other surrounding reporters were close to drooling at the mouth, their own mics pushed further through the gaps as they imagined the debaucherous headlines they could create from her outburst.

“How were you feeling during that moment?”

“Truthfully?” She tilted her head, “Pissed, but you probably didn’t you marky-moo, my radio probably told you that. But after I managed to regain my original position, I was more determined to just finish the race with a solid end.”

He laughed at that but stilled when Checo emerged once again from the cool-off room, “Checo!” Mark called, oblivious to the thunderous haze that overtook Aisha. She checked behind her shoulder, and her upper lip curled with malice,

“I’ll let Checo say his bit- “She murmured, “Excuse me.” And left the pen, heading towards the Porsche garage whilst avoiding eye-contact with Lucy, her fuming PR manager.

“Hey! Checo!” Aisha called out, throwing down her headphones, leaving her race engineer in concerned confusion as she approached the red bull driver, amid his team, oblivious to the storm about to hit him.

“Oh, hey Aisha-“

“Do not, hey, me.” She snarled, “What the fuck was that on track? Were you trying to kill me back there? You could’ve overtaken me in so many other ways.” Aisha approached him, prompting Checo to take a simultaneous step back, hands raised.

“It’s racing Aisha, I had to make a split-second decision.”

“We all make decisions, Perez,” She snarled, hands balling up into fists, “You don’t see Charles or Carlos or anyone with half a brain doing what you did? You messed up my race!” Aisha’s voice begins to raise, drawing attention of the red bull personnel, since the pair had manged to slowly move up to the entrance of the garage, and prompting a few camera men, who were following around Lando and Oscar to pan over to her.

Aisha groans, smacking her palm against her head a few times as a display of aggression before turning back to a very sweaty, nervous driver, “Never mind my race- you had fucking so many other options, why? Why did you decide to clip my wheel? Is it because being overtaken by a woman was so embarrassing, for red bull’s number two, you couldn’t handle it?” Aisha mocks him, before starting to approach his frozen form, a violent fire burning in her eyes and spreading to her limbs, igniting them with her fury.

Just as there was merely a centimetre between the two, a pair of strong arms hooked themselves around her elbows, holding her hand away from Checo, who had started shouting about his “personal safety”.

“Are you fucking stupid?” A gruff voice whispers into her ear.

Aisha kicks out, a futile attempt to free herself, “Let me go,” She whips her head around, her hair flying,

“Can you stop? I will literally knock you out.” The voice continues, grunting when her foot narrowly misses his groin.

“Fine-“ She huffs, going limp as she shoots daggers into Checo’s retreating back being escorted by a flurry of blue clad workers, “Fine, let me go,” She mumbles.

The man drops her onto the floor instantly, allowing her to stumble over her feet. Aisha finds her footing once more and spins around to meet his eyes, “Max?”

Max stares down at her, his eyes squinted with annoyance, “Who else? You’re in front of the red bull garage.” He rolls his eyes and steps a large stride away from her.

Aisha blinks once. Twice. Before scoffing and crossing her arms, “Yeah. Thanks.” She snarks before walking away from him, leaving the dutchman standing, fuming in his spot. She manages to skip over the McLaren crowd but had attracted almost half a dozen cameras on her, the large intimidating lens’ were pushed into her face haphazardly, narrowly missing her face a few times.

Aisha had to hold herself back from stealing the cameras from their holders and smashing them onto the ground. She could feel a self-depreciating throb begin to build in her head, the memory of all the idyllic children watching her, and those who had felt represented by her made tears prick at her eyes. In that moment, with too many lens’ focussing on her quivering lip, she hoped that they wouldn’t catch the salty sadness that threatened to stream down her face

The post-race interview scene fades away, and a familiar red bull jersey is announced into the scene, the dark blue merging pleasantly with the dark grey background. We’re introduced to Checo’s frame, a placid smile on his face.

“Hi checo,” The interviewer greets the driver, who nods in acknowledgement, “Well, Bahrain was an intense time for you, especially the on track accident with Aisha, would you care to talk us through the whole thing?”

Checo clears his throat briefly, “Yeah, uhm, it was a tight battle with her, and she was holding her ground y’know, but I saw an opportunity to make a move and I took it.” He shrugged once, reverting his gaze away from the camera, “And, as an unfortunate by product, she ended up spinning out, but it’s racing, these things happen.”

“I think everyone knows that she seemed quite upset about the incident, did you have a chance to speak with her afterwards?”

“uhm, people say things when they’re angry, and Aisha was frustrated but I’m here to win races, that’s what I’ve been hired to do. Once again, it was a choice that I had to make, and it’s hard to consider everyone’s emotions while I do it.”

“Max, we recently interviewed Checo, and he had some…words to say about the situation in Bahrain, specifically with Aisha after the race. Now, we saw that you had intervened just in time, what was going on during that moment?”

Max shifted in his chair, slipping down slightly, and crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, I could see that the situation was escalating, with Aisha getting increasingly angry, it would’ve ended pretty badly.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Trust me, I know anger when I see it, and I know that races can get heated especially when avoidable occurrences aren’t avoided, but I also think that emotional regulation is crucial to compete.” He distractedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Does this change your initial views on Aisha entering the sport? Since you were pretty, pessimistic.” The interviewer cringes just as the words escape their mouth.

“I wouldn’t say I was pessimistic,” He quickly rejects, “But I think she had something to prove, just like any of us, she isn’t exempt from it. And she, raced like any of us would’ve in the moment, so do I suddenly think of her as a saint? No, but do I think that she’s building up to something? Maybe.”

“Aisha!” A voice calls from behind her, Aisha smiles at the fans who had offered her a notebook to sign, she watched them walk away before responding,

“Yeah?” She tucks away her pen into the silver, Porsche gym bag that hung from her shoulder.

Lando jogs up to her, tapping his card against the scanner before pushing through the gate and reaching her side, “Great race, you handled it...well…” He trailed off, unsure of how to spin off his compliment.

Aisha laughs at that, throwing her head back, ”It’s okay Lando, you don’t have to say anything” She tugs at the sleaves of her tight black jacket, the hugo boss label stretched over her chest as she pulled at the fabric, “I- I can get pretty mad,” Aisha shrugs, kicking an imaginary pebble with her shoe, rustling her oversized tracksuit bottoms, the three parallel lines on both her legs fluttered with the airy clothing.

“Yeah, that probably didn’t go down to well on camera,” He itches the back of his head, “I actually came to ask if you’re staying at the same hotel as the rest of us, Oscar took my car and I’m stranded.”

“Lando…” She sighs, adjusting the strap of her bag, “If you wanted to ride in my Porsche, you could’ve just said so.” Aisha gestured to her silvery 918 Spyder, the high-end sports car shimmered beneath the spotlights of the private car park.

Lando hissed through his teeth and grinned, “You caught me.” He held his hands up, “It’s the only way I can be photographed in the car without causing an uproar.”

Aisha tilted her head at him, “Oh, so nothing else is convincing you?”

“Hmmm, that, and maybe the very beautiful and scary woman who drives it?” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She looked down at his open palm before searching the area around them, the rest of the grid had departed long before, leaving just her car and another in the parking. Aisha squinted her eyes at the remaining automobile, a Honda NSX, the only owner being none other than a certain grumpy blonde, who was more focussed on his back seat than on the couple who still stood in the middle of the concrete.

Accepting his hand, she revelled in the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his, soft skin against coarse knuckles, a warm aura enveloped her being as she guided them towards her car, pulling out the flat fob to click open the expensive machine.

Yet, as she watched Lando retreat into the passenger’s seat with an amazed, “oh damn.” and went to unlock the trunk to slip her duffel bag into, she felt an icy gaze glued to her back.

Aisha turned once behind her to where Max was sitting in his driver’s seat, eyes glued at first on Lando, an unrecognisable expression painted on his face before he slowly slid it up to her face, and his once oddly neutral gaze turned into an annoyed squint.

With that, the dutchman tore his eyes away from a now, slightly agitated Aisha, towards the open road and pulled out of the car park, speeding away to what she assumed would be the hotel.

“Hey,” Lando leaned over the dash, reaching for her hand that rested on the headrest of her seat, the other braced on her car door as she watched the retreating Honda, “You okay?”

Aisha jumped out of her disturbed haze, and back to where Lando was now rubbing his fingers over hers that had tensed enough to turn her milky brown skin into a pale white, “Yeah- I’m fine, just checking for reporters.”

“I’m that embarrassing?” He teased, watching her intently as she fastened her seatbelt and smiled at the sound of the purring super engine.

Aisha snorts, “No- not at all, just making sure that McLaren’s golden boy isn’t photographed inside a Porsche- with the grid’s certified crazy woman.” She pressed on the gas.

“Yeah, but…what if I want that?”

“What?” Aisha’s eyebrows knitted together; eyes still glued to the unfamiliar roads ahead as the GPS stopped squawking at her for a brief moment.

“I don’t care if you’re the crazy woman…You’re just, you. I don’t care about the rest.” Lando smiled lazily, his eyes studying her quickly flustered face.

“You’re a horrible flirt Norris.” She grumbled.

[inawickedlittletown]

Becoming Pawrents (BuckTommy) - one-shot

Summary: Out on a call, the 118 finds a box of abandoned puppies.

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 6: kids and pets

Rated: G

Words: 2.3k

@bucktommypositivityweek

-

Read on Ao3

The box trembled.

“So, uh, what do we think it is?” Buck asked. 

Chim approached it with some trepidation. “It’s probably nothing, right, Cap?” 

The call hadn’t been about the box. It had been a minor car accident. No one had actually been injured in the accident, but the very angry guy in the Porsche had taken affront at the inconvenience and actually punched the other driver who had then fallen and hit his head on the hood of his own car. The irate guy had then tried to lunge at the police officer before his partner got cuffs on him. 

After all of that had been taken care of, Eddie had spotted the shaky box. 

“We don’t know that,” Bobby said. “I’m calling it in.” 

Buck shrugged his shoulders. It was probably nothing. Maybe some raccoons were in there scavenging around trash someone had left behind. 

The box gave another shake and with it came the sound of—

“Do you hear barking?” Hen asked. 

“Wait, did someone abandon a puppy on the side of a road?” Buck asked and he rushed forward, Eddie at his heels. 

He was still careful as he popped the box open and yes, someone had definitely abandoned a box containing not just one puppy, but five. They were small wiggly little things that at the sight of someone peering in scrambled to the sides of the box, shaking the whole thing. Buck had no idea what breed they were exactly, but he thought they had to be some mix because they were all kind of curly. They were mostly blond, but they had white and black and brown mixed in too. 

“Puppies,” Chim said. 

“They’re cute,” Eddie said. 

“Adorable,” Buck added. “But who just abandons puppies like this.”

“Someone not very bright,” Hen said. 

Buck couldn’t help himself, so he reached in to grab one of them. The puppy wiggled but it came easily and weighed almost nothing at all. 

“Buck, don’t just — they could have fleas,” Hen said. 

Buck froze and didn’t bring the puppy any closer. 

Bobby approached, then. “Dispatch is sending animal control out. They’ll take them to a rescue and get them checked out.” 

The puppy Buck had picked up made a “woof” that sounded so cute, Buck couldn’t help but bring him closer. He immediately began to lick at Buck. 

Hen just shook her head, but she crouched to look at the remaining four in the box. 

“They’ll get adopted out quick,” she said. 

Buck pet down the back of the one he was holding. He was so soft and he was sniffing at Buck like crazy, it was all that Buck could do to keep hold of him because he wanted to be put down likely so he could run off. It was actually surprising they hadn’t managed to get out of the box. 

“They must not have been here very long,” Chim said. “You guys don’t even know. If Jee-Yun saw them she’d be begging me to bring one of them home.” 

Until that moment, it hadn’t crossed Buck’s mind that it was an option. 

“Why don’t you?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah, like I’d hear the end of it from Maddie. They are pretty darn cute though. Maybe when Jee’s older and can take on the responsibility of caring for a dog. Otherwise, who do you think will be doing all the walking and feeding? This guy.”

“What about you, Cap?” Eddie asked. 

Bobby laughed and shook his head. “Didn’t go over well last time I brought a dog home, did it?”

“That dog had the devil in him,” Hen said. 

Eddie nodded in agreement. 

“And you, Eddie?” 

Eddie shook his head. “Nope. Count me out on that.” 

Buck, who had previously never given too much thought to getting a pet, wondered if maybe he should try and adopt one of the puppies. They were cute enough and now that he’d moved in with Tommy it would even have a backyard in which to run. And maybe they could even get the dog used to going on runs with him and Tommy. Buck could imagine it easily. One thing stopped him though, it wasn’t just his opinion that mattered. 

“Buck?” Eddie asked. 

Tommy wouldn’t say no to a dog, would he? 

It wasn’t like they’d discussed it or anything, but between the two of them they could definitely handle a dog and it would even work out when their shifts didn’t align so neither of them was home alone. The more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on him. 

“I — I kinda want to take one,” Buck said. 

“Of course you do,” Hen said. 

“What is Tommy going to say about that?” Eddie asked. 

“I would need to check with him, but I think maybe…maybe this is the next step for us.” 

“A dog,” Chim said. 

Buck gave a nod. “Yeah. I mean, I know he likes animals. I’m not gonna just show up with a dog without asking him first, but maybe it’s a good idea. It’ll be—” he trailed off not wanting to say it out loud.

“It’ll be what, Buck?” Hen asked. She was crouched scratching the head of one of the dogs. 

“It’ll be nice when he’s on shift and I’m not and when I’m on shift and he’s not.” 

It wasn’t what he’d almost said, but no one either realized or felt like calling him on it. He did think that Bobby was giving him a knowing look. A dog was preemptive for kids. Good practice for when he and Tommy decided they wanted a family. If that was something Tommy wanted. If it was something that he wanted with him. Buck had always wanted kids, but if Tommy didn’t he didn’t think it was a deal breaker. 

Suddenly, a pit was growing in his stomach and he bent to pet the dogs some more. He couldn’t help but smile while petting them. 

“Buck,” Eddie said. 

Buck turned and found Eddie with his phone pointed at him. 

“And sent,” Eddie said with a grin. 

—

Tommy wasn’t used to being on phone as often as he was these days. He still read a lot during any downtime at work, but one of the first things he did when getting back from a call was check his phone. Tommy didn’t mind, he loved the rabbit holes that Evan’s research binges sent him down. It was also, absolutely true, that the 118 got itself into some situations that absolutely required recounting. 

So, when he climbed down from the helicopter right at the end of his shift, he reached for his phone to check and see if Evan had had occasion to text. 

Instead, he found a text from Eddie that had come in not thirty seconds earlier. 

It was a picture and in it Evan was leaning towards a box full of puppies. They looked adorable and with how curly and blond they were, Evan kinda fit right in. Tommy couldn’t stop looking at the picture. At Evan’s smile and at the dog that was preparing to take a leap at him. 

“Whatcha got there, Kinard? Boyfriend sending you nudes?” 

“No. Unfortunately,” Tommy said. 

Lucy cackled. He turned his phone and Lucy grabbed it from him. “Did he finally find his family or something?” 

“Funny,” Tommy said, snatching his phone back and continuing to the locker room. 

He texted Eddie back as he made his way to his car. 

Tommy: Cute. What’s with the puppies?

He was about to pull out of his spot when Eddie responded. 

Eddie: Someone abandoned them. They’re getting picked up by animal control now. If you don’t want a dog better start figuring out how to tell Buck no.

Tommy went back to the picture. The puppies sure were cute, though he’d argue that Evan was the cutest thing in the picture. He didn’t know how he and Evan could manage to keep a dog, but at the same time it wasn’t the worst idea. Back when he’d first moved into his house he’d been convinced that a dog was the thing he needed to make it complete. It was his schedule that stopped him from getting one because back then he’d been completing his flight hours and it just hadn’t made much sense when he was only really home to sleep. Tommy had never revisited it. 

His phone vibrated again. 

Evan: how do you feel about getting a dog? 

Attached was a picture of the dogs inside the box. They were all quite fluffy with huge eyes and ears that just kinda flopped on the side of their heads. Going by their size, they would get to a good size. 

Tommy: how long do we have to decide? 

Evan: a few days. 

What followed next was information about the rescue shelter that the dogs were being taken to. 

Evan: I told them we’d stop by tomorrow. 

They were going to get a dog, of that Tommy had no doubt. For his part, Evan had already decided, and while he was sure that Evan could deal with Tommy saying no, it would also break his heart. That’s just who Evan was. It was what Tommy loved about him. 

When he got home, he did a little bit of research. He couldn’t be completely sure, but it seemed like the dogs were golden doodles or some subset of that. He and Evan did have erratic schedules, but if they got the dog trained fairly well then maybe one of them could bring it with them to work on occasion. It was allowed, he’d found out, and not just for animals trained for search and rescue. They could get the dog certified as a therapy dog, though. 

By the time that Evan arrived home, Tommy had already put a number of things in his amazon shopping cart. Evan laughed and hugged him from behind when he saw it. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“For one thing I could tell you really wanted to do this. And I think we can make it work.” 

Evan immediately leaned down and pulled him into a kiss. “You’re the best. They were all taking bets on how this would go.” 

“I hope you put some money on me,” Tommy said. 

Evan just laughed. “So, let me show you more pictures. They really were cute.” 

There were about ten pictures. Some were of the dogs still in the box, but Evan also had pictures of them loaded up into the car that was taking them to the shelter. One had Evan holding two of the puppies. He looked absolutely smitten. 

“What did they say?” 

“I guess it’s not super unusual so they weren’t surprised when I asked about adopting one. They said since we did find them I could have first dibs at the shelter. They will be putting them up for adoption by the end of the week. I told them we’d come by tomorrow.” 

“So presumptuous,” Tommy said. 

Evan just smiled. “Even if you said no, I still would have wanted to see they were okay.” 

“I really don’t think there’s saying no to you, Evan.” 

Evan grinned at him. “I’ll admit I was a little worried you didn’t think we’d have the time for it.” 

“Well, I was thinking about that,” Tommy said. “Did you know LAFD allows dogs at the firestation? Not just service animals, but therapy dogs, and even pets. It’s kinda up to the Captain.”

“Really?” Evan seemed to light up. “That’s great. I think we can really do this, Tommy.” 

It took a few days and only a couple of visits. The hardest part was picking one out of the five, but in the end they settled on one of the male puppies. He was sweet and playful and pretty smart going by how quickly he’d caught on to fetch. The shelter made the whole process easy and sooner than expected, they were arguing over names while their new dog introduced himself to their backyard. 

“What about this dog looks like a Max?” Tommy asked. 

“That’s better than calling him Darcy,” Evan shot back. 

Tommy thought Darcy was a nice name and maybe he’d picked it because of Pride and Prejudice, but it wasn’t like he could name the dog Knightley after his favorite of Austen’s leading men.

“What about Teddy?” Evan asked. 

“Then we may as well call him Bear.” 

“Well if he’s going to be a firehouse dog maybe something relating to that.” 

“Blaze? No, that doesn’t fit.” 

Evan stopped and he grinned at Tommy, clearly he had an idea. “What about Captain?” 

It wasn’t a bad name except for how it was also a horrible name.

“Bobby’s going to kill you,” Tommy said. 

Evan just laughed. “It’s a good name! And we can just say that we were naming him after his grandpa. Cappie for short, so it’s not Cap.”

“I take no credit for the name,” Tommy said. “It’s all you.” 

“Captain!” Evan called out. “Is that your name? Is it?” 

The dog. Captain. He came running towards Evan, panting and wagging his tail. He bumped into Evan’s shins. 

“You know, Evan, if you get to pick his name then I get to pick the next time we have to pick a name,” Tommy said. 

“What does that—”

He saw understanding settle on Evan’s face. They had never talked about it. Before Evan, Tommy was pretty sure that he would have been entirely against the idea of becoming a father. It just hadn’t seemed like something he would ever have and he hadn’t exactly longed for it or anything. With Evan everything was just different. He made Tommy want things. He made Tommy have hope for the future and he wanted that future to include kids. Evan’s kids. His kids. 

Evan had an armful of puppy, but he leaned over and kissed him soundly and Tommy reached down to pet Captain. It really wasn’t a bad name. 

“Fine,” Evan said. “So we take turns naming our kids starting with this one.” 

[ghostface-knight]

After years of seeing "I'm very disappointed" on report cards, and hearing "Thank God your dad can just buy your way into college" from classmates, Stephanie Lauter had accepted that she was not smart.

It wasn't that she didn't like to learn -- when she was young, she loved school. Her favorite class of science. She loved learning about the world around her, and how it worked.

Miss Tessburger would pick her up after school in her dad's black Porsche, and Steph would immediately start explaining the things she had picked up from class that day.

"Did you know that insects make up half the world's known species?" She'd recite.

And each time, she'd be met with something along of the lines of, "Stephanie, your father is very busy today, so don't bother him with this nonsense."

She thought it was the fact itself. Maybe Miss Tessburger just didn't like insects! Steph knew her father was a very busy man, and so it made sense that she shouldn't bother him unless the fact was really worth it. So she'd try history facts. She'd tell Miss Tessburger about weather phenomena. She'd explain mathematical equations which, although not groundbreaking for an adult, were quite impressive for a child of eight years old. Each time, she watched for the hint that this time, it was worth telling her dad. And each time, she recieved the same, disinterested responses.

So, eventually, she came to the conclusion that the things she was learning in school where not important. Her father was very successful, and he didn't want to hear the things she was learning, so who was to say she needed to know them?

And so she stopped telling Miss Tessburger facts on the way home from school. She stopped reading for fun. She stopped paying attention in class.

That was when her grades started getting worse, but the school didn't notify her father unless she failed a class, and he couldn't be bothered to check each time Steph brought home a report card.

In a way, it was easier to slack off. She didn't have to consider the complex concepts she used to seek out. Pretty soon, she forgot the rush of exhilaration she used to get from learning. Pretty soon, it was like she had never cared in the first place.

So no, Stephanie Lauter was not smart.

And yet, when Peter Spankoffski tutored her, he treated her like she was Albert Fucking Einstein.

"So, the domain of f(x) cannot be zero." She worked out, scribbling on her loose leaf. She looked up at Pete, expecting him to correct her. Instead, he broke into a goody grin.

"You got it Steph! Composite functions have nothing on you." He looked over her work with admiration. "I'm not sure you even need me anymore. You know all this stuff."

Steph smirked. "Maybe, but I think I'll keep you around."

She turned back to her paper, but could clearly see Pete turning bright red out of the corner of her eye.

"Ah, see, I do need you. Because I have no idea what the hell this one is asking me to do." She pointed to an equation.

Pete leaned over, and read the equation out loud. "Find the inverse of f(x) = (x/2) + 7. Oh, this one's easy." He said, grabbing a pencil and starting to write.

"Easy for you to say." Steph mumbled. "You're in the hardest math class this shit-hole offers."

Pete looked up at her. "Not true! I'm in AP Calculus, and they offer Linear Algebra." He sighed, noting Steph's unamused expression. "Look, I only said that cause I know you know this."

"I don't though!" She groaned in exasperation.

"Yes you do! How do you find the inverse of a function?"

"I don't know!" She exclaimed.

"Steph, look at me." Reluctantly, Steph obliged.

Pete took her hand, and looked into her eyes with his own deep brown ones. She softened.

"Take a breath. You know how to do this, I promise. How do you find the inverse of a function?"

Steph took a breath and closed her eyes. "You- you switch x and y, then solve for x."

Pete's smile was the only confirmation she needed. "I told you that you don't need me." He said softly as she got to work solving the equation.

Steph considered it. "Either way, can you stay?"

And the doe eyes strike again. "Of course, Steph." He paused. "I'll always stay."

[theodorecanaryhood]

The ride or die

Jason Todd x Male reader

Jason has a boyfriend who is Bruce Wayne’s assistant.

Warnings: swearing, sex, violence and mentions of death

10 years flew by as you moved from place to place, spending some time in London, then Europe, then back to London. Moving to Gotham for work.

I guess you could say you were trying to find yourself, but it was not easy. Maybe you were running away, from yourself or something. But you felt ready to stay in one place.

Bruce Wayne took you in as his assistant around 7 years ago, then you worked your way up higher.

‘Good morning, would you mind passing this on to my dad please?’ The man asked, handing you a small file.

You smiled and nodded, taking it from the man. He stood tall, at least 6ft plus, big arms, big form, black curly hair, handsome features filled his face. His eyes pulled you in, they were bright but had a hint of darkness to them.

You’d always stood by that eyes are the gateway to the soul, and his told a story without speaking.

‘Sure, he’s just in a meeting but I’ll grab him when he’s free’ you replied, the man smiled as he seemed to take your form in.

‘I’m Jason, Jason Todd’ he introduced, holding his hand out to you.

‘Y/n y/l/n’ you responded by taking his hand, shaking it.

Jason stood leaning over the counter a little as he watched you, catching up with you a little.

‘Jason? I see you’ve met y/n’ Bruce appeared from his office.

Jason walked over to give his dad a quick hug and chatted, disappearing into Bruce’s office.

You spent the last bit of the morning catching up on some deals, organising meetings for Bruce. Occasionally hearing Bruce and Jason laughing I the office.

‘So, I will see you Friday for dinner’ Bruce said as he patted Jason in the back.

Both leaving the office, the two smiled as Jason headed toward the door, him winking at you before he left.

You blushed a little as you watched Jason walk away, hearing Bruce clearing his throat, you picked up the file and handed it to Bruce.

A black tie gala was all you needed right now, Bruce asked if you could come with him as part of a new promotion he’d offered you.

Bruce didn’t want you as his assistant anymore, he wanted you as a partner. A business partner, a man responsible for half of Bruce’s work.

‘Hello again’ Jason caught your attention, his black suit, black leather gloves, flower rested neatly on his jacket.

Jason looked very handsome in this form, he looked like a man who would steal hearts with a look.

‘Hi Jason’ you smiled back, the two of you stood beside each other as Bruce made his speech.

Bruce noticed the two of you talking a lot and getting drinks together, Bruce smiled to himself, he hadn’t seen Jason like this for a long time.

‘He’s gay, and single’ Bruce whispered to Jason quietly as the two stepped away to get a drink.

‘Why are you telling me?’ Jason asked as Bruce shrugged.

‘Just saying’ Bruce chuckled, Jason glanced over to you.

You sat at the bar and began talking to another man, older and well dressed. Jason was about to have a heart attack with how much he hated to see you talking to another guy all of a sudden.

Jason pulled you away from this older man and took a leap.

‘Can I take you out sometime?’ Jason asked, looking into your eyes.

‘Yeah’ you smiled, no hesitation in your response, Jason blushed a little as he leant down and kissed your cheek.

5 years had passed since this moment, 5 amazing years of you and Jason. Bruce refers to you as not only his business partner, but his son in law. Referring to you as this with pride.

It was a long drive through the roads as Jason sped in his Porsche, his sports car. Holding your hand, radio playing tunes as the two of you stared at the road ahead.

Jason’s skin was always the best feeling as you held onto his hand, it was another hour or so until you arrived at the hideout house.

You knew of the other lives, Bruce told you a few years back that he is Batman. Then you figured the others are Nightwing, Robin and so on.

Jason’s white muscle tee complimented his physique well, a physique you would never grow bored of.

The first time you saw Jason without his clothes was a blessing, he took his shirt off and you nearly fell with the sight in front of you. He took his underwear off and you almost screamed with the size. Jason’s manhood swung around as you saw, it would probably be the death of you.

Jason stared off into the distance as his head dropped to what he was doing, not even noticing that you were drifting into a deep sleep.

Jason gripped the steering by wheel as he glanced over at you, his boyfriend, fast asleep and dreaming.

Jason patted your knee as he allowed you to remain where you were, the sun falling down and turning the sky into a black night. The grey skies were filling the road, Jason figured he would need to take a break at some point, pulling over into a parking lot and filling the car with gas.

In these silent moments when Jason’s brain was his own, he remembered all the bits of his life that he tried to forget.

His death, his resurrection and all the things that followed. Jason distracted his brain by remembering all the memories with you.

After another round of driving, Jason parks neatly in the bay as he rushes out of the car. Opens the passenger door for you, holding his hand out and ‘princessing’ you out of the car, gives you a big kiss. Then Jason finishes it off by giving your ass a slap, the big one where he grips on impact.

The two of you get inside the base, a simple getaway for just the two of you. Escaping from Gotham for a night or two. Jason walking behind you so he can have the best view as you walk.

Jason wraps an arm around your waist as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, you managing to lock the door as you turn to face Jason.

���Fuck, you’re so cute’ Jason growls as he kisses you, deepening the impact t as he lifts you off your feet.

You wrap your legs around Jason’s waist, holding onto his arms as Jason kisses you, him smiling into it.

The feeling of the wall against your back and being pinned against Jason’s giant form, makes your groin ache for release, Jason knows this and has power over you.

‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard’ Jason pants in between kisses, you dig your fingertips into Jason’s muscles as he presses further against you.

Jason pulls your top off over your head as you do the same to him, running your hands down Jason’s body.

Clothes scattered all over the place as Jason pins you against the wall once again, shoving his length inside you, you threw your head back, eyes rolled back and big grunt.

‘Fuck, baby’ Jason moaned as he began to pump inside you.

Remaining where you were as Jason pumped at an unbelievable pace, you were floating in the air as Jason hit all the right spots.

Jason rested his forehead against your collarbone as he released himself inside you, you gasped as you felt his seed rushing inside you. Kissing the top of Jason’s head as he smiled.

Jason rinsed you down as the two of you stood under the shower, grabbing your face as he kissed you again. The steam from the shower filled the room.

Jason could never go too long without kissing you, he had to be touching you in some way. Jason loved without saying it too much, showing it was always Jason’s thing.

Black tank top, grey sweats and leaning against his Porsche, Jason lit a cigarette as you approached from the house.

‘Ready to go back home baby?’ Jason smiled as he blew smoke out of his mouth, you nodded as you kissed him.

Jason held the passenger door open for you as you got in the car, him finishing his cigarette before driving the two of you back home.

Hand resting on your thigh, you nose deep in a book, Jason listening to the light music from the radio. Jason smiled a little as he sat next to you, his love.