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saltsicklover · 7 months

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Title: Not a Cyclone, But a Monsoon

Part 2 of 2 - Completed

Find Part 1 HERE, and my Master List HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt, from the lovely @inkandarsenic

Romantic Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Platonic Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Fem!Reader

A few uses of Y/N

Word Count: This part: 14k+ Total Fic:20k+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, minor character deaths, labor, loss of a child in utero, abandonment, drinking, talks of God and destiny, swearing, general military talk and lingo, descriptions of food and eating, coughing fits, talks of violence, actual violence, blood, vomit and throwing up, mention of near death experiences. ANGST

---

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. The weekend before the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A cellphone is tucked between Monsoon's cheek and shoulder, the line trilling. She carries her duffle bags and kit, feeling like a battering ram as she makes her way through the crowd of people. The airport is packed and she can feel just how humid it is form how sticky she feels.

The hallways of the airport wind as she follows the crowd out of the baggage claim. The people around her move just a bit too slowly as they wheel their bags behind them, just begging for someone to trip over them if they dare pass. If there is one thing Monsoon did not miss about being at Top Gun, it's the trip in.

Fuck flying coach.

Fuck PSC Season and all of the families taking all the seats on the military flights.

Fuck the crying lady sitting next to her, who wouldn't stop sobbing at the shitty romcom she was watching, and fuck when she decided to start it over, just to watch it all over again.

But the best thing about coming back has to be seeing her surrogate father, Beau Simpson. Their relationship has only grown stronger since that night at the bar. They have spent countless meals together, drinking at bars when they are in the same place and always sending 'check in' emails. Phone calls have always been a bit dodgy between time zones and deployments.

Neither one knew exactly what they were getting into when the bond between them grew, neither really sure exactly what a parent/child relationship looks like, especially when the child is really an unrelated adult. But as the days went on, and the email chain got longer and longer, things seemed to just make sense.

The pair talked about everything, from work to dating, friendships and recipes. Cyclone opened up about June and their baby, sharing his favorite stories of their marriage. From how they started dating, to the day that June passed, Monsoon heard it all.

Calla lilies were June's favorite, the only flowers that Beau believes should ever be given to a woman, and Monsoon smiles at the memory of her graduation from Top Gun, and the way Cyclone smiled at her with the bouquet of lilies in his lap.

When Monsoon found herself in Vermont she carved out time to visit June and Baby Boy Simpson at the cemetery. She showed up with two bouquets of calla lilies and a speech to give them. Monsoon cleaned their headstones and laid the flowers delicately across their plots, speaking to them the whole time about herself, and Cyclone, and the world they live in.

Cyclone's phone buzzed in his pocket while in a meeting. When he snuck a peak, he was met with a photo of Monsoon, a light smile adorning her face as she sits just in front of the burial plots. The message read "With Mama June and Bubba, thinking of you, Pops". Cyclone had to excuse himself from the table with tears in his eyes.

As the years went on, the surfaces in Cyclone's office slowly began to fill with more photos of the two of them. The collection of frames started out sophisticated, it really did, but as time went on, the frames became more eclectic, more fun.

It's juxtaposes the rest of Cyclones office in a way that is almost comical. As he is shouting at someone for their latest fuck up, there are shelves full of silly frames just a few feet away. Cyclone's favorite just so happens to read "Clown College Class President" while Monsoon's favorite is one of those irregular shaped ones, with an oval opening for the photograph.

There is a photo of the two of them tucked in the cockpit of Monsoon's jet. It catches the mechanics off guard every time, but no one dare says a word about it- mostly out of fear that word would get back to Admiral. The photo depicts the two of them at one of those giant truck stops, posing with the large dinosaur sitting out front. She is sat atop of it, like a cowboy, with Cyclone leaning up against it, his shoulder near her thigh. They both wear larger than life smiles as the sun beats down on them. It was a silly thing, really. Both stuck in at little forgotten Air Base in middle America for a flight test, but the pair managed to make the best of it, remembering to take photographs as they went.

There is a postcard folded up in Cyclone's wallet. Once upon a time, it read the catchy saying "Why Not Minot?" printed across the front of it, with a cute little photo of a town square, a little forgotten town in North Dakota. It's one of those bases that people dread being stationed at, that much has always been true, but the little photo on the front of the post card sold a different tale. It wasn't the cutesy saying or the photo that made him keep it, the edges now worn and fibrous. On the back, written in neat blue ink, underneath a little blurb about how there is absolutely nothing to do in North Dakota, the sentence "I love you, Pops" sits next to a scribbly little heart.

The staticky, tolling, phoneline picks up after a few rings as Monsoon pushes around a family with one too many screaming toddlers. They have on those little backpack leashes and Monsoon almost gets close lined as a little dark haired child bursts in front of her without warning. She dodged, but she catches one of those damn rolling bags with her toe. Monsoon barely notices the glare the lady sent her way, but the lack luster wrath of a stranger isn't going to stop her.

"Hey, Kid," Cyclone greets over the line, the smile on his face evident through the sound of his voice. There is no need for an official "hello" to begin the conversation, both knowing full well that Cyclone had been watching the flight itinerary like a hawk to make sure Monsoon wasn't going to be delayed. The call upon landing is just expected at this point, though neither of them have mastered the cool,casual, its good to see you.

"I just landed," A woman walks right into one of the duffle bags hanging off of Monsoon's shoulders, throwing her completely off balance. She hikes the bag higher up on her shoulder, trying to rebalance the hefty weight she is carrying. Monsoon sways like she is at sea, attempting to get her balance back. There is something so familiar about the way she sways a bit, just like the jet carriers do as the waves bash against the metal of the hull.

"Fuck" she curses under her breath, steadying herself once again. For a Seaman, one might think Monsoon would have better balance. Cyclone rolls his eyes on the other side of the phone. "I'll be over for dinner tonight, if that's still the plan,"

"Sure is, I'm making your favorite,"

"Steak and potatoes are your favorite," Monsoon corrects.

"You can correct me without the side of guilt, you know," Cyclone is chuckling through the phone, earning him a roll of the eyes.

"I only meant to tease," There is a nonchalance to her voice, though she is the furthest thing from cool. Cyclone isn't either. His kid is coming home and they get to sit down for a meal for the first time in months and he is beyond excited.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at my rental, then I'll be headed your way, you better be ready for me to eat enough for a small village," Monsoon heads right for the exit, ready to look for a taxi. "And Pops, maybe think about adding a-" The word "vegetable" fails to make it's way out of her mouth as Monsoon looks up as the double doors in front of her slide open. Cyclone is standing on the other side, a large sign reading "WELCOME HOME KIDDO" sits loosely in his hand, the other holds his phone up to his ear.

It's like one of those cheesy scenes from a movie, both wearing matching grins and laughing. Cyclone knew the whole thing would be a surprise; he took a leave day to make sure he would bet there to pick her up.

"Pops!" The name still makes Cyclone's heart swell, even if he had been responding to that very name for the past few years. It's funny, really, how easy it was for the pair to adjust to the name, though Monsoon waited for him to acknowledge it first before she actually said it.

The acknowledgement came from a recorded phone message, shortly after her first move after her Top Gun Graduation. Cyclone got stuck in on the highway with a dead car and no cellphone. The call came in from a payphone, an unknown number. Cyclone left a message, "Hey, kid, it's Pops, my car died and I am stranded. I could use an assist. Do you know anyone in Missouri?". That message is still saved on Monsoon's phone to this day.

"Hey, Kiddo!" And then Monsoon is stumbling closer, her bags swinging her center of gravity all over the place. He reaches a hand out to take one, ready to throw it over his shoulder, but instead, each one hits the pavement with a hard thud. Monsoon is quickly wrapping her arms around his body, one over his shoulder, one under his arm, meeting around his back and squeezing him hard.

The hug is returned in kind, both damn near trying to squeeze each other to death. It's playful, as they share "good to see you's" and "I've missed you's" .

"I hope you don't mind, Kid, but I invited another one of the recruits to dinner tonight," He speaks the words into her hair. Monsoon pulls back to look up at her Pops with furrowed brows. She doesn't have to say a thing, he already knows exactly what is going through her mind.

"I know it's unorthodox, but, Kazansky said it might be a good idea, and when the good Admiral says something like that, you set another place at the table,"

"Yeah, unorthodox is definitely a word for it," Monsoon is pulling out of Cyclone's embrace, dipping to grab her discarded bags from the pavement. Cyclone grabs one before she can, which earns him a roll of her eyes.

"Be nice, would you?"

"To you or the mystery guest?" Her words are dripping with sarcasm.

"Preferably both," Cyclone chides, poking her in the side with the welcome home sign. She swats it away with a quick hand, both laughing.

"I'll see what I can do,"

---

The sun is setting over the horizon, painting the sky orange with wisps of pink the lower it sinks behind the curve of the Earth. Monsoon is spread out on one of the lawn chairs, relaxing, well, more like waiting out her Pops' little outburst. She had opened the grill to check on the steak, making sure the edges wouldn't be too crispy, and Cyclone all but snapped the lid shut in the middle of her investigation. He banished her to the other side of the patio to wait for the food to finish cooking. Then, and only then, would she be allowed to touch the grill again.

If there is one thing to be true, Cyclone has a method when it comes to grilling. Monsoon had it all explained to her the first time he grilled for the pair of them. He has it down to a science, all from the temperature and the kind of charcoal to use, to the length of marinating time and spices to make even the worst cut of meat from the Commissary the most perfect dinner.

And Monsoon couldn't exactly tell him he was wrong. After all, every single thing Beau had ever placed in front of her tasted delicious, delectable even. Not only that, but Monsoon really couldn't have done it better if she tried. Her Pops wouldn't let her try, either, but that is beside the point.

Soon, everything is pulled off the grill and the pair are inside, Monsoon tasked with setting the table. All of the windows are open, the evening breeze cooling the inside of the house. As she places another fork down, Monsoon takes in the way the breeze dances across her skin. Goosebumps threaten to crest over her exposed arms at the chill the air carries. In that moment, she is thankful for the California air, the smell of the freshly made sides sitting in the center of the table, and the fact that she is setting the table in her Pops' house.

It has been too long since the pair got to sit together and share a meal. Cups of coffee over video chat were no where near as nice and Monsoon couldn't lie, she missed Cyclone's cooking. As she sets down the last knife, Cyclone is bounding down the stairs. His causal jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a nice pair of brown slacks and a cream polo shirt, tucked in with a belt. He's even sporting loafers.

"Hey Pops, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight," Monsoon shouts down the hall. She tries to shake the bit of nerves rumbling through her chest like a handful of loan bees.

"Okay, kiddo," Cyclone calls back as he is rounding the corner into the kitchen, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, promise,"

"Okay," It's a simple response as he walks further into the kitchen. He pats her on the shoulder as he passes, a loving gesture.

"Got a hot date?" Monsoon chides as she looks him up and down. She sets the bundle of flatware down on the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," Cyclone is shaking his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her words. "We are having company tonight, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, but I didn't think some random Lieutenant, that is only coming over because the good Admiral all but ordered him to, was someone worth dressing up for."

There is a shrug of her shoulders as her head sways down nonchalantly. Cyclone crosses his arms, mirroring his kid, with a stern look on his face. It's a look that Monsoon isn't used to seeing out of uniform. Maybe it should worry her, but the vein that would usually protrude from his forehead is nowhere to be seen.

"Remember, kid, you too are just 'some random Lieutenant'" Those words stir a bit of anger within Monsoon, but it dissipates as fast as it came.

"Well then, Admiral Simpson, sir," Monsoon stands up a bit straighter, dropping her hands to her sides, "Let me find something more presentable to wear for the strange man who's crashing out family dinner," She grimaces a bit, but they both laugh. Beau is just laughing, in that way that make's his whole body shake, his eyes scrunched closed while whole hearted giggles escape his lips.

"Go on, kid," He waves in the general direction of the hallway, towards the front of the house where she dropped her bags by the front door.

The zipper of her duffle bag slide open easily, the separation of the teeth vibrating her fingertips. Monsoon fishes out a sun dress and a cropped sweater, something to keep her warmer as the sun sets below the horizon. It's a nice enough combination, something that will surly look like she gives a fuck about her appearance without looking like she planned too much. Monsoon changes out of her sweat shorts and t-shirt in the half bath, emerging looking like a brand new woman, though the feeling of the plane still lingers on her skin.

Just as she is stuffing her travel clothing back into her bag, the doorbell sounds throughout the house, the bells tolling just a bit too loud.

"Jeez, Pops, could that doorbell be any louder?" Monsoon is yelling just as she reaches for the door. She pulls it open with a swift movement, a smile on her face. Then it falls as soon as she sees who is standing on the other side of the threshold.

Clad in a button down shirt, one with a pattern that would rival any rodeo clown, with one too many buttons undone stands Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw; a man she hasn't seen since a deployment five years ago, about six months after she graduated from Top Gun.

There is a gold chain hanging around his neck. It's just long enough to graze over the tops of his collar bones. His shirt is untucked, the bottom a bit wrinkly, like he has tucked and untucked it a couple of times trying to decide which looked better. He made the wrong choice, by Monsoon's calculation, the patterned shirt covering the top of his dark khakis. He looks a bit silly, really, from the chain down to his boat shoes. The thing that catches her the most off guard though, is the fucking mustache he has decorating, no, vandalizing his upper lip.

Her own mouth hangs open just a bit, her hand tightening it's grip on the door handle. Bradley shoots her that mega wat smile, that million dollar, dentist office poster smile- the one that made her swoon all those years ago. But now, now it makes her fucking angry. Or maybe it's resentment that she feels boiling up inside of her, steaming her insides with a sort of sick feeling that she hasn't felt in years.

The last time this strange, queasy feeling flowed through her she was wrapped up in the white sheets of her mattress on an aircraft carrier, somewhere out in the pacific. Her naked body feeding off of the warmth of spot that Rooster once occupied. When she awoke, there was a feeling of contentment that spread over her skin, until she reached over to find the spot next to her cold.

Their deployment relationship ended with a fucking post it note, "Duty Calls" is all it read, scribbled down in a mess of black ink, the pen itself skipping. Hell, the pen couldn't even bother to work long enough to get a complete message through- their relationship simmered down to nothing more than steamy nights together in a twin size bunk while the ocean waves rocked against the carrier.

The contentment drained from Monsoon faster than than the anger could take over, and for a moment there was nothingness in the spaces between her ribs.

And now, Bradley fucking Bradshaw is standing on her Pops' front porch, smiling at her like nothing has ever happened between them, holding a bottle of wine, and somehow she is just supposed to let him in!

"Hello," He scratches at the back of his neck, his brows pinched together just the slightest bit. "Is this Admiral Simpson's house?"

Words are caught in the back of Monsoon's throat, each individual letter sticking her in the esophagus. Monsoon stands there looking at Bradley, each growing a bit more uncomfortable as the seconds go by. But, she is on the inside of the doorjamb, she has the upper hand. Just as she goes to slam the door in his fucking ugly mustache, Cyclone catches the door.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Beau booms, his tone friendly as he sends Monsoon a what the fuck look. She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, though it does nothing to relieve the rapidly growing headache that's taking over her skull.

"Come in, come in!" Cyclone practically ushers Bradley into the house. "This is my daughter, Y/N Mitchell, she is in the new Top Gun class as well!"

Beau is doing his best to defuse the tension in the room, between Monsoon's anger, and Bradley's overall discomfort from being in an Admiral's house, the vibes are askew. Bradley crinkles his brows at the information and Beau quickly jumps in with a chuckle, "No relation, but I claim her anyway. Introduce yourself, Son,"

"Brad-"

"We already know each other,"

The pair speak at the same time. Monsoon's tone is full of distain, like the words taste bitter and unforgiving on her tongue. She pushes past Bradley's outstretched hand and past Cyclone. Bradley can't help the fact that his face twists up in confusion as he wracks his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew her.

The woman's definitely too upset to be a recent fling- hell, Bradley hasn't even managed to bring a girl back to his place in such a long time. Deployment really limited his prospects and she sure wasn't on the mission he just finished.

"Please, this way," Cyclone guides Bradley back to the kitchen, taking the bottle of wine from the younger man. They follow the path Monsoon took, down the hall and back to the large kitchen. She is standing at the sink, her hands braced on the counter top.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Bradshaw. If you'll excuse me, I have to speak with my daughter for a second." Cyclone is moving before Bradley can acknowledge him. So, Bradley pretends to be very interested in the view just outside the kitchen window.

"What the hell, kid?" Cyclone carefully grabs Monsoon's elbow, leaning in just a little bit closer to fake some sort of privacy. He sets the bottle of wine on the counter. With all the tension blooming in the air around them, Cyclone decides alcohol is the last thing they need.

"It's complicated, Pops, just leave it be, okay?" Monsoon is running a hand through her hair, a shallow attempt to ground herself. "I can play nice for one dinner,"

"What the hell happened between you two? And it's not just one dinner, it's the next few weeks."

That fact is met with a grumble from Monsoon. It took her only a few seconds to convince herself that she would be able to make it though a dinner, but the idea of having to see Bradley fucking Bradshaw every day for the foreseeable future had a mixture of nausea and frustration swirling through her.

"Pops, trust me, this really isn't something you are going to want to hear about, nor do I feel like discussing it in your kitchen, at a whisper, while the man who doesn't even seem to fucking remember me is only a few feet away! No thank you," Monsoon pushes past Cyclone once more, picking up the bowl of salad from the kitchen island and bringing it over to the table. Cyclone is hot on her tail, speaking lowly after her.

"Y/N" That gets her to stop, Beau never uses her first name, "We are not finished discussing this,"

"After supper then," The words leave her tongue sharp, but they are met with a nod of approval. Then Cyclone is moving, ready for the night to move on as planned.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Cyclone is turning his attention back to their guest, a makeshift smile plastered to his face, "Please, take a seat, I am just going to grab the food off the grill,"

And then Cyclone is disappearing out the back door, leaving Monsoon and Rooster alone, the room already threatening to burst from the rapidly accumulating tension. Monsoon chances a look at Bradley as she finished setting out the flatware that had been left abandoned earlier, suddenly a little bit glad that her Pops hinted at her to change clothes. She looks good, that much she knows, if only it mattered at this point.

Maybe, if it mattered, Bradley would look at her and realize just how much he walked out on. Maybe he would see the way Cyclone cares for her, and their little family that they've created and know that he threw away his chance to be apart of it. If only he could see just how happy she is now- yet he doesn't even fucking recognize her, and that makes her heart burn like cheap kerosene. It's like gulping down saltwater, the feeling of being forgotten, drowning right out in the open for everyone to see.

As Monsoon is drowning in thoughts of Bradley, he is just trying to remember her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles that are smattered across her legs. His eyes wander over the frizzy bits of her hair, down the line of her shoulder and ending at the tips of her fingers. The way that she glances at him, her face still turned down as she adjusts the table settings, strikes him as familiar- but in a far off sense of the word. Familiar in the way his own face is reminiscent of his father's.

His father, Goose, and Maverick... Pete Mitchell... Mitchell!

"Mitchell?" Bradley breaks the silence, his gaze a bit wider, still locked on her downturned face. Monsoon's eyes shoot up at the name, locking with his dark brown eyes. They bore into her the same way they always had and a part of her aches.

"Are you-" The breath he sucks into his lungs burns a bit with hazy memory, "Are you Pete Michell's kid?"

An audible, pained groan leaves Monsoon's throat at the question.

"Not anymore," Are the only words she can manage, the flames of anger licking at her legs.

"But you were, once?" There is almost a ribbon of hope laces somewhere in his tone, but Monsoon pays it no mind. She walks away from the table, keeping her back to Bradley as she attempts to calm the heat of rage that's licking at her legs.

Why couldn't Bradley just ask her about normal things? Why aren't they talking about work, their partners, their friends. Hell, he could hit on her at this point and it would go over better.

If he wanted to talk about Maverick- Pete Michell, there were countless times when they were tangled up together in blankets, in the dark save for the crack of light breaking into the room from under the doorway.

He could have asked as they scurried up the stairs of the carrier, their gear smacking against their chests as they ran. Bradley could have asked then, as they bounded out into the early morning, salt soaked air.

Hell, Bradley could have asked over coms, high in the air as the wind whistled past their wings. They were just test flights after all, no enemy to contend with. He could have asked her then.

But he didn't.

"That was a very long time ago," She's turning to the fridge, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out. The sigh that leaves her lips is nothing but tension attempting to escape from the confines of her chest. It doesn't work, and Bradley doesn't catch the hint to just shut the fuck up and leave it be.

"We knew each other, right? When we were kids?" The question catches Monsoon off guard, almost as much as his initial presence did. She wants to laugh, really she does, at the ridiculousness of the situation.

He didn't remember that fact when they met on the carrier five years ago, and Monsoon tried not to let that bother her, especially when he was buried inside of her, moaning filthy things into her ear. But now? Now he remembers. But somewhere, the memory of their torrid love affair escapes the great mind of Bradley Bradshaw.

"Oh, for fucks sake,"

Though the whole thing is laughable; Bradley isn't laughing. He's holding his breath, too caught up in the scene in front of him, in the soreness of his chest and the way his heart thrums against the backside of his ribcage.

Fuck how his chest aches.

There is this part of his past, this piece that he once knew like the back of his hand, that's just in reach now- again, and Monsoon is laughing at him. The memory of her was erased with the sounding of artillery, the three volley's fired into the air. And now, he craves this memory like he craves the memory of his father, the pieces of his innocence having crumbling into his hands like ash.

It still stains his hands that sickly blackish gray, gritty against his skin, though he is the only one that can see it.

The sliding door opens once more and Cyclone is slipping though, holding a large platter of steak in his hand, the meat is grilled to perfection and he looks proud. Bradley looks at Monsoon with furrowed brows, questioning the words that she let slip past her lips. Cyclone steps between them, setting the plate of meat down on to the dinner table, more than enough food to go around.

"Please, Y/N, come and join us," Cyclone is pulling out a seat right next to Bradley, offering it to her. Reluctantly, she pads over, taking a seat next to Bradley who can't seem to take his eyes off of her face. He runs his hands up and down his pant legs, more out of anxiety than anything else. Cyclone takes a seat across from the pair, a tight smile on his face.

In any other world, it may look like a child introducing their significant other to their father, the way the tension hangs in the air between the trio. Cyclone awkwardly dishes himself servings of the food before passing it to Monsoon, who does the same before placing it down next to her, leaving Bradley to fend for himself. It's petty, that's true, but to Monsoon, it's a small act of defiance. A small fuck you for not remembering her, or the nights they spent together.

The Admiral knows something is going on right under his nose, just out of his understanding. He can see it in the way Monsoon shifts awkwardly in her seat while Bradley's gaze gets overly friendly with the plate in front of him. There's a question on the tip of his tongue, "kid, is Bradley your boyfriend?" but he knows better than to ask it. As he observes longer, he takes in the way his daughter tilts her shoulders just a little further away from Bradley, the arm closest to him resting elbow down on the table. The moment Cyclone notices the unpassed dishes sitting between the pair, he just knows.

"So," Cyclone clears his throat, "Are you two excited to be back at Top Gun?"

It's a reasonable question, very middle of the road. Monsoon opens her mouth to answer, but Bradley beats her to it.

"Yes, sir. It's good to be back stateside. Hell, it's good to be back on solid ground. I've been stuck on a carrier for the past nine months and I was beginning to lose my mind!" He's chuckling now, and Beau joins in right along side him, the deep chuckles of the men filling the air. "But you know how it can get on the carriers. It's hard to pass the time, no going to the bar with friends, no dating,"

Then, Monsoon's fork hits her plate with a metallic clank against the glass. No dating, yeah, right. Out of all of the things Monsoon pegged Bradley to be, a liar was not one of them, but then again not much could surprise her after the way he left.

"How about you, kid?"

"To be determined, Pops," The answer is genuine, spoken through grit teeth.

Maybe she shouldn't be so upset with Bradley's lack of remembrance for her. After all, it's not always the wrong time with the right person. Or the wrong place. Sometimes it's wrong, maybe he just didn't like her that much- more a deployment fling to get him through the lonely nights than a future.

"Well, I am excited you're back," Cyclone returns her direction, but Monsoon just shoves a fork full of salad into her mouth.

"Sir, can I ask what exactly they called us back for? And are there more of us?" Bradley asks between bites, his fork and knife busy against his plate.

"I am not obliged to share much, but I can tell you that fifteen of you have been called back, from varying Top Gun classes." The explanation leaves something to be desired, but both recruits are nodding on the other side of the table. Bradley eats another bite of steak, complimenting Cyclone on his grilling; Monsoon is just pushing the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork. It's easier than finding the appetite that was lost somewhere between the front door and the kitchen after Bradley's arrival.

"Are you teaching us this go around, Pops?" Monsoon's question is spoken quietly, in the middle of Bradley's sentence about his own grilling technique- there is no remorse for the interruption.

At her words, Cyclone visibly stiffens, his fork stilling on his plate. Then he's setting it down, eyes still locked with his plate. With a huff and a lick of his lips he looks across the table, met with two pairs of curious eyes. He knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't expect it to be quite like this.

"No, I'm not teaching," Cyclone takes another breathe, unsure who to make eye contact with, knowing the words he's about to say are not going to be received well, by either one of them. "We- Top Gun has decided to bring in-"

The doorbell is ringing loudly through the house, startling Cyclone in his seat. It breaks though the tension like a fucking bullet, the whole thing blasting apart on impact. The trio trade glances that last milliseconds, like someone just knows whos going to be standing on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it, Pops," Monsoon is already pushing out of her seat, placing her napkin next to her plate. She is a bit too eager to get away from the tension surrounding that table, not only from her question but from the way Bradley is basically staring out of the corner of his eye. Though she can't exactly see it happening, she can feel it- the way his eyes are boring into the side of her head, almost burning. She will take anyone being on the other side of that door if it means she doesn't have to sit in Bradley's swimming gaze any longer.

"No, you stay, I'll get it," Cyclone corrects, "You stay and chat,"

Then, Cyclone is pushing away from the table, heading right for the front door. He gives his daughter no time to protest. Cyclone leaves the slowly rebuilding tension behind him, and Monsoon is stuck having to sit back down, next to Bradley, left to simmer in it.

"We did know each other, right?" Bradley is quick to ask the moment Cyclone rounds the corner. It's a speed he's not used to- too used to sitting and waiting for the perfect timing that just doesn't come. But this isn't something he's willing to wait on, it's just something he has to know.

"Yes, Bradley, we knew each other. But that was a long time ago," Monsoon is shrugging, avoiding his eyes. The words should have hit him harder, from the way they all but flew from her lips, but the impact is almost gentle, like the comfort of them bore the brunt of it all.

"Do you remember my father?" The question is so innocent that it almost hurts; and Monsoon knows just how much throbbing pain there is inside Bradley. After one drunken night while on the carrier, he poured his heart out about his father, about how much he missed him and how he wished- hoped that Goose would have been proud of him. Monsoon sat and listened the to the whole thing, through the tears and drunken hiccups, reassuring Bradley that Goose would be proud of him.

After all, she knewhim, even if that was a million years ago- even if Bradley didn't know it.

She knows he would have been, because Goose was a good man.

A trait that seemed to have skipped over Bradley.

Good men remember their lovers. They remember their old friends. They remember the people who showed up to their mother's funeral- and have the decency to show up to their friends' mother's funeral.

Good men don't leave women in the dead of night, a break up message scrawled on a sticky note. They don't leave their friends to grieve alone. They don't forget.

"Yes, I remember him," Monsoon chances a glance at Bradley, unintentionally meeting his eyes. God, he's looking at her like she holds the fucking secrets to the universe and all she can feel is a sort of twisted up sickness, like her sternum is bound together with poisoned ropes. Bradley can see the stars that cling to her fingertips, the secrets to the cosmos, but can't seem to find the words to beg for their translation.

Cyclone is walking back into the room a second later, accompanied by another set of footsteps. Neither Monsoon nor Bradley look up when they walk in, both too busy staring at each other. Bradley looks curious, Monsoon looks hurt.

She looks away first.

A tall blond walks in behind Cyclone, his gaze focused on a set of files in his hand. He's reading over the top file carefully, running his free hand through his cropped hair. There is a toothpick in his mouth, resting between his teeth. Dressed in his tan uniform, his biceps are straining against the cuffs.

He's a Stetson model type, clean cut and masculine. The line of his jaw accentuated by the clean lines of his uniform. His jaw ticks with frustration as his brows furrow at the paperwork. There appears to be a word on the tip of his tongue by the way the toothpick bobs between his plump lips.

"Hey, guys, sorry for that, this is-" Cyclone swings his hand, introduction interrupted by twin gasps.

"Jake?!"

"Hangman?"

Hangman isn't sure who to look at first, but his eyes meet Bradley's form first, his eyebrows knitting together at the familiar face before shooting to his hairline when his eyes land on Monsoon sitting next to Bradley.

"Y/N, Doll! What are you doing here?"

Cyclone is whipping his head around in the way he might flip a jet. And Monsoon is pushing out of her chair again, ready to round the table and throw herself into the arms of the strong, blond man who just walked in, but her eyes meet the bewildered look on Cyclone's face, causing her to halt her movements. Hangman sets the paperwork down on the kitchen island, his eyes still locked on Monsoon, that damn smirk of his playing on his lips. Monsoon can tell he is holding himself back, fully aware of exactly who's house he is standing in, and the relationship between Monsoon and the Admiral.

It's been months since they've seen each other. Their goodbyes were said on the front porch of his little rental outside of Lake Hurst. Neither of them relished being in New Jersey, but they had each other and that's all that had mattered. They fostered a brand new relationship over a year, neither of them brave enough to label the nights spent together in that house.

Then new orders came down the pipeline, on a TS Need-To-Know. The pair were being separated with the flick of a pen. So, they labelled their year long relationship through tears standing on his stoop, the night the orders came down the channel.

They packed Jake's small house, and Monsoon's apartment, neither one knowing just what was to come. In the name of a temporary duty station, they got storage units next to each other, the closest thing to living together they'd be able to swing.

That was six months ago.

Monsoon did a little time in Pensacola while Jake got sent to Oak Harbor. Thousands of miles apart, their dates turned from late night dinners to quick conversations over the phone just to hear the other's voice.

Neither of them expected their reunion to be here, in Admiral Simpson's kitchen, with Bradley Bradshaw and the Admiral watching the whole thing, confused expressions written into their features.

"I got recalled to Top Gun!" Monsoon giggles a bit, her gaze still trapped with Hangman's.

"Me too!" The words leave Jake's lips and the pair are smiling. It's taking everything for them to hold themselves back from embracing each other, after months apart. Then, Cyclone is clearing his throat.

"Pops," Monsoon begins, clasping her hands in front of her, "God, this is weird. Remember earlier this evening when I said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

She had fully been intending on telling her Cyclone about her relationship with Hangman, in fact, she had been working up the courage for the past few weeks. But, Jake comes with a record, a reputation, and a respect problem, things Monsoon knows her Pops won't approve of.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?" The words are leaving Cyclone's lips almost too quick, but Monsoon is quick to reassure him that it is.

"Well, this isn't exactly how I saw this going, but, Pops, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake Seresin," Monsoon is gesturing to Jake now, a worried smile on her face. The pair know each other, of course they do. They had met the first time Hangman went through Top Gun. Cyclone was on instructor duty and Hangman didn't take overly well to being instructed; though he did finish top of his class.

Monsoon bobs up and down on the balls of her feet, the nervous energy flowing through her body. If she could push all the energy out of her and into the floor she would. Her soles grounding the electric current flowing through her, unapologetic and lightning hot. Monsoon would stand there in front of the three men who have played such a large roll in her life, back straight and eyes forward like the Navy trained her to do, if only she could coral that fucking energy and send it straight through the floor.

Monsoon bounces instead.

If she had the time, she could have prevented the look that crosses Cyclone's face. That look of you're not good enough for my kid that is so evident on his features. She knows that Jake saw it, clear as day from the way he almost winces. Everyone in that room knows the reputation that Hangman wears like a neon sign. The "voted biggest player" social life with the stellar callsign, the pilot known for leaving his wingman hanging, acting alone- selfish.

So much for putting off telling Cyclone; so much for easing him into the news.

Bradley is watching the whole exchange from his seat with his eyebrows raised, like a fucking soap opera but the whole spectacle's happening in real time. He lets his eyes shift from person to person, taking it all in. Monsoon looks hopeful, though she is waiting with baited breath for her Pops to blow a fucking gasket. Jake, on the other hand, looks absolutely cool. Though he is the reason for the interruption, and for the impromptu introduction, he is impossibly collected. Then, Bradley's eyes shift to Cyclone, who has backed up a few steps. He keeps looking between Monsoon and Hangman, like he is playing some sort of invisible game of connect the dots.

Hangman and his fucking reputation are courting his daughter, and Cyclone really isn't thrilled about the news.

Though Bradley isn't exactly thrilled to see Hangman here either, he's taking the whole thing in stride, as opposed to Cyclone, but the younger man can't exactly blame him. If it were Bradley getting this major bomb dropped on him, he wouldn't be sitting pretty, either. Bradley is bringing his glass up to his lips, his eyes still flashing between the trio.

"Monsoon-" Cyclone starts, but the sound of coughing interrupts. Bradley is coughing, choking on his water. He attempts to wave a hand, letting everyone know he's okay, but in reality, he's far from it.

Monsoon. The woman he left asleep in her bunk five years ago stands next to him now, and not only that, they fucking grew up together, at least for a little while. And she remembers his Dad, and she's Maverick's kid. And fuck, she's dating Hangman!

Things are moving just a bit too fast, and Bradley can't quite catch his breath between coughing fits.

The glass is quickly set back onto the kitchen table, but is sent over the edge as Bradley reaches for a napkin. The glass falls in faux slow motion, the liquid flowing from the cup as it hits the hardwood, shattering like a pinprick galaxy upon the floor. Bradley, still coughing, searches the new formation of cosmos on the floor for the answer to all the mixed up bullshit he has found himself in.

"Rooster?" Monsoon pats him harshly on the back, right between his shoulder blades. Then, she is rubbing his back, her hand full of warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin burns under her touch as he struggles to return his breathing to normal. There's still a knot in the back of his throat made of unsaid words and new revelations that he can't seem to swallow down.

"Rooster, are you okay?"

Hangman and Cyclone are quick to circle around the table, Hangman taking a knee next to Monsoon, his hand quickly finding her lower back. Cyclone is on the other side of Bradley, the glass crunching under his expensive leather loafers. Bradley is red from all the coughing, but an embarrassed blush still floods his skin from all the attention.

"Mons?" The nickname comes out all scratchy as Rooster wipes a newly formed tears from his eyes. The concerned expression morphs to hold a bit of shock before settling on some sort of mix of frustration and downright sadness. Monsoon tries to school her expression but her eyes still swim with emotion as they are locked with Bradley's.

"Yeah, Roos," Monsoon shoots his nickname right back, a confirmation that all but shakes the world around Bradley. She brings a tender hand up to squeeze his shoulder before pulling back, subconsciously leaning closer to Hangman, into the warmth of his hand on her back. She finds safety in her boyfriend's touch, the warmth of his skin pooling against her through the fabric of her dress.

The lack of contact makes Rooster feel cold, but the feeling is short lived as Cyclone is grasping at his other shoulder. A swivel of his head and Bradley is met with the furrowed brows of the Admiral.

"Are you okay, Mr. Bradshaw?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley responds, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I'm so sorry about the glass, please, let me clean it up,"

As Rooster stands, he is pushed back down gently by Cyclone, his hand still on the younger man's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it, please," And so Bradley is sitting again, in the center of the standing trio, feeling completely out of place. "As for the two of you, take a seat, we have some things to discuss,"

The sound of chairs being pulled out against the hard wood floor is accompanied by the intense ringing of the doorbell once again. The group look from person to person, once again looking for any clue as to who could be at the front door this time. Cyclone is padding over to the door, the crunching of glass less evident the further away her gets.

Bradley attempts to clear the lump in his throat, now without the luxury of his glass of water. Monsoon takes her untouched glass and slides it closer to Bradley, a barely there smile on her face. Her expression holds more sympathy than anything. Bradley takes the glass with both hands, a little too careful as he brings it up to his lips.

"Let me get you a plate, okay?" Monsoon speaks to Hangman, her smile clearly wider, brighter, more full of life when it's directed his way. "Pops will give me so much grief if he comes back and that spot isn't set,"

So, Monsoon excuses herself from the table, leaving the men sitting in apprehensive silence.

With a strong tug from Cyclone, door swings open and there is no time for a 'hello' as the man on the other side is pushing in, a wild look in his eye, a vein on his forehead bulging with frustration.

"We need to talk Simpson," The tone holds misplaced authority. Beau runs cold at the sight of Pete "Maverick" fucking Michell standing in his entryway, looking pissed off enough to catch a charge.

"That's Admiral Simpson to you Captain," Cyclone's teeth are grit so hard they might crack under the pressure of his jaw. "You cannot be here right now,"

The raised hand does nothing to stop Maverick from pushing further into the house. There's a folder in his hand, wrinkling under the closing of his fist. Sweat clings to the Admiral's brow, a vision of the crown of thorns, droplets running down the side of his face. It might as well have been blood from the way his stomach twists as Maverick steps closer to him, pushing the paperwork, right against the center of his chest.

"Do you know who got recruited for this mission, huh?" The words are dripping with venom, "Do you realize who you've chosen for this fucking death wish of a goddamn mission?"

Captain Michell's tone is all accusatory and full fury. He's pushing into Cyclone's chest harder, his knuckles white under the pressure. Cyclone grabs at the older man's wrist, his own knuckles paling as he squeezes.

"Captain, I will not repeat myself, you cannot be here,"

"Who is it, Pops?" Monsoon is calling from around the corner, her voice full of curiosity. Cyclone isn't a praying man, especially after what happened with June and their sweet baby boy, but now Cyclone is praying to every god, every deity that crosses his mind, even those who's names he cannot recall, that his daughter will not walk around the corner to see Pete Mitchell standing in his entry way.

"Nobody, kid, I'll be there in just a moment," He calls before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. He tightens his grip on Pete's wrist before he's wrenching it away from his chest. He pushes it back into Pete's own chest, leaning in close, "My daughter is not to see you here, leave. Now."

One might think Maverick would get the hint, since he pulls his hand from Cyclones grip. But then, Maverick is throwing open the file, pointing at the first page's photo. There is so much frustration in the action, it bounces between the two men like they're sounding boards, building and building.

"See this? Jake "Hangman" Seresin? You really want to send somebody in the sky who has a pension for leaving their wingman? You want to send someone into the air with a guy like him when the mission is already guaranteeing a loss of life?"

That catches the attention of the trio in the other room. All motion stills as they strain to hear more.

Wide mouthed, pointed tongue, Maverick is yelling without a care in the world. It doesn't matter who hears as long as Cyclone is hearing it too.

"And how about this," The paper tears as Maverick turns the page, "Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. You know about his father. You damn well know about Goose and you want to send his son to an early grave too?"

Jaws tick, fists tighten. Cyclone breathes deeply, thinking- choosing his words carefully as the older man continues to scream. It's not beautiful or noble like books would describe. There is no gift from God, no blessing, no one anointed with the ability to see into the future, to see just how this is going to play out. Instead, it's just words exchanged between mortal men, both too damn stubborn to back down with knives to each other's throats.

"And check out these two," Maverick is laughing now, leaning in closer to Cyclone, his breathe reeking of whiskey. Cyclone can see the way Maverick's eyes are bloodshot and weepy as he pushes him back. Sweat coats his skin leaving him clammy to the touch.

"Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Robert "Bob" Floyd," Another strangled laugh escapes Captain Mitchell, "You really think this scrawny kid and a woman are up to the task at hand? Really? I can think of at least five better pilots and Wizzos who are better qualified than these two. And look! She's the pilot! Hell, I don't even know how they made it through Top Gun the first time around! The fucking Navy is getting soft."

"It's time for you to go, Captain Mitchell. Sober up. We will discuss this on Monday," Cyclone puts a hand to the older man's shoulder, attempting to usher him out without too much force. Cyclone can't risk Maverick being in his house any longer. He has already been gone too long and his guests are likely getting curious. "Time to go, Pete,"

"But, Cyclone, you haven't even heard the best part," Maverick can barely get the words out through drunken laughter. He's turning the page with clumsy fingers, the paper tearing under his touch.

The trio, Rooster, Monsoon, and Hangman round the corner as Cyclone is attempting to usher Maverick out the front door. They watch as the Maverick stumbles out of Cyclone's grip and further into the house.

"Pops?" Monsoon speaks as the strange man hits the floor, laughing as he does. The file has fallen open, scattering pictures of the newest Top Gun brain child called The Dagger Squad. They sit scattered all over the entry way like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes go to the paper that falls near her feet.

"Well if it isn't the prodigal child," Maverick speaks, pushing himself further off the floor. "How many strings did you have to pull to get your own daughter onto the squad? Are you trying to send this kid to an early grave like the last one?"

The three Daggers stand speechless. Monsoon is quickly folded under Hangman's arm, her face pressed into his chest. Rooster stands just off to the side of them, his eyes flashing to Monsoon.

The arguing doesn't stop.

"Shut your mouth," Cyclone spits, "You don't know a goddamn thing,"

Maverick stumbles to his feet, standing up at straight as possible to get into Cyclone's face, just to taunt the younger man.

"See, Admiral, that's not true, now is it? You and I both know that she isn't actually yours and this would be an easy way to get rid of her, right? Send her back to-"

His words are met with a swift punch to the face, the cartilage of his nose crunching under Cyclone's knuckles. The punch feels good, like it had been coming for a long, long time. Like it had been building within Beau Simpson for years, every single time Maverick missed out on a celebration of the amazing life Monsoon is leading. For every birthday, every graduation, every reenlistment and promotion ceremony, Maverick missed it all, and the rage built inside Cyclone. Now, it finally came out, popped like a Champaign cork, blood instead of the fizzy alcohol dotting itself over Cyclone's entryway.

A warm hand slips into Monsoon's; Bradley stepped closer, clutching onto her. He recognized Pete Mitchell the moment he got a clear view, both his anger and anxiety flaring. Bradley squeezed her hand once, nice and strong, before dropping it once more, stepping in front of her and Hangman.

"Captain Mitchell," Bradley begins, his voice firm, full of hurt.

The words make Monsoon's head spin. She leans away from her boyfriend's chest to get a better look at the bloody faced man and it sends a chill down her spine. Her Dad who she hasn't seen in years is now standing in a room full of people who can't fucking stand his existence. It's a fucking miracle that all he has is a bloody nose.

"Bradley," Pete spits a little bit of blood as he speaks, looking up at the younger man. He reaches a hand out, but it's dodged. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm not your son. It's time for you to go," Bradley is ready to grab Pete Mitchell by the collar and haul him out of the house. He's ready to throw him onto the lawn and leave him there to spit blood and sober up enough until he can walk himself home. Bradley has his own selfish reasons, his own grudge against the Captain, and now would be as good a time as any to feed into that frustration that he's been stewing in for years.

"I'm calling Admiral Kazansky," Cyclone declares to the room, then he's spinning on his heel the moment Bradley takes a step closer, clearly putting himself between Maverick and Monsoon.

The Admiral is ordering Hangman to move, to take his daughter anywhere else so that she doesn't have to see any more of the disaster that the night has turned out to be. He doesn't want her to see him throw Maverick out- hell, he didn't want her to see him punch the older man, but there's no going back in time.

As much as Cyclone wishes he could have protected her from this, he couldn't. One can't stop a speeding bullet, as they say, and the shot had already been fired the moment he pulled open the front door. And as much as he doesn't want to, Cyclone has to trust Hangman with his daughter, he just has to, now.

So, Hangman is all but carrying Monsoon away as she fights to stay put. She misses the order from her Pops, her blood thrumming too loudly through her ears. Hangman takes her through the house, dodging the pile of glass still glittering on the hardwood in the kitchen, hauling her out the backdoor and right to his truck. Monsoon flights the whole time, though it's unclear as to her reason to want to say behind.

The pair are pulling away from the house as Bradley and Beau are hauling Maverick out to the front lawn, his nose still pouring blood.

Jake drives in the direction of his apartment, holding onto her hand the whole time. He squeezes it reassuringly though there isn't much he can assure her of at the moment. Neither of them know what's going to come of Maverick, or of Cyclone's heated action against him. They don't know if Bradley is going to get caught in the crossfire, or if they are going to get called into the MP's office sometime in the middle of the night.

There is no clear answer, so, Hangman squeezes her hand and drives.

And drives.

As far away as he can get from that house, that situation, the feeling in his chest spurred on by the broken look in Monsoon's eyes.

He drives until the sun crests over the horizon. Pulling off onto the side of the highway, Hangman kills the headlights, the world around them just beginning to come to life. That's when the tears come, falling fast and hard from the pools of Monsoon's eyes. Hangman just holds her there, inside of the truck.

The world around them awakens as Monsoon's falls apart, crumbling like unquenched Earth between her fingers. Maybe that's what the whole situation is, after all, how many times have the great authors related relationships to gardens, to plants, to life. Without nurture, without care and tending, the soil dries out, the plants die. The whole garden becoming a wasteland for the decaying plant matter; the soil turning to clay as the days roll on.

But isn't decay an unescapable fact of life?

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. Two weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Hangman had completely expected to pretend like the whole fight at the Admiral's house didn't happen when he met up with the other recruits at the bar, save for Monsoon. He took a little too much joy ordering drinks for the team on Maverick's tab- the older man not seeming to remember him from the incident, even after Hangman sent him a wink and a "thanks, Pops,".

When Bradley strutted in like the world was full of golden promise, Hangman took it upon himself to act like it was the first time they had seen each other in years. Bradshaw was quick to get the memo: last week didn't happen.

There's no surprise that Maverick got thrown out of the Hard Deck that night, either. Hangman sure as hell wasn't expecting to be the one to throw Maverick out of the bar, but that part gave him a sense of pride that he can't quite put words to.

The feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched Maverick hit the sand. A wide smile spread across his face as he yelled for him to "come back anytime," if that meant getting more free alcohol and the chance to throw him out again. Then, as Hangman closed the doors behind him while Rooster began one hell of a rendition of "Great Balls of Fire", everything felt like it was going to be okay.

Oh boy, how wrong he was.

Tensions are high now, Hangman and Rooster's rivalry is back and stronger than ever. They have been at each other's throats since that night at the Hard Deck, though the reason wasn't the mission or the usual dick measuring contest, even if the other recruits would say that it is.

They have been battling it out over a woman. Monsoon, specifically. The team doesn't know about her involvement with Hangman, and the pair try and keep it that way. So, she sits in the back of the classroom, right behind Yale and does her best to pay attention. The mission seems more impossible by the minute, the deadline has been moved up, and nobody has been successful.

Rooster and Maverick argue about the plane vs the pilot and how he had been the only one to make it to the target, though it was a minute late.

Then, Hangman opens his fucking mouth, living up to that reputation of his. "It's no time to be thinking about the past,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rooster's expression is unreadable, though his brows twitch.

"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man!" Hangman continues through Maverick's pleas, "Or that he was the one flying when-"

Rooster is out of his seat in a matter of seconds, launching himself at his fellow Lieutenant. Hangman took it too far this time. Rooster gets one good push in before the rest of the squad are separating the two hot headed men from each other, everyone yelling for the fighting to stop.

Everyone but Monsoon, who sits in the back staring at the fight in front of her and can't seem to make herself move.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, hey, I'm cool, I'm cool," Hangman reassures, pulling out of the arms of his teammates.

"He's not cut out for this mission, you know it... You know I'm right." He gets up into Bradley's face, a fucking smirk on his lips. The others are still holding Bradley back as he calms down, but it's that fucking smirk that spurs him on.

Bob's hands slip from Rooster's shoulders as he gets into Hangman's face. "You think you can talk shit about my family when it's your girl that's got the most fucked up situation of all," Bradley keeps his eyes trained on Hangman, but the blonde's eyes tick to the side, in the direction of Monsoon, who is still in her seat. It's Bob who notices the way Hangman's eyes shift, and he's the first person to look in Monsoon's direction. Then, Bob's nudging Phoenix.

They watch as Monsoon tenses in her seat, her jaw ticking. Her hands grip the arms of her chair, knuckles white. Then, Bob and Phoenix turn their attention back to the men as the screaming match continues.

"I'm not the one who broke up with her on a goddamn post-it note, Rooster," Hangman points out with a raise of his brows, that stupid little smirk still evident on his lips. Rooster is bringing his hands up to his temples, his expression scrunched.

"You son of a bitch," Rooster is cursing at him through grit teeth, his voice low.

The crowd of Aviators are still gathered around the two men watching them fight, Maverick's eyes flicking between them as words are exchanged. His mind flashes back to two weeks ago, when he broke down the Admiral's door and saw them standing there with Cyclone. He suddenly flashes his eyes back to Monsoon, only to be met with her piercing glare.

"What? Was taking her father for yourself not good enough for you? Did you have to break her heart too?" Hangman questions, watching as Bradley's face contorts, "You're just pissed because not only could you not keep your shit Rio of a father around, you couldn't keep the girl, either,"

"That's enough!" Monsoon shouts, her eyes finally leaving Maverick. The Daggers' eyes are locked on Monsoon at the back of the makeshift classroom, anger evident on her features. Then, with her hands firmly planted on the table in front of her, she is pushing up from her seat.

"Seresin," Monsoon begins, turning her eyes to him, "First, you will not speak about my uncle that way. Goose was a good man and a damn good Rio. Uncle Nicky would have moved the fucking Earth for Bradley, or for Maverick, or for me and my Mama, don't you dare think anything different."

Monsoon is moving closer to the group now, taking each step slowly, methodical as her words. There is a large, yellow envelope tucked under her arm as she approaches. She had been sitting with that envelope since their first class, no one having even the slightest idea what's tucked inside.

"Secondly, Rooster, my relationship with Jake is not your business, not now, not ever. What we had was over the moment you wrote that post-it and walked out the door. You didn't even remember the fact that we grew up together, for fucks sake. I get it, I was your little deployment fling, and that's all. Now, you get to live with the fact that's all I'll ever be. Hangman put you in your place, now say in it."

The crowd is too stunned to speak, but there is a rumble of laughter that escapes Maverick. He doesn't even try to hide it, thinking the tension in the air would be enough to cover it. But then, Monsoon is turning her pointed gaze to him.

"Finally, Captain Mitchell," There is a sick little smirk on her lips as she says his name, "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, Bradley had to get his pension for forgetting women from somebody."

Monsoon is standing toe to toe with Maverick now, eyes locked in on his, "After all, I've been in this class for what, two weeks, and I know you have had the roster for longer than that, considering that little stunt you pulled at my Pop's house. You think it's funny to forget someone when your own flesh and blood is standing right in front of you?"

Maverick furrows his brow, head cocking to the side. Monsoon can practically see the gears turning in his head with the way his eyes move across her features. She breathes deeply a couple of times, letting his mind piece the puzzle together.

"I asked you a question, but go ahead, take your time," Monsoon leans in just a fraction further, "After all, I'm told I look more like my mother, anyway," Wide eyes from the man in front of her stir out a strangled giggle from her chest.

"Wha- bu-" Maverick flounders, his mouth opening and closing, no words forming on his lips.

"Hi, Dad," The name is said with so much venom as she pushes the envelope against his chest with enough force to make him stumble. Monsoon doesn't wait for him to recover before she is turning to walk down the aisle of the makeshift classroom, paying no attention to the stares, the eyes burning holes into the back of her head. Instead she focuses on the momentary feeling of lightness that washes over her as she leaves the hanger.

It isn't until Monsoon rounds the corner that the tears begin pricking at her eyes. She takes off running as soon as the first one hits her cheek, the only thing she can hear over the rushing of blood in her ears is the thunking of her heavy boots on the pavement.

The Daggers stand looking at Maverick. He's holding the envelope to his chest, unsure of the emotions wracking though his body. Then, with a quick hand, he's crudely tearing at the envelope. The contents pour out over the floor of the hanger, looking just like that night at Admiral Simpson's house. Maverick tries to push that thought from his mind as his eyes focus in on the papers covering the floor.

Birthday Cards. Children's birthday cards.

The same ones he wrote to her for her first ten birthdays. He can't even get himself to bend down to pick one up, his neck aching from the way he stares down at them. He notices the little circles of wrinkled paper from long dried tears and his heart fucking breaks.

The image of Monsoon at four, at seven, that he can see clearly in his mind, but there's a gap missing. Still, Maverick imagines her sitting and rereading the cards at seventeen, at twenty-two, crying over them and the father she could barely remember. Tears prick at Mavericks eyes and he lets them, making no attempt to wipe them away.

It doesn't take long for the Daggers to figure out that the pile of cards is noticeably small, no more than nine or ten cards on the ground, though no one is near brave enough to say anything.

Moments like this remind Maverick he's still just a mere man. No matter how many records he breaks, aircrafts he tests, or brushes with death he encounters, Maverick is nothing more than a man with a skill set. He has flaws. He makes mistakes.

That fact is almost too much for him to take.

The memory of Goose flashes through his mind, the moments leading up to the failed ejection birth the feeling of ocean water weighing down his flight suit, soaking into the padding of his helmet as the water washes over them. So much blood where there should be none. And then Maverick is thinking about cleaning the scraped knees of his daughter, the blood bubbling up through the road rash. The tears, then, were hers as she begged, "Daddy, not the ouch-y cleaner, I don't like it,". But Maverick cleaned her wounds with the alcohol anyway, only to end up holding her against his chest in the same way he would hold Goose in less than a year.

Maverick's mind is a patchwork quilt of shit memories; stuck reliving them all, fragment by fragment.

"Class dismissed," Maverick manages, his eyes still glued to the floor. The sounds of fourteen pairs of boots, first loud then quieter as they go, leave the hanger, leaving him standing there, looking at the past he threw away illustrated simply in faded and forgotten birthday cards.

The hands of the clock circle once before Maverick moves. He walks right over the pile, his boots leaving angry, dark tread marks across the colorful paper. He doesn't look back once, not at the pile of cards, not at the hanger, not at the base.

He drives straight for the Hard Deck. It's the only thing he can think to do, and after all, maybe Penny has some sort of advice. She's the only person he actually knows with a kid- a daughter.

Maverick only makes it half way before he has to pull over. Quickly, he throws himself off his bike, his knees hitting the dirt as he empties the contents of his stomach. As a pilot, he should have a stronger stomach than this, but a choice he made almost eighteen years ago is coming back to haunt him.

He can still see Monsoon's eyes in the forefront of his mind. They haven't changed a bit from when she was a kid, Maverick realizes, as he's sat back on his haunches trying not to puke again. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing at the feeling of his swirling stomach.

Maybe he should have stuck around, or at least circled back when he wasn't on deployment. After all, Maria left messages on his machine for almost two years after he up and left. It started with her begging to call which slowly turned into begging him to at least send a fucking birthday card. So he did.

Then, she stopped calling, and he stopped writing. Monsoon grew up.

It would be so easy to blame Maria. When she stopped calling, he stopped remembering. Between deployments and missions, flight tests and ceremonies, Maverick could pretend that it all got lost in the shuffle. But then, he remembers Maria and the way she always seemed to flawlessly manage her Naval carrier with raising their daughter, how she could juggle it all without his help when he was deployed and it was all okay. At least that's what he told himself.

So, he thought if she could do it alone already, no harm could come from putting in for extra duty. That turned into extra deployments, more time away from home. He knew it was all a lie, but he had to tell himself something to justify it.

It did get easier after a while, as his daughter slowly slipped to the back of his mind. It wasn't until one day, six years after he left that the realization hit him. Maverick hadn't thought of his daughter in months. He should have felt more guilty; he drank himself sick at the thought.

Two years later Maverick didn't even realize he missed her eighteenth birthday.

Or her twenty-first.

Over the years he convinced himself he did the right thing. That part of his past became a distant memory that he told himself he didn't miss. Maverick would be lying to himself if he still believed that to be true in this moment, sat on the side of the road after having been faced with the consequences of his long forgotten actions.

Maverick kept one constant reminder playing on repeat in his mind all those years, You can't be a bad father if you aren't there to be one at all.

And for the first time since he walked out, Maverick thinks he may have been wrong.

He sits on the side of the road until the sun sets, stewing in his misery. When he manages to pull himself back up onto his bike, he heads for home, knowing that if Penny knew the whole story he would be on the outs with her, too. And so, he drives slowly, back to an empty house, wishing for the first time in years that it wouldn't be empty when he got there.

---

When Monsoon finally reached Cyclone's office, eight blocks from the hanger, she almost collapsed in the entryway of the building. But, she pushed through the crowd, ignoring the calls of his assistant who insisted that Cyclone could not be interrupted while he was in a meeting. Monsoon couldn't find it in herself to care.

When she pushes the door to his office open, she is met with three pairs of eyes. Iceman, Warlock, and Cyclone's eyes meet her frame. She is breathing heavy from the mix of running and sobbing, though it's unclear as to which is causing the redness in her cheeks.

"Excuse me, recruit, but you can't-" Warlock starts, closing the file sitting in his lap. There is an edge to his tone, not taking too kindly to being interrupted.

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Cyclone is cutting off Warlock without a second thought. The moment he moves out from behind his desk, Monsoon is throwing herself into his arms, her barely contained tears now overflowing. Without a second thought, Cyclone is folding her into his arms, doing his best to hold her shaking form.

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her," Cyclone's assistant huffs, running a hand through his hair. Cyclone waves the younger man off, the door closing behind him with a click. Then, Cyclone is wrapping his daughter tighter in his arms, one hand coming up to rub between her shoulders while the other is wrapped securely around her waist.

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but the meeting will have to be continued another time," Cyclone speaks, his tone clear, unwavering. Warlock shakes his head but gets up to leave anyway. Iceman follows after him, nodding a sort of good luck to his fellow Admiral before closing the door behind him.

"Tell me what's wrong, kid," Cyclone is pulling back, his hands squeezing at her shoulders. Monsoon is rubbing at her cheeks, smearing her tears over the expanse of her face. It's the same ugly cry she had when they first met, and the connection make's Cyclone's heart twist.

"I-" She starts, sentence interrupted by a hiccupping gasp, "Everything is falling apart,"

Monsoon tries to wipe at her face again with her hands, but Cyclone plunges a hand into his pocket only to offer her a green pocket hanky a second later. She takes it with unsteady fingers, her heart still thrumming a mile a minute.

"Hangman and Rooster got in a fight in class. Jake said a shitty thing about my uncle Nicky, Goose, you know?"

"Bradley shoved Jake, which isn't exactly a surprise, but then he told everyone that my family situation is all kinds of fucked up, which it is, but it's nobody else's business. God, Pops, I know now that I made a mistake when I started seeing Rooster while we were on deployment together, but God, that was five years ago! It's in the past!"

Cyclone nods at her, listening intently while trying to keep calm. So much new information is being thrown at him with each sentence that leaves her lips and it makes him angry.

"Worst of all, though," Monsoon wipes at her nose with the hanky, "Maverick knows,"

"He knows?"

"I told him," She confirms with a whimper and a nod, not daring to meet Cyclone's eyes. If she managed to meet them, she would have been met with nothing but rage boiling behind his irises, red hot flames behind the dark brown of his eyes.

"I had to, everything was already coming out anyway," She laments.

"What did he have to say for himself?" The question is asked through grit teeth as he pulls her body tighter against his, a move meant to feel protective but does nothing to quell the flames burning Cyclone from the inside out. All Monsoon can do is shake her head "no" as she sobs against the denseness of his chest.

"I'm gonna kill him" is all Cyclone can think as he rests his chin against her hair. His jaw ticks as the flaming feeling overtakes his body. If he could, he would strip Maverick of every single one of his achievements, his medals, his rank. He would cut the older man down so far that he was nothing more than a civilian with a dishonorable discharge.

But he can't.

So instead, he holds his daughter as she cries. He lets her tears soak the tan fabric of his uniform top, the buttons scraping against her skin. He rubs her back and whispers into her hair, promises that everything will be okay.

---

Somewhere in the Pacific. The Uranium Mission. Three weeks after the organization of the Dagger Squad.

Moments after the Uranium mission is completed, the team piled on the aircraft carrier, all grateful to be alive. Monsoon and Hangman got sent up to shoot down the enemy aircraft, saving Maverick and Rooster. The whole thing left nothing but swirls of confusion and gratitude in Monsoon's heart.

On one hand, she is so thankful that everyone made it back home. There will be no funerals, no folded flags and no Taps to be played. Instead there will be celebrations, beer and cheering and one too many speeches for a job well done. The whole thing should be liberating as their impending doom has been starved off for the time being, however there is still a feeling of anxiety sitting heaving in her chest.

Now, Monsoon is stuck watching the pair climb out of the museum piece that they managed to land on the carrier. The wind is whipping past them as she watches the team embrace the two men. Her strangled feelings clog her chest as she makes her way into the fray, first approaching Bradley.

"Glad to have you back on the ground," Monsoon shouts over the crowd.

"It's good to be back, even if it's not quite the ground," Bradley attempts to joke, "But seriously, we owe everything to you and Hangman,"

"Nobody left behind," Monsoon holds her hand out to Bradley, a gesture of good will.

"Nobody left behind," Rooster echoes, taking her hand in his own.

As they shake hands, a sort of understanding forms between them. They share a look, one that reads no hard feelings and Bradley almost tears up. Then, they are pulling back from each other, sharing one last smile.

Monsoon watches Bradley disappear into the crowd, his tall frame quickly swallowed up by the sea of uniforms. She catches him shake hands with Hangman a moment later, the scene bringing a small smile to her lips.

Then, Maverick catches her eye, standing a few yards away. There are tears shining in his eyes, but he makes no effort to move forward. They share eye contact for a moment as people move between them. Monsoon offers him a half smile, her brows lifted just slightly. Before Maverick can return it, she nods at him. He nods back, then it's his turn to watch her disappear into the crowd.

It's not quite an understanding, but maybe it's a truce.

At the risk of breaking her own heart, Monsoon chances a look over her shoulder. She watches as Maverick pulls Bradley into a hug, or maybe it's the other way around, it's hard to tell with the swarming of bodies. Either way, the pair wear bright smiles as they embrace and Monsoon doesn't even try to fight off the tears that make their way to her eyes. They aren't tears of anger, no, they are tears of gratitude. Grateful that they all get to live another day, grateful that Maverick and Bradley are giving each other a second chance, and grateful that there isn't a looming cloud hanging over her head anymore.

She no longer has to wonder about her father, because now she knows he's exactly where he is supposed to be, and both of their lives are better for it. Instead, she has Cyclone, the best father she could have ever asked for, and that is more than enough.

Cyclone breaks through the crowd, pulling his daughter into his arms, more than thankful for her safe return. He shouts at her, over the crowd, about how well she did and how happy he is that she made it back. The pair hold each other tight for another few moments, neither ready to let go.

Maverick takes one more look at Monsoon, who's now folded into Cyclone's arms. It's an unfamiliar sight but not an unwelcomed one, for Maverick. One thing's for sure, she is exactly like her Pops- disciplined and talented in the cockpit of a jet. Even more, though, beyond being a good aviator, she is a good person and that's something that Maverick can't regret.

---

Miramar, California. TOP GUN. One year after the completion of the Uranium Mission and the organization of the Dagger Squad.

A year later, Cyclone and Monsoon find themselves sitting in The Flight Line Bar, her hand thrust out in front of her, ring glittering under the amber lights.

"You're going to give me away at my wedding, right?" There is a sort of apprehension to her voice as she sips on her beer.

"It would be my honor, kid," Cyclone slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her sideways into him. He holds her there for a second before letting her sit back upright, a large smile on her lips.

"Y/N Seresin has a good ring to it," Cyclone adds, bringing his beer up to his lips.

"About that," Monsoon starts, causing the Admiral to set his beer down, "Jake and I had a conversation, and we thought that having two Aviators in the same squad with the same last name would get confusing, so it's going to be Y/N Simpson, if that's okay with you,"

The Admiral's eyes flood with tears before he can say a single word. They quickly spill down his cheeks and all he can do is look at his daughter, tears of her own overtaking her eyes.

"I take that as a "yes"?" Monsoon chuckles, wiping her eyes with a shitty bar napkin.

"Of course it's a yes, kid," Cyclone grabs her hand, holding it on top of the bar.

The pair sit, hand in hand , tears still wet on their faces and all Cyclone can think about is how fucking lucky he got, how blessed his life is. He finally has a daughter who is happy and in love, a daughter that he will get to walk down the aisle on the most important day of her life.

When he chances a glance over to her, Cyclone can see the frizz of her hair highlighted by the neon sign buzzing behind her, her cheeks bright red. For a moment, he can see June in the roundness of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. Cyclone thinks back to all those years ago, when he and Monsoon first met sitting in this same bar, but he doesn't entertain the memory very long, after all, he has so much to look forward to. So instead, he squeezed her hand.

"I love you, kid," Beau tells her earnestly, smiling though a few stray tears.

"I love you too, Pops," Monsoon returns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Now and always,"

TAG LIST

@its-the-pilot

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sluttywoozi · 4 months

Note

I have been re-reading the supernatural svt and I just need to know more of your thoughts and headcanons for werewolf! Jun

okay so i have his origin story in mind but also some headcanons so i'll do both hehe

warnings: blood mention, food mention, even longer than vampire wonu

jun was going on a late night food run one night and to save time, he decided to use the walking path by his apartment instead of the well lit, safe sidewalks because those go around the forest and the path goes through. he wasn't nervous at all for some reason, even though it was nearly pitch black in the woods and he could hear every single animal moving through the underbrush. he was nearly there, even, when something tackled him from the side, throwing him off the path and tumbling down a rocky hill with him. by the time he stopped falling, he was dizzy and panting and likely concussed, and whatever tackled him was gone.

he had no idea where he was, or how to get back up to the path, so he just wandered until the sun started to rise and then he followed the light to find his way out of the dense trees. his side and back ached, stinging, sharp pains shooting through him with every movement, every step on the uneven ground, but he just attributed that to the fall and continued on his way home.

he didn't think anything was amiss until his roommate lost it at the sight of him, shouting about tracking blood and mud all over the floors and what the hell happened to his back?!

they shoved him to the bathroom and turned on the light, and Jun blanched at the reflection in the mirror. he was absolutely covered in dirt, with leaves sticking out of his hair and moss clinging to his clothes. he turned around and glanced at his back, his eyes growing wide at the large gashes cutting through his skin like claw marks.

he could barely even feel them with the way his whole back throbbed, but they looked ugly, torn, ragged, and above all, dirty. he didn't know what else to do so he hopped in the shower and went about his day, not registering the way sounds were louder and smells were stronger until they got so overwhelming that all he could do was cover his ears and breathe through his mouth.

things only got worse from there, his senses sharpening and his strength increasing with every passing day. he could hear the neighbors two stories up arguing about bills, he could smell dinner cooking in the basement apartment, and he could taste his roommate's confusion and distrust on the air.

the night of the full moon was when it all finally started making sense. well, the morning after really.

Jun doesn't remember what happened that night, just that he woke the next day to someone pounding on his door. he was covered in dirt and blood again, but the blood didn't smell like his or like a human's so he wasn't too worried.

he was a little worried about being able to tell the difference between human and animal blood, but all of his questions were cleared up as soon as he opened the door to find his coworker, Mingyu, large and grinning in the doorway.

"So you're a werewolf too! Why didn't you tell me, bro? We could have been going on runs together this whole time."

oh. a werewolf. huh.

Jun could only lift his shoulders in an exhausted shrug and say, "Nobody told me, my guy."

very puppylike, squirrels turn his head and he'll chase anything that runs

doesn't really have anger issues at all, only wolfs out (outside of the full moon) when he's anxious or scared or feels cornered

love/hate relationship with his heightened senses

loves how food tastes better and his sight is clearer and he can pick out every individual instrument in his favorite songs

hates that he can smell the garbage truck coming, that he can see every speck of dust in his room, that he can hear the couple in 9b arguing then fucking every night

used to be a bit of a homebody but started spending more time outdoors after he was changed

partially because mingyu drags him out on runs, mostly because the fresh air smells nice and the open sky makes him feel free

starts going to a farmers' market down the road from his apartment because he can taste the processing on fruits and veg from the grocery store

it's during one of his weekend visits that he meets you

or rather, smells you

he almost can't describe it, your scent, but as soon as he locked on, it filled his nose and his head and his heart

he practically floated over to your stall, drawn by your fragrance like he was a fish on a line being reeled in

he didn't see you at first, just the flowers covering every inch of the booth, and he thought maybe they were the source of the smell until you popped up from behind the counter

you had supplies in your hands, paper and ribbon and shears, but you jumped and dropped them all at the sight of him, gasping in shock like you'd seen a ghost

"what's wrong??" he asked, concerned, his hands hovering in front of him as he glanced wildly around the market for a threat

"nothing, nothing, i just didn't hear you come up and i didn't expect you to be there," you rushed to placate him, an apologetic expression on your face before you ducked to gather your materials again

he wished he could help instead of standing there and watching you, but there was a table in between you (why is there a table in between you there shouldn't be anything in between you)

"how can i help you?" you bounced up and beamed, laying your things out on the counter neatly, your eyes still on him

he was nearly laid out by the force of your smile, so it's a miracle when he's able to say, "it smelled really good over here, i just followed my nose."

you laughed and told him you were glad the flowers were doing their job, and he didn't have the courage to tell you it wasn't the flowers that brought him here

he bought three bouquets that day, just so he could talk to you longer

one went into his room, one was for his roommate who was only just starting to be nice to him again, and one was for mingyu, who almost cried when he received them, saying he'd never gotten flowers before

he went back to your spot the next week, but you weren't there

so he tried again, only to find the market still devoid of you

jun's not one to give up, he'll try even when he probably shouldn't anymore, so week after week he found himself at the market, buying produce and hoping he would be able to get flowers too, and maybe even your number this time

it takes two excruciating months, but finally, you come back

he smells you before he even gets to the market, your fragrance wafting down the closed off street and calling to him like a siren's song

he waves at the farmers he always buys from but beelines to your stall, finding you swamped with customers and joining the back of the line

you keep up with ease, wrapping bouquets at the speed of light and moving on to the next, until jun is standing in front of you with a shy smile and his hands clasped tightly together

"hi!" you grin like you recognize him, and he thinks maybe you do when you start to pull flowers, the same ones you'd used in the bouquets last time

"hi," he breathes, taking a step closer and taking in a deep breath before saying, "do you think maybe you'd like to perhaps go out with me sometime possibly? you can say no, and i'll never come here again! but if you say yes, then i- i will. all the time."

you're still looking down at your working hands, but he sees the corners of your mouth quirk up in a smile before you glance up and nod, "i would like to go out with you sometime."

he feels like he could melt, so relieved at your answer that it takes him a full minute to realize he hasn't even introduced himself

"oh! i'm jun, by the way," he laughs, holding a hand out

"y/n," you shake his hand firmly, and if you notice how hot it is, you don't let it show

you exchange phone numbers, then flowers and money, and with that, jun is on his way

he texts you as soon as he gets home and you text back almost instantly, sparking a conversation with no beginning or end, only a middle

you text all day, every day for two weeks, and jun wonders if that's a long enough time for him to ask you out again. mingyu thinks it's not, but he also loitered around his crush for a full month until she finally gave him a chance so jun isn't inclined to listen

it's a good thing he doesn't because he does ask you out again and you do say yes

you say yes with lots of exclamation points and jun's smile gets too big for his face and his heart gets too big for his chest

he knows you like flowers so he takes you to the botanical garden on the edge of town

it has a conservatory and fairy lights and tonight, food trucks and pop up bars

you ooh and ahh with every turn, munching on your snacks with wide, wonder filled eyes, turning to him every so often to make sure he's seeing everything you want him to see

he falls in love with you a little bit that night, and a little more every night after

he does wish mingyu had told him about the knotting thing tho, both for your sake and his

part two (surprise knotting)

#✨emily answers✨#✨emily writes✨#jun fluff #jun headcanons #jun scenarios #junhui x reader #jun x reader #jun x y/n #jun x you #seventeen headcanons #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #supernatural svt #werewolf!jun

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thenighthekate · 11 months

Text

Am I the one you want [pt.3] ( t.k. )

This little thing, once proud in love and lust, now hides its face and soon it will be dust.

part one part two

The days dragged on forever, lonely nights and busy mornings stretching out till the very last second. It was draining, there wasn't a minute she didn't regret her choices, her words, her actions. If she didn't push, if she didn't yell, she would be still wrapped up in his arms. His soft kisses planted all over her body, his hands working magic after a long week. It was now that she realized he was her escape. His presence was her escape from the hard reality, from the life outside his warm hugs.

The smell of coffee beans swirled all around her, her hands aching as she worked. She was yet again in her head, her stare far into the distance, not even realizing that she was over pouring espresso into the cup until the hot liquid met her hand.

" Shit!" It was quiet, quick and looking around it seemed like no one heard it.

She basically threw the cup onto the counter next to her, quickly blowing on her palm and putting it under water as fast as she could, the cooling sensation calming her nerves. The sound of a bell rang out through the place, the doors of the small coffee shop opening and closing, inviting laughter into the area. She could hear footsteps behind her, a group of what she guessed four people coming up to the front.

After the burned flesh started to feel better she whirled around, not paying much attention to the person she walked to the register.

" Hello!" And when she finally looked up the wind from her lungs got knocked out. Her body froze, words not able to escape even through her open mouth, her head slightly shaking in disbelief. The woman was beautiful, now she finally understood why he went for her. The wife of her past lover was standing in front of her, her smile bright like the sun, light practically radiating off of her frame. They were nothing alike. She cleared her throat, quickly squeezing her eyes shut before speaking with a forced smile on her face. " What would you like?"

" Would you be a peach and make me a long glass of caramel iced coffee?" Her voice was angelic, soft, pure with a hint of hardness and a slight rumble in her tone.

She couldn't help but notice the woman rubbing her stomach, her hand moving in circles over her dress, the fabric bringing out the roundness of her belly. She quickly nodded to her request, the other womens orders blurring together, she didn't know for how much longer she would be able to keep it together.

As she worked on their drinks one thing was for certain, all feelings of regret disappeared. The second thoughts flew out the window, plans of revenge settling into the empty spaces. His wife had to know, she was carrying his child for fucks sake.

Finished with their drinks she brought them out, her feet bringing her to their table and setting the glasses down. " And just call me if you need anything else." This time her voice was stronger, her tone set sweetly with hardness underneath, she softly smiled at the four women, hearing their thank you's before walking away.

Her gaze was set on the now soon to be mother, she watched as she sipped her drink, some spilling on her lip. She reached for the napkin beneath her coffee glass and when her eyes fully set onto it she abruptly stopped. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her whole body slowly tensing. She looked back to the young girl at the counter, her face pulled in disbelief as the women around her asked if she was okay. Swiftly dismissing them she got up and carried herself to the front.

" Is this some kind of joke? Do you think it's funny?" The girl could only stare at the woman, her eyes sad, begging her to see the truth behind them. " This is the humor you kids these days like, huh? Well it's not funny and it's really hurtful. You should not be joking about things like this." The young girl pulled out her phone, completely ignoring his wifes furious tone she pushed the device into the woman's hands.

There was a beat of silence, both of them waiting for the other to say something, anything. " As far as I know I'm not the only one, there have been many women before me." She clutched the counter to stay stable. " I should have ended things sooner, told you about everything. But for my own selfish reasons I let this drag out for more than a year."

Their eyes met and it felt like they had a whole silent conversation while they gazed at each other.

" When do you get off?"

" I'm sorry?"

" When does your shift end?" Her stare was hard, demanding, wanting answers from the young girl infront of her.

" Six. I get off at six."

" Great." She suddenly smiled, the very same beaming, bright smile she walked into the shop with. " I'll pick you up then. How do you feel about a little wine date at my place?"

She knew what this meant, and with the situation they were at, she was all here for it.

" I don't know what went wrong. I mean we seemed so happy. Honestly I thought it was work trips, late night shifts, but he always made time for me." The kitchen table was marble, their home big and modern, neat, but with a woman's touch every place needed for it to be called home.

" He always talked about him being unhappy. Said that you were some controlling freak, made bullshit excuses and made me think that I was his corner of peace, escape." The girl had a mocking in her tone, recalling every memorie she and her once lover shared. Her fingers were tightly wrapped around a crystal glass, dark crimson liquid swirling inside it as she took a sip.

" It's truly impressive how he managed to carry this out for so long." His wife had a sour look on her face, hatred clear in her eyes, flames turning ready to burn anyone who got too close. " More wine? If I could, I would be getting shitfaced right now."

Their giggles and laughter quickly died down when a faint sound of the front door opening and closing made it to their ears, footsteps sounding out closer to the kitchen.

" I bought you some ice cream and there's this new movie out, we could watch it tonight." His face morphed into shock, disbelief, fear almost when he rounded the corner, the bag he was carrying dropping to the floor.

" Oh, hi, honey. I made a new friend at the coffee shop today. Isn't she the sweetest." He didn't answer, only stared, his eyes shifting between the two women at the table.

The moment was quiet, almost peaceful before hell broke loose. His wife was screaming, her finger pointed at his chest while she continued to walk him backwards, his own hands flying around her to try and calm her down. The young girl stared at them, her lips pulled into a smirk as she sipped on her wine. She didn't want to admit it, but it was satisfying, watching his face turn red from embarrassment, his wife and the mother of his child truly putting him in his place.

Her heart finally felt light, free.

#thenighthekate #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you

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kazemi-archive · 9 months

Text

In The End

Pairing: Suna Rintarou x Reader Word Count: 3.2k Genre: Light Angst, Fluff Summary: You've fallen in love and out of love more times than you could count, but after 16 years of knowing him... you're not sure how it'll be in the end.

Your furthest back memory, Suna Rintarou was there. You genuinely can’t imagine your life without him. Can’t remember your life without him either.

You two weren’t always friends. Maybe you started that way—what five-year-old doesn’t want to be friends with everyone. At least at first. The initial friendship probably lasted for a week. Right up until he smacked you in the face with a volleyball and refused to apologize when you were crying.

Maybe you’d even had a tiny little crush on the energetic boy before. But after that? Then you hated him.

That hate did not fade easily.

Your life was full of crossing paths with Rintarou in the upcoming years. Passing comments and glares sent for reasons neither of you could remember. Grudges held at outings where your parents conversed with each other. You kept it civil, not worth the effort.

Luck had you both in mind when it stuck you on the same bus as him the last year of primary school. Now whether you consider that good luck or back luck—that’s up to how you want to look at it.

12 year old you had forgotten why you hated him. But you surely took notice of how attractive he’d gotten.

He was still lanky and awkward but he had way more confidence than he had business having. He’d calmed down since you’d first met him, no longer overly energetic but instead quieter and more discreet comments whispered to friends under his breath and snickered laughter.

You’d hated him for a different reason then. He didn’t go to your school then, but the stories you’d overhear about the girls were enough to make you curl up in your seat. You couldn’t decide if you hated him or yourself more. Yourself because he was Suna Rintarou. The boy you’d hated for as long as you could remember. The boy you could now remember (and admit to) having a crush on before you hated him. The boy who you unfortunately might be liking again. Especially with the way he occasionally dragged you into his conversations with a teasing tone, like he knew it bothered you.

You thought you’d be free of him the next year when you were off to middle school. New school, new bus route. But as luck would have it. Who slid into the seat next to you but the one and only Suna Rintarou.

“So, looks like it’s you and me again, huh?”

It was only a small comment, but it led to the most civil conversation the two of you had had in years. Small chats catching up with each other about interests and how sports went, what you’d quit and what you’d stuck with. Rintarou sitting next to you on the bus went from looking for anyone familiar to sit next to, to purposefully choosing to sit next to him.

Your little hate crush on him stopped somewhere along the way. You found comfort in the way the two of you non-stop bickered. The mutual bullying that was never taken too far or to heart.

That little connection with him that formed only grew stronger as the time in middle school went on. You both gossiped about the newest business in your separate classes and who was dating who and which girl was throwing herself at him that week. He chastised you about your choices in friends when he thought they were bad influences. Sometimes the overprotective routine got on your nerves and you would sit next to him on your bus ride only to purposefully ignore him the whole time.

Your bus rides when you weren’t giving him the silent treatment were just constant chatter though. Anything under the sun. Everything that came to mind. At school was the opposite though. Both of you fond of pretending to not be as close as you were when you went about your shared school, doing your own things. It wasn’t like you purposefully ignored each other, or you’d like to think that, but your friends and his friends never got along.

Your nights were texting back and forth, you ignoring that you needed to sleep as he stayed up playing games online and shooting you texts in between rounds. It was amazing, actually, that it took you as long as it did to figure out that you liked him again. Right about the end of middle school when you were getting one last break from school before going off to high school.

High school… when he left.

You’d discussed both of your intents to follow the route most of the middle school was taking and going to the local high school. He didn’t tell you his change of plans. You’d overheard his friends bragging and patting him on the back.

Suna Rintarou, personally recruited to go to Hyogo and attend Inarizaki High.

You were happy for him. He got to play volleyball at an amazing school. It was his dream. You were just upset he hadn’t told you. Upset he was leaving. …leaving before you could confess to him, come clean to him.

So you decided to. The two of your families had gone out together, one last outing before he went off for high school. And you’d spent the whole time attached to him, waiting for the time to tell him. And then you both watched the sunset together. And you decided it had to be then.

“Y/n, I love you.” That’s what he’d said, left a beat for you to process it, time enough for your heart to triple its speed and for you to open your mouth to reply. To reciprocate. You never got it out. “You’re like a sister to me and I’ll miss you. So keep in touch okay?”

Your heart had never broken so fast and completely. You squeezed out your agreement through your faked smile. You resolved that this crush of yours would follow you to the grave.

That was dramatic, of course, the first year without him wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. The two of you tried to text every day at first. Then every other day. It was down to maybe once a week. There were other distractions in high school. Studies to focus on. Other people to crush on. Crushes that went places.

Your second year of high school and it was even less. Maybe you both would check in once a month. Most of your knowledge about each others’ lives though, came from posts made online. By each other, by old classmates. Even when he came home to visit, the two of you rarely saw each other.

The only interaction came from a single week. A single week in summer when he was visiting. And a single night, a terrible night where through blurry eyes you’d sent a screenshot to the wrong contact.

Aiming to send the picture, a screenshot of a nasty message from someone you’d considered incredibly close, to your best friend and misclicking, hitting Rintarou’s name instead of hers. You hadn’t even noticed either, not until your phone had started to ring.

“Who the fuck is that?” You didn’t think that you’d heard him that angry since a boy stepping out of line with you in middle school.

“I-I’m so-sorry. I didn’t mean to send that to you.” You were sobbing, walking in circles outside in the dark, trying to not let your family know you were distressed.

“I don’t care, talk to me.” And he listened, listened as you cried and recounted all the times you thought you were close to that person, confessed that you’d even thought you’d liked the person and that they’d liked you back. Listened to your heart break over a boy who wasn’t him, a boy who’d said unspeakable things to you. And when the call ended he’d told you. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, if you need me, come here.”

You didn’t take him up on it. Not at first. But when your best friend had gotten the news, her volatile reaction had only sent you into more tears. You’d shown up at his front door, at midnight, still sobbing.

His sister had opened the door and you’d not even gotten to say a word to explain before he was getting up to get you. You’d heard him say a quick goodbye to someone on the phone before pocketing it, seen him turn off his game system and get up without a word. His shoes were on before he said anything, taking you by the shoulders and directing you back outside. “Let’s go for a walk.”

He’d spent hours outside with you, talking to you, making you laugh. He didn’t leave you alone until you felt better. Until your tears stopped and the boy’s number was deleted from your phone. You’d learned later that it was his current girlfriend he’d hung up on.

That night stayed with you always. But you barely talked to Rintarou after that. The rest of high school blurring as you two kept in contact even less. But he stayed in your mind as the boy you’d always be able to call if you needed him to help you, no matter how much time had passed.

It was college now, you’d taken a year after high school to work, to save up the money to go where you wanted to. It was purely coincidence, once again luck had you both in mind when you ended up at the same college as none other than Suna Rintarou.

It was like nothing had changed. Maybe it had. You were both closer, after being apart for so long, it was like making up lost time. After growing up it was like being able to finally come clean.

You admitted to crushing on him as a kid before he hit you in the face. He admitted that he’d actually crushed on you right after, when you were adamant that you were hating him.

He admitted to crushing on you when middle school had started. And you’d admitted to your crush at the end of it. Confessed how heartbroken you’d been at his proclamation that you’d been like a sister. And he’d laughed and confessed that he’d meant to leave it at “I love you” but had panicked at the last second.

Which meant he’d started high school thinking he’d loved you. The same way you’d started high school thinking you’d loved him.

That one had taken some time to process. Quiet minutes stretched between the two of you as you realized you’d had a chance to date and had missed it. The awkward silence had quickly been broken by laughter as you both agreed you’d grown up and out of it. Agreeing that friends had always been what suited the two of you best.

You’d both agreed. Three years ago the two of you had agreed. So you truly truly hated where you were now. Three years from that agreement. College graduation coming up. In love with Suna Rintarou. Again.

He looked… staggeringly handsome, fucking perfect in his suit for graduation. For the slob he tended to be, he cleaned up nice. Amazing actually. His hair wasn’t out of place like usual, it was clean and it was shiny. His smile was nearly sparkling as he greeted everyone happily. His suit was perfectly tailored to him too. A signing bonus from his new team. He was beautiful. And you were absolutely drooling. And absolutely hating it.

It felt like the end of middle school all over again. You were stuck crushing on Suna Rintarou and he was getting ready to leave, to go off.

It was like you were watching the future play by in slow motion. The same thing happening that had happened before. It felt kinda twisted if you were honest. Only seeing each other in three year bursts. Age five to eight, spent hating each other. Four years apart. Age twelve to fifteen, spent stuck in a space in between love and hate. Four years apart. Age nineteen to twenty-one spent thick as thieves, never one day apart.

You wondered… would you find your way back after another four years? When you were twenty-five? Were you doomed to spend it on repeat, losing him over and over again. Hating him and then loving him. A cycle you seemed too familiar with. Would you-

“Hey, why d’ya look so glum.” Rintarou chuckled, leaning against the wall next to you, looking out at the party that was happening now. You stayed quiet, shaking your head, trying not to look at him. He’d lost his jacket, had undid a few buttons at the top of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves and you were sure the alcohol in your system would take hold of your mouth if you were to look at him. “C’mon, y/n, you didn’t look like you enjoyed the ceremony at all. It’s a happy day.” He nudged your side with his elbow and you could hear the smile in his voice, it tugged on the corners of your own lips.

“I’m okay, Rin.” You replied quietly, lifting your head but still not turning back to him. “Just been thinking about how much I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“Oh.” It was like the air around both of you suddenly got sucked out. The space around you thinning out and quieting down. “We’re still going to talk, you know.” He nudged you again, softer than the last time. He was trying to be playful but you could feel the strain in his movements.

“I know.” You swallowed down what you wanted to finish it with… but for how long? Would it be like when high school started, where you slowly stopped speaking as time went on. You didn’t want it to be. But if it was what he wanted then what could you- Rintarou’s hand appeared in front of your face and interrupted your thoughts. “What are you doing?”

“Pinky promise.” He chuckled as he could see the side of your face crinkle up in confusion. “C’mon, I know you still find them sacred.” You chuckled softly, nodding in confirmation. “So pinky promise, you’ll stay in touch.”

You smiled a little more, linking your pinky with his. “We’ll keep in touch Rin.” You sighed and leaned against him, a position of comfort for the two of you that had become all too normal over the last few years. “Maybe you can stop by whenever you come home, I’ll always make some time for you.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, but it felt disconnected, like there was no heart behind it, and it was followed by a long silence. Tension pulling between the two of you as it sunk in that it was over. That like before, life was pulling the two of you apart. Neither of you spoke, leaning against each other, against the wall, watching others from your year celebrating. Quiet amongst the chaos of it all.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat quietly, it felt like hours as the silence stretched between the two of you. In reality, it was probably no more than two minutes.

“You know what, no.” Rintarou’s sudden declaration took you by surprise and you lifted your head up from his shoulder. “I don’t want you to make time for me.” You were suddenly aware that his pinky was still locked with yours and you dropped it your chest tightening as he kept speaking. “I don’t wanna stop by whenever I’m back in town.” It was like your whole world was crashing around you, heart being pulled out of your chest as you disconnected your body from his.

“What?” Your voice caught in your throat as you processed what had just been said.

“Y/n, I don’t wanna stay in touch.”

“Oh. Right, okay.” You took a deep breath, feeling water pool along the bottom of your eyes as you stepped away from him. You could feel your body trembling as you did, the weight of his words crumbling your composure. There wouldn’t be another bout of three years for the two of you in the future. This was it. “I’m sorry, I should go.”

“Wait, would you.” Rintarou grabbed your hand as you tried to step away, preventing you from leaving and finally forcing you to turn to face him. He looked stressed out, like he was internally struggling to say what he was about to. To, no doubt, break your heart more.

“Suna I-”

“God, don’t call me that, y/n.” He groaned and ran his free hand over his face. “I don’t want you to keep in touch.”

“You said that alrea-”

“Shut up please.” Rintarou interrupted again. “Keeping in touch means calls once a week, then a month, then maybe just texting. It means maybe we’ll see each other once a year and catch up and you’ll tell me all about the wonderful boyfriend you’ll get who will turn into your husband one day, and we’ll catch up on our town’s gossip and what our college friends have been up to. And I’ll tell you about my newest girlfriend. It’ll always be a new one too, it’ll never go anywhere. Cause whoever she is… she’ll never be you.” You froze, it was like lead filled up your bones, refusing to function, waiting for him to keep talking. He breathed in deeply and you could feel his hand shaking as it gripped your wrist. “If we’re keeping in touch, it means that once again, I let you go and I can’t do that.”

“Rintarou.” You muttered, staring at him, keeping the eye contact he was making. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I loved you when I was six years old. I loved you when I was fourteen. I love you now, y/n. I know we said that stupid thing about just being friends but I can’t do that. And god I know this is so selfish but I love you, I’ve always loved you. And I’m not chickening out like I did when we were fifteen. That company that just hired you, they have an office out in the same city that my new team is in. I want you to come with me.” You blinked at him in shock, brain trying to catch up to his words as he stared back at you in worry. Worried that he ruined it all. “Please, I know I said shut up but please say some-”

You grabbed his face quickly, cutting him off with a kiss. His hands moved easily, the one on your wrist moving to your waist as he pulled you in closer, his other hand cupping your jaw to keep you against him. You hated being cliche but it truly did feel like everything fell into place. “Rin, I love you. I love you too. It was always you. I’ll come with you. I don’t wanna miss out on this again. Miss out on us. It was you in the beginning, it’s you now, and it’ll be you in the end.

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i-might-be-a-simp · 11 months

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I need your opinion, do you think Ron knew that Cale was no longer the same person?

I was stalking the fandom (as usual) and I saw a comment, by who I assume to be a new reader, wondering how Ron would react finding out Cale was actually KRS, that the child he watched grow wasn't actually the man he believes and it made me think a bit.

When I read tcf the first time, one of the things I was most curious about was all the odd looks Cale got in the first few chapters, and my biggest question was, surely a very sharp and experienced assassin who knew the know-hows of blending into different crowds would have immediately noticed that "Young master" was no longer the same person.

I'm sure you caught this too when reading, but there were many moments when Ron's expression turned odd after Cale did or said something.

Ron the whole first chapter:

It starts by something he dismisses, such as Cale waking up immediately after Ron calls out to him, on the very first attempt. But as the chapter progresses, Ron gets more and more intrigued.

He notices how Cale says thanks after he receives water and when servants dress him. Along with his other odd actions, asking the date, repeating his own name, asking to go to the study, not breaking things etc.

And then finally, Ron gives him the ultimate test, the lemon tea. I think this was his way of confirming that Cale had changed. It proved to me Ron was definitely onto something.

Now this is where I need your opinion. From my interpretation of Ron's character, yes he "loved" ogCale or held at least a bit of affection for him. Let me pull up some receipts:

^(sorry for light mode)

Although Ron treated him like his grandson he did not think Cale had a soft spot for him nor that he treated him like a person and never really took much interest in him aside from his duties.

And while I was doing a deep-dive I went on the wiki and saw this.

So Ron saw ogCale, his situation and therefore pitied him, yet he thought of him as a helpless impertinent puppy, which is why he did not have much issue with following Beacrox who wished to leave with Choi Han in BOAH. But only after Cale changed is when he begin to be interested.

Now the question is, was the lemon tea experiment he did, just to test whether Cale had become aware of Ron's true identity, or was it to confirm Cale was a changed person entirely???

Personally I think it was both, and that Ron was aware from the very beginning. However this is where I am conflicted, because the idea of Ron watching that small boy become so big and smart is so satisfying to me, because the author wanted to paint this as a "cale finally stopped pretending to be a dumb oblivious trash and started to take matters into his hand" like it was all a plan cale had to hide his powers and get stronger in secret while acting unsuspecting. This is what the public believes and it sounds very cool but... hmm I wish we got a chapter focusing more on Ron's feelings.

Like I am aware he loves Cale very much and especially after getting the new arm he started to feel a sense of loyalty for Cale he didn't have before but the fact that he was one of the few people og Cale was very close with since he was very young, the fact that a whole new person was in the body is kind of not addressed in its full concept, this transition from no interest to loyalty was also a transition from og cale to krs cale so I wish we got more on it.

Thanks for reading my ramble. I love them.

#trash of the count's family #tcf #cale henituse #lcf #lout of count’s family #ron molan

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joelswritingmistress · 6 months

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Last Halloween: Chapter 31

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

The passing of time began to heal the wounds that had been bestowed on you and Joel. Despite some initial reluctance, you agreed to talk to a therapist about being kidnapped by Vic and all that took place before and after. Joel had talked you into it, and agreed to go, himself.

By the summer, you felt almost back to normal; and those wounds turned into scars. Never forgotten, but no longer the focal point of your pain.

You passed the last of your practicals and exams. The final course you finished that summer and by the fall you had your nursing degree as planned.

It was October 1st when you handed your three closest girlfriends your last lump sum of money for the monthly rent on the house you had been renting together. It was bittersweet. The four of you had had so much fun through your mid twenties in that house, and waking up to share laughs and have coffee were the little moments you would miss so dearly.

"You're only moving six minutes down the road," Jessie reminded you, when the two of you cried together, complete with seemingly contradictory smiles.

"I know." You dried your eyes. "But.. I just.. I'm so happy but this is-"

"The end of Act One in your story and the beginning of Act Two." Jessie pulled you in for a long hug. "And this is where the friendships grow stronger, and the real depth comes in."

You sighed. Her words made you cry a little more before you finally got it together and bid a temporary farewell to your friend. The four of you already had a plan to go out the following Friday night and that was solace enough for the time being.

The very bright light at the end of the tunnel was Joel. Once you parted from Jessie, you sped over to Joel's street with your car full of all of your belongings. Your heart was letting you know how full it was from the constant thudding in your chest. It picked up the closer you got and felt like exploding when you pulled down the private driveway.

As promised, Joel sat on his front porch waiting for your arrival. One year later and he still made you swoon. The site of him still made butterflies flutter around in your midsection.

When you parked the car and popped open the driver's side door, you smiled wide as he approached with a key dangling between his fingers. You almost couldn't believe this was really happening.

"Welcome home." Joel smiled just as wide. The two of you couldn't take your eyes off one another and you pulled him in by the collar of his flannel shirt to leave a long, meaningful kiss on his lips.

"I love you," you breathed into his mouth.

"I love you, too." He brushed his nose against yours and you kissed again before accepting the key from him.

"I can't believe I live here now."

Joel kept you close. "Maybe one day I'll get you that cabin in the woods, but I thought this would do for now."

You shook your head and nodded toward the house behind him. "This is home."

He pecked your lips once more. "Come on." He pulled you by the hand and the two of you began to unload the car.

You were on cloud nine. Each box you brought inside made the move feel more permanent. When you unpacked the box that had your Bluetooth speaker in it, you plopped it on the little end table by one of the couches and put on one of your many playlists.

"Bob Dylan," Joel nodded in approval as the first song began to play. "Nice."

You smiled at him as he hauled another box in over shoulder. The two of you went through it together, finding a permanent home for your things. While you didn't want to impose on Joel's space, he was overly accommodating.

"It's our space now," Joel reminded you three or four times.

You stuck your toothbrush in the slot next to his. Joel cleared out more than half of the closet space for clothes. You laid out your boots, shoes and sandals.

When all of the bins and boxes were finally empty, you made your way back downstairs, welcomed by the infamous pipes of Sheryl Crow's Strong Enough, you finally reached for your car keys, and the single, gold key you had placed beside it; the one Joel had given to you.

As you picked it up between your fingers, Joel crept in behind you and kissed down your neck. You moaned lightly with a smile and closed your eyes.

"Mmm.." you let out a deep exhale through your nose. "So, this is my life now, huh?" You sunk back against him.

"As long as you want it to be," Joel whispered, as his hand snaked up the bottom of your shirt.

You turned around and Joel met you halfway in a smoldering kiss, one that you had been wanting to give him all afternoon. For the rest of the night you didn't take your hands off of him. Moving in together had turned you into a feral, needy woman.

When the two of you finally laid in bed, breathing heavy but otherwise quiet, you stated aloud. "I live here."

Joel began to chuckle, guiding you to lay partially on his chest. "You live here."

You sighed contently again, listening to his heart beating rapidly in his chest with your arm slunk across his abdomen. "Imagine if I had never offered you that free coffee that night."

"What's meant to be will always be." Joel played with your hair. "But I'm glad you did." He added, "You're a brave woman. I owe you my life. You gave it back to me."

"All I want from you is to share it with me."

Joel kissed the top of your head and the two of you laid contently for a long while, talking about life, the future, and what was to come. You both intentionally left out the past. It was the easiest way to fall asleep peacefully.

When the next morning rolled around, you felt refreshed. It was like leaving a great dream only to awaken to a better one - one with Joel beside you. Permanently. Every day. For as long as you both could stand to be around one another. In your mind, that meant forever.

You smiled at him sleeping there and swung your legs off the edge of the bed before tiptoeing out of the room so you wouldn't wake him. As much as you wanted to lay there all morning with Joel, you also wanted to surprise him.

Despite it being your first formal night as a resident at the Miller house, you knew your way around the kitchen. And so you went about whipping up pancakes, setting the coffee pot and gathering the syrup, butter and chocolate chips you happened to find in one of the cabinets.

You hesitated before retrieving a long rectangular box wrapped in candy corn wrapping paper from your jacket pocket by the front door and left it by Joel's unmade plate.

Before you could go see if he was awake, your eyes lifted to meet his as he strolled into the kitchen. Joel pulled a long-sleeved tshirt down over boxers and you couldn't help but smile at his head of messy hair.

A smile crept on his face. "It smells amazing down here."

"Thought I'd surprise you on our first official morning living together." You smiled back and retrieved a glass dish filled with pancakes and placed them in the center of the table.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." The two of you sat down at the table and Joel raised his coffee mug to you. "To many more cups of coffee together first thing in the morning."

You giggled and reached for your cup, tapping it gently against his. "To many, many, many more."

Joel took a sip, smacking his lips together with an appreciative sigh and then eyed the little box by his silverware. He smirked and reached for it. "What's this?"

You felt your stomach knot up and folded your hands on top of the table. "You'll uh.. you'll have to open it."

Joel's eyes squinted in playful suspicion but he still smirked as he tore open the corner of the tiny package. "I didn't even know they made candy corn wrapping paper," he commented, glancing up at you with a wider grin.

You flashed him a closed-mouth smile and waited as he removed the small, white box from the paper. His eyes met yours a final time before he opened the box and stared down at the contents inside.

A quiet exhale escaped your lips as you waited for Joel's reaction. Those next few seconds felt like hours.

"This is, um.. is this what I think it is?" He looked right at you now motioning down toward the box. A wide smile spread on his face, "I mean it's not a positive Covid test, right?"

You managed a light laugh but ultimately the gravity of the situation held you firmly in place. "No, it's not a Covid test."

Joel chuckled to himself and brought a hand across his mouth for a second, before running it across his beard. His eyebrows raised and he reached for the rectangular stick in the box.

"Tell me." He stared intensely across the table at you.

Your bottom lip dropped away from your top one and you hesitated. You weren't sure why but it was such a powerful, permanent set of words to string together. When Joel couldn't contain a smile, it gave you enough confidence to spit the words out with a little, timid shrug of your shoulders.

"I'm pregnant."

"Really?" He asked as if he didn't believe it, rising to his feet. Joel made his way toward you.

You nodded and rose to your feet, feeling completely content and at ease in his arms as he hugged you. The warmth that often radiated from him transferred into you and you closed your eyes as his hand moved up and down your back.

It felt as if Joel didn't want to let you go, and you didn't mind. You smiled to yourself when he kissed your forehead before edging his back an inch or two so you were face-to-face.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You nodded and smiled back at him. "Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah." He chuckled, making you laugh and you shared a long, closed-mouth kiss. "I'm going to be a dad." The words came out almost like a question. You were sure the shock of the moment hadn't fully registered yet.

"You're going to be a great dad."

A lopsided smile still lingered on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped and shook his head. When he couldn't find the words, you pulled him back in for a hug and he melted against you.

After a minute or so, Joel finally said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He picked you up off the ground and spun you in a circle, making you giggle again. When your feet were back on the ground, Joel put a hand on his head and you saw a dampness in his eyes.

"Don't," you said with a laugh, "I made it this long without crying."

"Sorry," he said with a laugh as a tear streaked his face. "Fuck. I'm the man, I shouldn't be crying."

"That's an outdated take," you told him with a laugh, as he dried his face with his hands.

"I know." He chuckled and then dropped down to his knees in front of you, lifting the shirt to expose your stomach. Despite there being no obvious indications of your pregnancy, Joel placed a hand over your abdomen and then left a single kiss just below your belly button.

You cradled his head against you as he placed the side of his face against the area and hugged around your waist.

"We're going to have our own little family," Joel acknowledged allowed.

"Yeah." You ran your fingers through his hair.

"What do you think, five kids?" He joked, making you laugh as he rose back to his feet.

"Maybe seven or eight," you teased back, accepting a series of kisses from him.

"I love you," Joel said again, tucking hair behind you ear. "Really. I loved you right away. Last year, a week into this, I knew this was something that comes once in a lifetime."

You had tears in your eyes now. "I knew it too. And now you finally get your happily ever after."

"So do you."

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee @shayna-d-clown @bbiophiliaa @theclassicvinyldragon @tiffanypooh @mandijo17 @poodlebae @purple-fig @vabeachazn

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atlasscrumpit · 5 months

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Yandere Father Miguel

Tears streamed down your face as you ran along the streets, you were freezing under the cold rain, a white soaked dress being to only thing to protect you, you didn't even have on any shoes.

You kept running until you made it to an alleyway and sat on the floor, trying to catch your breath.

No matter how hard you tried you couldn't stop sobbing uncontrollably.

"Come on now, love. This is just getting boring now." A voice said as you cried even harder, knowing it was Miguel.

You went to get up again before he grabbed your arm.

You sobbed even more and tried to get away from him, obviously he was much stronger than you.

"I don't want to go home!" You screamed as loud as you could.

"Enough with the fucking screaming!" He shouted back as you sobbed.

He grabbed you and pressed you against the wall of the alleyway.

"Now, this is how it's going to be, little one. You're going to settle down, be a good girl and let me take you home. You will not draw attention to yourself. If you're extra good I won't punish you when we get home, do we have a deal?" He growled in your ear as you tried to stop crying.

"O-Okay." You agreed as he smiled and backed away, he held onto your hand.

"That's a good girl, don't try anything." He warned as he began to walk.

You held his hand and stuck close to him.

You couldn't help but start to cry as you pressed yourself even closer to him.

"I'm sorry..." You whispered as he held your hand tighter.

"Shh, we'll talk about this when we get home."

Once you had got home, Miguel helped you out of your soaked dress.

"What were you thinking, huh?" He growled as you looked away from him, you were tired of crying.

"I hate being here... Trapped here." You whispered as he reached up and turned your face to him.

"Y/N, you have everything you need. I give you food, toys, beds and whatever else you want. How can you still want more?" He asked as you glared at him.

"I just want freedom, I want to get away from you." You grumbled as he rolled his eyes.

"Hija mía, ¿por qué me haces esto?" He grumbled shaking his head before he lead you to the shower.

(translation. 'my daughter, why do you do this to me')

"In the shower and wash off." He demanded as you stumbled to the shower, you wanted to listen so he wouldn't punish you but also so you wouldn't freeze to death.

You stood in the shower and let the warm water rush over you, closing your eyes you tried to forget about everything that had happened that day.

"Apúrate!" Miguel shouted as you sighed and turned off the shower, you changed into new clothes and went out to where Miguel was waiting.

"Go to bed." He ordered as you slowly climbed into your bed.

"Can I have something to eat?" You muttered as he pulled the blankets over you.

"No, you can wait till breakfast." He grumbled as he sat on the side of your bed and sighed.

"I can't keep doing this, Y/N. I'm giving you everything yet you still run... So, I need to make it harder on you." He threatened as he leant forward and ran his hand through your hair gently.

"If you dare run from me again, I will catch you and I won't be as nice. I will beat you until you cannot breath any longer, I will make you choke on your own blood and beg me to save you just before you die." He growled, staring into your soul as you looked at him in fear.

"Am I understood?" He whispered, still playing with your hair.

"Yes, father..." You whispered as he smiled.

"That's what I thought, darling. Now, get some sleep." He whispered kissing your head and waking out the door, turning the lights off.

"See you in the morning, sweetheart."

#miguel o'hara #Platonic #Reader insert

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lover-of-mine · 2 months

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Okay, so, I don't know if I'm typing this out to make myself feel better because I can't believe THIS is the thing I'm gonna be right about in this fucking show BUT back in May last year, I added some tags on a post about how Buck is in Eddie's season 5 arc, so he would break up with Natalia pretty early on and Eddie and Marisol would go off to build stuff together (It's the only post I can find that proves I had the thought before all this because I don't know if I put that in a meta or not, I think I did on a post talking about how Buck and Eddie mirror each other narratively, but I cannot find it) but the thing is, season 6 for Buck mirrors season 4 for Eddie, which would put them in season 5 but from Buck's side. It was the main reason I kept saying I believed Natalia would have the same treatment as Ana, and go away early on in the season to open space for Eddie's journey of self-discovery, which is what happened, Natalia went away to open space for Buck's self-discovery journey. I was betting on a Buck breakdown, but bi Buck works. Why did I had that thought the second Eddie called Marisol in the s6 finale? Well, Buck and Eddie are literally running parallel to each other but slightly misaligned. You have tiny things like the way the first loss on the job for both of them is someone falling to their death, but Devon didn't want to live and the gross dude did. Or the shaky relationship with their parents that runs opposite because Eddie had too much responsibility placed on him while Buck was literally treated like he was invisible. Or more aggressive things like the way the well mirrors the lightning (set on that if you need help visualizing), with the way both of them volunteer into the rescue, the well is in the middle of nowhere, Buck gets struck in the middle of the street, Buck is in the sky, Eddie is underground, the rain aspect, the 118 as audience, they are even on mirrored sides of the frame, and I think even the way Buck needs to choose to get out of the coma mirrors the way Eddie saves himself. There's also the breathing things since Eddie almost drowns and Buck's lungs stop working. The well mirroring the lighting put Buck in season 4 for 6b, the "'I'm fine' *narrator voice* he wasn't fine" era, which would put Buck in season 5 now, the "I'm dealing with what makes me who I am" era, which he is, go Buck.

Well, this works with love interests on a ridiculous level. We have the ABSOLUTE MADNESS of the way Shannon comes back, next episode Ali shows up, Shannon dies, next episode Ali is gone, Eddie meets Ana, Buck keeps complaining about the struggles of being single (while Maddie totally sets him up with Josh, because now that Buck is canonically bi, the fact that they are in blue and green is too on the nose for me to ignore), nothing comes of Eddie and Ana, they both stay single, Eddie asks Ana out, next episode Buck is dating and Taylor comes Back, Buck starts dating Natalia, Eddie starts dating Marisol. The only ones who are not aligned are the breakups with Ana and Taylor, because Buck chooses to hang on for too long. We also the way they have the first love who left them and never really gave them the closure they needed, we have the inconsequential girlfriend they only got because people kept telling them they had to move on. Shannon works for Eddie the same way Abby works for Buck. Ana works for Eddie the same way Ali and I guess Natalia do for Buck. That means Eddie needs a Taylor. Someone he meets on a call who comes back later on. Check. Someone he's supposed to work with in theory but never had a real fighting chance. (I say that because if Taylor were as intense about Buck as she is about the job, they could've been a very interesting installment of golden retriever boyfriend/black cat girlfriend, but they never try). Something about their personal journeys is that Buck tends to take longer to learn, while Eddie tends to need a stronger hit. Buck's takes more time and Eddie's tends to be more intense in a sense. Like the way Shannon dies and Abby just leaves, but they actually kinda paint Buck as hung up on Abby all through seasons 2 and 3. Or the way Taylor goes away for a whole season, just to come back and stay for 3 half seasons. So the Marisol of it all. Taylor had more dept in the helicopter than Marisol has right now, but sure, let's say the point here is to make Eddie do something stupid in the name of not being alone. Because that's what Taylor is. The whole time, Taylor is about Buck being scared of being alone, even hooking up with her the first time is about how he didn't have Abby to hang on to anymore. Taylor and Buck are also fundamentally incompatible.

Again, I know nothing about Marisol. They gave her no dept beyond being a glorified babysitter. Nothing in her relationship with Eddie so far has been about Eddie and her. Even their dates seem to be something that will be about watching other people. I don't wanna say buddie canon, because Lucy is her own category (I miss her) but, Eddie looking at Buck and Tommy and making the very harsh decision of asking her to move in "I'm gonna die alone" moment, I don't wanna say makes sense, but could work, even more considering that the Buck/Tommy/Eddie/Marisol date seems to be mirroring the colors of the Buckley-Diaz family + Taylor dinner in outside looking in, and the next episode is a madney episode. It's the same progression of events. I doubt Eddie is gonna cheat and panic ask Marisol to move in, but they are not so on the nose with the actual storyline parallels. I don't have the brainpower to come up with any theories about what he might do, but considering how rocky his relationship with Buck could be, considering the last episode, I can absolutely see Buck triggering that (that would make me accept I am right and Eddie is aware of his feelings and I won't give that up even if the show explicitly says he wasn't) because Eddie's abandonment issues make him overcorrect. And that's never a good thing. Do I think Marisol is going past the season finale? No. Eddie's understanding arcs are usually shorter than Buck's. How would she leave? No clue. The fact that Taylor hurt Buck's family, in a literal sense with Chim, and the focus on her relationship with Chris as someone taking care of him, also the ominous shots of Chris and the whole theory that Chris would get hurt last season makes me scared tho. It could be something that's not her fault that she doesn't reach Eddie instantly, like, Chris cuts himself or something and she doesn't call, that can even work to push Buck and Eddie closer, and put buddie explicitly in a parental role together. My brain keeps saying appendicitis for some reason, but no idea why, maybe I just don't want to believe the show would make someone purposefully endanger Chris. Eddie kind of snapping in a hospital makes sense? Let's say Chris gets sick while at school and someone calls the house trying to reach Eddie because he's not answering and he chews her off. But that's just like, the only thing I can come up with with the correct energy.

So, yeah, Marisol is Taylor. I'm too tired to keep typing, but I can't believe the one theory I don't fully type out is the one the universe is gonna give me oaksoaksoaksoaksokasa

If you read this I love you. I don't know how this made you feel, but I hope it makes sense.

#im going to bed now #bye #911 #911 speculation #911 spoilers #911 meta #???#i dont know #i know nothing

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jessicaloons · 8 months

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Chapter 13:

But I come back stronger than a ‘90s trend…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Charles POV:

I only had one thing on my mind when we came back into our chalet after a long day on the slopes: Hot Tub. I went straight into our room and looked for my swim shorts as Lizzie walked in.

"Someone is eager…" she chuckled and I walked into the en suite bathroom, leaving the door a crack wide open.

"That hot tub isn’t the biggest! And I want to relax a little before it gets too crowded or before I have to get out!" I said and walked back into our room, fluffy towel in hand, swim shorts on.

"Good point! Go ahead and make sure I have a seat… does it have seats?" she said and I laughed.

"I’ll take care, ma belle. Don’t worry. We’ll have enough space!"

We didn’t have enough space. The hot tub was made for 4 people max. and as JK, Joris and Andrea squeezed in, it got way too crowded. I pulled Lizzie against me, to make her sit at least a little more comfortable but somehow she ended up almost in my lap. I swallowed hard as I could feel her thighs pressing against mine. Her back flush with my chest. I tried to focus on breathing but having her this close, pressed to my body, half naked, made me almost dizzy. I felt like a pubescent teenager that couldn’t control his body. After a while Joris and JK began to yawn, Lizzie followed shortly after.

"I think that’s it for today, I’m out! Cheers guys, have a good night!" JK said and Lizzie and Joris got out as well, they wrapped their towels around them and prepared to leave, as Lizzie turned around looking at me.

"You guys go ahead, I’m staying a little longer, good night!" I said and they wished us a good night, then it was only Andrea and me left. He looked at me while I was squirming in my seat, feeling uncomfortable.

"You can go as well, if you want to… I’ll be fine!" I tried to sound nonchalant but failed.

"Charles? Aren’t you getting out because… because you have a… umm- a little situation down there…" Andrea chuckled and I blushed. Hard. "Okay. Then… good night. Sleep tight. Oh god no! I guess it’s already tight. I mean, sleep well!"

"Just go!! Jesus fucking Christ!" I groaned and Andrea laughed the whole way back in. What the actual fuck.

"There you are! I was looking for you! It’s almost midnight!" I said as I finally found Lizzie. Alone. Sitting on the terrace edge.

"I guess I lost a little track of time." she answered, not looking up.

"What’s going on?" I ask and sit down next to her. As I looked at her I saw tears in her eyes. "Hey! What’s going on!"

"Can you believe what happened this year?" she whispered and looked up into the sky.

"Yeah, I can… because for me it was just a matter of time until a team finally acknowledged your potential and offered you a seat…" I answered and she chuckled a little "What?"

"You always had this undying hope in me… I think I never thanked you for that?" she looked at me and I shook my head.

"Because you don’t have to. Did I ever thank you for being… for being my anchor?" I said.

"Your anchor?" she asked curiously, tilting her head, looking adorably confused.

"My anchor. You’re always by my side, no matter what. Even when staying close meant getting hurt in the process, over and over again. You never left. I can rely on you. I can always count on your support. You give me stability, security. But above all, you gave me hope in times when I needed it the most. You’re anchoring me whenever I have the feeling that all of this… this shit drags me away…" I tried to explain it as best as possible, although I knew that words would never be enough to explain to her how much I needed her in my life.

"Well, then I guess you’re my anchor, too." she said and I shook my head.

"No, ma belle. I have to step up a lot to be an anchor for you the way you are for me." I said.

"I don’t think so…" she smiled at me.

Behind us I could hear our family and friends count down and as the clock struck midnight the fireworks were lighting up the sky.

"Happy New Year, ma belle!"

"Happy New Year, Charlie bear!"

I pulled her into my side and kissed her temple.

This was going to be our year.

Lizzie would finally drive in Formula 1.

I would hopefully bring Ferrari back to its old glory.

And most importantly, this year I would make her mine.

"So, uhm, there is something I wanted to talk to you about…" I said and Charles paused the episode of Brooklyn 99 and looked at me.

"Okay? Everything alright?" he asked and sat up straight. I just nodded.

"It’s… well I got the call from Felix… so the FIA were asking about my… about my driver number…" I said and whispered the last words.

"Your driver number? What’s with it?" he seemed confused and I swallowed hard.

"You know, now that Kimi retired, the 7 would be available…" I began and Charles realised what I was on about "And I wondered if it would be okay for you, if I take it?"

"Oh ma belle! Of course it is? For me it was clear as day that you would choose the 7? It’s our number? Always was, always will be!" he laughed and I relaxed a little, sighed relieved "You didn’t have to ask, you know?"

"It’s just… I know how you wanted the 7, but couldn’t have it…" I mumbled and Charles pulled me into his side.

"I would love nothing more than for you to have it, ma belle!" he said and kissed my temple, then started the TV again.

"Now look a bit more intimidating, yes! Perfect!" the Photographer said and I posed for another 15 minutes until he finally was satisfied "I’d say we have a lot of footage to work with! Thanks Lizzie!"

"How do you like the suits?" Felix asked and I smiled at him.

"I absolutely love them!" I say and he smiles.

"So you and Valtteri will decide which one you’re having. He should be here any minute and then you can discuss." and right as Felix finished, the Finnish driver walked up the set.

I was nervous, to say the least. I’ve seen Valtteri before, obviously, but today was our first official meeting as teammates. And there was a lot on our agenda today.

"Valtteri, hi, umm it’s so cool to meet you, like officially! Umm I’m Lizzie, hi!" I ramble a little and stretch my hand out and he takes it smiling.

"Lizzie, good to see you, again." he shook my hand and I smiled, thankful that he was pretending like I wasn’t a nervous mess "So, how do you like the suits? Which one is your favourite?" he takes the sheet Felix hands him, then I’ll take mine.

"I like the second one more, I like the flow of the, let’s call them arrows, down the legs. Looks more active, you know what I mean?" I said and Valtteri nodded "Which one do you prefer?"

"The second one as well. I like the details at the legs, the other one is a bit boring. So yeah, I’ll vote for… AF1/XPERformance…" he said and I smiled.

"Alright you guys, then Valtteri hop on in and then you’ll have some more photo shoots." Felix clapped and walked off to talk to the Photographer.

"So, the flag of Monaco?" Valtteri asked and shook his head in the direction where I just laid the document on the table.

"Yeah, it’s a little tribute." I answered and Valtteri smiled.

"I get that people often think that you guys are a couple." he laughed and I blushed a little.

"It’s not just for Charles, it’s also for his dad. He never had a doubt that I would make it in F1 one day. And since he’s not here anymore. I’ll carry the flag of his beloved home with me, for him and Charles." I said and Valtteri nodded.

"That’s really beautiful." he smiled and I zipped up my suit.

"And we're done. Thank you guys!" George, our Photographer said and clicked through the pictures "Yeah we have more than enough. Good job everyone!"

"Alright, sit down, have a drink, Julie should be here any minute now." Felix said and Valtteri poured himself a coffee and gestured into my way and I just shook my head.

"Who’s Julie?" I ask as a young woman walks up behind Felix.

"That’s me. Hi. I’m Julie Mahle. PR-Manager, Content creator and your personal PR-Assistant at race weekends. Nice to meet you, Lizzie!" she says and she shakes my hand, then she walks to Valtteri and does the same "The next days we will film 2 Audi challenges, that’s little completions between you guys that we upload on our channels to entertain our fans in between races. We will have 10 over the course of the whole season. Tomorrow, after the big car launch, we will also have an Instagram live Q&A with you guys."

Valtteri and I nodded and looked at the plan Julie gave us. The Audi challenges seem to be funny and I was already excited to film them. Tomorrow we would start with a ‘What’s in the Box' segment and I laughed, thinking back to my PREMA times when Charles almost lost it when he touched something that felt like a real snake but was in fact only a rubber one.

"Sounds fun!" I said and Julie smiled "I’m sorry Valtteri, but I’m going to crush you…"

"Oh wow! We’re starting the competition early on, I see!" he chuckled and nudged my shoulder.

"I had a long time with nothing to compete in… so now I’m overcompensating I guess!" I laughed and he nodded.

"May the better driver win!" he said.

"Don’t, worry, I’ll plan to!" I smirked at him and he laughed.

"I’m nervous! Like really, really nervous Charlie! I think I will throw up!" I murmured and Charles only chuckled.

"It’s going to be fine, you’ll see! You go out on stage! You wave a little, answer some questions, say something about the car, they will take pictures and then it’s done!" he encouraged me and I nodded.

"I didn’t think the car launch would be this stressful already!" I whined "I bet my ass that there are at least 15 journalists who hate me and can’t wait to ask me questions to destroy me…"

"Just smile that gorgeous smile of yours and they will love you anyway!" Charles said and I smiled at him.

"Lizzie? Are you ready?" Julie walked up to me, Valtteri in tow.

"I have to leave, I’ll call you tonight?" I said to Charles and he nodded.

"Have fun, ma belle!" he said and ended the call.

"And now Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce you to our two drivers: Lizzie Doetterer and Valtteri Bottas!" Felix said and with one last deep breath I entered the stage, followed by Valtteri. I waved to the crowd, smiling as best as I could without looking too tense. The applause died down as I stood next to Felix.

"When we decided to make our move into F1 way earlier than planned, we had a close eye on the drivers that would be available for our line-up. One thing was for sure for all of us: we wanted an experienced driver, someone with enough confidence and knowledge to give us valuable feedback, someone who would step up and guide our next driver, because we also knew we wanted someone young, talented, hungry, fast and determined. We started this process in early 2020 and we had our eyes immediately on Lizzie, her talent, determination, race craft, skills, enthusiasm but above all her fighter mentality were for us the main factor to put her really far up on our list. And when we heard that Valtteri would be available? We knew that he was the right driver for us. His race craft, awareness, dedication and experience was exactly what we wanted." Felix explained their choices for choosing us as driver line-up and Valtteri smiled at me, I just chuckled and bumped slightly into his shoulder.

"We spent the last year developing our car with the input and feedback from Lizzie, who was not only test driving our car on several tracks, no, she spent over 250 hours in our simulator, working meticulously on every fine tuning there was. And after the final input from Valtteri, we are now more than confident in our car and it is safe to say that we want to race for wins! And I think with the work and effort everyone at the factory put in, the feedback of our two drivers, it is possible to do so!" Felix said and I felt myself blush a little when the crowd, including Felix and Valtteri, clapped after he mentioned the endless hours of simulator work.

"We, the Audi Sports Formula 1 Team with our drivers Lizzie Doetterer, driver number 7 and Valtteri Bottas, driver number 77, are proud to present to you the Audi ARS-22." together with Valtteri I pulled the veil off of the car and the crowd started to clap and cameras were flashing. We posed together next to the car and I felt how my tense smile slowly turned into a relaxed one. I looked at the car, my car, the 7 shining bright on the bonnet, and I felt a sense of pride, excitement and happiness surge through my body. This was really happening.

"Toiletry bag. Check. Jeans. Check. Hoodies. Check. Shirts. Check. Sweatpants. Check. Underwear. Check. Socks… Socks? Check. Jacket. Check. Leggings. Check. Scarf. Check. Beanie. Check. MacBook Charger… Charger? Where the fuck…?" I was packing my suitcase when the door behind me opened up.

"You’re not allowed to say fuck!" Liam shouted and I turned around, looking at him.

"Well… yes I can! I’m a grown up! I am allowed to say these kinda words!" I chuckled and he walked in and plopped down on my bed. Hands in his hoodie pocket.

"That’s unfair!" he said and I shook my head.

"Nope it’s not! Can you help me? I’m looking for my charger?" I asked him and he smiled sheepishly, pulling out my charger out of his pocket "You little charger thief!"

"I’m not! It was downstairs and Oma said to bring it to you!" he said, outraged.

"Oh! I beg your pardon, Bubba! Thank you for bringing it to me!" I kissed his cheek and packed the charger into my suitcase. Next I packed my MacBook, camera, headphones, wallet and passport into my backpack. I checked one last time my suitcase, then I closed it up and put it down on the floor.

"All done?" Liam asked.

"All done!" I answered and sat down next to him.

We watched tv together as Dad looked into my room with a big grin on his face. I sat up excitedly.

"You got it!" I exclaimed and he nodded.

"Yup, it’s here." he said and I jumped up, Liam looking confused, I scooped him up and threw him over my shoulder "Come on Bubba! Let’s go!"

"Where are we going? Who’s here?" he laughed as he was swinging on my shoulder when I walked down the stairs. I sat him down on the floor, on the table a cardboard box.

"How does it look?" I asked and Dad chuckled.

"Well, I like it. It’s really clean looking." he said and I opened up the box with shaking hands.

"Oh! It’s your helmet!" Liam realised and climbed on the table to sit next to the box.

I pulled my helmet out, some styrofoam nuggets falling out in the process.

"It looks like your car!" Liam looked at it with big eyes.

"That was the plan, Bubba. How do you like the design?" I asked him and he tilted his head a little.

"Put it on!" he said and I said "It looks so cool! Like the coolest really!"

"You think so?" I opened the visor and he nodded "Perfect!" I took it off and set it on the table.

"Here, Patrick said you should scan the QR code for the pictures." Dad handed me a little card.

"Perfect. I’ll post it later on." I said and looked at my helmet. I sat it back down on the table, as Dad handed me the helmet bag.

"You’re done with packing?" he asked as he helped me pack the helmet away.

"Yup, ready when you are." I answered and he nodded.

"I’ll get your suitcase and backpack." Dad said and left.

"Alright, Bubba! You promise me to be on your best behaviour while I’m gone?" I said and hugged Liam.

"Promise! And you promise me to try to be back for my birthday party on Saturday?" he whispered and I nodded.

"I’ll try my best, Liam. But just in case I can’t be here in time, that’s why we celebrated yesterday already together, right?" I said and he sighed a little, then he nodded. What he didn’t know was that not only would I be back in time for his party, I would also bring along someone else.

"You’re leaving now?" Sissy asked as she came into the kitchen.

"Yeah." I said and she smiled and hugged me.

"Good luck, Schwesti!" she said and I smiled.

"Thanks, where is Mum?" I said as Mum came from outside.

"I’m here! Don’t worry, I’m not letting you go without saying goodbye!" she walked over, kissed my cheek and hugged me tight "Goodbye, my sweet girl! Good luck! Show them that you earned this seat!"

"I will Mum!" I said and she released me.

One last kiss from Liam and I walked with Dad out in the cold.

"Formula 1 season 2022, here she comes!" Dad said as we got into the car and the driver pulled out of the driveway.

"Mercedes really wasn’t as fast as expected? But with them you never know…" I said as we sat in the back of the car "But George adapted really well, don’t you think?"

"Yeah, but George always has been good, he was just in a team that wasn’t." Charles said and I nodded "But it looked like Lewis was struggling a little? I don’t know if it’s the car or if it’s George… thinking he’s the future to replace him?"

"You think? I mean he’s still Lewis Hamilton. Last season was… it was unfortunate. But still." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Which leaves only Red Bull left… They were fast. Like really fast!" Charles said and I thought about how Checo breezed past me, almost pushing me off track "But they’re beatable."

"Yeah, I think they were sandbagging a lot… that car? That has a lot more potential to unlock!" I said and he looked out the window for a moment.

"I think they definitely weren’t showing their full speed… but who really has?" he said and I thought for a moment, it was normal to not show the full performance of the engine to not show the competitors everything, but still, it was interesting to see how fast, or slow in some cases, the cars were considering the circumstances.

"You were also pretty fast…" I began and Dad in the passenger seat chuckled.

"You too! I mean you were flying! If that is not everything you got? Phewww you’re real competition!" Charles said and I looked at him "What?"

"Were you doubting it? You sound so surprised?" I asked and he shook his head immediately.

"No! I swear! I wasn’t! I was- umm I was just so happy to see you beating some of the guys!" he said fast.

"Relax, I’m just messing with you." I laughed and he pinched my side "You should’ve seen the look on your face!"

"Payback’s a bitch as you know!" he said and the car stopped. "So, ready to surprise our little Bubba?" he jumped out of the car and Dad and I followed him quickly.

We quietly walked in, Mum saw us and smiled, Liam stood with his back to us, watching as one of his friends explained something to him. Charles and I approached him and both leaned down at each of his sides.

"Booooohhh!" Charles and I shouted and Liam flinched.

"Charlie! Lizzie!" he smiled and hugged first Charles and then me "You both made it!"

"Do you really think we would miss out on your 4th birthday, Bubba?" Charles asked and Liam shook his head and beamed at him.

"I’m just here for the cake." I said and shrugged my shoulders, both boys exchanging one look and then wrestling me down on the mat, tickling my sides "Okay, okay! I’m not just here for the cake! Stop it now! I will retreat!" Charles pulled me with him up and Liam hugged my leg.

"Are you getting on the trampoline with us?" he asked us and we both nodded.

"Are you kidding? Of course!" Charles scooped him up on his back and gave him a piggyback ride to the entry, I followed close behind "Alright, ladies first!"

"Oh thank you, kind Sir!" I chuckled and took my shoes off and walked up the stairs.

"This is the best birthday ever!" Liam said and I smiled at him.

"Let’s go and hunt her down!" Charles said and both lunged at me.

"You made his day!" Mum said as I sat down, downing a bottle of water "He was hoping you would come, but now that Charles is here?"

"I’m forgotten… I know." I joked and she laughed "I definitely need to talk to JK. Phewww I’m out of breath! While Charles is still jumping around like there is no tomorrow!"

"You need your…" Mum began but I already inhaled once, putting my inhalator back in my bag "How was the driving? Is it working with your lungs and your back? Be honest!"

"It was good. Little exhausting, but that’s normal. Really Mum, no need to worry!" I answered and she nodded.

"Dr. Lindner called, he wanted to check in if your appointment on Monday is set." she said and I nodded.

"Yeah, I had his call on my phone but I just never had a quiet minute to call him back, did you say yes? Perfect, thanks Mum." I smiled at her as Charles plopped down next to me. I handed him a bottle of water and he smiled thankful.

"These kids? Wow… driving twice through Singapore isn’t that exhausting!" he chuckled and Mum patted his arm in sympathy.

"It’s anyways about time for the cake!" she got up and together with Sissy they called for the kids to come up to the table in 15 minutes.

We gathered around the table, Liam stood on a chair in front of his cake, and sang him a happy Birthday. He was the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time and I knew it was because Charles was here. Whenever he was here, Liam was the happiest. Me being his favourite was a long time ago.

The pre-season tests in Bahrain were over and the first race week of the 2022 Formula 1 Championship began 2 days ago.

"Did you expect something else?" JK asked as I drank something.

"I mean Red Bull? 100%! But Ferrari? They were so quick? Mercedes has nothing against them!" I said and he nodded "It’s going to be interesting, that’s for sure!"

"Most definitely! And now down again!" he took my bottle and pushed me flat on the bench "We’re not done for today!"

"I slightly regret asking you to be my performance coach… I forgot how much joy it brings you to torture me." I mumbled and JK laughed.

"No pain, no gain." he said and I groaned.

"Can we join in?" Charles said from somewhere behind me.

"Yeah sure, how you doing mate!" JK greeted Charles and then Andrea behind him "Liz maybe stops complaining now that we’re not alone anymore." he joked.

"I want to flip you off so bad…" I said and he laughed even more.

"Come on, princess. 3, 2, 1. And down. Wasn’t too hard now, was it?" JK said and I sat up.

"How do you feel?" Charles asked as he sat down on the bench next to me while Andrea adjusted his weights.

"Pretty good to be honest. I feel like now that we had the second tests and the set ups look great I’m ready, you know?" I said and Charles nodded.

"And how are you mentally? Lizzie, I’ve seen what the people are still writing about you, that nasty blog? Whoever is behind it? They downright hate you, for no apparent reason!" he said and I sighed.

"Yeah, people talk shit all the time, I don’t care." I said and grabbed my towel to dry my face. The truth was, I knew exactly who wrote that blog. It was a blog sponsored by ESPN Spain and Marca, one of Spain's biggest sport newspapers. And the writer said he met me once during my time in the WSeries at the race in Assen where I didn’t impress him at all and was apparently arrogant towards the writer when he met me. Counting one and one together it could only be Salva Diaz.

"That’s good, that you don’t let it get to your head." Charles said and began with his work out.

"Liz?" JK looked at me and I got up, he put the resistance bands around my head and I tried to focus on his pull instead of the blog. I couldn’t do anything about it, without telling what happened that day, so I would just ignore it. "Ready? Alright." JK pulled at the band and I tended my neck muscles to withstand the pull of JK "Hold it, hold it… okay 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Relax. Deep breaths… Ready? Go." after 9 reps JK handed me my bottle "How does it feel? Neck and back?"

"Tense? No, it’s fine, really." I said and he nodded.

"Front squats now." he said and prepared the weights "60?"

"70." I said and put my bottle down and prepared.

"10 reps. Let’s go." I focused on the weights, doing squat after squat.

"3, 2, 1. Down. Good job." JK patted my back and I gasped for air a little "Maybe a bit too heavy?"

"No. It was good! Come on! Let’s go!" I said and waited for JK.

"Hip thrusters next." he waved over to the bench and I got down on the floor "Make sure that you use your thighs more than your calves, you push up from your lower leg… yes, that’s better…"

"It’s not heavy enough, I can take more… make it 110."

"Okay. But if it’s too much…" JK put the weight on and I began again "… and 3, 2, 1. Down. Well done. Take a little break."

I sat on the bench, drinking my water as Charles sat down next to me.

"That’s a pretty tough routine? Don’t look at me like that! It’s more like, damn I don’t do 10 reps of front squats, kettlebell swings, hip thrusters, sumo deadlifts, military press, back extensions and crunches and that 5 times… plus cardio and neck training. Andrea said he might adjust my workout routine after he has seen what you’re doing!" he said and I laughed.

"I have to work out harder, because I've been out of the car for more than 2 years and didn’t work out like that! It’s just to make me as fit as possible!" I answered and he nodded.

"At least we can train together from now on!" he smiled at me.

"Yeah… that we can." I answered as JK came back.

"Ready for round 4?" he asked and I sighed but nodded.

"It’s like you said, no pain no gain!" and I got up.

"What about some yoga? You guys in?" I asked Charles and Andrea as I ended my last set and drank some water.

"Yoga?" Charles repeated and chuckled a little.

"It’s good for the muscles after an intense work out session. It promotes blood circulation and relieves tension in the muscles." JK explained and Andrea nodded.

"Let’s try something new then!" he said and walked up to us, Charles in tow.

JK stood in front of us, showing us the different poses and I did them easily, this was a part of my daily routine. Charles and Andrea on the other hand struggled a little but after a short while they managed to copy JK‘s poses. As we were done I leaned down, bending over completely and tensed my glutes, wrapping my arms around my ankles and counted down from 20, I always finished like this, one last stretch in my lower back.

"Charles? Hey! Are you listening? Are you good?" Andrea laughed behind me and I got up slowly and looked at them. Charles' cheeks were flushed and he looked a little nervous.

"Umm? Yeah. Fine. Totally fine." Charles said and turned around, walking to the bench where his bag was. I followed him.

"Hey? Are you sure you’re okay?" I asked him and he swallowed hard.

"Uh-huh! Sure, I’m good…" he answered.

"Okay… so later dinner together? I thought about going out. Tomorrow the season officially starts…" I said and Charles nodded.

"Yeah sure! Sounds good!" he answered and I smiled.

"Now I just need a shower…" and with that we left the gym.

"Stop being so nervous! It’s going to be okay!" Charles whispered as we stood in front of the conference room, waiting for us to be called in.

"I don’t know, I have a bad feeling, I can’t really explain why…" I said and Charles sighed.

"I’ll be right next to you! As well as Seb and Pierre! So come on now! Smile that beautiful smile of yours and all will be good!" he said and I nodded a little as the door opened.

"Let’s go…" I whispered and followed Charles in, Seb was the first one on the stage, followed by Charles, then me, Pierre and Lewis. I sat down and took a deep breath. I can do this.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first race of the 2022 Formula 1 season, here in Bahrain. Now a very warm welcome to our first drivers Sebastian Vettel from Aston Martin, Charles Leclerc from Scuderia Ferrari, for the first time ever Lizzie Doetterer for Audi Sports, Pierre Gasly for Alpha Tauri and Sir Lewis Hamilton for Mercedes AMG. Now let’s start with you Lizzie, first woman in F1 since 1976, how did you spend your winter, preparing for your first season in Formula 1?" Tom Clarkson looked at me with an encouraging smile and I calmed myself down.

"With a lot of work out sessions, studies of data and analytics, I also spent a lot of time in the simulator. That’s mainly wha-…" I began and looked for one second into the crowd of journalists as I saw him and my breathing ragged. Sitting in the third row with a devilishly smirk on his lips was Salva Diaz. Charles next to me realised immediately that something was wrong and followed my gaze. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath "Yeah, that’s mainly what I was doing during my winter break. Of course I also spent time with my family and friends and tried to have my mind in the right place. But above all I was just counting down the days for the season to start." I finished and forced myself to smile, trying not to look in his direction.

I didn’t listen to what was said next, I only focused on my breathing and trying to stay as calm as possible. If he’s here, then he will definitely try to ask something and as far as I know him, it would be very inappropriate and sexist.

"… and I think it’s a step in the right direction in terms of equality and diversity to have her here with us." Sebastian said and I looked up. Were they talking about me?

"Lewis?" Clarkson said.

"Yeah, I can only agree with what Charles and Seb said, it’s sad that it took so long for the motorsports world to recognise the talents of female drivers. But I’m really glad that it finally worked out and Lizzie’s here now with us, she’ll be a role model for a whole bunch of girls out there, showing that their dreams can come true." Lewis said and I smiled shyly at him.

"Alright, thank you Lewis. Let’s open this to the floor now and please remember to give your name and publication… first question, please."

"John Barrow, Motorsports Mag. Question for Lizzie. You’re 24 now, not really a young rookie anymore, with many young, talented drivers in F2 right now, hoping for a seat in F1, do you think it’s fair that you took the last open seat, after not being in the sport for years whereas they were fighting for your spot?" the journalist asked and Charles next to me scoffed.

"Connard." Pierre whispered under his breath on my other side. (asshole)

"Umm- of course I’m aware of the amazing drivers that are currently in F2 and I know their desire to make the final step into F1 all too well, I was in their position 4/ 5 years ago. But I was out of the sport not by my own choice? I was forced to, by almost dying… so yeah. I don’t think it’s unfair." I said, looking over at Charles, a murderous look on his face.

"Jean Michel, L'Équipe. Question for Lizzie. Where do you see yourself and the car after the tests? The target from Audi was to fight for wins, but do you think that you’re able to fight at the top, or is the midfield more the area you would see yourself?"

"Car wise I think we showed in the tests so far that we have a good car with a lot of pace, so yeah I think we, or specifically I as you asked, can fight for wins." The next questions were almost all directed at me, more or less the same thing: do I really think I am good enough for this. I felt my anxiety crippling up my spine with every new question and I began to fiddle with my cuticles, feeling the stinging in my eyes. As I thought a second of the next answer I was going to give, I felt the lump in my throat getting bigger and bigger.

"Okay, I think that’s enough. We established by now that Lizzie is feeling capable of driving in F1 and I have no doubt that she will impress all of us, I’ve seen her multiple times on track and from Charles I know how she was back in karting. So I’d say there has been said everything there is to say on that matter." Seb said, his voice calm and collected, although his face clearly showed disdain.

"Right, so we got time for another question? Any other question, please?" Tom Clarkson asked the journalists and I looked around, Salva Diaz holding up his hand and my heart sunk into the pit of my stomach.

"Salva Diaz. Marca. Question for Lizzie. There have been a lot of rumours in the past, about if you and Charles are dating or not. But aside from that, you have now a pool of 19 men around you to choose from, who is the one that attracts you the most, or is it maybe even more than one, you might persuade?" he asked, looking at me with a disgusting smirk.

"Seriously mate? This question is inappropriate!" Lewis said as Charles next to me tensed up and clenched his jaw.

"It’s a question many people are asking themselves?" Diaz countered.

"Yeah? Then these many people can fuck off. We’re done." Charles was furious and got up, standing in front of me, waiting for me to get up "Come on, ma belle, we’re leaving." he said quietly in French and I looked up at him. My eyes glossy. He pulled me up and walked behind me, guiding me, with his hand at the small of my back, out of the conference room.

"I’m okay Charles…" I whispered as he led me through the door.

"Yeah, maybe. But I’m not." he answered and I looked over my shoulder and saw Seb and Lewis discussing with Pierre "That was not okay! All of the questions for you? And then that last guy? What the fuck?"

"It’s okay. It’s done now." I said and he just shook his head.

"I hope they won’t do that again!" Charles said.

"They will. I’m an easy target." I replied and Charles sighed.

"We’ll find a solution…" he said and I nodded, as we walked back to our hospitalities.

The fanzone was loud and a sea of people donning merch of every team. I was almost ecstatic to see people wearing Audi merch with my logo on it, even some posters for me. It was all happening in a blur. The questions asked, my answers. A bit of banter with Valtteri and then we walked off the stage to the fans, Valtteri in front and me behind him, nervously I thought to myself if someone even wanted my autograph or a picture with me. But as soon as we arrived at the fence the fans started screaming Valtteris but also my name. I signed t-shirts, flags, magazine covers, drivers cards, caps, even some arms. As a young girl held up a t-shirt for me to sign, she made big eyes when I signed it.

"Lizzie! You’re sooo amazing! Here! That’s for you!" the young girl handed me a bracelet and I beamed at her.

"For me?" I repeated and she nodded.

"Yes! Here we have another one!" the girl next to her handed me another bracelet.

"Oh my god! Thank you sooo much! They look amazing!" I smiled at them as I put the two bracelets on my wrist "I love them! They are so pretty!"

"We hope you win this weekend, Lizzie!" the one girl said.

"I will try my best!" I said and then we took a selfie together "I hope you have an amazing weekend here, girls!" I waved one last time before I was ushered away by a security guy. I took selfies here and there, signed more merch and other stuff and even received some more bracelets. At the end of the fence was a little girl, full in Audi merch, waving excitedly.

"Look at you! You look amazing!" I said as I stopped in front of her.

"Lizzie! You’re so cool!" she said in German and I smiled at her "You are the best driver!"

"Maybe not the best, but yeah…" I laughed and she shook her head.

"Papa said, if you made it into F1 you must be the best!" she answered and her dad behind her chuckled.

"She’s right! We’re so proud to see a girl making it into F1! And then a German driver in a German team!" he said and I smiled.

"Thank you so much for your support!" I said and signed the cap the little girl handed me.

"Can we take a picture together?" she asked shyly.

"Absolutely!" I answered and we all crouched together to take a picture.

"Here, that’s for you!" the little girl handed me another bracelet and I put it on immediately.

"Thank you so much! It looks amazing!" I said and looked at the bracelet on my wrist.

"Can I hug you?" the girl asked and I smiled.

"Yes! Definitely!" I answered and embraced the little girl "That's what I needed! Thank you so much!"

"We hope you win on Sunday!" she said and her dad nodded in agreement.

"I will try my very best!" I said and smiled one last time before I had to leave.

"Look at that! I got some bracelets! They are all so pretty!" I showed Charles my bracelets and he held my hand and inspected them.

"They really are pretty." he said and I smiled even brighter.

"I was always so… I wouldn’t say jealous, but yeah kinda, when I saw all the bracelets you got… and now I got some myself!" I said and he chuckled a little.

"I have so many by now, I always feel bad when I don’t wear them all. I always switch between them, taking a couple for one weekend and then some others for the next." Charles said and I nodded.

"Maybe I will get one day as well as many as you, but for now I love the ones I have!" I said and he smiled at me.

"I told you, the people will love you! How could they not?" he said and played with the bracelets around my wrist.

"Yeah, it’s just hard to grasp, you know? I’m here now, people are actually cheering for me after all the negativity of the past months? I just don’t want to disappoint them!" I said quietly and looked down, Charles grabbing my chin gently and tilting my head up.

"As long as you give 100% and be the best you can be, you won’t disappoint anyone!" he said firmly and I nodded a little.

"I will give my best… but I know there will be people out there, even journalists, experts or whatever that will crucify me for any small mistake that I’m making. There will be so many people for whom I’ll never be good enough…" I sighed but Charles shook his head.

"Ignore those people! You are one of the best drivers on the grid, believe in yourself!" he said and I smiled a little.

"I will try my best." I said and he pulled me into his side.

"You got this."

The first few laps were good, the car was bouncing a lot, but we expected it from what we’ve seen during the tests already. Apart from that I felt comfortable.

"Lizzie, start your out lap now. Have an eye on the fronts in turn 3 and 6. Mind the curb in turn 8. Valtteri was brushing it a lot there!" Pete said over the radio

"Copy."

I did as told and completed a fast lap.

"Good lap, Lizzie. P4. Box next lap."

"Alright."

The next laps I would test out the medium tires and I felt immediately how much faster I could go.

"Tires are really good." I pushed the radio button.

"Understood. One more try, then box.”

"Ok."

I warmed my tires and began my lap. I weaved through the track and the pace of the car was amazing, but when I drove into turn 10, I braked slightly too much and my tires locked up and I spun off the track, a full 360, but I managed to not lose the car.

"Track clear?" I asked.

"Wait for Albon and then all clear."

Alex drove past me and I joined the track again. I took a deep breath, great. FP1 and I almost lost the car already. I drove straight to the pits where I got wheeled back into the garage. I opened my visor as Pete walked over to me.

"I think we need to check the floor." I said.

"Alright." he nodded to Matt, one of the mechanics as they brought down the screens. I checked the lap times, compared them with the others. Then I watched my spin and shook my head.

"I’m sorry…" I began but Pete shook his head.

"Charles reported he almost lost the car as well, right after you. There must be a slippery patch. So look out on the next lap." he answered and I nodded.

I was almost certain that there wasn’t a slippery patch or something. I simply braked too hard and my tires locked up. I couldn’t think about it any longer as Matt gave Pete the all clear.

"Ready?" Pete asked and I gave him the thumbs up, closing my visor.

"First day is over, how do you feel?" Andrea asked and I shrugged my shoulders a little, poking at my salad.

"Good, I guess? I mean it was a good day, result wise, I think?" I answered and Dad chuckled a little.

"Lizzie, you were P8 and P7. That’s more than good, result wise." Pierre said and Charles nodded.

"I think you could’ve been even faster, you were a bit hesitant at some corners, I think?" he looked at me and I sighed.

"It’s my first race weekend. I don't want to crash out before I make it into the race!" I replied and Charles rolled his eyes.

"Stop thinking like that! Just drive." he said and Pierre nodded agreeing.

"He’s right. Get everything out of your head and just drive. The rest will come on its own." Pierre said and I forced myself to smile, then I took a big gulp of my water.

"You’ll do great. You’ll see." Seb said and patted my arm.

"Listen to him, he’s a world champion!" Felix said and we laughed.

"Yeah, you’re right. In Seb we trust" I said and Seb rolled his eyes.

"What?" Charles asked after a while.

"What?" I looked up at him.

"You want to say something… I feel it. Something is bothering you." he sat up against the headboard.

I sighed and sat up, thinking about how to phrase what’s on my mind.

"It’s umm… in FP1. When I spun… why did you say you almost lost it there? Why did you say there was a slippery patch on the track? I was braking too hard. My tires locked up a little, that’s why I spun…" I said, not looking at him.

"Because it was slip-…" Charles began and I glared at him "Fine. I knew that you would

immediately think about what the media would say and so I thought that if I also have a problem at the spot and say that it’s slippery…"

"… the media leave me alone and won’t tear me apart for screwing up in FP1 already?" I finished his sentence and he nodded a little.

"I’m sorry… it’s just… I know that you read all that crap they write about you and that is not really the best for your confidence! So yeah…" he admitted sheepishly.

"Thank you, Charlie!" I whispered as I hugged him.

"You know I would do everything for you!" he whispered back.

"But Charles?" I pulled away and looked at him.

"You want me to say that I’ll never do it again…" he said and I nodded "I will try my best, it’s just… in my mind it just clicks and I want to protect you, so… yeah I will try to stop it."

"Thanks, really…" I kissed his cheek and he smiled "And now, I go. We need to sleep!"

"You could also stay? We always shared a room in F2 and even when I was in F1 and you in F2?" Charles said and I thought for a second "I sleep better when you’re next to me…"

"Yeah… me too!" I replied and he smiled.

"Perfect."

"Don’t risk too much, but push as hard as you can."

Charles' words in the back of my mind as I started my flying lap. Trying everything I could to reach Q3.

"Are we through?"

"We are through. P9." Pete said.

"Nice one!"

I drove back into the pits, got a new set of tires, checking my laps.

"You can push a little more." Pete said and pointed out some of the turns, where I was a little more careful than at other turns.

"Alright."

I got into heavy traffic, my mind went racing. I had yet to set a lap time after my last was deleted due to track limits. It was now or never. I accelerated and pushed the throttle as hard as I could and crossed the start line. Full focus now on the track. I was like in a tunnel, nothing else on my mind. I saw the checkered flag and pushed the radio button.

"Tell me we’ve made it?!"

"You’ve done it! You’re in Q3!"

"Valtteri?"

"His last lap time was deleted. He’s P15."

"Damn it. He’ll make up for it in the race!"

"Exactly."

P8 in Q2. It wouldn’t be a bad starting position for my first ever Formula 1 race. But I still had one last chance to make some places up. I drove out of the garage and started to warm my tires.

"Who’s on track with me?"

"Right now Hamilton, Russell, Gasly will pit now. Perez, Magnussen on track. Charles, Verstappen and Sainz are at the pit exit."

"Copy."

"Don’t risk too much, but push as hard as you can." Charles' words again in my head. Also how he said stop thinking just drive. And I just did that. I blanked everything else out. I just drove.

"Brilliant job, Lizzie!"

"Woooohoooooo! YES! Well done team! Thank you guys so much!"

"That was an amazing lap, you’re only 0.095 seconds behind Hamilton! Terrific job!"

"Thanks guys! Where’s Charles?"

"Charles is on pole."

"YES! Awesome! So happy for him!"

"Lizzie, first of all, congrats! P6 for tomorrow! That was an amazing lap!" Will Buxton congratulated me.

"Thanks! It was an amazing job by the team, they sent me out at the right times, tyre choices were amazing. That was a great team effort!" I smiled at him.

"But it was also a brilliant drive from you! You were also a good teammate there, asking straight for Valtteri and later even checking up on Charles?" he asked me and I nodded.

"Valtteri was over the last few weeks such an amazing help for me! He helped me to adjust to the car, showed me what to look at, how to go check certain things. He’s been an amazing mentor and I wished he would’ve been with me in Q3, but I know he will come back stronger tomorrow in the race." I answered and he nodded "And Charles… I mean, I obviously keep on checking for him, I’m so proud of him after that qualifying and hope he can convert that pole into a win."

"So no win for you?" Will chuckled.

"I mean, pace wise it will be really hard to catch up to him. But yeah we’ll see what we can do."

"First Drivers Parade… nervous?" Valtteri asked as we got on the low loader truck.

"No? Yes? I don’t know?" I answered and he chuckled, then nudged my shoulder.

"You’ll be fine, I know it!" he said and I nodded, he clapped Charles on the back who approached us "Hey mate."

"Hi Valtteri." Charles smiled at the Finish driver as he walked off, then he looked at me "You look a little pale?"

"I’m good… I just want the race to start now!" I admitted and Charles laughed.

"Yeah, I remember how I was before my first race. I just wanted to get into the car and drive…" he said and I smiled.

"I know, I was there!" I replied and we laughed.

"You were… like you’re everywhere that’s important to me!" he said and pulled me into his side "And now smile and wave at the crowd!" and I did just that.

"We’re all so proud of you Lizzie! You’ll be amazing!" Mum said and I smiled at her.

"Show me! Lizzie! Look what I’m wearing!" Liam came into frame, clad in Audi merch from head to toe.

"Oh wow Bubba! Look at you!" I laughed and he beamed at me.

"I’m your biggest fan! Oh… but also Charlie’s! Like both of you!" Liam said and I smiled at him.

"I think we can happily share your support!" I said and Charles walked up next to me, football in one hand "Speak of the devil!" I tilted the phone so that Liam could see Charles.

"Hey Bubba! I see you’re ready for the race!" he said and Liam nodded.

"But look what I wear under!" Liam said and lifted his Audi shirt, revealing a Ferrari shirt.

"Look at you!" Charles laughed and Liam was happy that he made both of us happy.

"I’d say now Charlie has to win!" Dad said behind us and Liam nodded.

"Yes! Charlie wins and Lizzie makes it onto the podium!" he agreed and I laughed.

"Sure! I’ll try my best!" I smiled at him.

"I have a good feeling that Lizzie will be on the podium, Bubba!" Charles said and I rolled my eyes a little.

"We gotta go now, Liam! I’ll call you after the race!" I said and Charles nodded.

"Bye little one!" he said and Liam sent us air kisses.

"Good luck!" he yelled before he ended the call.

"Warm up a little?" Charles asked and I nodded, grabbing the ball from him.

"Yup, let’s go."

Charles POV:

I stood in front of Lizzie’s garage, waiting for her and looked up at the picture of her, smiling down on me. Someone approached me and I looked down.

"Good luck, Charles! You can win this!" Juergen said and hugged me.

"Thanks, but shouldn’t you cheer for Lizzie?" I teased him and he rolled his eyes boxing my arm a little.

"I’m not picking a favourite out of you two! You battle it out on the track and the best should win… like back in the day!" he said and I smiled.

"Sounds fair!" I laughed as Lizzie walked out of the garage, her race suit rolled down to her waist "Ready?"

"Let’s vibe to the anthem I say!" she laughed and gave Juergen a kiss on the cheeks, hugged me and walked away "Come on Charlie!" I turned around and followed her as something caught my eye. Inside of Lizzie’s race suit was the Monegasque flag. I stopped abruptly. Lizzie took another 3 steps before she realised I wasn’t next to her, then she turned around.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, worried.

"Is that… Lizzie is that- is that the Monegasque flag?" I almost whispered it and her eyes widened a little as she blushed.

"Yeah… it’s umm- it’s a little tribute, for your Dad, he always said I would make it into F1. He never had any doubt, even when I had them… a lot. But he never doubted it for a second… so yeah, that’s for him." she said and I almost choked up "But it’s also for you, Charles, because you did as well. You always said we would drive one day together in F1 and here we are. You were always by my side, through thick and thin. You believed in me when I wasn’t anymore. So yeah, this is for you as well. My anchor."

I hugged her tight to my body, blinking the tears away.

"My anchor. Without you, I wouldn’t be here either. Tonight we make them proud!" I whispered and kissed her temple.

"Get a room, you two!" Pierre shouted as he walked past us, while Daniel did a wolf whistle.

"They’re just jealous, because I get to hold you close and they don’t!" I said, pulling away.

"No, that privilege belongs only to you." she said as she wiped away the tears from my cheeks "Damn, Leclerc. We’re not even racing yet and you’re already sweating."

I was taking one last breath. Closing my eyes. And then it started. The lights went out and I went off. Hamilton overtook Perez, then I overtook Perez, chasing Hamilton for that P4. Behind us was a little commotion but we were already too far gone to be involved. A yellow flag was waved, a moment later the track was clear again. I fully focused on Hamilton in front of me, staying as close as possible. As soon as the DRS was enabled I tried to catch up even further.

"Spare front left a bit." Pete radioed.

"Copy. Gap?"

"0.9. Stay like this and you’ll have DRS."

"Alright."

And DRS I had indeed, but Hamilton was clever, fighting off my attack lap after lap.

"Hamilton says tyres are really good."

"Yeah? He’s sliding a lot for that."

"How are yours?"

"Better. No sliding."

"Strat 1A then."

"Copy."

The next few laps I stayed close to Hamilton but he always was able to fight me off, no matter how hard I tried.

"Box, Box." Pete said and the next lap I drove into the pit lane, right after Hamilton.

2.4 seconds. A good stop. But I wasn’t the only one with a good one. Hamilton got released just as I approached him and I had to break to avoid us touching. No undercut then. Now it was all down to who would warm the tyres faster. The battle for the 4th place went on lap after lap, with me overtaking Hamilton and him overtaking me. Back and forth until our next pitstop. And after that it went on again like that.

"Do I have anything left? Pace wise?" I pushed the radio button and hoped for a miracle.

"We can try setting… safety car. Lizzie, Max has retired. It’s now a battle for the podium."

Battle for the podium? In my first race I could get a podium? I just had to overtake 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton for that. Something I failed for the past almost 50 laps. Game on.

"Box, Box."

I knew I had a set of new softs.

"Does he…" I began.

"Only used ones." Pete knew exactly what I wanted to ask.

A set of new softs. I warmed them as good as possible, preparing for the re-start. I knew Charles long enough to know when and where he would start and had an amazing re-start. I made a bold move, round the inside and Hamilton left enough space for me to squeeze past him, with the better tyres I had more traction for the next few corners and could defend my position. I was even able to keep him out of the DRS window as soon as it was enabled again.

"Hamilton now behind with 1.3 seconds. Sainz ahead with 1.1 seconds. 3 laps to go."

"Who’s faster?"

"You’re faster than Hamilton. Sainz is slightly faster than you."

"Copy."

3 more laps. Push through.

Penultimate lap. Come on.

Last lap. Only 5,412 km between me and my first ever F1 podium. Full focus.

Checkered flag. P3.

"GOOD JOB, LIZZIE! WELL DONE!" Pete screamed.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD! DID WE JUST LAND ON THE PODIUM?!?!"

"You drove brilliantly! Amazing! Thank you, Lizzie! We’re all so proud of you!" Felix radioed and he sounded a little off.

"Are you crying? Felix!" I chuckled and he cleared his throat.

"No, I don’t! But honestly! Freaking amazing, Lizzie! Congratulations on a brilliant first race and your first podium!" he said.

"Thank you guys! This is for all the hard work you guys put in the car! Here and back home at the factory. Where’s Valtteri?"

"P6!"

"WOOOHOOOO!!! From P15 to P6! What an amazing recovery! Awesome job!"

"Double points!"

It felt amazing, putting the car in that P3 spot. Next to Charles, who was already getting out of his car. I sat there for a moment to gather myself. P fucking 3. What?! Someone patted on my helmet and I looked up.

"Get your ass out there!" Charles shouted and I unbuckled my seatbelts, put the steering wheel out and climbed out of the car, straight into Charles arms who twirled me around "I’m so fucking proud of you, ma belle! Your first race and you’re already on the podium! Congrats!"

"Thank you Charlie, congrats on your win! Fucking hell a P1-P2! Ferrari is back!" I said as he sat me down and I opened my visor.

"Yeah, no go to your team! They want to celebrate you!" he pushed me towards the Audi crew and I jumped into them, everyone patting my helmet, shoulders and arms.

"Fantastic!"

"Well done, Lizzie!"

"Amazing race!"

"Brilliant race, Lizzie!"

I felt like floating when I reached Dad who pulled me into him.

"I’m so, so proud of you, my little owl! You did amazing! We’re all so damn proud!" he sniffled a little and I pulled away.

"Nooo! Pops stop crying!!!" I said and he shook his head.

"I’m not crying! Don’t look at me like that! It’s just-… You’re on the freaking podium! Charles won! I’m so happy and proud of you two!" he said and I waved Charles over. Dad immediately pulled him into a tight hug. "We’re all so proud of you! You two did amazing!"

"Oh Pops, stop or I’m crying!" Charles laughed and Dad did as well "Lizzie, you need to go to your weighing." he looked over at Jo Bauer, waiting for me.

"Oh shit, yeah, I almost forgot." I walked over hastily "Sorry! I was overwhelmed."

"No worries at all, Lizzie. Good race! Well done!” he smiled at me, noting my weight and handing me the receipt.

"Thank you!" I said and walked up to the little table and pulled my helmet off, after that I wiped my face with the towel and drank some water. Then I walked over to Carlos and nudged his shoulder.

"Good race! Congrats!" I said and he grinned.

"Yeah, you too Lizzie. Well done!" he said and someone engulfed me in a hug from behind, lifting me off the ground.

"YOU’RE THE FREAKING GOAT!" Pierre screamed and I laughed. He let me down again and I turned around and he hugged me again "You’re on the podium! You’re on the freaking podium! Congrats!"

"Thanks, Pierre!" I smiled at him and he nodded at Carlos.

"We’re going to party tonight!" Pierre hugged me again and then walked up to Charles to congratulate him. I took another swig from my bottle as I saw Seb approaching me.

"Lizzie! Amazing race!" he said in German and hugged me "I’m so damn proud of you!"

"Thanks Seb!" I smiled and he patted my shoulder again before he left to congratulate Charles as well. I drank some more as Julie waved at me, nodding her head into the direction where the camera crew was standing. Of course, the interview. I took a deep breath and walked towards a guy smiling at me and handing me a microphone.

"Lizzie, congrats on P3! What a race! Your overtake on Perez looked phenomenal! And then that fight with Lewis? Talk us through!" Martin Brundle said and I smiled at him.

"Thanks, Martin! It was an amazing feeling, having that much pace to overtake him like that! But yeah, Lewis was a tough battle! Whenever I thought I might have him, he always came back. But he’s not a 7 time world champion for nothing." I answered and Martin laughed.

"He’s a tough opponent, that’s for sure. But you managed to overtake him and now you’re standing here, P3, podium, in your first F1 race. How does it feel?" he asked.

"Can I be honest? I’m feeling a little like I’m dreaming or something? It doesn’t feel real. I mean… fucking hell! Podium? I can’t believe it! It feels so freaking amazing. It was a good first weekend for us, we scored some nice point with Valtteri’s amazing race from P15 to P6!" I said and laughed when Valtteri showed up behind Martin waving at me.

"I let you join your team mate, then. Enjoy your first podium! Amazing race, Lizzie. Well done!" he finished and I smiled at him.

"Thank you!" and with that I gave the microphone back and walked up to Valtteri, who pulled me in a hug.

"Brilliant job, Lizzie!" he said and I smiled.

"You too! What a race! P6! Amazing!" I replied and he just waved it off.

"It was okay. But you? Fantastic! You need to celebrate this!" he smiled at me and I nodded "And now off you go to get that trophy!"

"Yeah." I laughed and followed one of the F1 officials into the cool down room.

"That was an amazing overtake, Lizzie. He had no chance!" Charles gushed as he saw the replay of my overtake of Perez "And that fight with Lewis! Brilliant!"

"He was a tough nut!" I replied as the replay of the checkered flag was shown and how the Ferraris crossed the line first and then with a little gap me.

"Lizzie? You’re first!" the same F1 official from before called me on the podium and I walked out, the crowd cheering, and stepped on the podium. I could hear some booing here and there but I couldn’t care less at the moment. Podium. Fucking amazing.

It was all a blur. Monaco Anthem. Italy Anthem. Trophies. And then the Champagne. The loud pop of the cork ringing in my ear as I was doused in the sticky liquid by Charles. I sprayed him and Carlos, then we cheersed on each other and I took a swig of the bottle.

"Ewww… I thought in F1 it would taste at least a little better!" I laughed and Charles only shook his head.

"Nope, still disgusting." he chuckled a little and took a sip as well "Yeah, never gets better."

As the pictures were taken, Charles pulled me close to his side, cheeks hurting from smiling like crazy.

We were ushered to the post race press conference and Charles and I joked around as Tom Clarkson began. Most of the questions were positive, congratulating me, saying they were impressed. I saw Salva Diaz, hoping he wouldn’t have a chance of asking anything, but I was wrong, unfortunately.

"Question for Lizzie, your overtake on Checo looked almost a bit too easy? He didn’t put up much of a fight there…" he began.

"Lewis' overtake on him wasn’t different? He had problems with his engine as we found out… so what are you implying?" I interrupted him.

"I wasn’t implying anything… Who will be the lucky man you’re celebrating your race with tonight? Maybe even Checo?" he then countered and I saw Charles next to me clenching his jaw.

"With every single person that comes down to the club where we will be." I answered, voice indifferent.

"Alright. That’s it for today. Thank you to our 3 drivers, Lizzie, Charles and Carlos. Have a nice celebration and we’ll see you next week in Saudi Arabia. Good night!"

I jumped up and we left the stage, Julie waiting for me.

"Why do I have a feeling that this guy really doesn’t like you?" she asked and I shook my head.

"I don’t know, he’s just a sexist asshole, don’t worry…" I answered but Charles just scoffed.

"This guy needs to be gone. It’s the second time now that he asked something like that! That’s not okay, Lizzie!" he said.

"Let’s wait for Saudi Arabia. If he pulls something like that again…" I sighed.

"Of course he will!" Charles replied.

"We’ll see, okay? And now I don’t want to think about him anymore! I want to think about the amazing race we had! And how and where we celebrate!" I said and Charles chuckled a little.

"You’ll see, ma belle, you’ll see!"

As I finally made it back into the Audi garage a wild party was already going on, everyone clapping and cheering for me as I walked in.

"Alright, everyone, quiet please. I want to say a few words!" Felix said out loud. And everyone was looking at him "First of all: Big congratulations to Lizzie! You had an amazing first weekend and today’s race was just phenomenal! A podium in your first race! We’re all so proud of you! Then of course Valtteri! You coped brilliantly! From P15 to P6! Good job! I’d like to thank not just you two for today’s success, but also the whole team, everyone who worked so hard for this result today! I have a good feeling about this car, this whole team and our drivers of course! So, let’s celebrate tonight. Our team briefing can wait until tomorrow!"

"Let’s goooo!" Matt, one of my mechanics shouted and the whole team cheered with him.

I hugged people here and there, made small talk and laughed and smiled. Right as I thought I possibly couldn’t smile brighter, I saw a text from Charles, asking when I’m ready to leave. I said my goodbyes to the team, telling them that I want them all at the club later on, grabbed my bag and left with dad, whose smile didn’t falter once.

"You have no idea how proud I am of you, my little owl." he said as we walked side by side to the car park.

"Pops, you said it already like a million times! I know by now!" I laughed but he shook his head.

"Yeah and you will hear it probably another 2 million times! I’m proud of you! Really!" he said and pulled me to his side "Today you showed the world what we all already knew, you’re a true fighter and a terrific racer! And it seems that a lot of people world wide agree, you won the vote for driver of the day!"

"That means nothing…" I began.

"Yes, it does Lizzie!" he replied and I sighed.

"Maybe you’re right…" I said and he chuckled.

"I’m always right."

"Wow… Lizzie, you look… wow…" Charles looked at me in the mirror and I turned around "You look so amazing, ma belle. Beautiful."

"Thanks, Charlie. You look very handsome yourself!" I answered, smoothing down the dark green fabric of my dress.

"It’s nothing compared to you!" he answered and I shook my head, Charles looked dashing in his dark blue jeans and white button down.

"That’s not true! The girls will be all over you tonight!" I laughed and turned around and looked into the mirror again, checking my make up one last time, as Charles walked up next to me, turning me around, one hand on my waist, the other gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes lingered for a moment on my mouth, then they wandered up to my eyes.

"I don’t care about other girls, because tonight I’ll only celebrate you… and I plan to be all over you…" he whispered and I could feel his warm breath fanning over my face, I swallowed audibly and he grinned at me. I felt hot, my insides boiling. He was so close. Too close. But not close enough. I glanced down at his lips, his perfect lips. Did he just lean in? I opened my mouth, I had to say something, but then someone started banging on the door and we pushed away from each other. I walked into the en suite bathroom. Trying to cool myself down. Something like that couldn’t happen again.

"Get your ass out of there, Lizzie! Come on! They are all waiting for us!" Pierre yelled through the door and I took one last deep breath, then walked out.

"Jeez! I’m ready! Can’t a girl have a minute of privacy?" I asked and he just shook his head.

"Nope, not when she’s this hot and has a podium and a full club of guys waiting to celebrate with her. So let’s move it!" he laughed and pushed me out of the hotel room, I could grab my purse at the last moment and the next thing I know is how I downed my first shot of the night.

"To Charles and Carlos! First P1-P2 for Ferrari in a while! And to Lizzie! For scoring her first podium in her first race!" Pierre shouted and we all drank another shot.

"I must say, I’m more than impressed, Liz. That weekend of yours? You shut a lot of mouths!" Daniel said and I smiled at him "Damn good to be driving along a history maker!"

"Thanks Daniel! Really!" I said and hugged him.

"Hey! Unfair!" Charles next to me huffed and pulled me out of Daniel’s embrace before hugging me himself "You said only I have the privilege to have you this close!"

I had to contain my laughter at his adorable pout and instead kissed his cheek.

"Sorry Charlie bear, but he was nice to me… so I had to say thank you, right?" I laughed but Charles shook his head, a movement he regretted a moment later.

"Shouldn’t have done that… ugh… I’m feeling dizzy now…" he mumbled and I walked him back to our booth and sat him down, handing him a bottle of water "Thank you, ma belle… but what I was saying… you can shake his hand to say thank you…"

"Oh Charles come one… don’t be so possessive!" I laughed, although my cheeks blushed hard at the thought of Charles being this possessive over me.

"But I am this possessive! You’re mine." he rasped quietly and the air between us was loaded with tension.

"What?" I swallowed hard, I must misheard that.

"I said you’re my best friend. My Lizzie. Ma belle." Charles said, his voice sounded a little nervous "Right?"

"Yeah… yeah you’re right…" I answered and grabbed a bottle of water for myself "Maybe we should leave Charles. You’re a little drunk and I don’t want you to be totally hungover tomorrow!" I got up and he only nodded, doing the same.

"You’re right. We have team meetings to attend in a couple of hours…" he answered, although he sounded almost sober again "Let’s go."

The whole way back to our hotel and Charles room we were silent. I went to the bath room first, showered quickly and was preparing for bed. I walked out in an old shirt from Charles and a leggins. He sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone.

"I always wondered where that was…" he chuckled as he looked up, pointing to his shirt.

"It’s comfy, so I stole it…" I answered and grinned at him "You can go now, I’m done."

"Alrighty then." Charles stood up and closed the door behind him.

I laid down, thinking about what happened before the club. It wasn’t the first time that we were this close to each other, that I felt like my body was craving him, not just my body, but also my mind. I had to stop myself from doing something stupid. But on the other hand, it seemed that Charles had to do the same? Or was it just the champagne? We drank a little more while getting ready. But these kinds of moments happened a lot over the last months. And usually we were sober… My mind was reeling, trying to find an answer… but instead of being wiser, my mind drifted off, replaying the scene from the club earlier over and over… and with Charles' image in my mind, I fell asleep.

"All in all it was an amazing weekend for us! 23 points, no damages, one podium. Amazing. Let’s continue like this in Jeddah! See you all there!" Felix finished off our first ever post race team meeting and we were dismissed. I said goodbye to everyone and left, looking for Charles, as Dad and I would fly with him to Jeddah. We haven’t talked about what happened last night, this morning was hectic with packing our suitcases and hurrying back to the track for our respective team meetings. I walked out of our garage bumping straight into Andrea.

"Charles sent me to pick you up, the team meeting isn’t over yet." he said and I nodded.

"Why do they need this long? Was there anything they could’ve done better? I mean you have a P1-P2 plus the fastest lap?" I laughed but Andrea shook his head a little.

"Yeah, I don’t know either… he said we should go ahead and he will come straight to the airport." he said and I cocked an eyebrow.

"Umm… okay. Dad and JK are waiting with my stuff in our hospitality-" I began but stopped as I saw both of them walking up to us, Dad with my suitcase and backpack "Nevermind." I laughed and Andrea chuckled a little.

"I go and grab Charles and my stuff, I meet you at the car?" he said and I nodded as he walked off.

"So? How was the first post race team meeting?" Dad asked as we walked to the car park.

"I mean there wasn’t much to say was there?" I shrugged my shoulders and they laughed.

"Probably not, no." he answered "We’re waiting now for Charles? What’s taking so long at Ferrari?"

"It’s Ferrari…"

"Are you okay?" I asked Charles, while he was tapping away on his phone.

"Yeah, why?" he didn’t even look up from his phone, so I gently took it from his hands "Lizzie, I’m fine. Can I have my phone now?"

"No. Because you’re not honest… you can have it back as soon as you start talking!" I said, leaning back in my seat, looking out the window. Charles next to me sighed and then leaned back as well.

"Sylvia spoke to me about the way I celebrated after the race…" he whispered and I turned to look at him.

"The club? You didn’t do anything? Yeah we drank a little but we didn’t do something… we made it back to the hotel without leaving any chaos behind?" I asked and he shook his head, closing his eyes.

"No, straight after the race, when I got out of my car… she said I should’ve gone to Carlos first, to celebrate our P1-P2, then our team. And then lastly you…" he mumbled.

"Oh… okay… I’m sorry." I said and Charles whipped his head into my direction.

"Why would you apologise for her erratic behaviour? I swear she just looks for reasons to annoy me… she said apparently it wouldn’t look good to the Tifosi if I would congratulate and celebrate first with another driver and then with Carlos… I told her you’re not just another driver and she knows it… but yeah you know her." he said and I chuckled a little, yes, I knew how Sylvia could be.

"Was that why the meeting took that long?" I asked and he nodded.

"I explained to them that I was just happy for you and that I can’t control my emotions after winning a race and then seeing you being on the podium as well… she said I should try and I just said I will… which I totally won’t. I celebrate with who I want when I want!" he smiled at me.

"You’re giving her a heart attack one day…" I chuckled and he laid his head on my shoulder.

"Maybe I’ll do it in Jeddah, when we’re both back on the podium together…" he whispered and took my hand, intertwining our fingers "And now let’s try for a little power nap, I’m tired as hell…" he yawned and closed his eyes, snuggling into my side.

"You always turn into a little koala bear when you’re tired…" I giggled and I could see him smiling.

"That's why I’m your Charlie bear." he whispered and I smiled, looking out of the window. Saudi Arabia is ahead of us.

Race week 2 starts now.

————————————————————————

Little Note:

That's it, chapter 13 is out - the longest chapter so far 🙈 soooorry! But a LOT is happening and I wanted to be as detailed as possible for one race weekend because from now on it’s never this fully described ever again. And sorry that it took so long, but writing with a broken hand wasn’t so easy 🫠

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@silkenthusiasts @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @itsjustkhaos @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @glitterf1

All the images I’m using are from Google, Pinterest and Instagram (or self made 😅).

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