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pucksandpower · 1 month

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Hail to the Chief

Lando Norris x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: in which Lando doesn’t realize exactly who he took back to his hotel room after the Miami Grand Prix (and almost causes an international incident in the process)

You stir awake, blinking slowly while you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. The sheets rustle as you stretch, a pleased smile spreading across your face. Strong arms tighten around your waist, and you glance over your shoulder to see Lando gazing at you with warm eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your bare shoulder.

You hum in contentment, snuggling back against his muscular chest. The sunlight streams in through the curtains, casting the hotel room in a cozy glow. Clothes are strewn across the floor, reminders of your passionate night together after meeting at the club.

Lando’s hand trails up your side, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. You shiver as his lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear, his breath hot.

“Ready for round two?” He whispers, his voice husky.

You twist in his arms to face him, locking your legs with his beneath the sheets. “I thought you’d never ask,” you purr, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss.

Just as things start heating up, loud banging erupts from the suite’s door. You break apart, startled. Lando frowns.

“Housekeeping?” You ask in confusion. More pounding follows, furious and insistent.

“I don’t think so,” Lando says warily.

Before either of you can react, the door crashes open, wood splintering. Men in dark suits pour into the suite, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. You yelp, grabbing the sheet to your chest. Lando scrambles upright, shock written across his handsome face.

“What the hell?” He exclaims.

The men converge on the bed in a swarm. Two sequester you, gently steering you away. The others tackle Lando, shoving him to the floor.

“Don’t fight it,” one orders as Lando struggles. He pins Lando’s arms behind his back.

“Get off me!” Lando shouts, face smushed into the carpet. “What is this?”

You know exactly what this is. Your security detail, come to collect you after last night’s escape. Panic rises in your throat.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” you beg the agents holding you.

Their grips remain firm but nonviolent. One talks rapidly into his earpiece, confirming the situation is handled. The apparent leader of the group stands over Lando, who glares up at him defiantly.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” the man states gruffly. “But you’re coming with us.”

Two agents haul Lando to his feet. He stands there in only his boxers, completely perplexed. You bite your lip, shot through with guilt. This is all because of you.

The agent in charge approaches you next, his gaze softening slightly. “Time to go home, ma’am. Your father is waiting.”

Lando’s head whips toward you so fast it must give him whiplash. “Ma’am? Your father?” His face goes ashen with dawning comprehension that there’s more to you than meets the eye. You wince, knowing there’s no way out of this now.

The agents begin herding you and Lando at a brisk pace through the ravaged hotel room door. Lando cranes his neck, trying to look at you.

“Y/N, what the hell is going on?” He hisses, stumbling along in the grip of two agents. “Who are you?”

You open your mouth, an apology on your lips. Before you can speak, the lead agent interjects sharply.

“She’s the First Daughter of the United States, son. And you’re in deep shit.”

Lando pales. “The President’s-”

“That’s right,” the man confirms. “And he’s mighty unhappy you took certain liberties with his little girl.”

Lando gulps audibly. Your heart twists with regret, seeing him so distraught. But the agents allow no further discussion, marching you both through the hotel’s back corridors. In minutes, you’re bundled into a black SUV with tinted windows. Tires screech as your motorcade peels away, sirens blaring.

You reach for Lando’s hand, relief flooding you when he doesn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper earnestly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He searches your face, brow furrowed. But his fingers tighten around yours. “It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You nod, knowing you owe him an explanation. But before you can speak, the SUV rolls to a stop on an empty airport tarmac. A sleek private plane awaits, engines rumbling. The agents hurry you both up the stairs into the lavish cabin.

Once settled inside, the lead agent fixes Lando with a solemn look. “We’re taking you straight to DC. The President wants to have a word with you both.”

Lando gulps again. You squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. My dad’s just a little … overprotective sometimes.”

You nestle close to Lando as the jet taxis down the runway, hoping to provide some comfort. But he sits rigidly, face pale.

“Hey,” you say softly, “It’s going to be okay.”

Lando turns to you with wide, frightened eyes. “Okay? Your dad is the President! And I … I ...” He gestures helplessly at you, at a loss for words.

“Deflowered his only daughter?” You supply with a teasing grin.

Lando gulps loudly. “Oh god. He’s going to kill me, isn’t he? I’m a dead man. They’ll waterboard me or worse.”

You have to laugh at his flustered expression. “Relax, it won’t be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lando grumbles. “You’re not the one who’s gonna get shipped off to some CIA black site never to be heard from again.”

“Oh come on, he won’t go that far.”

Lando turns to you with wide, frightened eyes. “Are you sure? I’ve heard stories about shady government stuff. Secret torture chambers under the White House. Experimental poisons. Attack eagles trained to go for the jugular.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment before stating in a deadpan voice, “The eagles prefer to go for the liver actually. More tender that way.”

Lando lets out a whimper, his face draining of color. “Oh god, you’re serious?” He squeaks. “I knew it, I’m never getting out of this alive!”

You can’t keep a straight face any longer and burst out laughing. “Lando, relax! I’m just messing with you. There are no attack eagles or secret torture chambers.”

You take his hand and kiss his cheek reassuringly. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. My dad will probably just want to have a talk with you. That’s all.”

Lando still looks uncertain, but manages a shaky nod. “If you say so. But I think I’ll say a prayer or two just in case. Please tell me your old man doesn’t have a shotgun.”

“No shotguns,” you confirm, patting Lando’s knee. “But the Secret Service on the other hand ...”

Lando’s eyes widen in renewed fear. He clasps his hands together dramatically and looks upward. “Dear spirit of Ayrton Senna, please protect me from the wrath of the President and his highly trained special agents. I know not what awaits me in Washington, but I beg you to guard me from grievous bodily harm ...”

***

The plane touches down at Andrews Air Force Base, and you and Lando are swiftly escorted from the plane into an armored SUV. Lando fidgets nervously in his seat during the short drive through the capital, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmur, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. He attempts a weak smile in return.

All too soon, the SUV pulls up to the White House. You and Lando are ushered quickly inside by Secret Service agents, bypassing security checks. As you walk briskly through the historic halls, Lando gapes at the lavish architecture and priceless artwork adorning the walls.

“This is unreal,” he whispers. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze.

At last you arrive outside the Oval Office. The agents pause, stone-faced, before opening the tall wooden doors. Your stomach flip-flops with nerves as you enter behind them.

There, seated at the Resolute Desk, is your father — the President of the United States. He rises as you approach, his face impassive. You offer a timid smile.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Your father’s stern expression instantly melts. He circles the desk and pulls you into a warm embrace.

“There’s my little girl,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “You had me so worried.”

Guilt gnaws at you. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t you worry about that now. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He pauses, then adds, “Though if you really wanted an F1 driver, why couldn’t it have been that nice American boy Logan Sargeant? Now there’s an upstanding young patriot.”

Your father holds you by the shoulders, surveying you with concern. Seeing that you’re unharmed, his gaze shifts to Lando hovering awkwardly behind you. Your father’s eyes harden, his jaw setting. Lando audibly gulps.

Stepping between them, you take a deep breath. “Daddy, this is Lando. The man I was with last night.”

You lace your fingers through Lando’s in a show of solidarity. Your father’s piercing stare makes him fidget.

“Lando Norris,” your father states coldly. “Formula 1 driver. British national. Born and raised in Bristol, England. Competes for McLaren Racing. Net worth of $30 million USD. Had unauthorized relations with my daughter approximately ...” He glances at his watch, “ ... twelve hours ago.”

Lando pales under your father’s recitation of his biography and recent activities. You shoot your dad a pleading look.

“Go easy on him, okay?”

Your father’s face softens slightly at your words. He beckons for Lando to step forward.

“Son, you have exactly one minute to explain yourself before I set the full force of the United States government on you for defiling my princess. And believe me when I say there are dark places in this world where no one will ever find you again.”

Lando looks ready to pass out. He glances at you in panic, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze, signaling for him to speak.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. President,” Lando stammers. “Obviously I didn’t know who Y/N was when we met last night. But I care about her a lot, truly, and I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. I have nothing but respect for her and for you, sir.”

He straightens his shoulders, gaining confidence. “I understand I made a mistake, and I take full responsibility. But I promise, my intentions are honorable. If you’ll permit it, I’d like to properly court Y/N with your blessing.”

Your father studies Lando for a long moment, face unreadable. The tension in the room is stifling. Finally, he cracks a wry smile.

“Very well. You’ve got spunk, kid, I’ll give you that. And clearly my daughter sees something in you worth all this trouble. But understand this—” Your father leans in, eyes flashing. “You’ve got one shot to prove yourself worthy of her. Mess it up, and you’ll be scrubbing toilets in Guantanamo Bay for the rest of your short, miserable life. Are we clear?”

Lando audibly gulps again. “C-crystal clear, sir.”

“Good.” Your father claps Lando on the shoulder firmly enough to make him wince. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“I’m not happy you were out all night without security, young lady. You’ll be grounded for two weeks. No cell phone, no social media, and no racing events.” You open your mouth to protest, but your father silences you with a raised hand. “However, in light of the circumstances, we’ll reduce it to one week. Consider yourself lucky.”

You sigh but don’t argue. Your father pulls you in for one more hug. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetpea. Now run along back to the residence while I have a few more words with your new suitor here.”

You give Lando an encouraging smile as you exit the Oval Office. The last thing you see before the door shuts is your father clapping a hand on Lando’s shoulder again, steering him toward the Roosevelt Desk. “Have a seat, son. We’ve got lots to discuss ...”

Lando perches anxiously on the edge of the chair across from your father at the Roosevelt Desk.

“First things first,” your dad begins. “I expect you to treat my daughter with the utmost respect. No staying out all night and no unsavory activities. You will be a gentleman at all times. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Lando says quickly.

“Second, you are not to distract her from her studies. Y/N is on track to graduate top of her class at Georgetown and I won’t have anyone jeopardizing that.”

Lando nods. “Of course not, her education comes first.”

“Good,” your father says gruffly. “Third rule: you will check in with me weekly to provide updates on where you are taking her and what you are doing. And know that my security team will be monitoring your activities closely as well.”

Gulping, Lando agrees to the terms. Your father continues laying down the law for several more minutes, covering everything from curfews to social media posts to PDA.

“And if at any point I decide you are no longer an appropriate suitor for my daughter, you will end the relationship immediately and without argument. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Mr. President,” Lando says quickly. “You have my word I intend to do right by Y/N.”

Your father studies him a moment longer before cracking a wry smile. “Well, you’ve got guts at least, son. Most boys your age would’ve wet themselves by now. I suppose I can give you a chance. But remember, one toe out of line and ...”

He makes a slicing motion across his throat. Lando audibly gulps.

“Yes sir! I understand completely.”

“Good man,” your father says, standing to clap Lando on the back. “Now let’s get you out of here before you really do pass out ...”

***

After the whirlwind events of the day, Lando is given a plush guest suite in the White House residence to spend the night. He collapses onto the king-sized four poster bed, emotionally exhausted.

Just this morning he woke up with the President’s daughter in his arms. Now he’s been threatened within an inch of his life by the leader of the free world. What a wild rollercoaster of a day.

A soft knock at the door makes Lando jump. Before he can respond, you slip inside, closing the door quietly behind you.

“Y/N!” Lando exclaims in a loud whisper. “What are you doing here?”

You smile mischievously, walking over to sit beside him on the bed. “What does it look like? I missed you.”

Lando’s eyes dart around the room, half expecting your father to burst out of the closet. “Are you crazy? If we get caught together your dad will annihilate me!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Oh relax, no one patrols the residential wing’s hallways at night. We’re completely alone.” Leaning in, you brush your lips teasingly along his jaw. “Now where were we this morning before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Lando can’t restrain a small groan of desire, but retains the presence of mind to gently halt your roaming hands. “Y/N, we can’t. You heard your father’s rules.”

You make a face. “Come on, live a little! He won’t know as long as we’re discreet.”

Biting his lip, Lando wavers. Having you here, so warm and willing in his arms, is incredibly tempting. And technically the President had only forbidden unauthorized nighttime activities outside of the White House ...

Sensing his hesitation, you straddle his lap and cup his face in your hands. “I want this, Lando,” you murmur sincerely before kissing him deeply.

That does it. Lando kisses you back hungrily, pulling you flush against him. You let out a delighted hum, fingers spearing into his curls. Within moments you’re both stripped down to your underwear, hands greedily exploring.

But as things heat up, Lando abruptly breaks the kiss, eyes wide. “Did you hear that?” He whispers.

You still, listening closely. “Hear what?”

“I thought I heard something in the hall.”

You grin teasingly. “You’re being paranoid.” But you indulge him and climb off so he can check, wrapping yourself in a sheet.

Lando cracks the door open slowly, peering out. Seeing nothing, he lets out a breath and returns to the bed.

“Okay, false alarm. Now, where were-”

His words cut off with a yelp as you pounce, pinning him beneath you. Laughing, you silence any further protest with your lips. Soon Lando is kissing you fiercely once more, hands roaming your body.

Just as he’s unclasping your bra, Lando breaks the kiss again. “Wait, did you lock the door?”

You huff in feigned annoyance. “Of course I did!”

But Lando is already slithering out from under you to double check. You flop back against the pillows with a sigh.

“Lando, would you relax? No one is coming.” You give him your best pleading look. “Now come back to bed and finish what you started, handsome.”

That seems to do the trick. With one final glance at the locked door, Lando grins and rejoins you. His warm hands and mouth resume their sensual exploration.

You’re both completely lost in each other when suddenly the door handle rattles.

“Someone’s coming!” Lando whispers in alarm.

He hurriedly gathers up the sheets around you just as the door swings open to reveal a Secret Service agent.

“Oh, uh, hello?” Lando says, trying to sound casual despite being shirtless and flushed.

You hold perfectly still under the sheet, heart hammering.

The agent surveys the room suspiciously. “Thought I heard voices. Everything alright in here, Mr. Norris?”

“Yep, all good!” Lando says with forced cheer. “Just chatting on the phone. With my … mum. In England. Time zones, you know.”

The agent clearly doesn’t seem convinced, his gaze raking over the disheveled bed. But after a long pause he simply says “Very well. Have a good night, sir.”

Lando sighs in relief as the door shuts. After a moment, you peek your head out from under the sheet.

“That was close!”

Lando flops back onto the bed, laughing. “No kidding! I thought we were busted for sure.”

Tilting his chin up, you give Lando a slow, sensual kiss. “Now then, I believe you still have some unfinished business to attend to, Mr. Norris ...”

Lando searches your face then grins sheepishly, pulling you into his arms. “You’re absolutely incorrigible. Come here.”

***

For your first official date night, Lando takes you out for dinner in The Inn at Little Washington. You emerge from your room in a stunning silky dress, hair and makeup impeccable.

Lando’s eyes widen and he lets out an appreciative whistle. “Wow. You look incredible.”

He pulls you in for a quick kiss, careful not to smudge your lipstick. Just then, your Secret Service detail emerges, dressed in their standard crisp black suits and sunglasses.

The lead agent addresses Lando gruffly. “Alright, here’s the deal. We’ll be accompanying you tonight, but our goal is to stay invisible. Don’t acknowledge us, don’t make eye contact, just pretend we’re not there.”

Lando nods, looking uncertain. With their massive builds and conspicuous attire, ignoring the agents doesn’t seem likely. But he decides to just go with it.

At the restaurant, the hostess seats you and Lando at a cozy table for two. As promised, your detail blends into the background, taking up positions around the dining room. Lando tries his best not to glance nervously at the two imposing figures lurking near the entrance.

After you order, Lando reaches across the table to take your hand. “You really do look stunning tonight,” he says softly. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

You blush prettily. “Smooth talker. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Lando grins. Just then, the sommelier arrives to present the wine list. As he’s rattling off descriptions of merlots and cabernets, you notice Lando’s gaze drift over the sommelier’s shoulder to where two of your agents are posted nearby. You squeeze Lando’s hand to get his attention back.

“Uh, sorry, what was that last one?” Lando asks, snapping his focus back to the confused sommelier.

Once you’ve ordered wine and appetizers, the conversation flows smoothly. Lando has almost forgotten about your not-so-invisible security until the entrees arrive. The waiter sets down your plates with a flourish.

As he pivots to leave, he collides directly with the broad chest of one of your agents, nearly upending the tray of food.

“Oh! Pardon me, sir,” the waiter stammers. The agent, true to his training, ignores the flustered waiter and remains statue-still.

Lando has to fake a coughing fit to disguise his laugh. You cover your mouth delicately, eyes sparkling with amusement. So much for blending seamlessly into the environment.

As dinner progresses, Lando finds his gaze drawn again and again to your hulking shadows scattered around the restaurant. He watches one agent accidentally block a busboy trying to clear a nearby table. Another nearly takes out a hovering food runner as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. It’s like seeing massive, well-dressed bulls in a china shop.

When the check comes, Lando signs quickly then leans toward you conspiratorially. “Have I mentioned how incredibly normal this dinner has been? Just two totally regular people on a date without armed guards watching our every move.”

You have to smother your giggles behind your hand. “Oh yes, completely low-key. I forgot the agents were even here!”

As you exit the restaurant hand-in-hand, Lando murmurs under his breath, “Nothing to see here, just a guy and his girlfriend trailed by four gigantic men in black ...”

You dissolve into laughter, drawing confused looks from passersby. Lando grins and pulls you close. Invisible security or not, it was a perfect first official date. And as your convoy of not-so-covert agents escorts you safely home, he’s already planning many more to come.

***

A few months later, you join Lando at Circuit of the Americas in Austin for the United States Grand Prix. As you walk hand-in-hand through the paddock, Lando smiles and waves at the fans calling his name from behind the fences.

Up ahead, a large group of people round the corner. Their eyes light up when they see you both.

“Here we go,” Lando murmurs, dropping your hand to sign autographs and pose for selfies.

But as the group draws near, you realize they aren’t fans — it’s the Governor of Texas and his entourage.

“Y/N!” the Governor booms jovially, arms open wide. Behind him are several legislators, donors, and a gaggle of reporters. “What a wonderful surprise!”

He engulfs you in a bear hug before holding you at arm’s length. “Don’t you look lovely! How’s your father doing? I just spoke to him last week about the education bill.”

Lando stands by awkwardly as you’re enveloped into the group. You glance at him apologetically while greeting each person.

“Daddy’s doing well, thanks for asking! Keeping busy as always.”

“I’ll bet!” the Governor chuckles. He turns to holler at one of his aides. “Hey Jim, tell the White House we said hello to his beautiful daughter, would ya?”

The reporters surge forward eagerly, microphones extended. “Y/N, what brings you to Austin this weekend?”

You gesture to Lando. “I’m here supporting my boyfriend, Lando. He’s racing for McLaren.”

All eyes turn to Lando curiously. Flashing cameras make him squint. The Governor grabs his hand in an enthusiastic shake.

“Lando, eh? Good to meet you!” Without waiting for a response, he turns back to you. “Y/N, your father briefed me on the proposals to increase Pell Grant funding. Seems like an excellent plan ...”

As the Governor launches into policy discussion, Lando shifts awkwardly on his feet. You keep one eye on him while politely engaging with each person. More politicians approach to lobby you about your dad’s agenda.

“Your father’s infrastructure bill was brilliant!” One praises. “Make sure to tell him he’s got my full support.”

You smile. “I’ll let him know. I know he appreciates your vote.”

One donor pipes up excitedly. “I’ll be holding a high-dollar fundraiser next month in Dallas. Your attendance would mean so much ...”

You tactfully deflect, making no commitments. The reporters pepper you with questions about your studies at Georgetown and future political aspirations. You give diplomatic answers about focusing on the present while the Governor boasts of your potential.

“Y/N here is gonna be President herself one day!” He winks conspiratorially. “I’m calling it now, folks.”

Mercifully, an aide reminds the Governor he’s late for a meeting. As the group prepares to move on, he pumps your hand enthusiastically.

“It was fantastic to see you, Y/N. Tell your old man I said hello! Keep up the good work in school.” He spares a departing nod at Lando. “Nice meeting you, son.”

And with that, the entourage sweeps away. You let out a breath, turning to Lando. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t expect the Governor to be here.”

But Lando just stares after the departing politicians, looking slightly stunned. “I mean … I knew your dad was the President. But I guess it didn’t totally sink in until just now ...”

He runs a hand through his curls. “It’s like you’re royalty or something. Paparazzi, donors, governors … you’re a big deal, Y/N.”

You bite your lip. “Not by choice. I know the attention is weird, but I promise I’m still just me.” You take his hand, gazing at him earnestly. “None of those people determine our relationship. Only we do.”

Lando searches your face, then smiles. “You’re right. It’s just … surreal sometimes. But it doesn’t change how I feel or that I want to make this work.”

He squeezes your hand. You grin, feeling a rush of affection. Standing on tiptoe, you give him a lingering kiss. Around you, cameras flash as photographers snap the moment.

Lando chuckles as you break apart. “I’d better get used to that too, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” you laugh. Taking his arm, you continue through the paddock. “Now come on. Let’s go watch qualifying before more politicians ambush us!”

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as Lando crosses the finish line in first place, finally claiming his first ever Formula 1 victory. You’re jumping up and down in the McLaren garage, absolutely elated for your boyfriend.

In the frenzy of celebrations after the race, you and Lando manage to slip away from the crowds and teams back to his hotel suite to continue the festivities in private. As soon as the door shuts behind you, Lando whoops and sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around.

“I did it, baby! I finally did it!”

You grin, happiness bubbling up inside you. “I’m so proud of you! I knew this day would come.”

Setting you down, Lando crashes his lips to yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling like you might burst from joy.

Eventually you break apart, both flushed and beaming. Lando brushes his thumb over your cheek tenderly.

“I couldn’t have done this without your support, Y/N. You being here to share this means everything to me.”

You place your hand over his heart. “Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. I’ll always be your biggest fan.”

Lando’s eyes darken and he pulls you in for another searing kiss. Your heartbeat quickens as his hands trail down your back, fumbling for the zipper on your dress. Blindly you shuffle toward the bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind you.

Things are just starting to really heat up when suddenly the hotel room door bursts open. Your Secret Service detail comes pouring in, guns drawn.

“HANDS IN THE AIR!” An agent bellows. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Lando yelps, grabbing frantically for a sheet to cover you both. “She’s fine! We’re just … celebrating!”

The agents quickly assess the situation. Their leader clears his throat, lowering his weapon.

“Apologies for the intrusion. Your smart watch alerted us to an elevated heart rate indicating potential distress. We believed you were in danger.”

You close your eyes, mortified heat flooding your cheeks. “Oh my god. It’s fine, everything’s fine! You all can go now.”

The agents shuffle out, mumbling apologies. Lando collapses back on the bed, absolutely hysterical with laughter. You smack his shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder.

“It’s not funny!” You exclaim, covering your flaming face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lando gasps through his giggles. “It’s just — their faces! And then when they saw us ...” He dissolves into another fit.

Despite your embarrassment, his laughter proves contagious. Soon you’re both wiping away tears, sides aching.

Finally calming down, Lando strokes your hair back from your face affectionately. “Well, that’s one way to kill the mood.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “No kidding. We desperately need to tweak the sensitivity on this watch.”

“Maybe we could take it off temporarily?” Lando suggests with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. “I wish, but this watch has saved my life before. I can’t take it off.”

Lando’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? What happened?”

You absently toy with the watch on your wrist. “About two years ago I was out shopping and some guys tried to grab me. If I hadn’t been wearing this watch with its location tracker, my detail might not have found me in time.”

You shudder at the memory. Lando takes your hand, face filled with concern.

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

You offer a reassuring smile. “It worked out okay. So as annoying as it can be, it’s staying on 24/7 for my safety.”

Lando nods seriously. “Of course. I would never want to jeopardize your security just for some fun.” He kisses your temple. “I guess we’ll just have to get creative when it comes to celebrating in private from now on.”

You grin mischievously. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

***

“So Lando, I gotta ask — how are things going with Y/N?” Max Fewtrell asks with a smirk through the webcam.

You feel your cheeks flush from where you’re sitting on the couch off-camera as Lando grins sheepishly. “Things are going great, thanks for asking.”

The chat explodes with messages.

Is she there?

We want to meet her!

Max chuckles at the chat’s reaction. “Sounds like the fans want you to bring Y/N on stream, what do you think?”

Lando looks over at you. “I mean, if you’re up for it they’d love to meet you.”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy at the thought of going on Lando’s stream. But the encouraging look on his face gives you courage. “I guess I can say a quick hello,” you say, walking over.

As you enter the frame, Max suddenly starts blasting “Hail to the Chief,” causing you to jump.

“Oh my god Max, really?” You groan, though you can’t help but laugh.

“I had to!” Max cackles. “The First Daughter deserves a proper entrance.”

Lando playfully rolls his eyes and pulls you into his lap. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the memes.”

You smile, leaning into Lando as you glance at the rapidly moving chat. Most of the messages are incredibly positive — welcoming you and talking about what a cute couple you and Lando are.

“Hi everyone!” You say with a small wave. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you all.”

“She’s just a normal girl who happens to have the most powerful man in the world wrapped around her finger,” Lando jokes, kissing your temple.

You grin up at him then turn back to the webcam. “I guess our relationship can look pretty weird from the outside. But Lando makes me really happy, and I hope we have your support.”

The chat floods with heart emotes and messages gushing about young love.

Max smiles. “You two are adorable. But inquiring minds want to know — how did you meet?”

You and Lando share a knowing look. “Well...” he draws out. “We actually met in Miami during the Grand Prix last year.”

“Oooh an international romance!” Max teases.

You poke Lando playfully in the side. “What he’s leaving out is that we met at a club. I was there on a rare night out and he came over to ask me to dance.”

“Is that so?” Max grins.

“Hey now, no need for the details,” Lando says, tickling your sides as you squirm and laugh.

The chat is begging for the full story, so you decide to give it to them. “Okay, okay! So we danced all night and really hit it off. Then the next morning ...”

You trail off, trying not to giggle as Lando shakes his head. “Do we really need to tell them about the next morning?”

Yes! The chat unanimously agrees.

You pat Lando’s cheek. “It’s okay honey, I’ll protect you from the memes this time.”

Clearing your throat, you continue. “So the next morning, after a night of … fun, my secret service detail may have burst into Lando’s hotel room to bring me back home.”

Max bursts out laughing. “No way! Lando, you absolute madman.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Lando exclaims, though he’s laughing too. “How was I supposed to know who she was?”

Max snorts. “I mean, who doesn’t recognize America’s Sweetheart?”

Lando smirks. “I’m British! And I was a bit distracted by her other, uh, assets.”

“Lando!” You swat his chest playfully as he cracks up, the chat going crazy over his flirtatious teasing.

“Anyway,” you go on. “I had to explain to my security team that I was fine and we were just hanging out. But of course they still dragged both of us back to the White House so Lando could meet my father.”

Max is wheezing. “No way, they took you to meet the President after an one night stand?”

Lando covers his reddening face. “It was mortifying. I was stumbling around half asleep still in last night’s clothes, reeking of vodka and bad decisions.”

You kiss his cheek, patting his leg consolingly. “Aww babe, you did great. My dad said he admired your composure given the circumstances.”

Lando peeks out from behind his hands. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. “He could tell how much you cared about me and that you weren’t just fooling around. And obviously he was right, since here we are a year later and happier than ever.”

Lando smiles softly, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. “Yeah, here we are.”

The chat has switched to mostly heart eye and aww emojis, gushing about you two being relationship goals.

You turn back to the camera a bit bashfully. “So yeah, that’s the story of how we met. Not exactly a fairytale beginning but ...”

You trail off as Lando reaches out to tilt your chin towards him, looking into your eyes earnestly. “It was the start of my fairytale,” he says softly.

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in and kiss him tenderly. For a moment, it feels like you and Lando are the only two people in the world.

When you finally break apart, you rest your forehead against his. “You’re my fairytale too,” you whisper.

Lando’s eyes are full of love and wonder, as if he can’t believe how lucky he is to have found you.

“Awww!” Max interrupts your intimate moment. “You two are just too cute. The chat is loving this!”

You glance over to see the chat flooded with positive messages about your relationship. Smiling shyly, you take Lando’s hand and lace your fingers together.

“I’d say this turned out to be a pretty good stream, wouldn’t you?” Lando asks, grinning.

You laugh, giving his hand a squeeze. “Definitely one of your best.”

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sayruq · 1 month

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Last week, Politico reported that President Joe Biden would “consider” conditioning military aid to Israel if the country launches a large-scale invasion of Rafah, where more than a million Palestinians are sheltering. “It’s something he’s definitely thought about,” said one of the four anonymous US officials cited as a source. This was about as weak of a position as could be imagined: The President had definitely thought about maybe doing something. Still, even this proved too much. One day later, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan said the article was based on “uninformed speculation” by anonymous officials and that he wouldn’t be entertaining hypotheticals about how the US would respond to a major invasion of Rafah, which US officials have signaled they would accept in a more limited form. The dismissal was the latest indication of the administration’s almost complete unwillingness to even discuss imposing serious consequences on Israel for waging a war that has killed more than 30,000 people, most of whom were women and children. Instead, the administration has adopted a newfound feeling of impotence. As State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller put it last month, “The United States does not dictate to Israel what it must do, just as we don’t dictate to any country what it must do.” The absurdity of this position was made clear when a reporter interjected, “Unless you invade them.” Miller couldn’t help but laugh. It has been obvious for months that there are many things the Biden administration can do to restrain Israel and distance itself from a war that has been condemned throughout the world. The problem has not been a lack of options but a lack of political will. Daniel Levy, a former Israeli peace negotiator who is now the president of the US/Middle East Project, told me, “I think many of us who had very low expectations of the US and of Biden have had a rude awakening as to how much lower the actual performance has been [compared] to even the lowest of low expectations.”

As evidence of how important US backing has been for Israel, Levy cited veteran Israeli journalist Yoav Limor, who wrote in Hebrew earlier this month that without “Biden’s support, Israel would long ago have been forced to stop the fighting in Gaza due to a shortage of weapons, while at the same time it would have been forced to deal with United Nations Security Council resolutions (and possibly sanctions) against it.” Still, Levy thought it might take weeks or months of sustained US pressure to compel Israel to change course. In any case, Biden is under no obligation to provide thousands of bombs to a country whose leader has consistently ignored him as Israel wages a brutal war that has leveled much of Gaza and caused children to die of starvation. “We need to stick to our own values,” Ford said. “If our values say, ‘Starving children is way beyond the pale,’ then we need to react to that and take stern action, whether or not it changes Israeli policy.”

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #genocide joe #butcher biden #genocide #gaza genocide #imperialism

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leviismybby · 5 months

Text

The 104 cadets walking in on you and Levi (Yes this is set in season 4 and all of them are 18 or older!)

Eren

He was one of the few ones who knew that you and Levi were dating but it doesn't click in his mind that he should learn how to knock on the door. Eren had a question for Levi about his training schedule and decided it to go and ask him personally. You and Levi were busy at the moment, his body moved on top of yours under the blanket as your nails dug into his back. "Faster Levi!" You moaned and Levi did as you asked, thrusting into you faster. "Yeah? You like it rough don't-" "Captain sorry to disturb you sir but-" Eren stopped mid-sentence, his eyes going wide and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. "Yeager fuck off!" Levi was quick to pull the blanket over your bodies further, his cock still inside of you.

In panic, Eren started to apologize, he really didn't mean to interrupt you two and even though he was 18, it still made him extremely flustered as he understood what was going on under that blanket. "I am so sorry sir! I didn't mean to! I just had a question about the training schedule!" He turned around not wanting to make it more awkward, Levi rolls his eyes when he sees you trying to hold in your laugh. "Eren I told you to fuck off! Now get out and next time fucking knock." Eren nodded at Levi's words and quickly rushed out of the room. As he closed the door, he let out a breath. "Why didn't I see this when I kissed Historia's hand?"

Armin

Now, he doesn't make his presence known when he catches you two in the supply room. He wanted to try out the new gear Commander Hange made. His footsteps were quiet as he walked into the supply room, and then he stopped in his tracks as he saw your legs wrapped around Levi's body as the captain moved his hips. He just stood there frozen for a moment, neither you nor Levi noticed him as Levi was kissing you passionately while thrusting into you as you were prepared on a crate. Armin quickly and quietly exited the room and closed the door, he went pale for a few minutes. Hange walked down the hallway and saw him. "Armin? Did you try out the gear?" His blue eyes shifted to Commander Hange, he was only able to shake his head. "No, it's ugh..its....its.." He sutured, his face flushing red and he swallowed. "I didn't find it!" He quickly rushes past Hange leaving them wondering what was going on. Later that day when Armin saw you two he would just look away blushing, he had read about sexual intercourse and he knew that it was normal for a man and a woman but he still felt awkward and about catching his captain having sex with his girlfriend that made it worse for him. He never told anyone, not even Mikasa and Eren.

Mikasa

Let's just say....she didn't appreciate catching you two and almost just did not react while she caught you. You and Levi knew that it was risky whenever you two had sex in his office but Levi couldn't wait unit later so he just took you right there on his desk. His hands gripped your hips as he pounded into you, you gripped the desk, soft moans escaping your lips. Mikasa was carrying a box of the thunder spears she was told to deliver to Levi's office, she did knock on the door but given how "busy" you and Levi were, neither of you heard it so Mikasa to her horror walked in on you spread on Levi's desk while he was inside of you. As soon as Levi saw Mikasa he pulled your body into a sitting position so Mikasa didn't see much either of your bodies. "Forget to knock?" Levi says to which Mikasa replies. "I did." She says, her voice indifferent, she didn't really seem to care or at least that's what she wanted you to think. She turns around. "I have the box with thunder spears. I'll just leave it here." She leaves the box on the floor and then exits the office. "Fucking brats," Levi mutters, pulling out of you to go lock the door before returning to you on the desk. "She didn't seem fazed at all.." You chuckle as Levi lays you down on the desk again. "I don't fucking care, those brats need to learn privacy." He says and resumes his thrusts. Mikasa kept a poker face until she was down the hallway from Levi's office. She buries her face into her scarf, so that's how it looked when a man and a woman.... She blushes slightly, either way, she doesn't want to see that again.

Jean and Connie

Oh, this one was just chaotic, it happens when you were in Marley. Luckily both of them were a little drunk when they came across you and Levi having sex. You were in Levi's tent on top of him, Levi had his arms wrapped around your waist as you rode him. You throw your head back and Levi takes it as an innovation to kiss your neck and leave marks behind. That's when the flaps of the tent open and Levj quickly takes his jacket that was beside him to wrap it around you. Jean and Connie come stumbling in. "Captain! We have a question!" Connie says, it was clear as day that they were both drunk. "No I don't! You have a question." Jean says and then looks at you and Levi, his eyebrows raise. "Why is name on top of you, captain?" He asks, it took everything in Levi not to stand up and throw both idiots out of the tent but he couldn't move from the position. "Name was cold so I let her sit on my lap." "Aaah." Both Connie and Jean say, Levi saw that Connie was about to speak again so he he quickly spoke out in a commanding voice. "Out! Now!" Jean and Connie both got startled and quickly saluted. "Yes sir!" You look back to see the boys stumbling out of the tent, drunkenly talking nonsense. "That was lucky." you sigh and Levi takes your hips. "Yeah...now lets continue and hope those drunk idiots don't walk in again." The next morning Jean recalled what happened. "Connie...yesterday I swear we walked in on name and Captain Levi you know..." Connie looked at Jean. "That's just you being a pervert Jean, we were drunk out of our minds." But Jean could swear that he did see you two having sex. "No, name was sitting on top of the captain, what do you think two adults do? Cuddle? That's a weird position to cuddle." At that Connie frowned, his hangover killing him. "Jean, you were probably having a dream, now pass me that bucket..."

Sasha

Luckily for her, she didn't catch you and Levi in that position but she did come into Levi's office unannounced as you were on your knees...Levi quickly pushed your head under his table making you hit the edge, you let a quiet "ow" and then heard Sasha talk. "Sasha Brouse sir! I am here to collect the report Commander Hange needs!" Sasha spoke in a respectful tone, she hadn't noticed you yet and hopefully, she won't. You smirk and decide to tease Levi, you take him into your mouth again knowing that Sasha can't see you from the table. Levi clears his throat glaring at you for a second before looking at Sasha, trying to keep his voice normal. "I'll give them to Hange later. I am busy now, get out." He says, Sasha was about to speak when she noticed something under the desk, she just saw your boots but it clicked in her head and like Eren, she panicked. "Of course. You're busy. Sorry sir." She literally tan out of the room. Levi sighed and pulled your head up. "You minx." He said and you smirked before returning to pleasure him. Sasha ran down the corridor until she found Connie and Jean and pretty much told them on the spot. "I told you I wasn't imagining it, Connie!" Jean says as Connie bursts out laughing. From that day on they all learned not to bother you and Levi when you were alone.

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pathologicalreid · 3 months

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hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡

a father's daughter | S.R.

in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)

Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.

Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.

He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.

“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.

You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.

Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.

“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.

He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”

The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.

“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.

You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.

Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.

Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”

You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.

When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.

Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.

“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.

Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.

“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.

He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim’s name for the warehouse rental.

Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.

“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.

Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.

You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.

Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.

Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.

For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.

Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.

The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.

“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.

Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.

Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”

If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.

Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.

Yeah, that absolutely tracked.

The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.

Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.

You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.

“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”

You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.

Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.

Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.

Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.

His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.

Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.

“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.

Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.

“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.

He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #margot's asks #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds angst

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 3 months

Note

omg i understand its okay🥹🤍

then can i request a fic w lando where the reader is really down lately, not eating or sleeping and just like sad because she’s feeling rly nostalgic and theyre away from home and she’s like scared of growing up (even tho she’s like barely 21) and lando gets really concerned when he notices shes losing weight and sleep and stuff so he confronts her and she breaks down😔 sry if that made no sense again just smthn im going through because i keep listening to ribs by lorde

We Have A Life Together - LN

First of all, I hope you're ok. Please make sure you're taking care of yourself, if you're that young it's so important to know that you there's good and bad days for all of us. But never ever put selfceare as the last priority.

I am going to alter this slightly. I'm going to make her closer to Lando's age, if that's ok, just bc I have an idea that I feel like would work well for the fearing growing up idea.

Y/n loves nothing more than being there to support Lando, she wants to see him succeeding. But sometimes these things come at a cost for herself.

Y/n hasn't been sleeping or eating for what feels like weeks, maybe months now.

"Baby...are you coming with me or joining later?" Lando asks, waking her up from the depth of sleep as he kisses her shoulder, his hands either side of her body to keep himself held up over her.

"Later. I'm still tired." Y/n murmurs not opening her eyes and while she hears a sigh from the driver before he kisses her skin softly again.

"Ok, I'll see you later." He states while she tries not to grimace, though her face is pressed mostly into the pillow so he can't really see it. "Make sure you order something from room service. You missed breakfast."

Y/n knows it's a new low to pretend to sleep just so she can rot in bed but it's the only thing she has the energy to today. In the moment, she can't possibly think of anything worse than getting up and trying to look presentable.

When her alarm goes to let her know she's really pushing her luck to get showered, ready and to the paddock before Lando is actually out on the track. She finally peels herself out of the bed and drags herself to the bathroom.

She's began to lose the ability to recognise herself. The dark bags weighing her whole face down, she's exhausted. The lack of sleep is visibly and her face has hollowed out by the lack of appetite that's meant she's lost weight too, only adding to her woes.

It's only a matter of time before Lando breaks up with her. They might be getting older but the two of them are not nearing the point of "for better or worse" so he's got no obligation to stay with her while she stops taking care of herself.

After her best efforts to look more alive and less like a dead body walking. She finally leaves, getting a car to the paddock and making her way inside.

Her mind wanders, as it seems to a lot recently, leaving her bumping into a body and with her lack of eating means her ability to react quick enough to catch herself leaves her landing ungracefully on the ground.

"Ow." Y/n winces as the body she bumps into rushes to aid her getting up.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry." George states as he hooks his hands under her armpits and nearly throws her up onto her feet. "Oh bloody hell, sorry. You're lighter than I expected. Nearly caused more injury there. Are you alright?"

"No. No. I'm fine. It's my fault, I wasn't even looking where I was going." Y/n rambles shaking her head and noticing George frown at her. "Have you seen Lando? Just easier to ask than go looking and find he's not in the unit."

"I saw him doing some video content with Oscar. I think they're out on the track to be honest." George states then clearing his throat. "Are you sure you're alright? You hit the ground pretty hard."

Y/n thinks of the ache humming through her bones from the impact. Losing weight certainly means less cushioning for falls in clumsy moments.

"I'm good, certainly landed myself with worse injuries on a night out on the town." Y/n jokes managing to give the blonde brit a genuine smile. "I should go, I got here late. Needed extra sleep."

That seems to go unbelieved if George's expression is anything to go off of. Not that she's surprised, her attempts at covering up her exhaustion haven't done much to really improve anything.

"I'll see you guys later." Y/n smiles before she rushes off trying to locate her boyfriend. The last thing she really wants is to have to deal with other people, she was hoping to find him on his own. The marketing girls can get a little possessive over the McLaren drivers' attention being on anyone but them when they're trying to make content and Lando is...easily distracted by his girlfriend.

After about 10 minutes of looking, she manages to locate them.

They're doing some sort of race but as she appears she sees the marketing team deflate.

Lando is in the car with Oscar and when she walks over to the team, one particularly nasty girl looks her up and down.

"You look awful, when Lando said you'd be here late. I thought you might be actually making an effort when you come here." Katie comments making her sigh a little before deciding to remain quiet with young woman.

"Baby! There you are. I got your message but I was told off for being on my phone." Lando chuckles as he jumps out the car and moves to her, though he notices an injury both her and George really hadn't noticed. "Are you bleeding?"

His large hand grabs her wrist and shoves a scrap that she really hadn't noticed.

"Oh, uh...yeah. I bumped into George when I was on my way and fell over like an idiot." Y/n explains trying to be nonchalant as Lando inspects her injury. "Honestly, just wasn't looking where I was going."

"Guys, are we done?" Lando asks looking at the marketing team.

"Well we wanted to-"

"Sounds like a yes. I'm just taking y/n to the medical centre to clean her up." Lando states making the marketing team watch with strained smiles as they nod.

At one point they had tried to speak up to Lando about y/n disrupting content recording. So he told them that if they had something like that to say ever again then he'd be happy to tell them to fuck off, as he did on that occasion.

After she's cleaned up with instruction to be more careful Lando pulls her to his drivers' room.

"What did you get to eat?" Lando asks, already knowing the answer that she's about to give him.

"Oh uhh...I ended up not ordering. Figured I'd get something here." Y/n smiles always trying to appear happy and positive with her boyfriend especially when they're in the paddock and around his work.

"Baby, we need to talk." Lando states making her swallow thickly and look at him with a sigh. "What's going on?"

"What do you me?" Y/n questions with a small laugh and strained smile.

"Y/n, you're exhausted. You think I don't know you're not sleeping and not eating? I'm not blind. So can you please tell me why so I can help you however I need to so you are sleeping and eating again?"

Y/n knows that for Lando to call her out, it's his breaking-point. He doesn't like to talk about this sort of thing unless completely necessary.

"I'm scared." Y/n whispers knowing that to try and deny it would be a pointless effort.

"Scared of what?" Lando asks softly, almost fearing that it's him that's scaring her.

"It's just...everything is moving so quickly. You're 25 next year, and then I'm 25 after that and I miss home-god, I just I feel so homesick but then when I go home. I almost feel homesick with being away from you. I just feel like I'm getting left behind or being dragged along and I feel like such a burden to you. The anxiety is stopping me from sleeping and just the thought of food when it's in front of me makes me feel nauseous." Y/n starts crying harder and harder as she speaks and rambles.

"Ok, ok. Ok, let's just breathe and calm down." Lando soothes standing up and rushing to stand with her. "I've got you, just breathe with me."

His arms squeeze her as tightly as he feels like he can without making her heavy breathing worse.

Bjut eventually she's calmed down.

"Alright, baby. Do you know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think we need to get our families coming out to a few more races so you don't have to feel so homesick. We need to get more of your stuff over to our place in Monaco so you feel more at home. And you need to remember that...we are getting older but whenever I think of our future I think of...what ring I might get you...how you might look when I see you on the day of our wedding being walked down the aisle by your dad...how amazing you're going to look pregnant with any one of our kids...what we're going to speak the years after I retire doing because god we'll have so much time that you'll wish I would just leave you alone, but I won't. I can't imagine a future without you, but we have soooo much time before all of that. Well...most of it, maybe somethings will be coming sooner rather than later."

Y/n does finally smile in a way that he knows is her real genuine smile that isn't forced for anyone else's benefit.

"You're confident I'll be saying yes to a proposal."

"You can say that, but we both know I'm not wrong...look, it's ok to get in your head. But just tell me and I'll reassure you and let you know if it's worth being so neglectful towards yourself. Which for the record it's not. Especially when I am superhuman and can and will do anything and everything as a solution to whatever you're upset about, ok?"

"Ok."

"So does everything I said sound ok? Are you happy for us to figure this out all together?"

"Yes."

"Now, can we get you like three plates of food to eat. I'm going to sit with you and eat too, and make sure you eat everything I give you."

"Alright."

"Good. Well lets get moving because no better time like the present. Plus I'm hungry too." Lando smiles while moving to kiss her which she is more than accepting of before he manages to scoop her up. "Just in case you were planning on making a run for it. Or bumping into another driver who can apparently cause more damage than you realise."

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yandere-sins · 7 months

Text

Cupcake

Okay I will admit I've been soft-yandere yearning for a while now, but it's my birthday and I deserved them!! There’s nothing better than some self-indulgent fanfiction (;

Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Yandere!Ghost x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Punishments/Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, Emotional Distress

You didn't react to the sound of boots on concrete floor or the lock of the door clicking, hinges squeaking as someone entered the room.

Giving him attention was pointless.

You knew too little about him to get under his skin with words alone. Every bicker seemed to bounce off his broad chest with so much strength, it hit you right back in your face. You could never keep your arguments from sounding like childish complaints, and he chuckled at anything as direct as "I hate you!"

Instead, this man—"Ghost" you reckoned he called himself—seemed to bask in every minute of your putrid hatred. You could always assume the wisp of a smile beneath his mask, his eyes searching for yours no matter how much you glared at him. He possessed no inhibitions whatsoever, pushing, pulling, throwing you wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and not always gently mind you.

Yet, he pulled off his gloves before touching you, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks while he told you to stop crying now. That everything was okay and you shouldn't ruin your pretty face. He squeezed into the bed with you—the mattress too small for him alone, a coffin for both of you—shielding your body with his from the door so neither friend nor foe would see you first if they came inside.

Ghost made sure to top off your food with the ingredients you liked from his own plate when you were visibly upset. And on the nights when you were unconsolable, he pulled you on top of his chest despite the struggles, resting your head above his heart while he played with your hair or held your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It was hard to say what was going on in that man's head. His eyes spoke of wonders you couldn't see, but his punishments were so severe, so unforgiving as if you had personally harmed him in another life. You could be glad that you could still count ten fingers on your hands and ten toes on your feet, seeing how his mood shifted unpredictably at any moment you two were together.

So, it was best not to acknowledge him.

Even when everything inside you screamed profanities at this bastard, you tempered yourself with deep breaths. A deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth. Deep in, long out. Deep in, and a long breath out...

Zing.

The unique sound of a zippo reached your ear despite your meditation having been able to fade out his presence behind you. This sound was unexpected, new. Ghost and new impressions combined as well as fire and gasoline, so this was scary. You didn't know if he picked up a smoking habit or would burn you just from the sound alone.

You couldn't help the rather violent reaction to the fear that snapped your muscles tight. Jumping into action, you threw the blanket you had wrapped around yourself away, sliding into the farthest corner away from him. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you, time coming to a brief halt as you mustered the absolute unit of a man in front of you holding a... cupcake.

Blue wrapping, yellow icing, and a flickering candle on top.

Ghost snapped the zippo shut after he had waited out your reaction, his shoulders relaxing after he concluded you wouldn't do something stupid. You had just been surprised. He let the silver square sink into his right pocket while the small flame illuminated his mask in a warm yet even more spooky way than it always was.

"Happy Birthday," he said, tearing you out of your state of shock. Your gaze jumped from the mismatched-colored cupcake to his eyes that rested on you, full of that disgusting, heart-wrenching adoration he harbored for you. Things were calm, too calm. Ghost was too relaxed, only holding the cupcake and not a weapon or anything remotely dangerous in his other hand. You couldn't trust the peace. Couldn't rely on his words or the actions you were seeing.

"Wait, what?" it suddenly hit you, your eyes widening. "Is it... Is it really my birthday?"

Prying your eyes off your captor, you looked to your right, to the small table across from the bed where Ghost had hung up a calendar for you. He'd been crossing off days diligently for you since you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the task on some days, Ghost knowing that time seemed to pass you by in weird intervals without a window in your room. And he was right. Damn.

Taking another step toward you, you didn't cower away, letting your guard down as you breathed out heavily. That meant you had vanished from the face of the earth for months now. No one would come looking for you anymore; the hope of your survival and return would have been smashed. What a depressing thought on your birthday, your family and friends surely heartbroken about your absence, just like you were.

The bed creaked as Ghost sat down, his weight shifting the mattress in a way that made you aware of his closeness. You collected your legs, keeping them away from him to not give him any chance of quickly grabbing you. But when Ghost held out his hand, it was filled by the cupcake stretched towards you, and he handed it over without another word.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his and the pastry, but hesitantly, you picked it up, feeling the squishiness of it, a sweet smell drafting into your nose. The warmth of the ficker licked at your skin as you held the cupcake in front of you. So small yet so thoughtful. You thought a whole lot about this psycho, but to think he'd remember your birthday when not even you did? You couldn't even remember when you told him the date, much less expected him to prepare something for you.

Not like there was anyone else who'd care about it now.

Immediately, tears shot into your eyes as you realized you were truly alone. No one would come to save you, and nothing would change unless you could win against your captor. Even when he was with you, you were still alone. And even when you blew out the candle, wishing for these things to change, you knew the wish was wasted.

Sniffling, you bit into the cupcake, frosting getting stuck on your nose and lips, but you didn't care. Sugary sweet and buttery, the taste of homemade cupcakes like your mother would have made them coated your tongue and teeth, remaining there even when you swallowed, bitterness clogging your throat while the delicious treat produced enough serotonin to jump in joy.

You managed to devour half of it before the tears and stuffy nose caught up with you. Even your free hand couldn't wipe away all these emotions overrunning you. Fear, pain, hopelessness. The feeling of being stuck here and so, so alone. It needed two more hands, big, calloused, and warm, to gently hold your face between them, wiping relentlessly while hushing you softly.

"It's alright, darling," Ghost murmured, his voice invading your brain that couldn't detect all these phantom pains you were feeling but soothed them regardless. "I'm here. Everything will be okay, sweetheart."

It certainly wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it did the trick, keeping you from the panic attack that slowly built inside you. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took another bite, sniffling and with tears falling relentlessly still. But Ghost's hands never disappeared. Instead, his thumb began to wander, brushing off crumbs as you devoured the rest of your treat, leaving nothing of this kind gesture for him as you were unwilling to share what little happiness you had been given.

Crumpling up the paper around the blown-out candle, you threw the trash away, finally having both hands free to wipe your own face and get a grip on yourself, your vulnerable side having come out shamefully. But even when you pushed away his hands, Ghost's presence right next to you didn't vanish, his body now much closer than before.

"Happy Birthday," he said again, gripping your shoulders. You huffed lightly, feeling exhausted after your cry, but before you could react, the sudden feeling of lips against yours threw you off.

You hadn't even noticed him pulling up his mask to reveal his mouth, lips more greedy and desperate than ever finding yours. Teeth and tongue played and nibbled, not so gently asking for entrance, and you... gave up. You had no strength to resist. Play a game you were bound to lose anyway, Ghost always cheating. And immediately, feeling your surrender, his hands slid back to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could deepen the kiss.

It didn't help. Didn't soothe the aches in your heart and didn't make the tears stop, but the intrusion of his tongue and the sweet taste now coating it distracted your thoughts. Ghost seemed to try to tell you that no, you weren't alone. You'd never be. He'd always be with you like he swore up and down. He'd protect you, take care of you, and love you.

Kidnapping, locking you away, and forcing you to do what he wanted didn't exactly scream protection, care, and love to you. But an annoying, nagging voice started to speak up in the back of your mind. He wasn't wrong. As long as you had to endure this horrific living arrangement, he'd be with you. He didn't leave you alone, didn't forget your birthday. You doubted even that he spent a single moment of downtime without the thought of you on his mind, considering how obsessed he was.

It would never be enough to satisfy you, though.

There was no way he could ever mean enough to you to make you love him. You'd never forgive him, never submit to him fully, body and soul. But at least on that day, the day that grieved you so—a joyous occasion turned bittersweet by your suffering—you weren't alone. He was there with you. He cared. Did he care enough?

"You're not going to sing for me?" you asked him, half-joking, half-challenging.

Ghost mustered you for a long moment, then you heard him huff, amused. He shook his head before pulling you towards him. You allowed it, no strength left to struggle. "Only because it's your birthday," he reminded you, and you caught the corners of your mouth turning upwards before you reminded yourself not to be amused by his banter.

His heartbeat was calm and gentle, nothing like the things you knew he could do to you. Ghost turned you both over until he could climb into bed with you, laying you down on your side, facing him and not spooning you like usual. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around you, face nuzzled into his chest, it was warm and comforting. Safe—for now.

Happy Birthday to you.

You almost didn't want to believe him when he began to sing, keeping his voice low. Ghost never wanted to rourse the suspicion of anyone else that possibly lived next door to you. His gruff voice didn't really fit the upbeat song, even with his accent tingling on every word. This time, you couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, but you listened, regardless, while being held in his arms as if you were meant to be there.

Happy Birthday dear darling.

Wearily, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat mixing with his voice. The man you hated the most was holding you and singing to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if it was meant to be this way all along, almost making you forget the pain and suffering he had caused you in the past. But when he held you like a rare treasure, fulfilled your wishes, and went out of his way to care for you, you almost believed his version of love to be true. You almost started to believe the many times he said he was doing all of this for one reason only: "I love you."

Maybe he did.

Happy Birthday to you.

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gatheringbones · 1 year

Text

[“The barbers, on the other hand, were kind. They were prisoners, too, though they’d been trained as cosmetologists for their prison work. They could see my pain. They could feel my body tense, sense how anxious the whole thing made me. I’d freak out every time and start telling the barber that I didn’t want to do this, I couldn’t bear it again. They went slow, talking me through it very carefully. “I know,” they’d say gently. There was no judgment.

They’d get me talking about something else, anything else. Sometimes, they’d wash my hair, to make it feel more like a beauty appointment than a ritual shearing. And each of the barbers made sure, very carefully, that he left my hair at two inches every time—the longest length allowed. One barber asked if he could shape my eyebrows; he said he wanted the practice. And so from then on, he’d thread my brows into a feminine shape, a small thing that made me feel more like the person I knew I was. It touched me deeply.

I wasn’t the only trans person in our housing unit. In late 2013, the dining facility was closed for renovation, and we ate in the gym. Everything was temporarily socially scrambled, our usual table arrangements thrown into chaos. There was a break from territoriality, the usual de facto segregation. A person from the Latinx group sat down next to me and began to talk quietly about my transness. “I feel the same way,” they said. “I have these feelings, and I never got a chance to deal with them.” Not long after, they were transferred to a medium-security facility in Texas. (Texas was a jurisdiction where prisoners couldn’t legally change their names, which meant that a trans person couldn’t do what I’d done in Kansas.)

Most of the prisoners now called me by feminine pronouns and used my last name or called me Chelsea. Even the transphobes at least largely respected me. But there was one guy—white, blond hair, glasses, lanky—who’d been convicted for murdering civilians. He came into the dining facility one day not long after he’d arrived and began needling me about my gender. If this guy thought he was doing something original that was going to cause some kind of fresh pain, he was extremely incorrect. Being an out trans person had quickly thickened my skin. I was surrounded by people who say the meanest possible things to you, so you learn to be twice as hard, and twice as ready to rip someone apart. I went straight back at him. Look at you, you skinny-ass glasses-wearing little general. I wonder how many pencils you’ve broken today. He was momentarily stunned. Everyone else reacted. Oh, I hope you got a sterile dressing for that burn. He was mortified. He had been taken down by a trans girl, and nobody let him forget it.

The other inmates were supportive of my pursuit of gender reassignment, not necessarily because they believed deeply in trans rights, but because compelling the government to allow me to take hormones was fighting back against the prison. A victory for me would be a victory for all prisoners.”]

chelsea manning, from readme.txt

#chelsea manning #trans literature #currently reading

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unholyhelbig · 3 months

Note

request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?

Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).

[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.

Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.

Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.

The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.

“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”

The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.

You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.

It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.

Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.

“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”

“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”

Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.

From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.

“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”

She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.

The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.

This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.

The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.

A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.

Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.

You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.

The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.

He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”

“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”

He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.

You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.

Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.

He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.

God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.

The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.

The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re two months late on rent.”

“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”

You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.

“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”

“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”

Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.

With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.

“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.

“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”

He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.

“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”

“Employer? You work for that… monster?”

“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”

Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”

“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”

Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.

It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.

“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.

“Shit, baby, hit me again!”

He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.

It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.

You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.

You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”

“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”

You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.

“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”

By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.

She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.

“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.

“I don’t care”

“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”

Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.

Nothing Natasha did was innocent.

“What happened up there?” Kate asked.

The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.

When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”

“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”

“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”

You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.

“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”

“A history, or a… history?”

“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”

Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.

“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.

Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.

“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”

“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”

“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”

But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.

“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”

Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.

“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”

You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.

“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”

It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.

The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.

Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.

“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.

There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.

Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.

“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”

The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.

A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”

“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”

“Gross, no.”

Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.

“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”

“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”

She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”

The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.

“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”

You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.

Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”

“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”

That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.

Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.

“He laid his hands on you.”

“Yeah, Nat, he did.”

“He touched you.”

“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”

“Without permission.”

“He’ll never do it again.”

Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.

“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”

She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.

“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.

Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.

Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.

Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.

Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.

She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.

“Get in the car.”

“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”

“What?”

She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.

“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”

Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.

The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.

For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.

“Come on.”

There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.

Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.

There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.

She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”

You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”

“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.

“What the fuck!”

Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.

He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”

“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”

“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”

Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.

“You walked out on them.”

“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”

To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.

“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”

“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”

Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.

“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”

The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.

“See, the trick is making them think that you��re going to let them go.”

She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.

“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”

“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”

Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”

“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”

“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”

“Until they know it’s not one.”

It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.

“Nat,” You breathed.

“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”

You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.

You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.

Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”

You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.

As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”

You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.

“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”

“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”

“I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”

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f1byjessie · 3 months

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part three.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” You look down at the post. The photos, carefully taken a few nights ago while getting ready for a dinner gala you’d been brought along to as Sophia’s plus one, are pretty. She and you had scrolled and sorted and scrolled and sorted some more trying to pick the perfect ones, and then you’d written and rewritten the caption more times than you could count before finally settling on something vague but faintly implicit.

You study it for a moment longer, then look back up to your friend.

She smirks. “Trust me. It'll work. I got an ex-boyfriend to come crawling back begging for another chance by making him think I was already moving on.”

“It just seems… mean,” you murmur, frowning. You want Oscar to like you— you want it a lot— but you're not sure if this is the way you want to go about it. “Isn’t this just manipulating him?”

Sophia sighs and falls back onto the bed beside you. She gives you a look, gestures down to your phone, and then curls around your shoulder so she can peer down at the screen. “It’s not a soft launch. There’s no guy. The caption doesn’t mention anyone. If he gets the impression that you’re with someone else, then that’s on him.”

You trust her, of course, but this is Oscar. You’ve known him for years. He’s your brother’s best friend, and for the longest time, he was the closest thing you had to a best friend too. As twins, anything Logan did you tended to do with him— soccer, swimming, biking. You even had shared birthday parties growing up. Karting was the first real thing he’d done on his own, but even then you’d always been close by, and that meant you’d always been close by to Oscar too.

Like she can sense your continued hesitation, Sophia speaks up again. “If you post that, and he doesn’t react, then that’s that. You don’t have to do it again.”

“I just— I don’t know.” You worry your lip between your teeth. “I just don’t think it’s the type of thing that he’d go for. He’s, you know, polite like that, I guess? If he thought I was taken, or moving on, or something, then he’d respect that and wouldn’t bother me.”

The silence hangs in the room. She’s still leaning against you, one hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly and the other hugging you into her. When you stand, she lets you go easily, watching as you begin to pace the length of your bedroom, phone clenched tightly in your hands.

When you finally come to a halt in the corner farthest from the bed, you turn and meet her gaze shyly, “What if he stops ‘maybe’ having feelings for me because he thinks I'm taken? Or, what if he thinks I’m not interested and so he doesn’t ever bring it up?”

“Then you take one for the team and you tell him,” she shrugs. “Woman up and admit that the entire time you were out in that fancy dress of yours with those roses, you’d wished it was him who had gotten them for you and you’d wanted it to be him you were getting dressed up for.”

You look back down to your phone.

You’ve never done this before— boys, at least. The chase. Europe hadn’t been a very easy place to live— not with a schedule that made keeping friends virtually impossible, let alone a boyfriend. When you moved back to the United States, you were focused more on your career, prioritizing yourself over anything else.

You’d been single for so long that you hadn’t been in any hurry to change things, but now the lack of experience is making you nervous. Apart from movies and books and the borderline horror stories Sophia has told you about her own disastrous love life, you don’t know the first thing about dating.

“Y/N, is this about Oscar or something else?”

You look up, still biting at your lip. “What if we break up and I’ve ruined a friendship?”

Sophia raises an eyebrow, “Is he the kind of guy that would throw away a friendship because things didn’t work out?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem! I wanna say no, that he’d be totally fine and we would be able to pretend like nothing happened and go back to how we were before it all, but I can’t,” you cross the room and lower yourself onto the bed again. “Context matters too. What if it’s a really messy breakup and we can never look at each other the same? What if he does something so unforgivable that it ruins his friendship with my brother? Logan worked hard to make friends and this first season was rough for him. He’s the only American driver on the grid, and they weren’t exactly welcoming. But Oscar was there for him and I would never forgive myself if I did something to ruin that.”

“What could Oscar do that would be so unforgivable it would ruin a friendship?”

You fall back onto the mattress. “I don’t know that either! Realistically he wouldn’t do anything because that’s just who he is— he’s like the nicest most genuinely sweet guy I’ve ever met. But I’m not a fortune teller! I can’t look into the future and know that he won’t get tired of me and go find some other girl, or, I don’t know.”

You can feel tears burning at the back of your eyes and wipe at them harshly.

Sophia notices and lays down beside you, pulling you into her side again. She runs her fingers through your hair and lets you compose yourself a bit more before she speaks up again. When she does, it’s— “You’re so afraid of the worst-case scenario that you aren’t even letting yourself take the chance. Sometimes you just gotta leap before you look and believe that you’ll land on solid ground.”

“I hate when you get philosophical on me,” you murmur, a soft laugh slipping past your lips.

She sits back up and rolls her eyes, but there’s a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Puh-lease. As if you’d ever get anything done without my wizened words of advice.”

You sniffle and wipe the last remnants of tears from your eyes, then sit up with her and look back down at your phone. The unfinished post still stares back up at you.

“What if I just—” you delete the caption for the umpteenth time and let your fingers dance across the screen, “—say this instead?”

Sophia leans over your shoulder, reads the new caption, pauses, and purses her lips. She reads it again, hums, and then breaks out into a grin. An incredulous laugh slips out and she turns to you with shining eyes. “You’re a damn genius! I knew you were worried over nothing. You just gotta stop getting into your head so much.”

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 12,827 others

yourusername honey, i’m still free. take a chance on me.

view all 7,631 comments

user WHAT???

user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???

↳ user she’s literally saying she’s still free?? why would she say that if this is a soft launch?? 😭😭

logansargeant should’ve taken me with you 😒

↳ yourusername logie we both know you hate black tie events

user girl idk how you can do it i’d be spilling out of that dress with one wrong turn

user THE ROSES?? THE BABY’S BREATH?? I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS

landonorris slay girl queen boss

↳ yourusername lando… what…

↳ landonorris i’m in my supportive era 😌💅 you should try it sometime

user i NEED to know where that dress is from omg

user oh to be a young rich and beautiful socialite

user not to be delulu but there’s a surprising lack of op81 in these comments 👀

INSTAGRAM.

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 429,868 others

oscarpiastri it’s summer somewhere right?

view all 1,021 comments

landonorris hm this caption seems familiar 🤨 i wonder what it could be referencing 🤔

user GOOD LUCK IN 2024 OSCAR 🧡🧡🧡

user wishing this were me rn

user i’m too delulu for this rn 😭

↳ user i’m waiting for y/n to show up in these comments

↳ user did they have a fight or smth??? they haven’t commented on each other’s last few posts

user gosh that’s the dream rn

When you answer the unknown number, on your way back to your room with a tub of ice cream and a plan to eat away your disappointment at the failure of Sophia’s plan, the last thing you expect is to hear Lando Norris of all people on the other end. There’s no greeting, no introduction, just an immediate— “Yeah, so, I’m gonna need you to fill me in on the sitch.”

For a brief moment, all you can do is stand there in the hallway with your phone pressed to your ear, wondering if this is real. You’ve had maybe a few brief conversations with Lando throughout your various visits to the paddock across the season, and though he was very nice and polite, and all of your interactions were friendly, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. Certainly not “swap numbers and call one another” type of friends, either. Your most recent socializing has been strictly confined to the comment sections of Instagram posts.

“Hello? Y/N?”

You clear your throat, “Sorry. What?”

“The sitch? Situation? That’s an American slang word, I thought you knew that.” He says it so matter-of-factly. As if that’s the only thing you could be even remotely confused about in this whole interaction.

“No,” you answer, shaking your head as if it’ll somehow straighten out the spinning of your mind. “I know what the word means, Lando. I’m just wondering why you of all people are calling me right now? How’d you even get my number?”

You can hear music and voices on the other end of the line, muffled and distant, and then a door opens and closes and the extra noise is gone. Lando takes a deep breath and sighs, “If you must know, I got it from Alex, who got it from Lily, who got it from you. So, you know, transitive property means technically I got it from you, too.”

“I’m gonna choose to ignore how wrong all of that is,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continue down the hall and eventually slip into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you.

You do recall giving your number to Lily, and the two of you have shared a few messages since the end of the season— mostly typical check-ins and catching up with the happenings of your individual lives. Occasionally she sends you recipes she thinks you’d like, and you do the same. You knew she’d given it to Alex because she’d asked you first if that was okay, and all Alex had sent was a brief well-wishes when Williams had confirmed Logan’s re-signing, accompanied by a short message that Lily was looking forward to seeing you in the paddock again.

Ignoring all of that, however, you focus on the matter at hand. “Why are you calling? Isn’t it crazy late in Monaco right now?”

He hums. “I’m the slightest bit tipsy, but I cannot take it anymore. If I see one more caption with underlying subtext like this is a forbidden romance in a period drama I am going to, quite frankly, lose my mind. I need you to explain to me what in the fuck is going on between you and Oscar.”

You pause, and then you groan. “Oh my God.”

“Yes, ‘oh my God’ indeed. Now please explain.”

You heave a sigh, because you know he isn’t going to drop this, but you also know that if anyone could help you more than Sophia, it’s probably Lando. He’s Oscar’s teammate, and at the very least, if you can’t talk to Logan, you can talk to the only other person who probably knows him just as well.

“It’s a long story,” you mumble, curling up in your bed.

He makes a sound, like a scoff. “Okay? I have plenty of time.”

So you start from the beginning. Between spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream, you detail how it all started because of a message of condolence, how that had led to a rendezvous for drinks, and how that had led even further to him kissing you in the car as he’d dropped you off at your hotel.

He’s silent up until you mention that Oscar hadn’t acknowledged the kiss at all afterward, and then he makes an affronted noise and mutters something under his breath about stupid guys and heads in asses.

You admit that part of it was your own fault, that you hadn’t attempted to communicate either because you’d been afraid of the reaction and potentially the rejection, but that you’d been kicking yourself ever since for missing out on being able to talk face to face about things when you’d had the chance.

It all culminates in you explaining your current situation, and you tell him about your talk with Sophia and then your friend’s self-proclaimed mastermind plan, which had failed spectacularly when Oscar hadn’t even seen the post.

When you’re finished, there’s a moment of silence before he bursts into laughter.

You flush red in embarrassment and hug the tub of ice cream closer to your chest, feeling miserable and ashamed, but also like you deserve it all anyway. The tub isn’t freezing cold anymore, but the chill still seeps in through your shirt faintly, and it’s comforting against the heated blush.

“Sorry,” he says when his cackling has died down to chuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I actually do want to help. I genuinely can’t take one more post with a caption that’s all thinly veiled pining.”

You pause, fiddle with your spoon for a moment, and then hesitantly ask— “Do you know if he likes me?”

Lando goes quiet, and then he hums and admits that he doesn’t. “But,” he adds quickly, “just because I don’t have total confirmation doesn’t mean it isn’t basically obvious. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know Oscar.”

You sigh, “But how are you going to help? You can’t just ask.”

“I don’t need to,” he answers, like you’re crazy for thinking he’d do something like that. “I’ve got a plan.”

Great. You run a hand down your face and try to stay optimistic. Another plan.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry

━━ a/n: a bit more writing heavy this part, and a bit longer because of it, but i'm proud of how it turned out! we're finally getting somewhere, and now we've got lando joining the team. genuinely had so much fun writing him, so i'm excited to feature him in future parts!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris

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loveyourownsmiilee · 14 days

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I find it very interesting that Tim Minear told an interviewer that they are “basically laying down the train tracks on 911 while the train is still moving”. And then he further added that they’re still “in the middle of writing episodes 8-10” which are literally set to air next month. So what this tells me is that they are definitely waiting to gauge general audience reactions for the storylines they have leading up to the small hiatus. Because the hiatus gives them plenty of time to rewrite anything that might not be accepted positively or double down and perfect their initial ideas.

Now what I find a little suspicious is that Tim is a calculated person. We know that he called Oliver ahead of his current storyline and talked to him about what his plans were for Buck, which was his sexuality storyline. Now isn’t it strange how another person on the show, Ryan Guzman, seems so happy and keeps assuring in all his interviews that the writers take into consideration feedback from fans and are going to give us what we want? All the interviews he’s done with Oliver, just give off vibes that they both know something we don’t know. So why would Ryan be so confident in what the writers are writing when according to Tim, they still don’t have anything concrete written for the last three episodes of the season? Unless…unless Tim has also called up Ryan and expressed what his plans are for his character’s storyline for the season. Maybe it was even a joint call of some sort to let both Ryan and Oliver know that he perhaps has plans to get the ball rolling for bringing Buddie together romantically. And what way to do that is by dipping his toe in first with Buck’s storyline with Tommy to see how the general audience reacts to the possibility of Buck dating a man.

Meanwhile Tim has also shown how strong Buck and Eddie are as a family unit with Christopher in episode 7.01. So whatever happens in 7.05 before the hiatus, it’s likely to arise some questions for viewers. And while sifting through the comments and feedback, it’ll help Tim make up his mind on how to finish off this season. Which means it can very possibly end with a big confirmation that Buddie is happening come season 8.

I just think with Tim sharing so many Buddie stills to his personal Facebook page before the season even aired, choosing that specific Buckley Diaz family moment in 7.01, and confirming that they don’t have plans for Buddie “right now” doesn’t confirm it’s not happening. On the contrary, I think he’s literally waiting and watching how the public reacts before coming up with a concrete plan on when it is time to make it happen. Everything he’s done and said just seems so deliberate in my honest opinion.

And both Ryan and Oliver’s behavior also seem very deliberate and I can go on and on about that as well but I’ll just say they’re behaving very differently this season overall than any other season. I mean just look at how often Oliver shares Ryan on his stories. And how quickly Ryan shares 911 content and pictures taken by Oliver to his stories. This has never been the case between these two in all 6 years they’ve worked together. All that aside, choosing both of them to interview together, discuss their storylines and promote together was a definite choice made by whoever is in charge. So why those two specifically when it could’ve been any other 911 cast member? Peter and Angela had a three episode arc and we didn’t get a single joint interview together. We know JLH and Kenny have a big wedding storyline coming up and have yet to get a single joint interview with them. Aisha and Tracie have a storyline coming up about them adding to their family and we don’t have any interviews with them. But we also don’t have any interviews with just like Kenny and Aisha since they also play best friends on the show. Like all these decisions that were made ahead of this season are very suspicious to me especially when you consider literally everything else that’s been said by Tim and both Ryan and Oliver. So I guess take what you will with all this information but I’m just very suspicious about everything that’s going on.

#buddie #Tim Minear #oliver stark #ryan guzman #911 on abc #911 speculation #again this is all MY OPINION #I find it super interesting that Tim said all that and like how could it not be about buddie ?#I mean yessss it can be about anything else im sure of it #it’s not the Buddie show #but like this makes sense for it to be a bit about them

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lucid-loves · 2 months

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First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: Ghost travels to the small country of Stuoca to meet the person assigned to guard for the next month. When you lay your eyes on him, you can’t help but feel scared, yet also curious. He feels the same when encountering such a precious, fragile thing like you.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5

The porcelain teacup felt warm in your hands, holding your favorite blend of tea flavored to your preference. The grandfather clock in the room ticked by, filling the silence. While you normally liked to play some music to fill the space with sound, your parents told you that you must be quiet. That you had to sit pretty and be patient until you were allowed to do so.

You stared into your cup, slowly losing your appetite for teatime as the pit in your stomach grew bigger. You felt like there was something wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Normally, your parents were eager to show you off to any guest that was coming to the palace. Right now, it is different. You were locked away in one of the many palace studies. There was your butler with you who watched your worries grow. There were a couple of guards outside the closed doors, stopping anyone from entering unless the king or queen allowed it.

Looking out the arched window and overlooking the lush palace garden, you wished you could enjoy your teatime outside like you normally did. Feeling the fresh air, hearing the birds chirp in the distance, enjoying the subtle aroma of flowers flowing with the wind. It was really the only time you were allowed to be outside.

Even though you were a grown woman, your parents have always seen you as their little princess.

While you sat silently in the study, the king and queen of Stuoca was meeting the man that would guard you with his life. It was jarring being in a place like this. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was crafted with exquisite, polished stone. Anything made of wood was a rich cherry. On marble pedestals along the halls held works of art behind glass. Jewelry, crowns, busts. Golden chandeliers with crystals reflecting the light hung from the ceilings that were painted with angels.

Everything in the palace was worth billions upon billions of dollars. Standing in the middle of it all was Ghost, a man that once was just scraping by in his younger days. He still stood out like a sore thumb among it all. The skull balaclava secured over his head, tattoos revealed on his forearm, the black t-shirt that clung tight to his muscles. It was like death himself walked the bright palace halls.

“Pardon me, Lieutenant Ghost, but you don’t have to wear that mask here, do you?” The queen, your mother, nervously addressed from her red velvet seat. The mask was making her scared. That was how people normally reacted when they saw him for the first time.

“Yes I do, your majesty.” He curtly responded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Ghost was just as uncomfortable as your parents were. When he heard that he was being deployed to guard a princess, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. But now, here he was being served tea and cookies with the king and queen of Stuoca. As much as being on base was a pain in the ass at times, he missed it.

The king cleared his throat before taking another sip of tea from his teacup. When they reached out to the United States for a bodyguard, they weren’t expecting someone so. . . rough to be sent out. But, if this was the right man for the job, then so be it. As long as his princess was safe. “Thank you for traveling so far away from home in order to help us with our problem. Being a country so small, we weren’t even sure if your country would even bat an eye at us.”

Ghost shifted on the balls of his feet, growing more uncomfortable with the sudden gratitude. He just wanted to start the job already. The sooner he starts, the sooner he can end it. “You said that you’ve received threats. Anything else happened while I was busy traveling here?”

With a snap of the king’s fingers, a maid came over and presented an opened envelope. Ghost quirked a brow under his mask as he took it. Opening it revealed the original letter that was reported to Laswell. The one that he’s already seen with his 141 team. Handwritten, black ink, very articulated. The letter detailed how the royal family would burn down along with their palace. That the princess will be kidnapped and tortured if they didn’t get what they wanted, which was power to control the country.

Ghost sighed, feeling like he got the short end of the stick on this mission. The entire 141 was working on this case. However, Ghost was the one stuck with babysitting duty while the rest of the guys got to experience all of the action. They were off investigating while he was sitting on a velvet couch in the grandest office he has ever seen.

“That’s all we have for now to physically show you. The only other concern is the graffiti that has been popping up around the city.” The king explained calmly as a different maid brought over a manilla folder full of pictures. Pictures depicted a graffiti crow on various different buildings. They weren’t murals, but the symbols were prominent enough to be noticed.

“A crow is a symbol of misfortune and death. A bad omen, wouldn’t you agree?” The queen spoke up, taking a slow sip of her tea as she tried to read the lieutenant’s reaction. It was impossible to do so with his mask.

“Where is the princess right now?” He inquired. It seemed odd that you didn’t come in with your parents. He figured that they would want you right by their side at all times if they were really concerned about the threats.

The king and queen stood as if on a cue. The king gestured for Ghost to do the same. “Our daughter is in one of the studies waiting to meet you. For her sake, please refrain from bringing up the letter and graffiti. We don’t want to startle her more than what has already been done.”

Ghost gave a curt nod before following your parents to the study where you stayed. The way they spoke about you, you seemed more like a caged bird rather than their beloved daughter. It unsettled the lieutenant, but perhaps it was just the consequence of formality. They wouldn’t have reached out to the United States for help if they didn’t care after all.

Once they approached the door, the guards saluted and opened it up. Beyond the doors was the most ornate office Ghost has ever seen. Once his eyes settled on you, you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Every hair on your head was in place with the help of maids. There were no wrinkles in your dress and no stains in sight. Your makeup was light and only flattered your features. The gems on your necklace complimented your bright eyes. Ghost was almost at a loss for words. When you stood up and curtsied to greet them, he could feel his heart beat against his ribs.

“Good evening.” You simply greeted, your tone polite as ever as a princess should be.

“Sweetheart, this is going to be your personal bodyguard from now on. He’s going to keep you safe, no matter where you go. Isn’t that wonderful?” Your mother gave a sickly sweet smile, her efforts to meet the status quo seeming a little more forced as she interacted with you.

You definitely knew that something was wrong now. You may have been a confined princess, but you weren’t stupid. However, you decided to refrain from asking what the trouble was. It wasn’t appropriate. Not with your parents watching you.

For now, you focused on the news that you were now going to have a bodyguard. Your eyes shifted towards the large man. Muscles clearly defined under his shirt, posture straight and strong, mask hiding his identity. Compared to him, you were much smaller and much weaker. It intimidated you a bit. It made you hesitant to accept him. However, there were expectations to meet, regardless of how you truly felt.

“Princess Y/n. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You softly spoke as you gave another sweet curtsy towards him.

He quirked a brow. You were taking this awfully well. A part of him expected some more push-back. He honestly expected you to be a spoiled brat. Yet, here you were, taking everything in stride for now. You knew how to compose yourself better than he expected. “Lieutenant Ghost. I’ll be keeping you safe. For me to do that, there’s going to be some changes.”

You looked to your parents, looking for the explanation for this change. There was not even a bat of the eye as they faked their smiles. “You will still complete your studies as a princess should. Attend the parties as needed to keep up appearances as well.”

Ghost shook his head, authority taking over his baritone voice. “Negative. The princess will not be attending any more parties. Doing so could risk her safety.”

Something was definitely wrong. Your eyes widened at the news. A part of you, though, was celebrating. No more parties? Would your parents really accept this? The sudden shock on their faces morphed into strained smiles, telling you that they weren’t going to accept this so easily. The king cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, it is very important for the princess to still make appearances. It is essential for her.”

Ghost looked at you all of a sudden, wondering how you felt about this change compared to your parents’ obvious protest. You tried to remain unreadable, not wanting to set either party off with your personal opinion. If you had the choice, though, you would sacrifice the parties. They were more for your parents than they were for you anyway.

Ghost sighed in slight frustration. Normally, he was excellent at reading people. He did it all the time with new recruits, enemies, and his team. Their poker faces were nothing compared to yours. “One party if absolutely necessary. No longer than an hour. Just to keep up appearances.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back your disappointment. Well, at least you weren’t expected to be present during the entirety of your parents’ showing off. “Understood, Lieutenant Ghost.”

At least your parents seemed happier with the compromise. Your mother grinned brightly. “Wonderful! Give him the princess’s schedule!”

Your butler hurried over and gave Ghost your schedule. He nearly stumbled back with how packed it was. Piano lessons, dance lessons, tea times, dress fittings, and independent study went on and on for pages and pages. Did you have any time to yourself besides sleep?

“The show must go on! If you have any questions or procedures to discuss, don’t hesitate to reach out to us. We hope that you two get along well.” The queen concluded, eager to leave the room so that she could go on with her own daily life. The king followed close behind as they left the room, leaving you and your bodyguard to get to know each other.

You didn’t mind being civil, but you doubted that he would try to get to know you. He simply didn’t seem like the type to stray away from his responsibilities for anything. For now, you silently went back to your seat to finish up tea time. Ghost stood awkwardly for a moment before finding his own place to settle. Leaning against the stone wall, he examined you further.

The way you held your teacup was gentle. Your dress draped against your legs like a smooth waterfall. The way you looked out the window was melancholic. After a few minutes, you spoke up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Why are you my new bodyguard, Lieutenant Ghost?”

Ghost didn’t expect your question. He hardly even knew what you meant when you asked it. Still, he kept his cool as he dug further. It wasn’t like there was any malice in your tone. In fact, your tone was nothing but innocent. “What do you mean? Are you asking me why I took the job?”

You shook your head, staring into your teacup once again as you got a little shy. Lieutenant Ghost wouldn’t report your conversations to your parents, would he? But, you had to know. “Is my life in serious danger?”

Behind the mask, Ghost’s mouth was partially opened with shock. His body grew tense as he realized what was really going on. “They haven’t told you, have they?”

“My parents can be. . . protective. Their priority to maintain normalcy can cause them to make certain judgments in regards to my life.” You subtly worded, fearing that the guards outside were listening to what you were saying. Hopefully, Ghost would understand what you meant.

Thankfully, he did. Now more than before, you really did seem like a caged bird. You deserve the truth. “Your parents received a threatening letter from a terrorist organization. They seem to be after your life in order to manipulate your parents. I serve under Task Force 141 that specializes in missions like this. The rest of my team is investigating the organization while I am to protect you personally.”

Your grip around your teacup tightened slightly as you learned the truth. It seemed that your intuition was correct. This was a serious problem. You swallowed your new fears down hard before proceeding as normal. “Thank you for your honesty, Lieutenant.”

Ghost sympathized with you as he finally saw a shred of how you really felt about this entire situation. His perception of who he was protecting was completely wrong. You were no brat or clueless royalty with too much time and money on your precious princess hands. You were sharp. You were polite. You were obedient. It made him want to know the real you.

He knew that he shouldn’t get closer than what was necessary. Yet, the anxious look in your beautiful eyes as you stared out the window made him want to provide you with some comfort. Some way to break the ice while also doing his job. He opted for a simple conversation about your daily schedule. “What’s independent study for you?”

“It’s my time to study what I wish within reason. Any subject that I may find interesting as long as it is appropriate for a princess.” You delicately explained, putting everything as nice as possible.

All Ghost heard was that you were restricted from real knowledge. However, it wasn’t his place to make a comment on it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t find it fair. You were a princess and you obviously took your responsibilities, fair or not, seriously. He gave a simple hum in acknowledgment for the time being on that matter. “What are you studying?”

You looked at Ghost curiously, wondering how much of this was just workplace conversation and how much of this was genuine attempts at knowing you. The way Ghost looked at you with such resolute, cold eyes made you shiver. Something told you that this was his usual look. “I’m studying many things at the moment that would be proper for me to know.”

It seemed like subtle and vague answers were the only things he was going to get out of you, but he already picked up on the fact that you didn’t do this to be cold towards him. The tone you carried was careful. Gentle. You didn’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble. Simon knew what that was like.

The conversation was dropped for the time being. It seemed like your physical being wasn’t the only thing he had to protect. Your social reputation was at stake as well. Respecting that, he focused back on guarding you. Not without noticing every little thing about you though.

You stole glances at him every so often as well as you sipped your tea. The more you looked at him, the more he intrigued you. You’ve never had a guard that had his build. You’ve never even seen someone with tattoos in person before. He stood out against the pristine white around the palace. A shadow in the light. You were curious about what he looked like under the mask.

The rest of the night proceeded as normal save for your new shadow. You were ushered by your butler to your routine lessons, Ghost always close behind. He stayed silent throughout it all, but observant. You did feel like he was watching your every move. While you were used to being heavily monitored, having Ghost be the one observing you made you more nervous than normal. Music lessons, dance lessons, and studying didn’t go as smoothly as you made more mistakes under the pressure. For some reason, you wanted to impress him like you were one of his newest soldiers.

Ghost thought nothing of it as you did what you had to do. In reality, he found your abilities to be quite impressive, mistakes or not. He did chalk it up to him being an intimidating presence. Despite it, he could tell that you were skilled.

When bedtime rolled around, he followed into your room. A grand room with a king, white canopy bed, cherry-wood antique furniture, and large, arched windows leading to a balcony. The windows were the second problem that Ghost needed to address if he wanted to keep you safe. “You can’t sleep in here. It would be too easy to-”

Meeting your eyes made him pause. You waited patiently for him to finish as he was going to say, prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that the next change would be as smooth as possible. Looking at you, though, Ghost saw a pretty woman that he needed to be more gentle towards. Less explicit in language. You were already afraid for your life. He didn’t want to make that anxiety worse for you.

“Is there another room in the palace that has less open windows?” He asked cautiously, minding his words this time.

You appreciated his careful consideration, feeling more and more safe with him as he made decisions to protect you. “I believe there is. I can sleep there tonight.”

He followed you to another room in the palace that was away from any windows. He nearly sighed in relief as the new bedroom was windowless, smaller, and much more comfortable to be in. The bed was still massive and the antique furniture was polished, but the warmer palette of the decor made the room feel less like a museum display.

You felt better too as you looked around the cozy room. The windows in your usual bedroom just reminded you of what you couldn’t have. Though, your anxiety grew as you realized that Ghost was still within the room. Your cheeks grew a subtle pink as you chose your words with precision. “I would like to get ready for bed. Is it necessary for you to be here while I do?”

“Well. . .” Ghost thought carefully, trying to make the best decision here. After a few seconds, he determined that you needed your privacy. He was already invading it enough by being your personal bodyguard. With an accepting, silent nod, he stepped out of the room while you changed into pajamas. A few maid staff passed by, gawking at the lieutenant. A glare was enough to have them scurry on their way.

While you changed, you thought about Ghost. About his real personality, his job, his friends. What kind of work does he normally do? Has he ever killed someone? It certainly seemed like he’s gotten into his fair share of fights from the scars you have seen on his arms. Was he dreading this job? At times, you thought that you could see him get antsy while waiting for you. You probably wouldn’t like waiting on a princess either if you were in his shoes.

Once you were changed into your silky pajamas, you knocked on the door. “Lieutenant? I’m all dressed. You could come in now.”

Swiftly, he came in. For a second, he admired the way you looked in your pajamas. You looked so much more comfortable. The way you were letting down your hair in front of the vanity had him gulp too. “I won’t be watching you sleep all night. Just until you fall asleep, and then I’ll wait outside the door.”

“What about your sleep?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. The way his arms were crossed over his broad chest made you shrink within yourself a bit.

“I’m used to not sleeping. I don’t usually sleep well either. Don’t worry about me, princess.” He responded bluntly, putting some more personal distance between the two of you. He would be lying if your concern over his own time didn’t make him melt a little though.

“I see. My apologies, but I am unsure that I will be able to fall asleep quickly tonight. You might be waiting for a while.” You honestly admitted, feeling the anxious pit in your stomach begin to swallow you like a blackhole. You already felt enough like a burden to the maids and butlers with how strictly your parents had them wait on you.

Ghost shook his head, noticing how lightly you scrunch your brows in concern. How you nervously bit a tiny part of your bottom lip. Subtle behaviors that no one would notice if they weren’t truly paying attention. You were so different from what he was expecting when he was first told that he would be guarding a princess. “It’s fine. This is my job.”

You turned away from your reflection in the mirror to look at Ghost. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed how blue his eyes were. Such a deep, oceanic blue that held so many secrets. He stared right back at you, noticing how your worries couldn’t be quelled with just two simple sentences. Finally, he was able to read you.

“If it will help, you can talk to me until you fall asleep. Anything you want. I promise that I won’t tell the king and queen.” He offered, taking a seat on the Victorian-styled couch that was at the foot of the bed.

His offer came as a complete surprise to you. You didn’t expect him to be so kind. You have learned long ago that there was a difference between being civil and genuinely kind. Ghost was being nice, which felt like a rarity given his outward personality. Quickly, you finished getting ready for bed. Once you were cozy underneath the cotton covers, Ghost turned off the main light. The small lamp on your nightstand stayed on, allowing a comfortable dim to illuminate the otherwise dark room.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you tried to think about what to talk about. There was still a fear in you that he would tell your parents, but Ghost didn’t seem like the type to break his promises. Besides that, you never really talked about yourself before. No one has ever been interested in what you liked and disliked. Not that you had a lot of experiences with how your parents kept you in the palace and filtered what you could learn. However, that wasn’t to say that you were curious enough to find a way to learn anyways. At the very least, you had plenty of questions about the outside.

“For my independent study, I am focusing on classicism art. At least. . . that is what my parents think. I. . . I have been studying other things in secret. My handmaiden sneaks new books into the library for me sometimes if she can.” You confessed, feeling a weight of your chest as you admitted your truth. You didn’t like lying and sneaking around in secret. While you loved new knowledge, you still carried that weight with you.

Ghost listened carefully to your confession. His back was turned towards you, a comfortable thing for you since you weren’t keen on the idea of someone watching you fall asleep. It was enough for him to just sit at the foot of your bed.

“What new books have you read?” He inquired, wondering what sorts of books a princess could possibly want to read in secret.

You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks flush as you admitted more of your secrets. Without interruption, he let you speak. He listened to your voice that lowered into a pleasant whisper when you told him about all the books you were reading and wanted to read. A couple of times, he couldn’t help but crack a smirk at some of your opinions that were refreshingly assertive.

It didn’t take long for him to hear you start dozing. It started with quieter words morphing into sweet slurs. As soon as he heard your steady, deep breaths, he silently got up and left the room. Standing guard in front of the door, he contacted his team by phone to give an update.

“Lieutenant, how is she?” Captain Price cut to the chase, his voice low as he investigated matters on his side.

“She’s. . .” Ghost began before trailing off. He had to think about the right words to use.

“She's a spoiled rotten princess?” Another voice came through. The chuckle was no doubt Soap.

“Honestly, no. She’s a princess, but she’s anything but rotten.” He finally admitted, keeping his voice quiet since the halls seemed to echo.

There was another laugh before the captain cleared his throat, regaining authority. “I’m glad that she is much more pleasant to deal with than what was expected. Just be careful not to get too personal. I know you will be around each other a lot, but the mission is our priority.”

“Of course, Captain.” Ghost promised, wondering if this particular promise would be easy to keep or not.

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