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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

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Chapter 14 - Speed, I am Speed

WE'VE MADE IT TO THE 2024 SEASON. IT IS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!

When I started this fanfic, I never would have thought that people would be interested in it enough for it to get past the first few chapters. But everyone has proved me wrong! Here's to a great fictional season!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN - 6 SPOTS LEFT!

Screams echoed through the paddock as whispers of your arrival seeped through the cracks of the buildings. The drivers watched with smiles as crowds of girls, boys, and adults alike flooded the entrance area to maybe catch of glimpse of you. Only a select few would be lucky enough to get a signature or for you to even take what they offered. But that didn’t damped the electric atmosphere that was quickly building.

The moment you scanned your card and stepped through the turn-style, all hell broke loose.

Max stood next to Christian in the garage that was placed in the middle. The Ferrari garage was to the right, and McLaren sat to the left.

“Quite popular. Isn’t she?” a stray mechanic commented as he worked on one of the RB20s.

Christian only smirked. “She’s great for the media that’s for sure.”

Max stepped through the entrance to wait for you. He was already in his Red Bull kit with a signature can in his grasp. He watched as you quickly signed multiple things and stopped to take few pictures. He noticed that you really only stood still for the squirming kids who really looked nervous to be next to you.

You were hastily ushered farther into the paddock as you were a tad bit late. The outfit you had on was similar to Max. Jeans adorned your legs while a Red Bull polo was hidden behind your famous blue bomber jacket. Dark red sneakers completed the look. A winter flavored red bull sat comfortably in your hand. You had talked to Max about how the flavor was far superior than his preferred original. He would only eyeroll and then sip his own can.

A bright smile shone on your face as the cameras clicked around you. Video cameras followed your every move.

Lando and Charles had joined Max. They too were in their respective Ferrari and McLaren kits. The bright orange clashed with the bright red, while Max was the neutral navy between. Some cameras were pointed their way hoping to get a few shots of a not so common friendship and a decade old rivalry turned friendship. Yet, the trio’s attention was all on you.

You had finally gotten to the garage. However, you completely missed the three and walked right in, excited to greet your mechanics, Christian, pit crew, and Mitch. The one thing the crew all liked about you was that you made sure to try to say hello and check in with how they were doing.

You had surprised everyone with coffees or other drinks for preseason testing as a way to share your appreciation.

As you went around the garage, you gave a quick side hug to Christian and then walked over to Mitch. Your eyes lit up at the sight of another familiar figure next to your strategist. You stood and talked to the two.

While you stood there, completely oblivious to the three men standing outside, they of course didn’t miss anything.

Lando stood there with open eyes. “Did she just walk right past us?”

Max just continued to be unbothered and sipped his drink.

Charles had a familiar knowing look in his eyes. “Who is she talking to mate?”

The British driver scoffed and waved his hand. “Her strategist.”

The Dutchman sighed before maneuvering the papaya man to a better angle.

“Can you see now?” The driver in red questioned as he smirked at the now visible scene.

“Oh.”

The three stared as you talked to your best friend, who was now clad in a Sky Sports polo and khaki pants. You threw your head back as you laughed at something the younger Monegasque had said. Mitch also chuckled where she stood.

Finally, your head turned and eyes made contact with steel blue ones. Your smile somehow got even bigger at the sight of the Dutchman and you other friends. You said something short to the two around you. Arthur gave you a side hug before he ducked out the side entrance, probably going to get ready for the driver’s parade. You’d hope that he was the one to interview you.

You were now making your way to the other three drivers. Your maroon Red Bull was still in your hands.

“Top of the afternoon to you gentlemen,” you spoke in a posh accent. Lando rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up that was a good impression. You’re just a hater.”

“As if. You live there now, you could at least learn how to properly speak.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You barely live there anyway now. You should be talking like Charles if you expect me to be able to finesse a British accent.”

“Oh so now I have to speak in some hoity toity French accent?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused Charles.”

“Stay out of this Max.”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re all pretty, but let’s save the fighting for the track,” a new voice that was attached to one Oscar Piastri sounded as he walked up to the four of you.

“What’s up pastry?” you asked him. “And where is your better half?” Your eyes ran wild around the paddock.

“Uh who?”

“You know? The smell of gunpowder and the cry of eagles follow him where ever he walks?”

Oscar sent you a deadpan look and sighed like a middle-aged dad. He turned just a bit to show the bright blue suit that belonged to the American Williams driver. He was looking at an iPad before he suddenly sensed five pairs of eyes on him. He looked up, grinned stupidly, and waved. You were glad to wave back, while the four men waved small ones.

“He’s such an iPad kid.”

“So are you,” Max finally. You squawked like a bird as you stared at him.

“If I’m one, so is Lando. Mr. I play Fortnite all the time.”

Charles was done with your bickering. “Oscar did you need something?”

The Aussie looked so done with everything, but perked up at the question. “Yes. Zach sent me to fetch Lando. We need to get ready for the parade.”

A look of enlightenment crossed over both Lando and Charles’s faces as they said quick goodbyes before turning to go back to their own garages. That left you and Max to stand out in the open. He closed the gap between you and wrapped an arm around you. At that motion, multiple cameras clicked but the two of you didn’t care.

“Are you ready for today?” he asked as the two of you walked into the garage where you’d be escorted to the parade.

“Yep! I mean, you’re starting pole and I’m starting P6, so we’ll see what happens.” Your shoulders raised in a shrug.

“Kid that’s good for your first race.”

“I know. I think I thought that I’d be higher up.”

Max squeezed you a little tighter. “You just have to worry about overtaking George, Lewis, and Lando. Once you get them, you could be forecast for a podium.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d be happy with just staying in the points.”

Christian clapped the your backs as you passed him to line up in the back for the parade. You found a small corner of the room to just sit in. Your headphones had been given to you in your garage, and classical piano music filled the speakers. You knew you probably looked so anti-social right now, but you didn’t care. You needed to find your calm before the storm hit.

Many drivers didn’t even send you a second glance, yet one found himself on the floor next to you. The Monegasque’s cologne filled your nostrils as you put your head on his shoulder. You flashed him a thankful grin as you showed your phone screen.

MON23 was the song that was currently flooding your headphones. Charles rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face. Max was the one to come get the two of you once the signal was given that the parade was about to start. You and Max walked out together, and there was Arthur, ready with his microphone.

He turned to the camera that was in front of you. “I am joined by Max Verstappen and Y/n L/n. Thank you for joining me, even if you didn’t have a choice.”

Max and you let out a laugh at the comment.

He continued. “So we saw some domination from the RB20 in the free practices with you Max snatching P1, P2, and then P3 respectively and then taking Pole Position for the first race of 2024. How is the car handling this year and do you expect the same amount of untouchable-ness as last year?”

The Dutchman leaned into the microphone, while you stood next to him waving at the spectators.

“Yeah, well we saw that the Ferraris and McLarens were going to be close after the preseason testing. I was glad that I was able to take pole. I know this one,” he pointed at you which made your attention shift to the conversation, “was wanting a higher position. But the car is fantastic, yet I think that it’ll be a closer year.”

Arthur looked happy with the question as he turned to you.

“So Y/n, we know you’re starting P6. What are you plans for that?”

You huffed as you now talked into the microphone. “Well I plan to just fight as hard as I can. I know that Max and I have very different strategies today. But, overall we just want to bring as many points to get a jump start on the Constructors.”

You were given a nod from some personelle signaling that it was time to wrap thing up.

Arthur turned back to the camera. “Well thank you both for your time and best of luck!”

The two of you were led to a car with an open top. Thankfully for this time, you and Max would be together. Funny enough, they told you to drive. Your eyes widened so much when they handed the keys to you.

You kept turning around asking if this information was correct. Max was just sitting in the car laughing. You climbed in and turned the car on. Once the parade started, you pushed the gas pedal and the car started to move.

The lap around the track was a nice one. Max and you made small talk while waving to the crowds who seemed to yell louder when your attention was turned to them.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in your race suit and helmet in your hand, going over your race strategy one more time with Mitch.

She explained it once more. “So by turn one, you need to be up at least two places. You need to get the jump on George, Lando, and Lewis. They tend to go inside, so going wide will be your best friend even if it seems tricky. You're faster than they are. Try to get up to Max who can give you a tow if needed. And kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Just have fun. Points are points. You don’t need a podium to show your worth.”

You nodded at her revelation and put your balaclava on. Arthur had somehow snuck in to do your handshake beforehand. He knew that it would calm you down just a bit. You slipped your helmet on and connected the different wires. With one foot over the car and the other following suit, you quickly adjusted your race suit before slipping down into the car. One of the mechanics put the screen on the nose for you to go over data and tyre degradation one more time. Your eyes flickered across the screen before it was taken away and your car was pushed out.

At that time, you put your visor down. Your fingers touched where your lips would have been without your helmet and rose to the air. A second ritual you would call it – a special motion for your godfather.

Starting Grid:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Lando Norris

George Russel

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Alex Albon

Lance Stroll

Logan Sargeant

Pierre Gasly

Yuki Tsonda

Daniel Ricciardo

Esteban Ocon

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Valtteri Bottas

Nico Hulkenberg

They put your car on the P6 grid mark and stayed near with the tyre covers. The five guys smiled as you began to move about, nerves making it hard to stay still. Your eyes closed and a smile made its way to your lips.

“Speed. I am speed. One winner, nineteen losers. I eat losers for breakfast.”

“Kid, you know the radio is on right?”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Mitch’s voice.

“Uh now I do.”

Her chuckle came through the speakers in your headphones that where under all the face layers.

“At least we know the radio is working.”

One of the men must have gotten the signal because the tire covers came off and everyone who wasn’t a driver fled the scene. Up ahead, you noticed Max start to drive off. After him was Charles, then Lewis, then Lando, then George. And now it was your turn. Using the pedals, you gently eased your car into movement. You were starting on softs. The team had let you know that you were going for a three stop strategy. Softs, hards, then finish the race on softs. Max was going for the soft, soft, and then hards.

The team were hoping that by putting you on the softs, you’d be able to help Max with the last stint of the race. Softs were your specialty, especially used softs. So the last bit of the race should be your fastest.

Your formation lap consisted of weaving back and forth, warming the tyres up and getting them ready to grip the track. Once you were back in your spot, you were careful not to go over the line and stay in the half box. Your eyes shifted up to watch the lights.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Inhale. Exhale.

Blink.

Your feet hit the pedals before your mind even comprehended. Your head swerved back and forth to look at your mirrors. Behind you, there was the dark green Aston Martin of Fernando Alonso and the other papaya colored McLaren of Oscar. However, the beginning of this track was a giant straight.

With tyres still warm, you quickly got into George’s slip stream and made your move.

For the viewers everywhere, Croft’s voice rang out.

“And it’s lights out and away we go!

"Max Verstappen gets the upper hand on Charles Leclerc on that initial jump but Leclerc is not giving up just yet.

"There goes the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton right behind Charles Leclerc as they go into the first corner of this race. Seems like Leclerc was able to keep his position.

"Oh! And around the outside is Y/n L/n getting the jump on both George Russell and Lando Norris! An overtake on the outside is really tricky but she has made it work for her favor. This rookie is making moves right out the bat.

"I see we have some congestion in the back. Looks like the Haas of Kevin Magnussen has found the side of Alfa Romeo of Valtteri Bottas.

"Let’s have a replay of that beginning shall we? We’ll start onboard with our rookie.”

The camera is on your car as the viewers can see the lights go out and your car lurches forward at the start. Your head swivels as it seems like you’re making sure not to hit the Aston or McLaren that were behind you.

But once you found George Russell’s slip stream, your head stayed straight as you exited to the left of George to go around the outside of both the Mercedes and Lando’s McLaren. As your RB20 continued forward George and Lando quickly left your camera’s view as you now had seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton in your sights.

“And what a great overtake that was on L/n’s part. Let’s head back to see that little kiss between the Alfa and Haas.”

You had now found yourself right behind the Mercedes. Yes, they possibly had the faster car, but you had the pace.

And you were gaining.

You pressed the radio button. “Gap to Hamilton?”

Mitch was quick to respond. “Two point three-seven behind. But you’re gaining two tenths a lap. Keep it up.”

“Thank you.”

In the next nine laps, you were right behind him.

“What is the gap to Leclerc after I get around Hamilton?

“Five seconds. But we will pit before you get there. You have about five laps left before tyre degradation gets too terrible. Use three to get around him and two to widen the gap.”

“Perfect.”

Yet, in about two laps you were right on his tail. Using DRS, you were able to get him on turns 14 and 15 as the DRS was coming to an end.

“And it looks like Y/n L/n is about to make her move on Lewis Hamilton! She goes wide once more on turn 14 and cuts him off by going deep into turn 15, does she have it?

"She does! What a move!”

You fly down the straight with Lewis trying to get back ahead of you. Yet, you were quick with the defensive moves.

“Hamilton is not giving up that spot. Will he be able to take it back at the corner of turn one? He does not gain the position back and has to be fine with fourth for now.”

“Good job. Keep it up.”

“I’m trying,” your voice rattled. In three laps you were called into the pits.

“Looks like Red Bull is calling L/n into the pits for her first stop. Now drivers are losing about 15 seconds so this will put her down back to P8 right after the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz who has gained to positions since the start 14 laps ago.

"And that is a 2.0 second pit stop. Phenomenal for Red Bull whose pit crew seemed to be bored this winter break.”

“Good stop. Can you let the boys know?”

“On it kid.”

“Looks like L/n wants a message relayed to the crew. What a sweetheart she is.”

You apparently were the first one to start the pit stop train, because either one, two, or three laps later the pits were full with cars coming in and out. Like strategy, you were now on hards. Yes, they weren’t your preference but, you needed to change the tyre type at least once during the race: it was mandatory.

You somehow were leading the Bahrain Grand Prix. For about the second half.

Surprisingly, Max had gotten overtaken by Charles right out of the pit exit. You knew you needed to extend the gap between you and the Monegasque Driver, so that you and Max could pit at the same time.

By the 37 lap, you were calling in your radio.

“I need to box. Left tyre is almost dead.”

“Got it. Max is in a good position as well so you will come in and Max will follow. Stay focused.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Looks like the Red Bulls are coming in to box. And who is that as well? Charles Leclerc follows Max Verstappen inside. But there is a significant gap as L/n is already leaving the Bull area with new tyres and Verstappen is getting fixed as well. Leclerc will have to have a perfect pit stop to at least catch up to the two.

"And that is a rather slow stop for Ferrari with a 3.2 second stop. Will this be the mistake that leads to yet another Red Bull 1-2?”

You and Max bolted out of the pit exit once it was safe to do so and you were over the line. You were told to keep giving him the tow for a couple of laps since you were now on the softs while Max was on the hards.

However, after a couple of laps, something seemed off.

You pressed you radio. “It feels like the tyres are wearing down a lot more. Do we have something for that? I could make it to the end, but I might get overtaken.”

“We’re checking. Just keep being nice on the corners. Max has been given the go ahead to overtake you. GP will tell him about your tyres and he should help you keep going.”

“Is this the moment that the Bulls will switch? We know that they’d like to keep their champion at the front as soon as possible. Ah, there it is. Nice pass on the straight going into the fourth corner.”

GP came on over Max’s radio.

“Max, Y/n’s tyres are degrading faster than expected. I’ll keep you updated but she will fall out of DRS or any tow help in about five laps.”

“Are we sure there isn’t anything else to do?”

“Positive. You just keep going. She said that she’s going to try to fend off Leclerc who is gaining 2 tenths per lap but is 3 seconds behind Y/n with 10 more laps to go.”

Max watched you fall out of help-range in the predicted 5 laps. He could catch glimpses of you when he slowed down on the corners but that was about it. All he focused on now was being the first one across the checkered flag.

You were coping brilliantly. By going slower around the corners you were slowing down the tyre deg but also slowing down Charles.

“Gap to Charles and then Max please?”

“Gap to Max is about nine seconds now. And Charles is still gaining and is now in DRS so watch out on the corners.”

“Got it. My tyres are done for and I have no grip. Might be safer to let him pass. I don’t want to pull a George Russell 2023 Singapore.”

“Focus.”

Well, you didn’t thundercunt yourself into a wall, but on the first corner of the last lap, you had a lock up.

“That is a bad lockup for the Red Bull rookie and there goes Leclerc, taking advantage of the small mistake. Props to Y/n though for handling the car well and getting it back on track.”

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed as your car went wide allowing Charles to slip by. “Sorry for the language.”

You turned your radio off, a bit embarrassed and annoyed at yourself, not wanting to hear Mitch’s reply.

You tried desperately to catch back up but it was no use. Your tyres were done as you crossed the finish line in third place. You quickly turned your radio back on.

“And good job Kid with points, third place, and a podium on your first race. Congrats.”

“Aaahhhhh thank you team! This was an experience for sure and I can’t wait for the next one! Sorry for that lock up, we’ll get them next time.” Your hand stuck out the top to wave as you drove significantly slower.

“Wasn’t your fault kid. We’ll go over in debrief. Enjoy the celebration, you earned it.”

Max had already parked in the first place spot as he got out of the RB20. He turned and expected to see you in the second place spot, but was a bit disappointed when he saw his childhood rival. His heart sank for a bit as he thought you might have been overtaken more than once. But his spirits rose when he saw your RB20 pull into the third place.

He watched as you stood on the nose and lifted your arms up in celebration, put one down, and keep the other raised with a fist clenched as you brought it down sharply. He knew the cameras were eating it up.

If his history knowledge was correct, and it usually was, you were the first woman since Lella Lombardi to score points, but were the first one to get on the podium.

You were making history.

And the people were eating it up. Your name was heard above everyone’s. He would meet you in the cool down room.

He was escorted over to the weighing station where he stood for a few moments before going over to the cool down room. He was soon joined by Charles. The two stood like middle-aged dads who were watching their neighbors mow their lawn and silently judging them as they watched the recaps. The main one was your first overtake around the outside.

“Dang she’s quick in that car.”

Max nodded. “Her simulator times were a bit faster than me during testing.”

“I don’t know how then I got around her. Seemed like she was just falling behind the last five laps.”

“My tyres were degrading too quickly and were basically done by the time I crossed the finish line.” You walked into the room, sweat glistening on your forehead where your hair also stuck. Although you hadn’t gotten your second place, third place was still impressive. A smile was probably permanently stuck on your face now.

Max held his arms open for a hug and you dove right in. His hands rubbed up and down your back. Your gaze was now turned to the TV where you watched Lando and Lewis dance for multiple turns before Lewis finally took P4 on the second to last lap.

Charles brought you into a quick hug and kissed your forehead. You wanted to talk some more, but you had been queued to go up to the podiums. You went out first, Charles followed, and then Max. You stood still as the Dutch anthem rung, followed by the Austrian.

And now it was your favorite part. Your grabbed your bottle and shook it, before hauling it up on your shoulder like you always did.

The "champagne cannon" as people liked to call it. You showered the older drivers with the sticky liquid, but was quickly turned against and sprayed as well. You then walked over to the banister and sprayed the team below.

When your bottle was finished you picked up your trophy and made your way down to celebrate with Red Bull.

You quickly found Mitch and gave her a giant hug like you had done once you got out of your car earlier. Christian also gave you a big hug and told you how proud he was of you.

The night for you didn’t last much longer as the adults had said that they were going out to a club to celebrate. You were a bit saddened to hear that you couldn’t come with, being on the podium and all. But, your time would come.

And instead of celebrating, you changed out of your suit and fire proofs and got into comfier clothing. However, you couldn’t stop yawning.

Thinking that Mitch, Christian, or Max would come get you to leave, you lied down on your small bed in your drivers room. An alarm was not set.

Your eyes closed and you fell asleep soon after. Dreams of first place danced behind your eyelids.

You’d get there if it was the last thing you’d do.

skysportsf1 has posted

skysportsf1 we are excited to introduce our main interviewer line up for the 2024 season. David Croft will still lead our main commentary, but we welcome Nico Rosberg, new-comer Arthur Leclerc, and Jensen Button to our team!

liked by formula1_fan, y/n.89, charles_leclerc, y/nxarthur, and 22,830 others

formula1_fan YEESSS so happy to see this trio! maybe we'll actually have good interviews now

y/nxarthur this is just fueling the delulu

leclercbros4life so happy to see Arthur still involved in Formula 1

change_ur_f-car I know right! I would have thought he'd given up charles-marry_ME now he can be near Charles and Y/n all the time y/n-is_my-romanempire I mean, I would have liked it to be Arthur Leclerc "Y/n L/n's Partner" but we'll get there

y/n.89 THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE! WHOO!!!!!!!!!!!

landonorris I think you missed an exclamation mark maxverstappen1 I thought I was your best friend arthur_leclerc sorry mate, but I was here first oscarpiatri he would like to be more tho *this comment was deleted* y/n.nation UH HELLO????

arthur_leclerc thank you for this amazing opportunity!

arthur-4lifers baby boy is BACK

sebastianvettel good to see you here kid! can't wait for the future

f1_fanatic this seems suspicious

RedBullRacing has posted

redbullracing a phenomenal start to the 2024 season with an RB 1-3! See you all in Jeddah!

liked by y/n-on-top, lestappenlove, logansargeant, and 93,822 others

y/n.nation YEAH PODIUM AND POINTS FOR OUR ROOKIE

box_box_offical I totally see her breaking Hamilton's rookie year in points - place your bets here ladies and gents

charles_leclerc glad to share a podium with Max and Y/n, but tell them to watch out next race

y/n.89 yeah, we'll be watching you...in our mirrors as you eat our dust maxverstappen1 what she said

emotional_support_rivals loved the lestappen moment, y/n is their kid at this point

y/n.89 whose last name would I take? maxverstappen1 mine charles_leclerc mine y/n.89 you're both wrong, I'm taking Geri's :) arthur_leclerc hyphenate?

maxiel-lover that start, middle, and finish were just the best

y/n's_version I will have a new Roman Empire every weekend at this point

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 race one of freshman year in the books! first woman since lella to gain some points and first woman to stand on any step on the podium. next stop - the number one spot

liked by martagarcialopez19, liakblock, kellypiquet, and 73,209 others

martagarcialopez19 my hero and role model everyone!

liakblock mine too! y/n.89 gonna cry :(

iamred_iamyellow literally number 1 driver, max get out of the way

redbullracing ROOKIE! ROOKIE! ROOKIE!

y/n.89 ADMIN! ADMIN! ADMIN!

arthur_leclerc favorite girl *liked by y/n.89*

landonorris I'll get you next time

y/n.89 surreeee

hE_tUrned_inTo_mE this was one of the best opening races ever, that double overtake around the outside was amazing

y/n_updates this race is going in the history books

Race Stats:

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc +3.583

Y/n L/n +1.264

Lewis Hamilton +2.840

Lando Norris + fastest lap +1.264

Carlos Sainz +1.830

George Russell +2.375

Oscar Piastri +4.284

Alex Albon +3.001

Fernando Alonso +2.904

Logan Sargeant +1.992

Lance Stroll +5.932

Pierre Gasly +6.200

Daniel Ricciardo +1.209

Yuki Tsunoda +2.092

Esteban Ocon +3.871

Zhou Guanyu +6.997

Nico Hulkenberg +8.287

Valtteri Bottas – DNF

Kevin Magnussen – DNF

Driver's Championship Standings:

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Charles Leclerc – 18 points

Y/n L/n – 15 points

Lewis Hamilton – 12 points

Lando Norris – 11 points

Carlos Sainz – 8 points

George Russell – 6 points

Oscar Piastri – 4 points

Alex Albon – 2 points

Fernando Alonso – 1 point

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Constructor’s Championship Standings

Red Bull – 40 points

Ferrari – 26 points

Mercedes – 18 points

McLaren – 16 points

Williams – 2 points

Aston Martin – 1 point

Racing Bulls – 0 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points

If you want a continuation, read this chapter of Besties for the Resties!

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Two Lines, Two Idiots Chapter Six: Crying Into A Cupcake

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader, Twin!JJ Maybank x reader

TW:pregnancy, slight angst, very brief mention of abuse, brief mention of addiction, so much fluff and cuteness, I think thats all

Summary: You, Rafe, and the pogues finally find out what youre having.

Word Count:3k

Things have settled down ever since Rafe confronted Ward a couple of weeks ago. It's been radio silence from the older Cameron, though Rose has tried to reach out a few times. She's even sent flowers, but her attempts at reconciliation have been ignored.

If there's one thing you've learned about that family, it's that there's always an angle. Maybe Rose really does feel bad, or maybe she's playing both sides of the field. There's no way to know, and it's not a risk either of you are willing to take.

Since Rafe's 'family' is out of the picture and your dad is obviously not in your life, that leaves the pogues. So when you and Rafe went to your appointment yesterday, you decided not to find out the genders just yet.

Instead, you had them send the results to a local bakery which is where you are now. Your friends don't know that they're finding out what you're having today, and your body is buzzing with excitement at the idea.

You've never been a big fan of gender reveal parties and even if you were, who is there to invite? Instead, you're opting for a small intimate affair with just Rafe and your found family. The nice older lady brings you your order; seven cupcakes that are dyed either all blue, all pink, or a combination.

You thank her with a smile after Rafe pays, and make the trek back to the truck. He helps you up since your belly is large enough now to cause issues. You're glad that the secret is about to be revealed because even though you're only fifteen weeks, the rate that you're growing is bound to start raising questions.

"Are you excited?"

Rafe smiles at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road and he squeezes your hand. The route to the chateau is second nature now since he's been staying there; ever since the altercation, he's refused to step foot back in Tannyhill.

You're not sure what's happening with the living situation, but JJ and John B have both insisted that you can just set up in the spare room and stay there. You're not quite sure how that could possibly work with Rafe practically moved in and two babies on the way, but you've written it off to be figured out later.

"Yeah, but I'm nervous too. What if they freak out?"

Rafe shoots you a glance and shrugs his shoulders, not at all concerned.

"They will at first, but based on how involved they already are, I'm guessing it'll quickly turn to happiness."

You sigh and nod, nerves eating at your mind.

"I hope so."

When the two of you arrive, everyone is already outside scattered around the yard. JJ is laying in the hammock with John B standing over him, Sarah and Kie are sitting on a log laughing about something, and Pope is off in his own little world reading a book.

The scene makes your heart swell as you watch all the people you love most in the world in one place, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Ready?" Rafe asks, and you turn to face him with a timid smile.

"As I'll ever be."

At that, you take a step forward and plaster on your best happy face.

"Hey, losers. You up for some dessert?"

Your voice draws their attention and they all face you with intrigued expressions. Sarah catches on first as she leaps to her feet with wide eyes and rushes forward.

She looks at the treats in Rafe's hand with swirled pink and blue icing on top and moves to snatch them from him.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Rafe quickly dodges her and holds them up over his head with a smirk.

"Sure is. Ready to find out what we're having?"

This successfully gets the rest of the pogues to join and JJ wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"I can't believe my little sister is having a kid."

You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin and push him off of you.

"Fuck off, JJ. You were born before me by two minutes."

You can't help but grin at his childlike laughter, and bump your shoulder into his. Sarah looks like she's about to explode as she bounces on the ball of her feet and stares at the plastic container.

"Can we please eat the cupcakes? I'm going to die."

You laugh at her pleading and nod at Rafe who starts handing them out.

"Okay, on the count of three everybody take a bite."

You wait for everyone to nod in understanding and take a deep breath before starting the countdown.

"Okay. One…two…three!"

You take a large bite and stare down at the blue with sparkling eyes before turning to Rafe. He's got a blue cupcake as well, and the two of you wait for everyones reactions. You figure JJ must also have blue when he lets out a loud cheer accompanied by a fist pump.

"Fuck yeah, it's a boy!"

You watch confusion grow on John B and Kie's faces as they turn their cupcakes around to show them to you.

"No, it's a girl."

John B's face is set in a deep frown and you turn to face Rafe with wide eyes before leaping into his arms. He throws his arms up and cheers once he sets you down, over the moon to be having one of each.

Rafe had been begging the universe for a daughter; a little daddy girl that he could spoil and take on dates.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did they screw up the order?"

You don't answer your brother, instead giving them a second to stew. You see John B figure it out first, and he turns to you with his jaw dropped.

"Wait, are you fucking serious?"

You nod your head with a smile that puts the sun to shame and giggle loudly when he carefully picks you up and spins you around. The rest aren't far behind, and when he sets you down JJ grabs your arm to make you face him.

There's an unspoken question in his eyes and you just nod in confirmation. You see his eyes well up with tears and get concerned for a moment before he shakes his head and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Holy shit. You're gonna have a Y/N and JJ 2.0"

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks as you return his embrace and bury your head into his shoulder. You and JJ might have your squabbles, but the bond you have is one of a kind. It warms your heart to think your son and daughter are going to have a built-in best friend.

"Oh my god, this means I don't have to choose! I can shop the entire baby section!"

You let out a watery laugh at Sarah's exclamation and wipe your tears. She launches forward and throws her arms around your neck, joy radiating off of her.

"I'm so glad that you're gonna be the mother of my niece and nephew. I can't begin to explain how happy I am for both of you. You've always been my sister, but this is just a whole new level. I love you."

She whispers into your ear, and you hug her a little tighter as the sentiment causes a fresh round of tears.

"I love you too, Sarah."

She releases you after a few moments and goes over to Rafe, letting the rest of the group get in their hugs with you.

The look on your boyfriend's face is one of sheer glee and terror, and Sarah pulls him aside.

"Are you okay?"

Rafe brings his thumb up to his mouth and gnaws on the side of it, a nervous habit he picked up as a child.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just scared."

Sarah nods and takes a moment to mull over his confession.

"Scared of what? You've been ironclad through this whole thing. What changed?"

The look in Rafe's eyes is akin to a little kid, and suddenly Sarah knows what he means.

"Oh. You're scared to have a son."

When her brother doesn't respond, she places a gentle hand on his forearm.

"Rafe, you're not Dad. You never have been. You've made bad decisions, but you're trying to be better. That's more than he could say. I see the way you look at her. It's like she hung the moon and stars."

He nods and shifts on his feet, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

"I wish Mom was still here."

Sarah gives him a sympathetic look before pulling him into a hug.

"Me too. She'd be so excited, and proud of you. I know that she would have loved Y/N."

The two of them just stand there for a moment, finding comfort in each other before she pulls back and nods toward you.

"Go celebrate with your girl. This is your guys' moment."

You beam up at Rafe as he rejoins your little circle and lean into him when he wraps his arms around you to place his hands on your belly.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us."

John B is still in shock and you laugh lightly.

"We wanted it to be a surprise. Plus, we were still coming to terms with it ourselves."

He nods with a huff and Sarah slaps his arm, a quick reminder that this isn't about him. You all settle in around a bonfire, discussing the babies and what you all think they'll be like.

JJ insists they'll have his signature blonde hair, and Rafe swears they'll have his piercing blue eyes and irresistible charm.

A short while later, you're sitting on the beach staring out at the waves when you feel someone sit beside you.

"You good, sis?"

You avoid his gaze, peering up at the stars and trying to suck the tears back into your eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

JJ has always picked up on your moods at an annoyingly fast pace, and you sniffle.

"I'm so fucking afraid, J. Like stomach in knots, throwing up, straight up panic attack fear."

He frowns and pulls you into his side, his hand coming up to comb through your hair like he did when you were younger after one of Luke's episodes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He's always been so patient and gentle with you, well aware that you're the more sensitive one. You've always put on a brave face, but JJ knows that it's just a front. Under the surface, you're just as close to the edge as he is.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy. I just can't help but wonder if he's doomed. I silently hoped not to have a boy. I mean, look at the men in his bloodline. On both sides. One is a deranged money-hungry psychopath, and the other is an abusive addict. He's set up to fail before he even has a chance."

Your throat burns as you talk through the constriction and more hot tears fall into your lap.

"Y/N, look at how Rafe and I turned out. Sure, we're both a little reckless and hot-headed; but all things considered, we do okay. We both came straight from the lion's den and managed to make it out. Your little boy is going to have an entire army behind him and everything we grew up without. He's going to be the best, I promise."

You turn your head to look at him, skepticism clear on your face.

"You really think so?"

He nods instantly and leans forward to press a kiss to your temple.

"I know so. Have you talked to Rafe about this? I'm sure he's thinking the same thing."

You shake your head and JJ sighs, moving to stand up.

"I'm going to send him over. Don't shut him out, okay? You guys are in this together."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, and within a couple of minutes, Rafe is rushing over. He drops to his knees beside you, and his heart drops at the sight of your bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks.

"What's going on, baby? Talk to me."

He looks so worried, and it makes your heart clench. His eyes never leave yours, his hands on either side of your face forcing you to look at him.

"I don't want him to be a Cameron."

You immediately regret your choice of words when hurt flashes through his ocean eyes, but he doesn't interrupt.

"I don't mean it like that. I just mean.. the men in your family have so much pressure on them. I don't want him to grow up hard and calloused the way you were forced to. I want him to be soft and kind. I want him to be a kid."

Rafe nods in understanding before pulling you into his lap.

"Baby, I promise I'll do everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen. I want him to be happy too, and I'd go to the ends of the earth to achieve it. I want all of you to be happy. I know we haven't talked about it yet, but if it'll ease your mind then we can give them your last name. Hell when we get married, I'll take your last name. Whatever puts a smile on that pretty face."

You shake your head from side to side and stifle another sob.

"I don't want him to be a Maybank either. He's going to have a reputation either way, but at least with the Camron title, it won't be that he's a troublemaker destined to end up in prison. Neither of us comes from a great lineage, and that's what worries me. It's like he's cursed to either be a power-hungry asshole or an abusive drunk that steals and gambles."

He leans down so he's eye level with you and shakes his head.

"Y/N, that's not true. We'll build our own legacy and it'll be good and loving. Our babies don't have to carry the burden we did just because they share the name."

You nod, but Rafe can tell that something is still bothering you.

"That's not all of it. What else is going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

You hesitate for a moment before deciding that if this is going to work, you have to be honest.

"I never had a mother figure."

He catches on instantly, already sure he knows where this is going.

"What if I'm a bad mom?"

Rafe looks genuinely taken aback and offended at the mere suggestion, his eyebrows pinched together. Even in your current state, your hand reaches up to smooth out the crease and he leans into your touch.

"You're going to be the best fucking mom. You know how I know? Because of that right there. Even when you're going through something, your first instinct is to take care of me. You care for everyone around you, baby; and it's not because you have to. It's just who you are."

His thumb swipes under your eye when another tear falls and he continues.

"You are the most selfless, thoughtful, and kind person I've ever met. You don't treat people well to get something out of it, you do it because you have a good heart. You don't even realize it, and I'm going to spend every day reminding you."

He stops for a second, and you can tell he's debating on saying something else.

"I love you. I'm so in love with you that it makes my head spin and I can't make sense of it. You make me want to be a better person, Y/N. you've given me a reason to live and for that, I will always be grateful."

Rafe leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, just soaking up your presence. Really, he's trying to transfer all your pain and heartache over to himself. How can he not? You're his entire world, and if he could download all of your suffering he would without a second thought.

Usually, commitment would send you running for the hills. With anybody else, it's always raised alarm bells and sent your nervous system into fight or flight.

Nothing good has ever come from it; you've seen it over and over again. Yet, as you sit here in Rafe's arms you feel nothing but a serene calmness. You feel safe and at home, exactly where you're meant to be.

"I'm in love with you too. I've never told anybody that before, I've always left before it could get that far. But I don't want to run this time. I don't want to run ever again, not if it's away from you."

He pulls you into a sweet kiss, and in this tiny blip in the space-time continuum, every puzzle piece slots into place.

"I'll do anything I have to to make sure the three of you are taken care of. Our boy will be just fine because he has you. I'm never going anywhere."

Your cries have died down to hiccups and Rafe's heart feels like it's been pulverized at the smallness of your voice.

"Promise?"

He pulls back and sticks his hand out, nothing but love and soothing energy rolling off of him and into you.

"Pinky."

You hook your finger around his and you both kiss it, a vow to make a better life than what you were handed. His words from a few moments ago suddenly register in your foggy mind, and his heart soars at the mischievous smile that suddenly splits your face.

"Wait, did you say when we get married?"

He groans, his unspoken prayer that you didn't catch his slip-up going unanswered.

"I did. I meant it, too. It doesn't have to be anytime soon, but one day my ring is going to be weighing down your left hand with a diamond big enough to be seen from space."

Your lips crash into his and his hands encircle your waist as the two of you smile into the kiss.

"I'm holding you to that."

You squeal when he tickles his sides and his hand comes up to poke your nose.

"I expect nothing less."

@i-love-rafe @itsmytimetoodream @brynley-a-xoxo @whore4drew @houseofperfecttaste @everythingmarveltopgun @f4ll-for-you @athenabarnes @antagonize-me-motherfucker @writtenwordslover @madsnxo @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starrystarkey93 @keylin1730 @fulla02 @loving-and-dreaming @evening-starlight @ibleedcalories @badasspizzalover @veescorneroftheworld @pinkpantheris @brooklynscherry-z @starkeylover @sebastiansstanswhore @lothiriel9

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron x maybank!reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks

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centrally-unplanned · 8 months

Text

Another big stop in Tokyo for me was Jimbocho Book Town! It is a neighborhood of, depending on who you ask, up to 400 generally-secondhand bookstores flanked by some of the major universities in Tokyo. The local government even prints out maps of the stores to help people find them all:

Which, you will note, is not 400 stores, because the process of becoming an "official" Jimbocho Town Bookstore is an intensely political operation run by local stakeholders with tons of fights over what should qualify and what rights that entails - never change humanity!

"Book Towns" used to actually be quite a common thing, and they peaked during the literary boom of the late 19th century. Figuring out "what books existed" was a hard task, and to do serious research you needed to own the books (you weren't making photocopies), so concentrating specialty bookstores in one area made sense to allow someone to go to one place and ask around to find what they need and discover what exists. It was academia's version of Comiket! Modern digital information & distribution networks slowly killed or at least reduced these districts in places like Paris or London, but Jimbocho is one of the few that still survives.

Why it has is multi-causal for sure - half of this story is that Tokyo is YIMBY paradise and has constantly built new buildings to meet demand so rents have been kept down, allowing low-margin, individually-owned operations to continue where they have struggled in places like the US. These stores don't make much money but they don't have to. But as important is that Japan has a very strong 'book collector' culture, it's the original baseball cards for a lot of people. The "organic" demand for a 1960's shoujo magazine or porcelainware picture book is low, but hobbyists building collections is a whole new source of interest. Book-as-art-collection powered Jimbocho through until the 21st century, where - again like Comiket - the 'spectacle' could give it a lift and allow the area to become a tourist attraction and a mecca for the ~cozy book hoarder aesthetic~ to take over. Now it can exist on its vibes, which go so far as to be government-recognized: In 2001 the "scent wafting from the pages of the secondhand bookstore" was added to Japan's Ministry of Environment's List of 100 Fragrance Landscapes.

Of course this transition has changed what it sells; when it first began in the Meiji area, Jimbocho served the growing universities flanking it, and was a hotpot of academic (and political-polemic) texts. Those stores still exist, but as universities built libraries and then digital collections, the hobby world has taken over. Which comes back to me, baby! If you want Old Anime Books Jimbocho is one of the best places to go - the list of "subculture" stores is expansive.

I'll highlight two here: the first store I went to was Kudan Shobo, a 3rd floor walk-up specializing in shoujo manga. And my guys, the ~vibes~ of this store. It has this little sign outside pointing you up the stairs with the cutest book angel logo:

And the stairs:

Real flex of Japan's low crime status btw. Inside is jam-packed shelves and the owner just sitting there eating dinner, so I didn't take any photos inside, but not only did it have a great collection of fully-complete shoujo magazines going back to the 1970's, it had a ton of "meta" books on shoujo & anime, even a doujinshi collection focusing on 'commentary on the otaku scene' style publications. Every Jimbocho store just has their own unique collection, and you can only discover it by visiting. I picked up two books here (will showcase some of the buys in another post).

The other great ~subculture~ store I went to was Yumeno Shoten - and this is the store I would recommend to any otaku visiting, it was a much broader collection while still having a ton of niche stuff. The vibes continued to be immaculate of course:

And they covered every category you could imagine - Newtype-style news magazine, anime cels, artbooks, off-beat serial manga magazines, 1st edition prints, just everything. They had promotional posters from Mushi Pro-era productions like Cleopatra, nothing was out of reach. I got a ton of books here - it was one of the first stores I visited on my second day in Jimobocho, which made me *heavily* weighed down for the subsequent explorations, a rookie mistake for sure. There are adorable book-themed hotels and hostels in Jimbocho, and I absolutely could see a trip where you just shop here for a week and stay nearby so you can drop off your haul as you go.

We went to other great stores - I was on the lookout for some 90's era photography stuff, particularly by youth punk photographer Hiromix (#FLCL database), and I got very close at fashion/photography store Komiyama Shoten but never quite got what I was looking for. Shinsendo Shoten is a bookstore devoted entirely to the "railway and industrial history of Japan" and an extensive map collection, it was my kind of fetish art. My partner @darktypedreams found two old copies of the fashion magazine Gothic & Lolita Bible, uh, somewhere, we checked like five places and I don't remember which finally had it! And we also visited Aratama Shoten, a store collecting vintage pornography with a gigantic section on old BDSM works that was very much up her alley. It had the porn price premium so we didn't buy anything, but it was delightful to look through works on bondage and non-con from as far back as the 1960's, where honestly the line between "this is just for the fetish" and "this is authentic gender politics" was...sometimes very blurry. No photos of this one for very obvious reasons.

Jimbocho absolutely earned its rep, its an extremely stellar example of how history, culture, and uh land use policy can build something in one place that seems impossible in another operating under a different set of those forces. Definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

#Ash Japan Adventures #Jimbocho #anime culture discourse

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bonefall · 3 months

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I know you’re not rewriting ASC yet but would BB!Puddleshine be the kind of guy to agree with Berry to pull a ‘gotcha’ like in canon? Or would he agree with her wholeheartedly?

^^^ Actual picture of me preparing to wreck the "gotcha" moment in ASC when I finally commit to rewrites of it a few books from now

Gotcha Moment Bad. BB!Puddleshine isn't an idiot like his canon counterpart is, apparently. Fym "one issue" I'm still seething. It's one big ass issue.

Especially since BB!Puddleshine is most likely someone who would agree with Berryheart. He's one of the cats who ALLOWED The Kin to absorb ShadowClan, and he feels responsible for the death of so many Clanmates. He's blaming the wrong things, becoming xenophobic because of Darktail, and EXTRA distrustful of outsiders because of how Ashfur manipulated his apprentice.

I can't say for sure what I'm going to do with the Vote Gathering, because I CAN promise you, this is going to be a VERY important, climactic moment. I NEED to know where the arc ends, because the fallout from THIS event is going to lead DIRECTLY to it.

But I am thinking of options. I know that, by this point, Berryheart's hate movement HAS gotten Antfur killed, and there are direct, serious consequences for her political radicalization within ShadowClan. At least one person has been hurt.

So options...

She calls for the vote, it fails, and it causes her to do something drastic. I quite like this one because it would lead to a really good scene where I can make every major player state their exact intentions. Anyone jumping ship from Berryheart would do it now-- like Gullswoop, for example, or perhaps Stonewing. I could also have Puddleshine rule that because Heartstar is occupying RiverClan, they have the right to vote too. Which would make it EXTRA fascinating if it failed, and make it clear that she's not a tyrant here.

She calls for the vote and it succeeds. Just, an option. It might end up being a good choice to have Cloverfoot take over, but then IMMEDIATELY set Tigerheart as her deputy again. Show that she has disdain for her sister's movement.

Berryheart refuses to call a vote at all because it is a change to the code. I do like the hypocrisy angle of her calling a vote when these changes are the very things she opposes... but also, I kinda dig the idea that someone else (maybe even Heartstar herself) stopped some kind of attempt at power Berryheart made, and said, "ok bitch. let's do this like civilized cats. Puddsy, ring up that vote."

This is one of those very VERY sensitive moments that I have the "no rewrites in advance" rule for. So I can't commit.

But I am Thinking about it.

#BB!ASC #Better bones au #bone babble

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channoticedmeuwu · 10 months

Text

IMAGINING. . . SOOBIN W TATTOOS !!

p — CHOI SOOBIN × FEM!READER | g — suggestive asfff, slight fluff, s2l!au kinda, | w — sexual tension type like a lot, pool scene, mentions of reader wearing revealing clothing (again it's literally a pool scene), mention of cigs somewhere + not really proofread

A/N — based on a thirst trap I saw on ig you have me on chokehold for the rest of the month <3 idc if the concept doesn't fit I needed it.

🖇️ READ PART TWO HERE !!

PARTIALLY INSPIRED BY ARIANA GRANDE'S “BREAK UP W/ YOUR GIRLFRIEND” MV & SONG

you've been friends with soobin for quite some time now— you kicked it off at a cafe when your friend wanted to meet up after coming back to town. she had a few other friends there with her, choi soobin being one of them. “dude, you have to meet soobin,” you recalled your friend telling you, that you he was this fun guy with a great fashion sense, and you'd just brushed her aside, not paying too much attention.

but now, you kind of wished you did. soobin wasn't anything like you imagined. you probably pictured an average looking guy with a personality that reached depths, maybe wore a few fashionable pieces here and there. but you didn't expect him to have wear the simplest outfits, and yet look like— well, the way he did.

you eyed him in a white t shirt covering all of his arms, the thin material subtilty revealing dark outlines on his skin, a delicate pendant around his neck and fluffy hair brushed aside to make room for his glasses. and when he smiled at a joke your friend made...shit. he was kind of cute.

and soobin made his efforts to talk to you, but you couldn't help but focus on his body language— his fingers gripping his forearm, his jacket riding down to show a few tattoos on his shoulder— and you'd mask a smile at him when you'd hear him repeat a question he asked you earlier, trying not to focus on the way his hand rested on his thigh.

and you'd see soobin when your friends hung out often— usually sitting in one of the corners of the table where you could observe everyone talk, and then driving people home in his car. but, despite his appearance, soobin was a sweet fucking guy. always offering you a napkin at dinner or lending you his jacket on a particularly windy night.

and everytime he stretched while he silently watched everyone talk at the table, you noticed there was something scribbled on his soft skin underneath his full sleeve shirt. and he'd catch you staring sometimes, his bangs falling over his eyes as he bent over to tap you on your knee, asking with a small smile if you're lost in thought.

so maybe, soobin had been growing on you. just a bit.

and the night you left a party after arguing with your ex about how you don't want to “try again,” some back and forth between bittersweet, blaring music & heated expressions flashing through shifting lights— your relationship had come to an end as abruptly as it had started, and you intended to keep it that way. refusing with a harsh pull, you rubbed your bare arms as you walked away, sliding between sweaty bodies in the tight room.

and you remember taking a seat outside, trying to wrap yourself in a shawl as cold wind nipped at your bare legs, muttering curses to your ex. the uncomfortably irritating sound of a couple making out in the corner was making your headache worse, as blaring music from inside muffled with the blowing wind.

you glanced down at your phone, knowing it'll offer you better entertainment than whatever was inside, when you saw a couple of texts from soobin a few hours ago.

SOOBIN

[11:12 pm] hey, y/n, how's the party?

how was the party? you scoffed to yourself, cigarette smoke wafting around in the air as you twiddled your thumbs hovering above the keyboard, trying to think of a response— when you reached over and pressed the call button, not really expecting him to pick up. “hey, soobin. I know it's super late, but can you pick me up?”

and soobin's response was a bit delayed, as if he was shocked you called, but he replied with something that sounded in-between a ‘sure’ and a hum, his voice hoarse. “oh, soobin. did I wake you up?”

“no, no. I was wide awake,” then you heard him yawn. your cheeks flushed as you tapped your foot to the ground, “sorry about that, soobin.”

he ignored your apology, mumbling at you to send him your location with another yawn. maybe you should have thought twice before calling him at nearly 4 in the night. but you didn't know that soobin was secretly over the moon at you calling him, he was just too sleepy to show it— every second he got, he had always picked to be your side. slowing down his pace to walk beside you, or discreetly allowing his fingers to brush against yours whenever he got a chance to, had his heart beating like crazy. you had his heart beating like crazy.

and when you finally sat in the passenger seat of soobin's car after a few more calls he made confirming your location— fuck.

you knew there was something suspicious about soobin always wearing a full sleeve shirt even in the hottest weather possible, but last thing you expected was him having an arm full of tattoos resting on the wheel, the other out the window. his designs slowly circled and disappeared behind the strap of his black tank top. and when your eyes trailed below towards his sleeping shorts, accidentally catching them riding up as he bent over to lower the aircon—

you snapped your eyes forward, feeling a blush settle on your cheeks. your fingers clutching the end of your shawl tightened.

and little did you know, soobin did it on purpose. he'd seen the way you looked at him, your eyes slyly (or not) slipping down to gaze at his arm flex when he scratched the back of his neck or readjusted his hair, a guilty, dark shift to your eyes when you'd notice his fingers on his thighs. and was it that bad to admit he liked it when he saw the expression on your face lightly change when you noticed a tattoo peeking out? you'd slowly press your legs together, a hand moving to hide your face as you'd look the other direction, trying to focus at the conversation everyone else was involved in. but he'd see you slowly default back to him, and everytime, he'd feel a tingle in his stomach when you'd lick your lips, and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

“how are you? how was the party?” he gave you a sleepy smile in the car, his eyes glazing over you. you looked towards him, pressing your lips together at the way his hair fluffed up, his hand rubbing his thigh as he leaned his head back to the headrest, revealing the shape of his jaw—“good. met my ex. not doing that again,” you nodded, earning a small chuckle from him.

and throughout the drive, you felt yourself slipping into sleep, accidentally focusing on your reflection in the windshield instead of the traffic. your eyelids closing, the soft bass of a summer song playing in the background, the fresh car scent wafting around you— before the car would jerk, shooting you awake. “sorry,” soobin would mumble, throwing you an apologetic look before he'd suggest you lay your seat back, allowing you to sleep in a more comfortable position. and you remember refusing, curling into a ball to sleep instead.

and occasionally, a speeding car would pass by an intersection, and soobin would lean his arm out to stop you from falling forward as the car came to a sudden stop, a serious expression on his face as he asked you, “you okay?” and the two of you would trail your eyes down to his hand on your bare thigh, hearts skipping beats. and he'd snap his hand back, apologizing and trying to clear his intentions, when you'd just giggle him an, “its okay!” thanking him for looking out for you. and the drive would start again, and he'd yawn after hearing you yawn yet again, eyelashes bearing sleepy tears.

and right before he dropped you off at your place, he turned his body to face you, scratching the back of his neck. he was telling you something about not hesitating to call him, but did he really think you'd pay attention? your eyes watched the way his detailed arms flexed when he ran his hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the material of his shorts. your eyes watched the stars sprinkled across his collarbones attentively, wishing you could see the designs that hid behind his clothes.

and when soobin held a small ‘get together’ as he called it— was really a party— you thought you'd really never lived. you weren't planning on going, but after being urged by everyone in your circle, there you were, wearing swimming clothes underneath your dress and holding hands with your friend as you walked into the venue.

and eyeing soobin in the crowd, soft giggles and hushed whispers as the bass snuck up your legs— and you felt your stomach tighten when he glanced over towards you, a hand gesturing to come closer.

and dipping your feet as you watched everyone urge soobin to jump in the pool— him shyly refusing with a shake of his hand as he backed away, trying not to glance at you, sitting sweetly as your legs tread in the water. and he didn't notice someone sneak behind him, pushing him in, earning cheers from everyone around. and when he came up to the surface— beads of water dripping down as he pushed his hair back with a scowl and furrowed eyebrows, his dimples suddenly popping out. and he noticed you giggling as he pulled his top off, your eyes glazing over the chain that hung in the dents of his shoulders and collarbones, and he broke out into a smile, slowly walking towards you. “come on, y/n, jump in.”

you refused without actually meaning to, but then, everyone started a chant lead by soobin— and the last thing you remember before your ears crashed against the surface of the water was soobin's chin coming to rest on your knees, tilting his head with a smirk as he snaked his hands around your thighs to pull you in.

and everyone followed suit, splashes of water against your cheeks as soobin held your arms, laughing as the waves hit your face.

and everything happened so fast, his arms clinging to you when someone splashed water on you, or him wiping the water out of his face with a soft gasp. his hand on your waist, your leg slowly wrapping around his waist as he pushed you into a corner when everyone left to grab towels— bending lower, almost underneath the water when you felt his breath hit the cold skin of your lips, a soft, “can I?” as he pulled your hair to the side, his lips against your own, pushing you against the cold walls of the pool.

the sensation of the ripples of water against your hips was sending you over the edge whenever he adjusted your legs around him, softly smiling when he'd hear you mumble something in between, feeling your hands around him. and it was almost horrifying the way you could hear him kiss you, despite the music in the back, despite the water rippling around the two of you.

and you remember you snuck your fingers to pull lightly at his hair, the other hand finding it's way to tug the pendant around his neck when he pulled away— hooded eyes and cute puffy lips, his cheeks pink as he whispered, dragging your hand down his tattooed chest.

“if you keep doing that, we'll have a little problem.”

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny @kdyism @neotism @bluejaem @radiorenjun @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world @1921choi @bangchansbae

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

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adventuringblind · 7 months

Text

Drive with you Forever

Chapter 2.1:

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Summary: Max and reader go shopping

Warnings: mentions of neglect and abuse

Notes: I was thinking of that scene from Stranger Things of Max and El in the mall while writing this.

Previous <-

Masterlist

Clothes are something that she’s never had a lot of. Hanna had taken her to get new clothes as soon as they got to Germany. It felt weird having new things. Things she got to pick out that weren’t ten sizes too big.

The store was overwhelming and she decided she didn’t particularly like shopping. She basically lived out of Seb’s old Ferrari shirts. The fact that she is now growing so much didn’t particularly help the clothing situation either. Proper nutrition means she can actually grow like a teenager should.

Max had noticed her particular hatred of the store early on. Seb had to drag her to go get new shoes after she’d worn hers so much she’d put holes in them.

That’s why he started offering to go with her. Maybe it was just to many unknown people. Maybe she didn’t know how to navigate the world of fashion.

Max went with the Vettle family the next time she had outgrown her clothes. So much to the point she was wearing his. It did nothing to help the crush he had on her that was growing at a steady pace. That pace is more rapid than he would like.

They went early in the morning to hopefully avoid people. She’s still shaking despite the lack of crowds.

“Can we go look around?” Max asks Seb. A hit of mischief swirls on his features.

Seb is a little hesitant. If only because leaving a fifteen and seventeen year old to their own devices is scary enough, and Max tends to make some impulsive decisions. Hanna instead gives them the go-ahead. “Just don’t do anything Seb would do, and you’ll be fine.” The older male feigns a look of hurt as Max drags the poor girl away.

“To look at clothes, obviously.”

“Where are we going?” Her voice is everything to him. She’s so quiet and gentle. He’d settled a few months into knowing her that if anyone were to ever hurt her, he would consider murder.

She groans. Max’s baggy t-shirt hangs loosely from her torso. As much as he’d love her to be in his clothes all the time, his dad may wonder why all his clothes are going. A conversation he would like to avoid having for now.

"One day maybe you can share my clothes, but for now you still need your own." Max can't help but notice the light blush that tints her cheeks at his words.

"I don't like it here."

"Mind telling me why?"

"Well..." She hesitates. As if debating whether or not to tell him. "It's just that every time my dad went to the store he brought back, uh -" She cringes.

Max squeezes her hand in reassurance. "I get it. But now we're going to make the store less scary."

Max drags her around racks of clothing. Nothing crazy, she looks at t-shirts three sizes too big and exclusively jeans made on soft materials.

"Now we get to try things on."

She reels backward away from him. Frantically shaking her head no. "It's small in there." He assumes she means the size of the normally cramped dressing rooms.

He thinks for a moment, doing his best to find a solution. "I think I have an idea."

When she woke up this morning, she didn't picture herself sitting outside the male dressing rooms.

Max has taken it upon himself to try on the clothes for her. Every few minutes, he comes out in a new T-shirt that actually fits him and jeans that definitely don't.

It's funny to watch, and she can't help but giggle every time he comes out in a different set of clothing.

"I think I pull this look of quite well!"

She laughs hysterically at the comment. Max looks like he can hardly move. "Max I- I think I want to try things on."

His eyes light up at her suggestion. Proud of himself for making dressing rooms seem less scary. "How about I walk you in since nobody else is here, and then I'll be right outside if you need me."

The next hour ensues a great many things. Namely, both of them are trying on weird outfits they put together and clothes that are definitely lacking in comfort. Both kids are out of breath when Hanna and Seb find them.

"I take it you two are having fun?" Seb laughs at the ridiculous clothing them have on. The girl shakes her head yes with vigor. "As great as that is, did you find anything you can actually wear?"

She points to the neatly folded stack of clothing. Seb and Hanna sigh in what she assumes is relief.

"Meet us at the register in a half hour, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Max nods his head towards Seb. When the two are out of view, they keel over once again in laughter.

Dressing rooms become much less scary after that. Mostly because Max goes with her every time and dillegently guards outside in case she needs help.

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 1 year

Text

Being Sherlock Holmes protege/child

Pairings: Sherlock Holmes x teen!reader (slight John Watson x teen!reader, slight Greg Lestrade x teen!reader)

Imagine: Sherlock taking a liking to you and decides that he wants you as his protege

Warnings: mention of struggling with school idk what else

A/N so as always my works are gn!reader so that anyone can read them and idk this idea just came to me might write and actual fic about it (sorry if it might be messy, haven’t reread it after I wrote it)

I love Sherlock <3 that’s it that’s my actual comment

So you somehow caught Sherlock’s attention weather it be that you are smart as him or not doesn’t really matter, you caught his attention

It was at a crime scene in which you helped Lestrade a lot in the case until he contacted Sherlock, when Sherlock got there he noticed how you helped him get to the answer, or more like you knew the answer which turned out to be correct. Having known much about this crime and the people involved helped you a lot to solve it.

Sherlock who as usual tried to deduce everyone tried to deduce you and noticed that he couldn’t, or he got it all wrong, it made him more curious about you

So Sherlock decided out of nowhere that he liked you, he saw potential in you and wanted to take you in, so that’s what he did

If you were an orphan he got accepted to foster you, but if you aren’t then he needed your parents approval, which he got (with a bit of help from Lestrade and Mycroft)

The first week living with Sherlock was filled with him trying to figure out things about you. In doing that he did actually notice all your bad habits.

He noticed how you were stressed about school a lot, how you struggled with school, which he thought weird as outside of school you were damn smart but as soon as it came to school all went to shit

So he started (without himself knowing) slowly to help you with your school work, he’d say random facts that you would actually need to your assignments in which you wrote down. He helped you a lot that way and when he noticed he still continued, because he noticed you never asked for help. You were a lot less stressed over school because of his help.

After a few weeks he started to notice how you would make sure that he took care of himself but you wouldn’t take care of yourself, so he started to tell you to eat something, to drink, to sleep, like you always told him

The first case he took you to was the first time you ever saw Sherlock get “scolded” though neither you or Sherlock took any mind to Lestrade telling him of for bringing a teenager to a crime scene, you wanted to be there to help so what was the problem?

Let’s not forget that both you and Sherlock are greatly annoyed by Anderson and Donovan because if anyone where to ask the two of you then they are both bloody idiots who doesn’t know a shit, and they do call you both names in which are not to your liking

Changing topic a bit Sherlock always wants to hear what you have to say about a crime scene

Everyone getting worried by your antics of throwing yourself in danger most of the time to help Sherlock who is in trouble

Mycroft actually liking you, hence why he protected you as much as he tries to protect Sherlock

This was all before John, but when John came into the picture everyone started to notice how much Sherlock had influenced you and they didn’t quite know if it was good or bad

John noticed how he now had to take care of two children in which one was a teenager and one an actual adult, but both acted as children and neither could take care of themselves

Stealing Sherlock coat whenever you miss him

“John I can’t find it” Sherlock yelled out lowly as not to wake you as he knew you were asleep

John walked into the living room with a mug of tea in his hand as he yawned tiredly, it was way to early for this “What are you looking for”

“My coat!” John heard the panic start to seep through Sherlock at the mention of his coat being gone.

“Why are you whispering”

“Y/N is asleep, I don’t want to wake them”

John who knew that you did in fact steal Sherlock’s coats from time to time sighed at those words. John took a sip of his tea before he walked over to your door opening it to show Sherlock your sleeping form.

That’s when Sherlock saw his coat draped around your body, the very same coat he had been looking for. You were cuddled up inside it the warmth keeping you warm as well as the familiar smell of Sherlock in which had comforted you into sleep helping with your previous worried state.

John had left the door leaving only Sherlock who stared at you. He sighed, closed the door and went and got another coat from his room. He’d let you have his favorite coat for now. Unknowingly to him a soft small smile had etched itself onto his lips as he thought about the fact that you felt safe around him, after all that’s why you took his coat.

He gave you a coat that looked like his after that

Neither you or Sherlock would ever admit it but you did see him as a sort of father figure and he saw you as his child in some sort of way

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes x reader #Sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x teen!reader #Sherlock Holmes x teen #sherlock holmes x child!reader #john watson x reader #John Watson x teen!reader #Mycroft x teen!reader #Moriarty x teen!reader #Lestrade x teen!reader #Sherlock fanfic #platonic fanfiction

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directdogman · 9 months

Note

hello there dog!!! firstly, i just want too say im incredibly proud too see how far you have come, dialtown is so special too me, and for not only that game to be so loved, but also for you too be so involved in the community, is amazing keep up the great work! i do have a question, i am working on a theory pertaining to my favorite characters gingi/milton, and if i may, i have a couple questions about him specifically, if you don't mind of course :) 1. what made you come up with the design/personality of gingi?

2. what are your personal feelings/thoughts on gingi? are you satisficed with them as a character? or are there anything you wish you could change now? 3. this is a wierd one but, gingi generally does not really care what he looks like/what others think, so im really curious why hes so meticulous with making his phone/type head, and if he is so bent up about it, why not try to get someone like Oliver to make him a more proper one? instead of replacing the rotten flesh over and over

4. idk if you can answer this one, but i dont think it can hurt to try...was gingi around, before callum lost his mind?

if you cant answer this, then i have another, what flower would best represent gingi?

Milton question:

ok so....did Callum just straight up cheat on his Marla with Milt?...or am i mistaking something? what i read on the wiki says that milton and Callum had a romantic...fling?

2. did norm know milt? where they friends?

3. does mingus know at least some of the extent of miltons involvement with callum?

4. are there any plans with milton? he seems like such a cool character with crazy potential

that's my questions done, again thank you if you answer! and if not, thank you for making a truly special game, cant wait too see more gingi and dialtown in the future

1)Design for Gingi was primarily based on Frankenstein's aesthetic applied to a the chupacabra. Personality was largely ripped from quite a few unpublished stories/ideas I had before making DT. There's a few protagonists in other things I'd written as potential new game/story ideas that are eerily like Gingi.

2)I'm really really happy with Gingi as a character and I wouldn't change anything that I've established. I like how Gingi starts the game and changes by the end because it's pretty vast, but also not a complete change (and it happens very very gradually.)

TBH, outside of Gingi's interactions in DT, the fandom doesn't really know anything concrete about Gingi due to Gingi's poor memory. Until Gingi formed real human relationships, there was nothing to anchor to, just fragmented and barely remembered individual interactions. Honestly, the bigger picture is really interesting and I'm very happy with Gingi as a protagonist and I'd love to make sequels to DT as I've had concrete ideas for where the character would get up to in potential sequels for years now!

3)Gingi's flesh-head is a bit of a mystery. Gingi doesn't have the same adverse reaction to rotting things that most people do, but does have a general chip in its shoulder about being judged as lesser by others. Gingi (generally) does not make efforts to change its appearance to be seen as less repulsive by others, as we can plainly see from the fact Gingi often forgets (or refuses) to wear clothes.

4)I have all the main character date of births written down, so I could tell you Gingi's exact age... but it's more fun if I don't.

FOR MILT:

1)I'm not really sure why the wiki says that. There's no canon materials that state that Crown + Milt had an affair together. I think someone just read between the lines and stated their hunch as a fact.

2)Norm and Milt met but didn't know each other well. There was a cut mention of Milt in Norm's dialogue, but after a lot of head-scratching, felt the topic was too forced. Norm wouldn't have volunteered the information unless it was relevant to the scene and Gingi would not have asked.

3)Mingus knows about Milt, though not intimately. The only person alive during Mingus' lifetime who could've talked about Milt to her was her grandmother Marla, who was a husk of a person for Mingus' whole life (and in particular, talking about Milt would've hurt too much for her given their closeness.) Mingus knows about Milt from her obsessive study of her paw paw's presidency, but not much more than any historian/social studies teacher would. A lot of information I'd consider very important about Milt was never put to paper.

4)I'm not 100% sure why the fandom likes him as much as they do, given how little of him the fandom has seen (and how little information there is about him out there so far.) I just wanted a few references to him included in canon so I could potentially reveal more about him one day without fans wondering how this SUPER important character had never been mentioned. It's incredibly likely that I'll show more of Milt in future DT stuff due to how instrumental he was in Crown's decision-making + rise to power. There would be no practical way to expand on Crown without discussing Milt more.

There's a much bigger picture that the fandom hasn't seen much of that Milt is very important to, though it isn't often relevant to the modern day events of DT. Understanding Milt isn't important to understand DT itself, but is to understand both Crown and exactly how the world (and by extension, Dialtown itself) ended up exactly the way it did. And with time, I will discuss that some more.

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kerryweaverlesbian · 7 months

Text

Cas, invisible, comes across Dean getting reamed by Crowley during their demonic summer of love. He should leave. He should leave.

(He doesn't and they all have messy emotional sex).

You know the drowley fic I've been going insane over writing for the past few days? Here it is!!!! The Dog, the Lamb and the Butcher. Demon Dean somehow manages to cuck both Crowley and Castiel while having sex with both of them at the same time, and while being a bratty sub. Bravo I say! Here's the opening (Warning for non-consentual voyeurism):

Old habits die hard. It's not a phrase Castiel fully understood when he was an angel. He had often (to his shame, derisively) wondered to his Brethren why, when humans found that an action brought only pain and struggle, they repeated it over and over. He had been told that this was why angels were needed; to shepherd these stumbling, confused sheep back to the righteous path. Having now spent more time among the flock, and having stumbled himself countless times, he now recognises that it's not so easy to give up on something once you have begun. Pride - I know what I'm doing - cost - I've already come so far - and fear - if I falter here, the world that I adore will be lost - keeps the lamb tangling itself up in the barbed wire again and again and again.

He lands silently and invisibly in the first room of the motel Sam is certain Dean is in, from a sighting of the impala mentioned in relation to a brutal death in a paper from one town over.

"Shady Nights motel," Sam had said, grimly, pointing out the address on its outdated webpage, "If there's a horrible pun in the name Dean's going for it."

Shady Nights is sparsely populated. And, Castiel notes, flying to check room number 2, sparsely shaded. Yellow light from the street lamps outside streams rudely through the useless closed curtains of room 3, 4 -

Every light in room 5 is on. There is no mistaking what's happening on the bed. Dean, laid out on his back, naked, pushing his hips back gamely into Crowley who stands, also nude, reaming him. He knows where they are. He knows what they're doing. He has absolutely no reason to stay, invisible, watching it happen. It's long past the times when Castiel felt it necessary to sneak around the edges of Dean's life to keep him safe, and yet, well. Old habits.

Crowley's penis is thicker than average. Cas can see it's girth whenever he draws back, and how it stretches Dean's dripping wet hole. Whenever his balls slap against Dean, Crowley lets out a little noise of effort, like a professional tennis player in the midst of a rally. Dean's noises are breathier, his eyes closed blissfully like he's finally able to relax after a long life of hardship. He frequently swaps over which of his ankles is on top to keep himself tight to Crowley's movements.

The room stinks of cigarettes, sex and dried blood. Given the lack of apparent injury to either of the people on the bed, Cas is quite certain that he doesn't want to know what happened. Even the pictures allowed in that local paper had been...unsettling.

For once, it's something of a relief that his powers are depleted. If he had come to this scene able to see Crowley's twisted black rose form rutting against the bounds of Dean's watered down soul, he might have felt sick to see it. As it is, he can see their human visages, which are much more pleasant to behold. Although, Crowley's strong, meaty shoulder frequently blocks Cas’s view of Dean's face.

Cas circles around the bed, to get a better look at his friend. There's a glisten around Dean's penis, the aftermath of lube or perhaps saliva, suggesting considerate foreplay, and a glisten of sweat on his forehead. He looks innocent, here, guileless. His expressions shift and turn openly, his mouth slack and moving around only true sounds of pleasure. The only other time Castiel has known Dean to be so free of tension in his face is in sleep, but from the way the rest of his body pushes in to Crowley, he's not asleep.

To see Dean unguarded is a gift Cas was not expecting to find. Or to steal.

read more on ao3. Please read the tags when you get there.

#drowstiel #deancascrowley #cawis creates #demon dean #they're all trans btw. i elaborate in my author's note

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wheelercore · 5 months

Text

The Curious Case of The Dead Wheeler Granny

Also known as: I need to make a cohesive post that actually has context so i can add it to the ✨ master post ✨. So basically if you already know, you know. idk.

So... recently have been thinking A Lot about weird "production errors" (tm) and creel home fuckery + wheeler parallels. Its no secret that there are Many references to the creel home in the wheeler home for whatever reason, from the piano to the wedding dress to even the clock chimes (?) close to the the door way of the wheeler home.

However one of the most fascinating Choices was when the main urn that sat on the wheeler mantle place since s1 suddenly changed to a completely different urn during the convergence of the four gates at the climax of s4. What was the reason for this? It's also no secret that ST is riddled with what we can call "intentional" errors in objects, peoples positions, etc etc. But why a seemingly random object that has been sitting in the background of the home for 4 seasons w/o any special attention? And why at the important climax of the season?

Season 1

Season 4- before the climax

Season 4- after the climax

(and this isnt even to mention the fact that the wheeler dining room is covered in rose vases that mimic the OG urn)

If you reference this back to the mantle place in the Creel home... there is something quite interesting:

A few little trinkets, weirdly placed and evenly spread out. There is a little bird (dove?) statue like how the wheelers have two geese statues sitting on their mantle place. Next to that though? A strange looking golden vase. Mind you, this is happened when Virginia is having her "holding up the mirror" moment. As in this mirror is right there reflecting Virginia and this little urn-looking vase trinket and the rose-y wallpaper behind her (which is interesting given that the OG urn has pink roses on it with a framed picture of pink roses next to it).

Put the Virginia relation in your back pocket for now. Lets go up to the stuff in the Creel attic, which are heavily referenced in the wheeler home, in particular the wedding dress:

Where has have we seen a piece of a brides clothing in s4? In Suzie's home, where her sister Tabitha is wearing a wedding veil, and you guess it, a pink floral (roses? Honestly the color scheme is very similar to the creel wallpaper mentioned above) dress:

In which Tabitha pretends to die. She's not really dying. The joke here is that Tabitha's father had thought she was dying though ("it looked genuine"). And oh... is that the edge of a grandfather clock I see right outside the doorway framed right there this scene?

If I was extra weird about it I could also point out that the letter blocks on Tabitha's bracelet kind of spell out (M?)AMA. But its super blurry and I cant get a good shot of it so take this with a grain of salt:

A little sprinkle of Petergate here but Tabitha is a woman who was raised from the dead by Saint Peter:

Which I mean... If we're going to talk about lying about moms dying? The "Nanas got cancer" gag in s3 in which... Hopper lies about Mikes Nana being sick but then goes onto say:

There's nothing wrong with Nana

Mike then proceeds to repeatedly call him a liar. So... nothing's wrong with Nana? Would that explain the weird trend of people specifically lying over the phone about having a sick family member also in s3/s4?

(credit: screenshots from this @/heroesbyler post - unrelated to this theory, I just think its neat)

And if we're talking about lies:

(oh holly girl... wearing that pink + white outfit and that rose shirt lmao)

And of course: Papa lies.

(don't even get me started on how the grandfather clock most likely represents Brenner ("maybe hes a clock maker?" and s4 literally starting with Brenner setting a timer))

But this begs the question... If, by all accounts, nothing is wrong with Nana, so much so it would be like she was raised from the dead, then who's ashes do the Wheeler's have on their mantle place thinking that its their granny?

Could it be, thinking back to the weird trinket on front of the mirror in the Creel home, Virginia's ashes instead? Quick question, where exactly are Virginia and Alice buried? Did Victor get a say in his wife's funeral arrangements?

And if Nana Wheeler's death was a lie designed to conceal a truth and Papa lies... ah who am i kidding it was martin brenner. it was fucking brenner who else would do some weird shit like this. it was him.

Anyways things like this really make me question why exactly the Wheelers are one of two main families in the show. As far as I know they didn't do much in TFS, so hell, why not Patty? Bob? The Sin Claires?

Regardless, I would really like them to be kind and rewind back to whatever is going on here if you know what I mean

#rosegate #karen wheeler #ted wheeler #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #holly wheeler #virginia creel #alice creel #martin brenner

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befemininenow · 10 months

Text

Deconstructing the sissy in you (part 1)

Note: This note contains a lot of sissy captions from blogs that no longer exist. This isn’t meant for sissies who are still into the “lifestyle”; everyone has their thing. It’s for those who wish to distance themselves from something that does not correlate with their femininity, but has trouble shaking away their past. Being feminine is something rewarding and should never be humiliating. It’s part of who we are as people. However, take this note with a grain of salt. If you need real help, please consult an actual therapist in your area who is specialized in gender identity.

You ask yourself in tears “How did this all started? What can I do to go back?” as you’re viewing yourself in the mirror all dressed up in pink and frills, blonde wig, heavy makeup, and a cast down there. Your desire was to look as feminine as possible, not some kind of doll that others would poke fun at and admire. You know in your mind you’re a girl, a trans girl. But out of fear of being ostracized by everyone, you wish you can go back, burn every trace of the “sissy lifestyle” you were lured into, and come out to the world as a vanilla trans girl. Well, I’m here to tell you the truth: You can’t go back (theoretically speaking). However, there is a way for you to freshly start over again (realistically speaking). And it all starts by jogging your memory to the beginning.

You always had a thing for “feminization”, which is the process of incorporating feminine aspects towards any person regardless of identity. For a while, you enjoyed viewing others submit to “forced feminization” through transformation sequences because of a sense of dominance. It wasn’t until you realized that you deeply wanted to be like the “victims” and started to visualize yourself as a girl.

You secretly had feminine characteristics that you tried to oppress to avoid being called names. You know the ones: “sissy”, “f@ggit”, “wimp”, “pussy”, “girl”. That last word is what you hated being called, yet you did “manly” activities to prove your maleness. Outside, they saw you as a potential alpha. But inside, you were somebody else.

The MTF transformations in your feed weren’t enough anymore and suddenly you wanted something a little more real. Shortly later, you found out about trans women models and actresses in the underground scene and it threw you off at first. “They exist? I thought they were just fiction?”. Then, you started looking at MTF timelines, articles about trans people, and even a few videos about the transitioning process, including surgeries. It feels intense and scary; you don’t know if you want this. How painful would it be to give up “down there” for a rack “up there”? “Is there any alternative safer than that?”

Then, out of nowhere on your social feed, you see this image:

It resonates with you! That’s who you wish to be inside! She’s hot, and a dream babe! But more importantly, you wish to have a body like hers!

You click on the link and wonder where this image came from and you realize you’re in a blog full of “feminization captions”. You’ve always been a fan of TG captions and are open-minded for anything new. All of a sudden, you find another caption you like:

OMG! Another hot chick! “But why do I feel like I want to be her instead?” You look at the caption folder and they seem intriguing. Eventually, you found your answer:

“Feminization? I need that now!” You sent a DM to the caption blog’s inbox and asked how the “feminization process” works. The person behinds it send you this picture:

You thank the person so much and ask if they are this person or if they know them. Although their blog doesn’t exist anymore, they ask you to find a “mistress” who specializes in feminization. It took you a while, but you eventually found a sympathetic one and not too long after, the process slowly began.

At first, they’re quite innocent and truthful. You are a guy after all.

Then, they became a little more deep.

A little too deep...

Soon, they started to make you think deeper...

They’re right. Trying heels isn’t “gay”, nor is trying on her set.

Soon, your dreams became more “feminine” after several hypnos, captions, and training.

In a matter of time, your desires started to change...

“Wait, that’s not true! Or, maybe it is now, idk.”

“Sissy!? Ok, I need to stop this now. I am not a sissy!”

“Well, I do like being a girl, but I’m not sure about being called a sissy...”

“Umm.. mmm....”

Your sexuality started to shift. Men were suddenly so hot...

You never thought yourself with a guy, but then you started dating them, pleasing them, getting rammed by them, daydreaming of them. Your attraction to girls eroded as time went by.

But something has also been in your mind as you went deep into the “sissy lifestyle” these mistresses and besties encouraged you be part of. Something that resonates more with who you really want to be. Something more serious and life-changing:

You realize all what you have did was more of a distraction and less of what you deem “feminization”. Sure, the pleasure was great. The makeovers were amazing. The name callings were quite flattering. But what you really wanted to be was more in touch with your feminine side. What you really wanted was to become a woman:

(stay tuned for part 2)

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cursedcola · 2 years

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Prompt: What would they do to celebrate your birthday? Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Octavinelle, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasmonia You're Here: Pomefiore! A/N: Hey everyone. I know I have requests backed up to the nines but was my birthday and I need some comfort teehee (I am also SO mad that twst doesn’t have a thing for the MCs birthday >:( ). Some are longer than others because the inspiration train hit, but I really don't care. I love me my boys, what can I say? I hope you guys can read this for your birthdays and be happy :)

Vil Shoenheit

The weekend following your birthday is very eventful. Vil's a man of passion and glamour. I hope you are ready to be tossed from place to place, because you will be living quite lavishly for a few days.

Your wardrobe situation has been bothering him since you both became close. What better time to fix it than this special occasion? Vil treats you to a shopping spree, acting as your personal consultant and forcing you to model his hand-picked outfits

Some of which coincidently match his own. He may or may not discover how you matching his tie + cuff-links makes him ‘excited’

Whether he likes the outfit or not, you receive many compliments.Some come out as snarky quips with a sultry smirk, but that is expected from Vil

Did someone say spa treatment? Darling, you have stress wrinkles from being Crowley's lackey. Give him a few hours and you'll feel like liquid gold. The days go by quickly, and you sleep better than ever before. Who wouldn’t in a high-class hotel with sheets more expensive than anything you have ever owned? Vil notices the improvement by the end and his ego somehow heightens further in pride.

On that note...are you camera shy? Because for the grand finale Vil arranges for you to have a birthday photoshoot with his personal photographer.

The first half is only for you. He stands on the sidelines, hyping you up and critiquing the stylist's choice in clothes and makeup. Only the best is allowed, he swears it on the Shoenheit name!

Second half? He's in there posing at your side. The scene is set as a garden birthday and pictures are taken as you both cut through a triple-tier cake . This is when Vil presents you with your gift: a personalized eyeshadow pallet. He crafted each shade himself, and they're named after things that he loves about you.

The photographer perfectly captures your surprise as well as Vil's rare moment of genuine affection. The photoshoot was meant to be private but somehow that picture ends up trending on Magicam.

“I had hoped to selfishly hoard your beauty, yet it seems the media could not resist in taking it's share. Hehe…at least everyone can see that you are mine this way. Forever my little potato,”

Rook Hunt

Rook can be very mischievous when he wants to be. They say not to play with your food, but he’s always lived for the thrill of the hunt rather than the catch itself

Your birthday is made into a game: a hunt. He wants to shower you with presents yet simply handing them over would be too borish. So, what’s he do? Hides them across campus, that’s what. The first can be found in plain sight outside your bedroom door. Attached to the wrapping is a clue as to where you can find the next!

And so begins your scavenger hunt. To the cafeteria, the alchemy lab, the courtyard, training tower, etc. you’re sent around with Rook acting as your shadow the entire time. He ensures your safety while also admiring your reaction to his presents the entire time.

The last note sends you to Pomefiore, and when you reach the gates Rook appears out of thin air at your side. He’ll lead you in, and inside is your final gift.

It’s your very own bow! Since you cannot use magic, he will be taking it upon himself to teach you self defense and archery. There have been so many close calls that Rook does not feel safe letting you remain defenseless anymore.

“Mon amor, it is perfect! Not only will we spend much time together but now I can cease losing hair from worrying over you. It will be difficult at first but rest assured that I will be your guide on this perilous journey,”

Epel Felmier

Long before you became lovers, Epel was a simp. A big heckin’ simp that buried his feelings because falling in love was not very, “manly,” in his eyes. With an appearance so delicate, what would make you want him? Sure, he was not ugly or intolerable…but he had so much to “fix,” before allowing himself anything like romance.

This did nothing for how he craved you. Your attention, presence, great seven even your scent. The moment you would walk in a room his back would go straight and his well-crafted act of decorum would slip. Vil would then chide him for staring and for his vulgar language after being caught.

It was humiliating how quickly you were able to scramble his well-crafted mask. Just the thought of you deflated all his defenses. He was screwed.

In an effort at defiance, Epel swore himself off of whatever spell you cast on him. If you entered the room then he would leave. If you talked to him then he would only reply curtly. If anyone mentioned you then he would dismiss them.

During this phase he was still hopelessly in love. It was a moment of weakness when he found himself carving your face into one of his apples. Staring into it with displeasure, he wanted something more concrete to work with than fruit. So he grabbed some wooden logs from the fire place and got to work

Fast forward time, and many months later there is still a wooden carving of your likeness stashed underneath his bed. He could not bring himself to toss it, especially so now that you are lovers. So it sits there: until today. Your birthday.

Epel isn’t the type to plan an event. He got you a small gift, a sweet, and asked for you to hang out in his room for a time. His upperclassmen decided to join and were being nosy. Long after all celebration had ended, Rook was snooping and noticed something wooden peaking out from underneath the bed. Before Epel could stop him the figurine was pulled out.

You wanted it. Of course you did. Why would he expect anything less? It’s not like he can say no when you’re blushing and staring at his hand-crafted work in awe. He just keeps quiet until his upperclassmen leave, observing as you admire it. Silently letting his embarrassment get the better of him until he bursts.

“Y’know, that don’ mean nothin’!! What’eva weird thought you got goin’ on in that head o’ yours— quit it! You can keep it but don’ go paradin’ it around either. I—I’m warnin’ ya!…you’re lucky I like ya,”

#twst scenarios #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #vil shoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #pomefiore

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sushistyless · 1 year

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mist.

Rain can be a hassle to Harry especially because he’s always late. But when dark and stormy nights lead to finding someone a bit special, he has to admit, he’s forever grateful for the dark clouds.

(writer harry, fluffy & rainy stuff, 6k+)

my masterlist.

————

Harry always had a bit of a problem with being on time.

Usually, it was his day dreaming tendencies that conveniently forced the clock to tick out of his head, drowning the noise of the outside world and opting for the vivid, lively & observant fashion he lived with in books. The entirety of each minute spent in those worlds, being in some way or another -- a moment he would dream about later.

Most of his life was filled within his own thoughts & feelings, a curiosity stemming in the depths of his mind. And ever since he could remember, he'd been this way.

Much of his teenage life and childhood was spent in the city, the daily ways of hustle bustle following each moment. He loved staying there and is grateful for the opportunities he got — don't get him wrong! — but... he craved to have a life where things weren't as overwhelming. He wouldn't say he's shy, but he liked being in his own company, an affinity to observe the intricacies of the world and the different realms of literature rather than soaking up the role of the main character on centre stage.

He always preferred the quiet, and leaned towards the introverted, solitary life. And his job as a writer suited him pretty well, he'd say. Working from home, he didn't really have any events he could formally be late to, which is why it wasn't the biggest concern to him. With a ton of pent up creativity, he found writing (and painting too, sometimes) to be a wonderful medium for him to pour out all that jazz.

His first 'inspiration' for a lifestyle that 'called out' to him was when he was quite young. He remembers his mum taking him to a small village near the hills, and how his seven year old self was utterly enthralled by the beauty and charm of the place.

"Mum! Look!" he had said, scampering around in the fields while running behind a yellow butterfly, committing each curve of its wings to his memory, with pure ecstasy fluttering through the soreness of his cheeks as a result of a smile grown so wide. His mum was amused to see the joy that radiated off him– an amount she'd never seen before.

Later that night, after he'd finally (and very reluctantly) agreed to leave the fields, she'd tucked him into bed, warmth coursing through his veins under the cuddly comforter. She whispered, telling him to never lose that spark in him. He merely responded in a soft, dreamy tone, giving her a lazy smile when met with a kiss on his forehead, "I-it's just, everything's so pretty here! Don't y'think? Jus' wanna stay here forever.''

"Yes, Harry," she laughed, in awe of her son with a gleaming sparkle in his eyes, "And maybe one day you can live some place like this, alright? But for now, sleep, sweetheart."

And he had eagerly nodded his head.

Now, it was only fitting that Harry had bought a cottage in the countryside near the foothills of a little town a few miles away from the city. And suffice to say, he lived a happy life, with inspiration seeping into each flower that grew out in the garden in front of his little cottage, blooming with vibrantly coloured flowers, and in the sunset that came each evening. Dusk, in-fact, was the most pretty sight he'd seen in his entire life he thinks. No complaints, he said when having literal cumulus clouds floating around with rays of sunshine peeking through them, almost making the scene seem scrapped right out of a renaissance painting — the only lost elements being the angels hiding behind them (and, yes, he had actually painted that too).

Love also manifested from his creative side often resulting in tons of hand drawn pictures of different varieties of butterflies and plants pinned to the walls inside his home.

Harry's life was his muse, so each time he sat to write, the words just spilled right out his heart onto the parchment, staining it in perfect handwriting.

(—Or, in a less 'aesthetic' way, mostly his hands typing away rather fast on the keys of his laptop, periodically pushing his glasses from sliding down his nose, but hey, same effect!—.)

He eventually did start writing books and many collections of poetry, so he did struggle with deadlines from time to time, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't very bad because it didn't require his presence, he thinks, but it still required some time management. And he promises he's getting better at it.

But... we can still say that Harry had a bit of a problem with being on time.

He'd been standing in a little library located farther down the trail from his house (he still grins like an idiot at the thought of having his very own house), that stood on a street lined with shops and cafés. The scent of old books swilled in the air, vintage posters and dark rows of shelves matching the aesthetic of wooden floors and rustic trinkets hung up on the dusky-coloured walls. His fingers picked at the edges of the pages of the book, his third time reading magic through the eyes of The Little Prince.

He'd gotten only a little bit lost in it, his ring clad hand absently lifting the cup of matcha he had previously ordered on-the-go, bringing it to his lips and titling it forward, only to taste just a single drop of flavoured residue and realise that it was empty from the periodic sips he had taken with each flick and turn of a page.

Oh, he thought to himself and frowned. He hadn't realised that he finished it that fast. With a finger wedged between the closed book so as to not lose the page and cup squashed in the same arm, he fiddled to reach out to the vintage field bag slinging over his shoulder.

Finally, through the dishevelled strands of hair obstructing his vision, he managed to open the bag and get a hold of his phone from inside it. Switching it on, he pondered. It couldn't have been that long. Alas, when the screen lit up showing highlighted numbers of 7:28 pm, well, he was shocked (and glad there wasn't any matcha in his mouth, for he would have most definitely spit it out).

And, it hit him that he was late.

It wasn't much of a surprise that he would overstay past his intended time here in the library. But today was an important day.

He had ordered a record player a few months back and he was fluttering on the inside with a little spark. He'd counted down the days until it would arrive, smiling wide as he crossed down each day approaching it, and promised himself early this morning that he'd come and read only for a little bit, then easily go home before 7 pm so he would be there when the precious package was delivered.

Music was a big part of his life, of course. It helped him write, helped him imagine. Helped to dream a little more. And maybe he could even go as far as to say it was like fuel to him. The idea of his suited songs played on the vinyl was enough to excite him.

With widened eyes, he quickly shoved the phone back in, then flustered, taking steps towards the door. He was excited– sure, but he couldn't help and felt a little more doubtful and wary of the delicate player being properly delivered than gently held in his safe arms. It was expensive to say the least (top of the line and yada yada) and although it wasn't his yet, he already deemed it to be his precious possession.

On a normal day, warm, slanted rays of the sun would reflect on his face through the glass windows as he stepped from behind the cover of the thick shelves– but today was gloomy. A thick, dark blanket of clouds was spread across the sky, leaving no place for sunlight to pass through.

With having completed the satisfaction of saying a goodbye! to the store owner — Miss Akane, a kind and eccentric old woman who Harry had gotten quite close to after tasting a lot of her homemade sweets — he strode towards the door, skillfully pushing it open against the windy, mildly chilly air.

And that was when Harry realised that he really needed to hurry.

It was true when he thought today was going to be a rainy day. It'd be only a matter of a few seconds before the scent of wet mud would linger in the air. He walked quickly on the trail towards the mountain side, relaying one last glance to the line of shops. Harry usually caught sight of a few people walking down the street but it seems as though everyone knows that the weather is going to be stormy. He'd grown accustomed to the view by now, having moved to the countryside just a few years prior.

The fitted burgundy coloured chequered pants covering his legs, flared and shifted tightly against his calves, while his torso carried a very lovely sage-green vest, all bundled along with his bookbag tucked underneath his overcoat, effectively shielding him and his possessions from the heavy breeze and potential rain.

As he saw the soil being gradually dotted with raindrops and the plants around him weighing down with the trickling water, he knew it was even more important to reach home fast.

——-

Harry's footsteps become more sunken, the trail having become mucky and threateningly prone to little puddles as he nears his cottage. The rain races with increased velocity, the sound of it hitting the ground and rumbles of thunder providing a soundtrack to the activities and errands of his current life.

Harry reaches close to home, and he had initially thought he would rush in and worry himself, examining the much awaited wet box, because the past few deliveries he had got weren't very considerately delivered. He thought it would be sitting out, left in the harsh rain.

But really, he's confused.

He brings up his hand, the tip of his finger swiping out a drop of rain that clung to his eyelash, already squinted eyes straining even more as if to make sure what he saw through the rain was reality.

Instead of seeing a drenched parcel, he finds someone sitting on his partially covered porch, her hazy gaze fixed on the entwined hands in her lap. The light, pastel amethyst coloured shirt she's wearing grows the slightest bit transparent — not entirely soaking through, but sleeves wet enough to loosely cling onto her body — the expanse covering her torso accentuating her collarbone region. Her hair sticks to the side of her forehead, cheekbones glistening under the influence of the rain. Eyelashes frame her profile from the view he's provided with, cheeks seeming hollow like she bites down on them. A coat is draped over some large box on the right, evidently wanting to keep whatever it was dry.

She certainly doesn't seem like a delivery person, the lack of a uniform making it clear that a courier was not what she was, only adding to Harry's confusion.

Hm?

The little shade up front does little to barricade the rain as it slants towards her, the entire scene looking like her mere presence was magnetic to the forces of nature.

The ideas of why she was here and what his reply would be start noting through his head like pieces of paper being crumpled with each possibility that came up, clearly hesitant in the conversation that he already started in his head. Licking his lips, he readies himself to speak. What should he say?— the lack of socialising with new people peeking through the flurry of jumbled words projecting in his mind.

He gulps, moving closer until he's at a good distance from her, pace slowing down distinctively as his heels dig into the soft ground below. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, inhaling and exhaling before flicking off a chocolate coloured curl that weighed onto his face, curtaining his vision. "H-hi."

The girl's figure immediately perks up, a sharp intake of breath drawn past her lips, clearly taken by surprise as her face snaps up to him. Her irises have a wild essence in them, widening as they meet his own & flickering around, taking in his features before spewing words of her own, "Oh! Hi."

She clears her throat, posture now becoming straighter, her right hand comes up to toy with a crystal pendant adorning her neck. "Uh," she flustered innocently, confused while forming her question, "Do you live here?" Her body turns completely towards her right, eyes effectively focused on the door of the cottage, giving Harry an obvious reference. Her voice is low & fragile, with woven delicacy as if she's afraid that if she gets louder, it might break glass. Harry's sure that if it was any softer, it would've been completely muted out by the echoing roars of the colliding clouds.

Harry's eyes follow her line of sight, nodding his head at her questioning, "I... I do, yes. Can I help y'with something?" He adds on in the end with sincerity & curiosity edging his tone, still comprehending her sweet voice and sudden presence. He hardly got guests, and if he did, they were mostly his family flying out on occasions to see him. But they too dropped in once in a blue moon. He was, let's just say, deep within an area of solitude. So he was more than shocked when he found someone he'd never known quite literally sitting at his doorstep.

There's a moment of silence in their conversation, giving Harry's gaze enough time to wander off & examine the object placed beside her. The jacket had ridden up at the side, a tiny sliver of the picture plastered over the box making his eyebrows knit the slightest bit.

The girl, whose eyes are mostly just fixated on Harry, immediately notices and clicks out of the dazed dream as she fumbles through the blurry rain, "Oh, right!"

Harry observes as she peeps out, standing to her height, hands already beginning to unveil the surprise under the full of her jacket, which's outer surface is glistening with the water, while the inner remains dry.

"I think... this is yours?" Her voice tilts in pitch nearing the end of her sentence, questioning him with unknown facts once Harry's eyes land on a package with a familiar picture stamped on.

He remembers the same photograph that was displayed on the online site he ordered his turntable from, a light beige colour coating the artistic marvel. With the stickered details of his address pinned up top, the edges of the box had become a little moist and worn out, but overall in good condition.

His features contort to realisation, "Oh— oh, yeah! Thank you s'much." He says with a heart full of gratitude & sudden confusion, stepping closer to finally land on the wooden shaft of the porch and scurry beside her.

She sheepishly nods at the acknowledgement, busying herself to pick it up, the box seeming entirely too large for her arms to hold. Harry quickly swoops in while giving her a soft, grateful look, enough to not evade her personal bubble, but assist her as he quickly supports it from the other side. Her lips tug slightly at the edges, the moment giving her time to take in the ringlets of hair that stick to his forehead and making her smile subconsciously grow the tiniest bit wider as he retrieves it completely.

"I was actually just passing by here when the delivery guy happened to catch me, and assumed that I lived here. I tried to tell him— really — but he was in a rush and he... just kept it and left," she rambles, managing to sneak a quiet smile in there, the cold shaft of wind making her shudder for a moment.

There's a moment of hesitancy, the slightest second of silence wallowing in the air as she collects her words and gathers to deliver him information that might ease his apparent confusion.

"I didn't want to leave it like that 'cause it seemed pretty important. I knocked again but nobody answered, so I only stayed to make sure it was alright until someone came by." Her voice decreases in amplitude as her sentence progresses, speaking shyly as her irises stutter on Harry's frame for a second too long. Explaining the entire situation to the best of her abilities while still tripping over her sentences, Harry offers no response because, well...

What the fuck?

Harry is... at a loss for words, to put it simply.

She did all that? For a simple parcel? For him?

Initially, he'd thought she was waiting there for some help she might need. Then again, everything that had happened was all a jumbled mess in his head — the thoughts in his mind unclear to himself. He didn't know what he was expecting when he arrived and saw her in the first place.

But, she was just so sweet. The entire thought was so incredibly kind, and— it just swelled his heart with so much joy and gratitude. A lot of people have helped him throughout his life, but nobody has ever been this sweet or innocently considerate. He's just on cloud nine with the idea of being worthy of all that, with no part of his brain telling him how to react.

He thinks that among the pouring rain and rumbling chaos, he had the honour of encountering a literal angel.

When he doesn't respond immediately, worry quickly fills her eyes, "I-I'm sorry if it's not what I should've done, I just thought..."

"No, no! Not at all! I jus—" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, dissipating her worries as she visibly releases a breath. Adoration swimming through his irises, a butterfly induced feeling fills his tummy when he catches her wistful gaze drifting into the window of his soul.

The rain danced like spray, buzzing off the wooden roof & echoing through his ears, the sound of some drops sharper than the other- growing clearer and heavier by the second like the rhythm of his heart. The wind murmured to the trees, a whirring accompanying the puddles that began to plink with the hammering intensity of the rain, almost pleading him to say something— anything.

"That's just s'sweet of you. Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that, but y'did. And 'm so, so sorry I made y'wait out here..."

He is filled with gratitude but he also feels terribly guilty. It was because of him that she had to wait out for so long. It was chilly out and to be sitting out for that long under the icy weather, a sniffle would surely rift into a full blown cold. It's now that he notices the goosebumps trailed along her skin as she crosses both her arms in front of her chest in an effort to keep warm.

"No, don't worry! It's– it's okay. Really." She spares maybe a second of full eye contact with him, giving him a soft smile on catching the praises before casting off her gaze, focusing on the mucky shoes covering her feet as the droplets trickling off it caught the light. "The rain's quite pretty anyway."

Harry offers her an easy (but still regretful) smile at that. It was nice of her to try and console him even through small sentences.

"And... you like vinyls?" she converses curiously once her hands are free again, standing still with her fingers intertwined in her front once again. Harry can't help but wonder if it's a nervous tick she has, and he also can't help but smile a little at the thought, cherishing how he does the same sometimes.

"Yeah, jus' have some kind of charm, y'know?" The words just slip through his mouth like he's talking to himself, stifling his beam as his face drops to face the ground for a second, the faintest dimples indenting the apple of his cheeks and a simmer of warmth reaching them as he gives it his best to not crack into a fit of smiles. "Do y'like 'em?" He looks back at her.

The attempt at making his excitement subdued instils a kind of joy across her face, a honey swept tone coating her words as she replies, "Oh, yeah! Been wanting to get one for myself actually, but they're pretty expensive. Promise I wasn't stealing yours though." She chuckles a little easier now, knuckling at her eyes as a drop of water seems to latch onto her eyelid.

"I believe you. And trus' me, I've been saving up for it for months now, so y'not alone." He reciprocates her laugh, keeping it casual, but his mind internally goes through a shot of excitement.

"It's no–" she starts, a loud streak of thunder rumbling much too loud, cutting off the conversation as her widened eyes flit off to wander in the distance. Harry mimics her actions, the noise enough to demand anyone's attention. Her lips part at the loud sound, teeth digging into the plushy lower one, while the thinnest crease of worry lines her forehead. "But, um, I think I should probably head back now. The rain is only getting worse..."

It's now Harry's turn to worry, concerned because the last thing he could ever want for anyone is to walk back during a growling, full-blown thunderstorm. "Are y'sure? You're most welcome to come in..." he trails off, feet trudging against the cold floorboard as he shuffles towards the door, "It looks pretty bad out there. Y'can wait here until it calms down— only if you're comfortable, of course." He adds the last part quickly, speaks with sincerity- a genuine request on his part. And honestly, it's the least he can do. He knows that it was after all, her choice to wait here, but he still feels shitty knowing that he could have reached earlier and avoided her from all this trouble.

Her gaze is still downcast, an expression emulating the ghost of a smile, seeming like she's mulling over the options in her head, while her hands work to wriggle the coat back on her shoulders. "Oh no, it's fine! I love looking at the interior of houses —" she looks back at him with a breathy smile and a bit of hope arises in Harry, wishing she'd say yes so he would have some company- even if it was only for some time. She continues, "— But I really don't mean to intrude. Thank you though," she continues with a soft gaze, an apologetic undertone lacing her words.

His heart deflates when she declines his offer, the slight tug of his lips dulling only the slightest bit, yet understanding that it was her choice based on what she felt would be safe for her, but he hates to think that she'd feel like a burden if she were to stay.

"Please, you won't be intruding in the slightest. Honestly, s'the least I can do. Please feel free to come in, it's no trouble at all. Again, I'm so, so sorry." All he really hoped was that he could spend even a little time with her because he knew there was a possibility that he would likely never meet her again. But, if she felt it was safer to go her own way, he would respect that, of course, and just continue to think back to the small conversation they once had.

She laughs a little louder now, surprisingly to Harry as if enthralled by the amount of gratefulness and (un)necessary apologies he smothers her with, "Hey," she whispers, "I waited here voluntarily, so you really don't need to apologise."

His internal sorrow evades a bit when she makes an effort to lighten his mood, the tiniest blush threatening to creep up his cheeks.

"I know, 'm sorry—"

"Oops, there you go again."

"—Shit. I promise, I didn't mean to. I'm so so—"

"Sorry?" She completes for him, grinning like Harry's done the cutest thing and in fact– giggles. Proper giggles.

Can you believe that?

And if Harry couldn't take his mind off her presence, he surely can't now, wondering what he's done to have the honour of hearing the sound bless his ears. It's pouring, raining like cats and dogs, but this conversation takes him to a place of happiness where he imagines the sun would shine with the warmest, most yellow & buttery orange tinged glow. He just met her for stars' sake— he doesn't even know her name! But... he knows that he likes being the reason she laughs. He likes making people laugh in general, some kind of satisfaction hiding deep in his own smile when they break into laughter, but he reckons she was just much sweeter to witness.

Agh. He's such a sap, he knows... but he still means every word. Besides, it's in the safety of his mind, it's okay.

"Yeah... that." He bites his lip, hoping she wouldn't catch him avoiding her gaze. "Y'sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay," she hums low, words drowning in the sound of the thunder as it penetrates through the grey clouds once again. Buttoning up the most part of her coat and descending down the porch, she shoots him a smile, a small 'bye!' accompanying her actions of waving at him.

"Bye! Please be careful!" he adds on. It felt strange. He didn't want to say goodbye. The conversation hadn't for a minute felt forced and it's... something he hasn't experienced in a long time. He wished it would last longer.

"I will, thank you! It was really nice meeting you!" He watches as her figure teeters down the clearing that led to his house, looking back at him from over her shoulders.

"You too," Harry mutters, a smile taunting his lips at the sight of her doing the same all while prancing about in the rain. But as she leaves his line of sight, he wonders. Would they ever even meet again? A sigh escapes through his mouth, the slopes of his shoulders softening with a pout that stretches across his face. And oh, he even forgot to ask her her name. It was too late to do that now. It'd just be plain weird if he ran out in the rain and startled her for a silly question.

So he's a bit bummed. Still, he's glad that he even had the chance to encounter her.

Turning around with bitten lips after successfully manoeuvring the package so he could hold it comfortably in one arm, he shuffled to reach for his key, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking the door. As soon as he steps in, his senses are waded through by the pillowy warmth of his house, lofting with the homely smell of cinnamon and vanilla. It's nice to be able to come to such a lovely home everyday, and he's so grateful for that. Water drops drip down his clothes, pit-pattering against the wooden floors. A thud noise resonates through the room as he shuts the door, the cold ruffles of wind effectively shut out while keeping the toasty atmosphere inside undisturbed. A little fireplace decorates the corner of the generously sized living room, green plants sitting across the window panes that are curated with occasional flowers here and there. The sheer curtains don't do much to cover the view of the rustic French windows, earthly tears trickling down the glass as he gazes through the fluid stillness upon the field outside– the one that's usually bright and green but now runs dark & deep with water, the attire of raindrops looking like serrations of lines cutting through the wind.

He's quick to discard his drenched coat, opting to hang it on the hook beside the dark ocher coloured console that stands in the foyer-like entryway, carefully placing the box on the cabinet. Littered throughout the pastel coloured walls were various delicately framed paintings– most of which he had made, and some being his versions of the works of Van Gogh (big fan he was)-- all very special, having given him some kind of inspiration to write in the past.

Running a heavy hand through his hair, he shook his head, the rebellious drops of water splattering into the air. Stumbling to the middle of the room, he all but threw himself on the feathery hold of his couch. Melting into the softness instantly, his posture relaxes, as the brown of his bag- a stark contrast to the beige of the couch lands with a splat beside him. Eyes closing ceremoniously once his head rests on the top of the couch, the pad of his fingers rub the inner corners of his eyelids. Realising he has contacts on, he frowns and stops, also thanking his past self for wearing contacts– the rain would've just fogged up his glasses and he preferred to know where he was walking. Plus, he would've not seen her very properly and that indeed would've been a pity.

Deciding that the itchiness was probably a sign for him to remove his contacts, he lifts himself off the couch and makes his way towards the bathroom.

It's just as Harry's removed his first lens that he jolts at the sound of the doorbell. With half blurry vision, all the more confusion sparkling through his veins and messier-than-ever-hair, his lips part. A second later he scurries to the front door. Opening it up the slightest, he swears his heart drops to his stomach. He can't see all that well but when the familiar voice calls out to him again, he can't help but smile at the knowledge of who it is.

"Is that offer of yours still up?"

Harry's never been happier for having a problem with time, and greeting a kind girl at his front door through blurry vision and unruly hair.

————

"Have you really made all of these paintings? They're... beautiful." It makes Harry's heart hurt at the enthusiasm Y/N shows for something he does. That's another he's learned, the sweet girl's name is Y/N. It suits her really well, he realises.

"Yeah, s'all me," he shyly smiles, setting the mug of chamomile tea down on the centre table in front of her. She's sat on his couch, a blanket wrapped around her form to keep extra toasty although she'd declined the offer in favour of the room already being warm enough. But Harry had insisted and pulled out his favourite, fluffiest blanket.

"More than beautiful actually, they're just— you're really talented." She gushes, shifting her gaze from the acrylic pieces hung on the wall to the tea now placed in front of her, accompanied with a soft whisper of an oh, thank you.

"'M glad you think so." His stifled smile stretches wider on his cheeks, little indents beginning to form a dip in them, "I think, art is just so fun to do. Being able to express yourself in paintings, music, film, and of course, writing. Words are so incredible." His voice considerably lowers as he progresses, realising how he's started to rant a bit.

"Oh," Y/N gazed at him fondly, amusement tinting her eyes, "So, I've somehow managed to stumble in the home of a young, mysterious artist - in the middle of the fields - while there's a beautiful storm raging outside, then?"

"You make me sound way cooler than I am," he laughs silently, fiddling with his rings, "that is a cute idea for a novel though."

"It is cool. Maybe I'll become a writer one day just to write about this."

"I'll join you. Co-writers we'll be," he gleamed at her, the hidden knowledge that he could very well begin plotting a novel at this very moment shucked to the back of his head.

"That would be perfect."

—————

The storm brewed the entire night but eased off by early morning, the night spent with soft words exchanged, and conversations that flowed like the streams of rivers outside. Harry swears he felt genuinely the happiest he had felt in a while.

He also would admit that he quite enjoyed when just before Y/N left, he revealed he was a writer himself. She blushed, jaw dropped because she had been prattling on and expanding on the 'Mysterious Artist in The Mountains' arc, in a pretty... amateur way she had said.

"Well," she giggled, trying to hold a serious face, "Mr. Styles, I shall take your leave. Now that I am presented with the information that you are a wonderful writer by profession, I expect thy to write some poetry about me the next time we meet."

"You should certainly expect it," he played along, bowing to her slightly.

"God, no, I'm joking," she laughed back, "but it really was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for everything." Gathering her belongings in one arm, she moved to stand at the threshold of the front door, Harry's presence following behind her.

She was just so sweet, Harry thought. Her smile bought with it something so honey like, a warm ray of light engulfing the room— and the sparkle in her eyes, kindness. She was beautiful too. The kind of beauty that wasn’t so conventional, more so the beauty that came with love that you simply had to have grown in with each second spent together.

"T'was a pleasure meeting you too, m'lady." He continued, a sweet smile still coating his face as he guided her out. (And although she was joking about the poetry, Harry had begun thinking of the same idea before she even proposed it.) Y/N simply reciprocated his expression, silence between them while the birds chirped in the back now that the rain had cleared out.

"Hope to meet you again… soon." She added quickly in the end and looked up to him with a glee in her eyes, speaking softly, “Bye, Harry."

A sense of déjà vu took over as he remembered the scene similar to the one he experienced a few hours back.

"Take care, love," he said, beaming when he saw her walk down the porch and look over her shoulder, excited for when they’d plan to spend more time together.

Except this time, he would happily declare that he knew her name too.

————

SOO, here is writer harry!! honestly, I started out with this piece like months ago and only finished it recently lmsiehdsjhs and I wasn’t sure if I should post it, but here we gooo :(( very soft vibes, I think. writer h is just like that.

thank you ever so much for reading :(( I really really hope you enjoyed!! <333

read more of my work on my masterlist! see you on the other side ;)

#maybe I’ll follow up with a part 2???#also the ending seems so half assed I’m sorry sheushjs #anyway just thank you SOOO much for reading :(#my writing #Harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #Harry styles x reader #Harry styles x yn #Harry styles fluff #writer harry styles #artist Harry styles #Harry styles blurb #soft harry #harry fluff #sushistyless #mist #strangers to lovers

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