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everythingne · 2 months

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out of the woods, 5 (ls2)

With clear favoritism boosting all of Ferrari's tactics, Dhanishka makes a difficult decision after a crash causes her to see the true colors of her team. Logan sweeps in to save the day.

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warnings/notes: mistreatment of Dhanishka by Ferrari, car accidents with very minor injuries, this chapter was originally twice the length.... i had to cut half of it for next chapter LMAO, wrote this instead of doing my finals !

(ch4) (ch6)

The little room they've shoved us all into for media is more crowded than I want it to be. The Chinese GP was off to a rocky start already, with downpour rains all day on Thursday. I'm looking for Charles, turned in on myself even in the room full of flashing lights as I try to hide from the world. I want nothing to do with media. I know its going to be a shit show, and my stomach churns and knots until I make eye contact with Logan across the room. A weird wave of calm hits me, before its also sprinkled with anixety.

We haven't spoke since he kicked me out.

I swallow my pride and smile at him, and though I note his smile isn't full, he does still return one. I can tell he senses my apprehension as he nods, and he excuses himself from Oscar and Alex's sides to cross the small, cramped room. I manage to slip through a wall of reporters surrounding Max, nearly being shoved aside before I'm grabbed and pulled and into the firm protective hold of Logan. Instinctively, his arm wraps tight around my waist as he brings me to his chest. My hands find his shoulders and slide across in a hug as he leans his head down to whisper,

"You look terrified, Isa." His hand squeezes my waist and leaves the skin tingly, as if he's shocked it with little electrodes hidden in his finger tips. All his lingering touches feel like that, they have since I was seventeen.

"I am." I say back to him as I pull back from the hug just enough for us to look at eachother, "It's first media day after we announced this whole... thing."

Logan nods and then sighs, bringing the hand thats not still clutching my waist up to comb through his hair, "This is probably the worst possible time to bring that up, but I'm sorry for just..."

He trails off and before he can finish, I shake my head softly and give him the tiniest reassuring smile I can muster. He quiets at the soft expression on my face as I bring one hand down from his shoulders to pat his forearm, before squeezing it as I speak,

"No, Logan. I should've told you from the beginning what I wanted. It was wrong of me to string you along like that," and I hesitate before adding, "I don't regret it, if you're scared about that, too."

He seems taken aback by my apology, but before we can say more, we're split apart by media duties. I try to turn back to say something when he grabs my wrist to pull me back to him and from Charles, who turns back with a confused look. Even I'm confused, before I'm laughing as Logan's planting a goodbye kiss on my cheek with a softy murmur of 'keeping up the look.' And no matter how hard I try, I can't find a logical defense for my blush.

So of course, Charles teases me about it, which is caught on nearly every camera in our direction as we're brought to the little media pen this time. Luckily out of the grabbing range of asshole reporters and the people who want a headline.

And the first reporter for me is luckily The Ophelia Piastri.

"Danny..!" She sings, handing me a microphone labeled 'VOGUE' as she steps in, ever so elegantly, next to me.

"Hi, Ophie." I smile, leaning in to give her a tight hug. Luckily during media I didn't have to wear my team uniform, so I had been dressed to the nines in the white and red Ferrari dress-jacket-thing, with the little cape thing on the back. I knew I looked good, which is why I assumed Ophelia had grabbed me before she went off to find Lewis.

"Since we last spoke, quite a bit has happened, but lets talk about this outfit?"

"So, this is Ferrari, of course. I cannot remember the name of the jacket for the life of me. It's a white leather trench coat with a red silk trim, Ferrari's black boots with, of course, the red trim, and a black Ferrari purse. I am completely Ferrari today."

"You look stunning, the red of the Ferrari suits has always looked good on your but this pop? Stunning, brilliant, we love to see it."

Her interview is a bit longer than I'm expecting, mostly because we keep getting off track, and then I'm pulled away and into the mass of the boring, normal interviews.

It's Sky News who comes to be annoying, some reporter I don’t recognize. I glance over to Logan, who is on my left side down a bit in the media pen and find him staring. He looks away quickly and I bite back a laugh as Charles knocks my shoulder with his to keep me paying attention. I miss the reporter introducing himself but don’t miss the way Charles tightens his grip on my wrist.

“Any specific reason you were spotted in London last weekend?” The man asks me, holding the microphone towards me and I shrug with a tiny smile.

“Just making some visits to my friends, is all. I also had some media responsibilities.” I reply calmly and catch Logan’s eye again, this time my look lingers long enough to see him try to mouth something to me before the reporter talking pulls me away again.

“A certain driver seems to have caught your eye, though, are we correct to assume there’s some heat between you and a certain Williams driver?” The man smiles almost predatory and Charles taps the back of my arm to signal me to move back as he eyes the reporter with a confused look. As I fall back, I let a soft laugh tumble out of my lips as I realize it’s fucking Anthony Davis and that’s why both Logan and Charles have stopped to watch.

“Thought my instagram post was pretty clear,” I chime once I find my footing and push my emotions back, “if that hallway stuff you released to press as blackmail against Logan to do that interview with you wasn’t already enough.”

Charles is staring like I’ve just cursed this man out, I think I can hear Lando laughing somewhere off to the side.

“We’re done with you, thanks sir, make sure to tell David I said hi.” I grin forcibly, watching as Anthony’s face grows in anger. Charles steps between us, asking Anthony to leave and I allow myself a reprieve here to look around. Logan gives me a little smile and an appreciative nod, which I return, before I’m being pulled away by PR.

Qualifying brings back Ferrari’s curse.

Charles tires go and he nearly crashes out right before the end and my back wing is broken by the time I’m done. With the challenges we faced, we both do qualify higher than expected which does make me feel a bit better.

After standing and talking about the car and strategy for way too long, I’m let loose to the solstice of my drivers room. The pristine and almost shockingly tidy room is a safe haven as most the chaos of this weekend and I allow myself to relax as I slowly get myself undone from the race.

I change and take my hair out of its now frizzy braid, taking the time to brush it as I stick my head under the sink faucet to wet my hair. I’m wringing it out as I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I call, grabbing a towel to place over my shoulders as the door pops open and I’m greeted with the soon to be Norris’ couple.

I gawk, “How did you both get in here?”

“Charles owed me a favor for all the times I’ve snuck him into Red Bull.” Olivia shrugs as she pops her purse down next to me on the couch, “and Lando doesn’t like me walking the paddocks by myself anymore.”

“That fucking reporter.”

“Don’t.” Olivia points at Lando, who huffs, and she then crosses the room to sit next to me on the couch before Lando can snag the seat. Olivia continues to speak after pausing to sip her drink, “good take down of Anthony today, little debutante."

“Ah. Thank you.” I laugh softly, brushing my hair with the same red brush, eyes glancing over to Lando and Olivia as I try to keep my blush to a minimum. Olivia's soft compliment made my heart skip, as any praise did. It was hard to come by it in this sport and I was honestly happy it was Olivia who was supporting me like this.

“How’re you feeling? You did pretty good for a busted car. I saw how fucked that rear wing was when I was pulling in the pits after Q1.” Lando continues the conversation and I shrug, turning at Olivia's cue so she can start to braid my hair for me. It's weirdly like having my mom or sister do it, I hate how much it makes me miss home.

“It sucks I’m not higher. Wallahi, I'm so tired of this." I complain, rolling my eyes back as I try and keep myself calm. Frustration wouldn't get me anywhere here, "they’ve been harping on me all season about getting back to the level I was at in Bahrain. And they're acting as if every race since, I haven’t had terrible car issues! Sorry you guys fucked up my car!"

"Sounds like Ferrari." Olivia hums, "I think I've heard both Charles and Carlos say this same thing over the years."

"Maybe talk to Charles about it, he'd know Ferrari better than I would." Lando suggests, watching his fiance as she finishes off my braid and then squeezes my shoulders and pulling me back to rest on her chest as she lazily wraps her arms around me. Lando kicking his legs up to rest on my lap as he yawns into the back of his hand.

"I have been, he's been a huge help, but it's still ridiculous." I complain, smushed against Olivia's Red Bull tee as I close my eyes to fight off the stress migraine forming. I complain for a bit longer, Olivia convincing me to talk to Charles about my frustrations once again. But by the time I've gone off to find him, I notice his attention being held by Fred and some of the engineers. Even when I try to get him away, he's continuously pulled back with soft sorry's thrown over his red clad shoulders.

I go to bed that night with a migraine. The next day I nearly crash twice when my tires are too worn but they won't box me, and sulk in my drivers room after due to losing my podium position. Sure, I finished a lucky P9 for my car issues... but I was fighting with Max in P2 when my rear tires decided they hated me.

I ask so many times to be boxed. It’s not the first time they refuse to pull me into the pits, but it’s the most dangerous. I have no grip, I have nothing but prayers and maybe a bit of luck because I don’t crash out.

And when Aakash is not supportive over the radio, maybe I lose my cool, and maybe that’s what causes half the garage to give me the cold shoulder as I get out of the car. I do what’s needed, barely speak, don’t smile, and then retreat to my room with the hope of my anger dissipating.

When my frustrations don't wear off, even after I snag the treadmill to sprint until my legs are jello, I go to try and find Charles for our little private post-race debrief. I need him in this moment like a fish needs water, the debriefs we have been having being the only thing keeping me from losing my mind in Ferrari. I spot him in the garage still, but he's being held captive by the team. They engross themselves in deep plans for his racing, smiling and waving hands in excitement. I notice no one had come to grab me and swallow the sick feeling in my gut.

"What about Dhanishka?" Charles asks, eyes flickering over to meet mine and I feel the pull to enter the conversation until Fred shakes his head and squeezes his golden boys shoulder, saying,

"Dhanishka comes second to you, Charles. You are more important than some girl. We'll use her to help you..."

Fred's voice fades out as I swallow hard, my hands shaking immediately in a mix of rage and embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid?

And when Charles snaps his head up to meet my eyes after a moment, I've already turned to rush down the hall. Tears prick in my eyes at my own stupidity, that I felt like I belonged in this red building. Sure, it was something off hand, maybe he didn't mean it the way he said it, but it was enough to frustrate me to tears.

If I cry one more time before the end of May, someone might get strangled.

I retire to my hotel room early that night. Even when all I wanna do it party, I choose not to join anyone in the festivities, and ignore the mass amounts of messages blowing up my phone asking why I'm not at the after party. I ignore the world, let the sun set into black skies as I stay tucked in my bed--still in my fireproofs. I can't bring myself to move, a mix of anxiety in my gut and genuine pain in my body keeping me in the plush blankets. My parents call to congratulate me, I humor them with a tired smile and blame it on the time zones. I pretend I'm asleep when I see Anya tries to call me twice. I can't lie to her.

I have to ignore her so they think I'm doing fine. I can't worry them about me turning into the monster I had been after Trident again. But that monster claws at the restraints and slowly breaks them.

Hours later, not that I would know the time, someone knocks at my door. I ignore it, even as the muffled voices call for me and ask if I'm alright. I just stay still, tucked up to my chin in blankets, until someone scans a card in the door and begins to let themselves in. I jump, preparing to throw my phone in defense, when it's Danny who pops his head in.

"Just checking to see if you're alive, mini-me." He smiles, opening the door a bit more so from my vantage on the bed, I can see Charles and Logan behind him. I know they all see I'm still wearing everything I had on at the track, and I see remorse in Charles' eyes when he sees my state, but I shake it off.

"I have a bad migraine, but I'm alive." I say, choosing for that to be the reason as to why I was laying in the dark. Not because I felt too tired to get up to turn the light on, or that I felt my seventeen year old rage returning.

"Need anything?" Logan asks, feather soft, before the others can. I hate how I can see him noticing all my soft lines turning hard. I just sit there, then I shrug when I realize they're expecting an answer.

"Just some sleep. I'll see you guys next race weekend." I wave them off, yawning into the back of my hand. Logan steps into the door frame, welcoming himself in. I don't argue as he crosses the room to sit on the edge of my bed, pressing his hand to my temple.

"You're not sick." He murmurs, "just a stress migraine this time, then?"

"You--huh?" I blink and Logan smiles party, a soft blush on his cheeks only illuminated by the light in the hallway.

"You always get migraines when you're stressed or when you've got a fever, Isa." He squeezes my wrist, watching my face carefully, "If you don't feel hot when you have a migraine, it's just stress."

“It’s just… it’s been a rough weekend and I kinda snapped after the race ‘cause this migraine won’t go away.” I lie half now, Logan seems to buy it a bit more as he leans forward and gently pulls some of my stray hairs back behind my ears—settling them how he knows I like it.

“You did really well for all the issues you were having. Can’t beat yourself up over something you can’t control, Danny.” Daniel says from the doorway where he and Charles lean, I squint when I look towards them in the light and see while Danny looks full of concern—Charles looks sick.

“I know. It’s just been a hard adjustment.” I shrug and Logan nods.

“Adjustings a bitch.” he says and I laugh. About twenty minutes later they leave, after Charles runs down to grab a Doordash they force me to order. Logan calls me much later, telling me to sleep so I don’t feel like shit tomorrow.

We talk on the phone for so long he ends up sleeping in the same bed as me, arm wrapped loosely around my waist as my head is tucked in the crook of his neck. It’s safe. It’s definitely not platonic, but it’s safe, and it’s what I need.

So far it's been:

Bahrain, P3,

Saudi, P5,

Australia, P8,

Japan, P4,

China, P7,

and now it's Miami, where I land a solid P10 after Carlos clearly attempts to knock me off the track entirely and runs me into the gravel. I have to fight for my way back up from P20. I'm impressed with the run some of the back drivers give me (especially Haas and Alpine) but I'm frustrated in general with my finish.

Because what could've been more is fucked over when Carlos in P9 swings purposefully wide and damages my front wing.

"It's not fair!" I complain to Charles as I pace the length of my tiny drivers room, "I don't know what he has against me!"

"Isa," Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Be proud of what you did accomplish, a wonderful ten place overtake in only seven or so laps! You did amazing tonight, even with that fuck up!"

"You've been podium every race except for Australia when Oscar beat you and Max." I snip, whipping around so hard my braid whacks the side of my face, "What I would do to be able to get up there... its just annoying some drivers have made it their agenda to get me off the track! Carlos has no reason to nearly knock me off the track multiple times today!"

"Carlos is frustrated Ferrari dropped him for you. He'll pretend to be amicable over at Mercedes but he's fucking miserable." Charles sighs, "Ferrari's been no help either, they've yet to pay him the rest of his contract."

"Well how is that my fault, Charles!" I ask, groaning softly as I bury my head in my hands and come to sit next to him. It's not like I had told Ferrari to pick me, it had been a huge surprise they had. Charles has no answer and I just huff and lean back into the couch's plush surface and hide my face.

"I'm miserable too." I complain into the air, and it's frustrating to admit it. Charles can tell I don't wanna talk about it, so he just pulls me to his side and lets me curl up there. I feel like a child, but I feel safe.

—

Miami proves to be more difficult than I expected.

I had qualified really well, starting in P4 with Max, Charles, and Lando ahead of me. I was holding my own during the race, but Ferrari wasn't clearing me to pass Charles to try and take P2. Which is honestly the least of my worries right now. Aakash has been non-exsistant on the radio today, barely answering as per usual. I was basically using my own strategy at this point, pulling off of tips I had been given by Charles for this track.

And everything is surprisingly going well.

“Woah!” I shout, turning clear of whoever is in the Alpine that’s stuck half off the gravel, I make some sort of contact but not enough to deter me, “Alpine is down on the track, hit him, I think front damage? Rear wing is still locked in DRS.”

“Understood. Possible red flag coming up, use these last seconds to try and secure position.” Aakash says into my headset and I reply back with a soft ‘copy’ as I go to turn normally but for some reason I find that I whip to the side—under steering hard. Luckily, by pure coincidence, it keeps Oscar behind me and secures a place in P3 behind Charles. But the car isn’t driveable in this state, extremely dangerous, and my hands shake as I struggle to press down my radio button while holding the wheel steady.

“My steering is going out!” I curse, trying to stabilize myself—waiting for a red flag or a safety or something. Where the fuck is this safety car for the crash?

“How bad is it?” Aakash asks and I grit my teeth as I pull into the next turn. I curse softly, breaking a bit harder than I need to but managing somehow to keep Oscar behind me. I think he knows to stay back, that something is clearly wrong,

“Terrible, terrible! I can’t fight like this!” I snap, groaning as we move now to a straightaway. Oscar comes to my left and I steer towards, Aakash is calling that the flag is flying and the safety car has been deployed, but my eyes are on Oscar as he tries to maneuver around the other side but I cut him off again—or try to.

I steer too hard, clipping the front of Oscar’s tire on the slick of the still drying Florida rain and spinning out. I feel the gravel as the car spins and then the world rocks when I hit the wall. I can't breathe for a moment, breath caught in my chest as I grip my seatbelts. No one calls over the radio for a moment, and then,

"Dhanishka, is the car okay?"

"Fuck you." Is my reply as I grab my restraints and slowly unclick them. It's agony to move as I take out my steering wheel and pop it on the top of the car, hoisting myself up and nearly buckling back down into the car in pure pain. I manage to get myself out by the time medics arrive, they take me to medical to get checked and it's like I'm not even worried about. No one from Ferrari comes to check on me.

I limp myself back to the paddock, guarded by McLaren employees and followed closely by Lando and Olivia--who is softly scolding the FIA in her phone. Her voice thick in frustration over Ferrari's dismissal of me, her hand on my lower back supporting me as I walk. Once they get me back to Ferrari, Olivia forces her way in to escort me to my drivers room.

And my migraine flares when Aakash knocks, entering my room. He's still got his headphones on, and I bite back about thirty insults as he crosses his arms.

"Feel better?"

"No." I huff, "and your precious car is fine."

"Listen, we're pushing you because we need you to be a better driver." The mechanic looks at me, arms taught over his chest and I wish it was still Ami in charge of my comms.

"I don't understand what you want from me!" I shout in frustration, my hand itching to throw my helmet across the room at him. I’m not violent, I never have been, I don’t understand why I’m so short of breath. It feels like the rage in my belly fights to be fed by all the oxygen in my lungs, my hands shaking as he slam my helmet down and punch the plush surface of my bedding.

“Dhanishka—“ Aakash tries and I whip around, pointing at him and watching his face fill with shock as I finally snap under the pressure of the weekend.

“No, listen to me! [You all love Charles, treat him like your golden child! He coughs and you all run to get medicine, but when I am out there and I am struggling and nearly dying, you do nothing! I fought with a broken wing and a fucked up steering wheel and what help did I get?!]” I snap at him in my mother tongue, watching his face fill with something like horror as I step even closer, “[None of you were there for me! You all went to coddle poor Charlie—he was fine! I was the one who suffered for you! Where is my help? You have all done this the whole season!]”

“[Charles was frustrated—]”

I cut Aakash off, screaming, “[And I nearly killed myself out there because none of you would help! Do you think I wasn’t also frustrated?!]”

“Listen, I—“

“Get the fuck out of my room! I’m not doing media! I’m going the fuck back to my hotel.” I snap and Aakash listens, quickly ducking out of the room. I rip off my suit and throw it in my bag and I get changed into my street clothing, only pausing to touch up my makeup. I pass by Charles coming back from podium with a cold shoulder and shove through the crowd to my car, digging out my keys and getting in. I sit there, hands tight on the wheel for a while, and my fingers start to go numb as I feel like my brain is shutting off and going into autopilot.

I just sit back and watch, like a movie goer, as the world around me fades in my mind.

I come back to my senses sharply, knees digging into the tile as I’m sitting on the floor in the bathroom. I can feel the remenants of a panic attack shaking off my limbs, leaving them staticky. My hands shaking at the slamming at the door to my hotel room.

“Isa!”

There’s only one man who calls me that.

I try to shout that I’m gonna let him in but the words are caught in my throat, and I hear him echo and think I’m going crazy as I whine into the bathroom air. Then I realize I’m clutching my phone tight enough to shatter the screen and Logan’s contact is up—blazing bright into my face.

“Lo…?” I wheeze and I hear him pause mid knock before he shuffles and—

“Isa?” He crackles into the phone screen and I nearly sob at the familiarity of his voice.

“I-Give me a second. I’m coming to the door.” I whisper, slowly raising to my feet and stumbling out into the hall as my senses fight to try and come back to me in full. My hands are numb when I un-deadbolt the door and I barely have enough time to step back after I pop the door open. In a flash, Logan is everything around me, tucking me against his chest, his hand carding through my hair, kicking the door shut behind us and sighing softly.

“Oh, Isa—“ He murmurs into my hair and I feel the numbness snap away in favor of tears as I bury into his grasp and sob. I have cried more since starting F1 than I have in my entire life.

“Oh, Isa, I’m so sorry they’ve turned you into me.” Logan presses his hands to either side of my face, lifting me back so I can look at him. I remember how a week ago I was afraid of loving him, how I was terrified I'd lose him, and yet here he was as stubborn and comforting as always.

"I can't do this Logan." I hiccup, letting him bring me into his arms once more, kisses trailing my forehead as he keeps me locked in tight, "I can't take another day of this comparing bullshit! They hate me, all of them in Ferrari. I don't even know if I still have Charles."

"Charles aactually spoke to me this morning about getting you out of Ferrari." Logan murmurs into my hair and I step back, wiping my face as I blink at him.

"What?"

"Ferrari is using you as a way to push Charles up and he hates it. He was seeing who is staying in what teams for next season. Alex might be moving, Williams might have an open seat, and I might've helped to convince them to write 'Dubey' on it." Logan wipes some tears I missed and smiles, kissing my forehead again and I lean into every soft touch of his, "Obviously, they still need to talk to you, but I can set up that meeting if you need help with that."

When I don't reply with words, but rather the quick press of my red lips to his, his eyes widen in shock and a giggle erupts from the back of my throat.

"Have I ever told you that you're amazing?" I whisper, watching blush peek on his cheeks as he wipes a few more tears from my splotchy face and grins.

"A few times, but I don't mind hearing it over and over again.” he grins.

f1 made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, anyadubey, logansargeant, and 697k others...

f1: hours after it was announced that @ scuderiaferrari is being investigated for mistreatment of @ dhanishkadubey, Dubey announced her departure from the team in the next season, citing 'differing opinions' as the reason for the split.

dhanishkadubey: love u tifosi thank u for an incredible rookie year so far <3

logansargeant: 👀

user1: run girl run

user2: that didn't take long.

charlesleclerc: je te souhaite le meilleur pour ton avenir, petite étoile xx

user3: WAIT?? IS SHE CONTRACTED FOR 2025 BC IT DOESNT SAY SHES LEAVING ENTIRELY??

user4: WHO IS TAKING MY POOKIE.

taglist (open, and thank you to those on it now!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 smau #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant imagine #ls2 fanfiction #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fic

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razorblade180 · 1 year

Text

Actor Au 5

Actor au 4 <-

Ruby:🎶Guess who’s back? Back again. *flips camera*

Adam:Not me! *thumbs up* Let’s get to filming! Wooo!

Crew:Wooooooo!

xxxxx

Ruby:Well look who it is, back at the food table.

Yang:*bites doughnut* It’s 5am on a beach. The sun is down and so is my body temperature.

Ruby:At least you don’t have to be near the water. Happy to be back?

Yang:Hell yeah. Let’s get this shit.

xxxx

Interviewer:How’s it feel to be back on screen after so long.

Ozpin:Pretty shocked if I’m being honest, but in a good way. I got so used to cozy pjs and being a voice. Roman walks over and goes “We’ll shoot your scene tomorrow.” I look around and go “pardon?” and he nods. Just goes “yeah you and your son shoot tomorrow.

Oscar:He’s downplaying his excitement.

Interview:Were you excited?

Oscar:I read what my scene was and had to double check if my contract had expired.

Ruby:Thought it was your last episode?

Oscar:Yes! You literally came up to me and said “ready for me to kill you?” Keep in mind, we don’t film everything in order. Luckily I finally got briefed.

Ruby:It felt appropriate because Ozpin looked at me with pure joy and and said “Finally I get to fight you.”

xxxxx

Director:Alright Neo, you’re just getting from the crash and you are seething. And… Action.

Neo:*stands up*….FUCK!

Director:Cut! Neo!!

Neo:I know! I know! *snickers* Could you imagine though?

xxxxxx

Weiss:*throws fake rock*

Another prop rock comes in off screen and misses her completely, hitting Blake.

Blake:Oh shi-

Weiss:…*turns around* Nora, how?

Nora:*covering face* I don’t know how I missed.

Blake:You curved ball a rubber rock. I’m not even hurt; only impressed.

xxxxx

Blake:I can’t believe it! The Rusted Knight, in person!

Jaune:You did well JNPR. *slowly lefts helm-

Helmet gets stuck.

Jaune:…*keeps helmet on, nods, walks away*

Ruby and Yang: *wheezing*

Blake:W-Wait! We..pfft..*drops to knees* tell us who you are hahaha.

Weiss:Did it snag the beard?

Jaune:A hundred percent!!

*Bloop!*

Jaune:*removes helmet*…..I just yanked out some beard hair I’m sorry. *eyes watering*

Coco: *off screen* Let me trim it down just a little!!!

xxxxx

Ruby:When they told this volume would have a focus on Ruby’s crumbling emotional state I was excited. I barely get to play with negative emotions often so I was ready! However, I was not prepared for Jaune to have to grow out his hair.

Jaune:Hahaha!

Ruby:Do you understand how hard it is to maintain sad vibes when in rehearsal this guy is walking around in a man bun!?

Interviewer:So the hair was all real?

Jaune:Yeah I originally got a call from Adam who asked if I knew anyone who could pull off an older version of myself. Instantly I went to my dad, however, I did not know at the time my character would be old for the majority of the volume. Love my dad, but he can’t fake act through a volume. Second best option was growing out my hair and hitting the gym.

Adam:We basically shot all of his scenes when he was young at once so long ago at this point. Then during vacation and all that in between volumes this man was obligated to not cut his hair as much as possible. My sister, Coco, did practical makeup to add age as well.

Jaune:Never again.

Interviewer:Fans like the look!

Jaune:Oh I get it. It’s the mainly the beard I wouldn’t want again. All the lights are fire scenes were soooo hot! I was dying!

xxxx

Blake:You named them after your team?

Jaune:No. I named them after everyone.

Everyone looks at where the paper pleaser would be.

Paper Pleaser:Hello. I am the one they call Jessica.

Ruby:Jessi- You met her once! Ya gotta let go!

Jaune:I can’t! 😢

xxxxx

Nora:Get a load of this. *turns camera*

Penny and Oscar:* sharing food*

Nora:They’re like magnets to each other I swear.

xxxxx

Blake:*sips coffee* Get this, today is the big day. The amazing crew has built a simple rope bridge only a couple feet off the ground. Yang is currently finding the courage to stand on it.

Yang:LISTEN! Rope bridges are scary!

Weiss:You aren’t actually high in the sky!

Yang:Rickety bridges strew me out.

Ruby:Should’ve confessed sooner.

Weiss:Imagine getting confessed to because that person is avoiding a fear? The instant they get on the bridge Yang folds.

Ruby:The true love was the solid ground we had along the way.

xxxxx

Interviewer: Let’s talk about the kiss! How’d that go?

Blake:*deflates* I have a complicated relationship with that scene for two reasons! One is you, Yang.

Yang:I may have tripped or had to fix my hair because the wind was aggressive! Your beef isn’t with me, it’s the weather!

Blake:She’s right. It came out perfectly, the shot. However, that’s a real sunset. It took so many days for the weather to be good enough! The two of us are trying to stay warm while look at each other lovingly.

Yang:Meanwhile she’s shooting daggers into my soul going “I’m begging you to get this right. I am cold.” Sometimes you sneezed.

Blake:I wanted to cry. Bright side, I got to kiss this lovely lady finally.

Yang:D’aaaww

Interviewer:Speaking of that, Yang, your character onset and yourself offset would probably have some interesting words to each other given…

A picture is pulled up on a screen that makes Blake laugh while Yang blush, giving an embarrassing smile. It’s a picture from her social media where she’s on Adam’s shoulders at the beach.

Yang:W-What can I say? I’m winning at life.

xxxxx

Pyrrha:*getting dressed* Hmm Hmm Hmm 🎶

Weiss:Someone is happy to be back.

Pyrrha:It’s pretty funny how every three volumes I come back to serve trauma and leave. Honestly make me the villain at this point.

Penny:Today is beat Ruby day. *thumbs up*

James: A glorious day indeed.

Ruby:Sometimes I feel like my friends and coworkers aren’t telling me something about themselves. Everyone is a little too enthusiastic.

Neo:*stretching*

Weiss:For those who don’t know, Neo over here does most of Ruby’s stunts, but now she’s pulling double duty again.

Neo:I love how there’s a narrative that my character is this brilliant fighter. In truth, most times I’m told to fight Ruby I let them know ahead of time one of us better be losing badly.

Ruby:I’ve gotten better at complex choreography!

Neo:And I’m very proud of you. *pats head* prepare to be tossed around like a rag doll.

xxxxx

Jaune:Ever wonder who’s doing the creepy motion capture for the Jabberwalker? *points left*

Tyrian:*in mo-cap suit* Greetings…

Jaune:Easily scarier than his normal clothes.

xxxxx

Jaune:*doing pull ups*

Weiss:*watching*

Yang:Hehe, what’s going on over here?

Weiss:I’m getting into character. I take my job very seriously.

xxxxx

[punderstorm scene]

Ruby:*walking*

Weiss:*sees Atlas*

Jaune: *looks into water*

Jessica slowly fades in.

Weiss:What the- *face palms*

Ruby:*laughing* When did you guys find the time!? Is she sneaking on set?

Jaune: *In character* I wonder how she’s doing these days?

xxxxx

Jessica:Nora snuck me in early to watch the setup process for résumé. Learned a lot about audio and video. More than I should.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #roman torchwick #proffessor ozpin #oscar pine #penny polendina #neo politan #rwby data farms #jessica cruz #actor au #adam taurus #coco adel

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avelera · 1 month

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Apologies for screaming into your askbox like this but

EVERYTHING YOU SAID ABOUT BENIOFF AND WEISS IS SO FUCKING TRUE AND I AM SO GLAD SOMEONE ELSE IS FINALLY SAYING SOMETHING

As someone who read the Game of Thrones books (probably younger than I should have...but that's beside the point) the sorts of things that the two Ds decided needed to be added for the sake of "realism" or "accuracy" was ALWAYS just an excuse to brutalize someone. Be it kids, be it women (though in GoT is was usually women) and so much of it was not in the books!!! Like, sure, the books have accrued a reputation for being brutal, and they totally are...but they never seem as gretuatus in the way that David and Dan seem to revel in the crualty. Utterly original characters are introduced for the express purpose of being killed or assaulted, and it makes watching Game of Thrones a harrowing experience.

I'm not surprised that this has continued in their other work, in so many ways, the bloodlust became their calling card. I am deeply thankful that most of the other places that had been courting them to make projects have dropped them.

I will say in defense of the no doubt huge team who worked on Three Body Problem that it's not a gore fest or anything. There was a lot I've enjoyed in eps 1-5 (which as far as I've gotten at the moment) and scenes of violence are hardly the only thing that happens (though umm... maybe be prepared for the opening scene. It's also a doozy.)

Anyway, as I see it, Benioff and Weiss's sadism is more like... Tarantino's foot fetish. It doesn't consume the entire story, but when Tarantino does a loving closeup of feet you're like, "Ah, there it is. I was wondering when that would show up." If B&W work on something, like it or not, they're going to mash the cruelty button and heighten the cruelty of canonical scenes (if it's an adaptation) in order to try to get a reaction out of the audience. It's just how they work. For some audiences, that might even be a feature, not a bug!

The thing that makes me so frothing at the mouth enraged about Benioff and Weiss is how fucking coquettish they are about their sadism. They always act so fucking surprised like they're shocked that anyone would think that the gore and the horror were the point and what drew them to the story (I know, I'm just repeating my post at this point but STILL--!).

Look, when I was a teen, I totally first started writing angst to sort of... express this vein of sadism in myself in a safe outlet like fiction. I wanted to make people cry with my writing. So I'd do things like just kill off all the characters and be so proud when a reader said they were sad after.

But that's just... really flat and amateurish angst, y'know? There are so many more sophisticated and meaningful ways to create emotion, including sadness, in an audience other than just killing off all the characters or torturing them.

But I feel I remember enough from those days (I'd like to think I've long since grown out of that impulse) to know a sadist when I see one? And Benioff and Weiss's storytelling, to my eyes again, is simply sadistic. It glories in watching people in pain and it finds ways to exaggerate that pain and the chance to exaggerate moments of pain is what draws them to the stories they like to depict.

And that's fine. Plenty of horror creators revel in gore and cruelty and it's an entirely worthy art form!

But for the most part, those horror creators know what they're doing and they're open or even joyful about the fun they have creating these horror stories! Enjoying creating horror stories or depicting suffering or even being sadistic, particularly in fiction where no one is actually getting hurt, is perfectly fine.

I just fuckin... wish Benioff and Weiss would admit that's what it is goddamn it makes me INSANE.

#benioff and weiss #game of thrones #netflix three body problem

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sunderlust · 2 years

Text

this is me trying ii (rooster x reader)

masterlist part 1 | part 2 | part 3 pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader synopsis: bradley bradshaw is the bane of your existence on north island - you finally got a chance to tell him off for giving you a hard time, but the guilt is weighing down on you and making it harder for you to deal with your ongoing existential crisis. maybe all it takes is a volleyball game and a heart to heart to make you see clearly... (read p1 first i'm begging you) warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, volleyball shenanigans, hiking, hangman no use of y/n, one small mention of suicidal thoughts near the very end note: seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse - i love u both forever i dedicate everything to you both. also full disclaimer I don't know anything about volleyball or the sunset cliffs hiking trail lol. wc: 9k (holy fucking shit sorry y'all I just may'd)

The first thing you feel Thursday night is relief - ever since you moved to this stupid city, the weight of holding back all your anger and annoyance with Bradley had returned in full force. After your fight with him, you feel a fifty-ton weight lift from your shoulders; you can breathe for the first time in two weeks.

“I told Bradley off,” you tell Cam and Cher casually after dinner. They both share a weird look, waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s been giving me a hard time at Java. Coming in with ridiculous orders and mocking me and tipping large amounts just to make fun of me. And he thinks he can tell me it’s just teasing between friends?! Since when were we friends?”

On Friday morning, when 6:30 rolls around with Bradley being a no-show, you feel unease settle over you. It’s minuscule - it feels like you’re carrying an obese cat on your shoulders - but it’s noticeable. And as the day goes on, you start to mull over yesterday’s debacle, wondering if you were a little too harsh.

You waste your weekend thinking about it more, replaying your words, recalling every single detail. Each time you restart the memory, your stomach sinks lower when you see Bradley’s crestfallen and shocked expression. The obese cat grows bigger, and your anxiety makes you feel smaller.

On Sunday night, you groan and collapse on the loveseat in Cam’s living room with a languid sigh. Cher’s lounging on the L-shaped couch reading on her iPad, while Cam’s puttering around in the kitchen.

“I don’t know how much more water I can tread, guys.” you groan and bury your face into a soft velvet throw pillow.

“Can I be frank with you?” Cher asks, switching her tablet off and setting it aside.

“Always,” you nod as best as you can, voice muffled by the fabric.

“You need another outlet.”

You lift your head from the velvet. “What kind of outlet can I find on this stupid island? No offense,” you add. “I thought I could get by doing nothing, but I finished all of the Stranger Kids show and a bunch of Academy Award winners that I’ve missed and I almost got sucked into something called Bridgerton-”

“You need a physical outlet,” Cher interrupts, smiling comfortingly.

You sigh again. “Years at a desk job have completely wrecked my ankles too much for me to go on long morning jogs again. Like, if I did a deep squat right now, my heels are going to lift so high I’ll tip over like a fucking cow. And I know you told me to do yoga with Cam, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday - I need to sleep in on the weekends.”

Cam comes in and plops themself down in their favorite armchair facing the TV. “I wasn’t going to suggest yoga again. But my friend Natasha from class asked if I knew anyone who played volleyball, and you were the first person to come to mind. They’re playing tomorrow evening.”

You gape at them. “I haven’t played in years. I think the last time I touched a volleyball was at a company team retreat a few years back, and I was just a spectator tossing it back to the cutie from the web team.”

“The cutie from GUI,” Cher dreamily breathes out, laughing as she dodges the throw pillow you launch at her face.

“Come on!” Cam implores. “You were great at intramural volleyball back in undergrad! And it’s just casual, they need someone to even out the teams so no one sits out. They’ll buy you drinks afterward - guaranteed.”

You mull over the idea in your mind. Who in their sound mind would NOT want to meet a bunch of strangers and fumble through a sport they haven’t played in years?

Although, you would love to be able to get out of the house and into the sunshine again without feeling the overwhelming anxiety of doing things on your own. A week ago, you’d bookmarked the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park over on Point Loma, west of North Island. But hiking on your own felt too intimidating, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Cher and Cam to join.

Maybe this was another saving grace - another opportunity falling into your lap to do something new and push yourself out of your comfort zone. A chance to do something meaningful, to make friends outside of Cam and Cher so you could stop mooching off of them and draining their energy. Because as much as you knew they loved you and were happy to host you, there was still that small part of you that insisted they were counting down the days for you to leave.

Worst case? You fumble the ball and never have to see these people again. Best case? Maybe you make some friends, burn some energy, and potentially google hot people on the beach, bumping and setting the ball in slow motion like they’re on Baywatch.

Yeah, that last point is rather convincing.

“Alright,” you sigh. “If anything, I’ll spike the ball and pretend it’s Bradshaw’s face.”

Cam and Cher share another weird look.

At 6 PM, you pull into the parking lot for the Hard Deck and immediately spot a gaggle of tall, muscled guys setting up the sand volleyball court boundaries out on the beach. The light of the late afternoon sun glistens off their tanned skin and sends your nerves into a frenzy; you don’t know how you’ll be able to play a casual game of volleyball with the likes of these people.

“Hey! Cam’s friend, right? It’s so great to meet you!” Natasha calls out as you approach her and her SUV. She immediately goes in for a hug, which makes you feel both giddy and incredibly shy as you return it - it feels like it’s been a while since you’ve tried to make a new friend.

“Hi, Natasha, it’s so nice to meet you! Thanks for inviting me, it’s so nice to do something other than Netflix and chill with myself in the evening,” you cringe at yourself. Why the fuck did you say that to another person?

But Natasha shakes her head with a huge, understanding smile. “It’s no biggie - we’ve all just been playing pool over at the Hard Deck and Bob suggested maybe we get some sunlight for once. It’ll be great to work off some tension after work - sorry in advance if anyone’s particularly intense here,” she laughs.

“Oh, what do you all do?” you ask, eyeing one tall, dark-skinned man and how his muscles ripple as he handles a volleyball between two large palms.

“We’re Navy - all of us are pilots,” Natasha says.

Your stomach plummets. Oh fuck. If these guys are all coworkers AND in the Navy AND pilots - well, you didn’t need your stupid engineering degree to do the math. There’s a high probability that someone’s about to make his presence known-

“Yo, Phoenix!” a husky, familiar voice calls out behind you. “Yale said he wouldn’t be able to make it, so we’ll probably have to...” his voice trails off as he recognizes you.

You pause, meeting his gaze through your sunglasses. “Hi, Bradley,” you say, deciding to at least be the bigger person and not outright ignore him.

He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, nodding once your way before redirecting his attention back to Phoenix. “I guess we’re even on teams then. I’ll go help set things up.”

You feel a twinge of something in your chest - almost feeling hurt that he was still so upset with you. But you dismiss it as quickly as it came - you have nothing to feel bad about and apparently, neither does Bradley as he jogs away towards the group around the newly set up court. Natasha looks on with a curious expression before picking up an extra volleyball and leading you to where the rest of the group is.

Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He’s off to the side, tossing a volleyball between both his hands idly and conversing with a man in glasses.

A taller, dark-skinned man approaches the two of you with a broad smile, giving Natasha a high five and you a friendly nod. She’s still explaining the game setup to you. “We’ll have two teams of five, we might switch things around here and there and we might be dicks to each other, but I promise we’ll keep you out of the line of fire. Just look the other way if I start acting like a sore loser.”

“Natasha, I’m not sure if Cam’s mentioned, but my competitiveness in IM volleyball got me ejected from a game after I slammed the ball into another guy’s face. No worries.”

She and the other man laugh, and he reaches a hand out to shake yours. You introduce yourself to him, and he does the same. “Reuben - but call me Payback. And I’m not sure if she’s mentioned, but she goes by Phoenix.”

You’re confused. “Phoenix?”

“It’s her callsign,” he replies as if that explains everything.

“Callsign?” you repeat, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, it’s like a unique identifier for each of us. We get it assigned to us by our class, usually when we do something stupid in boot camp,” Nat- or, Phoenix explains to you.

“Can’t I just call you all by your real name? Instead of nicknames?”

“Callsigns,” Payback corrects. “And honestly, you could. But it’ll catch us off guard. I mean, if you called out ‘Reuben’ mid-game, I’d probably book it to the ocean because my gut instinct will be telling me that my ex has finally tracked me down to get back the NSYNC CD I stole from her.”

“Poor girl,” you muse, and he laughs.

“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll have everyone’s sign down in no time! We’ll only be using those so you’ll get confused if you don’t know them.”

He and Phoenix walk you over to a tall, blond Adonis. Like the others, he’s shirtless, tanned, and muscled. You wonder if he could crack walnuts with his biceps. “This is Jake, or ‘Bagman’-”

“Hangman,” the Ken doll says, rubbing the stubble along his jawline which is tightly clenched as he surveys the game being set up. He looks over at you briefly to nod once. “Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t mind him,” Phoenix tells you with an eye roll. “He’s hung up on his girl, but she’s not talking to him.”

You nod, only half paying attention now that you’ve caught sight of Bradley making his way over to your gaggle of three. You can’t read his expression thanks to the trusty Ray Bans he’s wearing, but his strut is as cocky as ever.

“Hangman has a girl?” Payback asks just as Bradley reaches earshot.

“Oh yeah, Penny’s tutor friend? Hangman spilled a mojito on her after Dogfight the other day. Poor girl looked terrified.” Bradley teases and smacks Hangman on the back. The others laugh along at a stoic-faced Hangman whose cheeks have slightly flushed.

“You pilots really seem to have a knack for tormenting innocent women,” you blurt out, narrowing your eyes at the three boys. Bradley’s eyebrows furrow right back.

“Guess we do,” he says shortly.

Phoenix shifts her eyes between the two of you before clearing her throat. “This is Bradley - I suppose you already know. We call him Rooster.”

“Rooster? That’s your callsign?” you ask, incredulously.

“Yeah! Because he looks out for his own,” Payback says in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. He couples his words with a sharp pinch to Bradley’s cheek, and he abruptly smacks Payback’s hands away.

At long last, Hangman breaks his silence with a loud bark of laughter. “Hold on, do you two know each other?” Hangman asks, a grin replacing his scowl. “Why so tense, Bradshaw? Did she give you the slip in the wee hours of the morning?”

“Shut up,” Rooster threatens at the same time that you say, “We were at UVA together.”

You blink, feeling slightly hurt for a second before realizing he definitely wouldn’t care enough to tell his Navy buddies about his old college friend who hypothetically got dropped from her hotshot engineering job and was now in Fightertown. You try your best to swallow the lump that still appears in your throat.

A beat of silence follows. “Apparently, we’re arch nemeses,” Bradley says bitterly, and you’re pretty sure you catch him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses.

You narrow your eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh, Bradley?”

“Me? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who said it! This is some real pot-meet-kettle crap, Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?” Phoenix deadpans, looking at you sympathetically. You beat Bradley to answer.

“It’s a stupid joke he’s kept going for fifteen years because Bradley’s quite skilled at never letting things go!” you spit out.

“Oh, don’t we know it?” Hangman says under his breath before Bradley can retort, then swiftly catches a volleyball from someone over by the court. He crooks one finger in your direction. “We’ll have to call you Buttercup - both because it might piss off Rooster over here, and because I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jake,” Bradley says warningly, but Hangman’s jogged away before he can get another word out.

Stupid Rooster. And even stupider Hangman.

Volleyball starts easy enough once you’re introduced to the rest of the team. Phoenix keeps you on her team along with Fanboy, an intimidatingly handsome man who goes by Coyote, and a really sweet, round-faced man wearing glasses named Bob. Bradley sticks to the other side, trying hard not to look annoyed with Hangman ordering his teammates around.

“So you’re Bradley’s friend? Ow!” Coyote starts to ask, but Phoenix cuts him off by elbowing him in the side.

“No, she’s my friend. I met her through someone from yoga.” She gives him a hard look. “That’s right, I know people outside of you creeps.”

Coyote furrows his brow. “When do you have the time to go to yoga? And do they have any open spots? Preferably a mat right behind you, Phoe- Jesus!” Coyote rubs the back of his head where Bob’s initial practice serve had landed.

“Sorry!” he calls out, but you can see the curve of a smile on his face as he turns away from Coyote’s glare. You like Bob.

Once everyone’s in position, Bob makes the first serve - this time a perfect one that arcs the ball over the net and into Payback’s waiting hands. He bumps it over the net, and the game continues.

The sun beats down on you as you play into the evening. You try your hardest not to ogle the guys around you - or Natasha, for that matter - and it’s relatively easy once you start focusing on the game. But unexplainably, every single time Bradley leaps up to spike the ball, you feel a jolt of excitement at the sight of his abs clenching and his bicep muscles rippling in slow motion. It’s all tan skin and toned calves and bulging biceps and-

Your train of thought is interrupted by Bob calling out “Buttercup, eyes up!”

You swiftly bounce back into motion, bumping the ball over to Phoenix, who slams the ball over the net. Close one. And that’s another thing - you’ve adjusted shockingly well to your honorary callsign as every one of your teammates decides to use it, even Natasha a few times (you only feel slightly betrayed at that).

They reshuffle the groups every game and somewhere along the line, Bradley’s suddenly on your team. You resign yourself to staying as far away from him as possible and let him take the front line and you linger towards the back, and for the most part, your team works like a well-oiled machine.

You’re surprised at how well Bradley can predict your next move, always positioning himself in the perfect spot to catch your set and spike it over the net. It’s like years of verbal sparring somehow prepared you for this moment to absolutely annihilate Hangman’s team together at volleyball. After one particularly spectacular play, you lock eyes with him and marvel at how in sync the two of you are. Mindlessly, you offer him a double thumbs up.

Jesus Christ, you’re a dork, you think to yourself before Bradley enthusiastically throws up a goofy thumbs up in return.

After Coyote’s attempt to save the ball ended with him diving and skidding into the sand, the opposing team wins the game point. “Alright, I think I’m gonna call it,” he says loudly and stands up to brush the sand off his knees.

You look up and finally realize just how much time has passed. The sun’s making its way down the horizon, and the sky has transformed into a beautiful spectrum of orange and pink hues scattered across the wide expanse. The Hard Deck behind you is already lit with colorful LEDs, and the parking lot is a few cars fuller as more locals make their way in for evening drinks.

Natasha, who had already relocated to the other team earlier, raises both hands in the air. “I’m still down for a game or two! Bob?”

“You guys go ahead,” Bob says, wiping at his glasses. “I gotta rinse the sand off these, I can’t see shit.” As he makes his way back to the cars, he holds his hand out for you to slap your palm into for a quick low five. A couple of other pilots agree to make their way in for drinks, except Hangman.

“I’m game.” - “I’ll play.” you and Bradley both say at the same time, then eye each other curiously. He’s finally removed his sunglasses and you observe how his light brown eyes shine in the evening light. Somehow, his mustache has bits of sand stuck into it from his many dives to the ground.

You know you’re not much better off - you’ll be scraping sand out from your scalp for days after this.

“I’ll play with Phoenix,” Hangman proclaims, and tosses a ball over to Bradley. “Losers can serve this time.”

Everyone else rolls their eyes. “You uh... You want to start?” Bradley turns to you, idly tossing the ball in the air. “I mean, serve?”

You nod your head and he passes it to you to begin the game. Somehow, you and Bradley work even better as a team of two without the extra people to keep track of. Neither of you even has to call out your next move - both just instinctively making way for the other when Nat or Hangman sends the ball barrelling over the net. It’s easy, effortless, something you never really felt with Bradley until you opened yourself up to working together with him.

“Heads up!” Bradley calls out and passes the ball to you, setting you up for a nice spike that wins you the game. “Nice one, Buttercup!”

After celebrating your victory with Rooster with an awkward high five that you can still feel vibrating in your right hand, you make your way back up to the Hard Deck. Natasha is toweling off sand near her car and she holds out a water bottle as you approach, which you accept gratefully.

“Thanks for coming. I know it was late notice, but the guys really liked you,” she grins as you chug half of the water in record time.

“I had a great time!” you tell her and screw the cap back on. “I really can’t express enough how much I appreciate the invite and getting to know you all. You all are so welcoming - i-it just means a lot to me, being new here and all.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at you with what you can best describe as a guilty expression. “I’ve gotta be honest because I feel bad about hiding things. Cam and I may have conspired to bring you here to make nice with Bradley.”

Your heart sinks. “What?” you ask numbly,

She slams the trunk of her SUV shut before responding. “Hear me out - Cam’s a really good friend. I met them back when I was at TOP GUN for the first time. And now we’ve been catching up over yoga and they told me about your whole thing with Rooster - I mean, Bradley - from your college days. And I thought it was funny, honestly, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was a little shit back then.

“But I know something happened between the two of you last week,” she says, and you stiffen. “Because Bradley’s going through some rough shit with this mission, but he was worse than usual last Thursday. And I wasn’t sure what could’ve caused it - I thought it was the same shit with our instructor or something. But then he got super wasted back at base and was just moping around about some Buttercup or whatever and I put together the bits and pieces. Long story short, this mission is so fucking crucial. It’s life or death, and we need the best of the best to be on their A-game, and that especially includes Rooster.

“Plus, Cam thinks you should let bygones be bygones for the sake of your journey - which I don’t know many details about and I’m not going to pry, but I trust them. So yeah, I suggested volleyball to the team, and conveniently, Yale wasn’t able to make it so I offered to have you sub in, and here we are now,” she finishes quickly, still looking nervous.

You breathe in heavily, leaning against her car and mulling over her words. “I don’t... I’m not sure what I can do with him.”

“For what it’s worth, you two seemed to make a really good team near the end there. Maybe you can go smooth things over with him now,” she gestures to where Bradley is currently sitting on one of the wooden beach chairs in the sand.

You settle an unimpressed look on her and she hastily corrects herself. “Like - not that you’ve done anything wrong to smooth things over. Just... Look, I think he just feels really bad about it - as he should! - but he’s definitely too embarrassed to approach you, let alone apologize out of the blue for how things went down. And maybe if you just go over there, he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you what he said to me Friday night.”

“What did he say Friday night?” you quirk an eyebrow.

She sighs. “I’d love to tell you, girl, but it’s not my place. Just talk to him?”

You nod, crossing your arms. “I’m not entirely thrilled that you and Cam tried to be all sneaky,” Natasha has the decency to look a little ashamed. “But I understand why. And I mean... At this point, I’m tired of being in this weird limbo with him.”

She nods in understanding. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I owe you a mint g&t afterward!”

“Sounds great. Wait, how do you know I drink-” you start, but Phoenix is already walking towards the Hard Deck with a sly grin on her face.

“Good luck, Buttercup!” she calls out before disappearing around the corner of the building.

You sigh again and shoot a glance over to where Bradley’s still sitting, still staring at the sky changing colors over the horizon. It’s now or never, you think, then silently berate yourself for thinking something so cliche. Taking another deep breath, you make your way across the beach to the unoccupied chair under the umbrella.

“Hey,” you come up behind him, wavering to see if he’s going to dismiss you or let him join him.

He looks up, and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach when his warm, chocolate eyes meet your nervous gaze. Why isn’t he being a regular douche and wearing his sunglasses? “Hi, Buttercup.”

You shuffle your feet around slightly, shifting your eyes around to avoid that weird feeling again. Maybe you’re just hungry. “Mind if I join you?”

He extends a hand out to gesture toward the empty chair to his right. “By all means.”

You mumble a quick “thanks” and plop down in the seat next to him. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you - to pass the time, you look up at the multi-colored umbrella above you and count how many different colored stripes there are.

You’re at four reds when Bradley breaks the silence. “‘Bane of your existence', huh?” he says with a crooked smile. “What is this, Bridgerton?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“Bridgerton on Netflix? Season 2? Anthony and Kate?”

You look over at him with an incredulous look. “You’ve seen that entire show?” you deadpan.

He stretches his legs out, brushing some sand from his knees absentmindedly. “I mean... Yeah. Love me some Shonda. No Grey’s for me though - couldn’t get past season 2.”

You snort, looking over at him. “I don’t think I’ve managed to finish a show at all in the last five years. My job was always... Well, either way, I just finished Stranger Things on Saturday. Bridgerton might be next.”

“It’s pretty good.” He bounces his head in a nod, looking back out at the horizon. Another few beats of silence pass, and you struggle to find the exact words you want to say. But it seems like Natasha was right about him after all because Bradley beats you to the punch before you can open your mouth. “Listen, I just... I feel terrible about what happened in college. And I know I was all petty and mean earlier today and I don’t want to just make excuses for my actions. Shit, I want to keep myself accountable but I never could have imagined I was making you feel that way in college. And especially here, you know?”

You chew your lower lip and tightly grip the armrests of the chair nervously. “I just... I shouldn’t have blown up at you on Thursday-”

He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I totally deserved that-”

“I just got so angry-”

“As you should be-”

“And things have just been so hard lately-”

“I’m really sorry about that, I had no business trying to pry-”

“Jesus Christ, let me finish, Bradley!” you interrupt loudly. He shrinks back and you rub your temples warily.

“That’s what she said,” he mumbles and you look at him incredulously.

A burst of laughter falls from your lips. “Are you twelve?” you ask through a giggle and he breaks out into a wide smile.

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you speak. My lips are sealed,” he mimes sealing them with an imaginary key and then throwing it behind him. Your eyes linger over the small crinkles by his eyes as he’s smiling, and you quickly snap them back to the sand in front of you, choosing your next words carefully.

“I guess... Well, first things first you should know that I quit my job.”

Bradley looks shocked. "What?! At Java-"

"No, not Java Roasters. I mean my job in Raleigh," you huff out and lean all the way back so that your head rests against the wood. His eyes are trained on you, unblinking.

“Why?” he asks.

"I quit... because I hated it. I hated the daily minutia of logging onto a computer and attending stupid morning meetings and reporting my stupid project progress and pretending my work is meaningful- I just... I couldn't do it anymore.”

Bradley’s gaze is still focused solely on you. It feels less intense now, less nerve-wracking than it’s ever felt before. Like there’s no judgment or threat of mocking, just Bradley listening like you’re telling him the most riveting tale and not the story of how everything is falling apart. He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“I remember the moment I made the decision so clearly. Like on my way back from work, driving down I-40 and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life that way like a... Like a blur. I don’t even recall the last time I picked up a book for fun or got into a tv show or followed one of my passions.”

You pause to take a breath, feeling the returning lump in your throat become increasingly hard to swallow as you realize just how vulnerable you’re becoming. “So I quit. Called up all my friends and Camila was the only one to offer me something that wasn’t another job in the field that literally burned me out. So I’m here now. Just a failure, but at least I didn’t get fired,” you joke, turning away to wipe the one tear that’s fallen down your right cheek.

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” you hear Bradley say and suddenly his hand is there - open-faced on your left armrest, not touching you in the slightest. An invitation. A peace offering. A symbol of support. You hesitate for a moment before grasping his hand with your left, squeezing lightly. He continues, “Nothing about this tells me you’re a failure. I never even thought that word was in your vocabulary.”

“You know, you learn something new every day,” you reply through a soggy giggle. He chuckles and squeezes his hand twice. “I don’t know. Back in undergrad, I thought this was what I wanted. Working for a big-shot company with cutting-edge tech. Then I just got pigeonholed into doing the same thing over and over again, and the work was rarely that stimulating.

“Anyways,” you continue. “I guess I just wanted to explain myself and why I’m here now. And Cam says I’ve been holding onto the past for too long, so I guess that’s why everything just all came out last Thursday. I’m sorry - you didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that.”

Bradley’s been attentive, nodding throughout your spiel and holding onto your hand tightly. When you gesture for him to say his piece, he clears his throat and removes his hand from your grasp. You ignore how cold your fingers feel now and shove them under your thigh.

“I never knew there was a different side to our... relationship. I always figured it was friendly competition like we were just pushing each other. And honestly, I think it got me through some of my gen eds because I studied so hard into the night trying to impress you-”

“Impress me?” you ask, partly from shock. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. You were smart and so sincere about school and it was always so inspiring, I wanted to do the same. Maybe you’d think I was... cool. I guess” You let his words sit in the air, looking back on every single interaction with him from undergrad that you can remember.

Because you can’t remember him being malicious, or him being cruel or mean. If you took off your Petty Goggles™, you can see that maybe he never meant to talk to you in a mocking, demeaning way. Maybe.

“I’m sorry,” Bradley goes on. “I never meant to give you a hard time in college. I wish I saw how my teasing affected you earlier and I wish I was observant enough to realize you never played along, you always just sort of... took it. That’s not fair to you at all. And I wish I hadn't been so obnoxious and fallen back into old habits this past week. I’m just really sorry. And moving forward I’d like to be more self-aware.”

You nod, cracking a half smile. “You were pretty fucking obnoxious. Caramel in matcha sounds terrible.”

“It’s incredible,” he defends. “And just for the record, I finished every single drink you made for me. You’re doing amazing as a barista so far, sweetheart.”

The two of you laugh, and you feel so much lighter. At this moment, you think that maybe you and Bradley could be friendly - at least, you definitely could leave the past in the past and get a fresh start just like you were hoping to do when you came to North Island. Let go of this stuff with Bradley and get to know him for who he is.

“Listen... If you’re willing, I-I’d like to have a fresh start?” he says, and he stumbles over the words clumsily, like he’s rehearsed them like he’s hoping you won’t turn him down.

You smile. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Bradley.”

Bradley beams at you - oh fuck, there’s that weird nauseating feeling in your gut - and you hesitantly smile right back. “Let’s head back inside. I’ll get you a drink,” he starts to stand.

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Thought you wanted me to cover the next drink? You know, with my big STEMinist paycheck?”

He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns his head up to the sky before exhaling with a pained smile. “I’m quite a jackass, aren’t I?”

You roll your eyes and laugh before turning around and making your way through the cool sand. Your heart feels full - ten sizes bigger. “You seem like a good guy now, Bradshaw.”

“Listen, Buttercup,” Bradley said at post-volleyball drinks, right as he was getting up to leave for the night. “I know you’re an organized girl and you like to keep things up to date - which is why I must inform you that whatever number you have under my name in your phone is most definitely out of date.”

“I’d honestly be impressed if you still had the same number fifteen years later,” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, well if you want to reach out to me for any reason, here you go,” he slides over a bar napkin with hastily scribbled digits on it. “Just - save me under my real name? Not like ‘Satan’s Spawn’ or ‘My Worst Nightmare’.”

“Both are accurate,” you say, pulling out your phone. “I believe I had you under ‘El Diablo’ back then.”

“The devil- Oh REAL clever.”

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting Bradley more often than you ever thought you would - which to be fair is a low bar, seeing as you never thought you’d even reply to one of his texts. It’s sporadic since you know he’s busy preparing for a mission of some sort on base (he and Natasha didn’t elaborate much more on it during drinks) but he makes an effort to keep the conversation going throughout the day and into the late hours of the night when his replies are longer and more frequent.

He invites you out to the Hard Deck on Wednesday evening, and you stay to talk late into the night until last call, talking about what you both have done since graduating and gossiping about old college friends. You’re both careful not to discuss what happened during college, your plans, or Bradley’s upcoming dangerous mission - for now, it’s just casual comfortable conversation. You’re becoming friends.

Somehow, you finally feel at peace with being right where you are - just working at the coffee shop and being friends with Bradley and doing things other than catching up on tv shows. You shoot out emails to your old favorite professors and former colleagues, asking for guidance on what you can do next in your career, and for the first time, you feel hopeful about your future.

You’ve advanced from treading water to doing a nice, comfortable backstroke. And it feels like it’ll be clear skies for some time.

Saturday evening at around 5 PM, after you’ve listened to a motivational podcast and finished chores and your weekly laundry, your phone lights up with a call from Lieutenant Gallo.

“Buttercup!” he sings out as soon as you answer. “What are you doing right now?”

“Um,” you eye your empty kitchen sink, the spotless floors, and the crumb-free kitchen countertops. “Nothing. Just finished my laundry and some other chores.”

“Oh perfect! I’m pulling up at your house in two minutes.”

“I- what? Who gave you my address?”

“Nat, who got it from Cam. You can yell at them later! Just change into something comfortable and wear tennis shoes.” He hangs up.

Ten minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of Bradley’s Ford Bronco. As soon as you slid into the vehicle, he shoved a paper bag towards you and an iced coffee from Starbucks (“Sorry for the betrayal, sweetheart, if only Java wasn’t closed on the weekends”).

“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” you asked, breaking off a piece of a blueberry scone and popping it into your mouth.

“Well, you’ll need your energy,” he says vaguely and smiles at you through the side of his sunglasses.

While you finish off your drink, you survey your enemy-turned-friend in the driver’s seat. Bradley’s right elbow is propped up on the middle console, his left hand extended to grip the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position. The black, sleeveless athletic top is painfully well-fitted and accentuates his stupid muscles. Your eyes catch the way his bicep tenses when he maneuvers a left turn, the way the cords in his forearm clench when he takes a sip of his caramel matcha monstrosity. There’s some old song from the ‘80s playing at low volume on the radio, and your gaze travels to how his long fingers tap out the beat on the console.

He’s so fucking pretty. And suddenly you’re going through your mental Rolodex of conversation starters, going through all the possible cool things you could say because holy fuck do you want to try and impress him right now. Or make him smile or laugh or maybe reach over and grab your hand again like he did on the beach

“Sorry, my A/C’s busted,” he interrupts your train of thought. He’d rolled the windows down earlier for which you were grateful - despite it being late afternoon, it was still incredibly hot.

“Eh, it’s better for the environment to roll the windows down,” you reply. “I mean - to a certain extent. Like I heard at higher speeds it’s not super fuel efficient because it causes more drag for the car and- well, I’m sure you know about that, being a pilot and all. Never-”

“No no, keep going,” he says and you swear his mustache quirks up with his smile. “It’s not like I’m rolling down the windows in a F/A-18. I like hearing you STEMsplain it, Buttercup.”

“Shut up,” you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks that must have something to do with the sun. You can’t be this nervous around a guy who almost fainted during his first keg stand. “So can you at least tell me where we are?”

He heaves out a dramatic sigh. “Well, right now, we’re in San Diego-”

“Bradley, I swear I’ll jump out of this car-” you threaten through a laugh.

“We’ll be there in two minutes, Buttercup, jeez! We’re near Point Loma, though, and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

Three minutes later, Bradley drives past a sign reading Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - and your heartbeat quickens.

You didn’t even think he heard you offhandedly mentioning your plan to check out the short trail up near here but not wanting to go alone. Your long-winded spiel had been interrupted on Monday by Jake loudly calling you two over to watch his winning 9-ball move (he’d missed the pocket entirely, but that’s beside the point).

Bradley pulling out all the stops today just makes it difficult to hate him, impossible to be annoyed with how he was before because you can tell he’s trying so hard to make it up to you and be a better friend. You resolve to do the same for him some time - maybe you’ll attempt to craft the matcha monstrosity after all.

“I got water and sunscreen in the back - it’s just like an hour to hike but I know you said you wanted to try something new here, so...” he seems a little nervous now, not meeting your eyes and busying himself with what’s in the back trunk.

“Thanks, Bradley,” you tell him, and the smile he sends your way finally makes you understand just what Andrew Garfield was waxing poetic about with the shot of espresso nonsense.

The two of you don’t chat much - mainly because the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean drown out anything that isn’t a loud shout, but the silence is comfortable between the two. He lets you lead the way, following behind you and pointing out rocks that might trip you up.

After reaching the turnaround point of the trail, you both settle on a large, flat rock to watch the water over the horizon, the waves forming from far out and crashing onto the side of the cliffs. It’s far too early to see any sunset views, but the sun is still warming your faces and the wind is breezy enough to cool you down without blowing sand into your eyes. It’s quieter here, and you settle into talking about anything and everything, just as you always have this past week.

After an extended beat of silence, you muster up the courage to broach a subject that’s been plaguing your mind. "So what's up with you and your mission instructor?” you hesitantly ask. “Phoenix told me you guys have some beef. Like, really slow-roasted beef. Worse than your shit with pretty boy-"

"Oh my god," Bradley scrubs a hand over his face. "Please don't call Hangman a pretty boy. At the very least, not to his face. He'll never let me hear the end of it."

You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully in response. You don’t push the topic again, instead waiting for him to either accept the ball in his court or just lob a different conversation topic back at you.

"He pulled my papers to the naval academy," Bradley says quietly. "Set me back four years."

“Oh...” you trail off, not sure what to say. “Why would he do that?”

Bradley inhales deeply and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I always knew him as Uncle Pete - or Maverick. He flew with my dad - Goose - and they were really close friends. My mom joked about feeling like a third wheel at times and honestly, I can understand how from what I remember,” he huffs out a laugh, and you smile slightly.

“I was four when my dad died. It was during some training exercise, their plane got caught in a jet stream and they had to eject. Maverick got out fine, my dad-” he cuts off, turning his head away to look at the ocean again.

Feeling the deja vu hit, you hold your hand out, palm facing up. “You don’t have to go into the details,” you say as softly as you can above the sound of the wind and the waves.

When he looks over, the pain in his eyes makes a pit form in your stomach, which is only slightly alleviated by him slipping his large, warm hand into your outstretched one. “No, no, it’s just... It’s been a while since I talked about it. And I’ve just been so angry in class and during training these past few weeks. I don’t know why he’d want to hold me back from making my dad proud. But I just can’t let go of it.”

You squeeze his hand once, letting his words sink in, giving him time to empty all his thoughts. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about listening and supporting people, it’s that you don’t always have to have a response. It’s just about being there.

“I think he just... He didn’t think I could do it,” he goes on. “Or be as good as my dad. And neither he nor my mom wanted me to go into the Navy, but I wanted to for my dad. For Goose.”

A minute passes of silence. He squeezes your hand once, and you take it as a sign to reply. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be really damn proud of you.”

He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Sometimes I watch how Mav flies and think about how different we are. He’s fast, spontaneous, and reckless to a point. And my dad loved flying with him. I’m cautious - Jake’s already given me a hard time for being too slow. I don’t... I think my dad would’ve wanted me to stop holding back.”

You nod, focusing on the way his hand feels in yours, the way his thumb has started absentmindedly rubbing circles over your knuckle. “I mean...” you start. “I don’t think your dad would be disappointed with the way you fly, Bradley. You’re the best of the best, like, Natasha told me how you’re all in the top 1% and you were all called back for this crazy mission and that’s such a big accomplishment in and of itself. But...” you trail off.

He squeezes twice for you to continue. “But I think he wouldn’t want to see you holding this grudge against Maverick. And I know I’m the last person who should be telling you to let go of the past... But honestly, ever since our fresh start, I’ve felt so relieved, and hopeful, you know? And it’s absolutely not the same thing, I know. Mav betrayed you, and I mean, I was just mad you were better than me-”

He scoffs. “It was more than that, Buttercup. Don’t downplay your struggles-”

You wave your free hand. “Regardless! I just mean to say... If this mission really is life or death like you said, then maybe the two of you need to talk it out. Have a fresh start. Just like we did - minus the hand holding, though,” you joke, holding up your joined hands slightly.

He smiles softly, squeezing once, sending your heart into a frenzy. “Thanks. I really appreciate your input and I’ll think about it, Buttercup. Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on a fresh start.”

The comfortable silence returns, and you turn your gaze back to the ocean, which isn’t as pretty as you remember it being. Even with the sun getting lower, casting rays that reflect brilliantly off the surface of the water, the sight still isn’t as breathtaking as the man next to you.

“Sorry I’m still calling you Buttercup, by the way,” he breaks the silence. “I’ll stop - I mean it’ll take a while to switch over, but...”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it, honestly. If you called me by my real name, I might have a stroke.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling ever so sweetly, and just then you realize that the nauseous feeling plaguing you this whole week is butterflies. In your stomach. Just like the Miley Cyrus song.

Sweet niblets.

Tuesday finds you in the middle of another rom-com binge night - you’re on your third glass of ranch water (courtesy of some girl Brittany from Instagram) and your second throwback film of the night (Mean Girls) just for the comfort it provides. You hadn’t heard from Bradley yet - apparently, something happened during yesterday’s training and some Naval officer had passed away.

It’s been rough for him with the mission coming up next week - you’re happy to give him some space.

Your phone starts buzzing between your ass and the couch, and you pull it out to see another call from Lieutenant Gallo. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you smile slightly, swirling the contents of your drink in the glass idly. “How are you feeling? How was the funeral?”

Bradley’s driving - you can hear the hum of the vehicle over the phone and the Bronco’s turn signal. “It was fine,” he says, finally, sounding distant - and not just because he’s put you on speaker.

“You okay?” You fold your legs underneath you and pause the TV, devoting your undivided attention to him. “You can talk to me.”

He’s still silent. Then, he says your name - your real name. Your stomach drops immediately like you just hit some turbulence, and you set your drink down on a coaster and wait for him to continue. “I don’t know. It just reminded me of how terrible this job can be. Losing someone like that. I mean, no one knew just how sick Admiral Kazansky was, but…. Fuck. It’s brutal here. And Phoenix and Bob both had to punch out,” you gasp softly, “...they stayed for overnight observation and they’re fine now, but it’s terrifying.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’m glad they’re okay. I know that must be terrifying, Bradley,” you say. “Are you... Are you just more worried about the mission now?”

A heavy sigh. “Yeah. Something like that.” Another turn signal click - your heartbeat is somehow outpacing it. “Listen…” he says your real name again. Your smartwatch is going to think you’re going into cardiac arrest. “I know… I appreciate our becoming friends now. You’ve gotta know that. I just need to warn you about this mission… it’s gonna be fucking brutal. And you know, after we get back - if we get back, sorry to put it that way - it just never ends… it’s onto the next thing. I might get shipped out to Manama or somewhere, I’m not sure. And I just wanted to warn you, because I don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck here for-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say after a sharp intake of breath. His words strike deep into your heart, unearthing feelings of hopelessness you thought you were just starting to bury.

“I mean… look, I just know I’m headed out after this mission if I get back. And until you figure things out you’re staying here, right? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure what your next step is going to be.”

You nod again, thinking back to your breathing exercises, thinking back to your hike with Bradley, thinking back to the smell of sunscreen on his skin, the sound of the waves, the weight of his hand in yours. Your efforts are for naught though, as tears still find a way to roll down your cheeks in fat droplets - like the rain on the day you decided to just quit once and for all. The biggest fucking mistake of your life, maybe. “Yeah, I guess,” you croak out.

Bradley’s silent on the line for a second. “I just wanted to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to be straightforward with you. Because I really appreciate your friendship. I wish we could’ve managed the niceties fifteen years ago,” he chuckles dryly. You feel something shift inside you at his phrasing - you’re annoyed at his leisurely tone. He knows exactly why things were the way they were in undergrad. “I just don’t want to keep you waiting here for me.”

That’s the final nail in the coffin. The cruel, painful reminder that your path ahead is terribly foggy, completely uncertain. To hear Bradley speak about it so matter-of-factly, as if he too is expecting nothing more from you but to stay in this guest house for the rest of eternity. It’s honestly starting to sound like a good idea.

You eye your open laptop where you had pulled up info about Stanford University’s Masters and Ph.D. programs in Computer Science. A dozen tabs are open - programs for schools all across the world, YouTube videos of people outlining how they got into research and University teaching, and a very reassuring post on Reddit titled “How old is too old to attend grad school?”

Your heart sinks at the prospect of trying and failing again. At the realization that Bradley called just to informally shift things over to an awkward long-distance acquaintanceship. At the heartbreaking, anxious thought that maybe Bradley can sense you’re just not cut out to take yet another giant step in your career. That you’ll be here for a while. So you close your laptop with your free hand and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Right,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible and wiping your wet cheeks with your shirt. “I get it. I just- yeah. Yeah, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You’re right.”

Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no! It’s fine!” You cut him off. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I um… Fuck. I gotta go, I think.”

“Buttercup-“ he tries, but somehow it fuels a fire you didn’t even know was spreading through your body. All of your anxieties and fears of failure take a backseat to the burning anger in your chest and throat. You find yourself indescribably incensed with him - who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to warn you about staying in this city for too long? Pretending to be concerned about your future?

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You say sharply. “I’m not your buttercup, or your sweetheart, or whatever else you come up with. You know my fucking name, and apparently, you know my plans too! You just have me all figured out, don’t you, Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw, top 1% of all naval pilots - you know what? Good for you, Bradley. I’m glad you have it all figured out and you’re going off on some awesome adventure right after this with your awesome and talented flight buddies.” Oh god, you’re dangerously close to repeating Janis Ian’s angry monologue from Mean Girls.

“They’re not adventures, hon-“

“You can fuck off, Bradshaw. I’ll try my best not to wither away here in Fightertown with no fucking opportunities for me whatsoever, working that fucking barista job trying to make sense of all the fucking ways you can make a macchiato because that’s all I can fucking manage! And you know what - for as long as I’ve hated this job, from just the three weeks I’ve been here that is truly only a modicum of my whole life, I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with treading water and waiting for your next move. But if you’re so worried I’m gonna waste my life waiting for you then I’ll make it easy for you, Bradshaw: I’m not waiting for anyone but my damn self. I’m gonna give myself time and patience because I fucking deserve that after practically killing myself trying to get a degree I might never use again. So thanks for your concern jackass - but you can shove it. I see even after fifteen years you haven’t lost your penchant for making me feel small!”

“Wait, what-“ you jab your finger at the end call button, effectively cutting Bradley Bradshaw out of your life once again.

~happy ending for these bbs coming in part 3 ~

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #topgun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #mine #tw suicide mention

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randomfandomlov3 · 10 months

Text

Price of love (Chapter 5)

Warnings: Angst. Crying. Let me know if I missed any.

Note: Thank you for reading! <3

Word Count~ 2110

He knew that his best friend just did what he thought would be in his best interest, but boy did it hurt to lose her. After he dropped you off at your room, Bucky went to find Steve. He knocked on his best friend’s bedroom door. When the door opened Steve is in shock to see Bucky standing there looking almost nervous. Steve welcomed him into the room and closed the door. “Hey Punk, I wanted to say that I am sorry for how I acted. It’s just that she was one of the best people I had ever met and felt comfortable around. I realize that I am just as much to blame for not telling you off sooner. But I was worried that maybe you were right, and maybe she deserves better than me. I did realize though, that I don’t want to lose you again.” Bucky put his arms out for a hug from his best friend.

Steve gave Bucky a soft smile before returning the hug. “I’m sorry that I meddled in things, Buck. I thought that experience would be good for you, but I knew you wouldn’t do it without incentive, I am really sorry if I messed things up. But just know anyone would be lucky to date you.”

He felt Bucky shake, as he felt tears on his shirt. “What if she was the only one out there for me, and I went and lost her.”

Steve’s heart ached. “I promise things will work out how they are supposed to.” They stood like that for a few minutes before Bucky collected himself and apologized. “You don’t have to apologize for this, I will always be here for you.” After they went their separate ways, Steve knew what he needed to do.

Your bag was empty, and you were trying to get a feel for the room when a knock interrupted your thoughts. When you opened the door, you saw Steve standing there. “Look, I wanted to apologize. I was the one who came up with the stupid idea of paying Bucky to date someone. I was just trying to get him back out there, and more comfortable with others. I can tell I was wrong though; he is heartbroken over this. Did you know he even refused the money after?” His words made you feel heavy.

“But then why didn’t he turn down your offer in the first place?” You were still unsure whether he cared for you.

“He was afraid. He thought that you deserved better than what he could give you. Someone with less baggage. But I promise he is worth getting to know.”

A soft smile graced your face. “I know, I had just started to get through his hard exterior. But I wish he would have let me make that choice for myself because I think that he might be it for me. Why am I telling you this? It doesn’t matter anyway; he would never see me like that after how I reacted.” You went to close the door on Steve, to go cry into your pillow.

He put his hand on the door to stop you. “I disagree, he is very much so still into you. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he just spent a good 10 minutes crying into my shirt about you.” This shocked you; the unfazed assassin was crying over you. “Just think about it.” He took his leave, leaving you with your thoughts. Did Bucky really feel that way about you?

Probably one of the most terrifying things to do was to be seen entering the medical wing by the team. You were bombarded with questions about why you were going to the med bay, and if it had anything to do with you having been away for a couple weeks. Too tired to answer them you allowed them to follow you into the room where Helen said for you to meet her.

She looked around at all the people and back at you to make sure that you were okay with all of them being there. “Yeah, I don’t have the energy to explain everything to them right now so I was hoping you could,” You said with a big grin on your face, to keep up your sunshine persona.

"Well, okay then. How's your shoulder been feeling?" You gave it some gentle movements.

"It's been a little bit sore, but definitely better than it has been," you said, taking off your sweater to reveal the bandage.

"That's to be expected, you were shot in the shoulder, just 2 weeks ago. Now, let's take a look to see how it's healing." The room filled with gasps when she mentioned that you were shot. You didn’t notice Bucky leave the room. Dr. Cho took the gauze off and gave it a gentle wipe to not only check your pain response but also to remove any of the leftover cream. "It looks like it is healing just fine, and you should be able to get your antidote shot at the scheduled time. It doesn't look like you need any more antibiotics, but if anything about it changes come back to see me. And you can take ibuprofen for the pain from here on out, but once again if it doesn't work come back and see me." She reapplied the dressing and told you when she wanted to see you next. You went to the kitchen and smiled upon seeing Bucky standing there, but your bubble burst when he glanced at you before leaving the room. Maybe he was just trying to give you space to figure things out.

He never stayed in the same room as you over the next few days. What if Steve and Sam were wrong? What if he didn't like you anymore? What could you have done to upset him? Spotting Bucky across the room as you set up your station for the injections made your heart ache, you wanted to be happy, but he seemed to hate you. The first thing you did was give yourself the injection and shock so that you could be ready when everyone else arrived. “Agent Roberts? What are you doing here? Didn’t you get your shot already?”

She nodded as she came over to you. “One of the people who have an appointment today requested that they have anybody but you. I’m sorry, but after the agent you shocked, some people are a little wary of this.”

You faked a smile because you had a suspicion that that was not the case, but rather it was personal. She listened very closely to the instructions you gave her for the people who were there for accommodations not just because they were not able to get the shot the other time. Bucky overheard you and his chest hurt, hearing how much you cared.

You left the room trying to hide your broken heart. You decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air and clear your thoughts. Feeling your phone vibrate, you pulled it out to see a text from Natasha. “I heard that you left before the shots were given out is everything okay?”

You wondered who told her because the only one she really knew from the room is Bucky. “Everything is fine it was just requested that I don’t give them out.” You sent back, hoping she would drop the topic.

“Did you get yours though?” A sigh left your lips, you knew that she cared about you, but you didn’t want to talk about that anymore.

“Yes, I did.” You then turned your phone off to have a little bit of peace. The walk ended up leading you to a small café that you went to with Bucky on one of your dates. Feeling nostalgic you decided to go inside and get something to drink.

The lady at the front counter recognized you, but also the look of sadness on your face. “You need a chocolate milkshake, but if you ask me no man could ever be better than a chocolate milkshake.” She said to make you laugh.

“I do like me a chocolate milkshake. Alright, I’ll get one.” A newfound smile graced your face. Taking the milkshake, you went to sit in a booth by the window, to go through your thoughts.

As you were staring out the window a certain redhead comes to sit across from you. “You’ve been distant lately. Is there something on your mind?” Wanda asked setting down her milkshake.

That earned a smirk out of you. “You tell me.”

She looked down at her hands. “Okay, so your thoughts haven’t been very quiet, but I promise I only looked at them when I was concerned for your well-being. I hate seeing you so upset.”

You took a sip of your milkshake before answering, “I understand, I was just teasing you. I don’t mind you peeking in every now and then, it makes me feel cared for.”

The smile that covered her face made you smile as well. “I truly do care about you, which is why I think that you should focus on yourself right now because you are still trying to heal from the injury that you sustained on the battlefield. You need to do what’s best for you, and I promise to help you in whatever ways I can.” She lifted her glass to cheers yours.

“Thank you, Wanda. This means the world to me.” Once you both finished your milkshakes, you stood and hugged her. “I will see you back at the tower shortly, first I want to grab some things from the store.” You said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

Re-entering your room you dropped the bags onto the floor. In the first bag you opened, you pulled out baskets. You arranged them all on the floor careful not to step on any as you went to grab the next bag. Bag by bag you built up these baskets to say thank you to the Avengers for how welcoming they had been, and essentially saying goodbye. Each of them was signed with a sunshine 🔆. You had to do what was best for you, and right now that was not staying here. They all had training right now, so it was the perfect time, you grabbed the baskets and placed one by each of their doors. Then you grabbed your bag and left the tower.

They were all very confused to see cute little baskets outside of each of their doors. Natasha picked up hers and read the note. “Thank you, Habiba. I need to do what’s best for me but let’s stay in touch.”

Sam also read his. “Thank you so much, for everything you have helped me with lately Sam. I will be gone for a while, but I would love to stay in touch.”

Each of the notes was personalized at least a little, but all Bucky’s said was, “I’m sorry.”

Wanda was proud that you took her advice, but she was going to miss seeing your bubbly face around the tower. “Does anyone’s say where sunshine is going?” Tony asked feeling slightly sad that you wouldn’t be around to randomly bring him coffee when he stayed up in his lab way too late.

Everyone just shook their heads. “Just that she will be away for a while,” Sam said, looking between everybody.

Bucky’s brow furrowed when he realized that you left longer messages on the others’, but he just got an apology, but he didn’t even understand why.

“What about you, Buck? I imagine she left you a longer message.” His heart shattered at his best friend's comment.

“All she wrote were the words ‘I’m sorry’ that’s it.” He then entered his room closing the door behind him. Why were you apologizing to him? He was the one who messed up. He was the one who got you shot. He was the one who broke your heart. What could you have had to apologize for?

You were not quite sure what you wanted to do forever, but right now, a vacation was needed. “Hey, Fury?” He hummed in response. “I was hoping I would be able to take a vacation for a while, you know, get out of the city and maybe find myself.”

You stared at your shoes, wondering what would be worse, being allowed to go, or being made to stay. “I think it would do you some good, we will miss you around here, but you being at your best will be what is best for your team.”

Chapter 6

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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moltz23 · 8 months

Text

Random Three Houses & Hopes Trivia: How Edelgard & Dimitri's relationship is shockingly far more convoluted than you would think.

...And arguably how it's also kinda contrived, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

A few weeks ago, I had a realization about something surrounding Edelgard's past which lowkey explains her whole dynamic with Dimitri a ton better than the generally accepted theory that the experiments "those who slither in the dark" did to Edelgard affected her memory (not saying it isn't a factor, mind you). After sharing my thoughts with the Three Houses subreddit, people pointed I either got some facts wrong or was missing some key details, so I went back and did a more thorough research on the whole topic again. And once getting a full picture of the whole situation, I feel it was worth making this post.

To explain what I mean by claiming that Edelgard & Dimitri's relationship is shockingly complicated, we first need to go over everything both Three Houses and its Warriors spinoff tells us about their shared past and experiences:

1. Edelgard in the Goddess Tower scene says her first love was a noble from the kingdom a lifetime ago.

2. In the Blue Lions event "Childhood Memories", Dimitri says the following about his past with Edelgard:

Dimitri: We were born and raised in different territories, without ever knowing the other even existed. Yet, against all odds, for just over a year, we became childhood friends. [...] Unaware of each other's stations or backgrounds, we met and became incredibly close. This was when she and Lord Arundel were living in the Kingdom.

Incidentally, Dimitri also says this in his A-Support with Hapi:

Dimitri: As [Anselma/Patricia] was seeking asylum from the Empire in the Kingdom, Lord Arundel was obligated to hide the Imperial princess's whereabouts. She would undoubtedly have become a political pawn in the Kingdom as well. If her location had gone public, the Empire would have demanded her return. [...] I did not realize until much later that the girl I'd met under such strange circumstances was my stepsister.

3. In the AM event "Questions and Answers", Edelgard is noticeably shocked when Dimitri gives her the dagger back, which brings back the memories of when it was gifted to her. Besides realizing Dimitri was that kid, she also calls him once afterwards "My dear, forgotten friend...".

Oh, and Dimitri also calls her "El" a few times, which is important.

4. In Three Hopes, in one of Edelgard's Expedition lines, she recalls the following about how she got her dagger:

Edelgard: Have I told you about the boy who gave me the dagger? I called him "Dee," which is all I really remember about him.

5. In Edelgard's A-Support with Byleth, she mentions near the end how "there's no one left who calls me El..."

6. In Cindered Shadows, this exchange happens the second time you get to explore during the side-story:

Dimitri: Pardon the odd question, but something has been bothering me for a while now. Your hair...was it always that color?

Edelgard: That is an odd question. But yes, if you must know, it was a different color when I was a child. How could you know that? Is it possible that we met before the academy?

7. And finally, in Three Houses itself, not only any mentions of Edelgard calling Dimitri by name in flashbacks were removed with the last update in the English script, checking the OG Japanese one with Fedatamine.com reveals Edelgard never outright called Dimitri by name in those flashbacks, meaning the changes made to the EN script post-launch were likely done for consistency's sake (as in, the localization took some liberties with the Edelgard and Dimitri flashbacks, the devs likely noticed them, and ordered the translation team to remain faithful to the OG script).

In short, the "tl;dr" version of the whole Edelgard & Dimitri dynamic, in both Three Houses and Three Hopes, is that:

Dimitri recalls all of his past time with Edelgard back when they were kids. He remembers growing close enough to Edie to call her "El", but admits that neither Edelgard nor him knew who the other really was by then. Dimitri also states he eventually put two-and-two-together long after Edelgard had left the kingdom.

Edelgard meanwhile, remembers meeting a boy in the Kingdom whom she once had a crush on. She called him "Dee", recalls receiving her dagger from him and... That's pretty much it.

What exactly does this all mean then?

It means that, not only Edelgard does not remember her past with Dimitri the same way he does (jury's out as for why that's the case), her & Dimitri's recollections of events makes abundantly clear that, for most of Three Houses, Edelgard is 100% unaware that Dimitri and "Dee" (as in, the boy she befriended in the kingdom) are one and the same.

As always, many thanks to everyone who read this post! Looking back at it, I'm lowkey mad that I figured this out so damn late into the game's lifespan given all the evidence pointing it had been staring at my face all along.

But what do you all think about their whole dynamic? Does it make the whole tragedy of both sting deeper? Did it happen to confuse you even more somehow? Does it raise more questions than answers? Or does it feel needlessly complex?

#fe3h #crimson flower #azure moon #scarlet blaze #azure gleam #few3hopes #fewath #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem warriors: three hopes #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #trivia #fire emblem

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waksworldrebooted · 21 days

Text

Qui Suis-Je, Minerva? A Transformers AU One-Shot

A TRANSFORMERS: RIVALRY STORY

Entry 1: April 26, 2054

Trying to start something brand new for myself and for me to understand my inner thoughts and fears better. If anyone from my family is reading this, I love you. I know I’m far from home but I’m doing well.

Oh yeah, where was I…

My name is Minerva Dubois Hinomiya. Graduate of Robotics in Engineering at Daedo, Korea overseas and part-time crime detective in my home city of Paris, France. I enjoy building and solving different things when I have the time. The thrill of what comes next excites me. The idea of tomorrow and what it could bring to a humble woman like me. Coming from a loving family of a french mother and a japanese father, they have raised me well for me to get where I am now.

Anywho, I recently got a job at KSI Industries after my Robotics Teacher suggested it to me, given the corporation was funding him for his personal engineering project, which he refuses to elaborate on but I don’t mind. He’s a great man and I hope he brings luck to his future endeavors.

Can’t wait for my first day tomorrow!

Entry 2: May 3, 2054

It’s been a couple of days since my last entry, and I've been very busy.

Currently in the R & D division at KSI. The workforce are pretty inviting and kind. Boss was kind enough to tell me what their current project is. They’re currently mining unknown debris from the moon that has shape-shifting capabilities. We don’t have a scientific name for it yet, but we call it Transformium for now. They’re building a mech named Scourge Convoy. An autonomous robot that can assume the form of a humanoid and a truck at the same time.

Our leading theory is that there is a mechanical lifeforce out there that can transform at will. My team even managed to reverse-engineer and power up one of the inactive power cells belonging to these titans.

Excited to handle these things as they’re giving me the keys to the lab tomorrow for me to take notes on it.

Entry 3: May 5, 2054

Something terrible just happened, and it was all my fault.

I just was taking notes down on this energy thing my team was working on, but then I started to get a bit hasty. I noticed a wave of frequency surrounding the ball of energy in the container. It looked so pretty….

Well I was stupid, impulses got to me and I decided to touch it.

And then there were the shocks…

I almost died that day, feeling the pluses of pure light and energy seep into myself. I couldn't take it.

My body was found comatose the next morning, and they sent me to the hospital. I should be leaving it later today and I feel alright but not great. Boss suggested I should stay at home with medications to make sure I am alright.

I hope I get better soon.

Entry 4: May 10, 2054

Something is clearly wrong with me in the past few days. I don’t feel the same as I was before.

So it started when I was laying in bed the night after I returned from the hospital, resting on my arms as usual. When I then noticed my arm was…

Cold…

Cold to the touch, so much it felt like steel.

Was I dreaming? I didn’t know then.

I ignored it but then when I was taking a shower, I noticed my skin was shinier than usual. How was that possible I swear?

I might investigate in the next few days if this persists

Entry 5: May 15, 2054

I think I’ve become a robot.

I was showering again on the 6th, that when I undressed in the mirror, I saw a gruesome sight:

My chest started to become more rigid and metallic. It didn’t look anything like a woman’s upper torso. It was slightly bulky and made of yellow steel. I panicked, but then I would become an experiment of some kind. I didn’t want that then, but then it kept on going.

My vision started to blur more often, sometimes “glitching” into that of a camera! More of my body started to become metal, in shades of blue, yellow, grey, and orange. I couldn’t even eat or use the loo, or literally any human thing in the past few days!

I can’t take it. I called up the KSI company to check on me, regardless if I become an experiment or not.

I’m simply not Minerva anymore, I don’t know if I can live my life the same from the various events that transpired….

Entry 6: March 6, 2055

It’s been a long time since my last report, and a lot has went down since!

For months I was in captivity, being a guinea pig for my former Boss to mess around with in the name of research. I kept getting shocked by their tasers to force me back into a human and reverse, which did work, but it became exhausting fast.

Somehow, a team of those giant mechanical beings we were researching on came onto the scene and attacked another project we were working on, that Scourge thing I mentioned. Turned rouge and I was rescued by that rebel team.

They call themselves the Autobots, and they’ve been a better company to me than the scientists at KSI ever could manage.

They took me in, and gave me a small home, gave me my old detective job back to use my skills in tracking down their enemies for them. They even built me my own suit of armor out of my old car!

Most importantly of all, they’re able to modify my hardware to change between human and machine at will without forced shocks. How cool is that!

Even with my human form returning, I think the mechanical form is my new true form. I’ve grown into it. Hell, I don’t think Minerva is the right name for me anymore…

It’s about time everyone started calling me,

Nightbeat.

#transformers #transformers au #minerva transformers #nightbeat #mtmte #tf mtmte #macaddam #maccaddam #maccadam #maccadams #transformers fanart #waksworldrebooted #waksworldart #artists on tumblr

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femininefutbol · 2 years

Text

grand slam

prompt: claudia pina surprises you at your wimbledon final after making you think she wouldn’t be able to make it due to playing in the euros

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i'm no tennis expert by any means so if any details are wrong i'm sorry. also i'm not extremely happy with the way this turned out but i hope you guys enjoy it anyway

“Congratulations (Y/N), you are through to the final of Wimbledon in your first ever Grand Slam appearance” the interviewer states and the crowd breaks into applause.

“I am extremely happy and very shocked. This is just the start of an incredible journey for me. I am honoured to have even been a wildcard in this tournament let alone being able to make it this far, it is a dream come true” you look out at the crowd, basking in the energy and finding your family and coach, the view of them together making you smile even more.

“So the match went on for a while and you were down for the entire first half of it. When you were down 5 - 2 in the second set did you even think you had a chance coming back at all let alone being able to win?” the interviewer asks.

“I first want to give appreciation to Ons Jabeur, she played an incredible game today and myself and probably everyone else was likely under the assumption that she would win. Especially when I was down in the second set but being able to come back in that set through a little bit of luck and a lot of determination gave me the mental push that I needed to be able to fight to the end and thankfully it was enough for me today” you answer the question, still a little surprised that you were even able to bring this game back to win and especially against the current world number 3.

“It is yet to be decided but you will either play Elena Rybakina or Simona Halep in the final, is there a match up that you would prefer?” the interviewer questions.

“Both are incredible players, ones that I love to watch and I am very aware that either would be tough to beat in the final. I am just excited to even be here, it didn’t even seem like a possibility a few years ago so I am just taking in every moment and I will appreciate whichever match-up is served to me” you joke, rather proud of yourself with the pun you just made.

“You mentioned that this didn’t even seem like a possibility a few years ago and that is very interesting. So we know you played football professionally up until a few years ago and could have potentially been preparing to play in the Euro’s right now. Spain plays their opening match tomorrow, is there anything you want to say about that?” the mention of football brings a smile to your face, your mind immediately filled with thoughts of your girlfriend Claudia.

“So I only really started training tennis professionally during lockdown a few years ago, before that I really did think the rest of my career would be spent playing football. I am excited to be here though and this is a dream come true. But I am also so excited for my girlfriend and friends on the national team and I can not wait to be able to attend the rest of the group stage matches to support them” you speak happily, always excited at the mention of Claudia and also football.

“Congratulations (Y/N) (Y/L/N) again for making it to your first Grand Slam final, good luck to you. Any last words?”

“Thank you so much, I’d like to say my own good luck to Claudia and the rest of the Spanish football team for their game against Finland tomorrow” you state, making the Spaniards in the crowd go wild, which causes both yourself and the interviewer to laugh at the reaction.

“You are through to the final” Clàudia screams down the phone, her excitement making you giggle.

“So you were able to watch?” you ask with a large smile.

You knew that it would be hard for Claudia to watch your games at this point as Spain’s opening game for the Euro’s is tomorrow. You wanted to be there and you would have been if you hadn’t made it as far at Wimbledon, but you are going to the rest of the games in the group stage and you are more than ready to play the part of the proud girlfriend at Claudia’s first major tournament.

“I made the rest of the team watch too, some of the girls didn’t think you could come back but I knew you could” Claudia informs you the tone of her voice is one of pride, although that quickly changes through to her next sentence. “I’m so sorry that I won't be able to be there to see you play, I can’t believe I’m missing your first major tournament final” she states sadly.

“Pina baby” you speak softly, hoping to stop her thoughts as they race through her mind.

“(Y/L/N) baby” she replies just as softly, the sadness still evident in her voice.

“This is your first major tournament as well, we are both doing what we love. Even if we can’t be there to support each other in person, I feel your support every time I step out onto the court and i hope you feel mine every time you step onto the pitch”

“But you are going to come and support me after your match and I won’t have been there to support you at all” Claudia explains, still not being able to get over the fact that she won't be there for you at your first ever Grand Slam final.

“Okay and? I hope that there will be many more tournaments that I plan in and I know that you will be there when you can. It’s all part of our lives Pina, and I will love you whether you come to all of my games or none of them” you answer again, hoping to get through to her.

“Well I will always try to come to as many games as possible but when I can’t I will always set up a watch party to cheer you on” Claudia states, the sentiment causing a flutter to run through your chest knowing just how much she really does support you.

“Thank you Pina. I have to go and I assume you probably do as well but I will be cheering you on tomorrow even though I can’t be there”

“I won’t be playing tomorrow, you know how Jorge is” Claudia sighs.

“You better be playing or I will be having stern words when I see him” you and Claudia both laugh at your statement.

“I’m sure he will be terrified of a 19 year old girl” Claudia’s comment causes you both to laugh even more.

“He better be. I love you baby, bye”

“I love you too” You hold Claudia’s words in your mind long after the phone call ends.

Even though you have been working so hard to assure Claudia that it is okay that she can’t be at your game, because it is, it does still hurt you that your biggest supporter can’t be there to see you in the biggest moment of your career thus far.

You try to cast your mind away from the disappointment and instead settle in to watch another of the Euro’s games, sizing up your friends and girlfriend’s potential quarter final rivals. You are happy enough to be distracted by some football for the evening.

You scream in shock, falling to the ground as Elena Rybakina misses your shot, crowning you the winner of the 2022 Wimbledon Grand Slam.

All throughout the award ceremony you beam with joy, still not fully believing that you had actually won your first ever major tennis tournament.

“This must be a dream come true, how are you feeling?” the interviewer asks almost immediately after you are handed the trophy.

“More than anything I am so overjoyed, still very shocked but mainly just so happy. Shoutout to Elena for being an incredible opponent, it was a tough game from start to finish but I didn’t expect anything less. I’d also like to thank my coach who has worked tirelessly with me to be able to make this happen, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without her. Also my mum and sister who are amazing supporters, showing up to every game and training throughout my entire life, whether it had been for tennis, football or any other sport I played, they were always there to watch and cheer me on and I am so glad I have been able to repay them for everything they have done by means of winning this tournament. Lastly I’d like to thank Claudia, even though she was unable to be here today I know she was supporting me from afar just as I was supporting her the same way yesterday. This is for all of them, and all of you as well, vamos Espana!” you raise your trophy at the end of your miniature speech, the crowd loudly cheering as you do, causing tears to well in your eyes at the amount of support you are receiving.

“You played well, you came out with something to prove in that first set and it came away from you in the second but what did you say to yourself coming into the third set?” the interviewer asks.

“I really put my all into that first set, it felt incredible to be up from the beginning and that got to my head a little bit. It distracted me during the second which brought me back to reality and allowed me to find the balance and just play my best in the third set. I’m just lucky that my best happened to be enough today. It all comes down to the team I have around me though, even just being able to look over to them really brought me back to reality and reminded me of the reason that I am doing this, which is nothing to do with ego and everything to do with dreams I’ve had since I was a little girl of being able to conquer anything I set my mind to” you state, the smile not leaving your face as you think of your younger self and how she would feel having been able to achieve something so great.

“Speaking of your team, there is one member who you speak of often and fondly who isn’t able to be here today” the interviewer states, obviously making a mention of Claudia.

“Yeah like I said my incredible girlfriend Claudia isn’t able to be here as she is performing in the Euro’s, but I know she wished to be here and I felt her with me out on the court today, as I do with every game I play. I just hope she is as proud of me as I was of her when I was screaming at the TV in the gym when she entered the game and every time she touched the ball” you laugh, causing the crowd to laugh too, most of them probably not understanding that you are in no way at all exaggerating.

“Well I’d like to congratulate you on the win, but if you check your team box I think there is someone there who would like to offer you an even better congratulations” the interviewer states, pointing behind you to where your team are sitting, clearly having something set up.

You turn around, looking at your team box, your coach, mother and sister who were there the entire game standing proudly. Although new faces have joined the three of them as Claudia and a few other Spanish national team members stand smiling proudly.

Once yours and Claudia's eyes meet the tears that had welled in your eyes freely fall as you as courteously as possible run towards the stand, not being able to wait another second to be with your girlfriend.

“You are here?” you ask, holding her face in your hands, not actually believing that she is physically here. “Is this real?”

“Very real baby. Congratulations on your first Grand Slam win, you didn’t seriously think I would miss it did you?” Claudia asks in return, the smile not leaving either of your faces as you stay staring into her eyes, any sense of anything else completely disappearing as all that matters in this moment is you and her.

“Thank you” you finally get out, not sure how to express your gratitude that she is here to support you or your relief that she didn’t actually miss this moment.

“Of course (Y/L/N). I would love to stay like this forever but you did just win Wimbledon so I assume you have some other things that you are supposed to be doing right now” Claudia states, knowing that you have an insane amount of media duty to attend to.

“Can I kiss you Pina?” the asking is customary as you lean in anyway, capturing her lips in a sweet yet passionate kiss as this is the first time the two of you have been able to physically interact since you left for the beginning of the tournament a few weeks prior.

“Congratulations again mi amor” Claudia states, pushing you away slightly so you will actually leave to do what is required of you.

“Do we even get a hello (Y/L/N)” Patri calls out, herself, Aitana and Ona stand behind Claudia waiting for you to notice them.

“Hello! Thank you for coming, I spent too long kissing Pina, I will make it up to you later” you call as you are walked away by a security personnel, causing the Spanish footballers to just laugh at you as you leave.

#claudia pina #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #fcb femení #woso x reader #barcelona #fcb femeni imagine #espwnt #spain wnt

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torotauri · 2 years

Text

Concussion | Shin Yuna [ITZY]

1560 Words

***

Yuna POV

Watching my boyfriend Y/N play for the university championship is truly a spectacle. I get to brag about him in front of my friends because I have a boyfriend in the university football team. Y/N is one of the best player in the team and he puts in a lot of assists and passes for the attacking players. The game is currently tied at 0-0 and there was a big chance for Y/N's team to score a goal here. A corner was whipped into the box and Y/N jumped up trying to win it. However, instead of heading the ball he bashed his head straight into the opponent and immediately fell down onto the floor. I was shocked, the referee stopped the game immediately and called the medical staff onto the pitch which they carried Y/N off the pitch with a stretcher.

I was in complete shock about what I just saw. Y/N down on the floor after a head clash. The medical staff are panicking a little bit which was never good. The ambulance came onto the pitch as well and things looks very serious in this situation. I quickly ran onto the pitch to see how Y/N is doing, despite the referee trying to stop me. I need to get onto that ambulance and go to the hospital with Y/N. Once I was at the hospital, the doctors and nurses stopped me in front of the partition saying that I am not allowed to go in with Y/N. I looked into Y/N's eyes, he looks so weak and his eyebrow was full of blood, before the doctor took Y/N through to the other side and closed the curtains so they could check Y/N's situation. I waited outside praying that Y/N was fine.

Few Moments Later

Y/N POV

I didn't really know what happened, one moment I was up in the air and now I find myself in the hospital. Honestly, I didn't remember what happened but I as I opened my eyes I saw my girlfriend Yuna there looking at me very worryingly. My head was in a little bit of pain but most of my pain came from around my eyebrows. I was trying to figure out what just happened but I can't remember anything. I just saw my shirt covered in blood. I decided to ask the doctor to see what just happened, but Yuna beat me to it.

Yuna: Doctor, is he ok? What happened to him?

Doctor: Well he suffered a head clash and a concussion. He's passed out straight after the impact but he's alright now and we have given him 5 stitches for the wound in his eyebrow. Just let him rest for a few days and then he will be alright.

Y/N: Wait, I did what? Why don't I remember anything?

Doctor: It's probably the effects of your blackout and the concussion. Everything will be fine if you take enough rest.

Yuna: Thanks doctor. Come on babe let's go back to the dorms so you can get some rest

On the way back to the dorm, I was feeling hungry as I passed through the McDonald's. The smell of a McDonald's burger and a McFlurry was really attractive, and I really fancied some dinner from McDonald's. I asked Yuna if we could stop and grab a bite at McDonald's but she had other ideas.

Y/N: Yuna ah-, can we have McDonald's for dinner? I'm hungry.

Yuna: No, I'm going to cook you something healthy for dinner (aegyo).

There is no lying that I was disappointed because I can't have my cheat meal. However, she put up her cute aegyo that I can't reject so we continued walking back to the dorms.

Once we arrived at the dorm, Yuna immediately told me to get some rest which was annoying because I was still feeling the adrenaline from that football game I just played earlier, but she was very demanding which means that I have no other options but to follow her demands and went to the bed quietly.

Yuna: Right, you need some rest.

Y/N: But I'm hungry not tired.

Yuna: You heard the doctor, you need a lot of rest. I'll make some dinner and then bring it over to you later.

Slowly, I fell asleep. And when I woke up, I woke up to the smell of soup which just made me more hungry. I opened my eyes and saw Yuna sitting next to the bed holding a tray. I thought to myself, dinner must be readied and tried to get out of bed so I could finally eat something. However, once again my actions are stopped by Yuna.

Yuna: No stay in bed, let me take care of you and feed you.

If I'm honest, I don't hate this as much as I thought I would and in fact I was enjoying that I was being taken care of by Yuna. Her cute and caring personality is why I fell for her in the first place.

Yuna: Say ah- (feeds you).

I just sat up on my bed as Yuna fed me the soup she made. It was mushroom soup, my favourite dish and I can tell you that she is a master of making mushroom soup. It tastes so good. That night, we just ended up cuddling and went to bed together. I thought to myself, maybe this injury that I suffered won't be that bad after all......

Y/N: Yuna.

Yuna: Hmmm?

Y/N: I love you.

Yuna: You don't have to tell me that every day. Good night anyways (blushes).

The Next Day

Even with the concussion I suffered yesterday, life needs to go on. There was classes me and Yuna need to attend. I woke up a little bit later than usual and found Yuna has already left for the campus to attend her morning classes. I didn't have any morning classes so I just decided to hang around the dorm for a little bit. I found out that Yuna has put a tuna sandwich in the fridge that she made before she left for school this morning with a note on it. I ripped the note off and read it before having the sandwich.

Later That Day

Classes weren't fun. All of them were boring and I was struggling to focus on what the professor said. Thankfully, I have finished all my classes for today and can look forward to an evening of fun. A few of my friends has asked me to play some chilled football with them after class which I was really looking forward to because I really like football.

Mark: Yo Y/N. We're going to have a chilled kick around at the football pitches. You down?

Y/N: Of course I am, you can always count on me for it. I'll go get changed.

Scott: See you at the pitch bro.

I was trying to rush back to the dorm so I could get changed for the football but immediately I ran into Yuna who was looking confused as to why I was being so rushed.

Yuna: Y/N? Where are you going in a hurry?

Y/N: Oh hey babe. I'm having a kick around with a few of my friends. I'll be back for dinner.

Yuna: No you can't go. You have just been in a concussion and the doctor said you need some rest. I am not letting you play football for at least 2 weeks. Tell your friends that you will join them next time.

What a bummer. Because of a head injury that I don't even remember having, I can't play football with my friends and was now stuck in an evening in the dorm with Yuna probably studying or doing something that will not be as fun as playing football.

I wasn't really in a good mood after Yuna decided to killed my fun so once we went back to our dorm, I just went onto my bed and lied on it going on my phone. Yuna could probably tell that I was a little bit annoyed but that didn't stop her from joining me on bed, put a movie on her laptop and tried to cuddle with me. I don't know what the movie was but I wasn't going to pass on an opportunity to cuddle with my cute girlfriend so I just gave in.

That night, we spent the whole evening cuddling in bed and watching some movies on Netflix. It wasn't how I had planned my evening to go but at least I could enjoy some alone time with my girlfriend Yuna. Thinking back, this concussion wasn't really that bad of a thing. Sure I didn't get to play football for at least 2 weeks according to Yuna, but the way she took care of me from yesterday and today was really heartwarming. And after a brilliant dinner prepared by Yuna following her feeding me once again, I tucked her in bed and gave her a kiss on her forehead as a gesture of appreciation for how she has took care of me ever since I was discharged from the hospital.

Y/N: Yuna, I love you. Thank you for taking care of me (kisses forehead).

Yuna: I love you too Y/N, and come to bed. We have class tomorrow.

#fluff #kpop imagines #kpopfanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop female idols #kpop fluff #yuna #shin yuna #itzy #itzy fanfic #oneshot #kpop oneshots

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everythingne · 1 month

Text

out of the woods, 5 (ls2)

With clear favoritism boosting all of Ferrari's tactics, Dhanishka makes a difficult decision after a crash causes her to see the true colors of her team. Logan sweeps in to save the day.

series masterlist

warnings/notes: mistreatment of Dhanishka by Ferrari, misogyny, migraines, car accidents with very minor injuries, dhanishka and logan kinda being toxic for eachother? yes this is rewritten !

(ch4) (ch6)

The little room they've shoved us all into for media is more crowded than I want it to be. The Chinese GP was off to a rocky start already, with downpour rains all day on Thursday and distant thunderstorms for all of Friday and Saturday, supposedly. Ducking through the media area, I'm looking for Charles, turned in on myself even in the room full of flashing lights as I try to hide from the world. I want nothing to do with media today. I know it's going to be a shit show, and my stomach churns and knots. I manage to hide pretty well, biting my tongue and moving as quickly and as silently as possible until I pop my head up to look. Charles had said he was in the back, but when I look around I can't spot his red shirt anywhere.

I'm about to leave, planning to head back to the garage until I have to come out for media, but I make solid eye contact with Logan across the room. A weird wave of calm hits me, before its also sprinkled with anxiety.

We haven't spoke since he kicked me out, and his face contorts somewhere between what I know to be his normal happy expression and his general frustrated expression.

I can't even read his expressions anymore.

I swallow my pride and smile at him, knowing the cameras are on me. I note his smile isn't full, he does still return one, which at least tells me he'll be normal around media. Which is still my biggest concern even with this new sort of tugging feeling in my heart, which I assume is from when he nestled himself in there and fancied himself a home. Even as he waves me over, I hesitate to move, and I can tell he senses my apprehension. Excusing himself from Oscar and Alex's sides, he begins to cross the small, cramped room. I manage to slip through a wall of reporters surrounding Max (who I don't notice is next to Charles), I'm accidentally being shoved aside and nearly falling flat on my head before I'm grabbed and pulled into the firm protective hold of Logan. Instinctively, his arm wraps tight around my waist as he brings me to his chest. My hands find his shoulders and slide across in a hug as he leans his head down to whisper,

"You look terrified, Isa." His hand squeezes my waist and leaves the skin tingly, as if he's shocked it with little electrodes hidden in his fingertips. All his lingering touches feel like that, they have since I was seventeen.

"I am." I say back to him as I pull back from the hug just enough for us to look at eachother, "It's first media day after we announced this whole... thing."

Logan nods and then sighs, but what I don't expect is for him to take me tight by the skin just above my elbows and into a quiet, dark corner. I also pretend I don't see Oscar cover up for our sudden disappearance from the media pen.

"What are we doing, Dhanishka?" He hisses through his teeth, trapping me in the corner. He's doing it to keep media from seeing our faces if they spot us through the tiny crowd behind Logan's back. But he's also doing it to pressure me into answering him, or at least it feels like that.

"What do you mean?" I ask, not exactly knowing what he's looking for me to say.

"With us." He emphasizes, "We never exactly spoke about it. And you look at me one way and treat me another, so figure out right now how you want this to go."

I pause, a deep feeling in my gut I can't name making its home there as I blink up at my ex-boyfriend now kinda-boyfriend.

"We go along with the PR plans." I say softly and he nods, stepping back to just huff, and run his hand through his hair before letting it fall to his side as he says, "This is probably the worst possible time to bring that up, but I'm sorry for just assuming you wanted to..."

He trails off and before he can finish, I shake my head softly and give him the tiniest reassuring smile I can muster. He quiets at the soft expression on my face as I bring one hand squeeze his forearm;

"No, Logan. I should've told you the truth of what I wanted out of this from from the beginning. It was wrong of me to string you along like that," and I hesitate before adding in a softer voice, "I don't regret it, if you're scared about that, too."

He seems taken aback by my apology, but before we can say more, Logan's manager Astrid comes up to us and smiles in the most fake way I've ever seen in my life.

"Oh good! You two, okay listen," She snaps at me to get my attention and I don't hide the obvious distaste for her attitude I have as she keeps talking, "you guys are acting super awkward and I know you aren't actors but we need to keep selling this to help PR, okay? Logan, be a bit touchier, Dhanishka, smile. You both have images to uphold!"

When she waves us over to media, everything just feels strained. We would've gotten somewhere without the rude interruption from his manager. Logan does listen though, and settles his hand on my lower back to guide me into the media area where a few different drivers are already being interviewed.

When we go to split off to do our interviews, he plants a soft kiss to the side of my head and fixes one of my necklaces thats twisted before squeezing my hand three times.

He did that when we were still kids.

I'm lucky Ophelia is calling me over to do the interview, so I can distract myself from the tears threatening to fall over my waterline. Luckily, for now, I'm out of the grabbing range of asshole reporters and the people who only want a headline.

"Danny..!" Ophelia sings, handing me a microphone labeled 'VOGUE' as she steps in, ever so elegantly, next to me.

"Since we last spoke, quite a bit has happened, but lets talk about this outfit?"

"You look stunning, the red of the Ferrari suits has always looked good on your but this pop? Stunning, brilliant, we love to see it."

We talk a bit more about fashion, and her interview is a bit longer than I'm expecting. I don't wanna leave the safety of her interview, but eventually I'm pulled away and into the mass of the boring, normal interviews.

I wanted to talk more about why Ferrari was using this specific shade of red, not why my rear wing continuously failed while Charles' was always fine. I chalked it up to me driving about a hundred times more aggressively than Charles.

After an hour of normal interviews, it's Sky News who comes to be the kicker. It's some white man reporter I don’t recognize. Unfortunately not Jenson today. When I feel someone staring at me while I greet myself to the reporter, I turn to their gaze and spot Logan. He's far down the pen on my left side and he's staring. When we make eye contact, he makes a foul face at the reporter before he's snagged by another reporter. I don't have time to try and ask further. I miss the reporter introducing himself but don’t miss the way Charles, on my right, comes behind me and roughly grips my wrist.

“Any specific reason you were spotted in London last weekend?” The man asks me. His grip is tightly holding the orange taped microphone towards me and I shrug with a tiny smile. I find myself awkwardly rocking from side to side out of habit. Something in my head tripping every red alarm.

“Just making some visits to my friends, is all. I also had some media responsibilities.” I reply calmly and catch Logan’s eye again. This time, my look lingers long enough to see him try to mouth something to me before the reporter talking pulls me away again.

“A certain driver seems to have caught your eye, though, are we correct to assume there’s some heat between you and a certain Williams driver?” The man smiles almost predatory. Immediately after, Charles taps the back of my arm to signal me to move back as he eyes the reporter. If looks could kill, we'd have a tag team homicide between him and Logan. So, I move back. My eyes study the mans face, the hooded eyes, the slightly narrower left eye. The crooked nose, the wobbly smile. It rings of Trident. Screams it in my face. I can't help but let a soft laugh tumble out of my lips at the realization. It's fucking Anthony Davis. That's why both Logan and Charles have stopped to watch.

“Thought my instagram post was pretty clear,” I chime once I find my footing and push my emotions back, “maybe not as clear as the literal blackmailing you did to Logan. But I'm sure that Williams' lawyers will be in contact soon enough."

My PR agent is gonna just quit one of these days due to my mouth. But I had to say what I needed to. I keep my ice cold glare on Anthony, who tries to stammer out some excuse about the blackmail and I scoff.

"Sorry your brother is too much of a liar to be able to dirty my name. So much so that he sent his baby brother to do his dirty work." I snip and Charles is staring like I’ve just cursed this man out.

I think I can hear Lando laughing somewhere off to the side.

"Dhanishka." Charles hisses through his teeth. Anthony tries to provoke me one more time, and then I point a finger in Anthony's face with a snarl as I step closer.

“We’re done with you and your bullshit, Davis. I hope you have a terrible day. Make sure to tell David I said hi, just to remind him of the woman who took his career from him.” I grin forcibly, watching as Anthony’s face grows in anger. Charles steps between us, asking Anthony to leave and I allow myself a reprieve here to look around. Logan gives me a little smile and an appreciative nod, which I return, before I’m being pulled away by PR.

Qualifying brings back Ferrari’s curse.

I change and take my hair out of its now frizzy braid, taking the time to brush it as I stick my head under the sink faucet to wet my hair. I’m wringing it out as I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I call, grabbing a towel to place over my shoulders as the door pops open and I’m greeted with the soon to be Norris’ couple.

I gawk, “How did you both get in here?”

“That fucking reporter.”

"Sounds like Ferrari, between this and the way Aakash speaks to you over the radios?" Olivia hums, "I think I've heard both Charles and Carlos say these same complaints over the years."

"Maybe talk to Charles about everything, he'd know Ferrari better than I would." Lando suggests, watching his fiance as she finishes off my braid. She then squeezes my shoulders and pulls me back to rest on her chest as she lazily wraps her arms around me. Lando kicking his legs up to rest on my lap as he yawns into the back of his hand.

"I have been, he's been a huge help, but it's still ridiculous." I complain, smushed against Olivia's Red Bull tee as I close my eyes to fight off the stress migraine forming.

"The car or the radio?" Olivia asks and I laugh,

"Both." I declare and she nods in agreement. I complain for a bit longer, Olivia convincing me to talk to Charles about my frustrations once again. But by the time I've gone off to find him, I notice his attention being held by Fred and some of the engineers. Even when I try to get him away, he's continuously pulled back with soft sorry's thrown over his red clad shoulders.

After an hour of trying and failing, I just go home. It's not worth my energy.

I go to bed that night with a migraine, but I'm not sick, nor do I feel stressed. The migraine comes from nowhere, I barely have enough time to get meds in me and get myself tucked in my blankets before it gets worse. I barely stomach my dinner, and it takes ages for me to finally fall asleep.

The next day I nearly crash twice when my tires are too worn. I keep asking, but they won't box me. After the race, I attend all my meetings, and while they celebrate another Charles podium, I can't help but sulk in my drivers room after giving Charles a tight hug in celebration. Sure, I finished a lucky P9 for my car issues... but I was fighting with Max in P2 when my rear tires decided they hated me.

I asked so many times to be boxed. It’s not the first time they've refused to pull me into the pits, but today was the most dangerous. I had no grip, I had nothing but prayers and maybe a bit of luck because I didn't crash out.

When my frustrations don't wear off, even after I snag the treadmill to sprint until my legs are jello, I go to try and find Charles for our little private post-race debrief. I need him in this moment like a fish needs water. The debriefs we have been having being the only thing keeping me from losing my mind in Ferrari. I spot him in the garage. He's being held captive by the team. They engross themselves in deep plans for his racing, smiling and waving hands in excitement. I notice no one had come to grab me. I dart my eyes around and swallow the sick feeling in my gut. Why wasn't I grabbed for a team meeting? Had they forgotten me?

"What about Dhanishka?" Charles asks, eyes flickering over to meet mine and I feel the pull to enter the conversation. I'm ready to make my way over, assuming it was a misunderstanding, until Fred shakes his head and squeezes his golden boys shoulder. The way he does it is so paternal. It almost makes me feel sick.

"Dhanishka comes second to you, Charles. You are more important than some girl. We'll use her to help you..."

Fred's voice fades out to a ringing in my ears. I feel my hands immediately start shaking. I feel myself becoming a mix of rage and embarrassment -- my face burns hotter than prodded embers.

More important than some girl?

How could I have been so stupid? All this time I've been trying to convince myself Ferrari wasn't Trident and here they are, planning behind my back. But to ass insult to injury, it's not for my benefit. In this moment, I am Viscaal, and I understand it now.

They've been straight up gaslighting me.

And when Charles snaps his head up to meet my eyes after a moment, I've already turned to rush down the hall. Tears of betrayal prick in my eyes at my own stupidity, that I felt like I belonged in this red building. Sure, it was something off hand, maybe he didn't mean it the way he said it due to poor translation from language to language, but it was enough to frustrate me to tears.

Would I ever escape teams like this?

I retire to my hotel room early that night. As soon as I can. All I wanna do is party, but to save myself the potential breakdown, I choose not to join anyone in the festivities. My mistake is thinking if I ignore the mass amounts of messages blowing up my phone, no one will search for further answers. Everyone, even drivers like Magnussen, knew I loved a good post race party.

I was the life of the party next to Lando after all.

As soon as I get back, still in all my racing gear save for the helmet, I drop my bag at the door, kick off my shoes, and crawl into bed. I ignore the world, let the sun set into black skies as I stay tucked in my bed. I can't bring myself to move, to change, to shower, to even eat. There's a mix of anxiety, fear, and disappointment in myself wrecking havoc in my gut and genuine pain in my body keeping me in the plush blankets.

My parents call to congratulate me, I humor them with a tired smile and blame it on the time zones. I pretend I'm asleep when I see Anya tries to call me twice.

I can't lie to her. I know she could tell it was more.

I have to ignore Anya so my family will continue to think I'm doing fine. I can't worry them about me turning into the monster I had been after Trident again. If that even seems true, my dad will somehow find a way to pull me out of F1 and bring me home immediately. I try to suppress it, but I can feel that monster clawing at the restraints. I've held it in for so long this season, making it all the way to China's GP, but I know one more thing might make me say fuck it and let myself grow cold again.

Half awake, several hours later, not that I would know the time, someone knocking at the door makes me jump. I ignore it, even as the muffled voices call for me and ask if I'm alright. They all sound like strangers due to how sleepy I am, refusing to move from my warmth, I just stay still. Laying curled up, tucked up to my chin in blankets, until someone scans a card in the door and begins to let themselves in. I jump, preparing to throw my phone in defense, when it's Danny who pops his head in.

"I have a bad migraine, but I'm alive." I say, choosing for that to be the reason as to why I was laying in the dark. Not because I felt too tired to get up to turn the light on. Or that I felt my seventeen year old rage returning.

"Need anything?" Logan asks, feather soft, before the others can. I hate how I can see him noticing all my soft lines turning hard. His eyes trace my face, across my shoulders and then to the way my body lumps under the blankets. I just sit there. Then I shrug when I realize they're expecting an answer.

"Just some sleep. I'll see you guys next race weekend." I wave them off, fake yawning into the back of my hand. Never a fool to my lies, Logan steps into the door frame. Just... welcoming himself in. I don't argue, though something tells me I wouldn't win anyway. Danny and Charles watch cautiously as Logan crosses the room to sit on the edge of my bed, pressing his hand to my temple.

"You're not sick." He murmurs, "just a stress migraine this time, then?"

"You--huh?" I blink and Logan smiles party, a soft blush on his cheeks only illuminated by the light in the hallway.

"You always get migraines when you're stressed or when you've got a fever, Isa." He squeezes my wrist, watching my face carefully, "If you don't feel hot when you have a migraine, it's just stress."

“I know. It’s just been a hard adjustment.” I shrug and Logan nods.

“Adjustings a bitch.” he says and I laugh softly as he frowns, "have you taken meds?"

"Wasn't able to get up and grab them before the migraine kicked in." I say and Charles moves immediately, picking up my back pack and settling it on the edge of the bed while he roots through the side pocket to find my medication bottles. Once found, he hands them to Logan, who hands them to me while Daniel roots through the kitchenette for a water bottle.

"You guys don't have to do this." I say softly as Daniel tosses a bottle to Logan, who cracks it open and hands it to me.

"We do it because we care, not because we have to." Charles sits next to me as I take the medication and Daniel nods, sitting at the foot of the bed while Logan leans on the wall to my side.

"Thank you." I hum and then spend the next five minutes convincing Daniel and Charles to leave, and they go, with the promise that Logan will stay while I shower and get changed into comfy clothes because, according to Daniel,

"Logan's the only guy who really should be seeing that."

With a shove from Charles out the door, Daniel bids goobye and Charles follows suit. I go to get up and before I can, Logan gently sets me down.

"Relax. I'll get everything in order for you." He says softly, then pauses and turns, "they're still as bad as they were with Tri-- Sorry, F2?"

I note Logan cuts himself off and adjusts his words, as if trying to keep Trident a distant memory so I didn't have to think about those days anymore.

Or so he doesn't have to bring up how he still doesn't believe me about back then.

I nod.

Logan opens my suitcase, dodging the underwear and bras, and finds a Ferrari team shirt and a pair of baggy sweats for me. He dissapears into the bathroom and I hear the shower running while he comes back out to grab my hair stuff from the same little bag I've always kept it in before he dissapears again. The medication is kicking in, so a bit of the big edge of the migraine is starting to fade.

Logan comes to my side, laying a cold compress across my forehead as he hums, "Do you have the magnesium and the lavender still?"

"Magnesium I already took with my Maxalt. Lavender is over here." I point to the bedside table and he nods once he spots it, then asks,

"How about an ice cap?"

"In the freezer."

"Other meds?"

"Triphala churan is in my bag, I have the other homeopathy stuff with it."

Logan nods once more, using one of my hands to keep the towel in place for a few moments while he moves to fully draw the curtains closed and he clicks off all the ambiant lighting save for one small orangey lamp off to the far side of the room just so we can see.

"Come on, lets get you up. Get those tense muscles relaxed and get you cleaned up."

It shocks me how much Logan remembers from my migraine attacks, and though this is the acute point where I'm the worst, I find it easier to manage with him at my side.

He brings me into the bathroom, where he's set everything out. Even my skincare is set next to the sink.

"I'll be in the bedroom." He says from the doorway, "I'll leave the door cracked so you have a bit of light but I promise I'm not peeking."

His playful grin makes me tiredly smile as I thank him as he leaves, and I turn to feel the water. It's the perfect temperature. If I didn't already have a searing headache, I might've started crying. I take the time to wash my hair and body, lavender filling the room. It was what was in most of my soaps, considering it helped my headache flare-ups and migraines. I swear I hear Logan open and close the door to the room, but chalk it up to the sound of my headache ringing in my ears.

When I get out of the shower, I dry off and change as quickly as possible, hoping to be able to get out of the bathroom before standing too long made my migraine flare. I manage to do my skincare, which is a bonus, and as I step into the bedroom I smell some sort of food.

Logan is doing something in the kitchenette as so I stumble over and pop my chin on his shoulder to see him making up two little salmon and rice bowls he must've gotten from carry out.

"Feeling better?" He hums softly and I shrug, closing my eyes and sighing heavily. I feel his hesitation, before an arm snakes around my waist and pulls me close to him.

"Salmon is supposed to help with migraines so I got these bowls from this place Zhou recommended nearby." Logan says, dropping his shoulder under mine so he can lift me up. He carries me over to the bed and sets me down, allowing me to tuck myself in while he brings over the food and sits across from me.

"if my head didn't hurt so much I'd have a genuine thank you coming out of my mouth." I say before taking a chomp of the food and rolling my eyes at the absolutely amazing taste. Logan just laughs softly, taking his own bite and opening his eyes wide.

"Oh shit, this is really good." He says once he swallows, then his eyes peek up to mine with a tiny grin as he says, "and definitely not on my meal plan."

With the mix of my medication, the excess of magnesium in my system, the lavender, and a warm shower followed by good food, my migraine has edged off enough that I can enjoy this moment. We mostly eat in silence, even if I can tell Logan is worried. So I cock my head at him and furrow my brow, making him sigh,

"What happened today? Other than the race, I know the race stuff, but that wouldn't be worrying you because car failures are out of your control." Logan explains, making sure to keep his voice abnormally soft, "was Aakash rude on the radios again? Did something happen in Ferrari?"

"I..." letting out a long sigh I lean back into the bed cushions, "Well, yeah, I snapped at Aakash today. Ferrari wouldn't box me and I almost crashed like... four separate times. Luckily Lando or McLaren noticed something was up and had him back off."

Logan nods, listening along to every word I say.

"And then he kinda pissed me off with him being dismissive on the radio, and then cursing at me on the damn radio? And the FIA hasn't done anything about it. And then..."

I sigh, rubbing the side of my head that hurts and Logan leans back to grab the lavender oil and he pops it open to tap some along the insides of my wrists and the sides of my neck without me even asking. So I keep talking.

"And then I heard Charles and Fred talking and... and Fred said 'You are more important than some girl' to Charles and they've just been using me like Trident used Viscaal. Which is just..." I stare Logan dead in the eyes as I grumble, "so ironic."

"Jesus." Logan says after a beat, running his hand through his hair as he sets down his half empty salmon bowl on the bed to adjust how he's seated, "Okay, so, Ferrari's treating you like shit which is why you have this migraine, right? Nothing else?"

"Nothing else." I clarify, "everything else has been absolutely wonderful."

The 'even you' goes unsaid.

Logan laughs softly and rhen groans, running his hand through his hair as he stares up at the ceiling, "I'm sorry Aakash is being a dick, thats not cool of him. And for Fred to say that? I really hope he just messed up his words in translation."

"God, me too." I sigh, finishing off the last of my bowl and leaning across Logan to set it on the bedside. He sets his bowl in mine and then turns to help me get under the blankets so I can finally get some well deserved rest.

I can sense the tension in Logan, and take his hand, rubbing it like a massage as I murmur, "I know mentioning Trident makes this odd bubble of tension between us, and I'm sorry, but god now that I know how Viscaal must've felt I really feel like shit. Why did they make him do that..? What was even the point of crashing into you? We had like four races left in the season, I could've made up the points."

"Trident wanted their Renault fame." He shrugs, looking over at me as I barely poke out of the blankets, just my hands out to hold his.

“It’s probably stupid to bring it back up but I need you to know I genuinely had nothing to do with Viscaal and Trident.” I say and Logan sighs, adjusting the way he’s seated as he says,

“Let’s not ruin a nice moment.”

We talk for so long Logan ends up sleeping in the same bed as me. His arm is wrapped loosely around my waist as my head is tucked in the crook of his neck. It’s safe. It’s definitely not platonic, but it’s safe, and it’s what I need.

So far it's been:

Bahrain, P3,

Saudi, P5,

Australia, P8,

Japan, P4,

China, P7,

and now it's Miami, where I land a solid P10 after Carlos clearly attempts to knock me off the track entirely and runs me into the gravel. I have to fight for my way back up from P20, and Carlos gets himself and Red Bull a 10 second penalty for aggressive driving. I'm impressed with the run some of the back drivers give me (especially Haas and Alpine) but I'm frustrated in general with my finish, I had been doing so well I could’ve easily ended top three, but here I am scoring a singular point.

What could've been more is fucked over when Carlos in P4 swings purposefully wide and damages my front wing, knocking me off the track but not enough for me to fail to recover. We both have to box to check damages, and are both cleared to continue. Everyone can feel my anger in Ferrari, so Aakash doesn’t even bother with saying anything on the radio other than what he needs to.

When we finish, I pull up and wait for podium in the drivers room. I always go to support Charles, and I can tell it means a lot to him when he spots me in the crowd and a big grin pokes across his face.

He walks back to the paddock with me, an arm slung over my shoulder as we talk about anything but the race, and when we get back he excuses himself from the team to pull me into his drivers room.

"You alright?" Charles asks immediately, sitting on his PT bed and wiping his face off with a towel.

"I'm fine, but it's just-- ugh, It's not fair!" I complain to Charles as I pace the length of the tiny drivers room, "I don't know what he has against me!"

"Danny," Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Be proud of what you did accomplish today. Seriously, a wonderful ten place overtake in only seven or so laps! You did amazing tonight, even with that fuck up from Carlos."

"You've been podium every race except for Australia." I snip, whipping around so hard my braid whacks the side of my face, "What I would do to be able to get up there... it's just annoying some drivers have made it their agenda to get me off the track! Carlos has no reason to nearly knock me off the track multiple times today!"

"Carlos is frustrated Ferrari dropped him for you. He'll pretend to be amicable over at Red Bull but he's fucking miserable." Charles sighs, "Ferrari's been no help either, they've yet to pay him the rest of his contract."

—

Imola proves to be more difficult than I expected.

And everything is surprisingly going well.

“My steering is going out!” I curse, trying to stabilize myself—waiting for a red flag or a safety or something. Where the fuck is this safety car for the crash?

I steer too hard, clipping the front of Oscar’s tire on the slick of the still drying rain and spinning out. I feel the gravel as the car spins and then the world rocks when I hit the wall. I can't breathe for a moment, breath caught in my chest as I grip my seatbelts.

"Fuck." I whisper, groaning aloud as I try to blink my brain back into order. It's like someone's hit me in the gut. My first F1 crash, not a terrible one, but I hope I didn't also take Oscar out with me. As I catch my breath, I begin to adjust in my seat so I can get out. No one calls over the radio for a moment, and then,

"Dhanishka, is the car okay?"

"I'm gonna get them fined for this bullshit." Olivia mutters, helping me sit down on my bed. I don't reply as she hands me a change of clothes and then gives me a soft hug, the painkillers slowly kicking in and making my dull pain fade, but my migraine fights through. Because of course it does. Once I feel a bit better, I wave her off to go home and she reluctantly does after ensuring someone will swing by my hotel later to check on me. It ends up being Logan, because of course it is.

And my migraine flares when Aakash knocks, entering my room. He's still got his headphones on, and I bite back about thirty insults as he crosses his arms.

"Feel better?"

"No." I huff, "and your precious car is fine."

"Listen, we're pushing you because we need you to be a better driver." The mechanic looks at me, arms taught over his chest and I wish it was still Ami in charge of my comms.

“Dhanishka—“ Aakash tries and I whip around, pointing at him and watching his face fill with shock as I finally snap under the pressure of the weekend.

“[Charles was frustrated—]”

I cut Aakash off, screaming, “[And I nearly killed myself out there because none of you would help! Do you think I wasn’t also frustrated?!]”

“Listen, I—“

I just sit back and watch, like a movie goer, as the world around me fades in my mind.

taglist (open, and thank you to those on it now!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #ls2 fanfiction #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fic

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