#at least it wasn't a car crash this time round

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – OLLIE INTRO

series masterlist

the middle of a season is not an ideal time for a heartbreak.

you would know.

but the season went on, and you had to push through it. you were never one to let anyone – especially not a boy – stop you from fighting toward your goals.

the round in barcelona was really rough, with a crash in qualifying and then no points in either race. austria wasn't a lot of help for the championship, either; you had to retire due to an engine issue in the sprint, and in the feature, you were shoved into a barrier by a trident driver and damaged the car too much to continue.

at least your home race was a better weekend. after having spent the week leading up to it at home with your family, you were recharged, relaxed, and focused on the task ahead. the weekend left you with a sprint race podium and valuable points in the bag – and more hope than the weeks before.

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somewhere in the midst of it all, ollie came into the picture.

it was on the way back to your hotel one day after media duties in the prema factory that ollie popped the question. he did it so calmly, like it was no big deal.

"do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

but when you thought about it, it wasn't just "in the midst of it all"; ollie hadn't just materialized out of thin air. he was always there.

back in the day, he was there to help you out with the prema simulator when you struggled. he was there to give you tips ahead of your race weekends. and now, here he was, helping you get through your baggage with paul – intentionally or not.

you met him for the first time in late 2021, when you visited your dad in maranello for the fda scouting finals. then, you got to know each other more properly in 2022 when he first joined prema. even at 16, ollie was a gentleman through and through. even at that time, he was gorgeous; with a smile that could light up the whole world, freckles appearing on his sun-kissed skin when he had been exposed to the southern european sun. although you were in a series below him in both 2022 and 2023, you would see him around occasionally, and you always loved his company.

had you been too busy focusing on paul that you hadn't truly noticed ollie and how great he was?

here he was now, the truly perfect gentleman, standing right before your eyes. and he was asking you out on a date? how could you ever pass down that opportunity?

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his offer seemed casual – and yet, you had a feeling it was anything but casual.

that's why you spent about an hour stressed in your hotel room, digging through your luggage to find something perfect to wear. something cute, but casual. gorgeous, yet simple. if ollie didn't think of this as more than two friends just getting some food, you didn't want to be overdressed – but you also dreaded the thought of being underdressed in case he also thought of this in the same way you did.

a date.

your first date since paul – well, your first date ever, really – and it was with this beautiful, heartthrob of a man. you and paul never really went on dates, you didn't go through that giggly first stage of a new blooming relationship; you were just thrown straight into the passion, like getting on a roller coaster that starts with a massive drop. this was completely new territory for you.

the second ollie complimented your outfit (well, he said, "you look beautiful", and you chose to assume it was because of your clothes), all of your stress flew out through the window. he looked great, too – but for some reason, that didn't make you too nervous. in fact, you were calm as a millpond all evening. you felt like you could relax with him, be natural around him; you didn't need to fake anything or pressure yourself to be your most extreme self. his coolness made you chill and unwind, too.

ollie was a fresh breath of air. he was a cool wind, a slight breeze in your hair. it was refreshing, a nice contrast to the hurricane paul had been.

sure, paul had also been sweet, warm summer days. but sometimes, a slow and steady climate is easier on the heart than a crazy, unpredictable one.

dating ollie was hard.

with him still living in maranello, and your time being split between milton keynes and the prema factory in vicenza, you didn't have a lot of chances to see each other. sure, you saw each other in hungary and spa, but both of you were way too focused on your own performances to do anything else.

besides, you hadn't even defined your relationship to yourselves yet, so acting like anything other than regular teammates around the track was a no-go zone.

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but when you did find time to be together, dating ollie was so easy.

it was a walk in the park, a piece of cake. he respected your opinions, he took care of your needs. he said just the right things, the things you needed to hear. he was never late, he always kept his promises – and most importantly, he seemed to really like you.

at least that's what you translated his actions into. the way he squeezed your hand when he held it; the way he held you in his arms protectively when you watched a horror movie; the way his lips brushed your forehead when parting from you after a date night. all of the things he did were ways to express his feelings for you.

he didn't just use his body to show you. he loved to tell you.

he said it right before he kissed you for the first time. it was like he asked for permission, waiting for your smile and "i really like you, too" before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to yours.

he said it when you parted in the airport, going off to your respective homes; followed by a short "i'll miss you a lot" and "i'll call you when i land, okay?", telling you just how much you mean to him.

and he said it in a handwritten note hidden in the huge bouquet of roses that stood on the table in your hotel room when you came back from the last day of racing in belgium, the text followed by a heart and a simple cartoon bear.

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maybe love isn't supposed to be hard. maybe it isn't supposed to be complex, confusing, difficult. maybe the love you had with paul wasn't what you needed; maybe the simple love you have with ollie is just right.

your summer break was long, though not empty. the days were filled to the brim with workouts, millions of hours spent in the sim, and quite a lot of boring strategy meetings.

when your racing abstinence became too big, you went to zandvoort to hang out in the paddock. ollie was still busy with racing, but you were free from responsibilities – and like this, it was much easier to watch him do his thing.

you'd always admired ollie's skills as a driver, but these last few weeks, you'd also gotten the chance to open your eyes to other sides of him. how focused he is on his performances, how good he is at switching between his friendly and professional moods, how ambitious and determined he is when it comes to his racing.

but also how sweet he was to you behind closed doors, and how good the kisses he pressed to your forehead felt when you wished him good luck for the races.

maybe you needed to work on those good luck-wishes, though.

while paul had taken most of your firsts, ollie got the ones he left out.

first coffee date.

first picnic date in the sun.

first time staying over at a boyfriend's family's house.

first night spent on the back of his dad's pickup truck, cuddled up in pillows and blankets while watching the stars.

first double date with one of your old friends from back home.

the first boy to give you that teenage type of love; the one where you feel butterflies in your stomach every time you make eye contact, the one where every brush of fingers sends a shiver down your spine.

the first one to make you feel like you're the center of the universe, like his world revolves around you.

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being with ollie is so sweet. it's exchanging subtle yet meaningful glances when the room is filled with people who can't know; it's soft laughter in the middle of the night when discussing the most bizarre subjects; it's a rush of affection flooding your heart every time you hear his voice.

he makes you feel just the way you should; giddy, nervous, excited. like a thirteen-year-old girl thinking about her crush. but still, it isn't enough.

in every way, he is a great boyfriend.

so why don't you feel as much as you did with paul?

balancing a relationship and a race weekend was more complicated than you'd feared.

when monza rolled around, you were trying your best to keep your eyes on the price; although the championship win was out of reach, you were technically still in the battle for second place. you knew you needed every ounce of strength and focus to be able to get it.

your focus wasn't exactly helped by having your handsome boyfriend lurk around in the paddock and prema truck whenever you tried to get ready for your races.

sneaking around without letting anyone know about your relationship was hard. obviously, you couldn't keep yourselves completely away – you were both only 18, after all – but you had to be discreet. carefully intertwining your fingers underneath tables, shared giggles around other people who had no understanding of why you were suddenly laughing, secret kisses when everyone else had left the truck.

you did end up taking that second place, with both you and ollie winning a feature each; a great weekend. and you even managed to sneak around without anyone noticing, which was yet another win for you.

except, someone did notice. that someone being the only person you really didn't want to know.

paul.

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abu dhabi meant yet another race weekend where ollie was supposed to focus, but he easily got distracted by his lady. at least this time, you weren't racing, so it was only half the trouble of monza. you were just there as support for your team of four years and both ollie & fred, but trying to steer clear from paul as much as you could.

unfortunately for paul, he didn't steer clear from you as much. having you there was actually more of a distraction to him than to ollie. every single time he saw you, he wanted to leave the paddock – and every time he saw you with ollie, he wanted to flee the country.

you pretended like you didn't notice him, acted like you didn't care. but in reality, you felt as bad at the mere thought of paul being near again. you'd been away from him for almost two months, not even accidentally bumping into him at the prema factory between monza and abu dhabi. and now that you saw him again, you wanted to cry, because...

he looked even better than he usually did. his laughter was just as intoxicating as ever. his entire aura pulled you closer.

but at the same time, seeing him brought back all of the bad memories and emotions too. the arguments, the rage, the exhaustion. and when that happened, you felt perfectly fine about being with ollie instead.

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ollie's final race of the 2023 season ended in the worst thinkable way. the car shut down, and he lost the rookie championship. completely awful and worthless – until he finally got to be with you again after the race.

and there with ollie in your arms, his face nuzzled into the side of your neck as you comforted him, you couldn't have cared less about paul watching you as he strolled past the prema paddock.

the paddock that had once been his home, with the girl who had once been his comfort. the arms that had once wrapped around him instead.

how did he screw up this badly?

#perfectly fine! #f2 #f1 #paul aron #ollie bearman #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #x oc #series #fluff #angst #fic #fanfic #blurb #imagine #formula two #formula 2 #oliver bearman

[inejschumacher]

Day 7 of Via’s Taycember

pairing: logan sargeant x reader

wc: 0.8k

cw: worry, depression

You know I adore you, I'm crazier for you than I was at 16, lost in a film scene. Waving homecoming queens, marching band playing, I'm lost in the lights

The bright lights seem to blind you as you struggle to find your way through the crowds on the paddock of Yas Marina. The sound of the Dutch National anthem, perhaps played by a band, not unlike your high school’s marching band, filled the background of the loud circuit, somehow both audible and not as the cheers and screams of the mechanics, the personnel, and the families as the crowds celebrate the podiums of Charles Leclerc and George Rusell and the victory of Max Verstappen.

But all of that held no importance in your heart as you searched for the only person who mattered here. Logan had finally made it through the season, improving significantly, even coming away with a point. His resilience only made you love him more, waving like the homecoming queens of the past.

American glory faded before me, now I'm feeling hopeless, ripped up my prom dress running through rose thorns, I saw the scoreboard and ran for my life

But despite all his improvements, he’d finished 16th, not his best in what was a very important race that could decide his career. Your heart had sunk as you watched him qualify last yet again, and you knew he’d have a difficult time making up those crucial places, especially with the lack of great straights to help his car.

You heard your dress rip as you rushed towards the Williams garage on some discarded tool or suspended wire, trying desperately to reach there. The scoreboard had flashed his final position for a single second before you ran down towards the garage to comfort him.

No cameras catch my pageant smile. I counted days, I counted miles to see you there, to see you there. It's been a long time coming, but…

You tried to emulate the same smile you had when it was announced that Logan had received his first-ever point in Formula 1 with the disqualification of Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton. But it seemed not a single camera looked your way, too focused on the celebrations and cars and champagne.

The Williams garage couldn’t come fast enough, so far away, just like Logan for so long during the season. It felt like a lifetime passed, endless miles separating the two fo you, forever and ever…

…It's you and me, that's my whole world. They whisper in the hallway, "She's a bad, bad girl". The whole school is rolling fake dice, you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes

You crashed into his awaiting arms, keeping you on your feet as you hugged him tight, not caring for the waterfalls of sweat flowing down him. You ignored the hushed whispers of the garage next to you wondering why you still stayed with him when there were more successful drivers still single.

It might be so, but you’d learned to take your time, let the snakes weed themselves out just like he did not so long ago, that despite the prizes won, it wasn't something that would last forever, stupid or not.

My team is losing, battered and bruising. I see the high fives between the bad guys. Leave with my head hung, you are the only one who seems to care

But when you looked at the crowd, it was obvious that this race seemed to block what progress was being made. Red Bull was full of cheers and champagne, the mechanics celebrating their hundred-and-thirteenth win with another round of high-fives. It was a bashful effort by Williams, trying to get at least one of their drivers into the points, but alas, AlphaTauri decided to put up a fight for the points.

There was no need to stay here amidst the victors any longer, so you kept your head down to avoid the cruel gazes of everyone else, and felt Logan press you closer to his side.

American stories burning before me. I'm feeling helpless, the damsels are depressed. Boys will be boys then, where are the wise men? Darling, I'm scared

It seemed despite the hard work and the fight to the end, the American glory of Logan burned away in a sea of loss and helplessness. How could you try to keep his spark alive when ending the season on a flickered-out low?

There was a shared depression amongst those women who saw their beloved drivers lose out on championship standings, on money for their teams, on podiums. It was a thing always done by the boys, but was there ever a man who knew what to do? If so, where was he? It was terrifying.

It's you and me, there's nothing like this, Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince. We're so sad, we paint the town blue

You held Logan’s hand, both to comfort yourself and him, as you walked out into the cameras and lights. If they called you the dying embers of the American Formula 1 Dynasty, then so be it. Miss Americana would always be by the side of her Heartbreak Prince, who'd break his own heart and mend it over and over again, more times than he’d ever break hers.

The sadness of defeat surrounded you in Williams blue, painting every corner, every drenched cloth, a deep, sorrowful blue, careful not to let the tears of fear and despair fall at the prospect of forever being shut out, never to be surrounded by such a blue again.

And I'll never let you (go) 'cause I know this is a (fight) that someday we're gonna (win)

And yet, as you squeeze his warm hand, you would stay, stay, stay by his side, a constant reminder that you were here, ready to keep his head above the deep blue waters of depression, helping him fight for his seat, for his right to race. A fight he would win, you would make sure of it, no matter where it took you; even if you had to run away, you’d do it holding his hand, fingers and fate intertwined.

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince, voted most likely to run away with you

#via’s taycember #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #williams #formula 1 #america #taylor swift #lover #miss americana and the heartbreak prince #Spotify #fanfic #fanfiction

[atimeofyourlife]

Whumptober day 9

rated: t | wc: 1743 | prompt: Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.” | cw: homelessness, implied neglectful parenting Steve becomes homeless after his parents sold the house. He tries to keep up the lie that everything's okay.

Steve knew he would get caught in the lie eventually. It wasn't something he'd be able to hide forever. That his parents had sold the house from underneath him, no offer for him to move with them, no offer of assistance to find somewhere new to live. Leaving him living out of his car until he was able to find somewhere new to live. Having to use the showers at the community pool, which he had access to because he'd never returned the keys after the last summer he'd worked there. Surviving off of to go meals or non-perishable food that he could eat without heating it up. Unless he was at work, then he could use the microwave for something hot. He just wanted to hide the lie long enough to be able to find a place to rent, preferably a place that didn't need a reference.

Robin would have picked it up immediately, but she'd left for college. They had a weekly phone call arranged on his Tuesday night late shift at Family Video. Originally it had been to his house, but he started claiming that his parents were home with no end date to cover up that he was no longer living there. He'd told everyone else the same lie, telling them they could reach him on the walkie if they ever needed him. Robin hadn't been happy, but she'd accepted it, knowing what his parents were like.

The kids grew a little suspicious when he started refusing to give them rides all the time, because he didn't want them to see how stuffed his car was with all his belongings, but they quickly got over it as they were old enough to drive and some of them had cars of their own. He made various excuses, from the price of gas to working over time to needing to help his parents with something. He wasn't sure how much they believed him, but none of them called him on it, and eventually they stopped asking.

It was harder lying to the adults, Mrs Henderson, the Sinclair's, Joyce, and Hopper. Steve felt like they could see right through every lie he told them. Especially as they stepped up and started offering more help to him. Hopper and Joyce inviting him round for dinner at least once a week, often more. Mrs Henderson offering the use of the guest room whenever she saw him, if he ever needed a place to stay. Mr and Mrs Sinclair extending an open invitation for him to show up whenever he wanted to, and always tried to force him into taking leftovers after every visit. He didn't think they knew he was homeless, as he was certain that they would make a bigger deal out of it, but it was obvious they knew something was wrong, most likely that he was having a hard time with his parents being home.

He moved his car regularly, never staying in the same spot for more than two nights in a row. Not wanting to get caught by the police, especially not Hopper. It was awkward, but again he made it work. He had to, if he wanted to get any sleep. On more than one occasion, if he was on a closing shift followed by an open, he would pull his car around to the back of Family Video and sleep there. And there'd been a night during a particularly bad storm where he'd done all the closing duties, and locked himself in for the night, crashing on the lumpy couch in the breakroom so he wouldn't have to try to sleep as the wind and rain battered his car.

But it was only a matter of time before it started to fall apart. He got caught sleeping in his car by the police twice in a week. First time by Callahan when he was parked at the edge of the quarry, then a few days later by Powell up near Lovers Lake. Both times he gave the same excuse, that he'd gotten into it with his parents and needed to get away from them for the night. He realized later that he should have known that information would quickly make it's way back to Hopper. That outside of government mandated ones, there weren't many secrets kept in Hawkins. After that, he tried to find different parking spots, resorting to the dark corner of a parking lot for a motel that was just outside of town. But he only got a couple of nights there before it all crashed down.

It started with Dustin calling him on the walkie just after he'd finished work one day. Declaring there to be a code red, and that Steve needed to meet everyone else at Joyce and Hopper's place immediately. Steve broke a few traffic laws on his way over, horrified that it might be starting again. For what it would mean for the town, for his loved ones.

When he got there, the place seemed strangely quiet and subdued for the Upside Down potentially starting again. He climbed out of the car, and made for the trunk, stopping when he noticed Hopper watching him from the porch.

"You don't need the bat, kid. Just come on in."

Steve felt uneasy as he followed Hopper inside, unsure what was actually going on.

Once inside, everyone was calm. Too calm. No one was panicking, no one was planning, no one was organizing weapons. They were all just sat around waiting, with the tv on low in the background.

"What. What's going on?" He asked hesitantly.

"Steve, honey, we need you to talk to us. Tell us what's happened." Joyce said softly, guiding Steve into the room.

"I. What?" Steve was confused. "I don't- what happened? Is it the Upside Down?"

"Why would it be the Upside Down?" Mike asked from where he was stood against the wall.

"It. Henderson said-"

"You called a code red?" Lucas hit Dustin in the arm. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"We needed to get Steve here without him asking questions." Dustin protested, hitting Lucas back.

"Okay, all of you, pack it in." Hopper warned the kids, before turning to Steve. "Don't worry, Harrington. It's not the Upside Down. We just needed to talk to you."

"Steve, is everything okay at home? Are you safe?" Joyce asked, and Steve froze for a second, terrified that they had found out.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Why wouldn't I be safe?" Steve lied, fighting to keep his expression neutral.

"Powell and Callahan have both told me that they've caught you sleeping in your car on different nights in the last week. That you'd got in a fight with your parents or something." Hopper said cautiously, as if he was trying not to sound accusatory.

"Well, yeah. But you know what they're like. Me and dad clash heads a lot and it's easier for me to leave so we can both cool down. It's not the first time it's happened. When I was younger I used to crash at Tommy's." Steve replied, not exactly lying this time. Because it had happened so many times, even leaving him sleeping in his car or outside before.

"You're a liar." Dustin burst out.

"What?" Steve asked, unsure where Dustin wasn't following the lie.

"You're a liar. You're lying to us. I tried calling you a few days ago and the line's been disconnected."

"My parents wanted to get a new number because they kept getting harassment calls. I guess I just forgot to let you guys know that. I'll get it to you soon." Steve still wanted to dig his way out of it, even though the look on everyone else's face said they didn't believe him.

"The kids told me that calls weren't going through, and they were worried something had happened. So I went round to do a welfare check. It wasn't your parents that opened the door. It was a new family, and when I asked about you, they said they'd brought the house and moved in two months ago. So what is going on?" Hopper said firmly, and Steve knew he was caught.

"Look it's no big deal. I'm managing." Steve got up and tried to leave, but Hopper grabbed his arm before he could.

"Harrington. Steve. You're not going anywhere until you tell us exactly what's been going on. How long you've not been at home, how you've been coping, where you've been staying?"

"We're worried about you, we just need to know that you're okay." Joyce added.

"I'm fine." Steve insisted, but knew he'd have to explain at least some of it. "My parents sold the house. I didn't want to leave, but I've not found a place to rent yet. But it's all fine, you don't need to be worried about me."

"So you're homeless? Have you been sleeping in your car the entire time?" Hopper asked, but Steve didn't answer.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Dustin demanded. "My mom has always said that you can use the guest room whenever you need it. You could have stayed with us."

"Because it's not a big thing. I've been coping just fine. No one needs the burden of me staying with them until I can find a place to rent." Steve snapped his mouth shut as he realized that he'd admitted that he saw himself as a burden.

"Honey, it's not a burden on anyone. We all care about you, and it's never a burden to make sure that you're safe." Joyce replied, her voice tinged with sadness at his answer.

"You're going to stay with us." Hopper said firmly, giving Steve a pointed look when he opened his mouth to protest. "No buts. It's safer for you, for everyone. You can have the guest room for as long as you need it. And if you want me to, I'll cosign for you to get an apartment once you've found somewhere."

"I. I couldn't accept it." Steve started, unsure of what to say about the offer.

"If you don't accept it, we'll tell Robin that you lied to everyone about your parents being home, and that you were actually homeless." Dustin threatened.

Steve knew he was stuck. Robin would just about kill him for not telling her that he'd been made homeless. "Fine. I'll take the guest room. But only until I find a place to rent."

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #“you're a liar.” #stranger things #fic #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #jim hopper #dustin henderson #steve harrington whump #atimeofyourwrites

[writers-vlogx]

yandere rafa kidnaps his ex from her wedding

(rafa is dramatic as fuck,you would have come if he had just asked)

OHHH YALL ARE SOME SMART MF HE WOULD ABSOLUTELY DO THAT

Rafael caro quintero kidnapping you on your wedding day

Okay I can see this going one of two ways, the first being yall would have been dating before, but you broke up because you just couldn't stand seeing him hurt

And while it hurt you leaving him, you never stopped loving him. Neither did he stop keeping tabs on you, and eventually finds out your going to get married

The other way that I can see this going is your family doesn't know about him and decided to marry you to someone of their choice, and you ask him to come crash the wedding but for the sake of my own sanity it's gonna be the first option

You tried okay? You tried so hard to move on even if your heart ached, when you started seeing someone else it didn't feel right

You felt repulsed by him, but you had to because you had promised to never see him again.

When you came into his house that day, and decided to break his heart. You had told him you were tired of this, that you were tired of him

But that wasn't true "ya no puedo hacer esto Rafael, estoy cansada de todo esto, estoy cansada de tus cosas" No please look at me I'm sorry I hurt you! "Siempre es el negocio y no me contestas por semanas" No why do you look so hurt let me hold you I promise to never do that again "Honestamente estoy viendo a alguien más, alguien que si sabe que es amar" NO I didn't mean it please my heart only belongs to you I could never leave you!! "Así que, no me busques porfavor" amd with that you left, you left him behind and sometimes you think you might have left your heart right in front of that door along with him

You tried so hard to love again, but you couldn't; your heart didn't beat for anyone but rafa

And it seems unreal but time kept moving and when you least expected it; you were getting married

Ever since that day you left Rafael in that house, something inside him snapped

He became cold, when he was drunk he cried a lot and even when you told him to forget about you. He never forgot, instead he actually became obsessed with knowing where you were, with who and why

Felix became worried over him and tried to introduce him to other women, tried to get him to date but he was never interested; he wanted you and no one else

When he heard you were getting married? That was his breaking point

He refused to see you be anyone else's so he rounded up his people and got ready because he was having you, he didn't care whether you hated him or not

The day of the wedding came, everyone kept congratulating you and asking you how you felt, in truth however you felt nothing

You had imagined this moment many times, how he would look, where it would be and how joyful you would feel seeing him but this was not rafa and now it was too late to back out, so with dread you walked up to the altar ready to seal your vows, to lose your freedom

But that's when you heard it, men dressed in all black with guns shooting at the roof of the church and a man in front of all of them dressed exactly the same, but that voice...

You recognized who that was especially by the way he looked at you, he was angry

"TODOS AL SUELO, HIJOS DE SU CHINGADA MADRE, NO VA HABER BODA HOY NI NUNCA" with that he grabbed you by the wrist and before you could say anything else

BANG

He had shot the man in the head in cold blood, while his men kept everyone in their place, he started dragging you out of the church into a car that looked too familiar not to remember

When he finally got in the car you pulled his mask off to see him, his hair was messy, and he was sweating, a frown on his face

He opened his mouth as if to protest shu5 down whatever you had to say when you just kiss him, kissed him because of the nights that you spent without him, the days missing him and regretting leaving him, but out of anything else, you felt pain in how you broke his heart and walked out the door

You wanted nothing more than to feel him and never pull away, to beg him for forgiveness because you missed him so much it physically hurt

He thought you would be mad, furious even but you were the complete opposite, you held his face so delicately and smiled at him

"Hay no sabes cuanto te eh extrañando rafael, perdóname por todo te juro que nunca quise hacerte daño perdóname por favor" you were grabbing at his hands, face buried in his chest, like you needed to be as physically close as possible or you would vanish

"Oye calmada amor, no te disculpes porfavor, pero enserió como se te ocurre dejarme y irte con otro hijo de la chingada eh?" He understood you needed him, but he could still feel the anger inside him, because that man touched you, because he had the audacity to try to take what was his

" y a ti como se te ocurre ir y destruir una boda? Si no querías que me casara me pudiste haber dicho" you crossed your arms, but a smile gave it all away

You werent mad at him, and he wasn't mad at you, but you both had missed each other for the longest "ay ven aquí, me importa poco si te cansas de mi, me perteneces a mi y no voy a volver a dejar que te alejes de mi" he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead "ahora si vamos de aquí, okay amor" he looked down at you laying on his lap "I wouldn't want it any other way, mi rafa" somehow after all of this, it seemed it made yall stronger and just like he said, he won't let you escape again.

Okay whoever send me that thank you so much, made ya boi very happy, you know sometimes I hope rafa would be bi so I may imagine he would date me and love me 🤦🏻��♂️

#tenoch huerta #rafa caro quintero #rafael caro quintero x you #rafael caro quintero x reader #narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico x reader #narcos mexico #narcos mexico x you #THIS MF WOULD BE DRAMATIC #DRAMA QUEEN #narcos x reader

[internetgremlin-writes]

Can I request no.12 with daniel ricciardo 🥰

12 - "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"

Warnings: mild Monaco angst

Glad to see I'm not the only one in my Danny Ric feels after this weekend. Hope this helps! (sorry I didn't get round to writing it instantly, my afternoon was filled with landlord drama :/)

Prompt night info and prompt list to request your own ficlet: here!

"Well, I'm okay,"

You dropped your head into your hands with a devastated groan, allowing yourself to slump back into your seat. Oh Danny no, not again, your heart broke for him and the dejection in his voice you just weren't used to. You couldn't believe it was happening again and that you were completely powerless to do anything about it.

Daniel had been your best friend for years, and whilst you adored and supported him you didn't know how many more times you could watch him slip down to the bottom of the F1 pack, getting shuttled between teams like he meant nothing. Not that you had anything against Lando and McLaren, but you couldn't believe once more that he was no more to them than a second driver, even the car came before him.

And now this, a crash in Monaco. His second home, his favourite track, the place he'd promised he'd get his redemption. Sitting virtually paralysed in your spot in hospitality watching him climb out of the orange car he'd been promised was his new family certainly didn't look like redemption to you.

He wasn't interested in anything that night. Usually, you'd hang out at his apartment all weekend for Monaco, but he told you he needed to stay in the garage to go over the incident. You'd seen this Danny before too, that no matter how shit of a situation he found himself in he was always blaming himself. He would stay up late, spend hours and hours pouring his heart and soul into working through problems, trying to find solutions he didn't need to. You were furious for him.

F. E. A

It was written in small black letters, but it was in the direct line of his helmet cam. Fuck 'em all. It was devastating, watching him become less and less of a priority of Lando and winning car, even when the younger driver was sick and not giving his best, but your chest warmed a little at Daniel's message. Maybe there was still that fight you knew and loved in him. Maybe your honey badger was in there after all.

But, like many things with Daniel, it wasn't meant to be. A low qualifying spot and a messy race with torrential rain and so many flags you lost the will to live saw him finish outside of the points once more. You were glad that he got home in one piece, at least, but you knew he wasn't. The second the last car pulled into a stop you all but ran to the McLaren garage.

He was there, sweaty and messy and as beautiful as post-race Daniel always was, but he was missing that huge smile and the light in his eyes. You didn't look once at the podium ceremony, your entire attention trained on Daniel who was staring at Sergio Perez with such deep heartbreak you didn't know what to do. He had to leave for press, reluctantly, so you pulled him into a quick hug and promised him you'd be over that evening.

And you did, after all the after-party arrangements had been made and Daniel's PR team had made their excuses you found yourself at the com of his flat, with a bag of far too much Chinese food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He buzzed you in and you found him on the couch, staring fixedly at the TV, where the race highlights were playing.

"Don't watch them," you murmured, and he finally raised his head to look at you. He looked like a shell of your Danny. In sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair a fluffy, curly mess after his recent shower, but his eyes were red and you were worried he'd been crying. He didn't say anything, simply returning his attention to the TV. You decided to give him a minute, and busied yourself in his kitchen plating up the food and pouring two large glasses of wine.

He was still staring at the screen when you came back, so you picked up the remote and turned it off. He sent you the smallest smile you'd ever seen and a half-hearted thanks. You ate in silence, and he didn't touch the wine.

"I'm sorry about today,"

He dropped his head, refusing to even look at you. You were contemplating saying something else, but you didn't know if you'd make the situation worse when he moved toward you. His head found the space in your neck and he crawled into your chest like an overgrown child. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around him, tight because any contact with him was everything to you.

"Hey-"

"Please," his voice was thick, his accent almost unrecognisable with it "I just need a minute," you nodded, your chin just resting on the top of his head as you held him, rubbing gentle circles across his back. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, or when exactly he decided to pull away and keep eating as if nothing happened, or when you found yourself watching him watch one of his terrible comedy movies. It was only when he didn't laugh at a single one of the cringey one-liners that you knew something was deeply wrong.

"Okay, Danny, what's going on? Because I've seen you laugh at this stupid fucking film from a hospital bed,"

The way he looked at you then was like nothing you'd ever experienced before. It was like he was staring straight into your soul, those big brown eyes of his so full of churning emotions that it made your chest constrict in rhythm. He sucked in a breath that was alarmingly shakey for someone so extraverted.

"I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified,"

You couldn't help the surprised bubble of laughter that escaped you.

"Sorry, what?"

"I- you're my best friend and I love you. I'm so scared of losing this, us, but I can't sit here anymore and pretend I don't want more," his voice was too shakey to be your Danny, but the words were his. It was only then you realised his hands were wrapped around your wrists.

"You could never lose me," you murmured, speaking slowly to gauge his reaction as the confession you'd been pushing down for years came surging through "Not when I've been yours all this time,"

You didn't need to say those three words back, because he pulled you into a kiss so desperate it said them for you.

#1.3k prompt night #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #formula one #F1 #iggyanswers

[juriyuna]

god CR-era ryuugasaki was such a mess internally; it's a wonder that it managed to stay as functional as it did. like, even disregarding the fact that ao and the other janomiya spies in the gang were planning on killing juri:

- juri has a bad temper and a tiny pea brain, so it was up to ranka to try to make sure that she didn't do anything too stupid and get herself (or anyone else on their team) killed

- unfortunately juri's bad temper and tiny pea brain sometimes led to casualties on her own team anyway, like that one 7th grader she accidentally scared into witching out

- half of her strategies came down to sheer unga bunga firepower, even with ranka's advice. this somehow got consistently good results

- after juri defeated the monzenbashi gang, its leader and at least a few of its members were assimilated into ryuugasaki (though most of the grunts were janomiya double agents). yes, this meant that juri had the bat and ranka working alongside some of the younger magical girls they used to beat up. i'm sure this felt great for everyone involved

- ao in particular spent the entirety of her time in ryuugasaki staring daggers at ranka for abusing her in the past. but she was waiting for the right moment to kill her so the two of them were like :) ← pretending everything is normal

- juri was fully aware of this, too. i think she was kinda trying to use ryuugasaki as the Get-Along Shirt to show ao that ranka had changed? which is nice in theory, but...

- the bat knew about both janomiya and the identity of torayamachi's "horse", but did not share either of these extremely critical pieces of information with juri because she wanted her dead. probably the only reason the bat didn't try to kill juri directly was because juri had already kicked her ass once and she didn't want to go for round 2. (she did try to get ao to hand over janomiya to help her murder and usurp juri, but no dice)

- i can only assume that juri kept the bat around because she was strong and didn't have any qualms about culling other magical girls, since juri clearly wasn't too fond of her either. she didn't even send anyone out to look for the bat after the bat got captured by hikaru and ao and went missing for like, a week. really good camaraderie here guys

- on that note it must've been salt in the wound for the bat to see ranka working as juri's second-in-command instead of hers now

- so ranka was stuck in a room with her current leader and her ex-leader who both hated each other with a passion and just kinda had to put up with it

10/10 i am honestly impressed that this clown car not only avoided crashing, but almost won the race

#ryuugasaki wins in some of the bad ends #and they probably would've won in the true end if yuna hadn't turned into an oni #enough of the girls liked juri (and each other) that they pushed through despite it all #magia record #ooba juri #chizu ranka #kasane ao #bat of monzenbashi #man though ranka really is ryuugasaki's strongest soldier #ao wants her dead. the bat wants juri dead. ranka is stuck between all three of them

[ysbrydthespoop]

Gorillaz Headcanons.

2D owns an extensive collection of band T-shirts and when Noodle was still small enough, she would "borrow" them and wear them as dresses. She still borrows them to this day. They just don't come down to her knees anymore.

Sometimes 2D still gets asked to show his ID, even though he's nearly 45.

Russel refused to let Murdoc or 2D teach Noodle how to drive. In fact after a certain incident that ended with a car on its back,he would only drive let 2D drive if he couldn't, if Noodle was in the car, and he wouldn't let Murdoc drive at all.

After Noodle joined the band, Murdoc forged every document she would need to live with them legally. This was a direct response to 2D asking him, "What we are going to do if social services come round?" He'd later find out that 2D quote. "Wasn't even thinking about any of that legal stuff. I was thinking about the state of this place. I mean, who'd let a kid live here? Especially with you?"

2D considers how they were able to keep Noodle in Kong Studios and even more so in their care to be one the greatest mysteries of the universe.

According to these fake documents, Murdoc is her adoptive father. Noodle has tried to burn these documents multiple times.

Creating these documents also promted the boys to give her a "real name" and this came from them realising they couldn't just put "Noodle" on these documents. They at least needed something they could put under "Last name". So, with five minutes, a couple of Google searches, and a session on Google Translate, a name was chosen. Etsuko Amainara. According to their research, Etsuko meant joy, joyful and child of delight, and no one stopped Russel when he wordlessly put it down on all the forms. Her last name was basically made up by 2D with the help of Google Translate is a probably badly translated version of sweetheart.

If you asked Noodle what she thought their choices, she'd say conflicted. She can't help but feel annoyed they didn't at least consult her before they chose a name that was going to be stuck to her on every document she carreid for the rest of her life. But it's not a bad name by any means. Though she does find her last name to be sweet and cringy at the same time

They hardly ever call her Estuko and she rarely uses it herself. Noodle is Noodle. No other other name suits her better. But they still use it sometimes, and they did so much more frequently when she was younger. 2D and Russel would say it with a stern tone. Their way of letting her know when they were serious. And Murdoc used it like a parent using their child's middle name. Growing up, she knew she was in trouble if she heard him yelling, ETSUKO!

One may assume (fairly because it's Murdoc) that he barely contributed to Noodle's upbringing. But in actuality, he was by far the strictest out of all her bandmates. At least in Noodle's opinion. He had a ton rules for her (and very few were rational) but the thing he was the thing he was the most controlling over was the internet. She wasn't allowed to use social media at all and chat rooms were absolutely forbidden. He wouldn't even let her use a computer unsupervised, even when she was fifteen going on sixteen. And he was hellbent on making sure Noodle didn't have a computer of her own. In fact, she once heard him saying to 2D and Russel that "if either of you get her a computer, I'm smashing it over your heads."He never gave an explanation as to why other than, "she's too young." But the truth was he was scared shitless of the internet and who could be lurking on there.

Rise of the Ogre is a tad inaccurate as well as outdeated. Russel has broken Murdoc's nose countless times before that book was written, druring, and after. Offences have included but are not limited to.

Letting Noodle get drunk.

Baking a batch of weed brownies and leaving them out for a then eleven-year-old Noodle to mistake for normal brownies and eat them.

Causing several car crashes that could have killed them all.

Hosting raves in Kong Studios and letting people trash the place.

Flirting with the bride at Russel's Uncle's wedding.

Hurting 2D (too many incidents to list)

Replacing Noodle with a robot.

Replacing him with a drum machine. But then he broke his nose an extra time for creating cyborg Noodle, for good measure.

Not telling him or 2D that Noodle was alive after the El maniana incident. This also caused 2D to snap, grab a random bit of driftwood, and beat the crap out of him with it.

Their reunion on Plastic Beach after spending years apart was UGLY. It started off wonderful. Tears and hugs and indescribable joy. Especially from 2D, when he finally knew his baby sister was alive. But then more revaluations came. Of the brusies all over 2D's body and that Murdoc had kept Noodle's survival a secret, and things went to absolute hell. For Murdoc. He ended up having to flee because everyone else wanted to kill him.

Their only regret about plastic beach being destroyed is that they didn't get to do it themselves.

After the band got separated and runited yet again and Noodle only agreed to rejoin the band on the condition they all go to therapy. Because, "Holy fuck! Every single one of you needs it."

She nearly had Russel placed on a phych ward when he started doing nothing but stare blankly at static. The only reason she didn't was because she started to see truth in the things he was seeing.

2D keeps quiet about his relationships and never tells the group if he's in one (for some reason. Not naming any names here) But if he goes quiet. Noodle imedietly notices and tries to find out why. If she finds he is seeing someone, she'll basically stalk them. Collecting information on them until she's satisfied 2D wont get hurt. She calls this "vibe checking".

Russel taught Noodle and 2D how to meditate. He learned it himself as a way to calm his mind from the things he was seeing.

After the Forever Cult incident. Noodle decided it would be best to put a tracker on 2D's phone so she'll always know where he is.

After, she also decided it would probably be best to put a tracker on all of her bandmates phones. None of them can be trusted unsupervised for very long. She hasn't told any of them about it. What they don't know can't hurt them.

A while ago, Murdoc managed to invent an elixir that keeps people from ageing and has been slipping into his bandmates' food and drink for years. He started doing this to 2D and Russel sometime around the Phase 2 era but decided to wait before starting it with Noodle, so she wouldn't be stuck living as a kid/teenager forever. And obviously, because even 2D would notice if she still looked thirteen ten years later. The whole reason for this, of course, was to keep his bandmates with him, and young and marketable forever. He hasn't gotten around to telling any of them just yet.

#gorillaz #murdoc gorillaz #noodle guitarist from gorillaz #gorillaz 2d #russel gorillaz

[goldilocks-pony]

92, 66, for the ask game.

Thank you for the ask! Apologies for it taking forever.

66- "stay over"

92- "I want you to be happy"

Warnings: abuse, car crash mention

Ships/characters: Steve Randle and Dallas Winston

Tagging: @sarcasticpenguini @cha0s-incarnated @sophie-i-guess13 @mx-misty-eyed @footnotesnake @thefingerinthemiddle @pasta-and-isopods @papa-no-cheese

---

It was silent except for the screams from the tv. Watching horror movies late at night wasn't Dallas' favourite thing. He'd never admit it but it brought back some of his worst memories. He simply sighed before pushing himself up and off the chair.

As he took the first strudel towards the door he heard a calming voice come from behind him. "Where are you going?" Steve questioned.

Dallas only turned his head to the right before explaining, "Probably gonna crash at Tim's."

"Stay over," Steve commanded more than reccomended.

This made Dallas turn around with a confused expression lingering on his face, "But I don't want to." His tone sounded snarly, the voice he used to intimidate people who bother him.

"Why do you want to leave?"

Dallas visibly got more uncomfortable and angry, "Just shut up! I hate the screaming. I can't stand it!"

Steve looked at him with worried eyes and with concerned he whispered, "Does it remind you of the car crash? Or New York?"

Dallas let down the wall of anger and just looked down and shoved his hands in his pocket. "Yeah the crash when its kids screaming. But hearing these older guys, it reminds me of something."

"Would you tell me about it?" Steve patted the seat beside him on the couch and Dallas obeyed.

"Well, there was them kids. The real rough ones. They didn't take kindly to some of the gangs I mingled with and me still coming 'round their territory." He put his face in his hands before continuing, "They'd stand in an alleyway. Waiting. Once I pass the biggest guy would drag me in. They beat me." He sniffled slightly, trying to hide any signs of emotions. "But one time, it was only one guy. He pulled me in the alley behind a dumpster. He grabbed a pipe and he beat me with it. Of course I screamed, but ain't nobody look for who's screaming in the rough parts of town."

Steve put his arm around Dallas. "I'm glad you're at least here now, I want you to be happy. Or at least not getting beat bloody."

Dallas leaned on Steve letting him hold him while Steve put on a different show.

#the outsiders #dallas winston #dally winston #ponyboy curtis #two bit mathews #johnny cade #darry curtis #s.e. hinton #outsiders #sodapop curtis #steve randle #darrel curtis #angst #fanfic #my wiritng #mintt writes

[tinkabelle24]

To Build a Home

Chapter 2: Liability

TW! Violence, blood and injury, medical intervention, death.

Masterlist / Chapter 1

---

(One month later...)

“Alright...The trash has been taken out, the floor’s been mopped, umm...all the glasses have been washed and put away. What else- oh, yeah! I’ve just finished counting the till - everything’s accounted for. I’ll just pop it in the safe...Done. Alrighty. Anythin' else you need me to do before I get going?”

Val stood at the threshold of her manager’s office, coated in sweat and exhausted from the long night; awaiting approval to finally clock off and head home.

Her manager turned away from her computer monitor to acknowledge the brunette. “Yeah, that should be it.” She offered a weary smile. “You’re good to go. Thanks, Valerie. Stay safe.”

Relieved, Val sighed inwardly. “Thank you. You too. See you tomorrow night.” As she turned to grab her belongings, the woman glimpsed the time on the wall-mounted clock beside the desk - it was after midnight. She turned back to her manager with a grin. “Actually, I’ll see you tonight.”

The blonde chuckled and rolled her eyes, waving her employee off. Donning her scarf, jacket and purse, Val clocked off and exited the underground bar, ensuring to lock the door behind her.

Val walked briskly down the dimly lit street, periodically checking her blind spots and maintaining a firm grip on her pocketknife concealed inside her purse.

She wasn't naïve; she knew she was toying with fire by being out alone after dark, but she didn't really have a choice in the matter. She didn't own a car nor a bike, and her funds were too stretched to afford a cab-ride home. She just had to make do for now, at least until she was more financially stable.

Several minutes into her walk and she hadn't come across a single soul. No traffic, no pedestrians, no obnoxiously loud music. Save for the distant wailing of sirens, the area was dead silent.

She quickly checked the time on her Fitbit, unwittingly tightening her grip on her pocketknife. It was just after 2:30am...on a Saturday. In Harlem.

This makes no sense.

The woman could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

I don't like this. Her pace quickened. I don't like this at all...

A loud metallic crash to her right froze Val in her tracks, and she immediately whipped out her blade. She shakily pointed the knife down the darkened alleyway, toward the noise's source. She could still hear some movement up ahead.

Stealing a glance down the street toward her apartment, she mentally calculated the time it would take her to floor it the rest of the way home.

Val's head snapped back at the barely audible sound of pained groans, followed by hissing. She lowered her weapon slightly as concern began to override her fear, and she took a tentative step forward.

Slowly, Val proceeded down the alleyway, entire body trembling with anticipation. Part of her was eager to aid this person, but the other part was screaming for her to run.

She approached several overturned trashcans, accompanied by droplets of fresh blood leading round the back of the building, outside her line of sight. The screaming grew louder. The woman faltered a moment, fighting the increasing urge to turn her heel and flee.

It's okay, Val.

You're fine.

You'll be fine.

It's gonna be fine...

She continued further.

Rounding the corner, she swiftly and roughly found herself relieved of her only means of defence and staring down the end of a peculiar looking pronged blade.

She froze, throat clenched and heart juddering violently against her chest.

You should've run.

You should've fucking run.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, Val quickly realised the figure uncomfortably slumped against the building, holding her at knifepoint, was not human.

In truth, she couldn't pinpoint what they looked like exactly. Their pebbled, ashen-green skin and turtle-like shell led her to assume they were some unknown species of reptile, but they were presenting a few humanoid features as well. Their brilliant amber eyes, narrowed into a hostile yet fearful glare, tracked her every move.

The woman's expression softened slightly. There was something familiar about those eyes but, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. As she frantically wracked her brain to find how she knew this...person, they began lowering their weapon, eventually letting it slide out of their grasp and onto the pavement beside them.

That's when she saw it.

“Holy shit...” Val squeaked in horror. The entire left side of their body – from the top of their head down to their abdomen – was drenched in blood.

Was it their blood or someone else's? She couldn't tell. From her position, she was struggling to find any injuries beneath all that mess. Her eyes darted to their face as they winced, after a failed attempt to shift into a more comfortable position against the wall.

Val immediately dropped her purse. “Here,” she spoke gently as she approached. “Lemme help you.”

The humanoid turtle snapped their head toward her, eyes wide. “Don’t-” they whipped a three-fingered hand out to stop her.

Then it hit her, like a tonne of bricks.

“You...!” She gasped, hardly able to believe her denseness up until this point.

How could ya not know who you were looking at?!

He wasn't some average Joe. No, he was a near 6-foot talking turtle-man, for crying out loud!

Val's memory of that night was a mess. She could remember being up on that roof and injuring her hand (she had the splint and a couple hundred dollars in medical bills to prove it), but the rest was a blur.

He must've just been another element her mind had repressed for the sake of her sanity.

The red-banded terrapin compressed his lips, silent, but Val caught a flicker of recognition in his eyes before it warped into a frown. “Get outta here,” he managed, with laboured breaths. “It ain’t safe...”

Watching his chest plates slowly rise and fall, she spotted a trickle of fresh blood as it fell from the penny-sized hole betwixt his shoulder and plastron.

He'd been shot.

Val’s panicked eyes darted to his hairless head. A four-inch gash marred the top half of it, narrowly avoiding his temple and left eye. His torn bandana lay amongst it, the fibres having merged with the partially coagulated blood.

“What happened??” She reached out instinctively to further inspect the wound. He snatched her wrist, though there was hardly any strength in it; she could have easily slipped out of his grasp if she wanted to.

“I said get outta here,” he growled, eyes piercing hers with a warning glare. “Go home. It ain’t safe.”

“Why? What happened-”

“For fu-” He winced, hand darting to his bloodied shoulder. As he slowly applied pressure to the wound, he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Here,” removing her scarf, Val wrapped it around her hand to form a tight loop. “Try this instead-”

“Will ya just-” he stiffened when she touched him, to which she immediately retracted her hand. They locked gazes for what felt like forever, neither one sure of the other.

“Please,” She insisted gently. “Lemme help you.”

He scowled, clearly flustered by her flagrant disregard for his wishes. He turned toward his injured shoulder for a moment, expression unreadable, before eventually returning his gaze to her with a defeated sigh.

“Your phone...”

Val promptly snatched her phone from her jacket pocket and unlocked it. She dialled the number he read out to her, then pressed ‘call’.

As he reached out to retrieve the offered device, she noticed he was becoming increasingly languid in his movements, as though he were actively fighting to stay awake.

She wondered how long he'd been out here, in this state, before she found him...

---

“Hello, this is Donnie, your friendly IT tech support. How may I assist you?”

“Hey, Don. I uh...I need a hand.”

“...Raph? Wha...Why are you calling me on this line? Where’s your shell-cell?”

Raph squeezed his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose, vision growing blurry. “I, uh...I-I misplaced it. You can track me usin’ this, yeah...?”

“What’s going on?”

He could hear commotion on the other line as Donnie presumably transferred to a wireless headset.

“Had a run-in with a few a’ those purple... motherfuckers...”

“Alright, stay on the line; I’m triangulating your location now... Raph, are you still there? Keep talking to me... Who’s that with you? ... Raph!”

---

“SHIT-”

Val caught the terrapin’s head just before he hit the ground, promptly sliding her purse beneath it to provide some cushioning.

“Hey, can you hear me??” She pet his blood-stained cheek. No response. She petted again, more firmly this time. “Hey!” Again, no response. He was out cold.

Oh, God. Oh, no...

As she checked his throat for a pulse, the brunette reached for her phone; she could still hear voices on the other line.

“Hello??” She called, struggling to keep her voice even. “You still there?” She heaved a relieved sigh when she finally located a pulse. It was faint, yes, but there it was.

“Hello, who’s this?” A masculine voice answered. “What’s going on?” Val could hear clamouring on the other line as they spoke, and at least two other voices.

“He fell unconscious,” she answered, putting the phone on speaker as she attempted shifting his body into a less awkward position. Each extremity required about all her strength to move. “He’s been shot - once, I-I think – in the shoulder. And he's got quite a large cut on his head. I don't know what from... There's a lot of blood.”

Retrieving her scarf, Val carefully wound it around the terrapin’s injured shoulder. As she did so, she glimpsed another similar sized hole close to his left shoulder blade. Inspecting it, she found the bullet had chipped part of his shell upon exiting his body. “I think I’ve found the exit wound!” She exclaimed, tying off the scarf at his clavicle.

“Okay. That's good. We know where you are; we'll be there in about two minutes. May I ask your name?”

“Valerie.”

“Valerie. Alright, keep talking to me, Valerie. Is he still breathing?”

“Yes, but his pulse is weak.”

“Hurry, Mikey!” One of the background voices bellowed.

“Okay, we’re coming,” The first voice replied. “Do you have anything you can use to make a tourniquet, to staunch the bleeding?”

“Already done. Is there anything I can do about his head?”

“Is it still bleeding?”

“No, it's stopped.”

“Just keep it clean and clear of debris; we’re almost there.”

“Okay.”

The roar of an engine pierced through the silence about a minute later, with two pairs of headlights illuminating the once darkened alleyway.

Val shielded her eyes as what appeared to be a heavily modified sanitation vehicle approached, screeching to a halt beside them.

Several doors swing open, and they were quickly descended upon by three shadowy figures. When her eyes finally adjusted, the woman was stunned to find three more humanoid turtles – armed to the teeth – standing before her.

The tallest, blue-banded one moved first, breezing past her as they hurried toward their unconscious friend. The other two were quick to follow. “Mikey, grab his legs,” Blue ordered, hooking his arms beneath Red’s shoulders.

“Watch his shoulder!” Purple hissed as Orange kneeled to grab Red’s ankles. Val recognised his voice; he was who she was speaking to over the phone. Donnie, was it?

As Blue and Orange hoisted him up, Blue turned to her with a decisive look marring his scarred features.

“Would you come with us, please, miss.”

It sounded more like a command than a request, and Val panicked a moment. She wondered, as Donnie offered a calloused, three-fingered hand for her to take, what kind of mess she'd just gotten herself entangled in.

Nevertheless, when her frightened gaze fell upon the unconscious figure being loaded into the truck's cabin, she felt compelled to comply.

Snatching up her purse, Val turned to accept Donnie’s hand. She could feel his breath against her neck as she followed the other two inside the truck, flinching when he slammed the door shut behind him.

“You can sit there if you like,” he gestured to the seat nearest to herself. “I’d buckle up, though.” She quickly did as she was told.

“Get us outta here, Mikey,” Blue ordered as Orange (or Mikey?) climbed into the driver’s seat. The truck lurched backward as it reversed out of the alleyway and onto the empty street.

Val gripped her seat and snapped her eyes shut, bracing herself for a rough ride. She stifled a yelp as she felt the truck lurch again, forward this time, as it proceeded weaving through the streets toward an unknown destination.

Amidst the chaos, Val finally mustered enough courage to open her eyes, finding Blue and Donnie on the floor of the cabin, hunched over their friend.

Donnie was busy tending the shoulder wound, while Blue did the same for the head wound. Her discarded scarf lay amongst the growing pile of equally soiled cloth, including Red’s bandana.

She could hear the two conversing hurriedly amongst themselves, passing tools and materials back and forth. They swapped places at one point, allowing Donnie and his remarkably steady hand to skilfully close the head wound with a large stapler.

The brunette flinched with each snap, but it emitted no response from the unconscious terrapin.

Meanwhile, Blue had inserted a cannula and was busy taping it down when he lifted his gaze to call Donnie’s attention. Val couldn't decipher everything being said, but she did hear blood being tossed around between them. Blood – transfusion?

She was so preoccupied attempting to listen in that she hadn't realised Blue was now staring across the cabin, at her.

“Did you see what happened?” He asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

Val visibly tensed under his scrutiny. “No,” she answered quietly, shaking her head. “I found him like that.” She braced herself for more questions but Blue simply turned away, returning his attention to his injured friend.

Turning toward the front of the truck, Val watched as they pulled inside a concealed entryway and eventually rolled to a halt.

After shutting off the engine, Mikey climbed inside the back of the truck to slide open the side door, allowing Blue and Donnie to carry Red out. He then turned to Val, offering her a small smile as he reached for her shoulder to lead her outside.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured, when she flinched under his touch. “We aren’t nearly as scary as we look.”

The orange-banded terrapin gave off a completely different vibe to the others. He had a kind, boyish face, and baby blue eyes. His shamrock green skin was near unblemished, save for a few nicks here and there. He had a youthful, comforting voice that reminded her of her brother.

He looked like someone she could trust, but so many strange things were happening all at once, she simply couldn't believe it.

“Where are we?” Val demanded, afraid to press forward. The temperature had markedly dropped and a pungent smell hung in the air. They hadn't travelled for long. Five minutes, tops. Why's it suddenly so cold? And what the hell's that smell??

As Mikey opened his mouth to answer, they became distracted by a sudden commotion outside.

---

Raph woke with a start, wincing at the immediate pressure against his throat. “Don’t you dare move,” he heard his younger brother, Donnie, hiss behind him.

“What the... how...?” Vision clearing, the injured terrapin found himself laid atop an uncomfortably cold metal table. He attempted shifting his weight but was quickly immobilised, held down by what he soon found to be his older brother, Leo, glaring back at him.

“We’ll talk later.” It was clear by the tautness of his jaw he was choosing his words very carefully.

“The bullet penetrated your left subclavian artery," Donnie informed him, preparing a syringe of clear liquid. "I need to seal it before I can close the wound. I’m giving you some morphine to help with the pain.”

As he injected the medication into Raph’s outer thigh, he continued. “This won't work straight away, obviously, so Leo’s gonna give you something else for now.”

Great...

Leo elevated his brother’s head slightly to allow him a swig of undiluted whiskey, before resting him back down onto a pillow.

“Bite down. Hard,” He instructed, pushing a tightly rolled hand towel between Raph’s teeth. The injured terrapin did as he was told, squeezed his eyes shut, and braced himself.

---

Val sat anxiously on the near spring-less sofa in the enormous living area, fingers clenched around the strap on her purse, heart pounding in her ears. The weight of her decision had finally hit her, and she mentally slapped herself for obliging these strangers.

Home was so close, she chided herself. You should have just run.

Now you're was in a strange place, with strange people, and no way to escape or defend yourself.

You’re an idiot. An absolute idiot.

It'd been about twenty minutes and she could still hear Red’s muffled screams; it was agonising to hear. What the hell were they doing to him in there? Did they not have local anaesthesia, or general?

She didn't get the chance to interject as Mikey ushered her out of the room, but Blue assured them he'd talk to her once they were done. Who knows how long that would be...

Did I ask for help from the right people, or did I unknowingly walk us both into a dangerous situation?

Unable to deal with the unknown any longer, Val snapped her eyes shut, covered her ears, and buried her face in her elbows. There, she fought to regain composure, but her thoughts where spiralling.

But he asked me to call them. Why would he do that if he didn't trust them? Why did I not just call a fucking ambulance?!

Breathe, Val. Breathe.

You’ll be no good to anyone if you can’t keep your head on straight. Breathe in and out... In and out... That’s it.

Finally lifting her head up, Val felt heat in her eyes and a wetness on her cheeks. She realised she'd been crying, and swiped the tears away with her jacket sleeves. She took one last deep breath in and out, before settling against the back of the sofa to wait.

Red’s screams had finally reduced to strained groans. Thank God, whatever they were doing must be coming to an end.

Val flinched as Blue suddenly appeared in the corner of her eye. She inched away, wary gaze trained on him as he approached. He didn’t even react as he leaned against the arm of the chair opposite her; arms folded, peering down at her.

Blue had a more mature, structured face, with olive-green skin and piercing amber eyes - similar to Red's. Around his waist sat a thick leather strap, and another that reached across his plastron and over his right shoulder. Attached to his shell(?) were twin swords, measuring about half the length of his body. Unlike Mikey's, his scales was peppered with scars of various shapes and sizes; the most distinct one extending across the top of his head and beneath his mask.

Blue silently scrutinised her a few moments, expression unreadable, before letting out a deep sigh and softening his posture. “Are you hurt?”

Val blinked. “W-what..?” She murmured.

He silently motioned to her chest area.

Confused, the woman looked down. “Oh,” she pulled at her blood-stained shirt and jacket. “I didn’t... this is his. Is he-”

“-He’ll be fine,” Blue answered curtly. Val compressed her lips, unsure whether to probe further. He must've noticed this as he elaborated. “He was jumped by some thugs.”

“The Purple-”

“-Dragons, yes.”

The Purple Dragons...

The hairs on the back of Val’s neck prickled. What were they doing here? Wasn’t Brooklyn their turf? Unless they extended their reach... Suddenly, the thought of forking out money for a 5-minute cab-ride home no longer sounded outrageous.

“Looks like I’ll be cabbin' it home from now on, heh...” she muttered, shifting nervously in her seat. Blue quirked a brow-ridge at that, but otherwise remained silent.

“It’s Valerie, isn’t it?” He finally asked.

“Hm? Oh, y-yeah, that’s right,” Val answered, just now remembering she'd already given them her name.

“I'm Leonardo,” he offered.

“Okay...” She was unsure what to make of this situation; his demeanour frequently shifted from cordial to borderline hostile, as though he were actively determining her status as a threat.

Leonardo opened his mouth to speak but promptly stopped himself. Another moment of silence. He stole a glance at the room his injured friend was in. “I, uh...” he returned his gaze to hers.

There was softness, and what looked to be a hint of pain in his eyes, as he continued. “I wanna thank you for what you did tonight, for my colleague. I doubt very much he'd have survived if you hadn’t intervened.”

At that, the woman's tense posture eased slightly, and she offered a small smile. “You’re welcome..."

Leonardo nodded, perhaps a little too long, as he stared forward. The pain had spread to his face. Val’s brows furrowed with concern, and she tilted her head in an attempt to regain eye contact with him.

As soon as he realised, he quickly cleared his throat and straightened up.

“I’m sure you can understand why I have to ask you to keep this – us – a secret.” He finally spoke; eyes narrowed, words sharp - resolute.

Back to business, then?

“I think so...” Val replied quietly. She was beginning to get whiplash from this emotional rollercoaster.

“My colleague did a reckless thing allowing himself to be seen by you – by everyone,” Leonardo sneered, almost to himself. Val stared at him, wondering whether he knew she and his ‘colleague’ had met before.

“We have enemies, which is why I need you to keep this to yourself. This isn’t just for our sake but yours as well. Anybody caught associating with us will become a target. Nobody can know...Please.”

“I promise.” Val could feel the dread creeping in on her again...

“Good,” Blue nodded, finally pushing himself away from the arm of the chair. He eyed her clothing once more. “We’ll take you to the bathroom, so you can wash up, then drop you home.”

“I can go home..?” A bewildered Val asked, as Blue passed to lead her to what she assumed would be the bathroom.

“Of course,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You aren’t a prisoner here.”

The woman suppressed a scoff as she pulled herself from the sofa to follow him. The bathroom wasn't too far from where they were sitting, about fifty- to one hundred feet. After following a long and narrow corridor, Leonardo paused beside a heavy swing door and motioned for her to enter.

Val acknowledged him as she pushed said door open, then promptly closed it behind her. She checked for a lock, but there was none. She realised why as she turned around; this was a communal bathroom.

Six cubicles, four sinks, no windows. It was relatively clean, save for a few scraps of paper towel on the floor and countertop. Two neutral-coloured bathmats hung over the first two cubicles. Upon inspection, Val found they'd been converted to showers, with several half-empty bottles of men’s shower gel perched atop the tiled ledge above where the toilets used to be. Three of four ceiling lights worked, while the other flickered eerily on and off.

Are we underground? It made the most sense. The sewer?

Sewers aren’t like this, are they? They don’t have these large, open spaces, let alone bathrooms. So, what else could it be? An old subway station?

Val spent several minutes attempting to clean the dried blood from her shirt. The jacket was a little easier - faux suede - but everything will need a thorough soaking when she returned home. 

At least I wasn’t wearing white this time, heh...

She washed her soiled hands thoroughly. After discarding all the used paper towel in the trash, the woman tugged her jacket around her body to cover the remaining stains, then made for the door.

Mikey, who was waiting at the entrance of the corridor, waved her over.

“Any luck?” He enquired, motioning to her clothing as she approached.

“What? Oh, this? It’ll be fine...” She found herself distracted by his demeanour. His restless hands and worried eyes betrayed the smile on his face. She could only imagine what more he'd seen and heard of his friend.

His friend...

“Can I see him..?”

Mikey’s mask finally slipped as he compressed his lips. He looked like he wanted to oblige, but something told her he wouldn't do so. “I wouldn’t,” he quietly answered. “He, uh... he needs his rest.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, and no.”

“What happened? What did they need to do?”

Mikey turned his gaze away from her, clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, I- you don’t have to answer...”

Val felt helpless. This man was there when she needed somebody, and she was too much of a fucking coward at the time to say ‘thank you’ to his face...

Just leave it alone.

This is not about you.

“I’ll be giving you that ride home, if that’s okay with you?” He wasn't asking permission, but he was still considering her feelings. She liked him the most, so far.

“Yeah, sure. Thank you..."

The drive was awkward, to say the least. Val sat in the front passenger seat this time, quietly directing Mikey where to go. Aside from the occasional grunt of acknowledgement, the terrapin kept his mouth shut and his eyes forward. She could hear him struggle to level his breathing, and his grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles had turned white.

She regretted bringing up his friend. She understood all too well the pain they'd likely be in right now; to have been so close to losing someone they care about.

She hoped Red recovered quickly. Though she barely knew him, he seemed like the strong and resilient type.

"Just here, please," Val pointed to the dimly lit front entrance of her run-down apartment complex, and Mikey rolled the truck to a stop in front of it. Confident everything was accounted for, the woman slung her purse over her shoulder, opened the door, and stepped out.

As she turned to close the door, she noticed Mikey staring at her, conflicted.

"He'll be okay," she reassured gently. "Thank you for driving me home-"

"Raphael."

Val stopped the door mid-close.

"His name is Raphael," Mikey repeated. "Thank you for saving my brother..."

Val gawked at him. She couldn't believe it. She'd resigned herself to knowing nothing about the man who saved her life, but now she could finally put a name to the face and know that he has a family.

"I wouldn't call him that, though," the terrapin added, chuckling wistfully. "He hates it with a passion... Just call him Raph."

Raph. Suits him... Wait, what? 

He was speaking as though it were possible to see him again... could it?

As the woman attempted gathering her thoughts, Mikey reached into the centre console to retrieve a business card, handing it to her. "If you wanna get a hold of us, give this woman a call. Her name's April... I'll let her know she might expect a call from... Valerie, is it? Yeah, I'll let her know."

Val turned the card in her hands. "Why are you doing this for me..?" It seemed to her that they were incredibly private people, wary of outsiders. Why was he helping her get back in? And who was this April person? "I mean, of course, I'm grateful... But won't you get into trouble for this?"

Mikey shrugged his shoulders. "You seem like one of the good ones," he explained. "Besides, Raph's gonna wanna seek you out eventually - to thank you. I figured I'd do some of the work for him."

Val's heart skipped a beat. "Thank you, Mikey." At the mild surprise she'd elicited, she smiled, quipping gently, "I'm a good listener."

He smiled back.

With that, she finally closed the door, and the pimped-out garbage truck pulled off down the empty street.

Too tired to even think about having a shower at this point, the woman simply stripped down to her underwear and collapsed into bed.

---

Pain finally pulled Raph from his dreamless slumber.

One by one his senses returned to him. He felt a softness beneath him – a mattress, finally. The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, among other electrical noises, indicated that he was still in Donnie's lab. The intense smell of blood and antiseptic assaulted his nostrils. He attempted opening his eyes, but the harsh light above him forced them closed again. He tried shifting his body, but everything hurt.

Everything hurt like a bitch.

"Raph, hey-" He heard Donnie's voice from beside him as the problem light was removed. "Can you hear me?"

The injured terrapin opened his eyes, without resistance this time, but his vision was blurred. "I can hear ya, Don," he answered hoarsely. "But I can't see shit."

"Okay, well, that should clear itself up pretty quickly," Donnie reassured, as he rummaged through his tools. "I'm gonna check your pupil dilation. You could have a concussion."

The purple-banded terrapin clicked on a small torch and proceeded shining it in his brother's left eye. "Can you see that?" He enquired, wiggling the light slightly.

"I can see it," Raph grumbled. "I just can't see it clearly."

Donnie continued asking questions as he moved on to the right eye. "Are you experiencing any nausea or dizziness?"

"Dizziness, yeah."

"Does your head hurt?"

"Everything hurts, Don."

"Do you know where you are?"

"The Lair."

"What's your full name?"

"Are ya serious?"

"Just answer the question."

"...Hamato Raphael."

"Thank you. Do you remember what happened last night, before you lost consciousness?"

He remembered. He remembered vividly. "Yes..."

He'd gone out for some air.

He could understand, to an extent, Leo's change in personality after...everything. They all changed, in a way. But his eldest brother had become insufferable to be around. They'd finally developed a healthy friendship, but then...he just has not been the same since.

He'd become an invasive, controlling, manipulative person. A shadow of his former self. And Raph couldn't deal with it.

So, he left for a little while.

He took to alcohol to drown his feelings. It was by no means a healthy coping strategy, but it helped in the moment, and that was good enough for him.

He was about a third of the way through a bottle of rum when he heard a commotion inside the consignment store below. A loud crashing sound, then two gunshots rang out. Extortion job gone wrong, perhaps?

He'd dropped the bottle to descend the fire escape, then crouched down beside a large trash bin. Sai at the ready.

A single man burst out of the side entrance, sprinting down the alleyway in his direction. He barely made it ten feet before the red-banded terrapin jumped him, slamming him against the brick wall.

The young man's black hood flew off on impact, revealing the signature Purple Dragon tattoo curled around his throat. Raph didn't have a chance to react further, however, as he suddenly felt another presence with them...

Pop. 

He heard it before he felt it, but when he felt it, he felt all of it. It was as though his arm had been ripped from his shoulder. One of his Sai clanged to the ground. He released the first man to retrieve his second Sai. 

Pop. 

The next thing he knew, he and the second man were on the ground, and the first man disappeared.

He didn't know how long he'd been out for, but when he attempted to open his eyes, he couldn't see a thing. His face felt hot and sticky. His ears rang. He reached up to examine himself. Blood was everywhere.

Groaning in pain, the terrapin hauled himself to his feet. He did his best to clean his eyes with the tail of his bandana. The second man was dead, Sai protruding from his throat. The first man was, indeed, nowhere to be found.

Fuck, I'd made a real mess of this...

Nursing his injured arm, Raph staggered toward the body. Purple Motherfucker. He plucked away the Sai, then proceeded collecting the other.

He stumbled around topside for a while, trying to figure out the best course of action. Stupidly, he didn't think to bring his shell-cell, so he had no way of communicating with his brothers. If he acted quickly, he could've had the strength to open a manhole, but he didn't believe he had it in him to make it home in time. If he collapsed in the sewers, he would've been a sitting duck for ravenous rats. And he didn't feel like being eaten alive, so, he stayed.

Then she came.

In a city with a population of nearly 19 million people, she was the one who stumbled upon his stupid ass. She stayed to help even when he told her to leave...

She saved my life.

"Where is she?"

Donnie opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off when Leo suddenly entered the room.

"Mikey drove her home."

He must've been eavesdropping on their conversation. His amber eyes pierced Raph's with a deep scowl, and Raph returned it in kind.

"So, let me get this straight..." Leo began as he stalked toward the bed. "You went out, alone, without any way of contacting us in case you got into trouble... You got drunk... You responded to a crime prematurely by not bothering to count how many perps were in the area, so they got the jump on you... You exposed us to a civilian... Did I miss anything?"

"Leo, this isn't the time-"

"No!" Leo snapped, jabbing a finger in Raph's direction. "You’re a sorry excuse for a ninja, if you can even call yourself one. I can't trust you not to get yourself or anyone else killed! You’re a liability! You've dishonoured me, and you've dishonoured Master Splinter-"

"Don't you dare!" Raph trembled with anger. Nothing hurt more than his heart right now. How dare he bring up their father in that way?!

"You need to leave, Leo." Donnie was between them now, attempting to force his eldest brother out the door. But he'd not finished.

"Listen to me, Raphael. If anything happens to us, or anyone else, because of your little stunt, it will be on you!"

"That's it. Get out, now!" After managing to push his brother all the way out of the door, Donnie slammed it in his face.

He and Raph were silent awhile, attempting to process what just transpired. Some words were said that could never be unsaid.

"Are you okay..?"

No response.

"I, uh... I'll go out and talk to him... He's probably just-"

"I don't care, Don," Raph interrupted, voice low and monotonous, barely acknowledging his brother. "Do what you want. I really don't care."

Donnie nodded sadly before slipping out, leaving Raph alone with his thoughts. As the door clicked closed, the injured terrapin's eyes grew hot with tears. He swiped them away.

No, don't you dare cry! 

Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to you. Not now, not fucking ever!

...But he's right, though.

This whole thing could've been avoided if I'd just stayed home, or at the very least taken the shell-cell. How could I manage to screw up so fucking... FUCK!!!

Maybe I am a liability.

---

Masterlist / Chapter 3

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2007 #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #raph x oc #tmnt raph x oc #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #tmnt mikey #tmnt oc #tmnt michelangelo #to build a home #oc val scott #youtube #Youtube

[tomurderornottomurder]

the eternal idol; eddie munson

pair. eddie munson x gn!reader

summ. (request) goody two shoes reader gets caught shoplifting and eddie has to pick them up but turns out reader was trying to lift the newest black sabbath record for eddie's birthday that they didn't have money for

gen. angst, fluff

tw. police, getting arrested, shoplifting, eddie is v affectionate

wc. 1.8k+

note. not been feeling great so sorry about being SO slow on requests. i'm not sure how cohesive this fic is, if it is that bad please lmk

Your hands shake as you enter the store. You look over the expansive collection of vinyl records and the faces of rockstars on posters, and the few guitars that hang off the wall. You flick your eyes over to the older man behind the counter who doesn't even lift his head at your presence. You rub your hands together, trying to calm yourself down. You can't already look this suspicious! Calm down! Despite your commands, you remain helplessly anxious.

You try to calm yourself and act as casually as possible while feeling on fire. You walk the expanse of the store, run your fingers over records, and admire the handsome men and women decorating the walls. You round the metal section a few times, eyeing the newest Black Sabbath record. It's perfect! It was what you came in here for anyway, but it looked different up close; it looked like a statuette Indiana Jones would steal. And it felt like you were Indiana Jones. (Unfortunately for you, you're not as slick). 

Shoplifting wasn't as easy as one of your friends had made it out to be and besides, this was your first time doing so. And stealing a whole record rather than a cassette wasn't your best choice. It happened all so fast. You slipped the record into your jacket, stepped out of the shop, and when you got that brief relief, you were grabbed by the old man at the counter. Shit! Shit! Shit! This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Fuck! The old man tugs you inside, nearly gripping his fingers into your flesh as he guides you into some dank backroom. He presses on your shoulder making you fall against a worn leather couch. 

"Where's the record, kid?" 

Defeatedly, you reach into your jacket and hand it over. "I'm sorry," You mumble hanging your head. 

The old man takes the record and hums, barely looking in your direction. He takes the phone off the wall and you assume he's calling the police.

Well, this fucking sucks. All you can feel are rapid waves of heat running up your spine and tears pricking at your eyes. You barely ever get into trouble. Just being yelled at could make you sob for hours. Your brain is more or less blank, adrenaline pumping through your blood as your heart keeps beating out of your chest. Really all you can do is sit there silently waiting to get picked up by the police. At least the old man isn't freaking out on you, you guess.

---

It goes further downhill from there. An officer comes and puts you in cuffs while tears streak your cheeks; the cuffs are cold, tight, and painful. Your heart still beats out of your chest, beating so loudly you can just barely make out the officer's voice. It's like your body's on high alert but you can't move and your muscles are far stiffer than they should be and your head is pounding with the pumping of blood through it. You're disorientated throughout the whole ordeal, just managing to walk straight as the officer leads you to his cruiser.

You're shoved inside a bit harshly and your elbows crash into the hard plastic of the backseat. The door is slammed shut and the force from it reverberates throughout your body. Your cuffs dig deep into your skin as the car starts up and you're jostled against the hard and cold plastic seat. You groan and close your eyes as tears well up again, this time with a renewed vengeance. The tears sting as they prick at your eyes and you can't help but feel a little stupid over crying about this but then again, you don't know what to do and you've never been in trouble with the law; this is terrifying. 

---

Shakily, you take hold of the payphone so conveniently placed along the wall of your holding cell. You hold the phone up to your ear as you dial Eddie's number. You inhale an unsteady breath as you listen to the ringing of the line. You tap your foot, trying not to be too noisy considering the other much tougher-looking occupants in the shared cell. You're practically huddled in the corner, cradling the phone as you try to shrink yourself away and out of existence. It didn't help that you had clearly been crying and somehow the way that these people just looked tough made you feel even worse about it. 

You light up a little as you hear Eddie's voice on the line. Finally. You almost let out a sigh of relief before your thoughts muddle and you start worrying about what Eddie will think about all of this. "Eddie the banished and badass here, who is it?" You stifle a chuckle at what some could call a greeting.

"Hey.., Eddie.." You practically whisper, your voice hoarse and your lips nearly touching the phone. "I need you to pick me up," You add with tears yet again pooling in your eyes.

"Woah, hey, sweetheart, is that you? Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'll explain later just please, Eddie. I'm at the station, they said I needed-"

"Woah, what!? You got arrested?!"

You cringe at his words, bunching up your body. You knew it, he was mad. He hates you. "Eddie, please-"

"I'll be down there in a minute, my little spitfire. I have got to know what you got into." And just like that, he hangs up.

You're torn inside from knowing Eddie would never be mad at you to the possibility that now may be the one exception. You guess you can't know for sure until Eddie arrives. And he does, like your knight in shining armor. You watch him with glassy eyes as he swings his hips almost making a show of sauntering up to the police chief, coming here on his own accord rather than being dragged by an officer. He speaks with the chief before speaking to another officer then walking over to you, a playful smile on his lips. You're a little bewildered at his behavior, it fits him sure, but you are convinced that he would be mad at you. 

"Hey," He greets curtly, "you'll be out in a minute." He sends you a soft smile. "But we definitely gotta talk after this."

You knew it! A part of you feels validated that he's mad because you're right, but your heart drops at the notion of him being upset because of you. The officer pulls Eddie aside and you're left to stew in your thoughts again. God, this was so stupid. You watch on nervously as Eddie is led over to a desk and the officer points at some piece of paper. He leans over the desk with one hand resting on top of it and his other scribbling away his signature. Once he's done the officer takes the paper and walks off while Eddie approaches you again. You try your best this time to not look like a nervous wreck but you can't really determine whether it works or not.

"Your first time in here, isn't it?" Eddie asks amused. You nod and Eddie chuckles, looking down for a quick moment. "You get used to it... or you won't, y'know being you," He pushes your shoulder lightly. 

Before you can even think about that exchange, a jingle of keys is heard, drawing both your and Eddie's attention.

"Finally!" Eddie exclaims.

---

The car ride is dead silent minus the rumbling of the engine and the softly playing music. You play with your fingers as you sit in an anxious pit of despair, going over about a thousand times how and why Eddie will be pissed off. You've got about zero evidence to back up any and all of your thoughts and yet your brain is on rapid fire with it all.

Meanwhile, Eddie drives letting his mind wander to what you could have possibly done even if you were allowed out right away. He wonders if maybe you had gotten into a fight over someone being an asshole but there wasn't a mark on you to indicate such an event. He tries to rack his brain for a possible answer but doesn't end up with anything before he's pulling into what you could call his driveway. 

You get out of the van, slowly approaching Eddie's door, dreading the moment you walk through and you have to talk to him about it. It felt like such a stupid thing but your brain really made a whole ordeal about it and you sure are feeling it. 

---

Ten more minutes of silence as you and Eddie both sit on his bed. "Okay," Eddie breaks through the tension, his voice like a knife against the butter that is the tension in his room. "What'd you do? It can't be that bad." He looks at you with those big, brown, cow-like eyes.

"I- Well... I was trying to take a record,"

Eddie laughs. "Really?" He looks at you incredulously. "Since when did you become an outlaw?" 

"Eddie."

"Sorry," He puts his hands up. "It's just- I've never even seen you talk bad about someone. How did you upgrade to stealing?" 

You wince at that.

"Sorry, shoplifting. There was no heist, right my little mastermind?"

You roll your eyes before sighing. "No. I just wanted to get you a present for your birthday."

"Wait!" Eddie puts his hand up, directly in front of your face. He turns completely so his whole body is facing you. "You," He points at you, "were stealing for me?" He looks intensely at you.

You nod, "Yeah."

And just like that Eddie explodes. He bounces on his bed as a huge grin takes over his features. "That's the sweetest thing someone's ever done for me!"

"Eddie that is so-"

"Ssh," He presses a finger to your lips. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek. 

All your thoughts dissolve away in that instant. It was just a quick little peck, meaningless, and in the heat of the moment but it lights a fire that burns the negative thoughts and leaves in its place your adoration for Eddie. Like a monument burned into the landscape of your brain. It takes you a moment to process him poking at you, curious to know more.

"What record was it? And a record? Why didn't you snatch a cassette?" 

You wish you knew the answer to that last question too but the ordeal was over now and it didn't matter anymore. "The Eternal Idol, Metallic's newest." 

Eddie then takes hold of your arms and practically shakes you along with his whole bed and the trailer itself. "Their new album!" He screeches. "Oh my god!"

"But I didn't get it," 

"It's the thought that counts, sweetheart." He pulls you in by the back of the head and presses yet another kiss to your cheek. 

"Eddie, if you don't stop I'm going to think you're in love with me or something."

"Who says I'm not?" He smiles widely at you, taking his seat across from you again. "Next time you steal though, babe, maybe let me teach you a thing or two." 

#murder writes #murder's requests #eddie munson x gn reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson encourages you to steal #eddie munson x reader

[cosmicallylyss]

Waterparks Songs That Make Me Think Of Matt Engarde because I Said So.

Hawaii (Stay Awake) — "A hurricane lives in my bedroom, it keeps me up and awake for round two. And I just wanna sleep but that's all too much."

Stupid For You — "I'll be your new favorite tune, I'll be your black cloud by June, but only when you miss the rain like I miss you. Just double-dare me and I promise now that I'll stay. It's not like you're married but I still got carried away."

Royal — "I fall in love with everything that wants nothing to do with me. I know that there's no dealing with the way I'm feeling, I'm so out of touch with everyone and everything's a blur to me."

Dizzy — "I wanna pour my feelings down the drain, but I just take another sip until my eyes drip, 'Stay the same.'"

It Follows — "Kiss me like nobody would when I was fifteen, I'm tired of the waiting and the wondering. If I could find my something to burn out these feelings, I'd cut them out completely and I'd stop this reeling."

Plum Island — "It's harder than it should be for me to be straightforward. Like even when I did, I couldn't tell her I adored her, which I know is messed up, and I know I messed up, but at least I 'fessed up, now of course it's too late—"

Blonde — "I never wanted to be thinking this loud, I never asked about the when, why, or how. I wanted privacy, routine, and everything between while they're just finding me out. I never wanted to be thinking this loud. At least it's all about you."

Not Warriors — "There's nothing in my system so I'm feeling what I feel for you. There's nothing left to miss except the shots I take and phone calls with you, and I just need you to feel it too."

Sleep Alone — "I distract myself awake but in my dreams you're playing a song. I'll tell my friends we made amends tying up loose ends in the sand. But if you want it, you can have it, you can have me in full."

American History — "We are expected, but only in the best way, to live a small time—a year: expired. We are supposed to fall into exposure, we have the biggest sparkling eyes."

Turbulent — "So fuck yourself and fuck your feelings. I believe, but not in you and me, so I'd unfuck you if I could, I'd unlove you like I should have, months before I did in the months before I split."

War Crimes — "Behind my forehead's an assortment of things I'd like to forget. I wear a smile that's about a mile wide, I'd like to sport it. It's my fault I miss my friends, I'm lonely every day."

Worst — "It was me or whiskey, now you're pissed I wasn't bluffing. Fuck it, took a couple shots, don't you dare fucking miss me. Miss Unfaithful hit the backboard breaking bed springs, so delete us from your phone and never look back, fuck you and your friends and LA."

Snow Globe — "In the daytime I get to debate myself and quiet all the evil things I say, like 'Everybody hates you, people miss the old you, they hate everything that they all changed you into.'"

Magnetic — "But you said it, I'm magnetic to the things I hate the most. I spent today insubordinate, yeah I'm fucking up, I'm recording it. I'm projecting big through a tiny screen where I'm stacking up my reality."

Real Super Dark — "I'm out of the cage and I'm on the stage, I'm dying to give you a show. I'm alienated, way overrated, here are a few of the notes: my fans are the best, they'd love me more dead."

Self-Sabotage — "What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm on my way to you, but I self-sabatoge, so I might drive my car and crash into your garage. To get away from you, I'll self-sabatoge."

Ritual — "My inner child needs a bulletproof vest and a phone that can't text and 20 years rest. Build a bomb shelter, bite a belt for the stress, never know what's next. Sleeping with my clothes on in case—goes wrong."

Fuck About It — "We can fuck about it later if you want, because we never fix the problems that we got, baby, you don't seem to like it when we talk. I guess I'll see you later."

A Night Out On Earth — "I wear my red flags like a cape, it gets so fuckin' hot under all this shade. Everywhere I walk's a toxic parade, the glove don't fit but I wear it anyway."

#ace attorney #matt engarde #waterparks #waterparks band #thinking about matt engarde yet again

[ladylilithprime]

Reach And Flexibility

Series: Fluff Is My Jamstiel

Fandom: Supernatural: 

Pairing: Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General to Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Witch Sam Winchester, Hunter Novak Brothers, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Brief Allusions to Canon-Typical Violence

Summary:The hunt wrapped up faster than expected, meaning John Castiel and James Constantine Novak can make a detour back to Palo Alto, California, that much sooner. When they actually use the spare key that Sam Wesson gave them, however, they discover that their witch friend is a bit more bendy than either of them realized.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 6: Stretch

Read on AO3

HOW OFTEN DO we get to have a hunt go this perfectly?" James Constantine Novak asked as he shoveled a load of dirt back into the open grave of the late, lamented, and now finally put thoroughly to rest Agnes Masterson. A moment later, he yelped as his brother smacked him upwards across the back of his head.

"Don't jinx it," John Castiel Novak scolded as he gripped his own shovel and heaved another lump of dirt into the grave. "What have we learned to never, ever do until we are actually driving away from a completed hunt?"

"Come on, Cas, that was one--"

"Four."

"What?! No way--"

"Terra Haute, Aberdeen, Accokeek--"

"Dude, that wasn't even our fault!"

"We got caught in it, so I'm counting it."

The bickering lasted them through the filling of the grave and the repositioning of the grass over the top to at least somewhat disguise the disturbance, and they only wound down when, after a quick round of rock-paper-scissors to decide who had to drive, they fell into their aged but faithful Lincoln Continental and the engine was cranking to life. "How far do we have to get before we're good to find someplace to sleep?"

"Well," Jimmy said as he tugged a map out of the glove compartment and unfolded it to track their position. "We should probably go at least forty miles, but...."

"But?" Cas prompted just a touch impatiently. He was tired, damn it!

"Well, if you think we can keep going west for about three hundred and sixty-eight miles or so, we're not that far from Palo Alto," Jimmy finished.

Palo Alto. Sam! Cas felt the tiredness slipping away from his shoulders to be replaced by anticipation. It had been almost a month since they had seen the younger man, a month full of being dragged from one hunt to the next around half the country, and Cas had missed him. And if Jimmy was bringing up a four hundred and eight mile drive as an alternative to just going forty miles out of town to find a motel to crash in, Cas would bet his favorite silver blade that his brother had missed Sam too.

"We'll be getting there practically at dawn," he pointed out reluctantly as the mental calculations of distance and miles per hour that their poor old car could handle lined up.

"So we get there in time to have breakfast with Sam and Bones and then see them off to work before we fall into bed for a nap, maybe bring them lunch when we wake up," Jimmy said with a shrug. "And if Old Abe can push it enough that we get there before he's even awake, well, he did give us that key..."

"...and scolded us the last time we showed up when he was still at work and didn't make use of it," Cas finished, letting his forehead fall forward onto the steering wheel. "Of course."

It was all too easy, recalling the incident and Sam's exasperation upon finding the brothers sitting on his doorstep still dirty and ragged from the ghoul hunt they had just concluded. He felt an echo of that bloom of warmth that had swelled in his chest when he had realized that when Sam had told them to make themselves at home, he had really meant it. That, more than anything, made the decision easy.

"So... home, then?" he said, tasting the word on his tongue and finding it less of an awkward fit than he'd feared. He lifted his head from the steering wheel and looked over to find his brother beaming at him happily.

"Yeah," Jimmy nodded, tension already visibly slipping away from his frame. "Let's go home."

EVEN NEEDING TO stop for gas twice to ensure they weren't coasting into Palo Alto on fumes and to switch drivers after Jimmy got in a brief nap, they managed to coax the Lincoln into making the drive in only five and a half hours. Jimmy grabbed their duffles while Cas detoured to say hello to the grape vines curling on the trellis above the fence around the garden. Cas took the duffles from him when they got to the door so Jimmy could rifle through their keys for the one Sam had given them and, with a deep breath to steady his nerves, unlocked the front door to let themselves in.

The Lincoln's engine rumbled to life and they were on their way.

"Sam? Bones?"

"In the solarium!" a vaguely familiar voice, higher in pitch than Sam's, called back to them. Jimmy and Cas exchanged looks but followed the sound of the voice as it continued, "Would you both please tell Sam that it would make much more sense for me to be doing this in my usual form?"

"Don't even," came the more familiar sound of Sam's voice in an exasperated groan. "Just because the pose name has the word 'dog' in it does not mean you need to be a dog to do it!"

"Yoga poses aren't really chosen with a dog's range of movement in mind anyway," Cas called back to them as Jimmy stifled a snicker.

All thoughts of amusement fell away as the brothers finally reached the beaded curtain and pushed through it to enter the part of the house cheerfully called the "solarium". It was an octagonal room made almost entirely of glass, one that had not been a part of the house's original design but had been added on to a back door at some point before the Novaks had made Sam's acquaintance. The beaded curtain usually hung in front of a sliding door in the one wall that connected to the rest of the house, and was kept closed most of the time. On the far side of the room was another door that led into Sam's greenhouse, where he kept the plants that needed special attention and couldn't quite manage a peaceful coexistence with the rest of his garden.

The solarium itself was hardly devoid of plants, unobtrusive window boxes of lavender or mint against the glass that made for a pleasant aroma in the air. The few times before that Cas had happened upon the room before, there was usually an assortment of large pillows arranged in the middle of the floor like the perfect place for a man and his dog to curl up for a nap. The pillows were still there, but shoved over towards the walls in order to make room for the two yoga mats unrolled across the floor and the two toned and unclothed figures taking up those mats in the middle of a stretch that Cas distractedly identified as an Upward Facing Dog pose.

They both looked up and smiled at the Novaks' entrance, though the woman quickly wrinkled her nose. "You both smell like gasoline and smoke. Did you drive straight here from your last hunt?"

"The prospect of coming home to you both was more attractive than finding a motel to shower and crash in first," Jimmy answered, earning two beaming smiles as the witch and his familiar rolled back out of their stretches and carefully got to their feet. "Although showers would probably be a good idea now. Sorry for any grave dirt we tracked in."

"It'll clean, as will the both of you," Sam said with a shrug as he picked up a robe while the woman gave herself a quick shake and became a much more recognizable golden retriever. "How about you both stash your bags and clean up while I get dressed and start breakfast?"

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Cas agreed.

And if he was now planning for a cold shower, well, nobody else needed to know that.

#sastimmy #jamstiel #sam wesson #bones the dog #jimmy novak #castiel #fluffyfebruary2023 #supernatural fic

[artemiseamoon]

Pt 2: In the aftermath of everything

Slate (ofc) & Walt Breslin & Sal Orozco | ft. Calderoni and an Omc

Words: 5,970

Warnings: vague sexual content, language

About: Slate reunites with Walt and Sal, and continues to navigate life after Mexico. Walt and Slate have a bonding moment.

Fic info | Read pt one here ** important to read this first | part three

Read on A03

An: This has taken on a life of its own! I did plan out the oneshot, after the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Now, the story wants to grow. I am merely a vessel so here we go. The weather forecast is predicting angst and longing. No Calderoni in this chapter, but we do find out what happened soon! We haven’t seen the last of him yet. - Next chapter is up! And he’s featured in it.

3 months later

“Hell of a reunion.” The words barely left Walts’ lips before he slid a cigarette between them. He's doing his lazy smoking, when the cigarette is dangling loosely from his lips. Somehow, it never falls, at least not yet.

“You know that shit makes me nervous, Breslin. Watch the cig.”

Walt chuckled. There wasn't much energy behind that either, it's low, just like his voice, “all the shit you’ve seen Slate? And this makes you nervous?” He glanced back at her, his eyes concealed by his shades, same as everyone in the car.

“Yep.” Slate grabbed the cigarette and pretended to throw it out the window.

Walt grinned, took it back, then slipped it between his lips. In the driver seat, Sal chuckled quietly, his eyes still fixed on the house ahead. Only a minute or two pass in silence before Sal speaks, “target on the move.”

That evening

Walt returned to the table and placed a drink before Slate and Sal.

“Thanks man.” Sal raises his to his lips,

Slate responds with a small nod then does the same.

“Thanks for coming out, I wanted people I can trust on this.” Walt said as he settled into the spot next to her.

“For you, “she traded a glance with Walt, then Sal, “and you, I’m in. No matter what.”

They raised their glasses then proceeded to drink.

Conversation was light, and no one forces anything. In the background, modern rock plays from the speakers mixed with some classics. Slate people watches as she drinks, and soon round two makes it to the table, this time on her dime.

Back at Walt’s place, late that night

Slate dropped down on the couch with a sigh. With three rounds of drinks in her system, she's feeling a little drunk and thankful for her newly cleared mind. Walt plopped himself down next to her. By the time Slate looks at him, he’s got a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Thanks for letting me crash here, Walt."

“Least I could do.” He put the lighter on the side table.

Slate examines his face closely and grabs his chin, Walt stilled under her touch. “Hey, you sleeping?”

“I sleep fine.”

“Okay, sure,” she releases his face and moves her attentions to her socks. Rising one leg at a time, she peels them off as Walt watches.

Walt clears his throat, then settles his gaze on the cigarette smoke. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Nah, it’s your place, couch is fine.”

Walt took a long drag of the cigarette, then blew out a puff of smoke, “take the bed.”

Slate shifted on the couch so she could face him, "fine, if you insist.”

She studies his profile as he stares at nothing. He looks dead tired, but Walt never looked refreshed either, not really. He got close a few times and looks like a new man when he does get some sleep and a diet consisting of more than beer, scotch and cigarettes. A couple years back, he had about 10 more pounds on his thin frame. He was sleeping better too.

Slate understood better than anyone how stressful their job is. It has a way of taking its toll on everyone; physically, emotionally, mentally. As she studied him, Walt turned his head to look at her, his body is still facing forward.

One of the things Slate noticed about Walt early on is his large brown eyes, puppy dog eyes. Over the years they've been weighed down by so much stress, pain, and whatever else Walt buries deep within himself. His eyes hold back a turbulent storm of emotions and memories, all held in place by sheer will and stubbornness.

For those who know him well, Walt has another layer to his eyes. He always seemed on the verge of wanting to say something more than he does. Like part of him wants to open up, just a little. There’s this burning need deep inside of Walt and sometimes Slate just hugs him, unprompted, because he really fucking needs it.

So that's what she does next, she inched closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Walt laughed awkwardly at first, then breathed into it. Walt closes his eyes, then gripped her arm with a little squeeze. He inhaled deeply, savoring the contact, and the scent on her skin and hair.

“That bad huh?”

“Yeah, it’s just radiating off of you. Sad boy vibes thru and thru Breslin.”

Walt's eyes remained glued to her, “fuck off.” A hint a smile appeared, then disappeared from his lips.

“Yeah, fuck you too.” She smirked then released him from her arms.

Walt continues to regard her softly as she stands. “You have anything other than old take out and beer in the fridge?”

“Properly not.”

“Of course.” Slate shouted back as she headed into the kitchen.

It’s viewable from the living room, and Walt continues to smoke while watching her.

Slate closes the fridge and opens one of the cabinets, inside is a half empty bag of tortilla chips. “This will do.” She grabs the bag, a bowl, then returns to her spot on the couch.

“We’re going food shopping tomorrow; your skinny ass needs to eat.”

Walt laughed, “I do eat.”

“Cigarettes and beer, scotch for dessert. The Walt Breslin diet.”

“Asshole,” he nudged her with his elbow.

“I have one day left here, and we’re eating real food. Once I leave, you can go back to your shitty diet.”

“Thanks for looking out, I guess.” Walt chuckled and leaned into her, pressing his arm against hers.

She poured the chips into the bowl and before she could grab one, Walt grabs a handful. He grinned then shoved them into his mouth.

The two snacked in silence for a while. Eventually Walt gets up and leaves the room. When he returns, he’s carrying pictures in his right hand, the small kind you use for files.

“What's that?”

“Figured you want 'em, maybe for your picture wall or something,” he sits and hands her the photos, they’re all face down. Slate takes them. Her eyes lingered on Walts a little longer before she glanced down at the photos. “"I've seen that stack of photo album you have.”

“Hey, I love photo albums okay, don’t judge me, “she turns the first photo over. Instantly, her smile drops to a frown and Walt wonders if this was a mistake.

His intention was to do something nice; he was never really good at reading women or knowing what to get them, friend or more. Send him to another country to take down some bad guys, he's in his lane. But anything having to do with gifts, or women, or being emotionally open; he’s pretty rough around the edges there.

Slate swallows hard and sets the other photos down, her eyes are fixed on the same photo she now holds in two hands.

“Shit, I fucked up.” Walt reaches for the photo; she moves her hands out of his reach.

“No, it's- it's okay I,” she blows out a breath and looks Walt in the eyes, “I just, haven't seen his face since - he drove into a fucking tank…” she forced a laugh, “more metal than I’ll ever be, fucking asshole.”

When she blinks, a single tear rolls down her cheek. They both take the deaths hard, and though Walt had history with Ossie and knew him longer, once Ossie and Slate met, it was like long lost friends getting back together. It was hard to imagine they didn’t know each other already. They were instant best friends, and his death really fucked her up. Slate didn’t talk about the deaths, nor did Walt. They're alike that way.

“I miss this fucker, “Slate gently places the photo down on the coffee table in front of them. Ossie's grinning in it, fresh off some arrest and just smiling like he won the fucking lotto, classic Ossie.

Walt laid a hand on her shoulder, “I can take 'em back.”

“No. I want them. I want to remember their faces, “she meets Walt's waiting gaze, “add them to a photo album 'cause you know, I’m sentimental. “

A thin smile curved on Walt's lips; he gives her shoulder a little squeeze before taking his hand away.

“Thank you, Walt. For the photos."

Walt rubbed the back of his neck as relief washed over his face, “it was touch-and-go there, wasn't sure if I did good, or if you were about to clock me.”

“Maybe both?” She teased.

Slate breaks eye contact first and Walt continues to stare at her, “hey, is Sal leaving tomorrow?”

“Day after, same as you.”

“I have an idea," when she paused, Walt notices her eyes land on the photo again, "dinner, all three of us. Before we disperse into our little corners of the world again.”

“Then we definitely need take out. Have you ever seen me over a stove?” Walt raised a brow.

“I’ll cook, and no, you’d properly burn the kitchen down. You can be my sous chef.”

He scrubbed his hand over his chin, “I’m good at a few things, cooking isn't one of them.”

“That’s why you’ll be sous chef, leave the heavy lifting to me."

“Speaking of, still seeing that chef guy?”

“God no, that's done, he was more of a mess than I am.” Her eyes meet Walts, “Speaking of love lives, are you seeing anyone?”

Walt drops his eyes to his hands, he's fiddling with the lighter now, “no.”

Mexico was four months ago now, and in that time, Walt’s been keeping as busy as possible. His new job started out shitty, mostly paperwork. But when he finally got some foot action, it improved things, gave him less time to think. Less time to feel all the shit he doesn't want to feel.

In that time, he did reconnect briefly with an old associate and the two hooked up, twice. Walt tried to hold on to the comfort of those nights; having someone in his bed, a body next to his, warm soft skin to touch. The brief fling was a much-needed release for all his pent-up energy. Walt tried to not think about it, but he made amends with being a lonely guy a long time ago. Just, after Mexico, he’s feels lonelier than ever.

“Besides, “he picks up one of the last chips in the bowl, “if I had someone, I’d probably fuck it up. Better to just be alone.”

“Breslin, that's some depressing shit.”

He sits up and looks her in the eyes. His little shrug after is the real kicker.

Sad boy Walt Breslin.

Despite the thought, Slate doesn't judge him. She hadn't made the best decisions herself, specifically the Commander. And she figured she wasn't the best girlfriend material either. She has a lot of stuff to work on, and release before she can share herself with someone.

For now, as it has been, she sticks to fleeting sexual adventures and one-night stands. If Walt knew about the Calderoni thing, she’d never hear the end of it, it’s one of her big dark secrets and she intends to keep it that way.

“I’m not much better, “her voice is so low he leans in to hear her better, “I’m damaged goods too. Properly wouldn't even know what to do in a relationship at this point.” She leaned back on the couch and brought her knees to her chest, “thank god for hot dudes who don’t need conversation or heart to hearts.”

“At least one of us has been getting laid, congrats.” He holds the chip out to her, then eats it.

Slate rests her gaze on the wall ahead.

A minute or so passes before Walt asks, “if you got the opportunity to go back, to do more, would you?”

“Hell no.” She replied swiftly. “No way.”

Walt grinned, “I can understand that.”

“We did what we did, it ended how it ended. I have no reason to ever go back.” Slate gets a faraway look in her eyes; one Walt has seen before. “You would,” Walt quirks a brow, “go back I mean. Think you’re the only one who would.”

Walt doesn’t reply, because she's right. Even if the commonsense part of his brain is telling him to stay his ass on this side of the border, he knows, if given the chance, he’d be on a plane and right back into the madness. Sometimes, Walt wondered if that was the only way he could really exist. He still finds himself struggling a bit in mundane regular life. Still, there is a part of him he keeps deeply hidden, a part of him that craves more but he won't let himself have it.

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, both swimming in their own thoughts and observations about things. Some time passes before Slate breaks it,

“Sometimes I think I need to talk to someone about all the shit that went down, not just Mexico, before that too. “She pauses, Walt's eyes are on her again, “my family didn't believe in therapy…funny how family shit has a way of settling into your bones. Next thing you know, you're perpetuating the same patterns.”

Walt frowns, but it feels more personal to him, and whatever is going on in his head right now.

“I’m thinking about getting a therapist.”

“Hope that works out.”

Her gaze falls to his bouncing leg, “You should think about it too, Walt.”

“Nah, me and my problems are my business," Walt touches his chest, "I’m fine.”

“Walt,” She gently places a hand over his, “seriously, as your friend, you should consider it. We can do a friendship pack, make sure we stay accountable.”

He shakes his head, no, “Slate, it aint gonna happen.”

She frowns and lifts her hand; his eyes follow the movement of her hand from his leg to her own. He can see the disappointment written all over her face and wishes he had a better answer for her, but to say anything else would be a lie. He's impressed she's even considering it, it's a mature move. Walt also doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so changes the subject.

“How they treating you in New York?”

“Alright. It’s a big department, the shit jobs suck but honestly, don’t know if I can handle anything high risk right now.” she replied, taking note of his subject change but not commenting on it.

“Well,” Walt stands up and stretches, “if you ever get sick of it, I could get you in here.”

Slate smiled, “Miss having your buddies around? You know they didn't put us in the same place on purpose.”

“I know, fuck them. You, me, Sal in the same place again. Let's make it happen.” His tone raises a little as his excitement grows," think I can get Jaime on board."

Slate stands too and stretches out her legs. “No one knows me back east, it's kind of nice.”

“Can't fault you on that.”

“Well see,” she pats his arm, “maybe I'll change my mind.” they look at each other for a moment, “I'm pretty beat, going to take over your bedroom now.”

“Please do,” Walt steps aside and motions to the hallway, “changed the sheets for you and everything. “

“Wow, hotel level service at the Breslin, lucky me.” Slate heads toward the hall and glances at him over her shoulder, “nite Walt.”

“Goodnight, Slate.”

Dinner the next night

Sal ate another bite of food then dropped the fork, “Slate, you were holding out on us. This is delicious.”

“I couldn't really whip up a meal in an old warehouse, could I?” She smiled as she carried a glass of water to the table.

“Shit, we could have made it work, if we were going to eat like this.” Walt takes a big bite; he looks like a chipmunk.

“Thanks,” She takes a moment to watch them eating, enjoying the looks on their faces and the sounds leaving their mouths.

She liked to cook, didn't do it often, but when she had time, and if she was in the mood, it was a whole thing. And though only a small amount of people in her life were able to see this part of her, she knows food is one of her love languages. Making it, offering it, asking if someone ate. After everything the three have been through together, this feels extra special, and even if it's just for one night, she’s glad they get to share this.

Slate knew Sal through Walt. She met him about 3 years back after her transfer to Houston. They even worked a few jobs together, but he mostly worked with Walt. When Walt’s brother died, Sal and Slate were there for him. The two sat with him all night. Walt was gone, he didn’t talk, he didn’t cry, he didn’t say a word; he just stared at the wall and ran through half a pack of cigarettes.

-Flashback - 2.5 years ago Houston, Texas -

Slate stepped away from the car and stood before Sal, neither spoke as he raised the radio to his mouth.

“Walt, we need you at 3500 Lockwood right now.” He lifted his finger from the button.

Slate looked over her shoulder at the car again, “This is gonna fuck him up Sal.”

“ I know - “Sal paused as Walt’s voice came through the radio, they can hear music in the background.

“Sal, what is it?” Walt asked.

“It’s your brother.”

“I’m on my way.”

Slate rested her hands on her hips as she paced. There was nothing left to do, just wait for Walt's arrival.

A few short minutes later, the sound of screeching tires pulled their attention to the street. Walt’s jeep came to a stop, and he flung himself out; concern written all over his face as he makes his way through the crowd, and under the tape. After Walt flashed his D.E.A badge to the cop, he approached the crime scene, Sal and Slate walked over to him.

“Walt - “Sal started, but Walt kept walking, his eyes fixed on his brothers' car.

Sal and Slate stay closed but gave him space as he approached the car. Walt used the sleeve of his jacket and grabbed the car door. Opening it, he crouched down, and took a closer look at his brother. He's dead in the driver's seat, eyes closed, blood splattered on the window glass. Cocaine and a pack of cigarettes on the passenger seat. The red and blue lights from the police car continued to flash, coloring Walt and the inside of the car.

Sal approached first and shakes his head regretfully, “I'm sorry man.”

They continued to stare at Walts back, he went completely still. Slate swallowed then called his name. Walt got up and stalked away from the car, not saying a word or looking at either of them.

“Fuck.” Slate turned to Sal,” what do we do?”

“Nothing we can do. Not right now at least…go, keep an eye on him. I’ll catch up.”

Slate nodded then headed off after Walt.

- Flashback over -

To this day, Walt doesn't talk about that night, or his brother. But he did thank them one night as they had a few rounds,

“Thank you being there, means a lot.” Six words. Six words with a whole lot of weight behind them.

Slate knew, their shared history was only one of the many reasons he asked them to Mexico. He handpicked everyone on his team. It made the loss of their guys; Ossie, Danilo and Amat even harder. They weren't strangers, they were people Walt knew.

For Slate, she only knew Sal, and Daryl vaguely. Everyone else she met for the first time on the job. In their time together, they became a dysfunctional- functional family. Even years from now, she knows she’ll still miss them, even the ones she didn’t get to know that well.

During this dinner, as they eat, drink, joke and laugh, she misses them. She can imagine them at the table; Ossie to her left making a joke or fucking with someone, Amat across the way with a smile that reaches his eyes as he enjoys himself, and Danilo with a beer in his hand, listening but not saying much.

The ghost of their three fallen friends fills the room, they're here, she can feel it. Slate's eyes drift to the box of playing cards on the counter, and a memory comes rushing back.

- Flashback -

“Oh, come on!” Slate throws her cards down on the table. Amat smiles and sits back in the chair with a proud grin.

“I won.”

“No, best of three, let's go - “she grabs the cards and shuffles them again.

“She’s a sore loser, I warned you.” Ossie shouted from where he’s sitting, he looks like a kid hanging from a jungle gym.

Slate doesn't look up but frees on hand to flip him off. She gets a chuckle out of Sal whose reclining on the couch.

“I got the green light.” Walt strolled into the room, a coffee cup in his hand. "This is it.”

Ossie cheers before jumping down to ground level, “Whoo-hoo!”

Walt stops at the table where Slate and Amat were playing cards. Daryl comes over, a beer in his right hand. He's chewing the last of his lunch. Danilo is off to the left, but still close enough to see and hear everything going on.

“The golden ticket, the whole reason we’re down here. We know where he is, so today we go get him.”

Daryl asked, “what about the army?”

“Not leaving. We go in guns-a-blazing we’ll get eaten alive, so we gotta do this one different.”

Stale looks to Walt,” what's the play? After Verdin, shits loud. We gotta be careful.”

“I fucked up, shit got a whole lot harder. We’re on their radar, our only advantage is they don't know our identities yet. We’re in this fight, so let’s finish it.”

-Flashback over-

“Too bad Daryl couldn’t make it.” Sal commented, it pulls Slate out of her thoughts and memories.

“Smash and grab crew, back together.” Walt grins before taking a drink of his beer.

“His girl is pregnant right? Daryl?” Slate asked.

“Yeah,” Walt answers, “our boys about he be a family man.”

“Cheers to that. After everything, we deserve all the good we can get.” Sal raises his beer, Walt and Slate do the same.

Later that night

“Can't believe he's asleep already.” Slate observes Sal, he's knocked out on the couch, his mouth slightly open. She glances at Walt who’s sitting on the side of the armchair.

“Should we draw on him?” A childlike grin brightens Walt's face.

“Fuck yes we should!” Slate is first on her feet and looks around for a marker. She finds one and creeps over to the couch, barely holding back a laugh.

“He’s going to kill us.”

“For sure.” She whispered back then kneels down. She inches close to Sal's face and pops the cap off the marker. She can hear Walt in the back, trying his best not to laugh. Slate draws a curly mustache on Sal's cheeks.

Walt peers over her shoulder.

Slate looks at him, “If Ossie was here, he’d draw a dick.”

Walt catches his laugh in his hands.

Slate opens the marker again, “I'm gonna draw a cock for Ossie.” she examines Sal, then settles on his forehead. Walt can't contain his laugher and leaves the room.

The suppressed laugh is making her body shake. After she finishes, Slate caps the marker then goes to the hallway toward the bedroom, where Walt is curled over laughing.

“What next Breslin, I’m too amped to sleep?” She tosses the marker at him.

“I know I'm not fallin' asleep on your watch, not with this fucking marker.” Walt tucks it in his back pocket.

Slate grins, “For the best, you'd wake up with something long and hard drawn next to your mouth."

“You would do that,” Walt takes a breath and glances at the clock on the wall.

“I have an idea, its genius, hear me out,” she drapes one arm over his shoulders, “let's go out, I’ll be your wingman.”

Walt moistens his lips, then smiles.

“Oh, come on, today is one of the best we've had in a long time, I don’t want it to end. I know you don't either. So, let me play wingman, I bet you 20 bucks I can get you laid tonight. “

“I really regret making that comment now.” he shoves his hands deep into his pockets.

“Oh, come on, don't be shy. I know you aren't. Let me help, I'm a damn good wingman.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, he can't look away.

Walt considers the offer. Truth is, it sounds like the perfect way to end the day and it's been a while, not that it's the longest he's gone without, there have been longer stretches.

Slate tightens her grip around his shoulders, “Come on, it will be fun."

Walt's expression grows serious, “I don't know Slate,”

“Is it weird because it's me?” she asks.

Walt starts to say something, then stops himself. He pulls it back, deep down inside of himself. Instead, he says, "today was nice. I think I’ll try to get some sleep though. And I'm holding on to this marker." He patted his back pocket.

“Really?” she pouts.

Walt lifts her arm from his shoulders, “yes, I suck I know.”

“The nights young.” Slate tugs on his shift.

“And I'm not,” he offers a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, “I'm taking the armchair, fell asleep in that thing plenty of times before. Bedrooms still yours.”

Slate leans back against the wall, her eyes searching Walts, a very clear grimace on her lips.

“Don't give me that face, I know, “he steps into her space and ruffles her hair with his hand. “Get some sleep.”

“Fine,” she exhales dramatically, “I’m going to use your phone, I’ll be quiet so the old man can sleep."

He laughs at the last part, “Its midnight. Who the hell you callin' at midnight?”

“Joaquin will be up; I need something to do.”

“Who's Joaquin?” Walt rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, “she shakes her head, “just this guy."

“A boyfriend?” he asked quietly.

“I wouldn't call him that," her eyes drift to a photo on the wall, it's a generic art print, likely came with the place and Walt never took it down. She adds, "

“We hang out, nothing official.” When her eyes travel back to Walt, it gives her pause, now he looks disappointed. “Hey, massive mood shift, you okay Breslin?”

“Fine, tired.” He muttered, then turned toward the living room. “Good night, Slate.”

She watches him leave, then heads to the bedroom. Once she's inside, a flash of clarity takes over her buzzed mind. Was Walt disappointed because she mentioned Joaquin? Walt never cared about that kind of thing, and they've been friends for years. They've spoken casually about dates they've had before and he never seemed to have a reaction, not until now. Or maybe she was over thinking it. Maybe he was just put off by the phone call comment. it was midnight after all.

The next day, Slate wakes with a slight hangover, but it's easy to shake off. She finds a very pissed off Sal and helps him get the marker off his face. He eventually laughs about it, and she makes him breakfast as an apology.

Walt sleeps in, which was a surprise. But when he does wake, he seems far away and quieter than usual. It makes for an awkward morning, at least on that end. Once Sal heads out for his flight, it was just the two of them. Walt didn't say much, and instead of sticking around longer, Slate decided to head to the airport early. Walt dropped her off, and even their hug goodbye seemed off.

That Night, Slate back in NY

Stepping off the elevator, Slate stops before the mirror and checks out her outfit. Satisfied with what she sees, she takes a right and head to apartment 3C. Slate knocks on the door once more and it swings open. Joaquin peeks his head out, and drinks her up with his eyes, “fuck, I'm a lucky man."

Slate steps inside, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. She slides one hand in his hair and shuts the door closed with the other.

"I think you missed me." He whispered as their lips parted. Slate doesn't confirm, nor deny.

The kiss quickly escalates to a heated make out. When they break for air, Slate grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head and arms. Once he's shirtless, she lightly scratches his chest and moves to his belt buckle.

Joaquin grabs her face and looks into her eyes, "How was your trip?"

Slate undoes his belt and pulls it off in one impressive movement. She tosses it across the room, "no questions, keep kissing me.”

Later

Slate watches the curtains sway in the breeze, it's a nice night out and the moon is nearly full. She stretches her arms over her head and hums, her body is still buzzing.

Javier is starting at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. "I was thinking about something."

"Yeah?" She rolls onto her side to get a full view of him.

Often times she found herself just gazing at him. Besides being a great lay, Joaquin is nice to look at, and she likes his voice, she's always been a sucker for a man with a good voice. He rides a motorcycle and looks damn good in all black and a leather jacket, as long as he didn't want more from her, she planned on keeping him around a while.

Meeting him was an unexpected treat, she was at a bar, not to meet anyone, just to drink away her Calderoni problem and say goodbye to her short lived and ill-fated tryst with the hot chef. She was at the bar about 30 minutes when Joaquin entered. He wasted no time introducing himself, and that same night they slept together for what became the first of many times.

"Hey, did you hear me?" He asked gently as he caresses her arm.

"Repeat that?" She brings herself back to the present moment.

"It's been two months now, I still don't know anything about you, except what you told me."

"I prefer to remain mysterious." She winks at him.

Joaquin sits up, opens the top side drawer and pulls something out; it's a preroll. He feels around on the table for a lighter, finds it, then lights the joint.

“Every time I light one of these up, I wonder if you’re going to arrest me.”

“I could if you want me too,” she smirked, then took a hit of it.

Joaquin watches her with a grin, "I'm going for a long ride tomorrow, want to come. Out to Hudson."

"Sure, I'm off, unless I get called in," she hands it back, "but I should be free."

"Cool," Joaquin caresses her face, "it's a plan."

Two days later

After crossing everything off her list for the day, Slate found herself thinking about the photos from Walt. Heading to the bedroom, she pulled them out the drawer she tucked them in and sat at her vanity table. She placed then down one by one; Ossie, Amat, Danilo.

- Flashback-

“Sure you’re up to this? We’re in this with our lives, if shit goes down, it could be worse for you.”

Slate continued peeling the label off the bottle. She took her time but eventually made eye contact with Danilo. It's short lived, her eyes then follow the puff of smoke from his cigarette.

“I know the risks. No way I can do this job and not know that."

Danilo nods and continues to smoke.

Slate lowers herself to the ground, sits, then knocks back the rest of her beer.

“How long you’ve known Walt?”

“Shit, about, 11 years?” She glanced up at Danilo, "on and off, we weren't always around each other the whole time.”

“Fucker gets a round, doesn’t he.” Ossie jumped in as he steps outside, wearing a joker's gin and holding a beer.

“Yeah, lots of notches on his belt.” Slate replied. Her eyes jumped to Danilo, who seemed indifferent.

“Was it dinner and a movie, or straight to fucking?” Ossie barely keeps a straight face as he asked.

“Jesus.” Danilo sighed, then headed back inside.

Ossie chuckled as he watched him disappear inside. He takes a seat on the ground beside her.

Slate twist her neck to look at him, “Dinner and a movie, I got the whole 9. You?”

“Nah straight to it, Walt's a man of little words.”

They both laugh at Ossie's response. As the laughter dies down, they grow quiet and listen to the sounds of the night.

Eventually, Ossie said, "Must feel weird, being the only chic here.”

“Naw, used to it. This happens a lot.'' She puts the bottle down between her legs. Ossie nods, then lights a cigarette, "I smell like smoke all the time because of you guys.”

“Should join the fun.” he offers her the cigarette,

Slate pushes his hand away, “Hard pass.”

- Flashback over -

Pictures in hand, Slate headed to the living room and stopped in front of her photo collage, it's full of familiar faces, friends, her youth, and more. Taking her time, she adds each photo to the collage then takes a step back to review it. As she steps away from it, her phone rings. Slate heads to the wall and answers, her ear is met with a familiar voice,

“Hey.”

“Hey, Walt."

“I uh,” from the sound of his voice alone, she can imagine Walt leaning against his counter, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. “That case I told you about; the hearing was today.”

“How'd, it go?” She sat on the floor.

“Good, we got the bastards.”

She hears the excitement in his voice, and it makes her smile, “Congrats, you should be celebrating. I hope you are.”

“One man party right here, drinks and all, “Walt goes silent, and Slate just listens, waiting for him to continue.

She tried to call him when she got back, but he either wasn't there or didn’t pick up. That was three days ago now. The awkwardness in the air when she left still hasn't been addressed. She wasn't mad at Walt for not saying anything, she didn’t know what to say either.

“Slate, I was wondering’ - “Walt stops himself.

“Wondering what?”

He doesn't reply.

Slate knew this call could be one of two things, one, his way of saying he needed someone to talk to. Walt never asked for a friendly ear, instead he'd call about something else, or talk to you about work, or invite you for drinks on him. This could be one of those calls, or he could be the one ready to address their awkward goodbye.

The longer his silence goes on, the more curious she grows, “wondering what, Walt?”

“Ah, nothing, just, work stuff…it was good having you out here.”

Slate closes her eyes and rests her head back against the wall. “Yeah, it was nice Walt.”

“I’m gonna go, have yourself a goodnight.”

“Yeah, you too Breslin.” she listens for a click sound, it doesn't come. Slate can still hear him on the other side listening to her, the same as she's listening to him.

Feeling overwhelmed, Slate stands and whispers goodnight into the receiver once more before hanging up the phone.

Next

Might be interested. If not, I can remove the tag ;) chapter 2&3 are on A03 as well @yourlocalspacewitxch @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc

Joaquin FC (Slates new side piece)

#Walt Breslin #sal orozco #narcos Mexico

[justaredheadf1fan]

Monaco GP, chaos made Formula 1 circuit

Masterlist

Well, hiyah people!

So, I still haven't processed what happened last weekend tbh. And I've already moved to Formentera and everything but nope, I can't seem to wrap my mind around the Barcelona GP after a week. What a mess. It was so cool, so tyring and so... many things all at once that I can't do it. And the only thing in my mind right now is Formula 1, like a pure obsession. Which it is, of course. But it's the only topic running free through my brain, like this:

Back to the thing now, I didn't write anything yesterday firstly because I'm a messand I postponed it until it was already way too late, and secondly because as I said, I actually moved yesterday so it was a crazy day catching a plane, a ferry, taxis and everything to get to my temporary accommodation until I'm moved to my actual place for the next few months. So you see, I couldn't really find it in me to stay up until 3am 🤪

FP1 and FP2 gave us a couple of shockers for what I saw initially through Twitter until I properly watched it after I arrived here. Mick's car stopped in the exact entrance of the pit lane and then Daniel crashing would be the 2 scary moments of the first Monaco practice sessions this year. What made me angry about Daniel's crash, wasn't the crash in itself since we all know that can happen, especially in Monaco.

The worst thing was his engineer asking him "Is the car okay?" THE FUCK WAS THAT, MAN. Are they really that insane in McLaren that they're showing that blatantly their little worry or interest about Daniel? Seriously? And that was after the question he received during the Press rounds before FP1 about Zac Brown's comment about his time in McLaren not being up to par. For fuck's sake. He's way too good and respectful, they don't deserve him and I hope he finds another team, seriously.

Today in FP3 honestly I haven't really paid much attention, but for what I've gathered there hasn't been any incidents, which is a good thing. Yes, a few guys have gone off track but within normal stuff mostly. A scary moment for Seb was the one thing I've noticed that could've been pretty bad, because Carlos was going pretty slow but I haven't seen if they've investigated it or not afterwards.

Now I'm watching Quali and it's looking interesting. There was a Red Flag caused by Yuki apparently almost at the end of Q1, but I'm not sure that was Red Flag worthy, honestly. Yes, he fucked up his tyre, but still. I might be wrong, but I don't know. The line to get out of the pit lane after the Q1 session was restarted was pretty funny, in the words of Ky (@FiftyBucksVT) on Twitter "McDonald's drive-thru on a weekend". On point, indeed.

Now our lord and savior Sebastian Vettel right in the very last moment got through to Q3 making P8, which is amazing. It seems he's gaining confidence in the car and he's being doing rather well lately, so I have hopes about him. Charles has cut his lap time down to 1:11 which is incredible. The boy never seems to stop. I really hope he's lucky to get the result he deserves at home FINALLY. At least Lewis seems to have faith, since he has declared himself a fan, it's endearing truly ❤️

Now it's time for Q3 while I start writing again. Fernando had a pretty good lap so far, but for now getting to that time from Leclerc is looking complicated. And I hope it stays that way except for the man himself or Lewis, they're the only ones with rights.

And now just as I was writing Checo had an accident and Carlos saw the Yellow Flag too late and crashed into him, and for what the Spanish commentators said Fernando crashed too. Quite the end to the Monaco Quali, right? And they fucked Verstappen's lap, so all is good for now 😂

And they wanted to take Monaco out of the calendar. Jesus Christ, this is the reason Monaco should stay in the calendar, Quali day is the absolute madness that makes this GP amazing despite the race being quite boring unless some crazy shit happens, and that's what I'm hoping for. I'm sorry but whoever says that Monaco shouldn't be on the calendar anymore has no idea.

My dear boy keeps his pole, as he so well deserves. Pity about Lewis not being able to get a last chance at achieving a better time, but we know the car's working better now, so there's hope there too. I'm happy today. It's gonna be an interesting one tomorrow if some people start acting crazy, which I'm really looking forward to.

Now I'll be getting something to eat at last. The past 3 weeks have really messed with my lunch times big time 😂 As we say in Spanish (and I'm translating word by word, so don't mind me): tomorrow, more and better.

See you tomorrow, darlings!

#f1 #formula 1 #mercedes amg f1 #scuderia ferrari #aston martin racing #haas f1 team #mclaren f1 racing #alfa romeo racing #alpine f1 team #scuderia alpha tauri #williams racing #sir lewis hamilton #George Russell #Charles Leclerc #Carlos saint jr #sebastian vettel #lance stroll #mick schumacher #kevin Magnussen #daniel ricciardo #lando norris #zhou guanyu #valtteri bottas #esteban ocon #fernando Alonso #pierre gasly #yuki tsunoda #alex albon #nicholas latifi #monaco gp 2022

[violet-dragongirl]

LONG INFODUMP POST ON MY EXPERIENCE IN PROJECT CARS 2 INCOMING!

SO! GOOD PROGRESS IN PCARS 2!

So I'm going with an old strategy for tuning the Formula A* car but I'm going at it piece by piece and taking things A LOT slower on understanding the whole "what's wrong with this setup I'm trying?"

*From looking at some forums and patch updates of the game, they did indeed change how the Formula A cars felt. So they're slower than they were at one point which also made almost every setup for them nearly entirely useless. For me this is a non-issue because:

1) I do not have access to said setups and honestly, I'm not looking forward to try them. They're not bad but I feel like I'd be more frustrated if I did try them so for my own sanity and sake, I'm not putting too much effort into finding the Old Meta of the Formula A. Just gotta find my own and what works for me

2) I feel like if I did look up a setup for the Formula A cars which would indeed make things even more efficient, I would still lack the understanding for myself how each component of the tuning mechanics in Project Cars 2 works. So it's more work for me but it's also more needed learning towards the interest I have in automobile sims :3

With that said, here's the deets on how I'm doing so far with Formula A cars in Project Cars 2:

I'm doing this so that way I can get a standardized setup* for ALL tracks in the game to then tweak for each particular track, and then the weather of the racing event**

*(To some, this might be considered to be...stupid...but oh well just keep reading and work with me here)

**(There's three rounds/events within each race track event on the date it's set in the game: the Practice, the Qualify, and the Racing. The practice is where I can tweak said standardized custom setup to the track at hand that isn't Le Mans 24h. Then there's the weather part of the game where it's just as crucial to understand because yes the game's weather absolutely changes that standardized setup. Simply meaning, if it's raining, having Slick tyres as the go-to would wind me going to the tire walls around the track and crashing every time, so I have to set up not only the tyres to Wet Tyres, but also probably change the other components to match the weather at hand. I still hate rainy racing events, but I'll do them nonetheless)

So I started from scratch (like...pure scratch, not from a custom setup, right from the Stable Setup that Slightly Mad Studios put in) and ran the Le Mans 24h track. After more than two or so laps of tyres and brakes warming up I started feeling how the car felt to me by actually running it a couple times more (around 3 currently. The recommended is 5 to 10 and that's way to exhausting for me right now...so I gotta get in shape to get to that point)

It wasn't awful and I was pacing pretty well with the defaulted settings! This is a good thing! But it wasn't a great thing.

I was negating/being penalized the time trail record by too much understeering in at least 1 sector and about 4 slow turns...going off the track is troublesome in any regard..oof. And knowing my driving style, understeering is worse than oversteering because at least with oversteering I can compensate better and also recover faster--even if having too much oversteer is..not a good thing for this car either.

The first thing I realized based on my style was the brakes weren't feeling right. So I tuned those first and ONLY those. Didn't touch tyre pressure, didn't touch the TYPE of tyres (started out with Soft Slick) and didn't touch on downforce. All I was focused on was break bias and the brake ducts. After a few more laps the second run, things started to feel better; the brakes were warming up fast and keeping at a working temperature (around 380~420 Celcius)...but like a good simmering soup...the setup was not near "perfection" yet.

So then I tweaked the brakes a bit more and called it a day cos the third time, things felt good and the numbers were within a good range of the sweet spot (I'm not trying to get TO the sweet spot. Just close enough until I'm ready as a whole to find it in all components).

Next was the tyre type, the tyre pressure, and the downforce of the chassis.

The worst feeling in the world is when the back starts slinging cos, again, as much as I like oversteering compared to understeering, Formula A cars are the WORST for both and should NOT BE DOING THAT in a way that is not fit for the car.

So I went back and tweaked the tyre pressure because I was hitting like...~2.15-ish bar on the front tyres and about 1.70 in the back...Yikes :))))))

So I cooled down and tried a lower pressure, then switched to Hard Slick due to the track's temperature (around 35 Degrees Celcius) to see if that would work.

So far so good, but I might switch back to Soft Slick just in case I misread the grip I had on each corner.

BUT THE BACK OF THE CAR WAS STILL SLINGY AND I HATED IT >:(

So I restart the session, took my last saved setup file, and tried again. This time I lowered the rear downforce from Stable Setup standard then slowly went back up again but not back to Stable Setup standard, kept the front downforce lower than the rear downforce but still higher than the Stable Setup standard so that way I had a higher responsiveness to cornering.

And finally after a few more laps after the out-lap and the warmup laps, I found a decent setup.

Again it's not even close to being done, but now I can at least look at other components other than the Tyres/Brakes/Chassis and find the problems of why I'm over or understeering in corners.

I've also noticed the Travel on the suspension...isn't that great. It's too bumpy and keeps hitting in the red in a lot of places in each sector too often.

So the next thing I'll do next time I play this game is work on the suspension.

Yes, in hindsight, the suspension SHOULD'VE been the first place to look, but eh..the Tyres/Brakes/Chassis column was right there so I said "let's just go from left to right column wise and fix what needs fixing instead of jumping around from component section to component section"

For me this is progress cos it not only feels good, but also it does feel like I'm getting somewhere!

As I am also tweaking the car, I am working on my consistency on the track. Safer is Faster but also knowing the car's limits is important too, and for me the only way to know the cars limits while being safe to be faster, is to be consistent in braking, gear shifting, and finding reference on when to brake and shift, and find my pacing with the setup i have!! ^.^

#irrelevant babble #Project Cars 2 #PROGRESS! :3