#how they met ghost lewis for the first time

[multifandomgirl08]

Ghost of Bittersweet Memories [MVS/BMS]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship), Charles Leclerc x Mother!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: A few of the drivers visit you and Max for the day before the next F1 season starts. You end up talking with Charles about a woman that he met at an FIA event while he was visiting for the day.

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: To those of you who are reading this for the scene in the Bittersweet Series. It's just the first scene, not the whole chapter.

Words: 2.1k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist Bittersweet Masterlist

Max had been getting phone calls the last few days from some of the other drivers on the grid trying to pull him out of the house to go to dinner and he wasn’t budging. He didn’t want to leave you alone in the house.

So, a few of the drivers; Lando, Charles, and Lewis said that they would stop by to visit for a bit. Max had also invited Carlos, Pierre, and Daniel but you weren’t sure if they would end up coming.

“Hello Y/N.” You heard Charles say as you stood at the sink.

He had been outside with Lando and Max talking about what they did over the holidays. Lewis was going to come by later with food insisting that you not cook anything.

“Hey,” You quickly wiped your hands on a towel before you heard a chair being pulled out. You looked up to see Charles's shoulders curled in slightly. “What’s going on Charles?”

“Nothing,” he said leaning back in his chair. “I need your advice as a woman, who understands how all of this works.” Charles made a vague gesture to the house.

“Okay?” You questioned back at him. You were a little surprised that Charles was coming to you with this. He could have either gone to Lily or even Sebastian’s wife with his question.

He fidgeted in his seat a little before sighing. “So, you know how there was that FIA Gala that was at the end of the season?” He asked and you quickly nodded. You hadn’t been feeling up to going because of Nikita. Max had tried to get out of it as well but couldn’t because of the award that he would be presenting at the end of the night.

“I met someone there. And I’m pretty sure that I missed my opportunity to hear from her again.” This was interesting. You had never known Charles to pay some unknown girl this much attention. He dated often but was quick to break it off when it felt like things were getting too serious.

“Why do you think that you’re never going to hear from her again?” You asked.

“She said that it would be her first and last time there.”

You didn’t know what to make of this. You haven’t been at the gala or seen Charles with this woman so you really couldn’t say much to him. You didn’t want to assume that it was a passing infatuation that Charles had with this mysterious woman.

“I’m sure you’ll see her again Charles, they tend to always invite the same people to those galas.” Going to one of those galas was how you met Max and you started dating a few months later. You had been invited by the company that you used to work for as someone’s plus one when you have gone.

“But what if I don’t?” He asked leaning against the marble countertop.

“Then it wasn’t meant to be.” You said, walking over to him and then lightly patting him on the shoulder. As much as you liked Charles, you didn’t want him to get his hopes up when it came to this women.

“You can’t know that.” He said back to you.

He was right, you didn’t know if Charles and this woman were meant to be. However, there had to be something there for Charles to want to see this woman again.

You walked to the refrigerator and opened it getting out a glass bottle of water. You glance past Charles to look at Nikita sleeping in his swing, the mobile above moving every once in a while.

“Maybe not, but did she seem like all of the other women that were at that party?” You asked him.

Charles was just about to answer before you heard the buzzer go off that was for the front gate of the house. You walked over to the iPad that was on the wall and saw Lewis’ car, letting him in.

Just after pressing the button, Nico came into the room holding his iPad in his hands seeing who it was.

"Mama, is Dan here?" He asked.

"Not yet Nico, but you can say hi to Lewis." You watched as Nico made his way over to the couch, putting his iPad up before climbing into it.

"Okay." You heard him mumble over the back of the couch.

In the morning after making Nico breakfast and giving Nikita a bottle, you had told Nico that Daniel would be stopping by for a bit. Nico was so excited to see Daniel given that he had just retired and wouldn’t be back with Red Bull next season. Nico wouldn’t get to spend as much time with the Aussie unless he flew into Monaco.

Daniel had texted you in the morning that he would stop by later but had a few things to take care of before coming over. You texted him back no rush.

“No,” Charles answered. “That’s why I want to see her again.”

“Then have a little faith in how the FIA invites people to parties.”

"I don't know Y/N, I'm not sure if I can." He said tapping his fingers against the marble.

“Think about it this way, are any of the teams changing sponsors?” You asked. Charles was quick to shake his head no.

“Then I’m sure you’ll see her again.” You hoped that Charles wouldn't fight you on this further. As long as the same sponsors were at the event, Charles would get a chance to see this mystery woman again.

Charles thanked you before a knock at the front door interrupted. You said, "Glad I could help," before leaving him to greet Lewis.

You quickly rushed to the door and opened it to see Lewis standing there with a few bags containing food.

"Hey Lewis," You gave him a quick hug.

"Hi, Y/N," He replied before you helped him carry the food into the house and place it on the counter in the kitchen. Nico had made his way off the couch and gave Lewis a half hug before running outside.

While you and Lewis unpacked some of the food he asked about Nikita and what it was like for you with the baby. You loved being a mom, the boys were your world.

The sound of the sliding glass doors had you looking up to see Lando and Max coming back inside with Nico trailing after him. Max greeted Lewis quickly and then insisted that he take over helping you put out food for everyone.

You watched as everyone else made their way into the living room, taking seats on the various couches that looked out into the spacious backyard.

"Is anyone else coming besides Daniel?" You asked Max.

“Pierre said that he would stop by later on, and maybe Carlos but he hasn’t gotten back to me.” You watched as Max started to fill the large salad bowls with greens, washing them in the sink before you started to cut up the vegetables that had been washed earlier.

“Okay, so I’ll have Nico go and set the table for 9 people.” You quickly reached up above the double oven to get a cutting board and then started to cut into all of the vegetables.

You could hear Nico squeal from the living room as Lando lifted him into his lap and started to tickle him before he started to laugh. Max moved behind you, placing his arms around your middle watching Nico interact with everyone.

You could see from just outside the dining room that Nikita was lying down in his little swing. Charles was sitting next to it, trying to get Niki to grip his finger in his little hand.

“Max, he had a strong grip already, no?” Charles asked after Nikita seemed to finally grip the Monégasques driver's finger.

“Yeah pretty strong, Nico was the same.” Max kissed you on the cheek before walking closer to Charles, Nikita seemed to still be asleep for now.

“I really don’t know how you do it,” Lando said to Max with Nico in his arms. “These two and racing,” There was a ring coming from the iPad. Someone else was here.

Max was quick to walk to where the iPad was on the wall to let the person pass the gate. You looked over at Max quickly and saw him mouth “Daniel,” but Nico was too busy being passed over to Lewis to notice.

“One day you will understand Lando. But, it won't be forever.” It did get tough at times, and this year would truly be a test of that. You were at home by yourself with the boys and the help of Sylvie, while Max was working. You could tell that for the next year, it would just be the four of you.

Daniel had walked through the door a few moments later holding a bottle of wine, and a box of desserts in his hands. Nico asked Lewis to put him on the ground before Nico fully sprinted over to Daniel to say hello. Just as Nico reached Daniel, the Aussie had placed the box and the bottle down before embracing the little boy.

"Mini Max," Daniel said just after Nico reached his arms being the first person to greet him. Daniel lifted him in his arms and hugged him tight to his chest.

"Daniel!" Nico yelled. You glance over to Nikita to see him shift in his swing before settling again, grateful that he didn't wake up.

"Did you enjoy your holiday with Mama and Papa?" Daniel asked him. Nico enthusiastically nodded. Nico's chubby cheeks were flushed pink.

Daniel looked up to you and Max, giving both of you a quick "Hello," of acknowledgment and whisking Nico into the living room.

"I always find it interesting that once Nico sees Daniel, it's like he forgets about everyone else," Lando said before pulling out one of the bar stools in the kitchen.

Max gave Lando a shrug not bothering to say why that was. For the first half of the year that Max knew about Nico, Daniel was the only person on the grid who knew about him, making Nico and Daniel very close.

It took another half an hour to get food put out on the table outside, Nico insisted on sitting next to Daniel at the table. Max was sitting at the head of the table while you sat to his left.

Once everyone filled the plates with food, they all broke into little groups of conversation. Sylvie had come outside holding Nikita to tell you that someone was waiting at the front gate. You insisted that Sylvie join in but she was just on her way out to go back home for the day. Max unlocked his phone letting them in, it was Pierre who was fashionably late.

Daniel had asked if he could hold Nikita while Max let Pierre inside. You heard a few words being exchanged in French before Max was back with Pierre who moved to sit beside Lando and Charles.

“I swear, you guys are going to have a little clone army.” Daniel said to you.

“You should not say this Daniel.” Max said sitting back in his seat.

“Why not?” He fired back resting Nikita against his shoulder. “You see this right.” Pointing down at Nikita.

“He looks just like Max, again. You should try for a girl next, see if the Verstappen genes win out again.”

You and Max weren’t in a rush to have more kids right now. Having two was enough for now. Even if you both were open to the idea of more eventually.

“You can’t know if we'll have a girl next.” You spoke up. There was no real way of knowing if the next child you had would be a girl unless you went through a few extra measures. You were more than okay with leaving the gender of your children to chance.

Max shook his head at Daniel before changing the subject. The sounds of forks and knives hitting plates gave off a easy hum in the warm Monaco air.

Lando ended up taking Nikita from Daniel after a while, hinting at the idea of the next baby you had being named after him before Max told him that he would need to get in line as Martin was next on the list. To that, Lando gave a shrug and a, "I see how it is."

The guys stayed for a while longer, Pierre ended up catching you in the kitchen asking if he could have Sylvie's number. You weren't sure if you wanted to expose your lovely nanny to the likes of Pierre after just meeting him. You rebuffed his question and told him to ask her himself the next time that he saw her. You weren't going to get in the middle of this.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081

Bittersweet taglist: @omgsuperstarg, @bite-me-en-la-boca, @itsjustkhaos, @janeholt3, @cixrosie, @taylorslovesswifties13

#mini verstappen series #bittersweet mini series #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #f1 x reader

[thisismeracing]

Haunted | LH44

― Pairing: Ghost!Lewis x fem!reader ― Word count: 3.8k ― Warnings: +18; suggestive content and graphic description of sex (fingering and dirty talk); mentions of cheating; description of horror situations and stabbing (but not too graphic). ― Summary: Lost in the years, lost in the days, Lewis Hamilton haunts the house that once was his. The house where he was killed. And the house that now has new inhabitants. He was used to blowing candles, breaking chinas, and it being enough for the curious newbies to leave. However, it was the first time he met someone who wouldn’t act terrified by his presence. Yn was curious, and that curiosity had a price. Lewis was the one who would collect the debt.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

It was a cursed house.

The tale was that a rich man used to live there. He was beautiful. So beautiful the whole town knew who he was. He was also warm and compassionate, he would help old ladies with bags, walk the neighbor’s dog, share his famous coffee whenever he had the time, and help the young boys with driving classes. But his beauty was also his curse because someone’s wife fell in love with him, and as the saying goes, there are two things you cannot hide properly: a cough and a burning love. It wasn’t even a week after the man noticed how his lady would eye the town’s treasure. It was possible the young gentleman didn’t know about this infatuation, but the woman’s husband knew and it was enough for him to stab the man to death in the most brutal way. Rumor had it he tried to get up and walk, but he could only make it to the door of his room, his body collapsing and succumbing to death minutes after agonizing with his own blood. The houses were far one from the other, but his screams were so loud some of the neighbors heard them even after he passed away, haunted by his pleas they moved.

The house went for sale, and someone even bought it a year after the crime, but they did not last for a week, the ghost of the dead man haunted the place day and night moving things, opening and closing doors, as if inviting whoever was there to leave, and when his requests were not obeyed, he would riot. In the night, his screams would get louder, he would grab their feet, play with the TV’s remote, boil water, and let the windows open.

They say he’s an angry ghost, a miserable one because he never got to experience true love. He was killed before he could, and so he closed himself on the house he took so much care while in life. His garden was the most beautiful one. Full of dark roses, and big trees, but once he died so did the flowers. It was like everything rotted.

Yn sighed thinking about the story an old lady told her when she went to get groceries. The woman went as far as advising her to leave the house, the money be damned. But of course, Yn wouldn’t do it. The house cost money for her and her husband, Eric. And besides, she had always been curious about ghost stories. Never truly believed how dangerous it could get.

“And she told me some people still hear his screams when passing by the house,” Yn repeated the tale to Eric while they shared take-out on the living room floor. The fire was lit casting a warm glow around then, but she felt a brief shiver pass through her body as soon as she finished speaking.

The ginger laughed, “Did she tell you when it happened?”

“A long time ago, she didn’t- she didn’t mention the year,” Yn explained. “Why? Don’t you believe it?”

He shook his head, “Nah, you know I’m extremely skeptical about those fairy things.”

“Not fairies, Eric, but ghosts,” she tried.

He shrugged, “I think when we die, we die, period. There’s no second or third dimension, much less one in between to get stuck on.”

Yn nodded, knowing it wouldn’t be a productive conversation. Her husband was usually set on his beliefs, never straying away from them, and sometimes this would cost a peaceful night whenever they couldn’t agree on something. He would have a hard time comprehending her point of view.

“So what, you wanna move now? You’re afraid a bloody man is gonna show up and imprison you here?” Eric joshed.

Yn rolled her eyes tired of how pushy he could get. She loved him, but sometimes it was hell to deal with his mannerisms. When they were younger she thought it would change with time. Turns out it didn’t.

“It’s your turn to clean up, I’m heading to bed,” and pecking his lips she climbed the stairs leading to the long and dark corridor of the rooms. Yn stopped right at the door, watching the threshold and imagining how, even if years ago, someone died there. Right in between. Reaching for the outside. Screaming for help.

She sighed, starting her night routine. It was only their second week at the house, and she was used to how the bathroom lights would flash, or the water would lessen. Except, now she knew about the guy that died there, and everything that happened reminded her of him.

It’s curious how your mindset changes once you’re presented with a different explanation. Once you believe it to be true. And she believed so much to the point of googling it while lying in bed. Eric hadn’t been back just yet, and Yn was scrolling through the results which weren’t that many. It was a small town. Apparently a simple crime. It was probably life-altering and shocking for those who lived there at the time and knew both parties, but if she were a journalist that wouldn’t be the most exciting case to cover.

Yn heard the footsteps on the corridor, but she was so engrossed in the page that she finally found out about the murder of a young man, and just when she was about to reach his name the door opened. She bit her lips, trying to find which line she was reading, “Eric?” Yn asked, and the same door that opened all the way seconds ago closed abruptly making her jump.

The light on the nightstand flashed, and Yn tried to be rational. She told herself it was probably Eric trying to prank her. Or the wind, even though the windows were closed. Who knew? The house had a good ventilating system.

She called for her husband again, and she heard more footsteps, but he didn’t answer back. She huffed stressed, blocking her phone and turning on the bed to try and get some sleep. She had tons of cleaning to do the next day, the house was huge and some of her things were still packed in cardboxes.

Later, when Eric finally got to the bedroom, he walked by the bed squeezing her foot, a habit he had whenever he passed close enough to touch, and seconds before, when he crawled into bed Yn was too drowsy to complain about his stupid pranks. She just curled her body on his and dozed off.

She was humming to a tune she couldn’t quite grasp yet while folding her clothes on her bed when she heard the steps. She tried turning to look, but it all happened too fast. In the blink of an eye, she felt the sting on her back, so close to her neck it felt almost like when sunlight hit that particular spot. She held back a groan but screamed the second that same sting hit full force, this time on the left side of her shoulders. When Yn turned, feeling the tickles of hot blood run down her back, she saw a man with so much rage in his eyes that it was like he was hitting her over and over again on the same spot. But in reality, his hands went up holding a bloody knife, and he stabbed her in a series of different places. She screamed, cried, and asked between coughs why her, why he was doing it, why a knife, why so many hits, why why why? And when no answer came from his mouth except grunts she knew there was nothing to do but to run for her life. She stumbled in the direction of the bedroom door, feeling yet another series of stings on her back. She tried to run, but her own blood betrayed her and she slipped on it. The feeling of the hot liquid against her hands and cheeks made her scream harder for help. But no one came, and the stab continued. She tried crawling. Tried praying. Tried begging for her life or at least to stop and let her die in pieces, but it went on until darkness surrounded her. She weakly turned her arm in the direction of her killer, digging her nails into the skin of his forearm and dragging as if telling him something. And when darkness surrounded her she kept screaming and twisting her body.

“Yn, wake up! It’s me! Wake up, dammit!” Erik tried while Yn relentlessly twisted on the bed. “Wake up, Yn,” he tried louder and she jumped out of bed taking part of the covers with her and almost falling to the ground.

“Omg, omg,” she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, looking around her room and noticing there were no clothes to be folded or blood spots on the ground. Only her scared husband staring at her from his spot on the bed.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know,” she holds the covers closer to her body, trying to make herself smaller. “I had a nightmare, but it was so real, so real I-”

Erik sighed, “You shouldn’t have entertained that crazy lady at the supermarket, now you’re convinced and thinking there’s a ghost in the house, as if there are ghosts at all!”

Yn shook her head, but kept her mouth shut, standing glued on her spot and assessing the whole room all over again. It was this room. This exact same room was the one she was standing in in her nightmare, and possibly the room where the guy was killed. Her phone lit up on the nightstand, there were no new notifications, and when she unlocked it her browser was still open on the article about the case. She locked it again and took a step back.

“What was it now, babe?” Erik was clearly frustrated, he hated being woken up especially in the middle of the night, and especially in a scary situation like the one he just watched happen.

“Nothing, I- uhm- I should try sleeping again,” she stated, getting under the covers and lying beside him, when her back hit the mattress she swore she felt a small sting, but she kept her mouth shut and closed her eyes, trying to sleep it off.

When the morning came and the sun peeked through the blinds, Yn descended the stairs to the kitchen, stopping at the door and staring at the mess her husband, who was supposed to clean the dishes and discard the takeout containers, left.

Sighing, started the coffee machine, and a few minutes later Eric showed up in the kitchen, rubbing the sleep of his eyes.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, good morning, you probably had a blast last night watching TV instead of cleaning the kitchen,” she spat, and he arched his brows.

“I did clean the kitchen!”

“Then who messed it up? A ghost?!” she bit back, pointing to the takeout containers on the counter and the dirty dishes pilling on the sink.

Eric rubbed his temple, before walking to the coffee machine. He hated coffee, and the second he poured a cup Yn knew he was stressed, “I cleaned everything, I remember doing it before also cleaning the living room, that’s why I got to the bedroom so long after you.”

Yn saw a hint of truth behind his statement, but shook her head, starting to discard the cans and plastic wrappers in the trash. She watched from her peripheral vision her husband grab an apple and drown his coffee in one go before leaving the room.

Protected from the cold air by a thin robe, Yn ate breakfast peacefully watching the destroyed backyard of her new house. She could see the spots where plants once were, now involved by tall weeds and dark unkept grass. A three with a swing attached to it was hanging on by a thread.

She took notes of things she wanted to renovate and what she wanted to plant where, before getting inside to a virtual work meeting.

The day went on without events. At night she shared dinner with Eric again, and it was her turn to clean the kitchen. She did it alone on the ground floor, Eric in their room doing some readings or whatever. She finished in less than an hour and then went to bed. Her mind and body were tired after not sleeping properly the other night, so when Yn hit the mattress she was out cold faster than you could say “good night”.

His eyes were covered by the shadows, but she could tell he had a thoughtful expression by looking at his eyebrows. He was taller than her, she could tell, and he was broad. Lean and strong arms, chiseled jaw, and pretty dark skin.

Yn tried opening her mouth to ask who he was. What he was doing standing at her bedroom door, but his stare was so intense she couldn’t do anything but look back at him, and as the saying goes once you look something in the face, once you stare too long into the abyss, it looks back. It starts to truly exist.

Her week goes by with lonely days and strange nights. She keeps dreaming about the guy standing on her bedroom door and keeps hearing steps, and hushed voices. Sometimes she’ll live that stabbing nightmare all over again. Some hours, she’ll work on her computer, and though there’s a sense of loneliness, there’s also a sense of company, as if she was being watched.

It would scare anyone in their right mind, but Yn tried to rationalize things. And the things she couldn’t, she just let them be. Sometimes, you have to accept that you’re not supposed to understand everything. Life has its mysteries, and so did her new house.

Things with Eric were going downhill, and they were spending less and less time together. But it wasn’t anything new, and he was busy with work. They were both busy. Yn tried to tell herself. Feeling lonely would explain how her brain threw her into a heated dream.

It was the first time she was able to produce a sound in her dream. It was a simple “a” that passed between her open lips. And so as it happens, it was also the first time the man by the door moved. His eyes never left hers while he walked to the foot of the bed. He wandered as if he knew the place and setting of everything. Like he lived there for centuries. And when he stopped in front of her, his eyes trailed on the covers, moving them to her feet, without moving his body. Yn grunted, surprised with how easily the covers fell, and how her body was exposed to him. The cold air made her nipples harden against the silk nightgown.

When she looked at him again, she saw his eyes for the first time. A deep honey brown, carrying so much and whispering so much on her mind, she had the urge to touch him. But her body would only do so much. Yn watched, as he studied her contours with something she was not able to pin just yet. She watched as his tongue came out of his plush and pink lips to moisten them. And she moaned, she actually moaned when his fingers touched her leg. His skin was cold, his touch so feathery almost like a ghost. He trailed the tip of his short nails on her thighs and with just one look he spread them.

“Yes,” she was able to whisper when his eyes found hers again.

The man smirked devilishly. One of his fingers trailed the path to her unclothed pussy and Yn whined when he spread her sex and caressed her soaked lips. She couldn’t think about anything but his deep brown eyes. Her husband was long forgotten. The house was long forgotten.

“Yes,” she chanted again. It sounded like a prayer. It made the mysterious man’s grin widen. He inserted one finger inside her and dipped his face to her ear. There wasn’t a sound, but she felt a light gush of air against her skin. And she tried to move her hips in the direction of his fingers.

He played with her already puffy clit, and this time the gush of air she felt against her skin was accompanied by a quiet chuckle sound.

Her hips ground against his big hands, and Yn choked when his long fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot. She shuddered and her body went limp when her orgasm hit her like a trainwreck, fogging her mind from any coherent thought.

Yn jolted from the bed feeling sweat slide down her forehead and between her breasts. She took a deep breath and finally opened her eyes trying to adjust them to the darkness of her room, her comforter was lying by her feet and the skirt of her nightgown was hiked up on her hips. She furrowed her brows and tentatively moved her fingers to her core, feeling the dampness of her core.

Cum.

She turned to her husband, but Eric was lying beside her, in a deep slumber.

She turned to the doorway and the once-closed door now rested ajar.

Once again Yn tried to rationalize everything. Was it possible to cheat on someone in your dreams? Was it really a dream?

She tried talking with Eric, but he was in so deep with work he wouldn’t be home until dinner almost every day. And when she tried to tell him about the weird noises and the sensation of being watched, he told her “It just feels weird because it's not decorated with your flowers and things yet, we got it mobiliated, not decorated, so maybe that’s why you’re feeling dislocated or whatever, just relax, will ya?”.

Up until starting to get the house in order, Yn would tell herself that every weird thing happening to her was just a product of her imagination. But while going through things in the living room, she found an album. Inside, a bunch of pictures caught her attention. The first few pages portrayed the house in a much better state. The gardens and a beautiful kitchen. A fireplace lit in the living room, and a corridor full of photos. At some point, she found a picture of a man. A stunning man. He had a big white smile while staring at the camera. His hair was ornated with braids, and two small ones shaped his face to perfection.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She flipped the album frantically being met with pictures of the same man side by side with different people. None of them were familiar to her. He was the only known face. By the foot of one picture, it read “Lewis and friends” signed with a date and a scribbled message she didn’t care to read because that man was Lewis.

That man was the one who would stand by her bedroom door every night.

It was the same man that fingered her until she came.

The same man who haunted her.

And precisely, the same man that haunted the whole house since the day he was killed, she confirmed after tipping on her phone, searching for the news about the case again, and finding his blurry picture there. No mention of his name. But a picture of him. And the mention of the neighborhood.

Her stabbing nightmares were his memories.

He was trying to spook her off the house.

But something changed along the way, Yn thought.

The cup of tea she was sipping tipped on the coffee table. She squeaked in surprise, and she would tell herself it was just her mind again if one of her books weren’t thrown across the living room.

And she swore it happened so fast, she couldn’t really process, couldn’t think of what she was doing when she opened her mouth and questioned, “Lewis?” She gulped. “Is that you?” her last sentence was a breathy whisper. So small only a ghost could hear.

And he did.

In fact, he waited forever to hear someone calling him by the name. He waited for the person who would see him and not run, who would stare, just like she did.

They say that calling someone by their name gives them power and gives them life.

Yn had just given Lewis what he needed.

And without even knowing, she had given herself too.

Lost in the years, lost in the days, he had finally found her.

He smiled, and when Yn turned to the corridor she saw him. She saw him for the first time being awake. Truly saw him. Lewis was handsome. Even more in person. But he was a ghost. He had touched and haunted her.

Yn couldn’t help but scream and try to run, but he was faster, appearing in front of her in the blink of an eye with a smirk on his face.

“Please, don’t kill me,” she whimpered and he chuckled.

“I’m not killing you, sweetheart. Quite the opposite, I’m keeping you here with me,” he states before adding, “Forever”.

Her eyes go round, and she shakes her head scaredly. “I-I have a husband, I’m married, I’m-”

Lewis chuckled, “He doesn’t love you, and neither you love him. Would you let me do this to you if you loved him?” he pins her against the wall and her breath hitches. He found her sweet spot and nipped it while tightening his grip on her waist. “I can practically smell your arousal. You’re such a filthy girl. So bad you get turned on by ghosts,” Lewis mocked.

She purses her lips, darting her eyes to the ground and he dips his head to her lips, tracing her jaw and cheeks.

“You’re cold,” Yn states.

“I’m dead, of course I’m cold, honey.”

“What are you going to do with Eric?” There’s a hint of fear in her voice, and Lewis bites his lips and shrugs.

“I don’t know. We’ll see,” he widens her legs and fits his lean waist between them. “Now you should be worried about what I’m gonna do with you, or rather, what we’re gonna do together.”

And despite the fear and surprise mixed with confusion, Yn couldn’t help but shamefully feel aroused when he ground against her pussy, trapping her body between his and the wall.

“We’re gonna spend the eternity together,” he grinned.

Yn arched her brows, “But I won’t live forever, I’m a human, I-,” but the dark look in his eyes shut her mouth, all the answers she needed right there.

She would spend eternity with Lewis.

Maybe not as a human.

But she would, and he would make sure of that.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! A huge shout out to Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for beta and proofreading this piece!🤍

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @scorpiobleue @soph1644 @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @noncannonships @barcelonaloverf1life

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.  

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #millie writes smut #ghost!lewis #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 smut #lewis hamilton smut #formula one smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #lewis hamilton x you #formula one au #f1 au #f1 imagine

[thepersonnamedsam]

mornings spent well - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader, f1!grid x reader (platonic)

summary: pt. 3 of the mini series mornings spent well. where the reader and charles finally get married like normal people

pt. 1 / pt. 2

word count: 1k

warnings: none, maybe too much fluff, I cried while writing this

note: enjoy it :) and don't be a ghost reader 

masterlist / taglist

The wedding had been planned to the last detail. It would happen on your first anniversary on the beach with only people you knew. No press was allowed, and you had secured and rented out the private beach part. Charles even composed your wedding march.

Your wedding dress just the way you wanted it to be. You knew the whole grid, including Daniel and Sebastian. A few friends and family were at your side of the beach on the other the grid and Charles family. Carlos stood to Charles left as you walked down the aisle with you father.

He looked at you and instantly felt a tear rolling down his cheek. Carlos wanted to snort so badly, seeing his good friend so vulnerable and soft was definitely a newer sight for Carlos. But he didn’t snort, he smiled. He knew Charles was smitten for you and he was happy that you provided him a feeling of home.

Daniel, the photo- and videographer of your wedding couldn’t stop smiling. Seeing Charles and you so happy after what happened exactly a year before was making him so excited for what still was to come. The camera always either pointed at him or you. Sometimes overflying the small crowd.

Your mother was crying, seeing her child walking down the aisle with so much pride and joy in her eyes was the biggest wish come true for her. Looking at her husband walking down with you, she couldn’t believe how grown up you are.

Pascale seeing her son standing strong and proud with watery eyes made her heart melt. Missing her late husband even more that day, wishing he could witness their son’s wedding as well. Even Arthur and Lorenzo looked proud of their brother. Proud he settled down for someone as glorious as you and proud they were able to see the happiness you bring Charles.

And you out of all couldn’t stop crying as soon as you saw your husbands tear leave his eye you were a goner. Not much caring about your make up, he still sees you as the most beautiful person on this planet.

With every step you took your heart pounded harder. Not because you were nervous, no, it wouldn’t be the first time marrying him, would it. No, it kept bounding more and more because you couldn’t wait to be near the love of your life. You wanted to smell his scent, feel his warmth against your body and see his piercing green eyes. You were so excited to actually marry this man again, that you couldn’t stop the chuckle that left your mouth.

Both nervous and happy waited Charles for you at the altar. You couldn’t be fast enough for him. Carlos sensing his nervousness and laying a calming hand on his shoulder, whispering: “You got this, brother.” His reassuring smile calming Charles a bit down. He still couldn’t believe it; he was marrying you. You out of all the people he could’ve chosen, out of all the people you could have chosen, he was marrying you again and you were marrying him again.

Lewis Hamilton, a person you instantly clicked with as you first met him, Sebastian Vettel, someone you only ever met once in Melbourne, and Fernando Alonso, a fatherly figure for you, watched as you halted at the altar and looked at your (soon to be) husband. Your father handing Charles you and giving him a firm handshake. They looked at the pair smiling at each other and be all lovey-dovey. They were happy for the pair.

“You are so beautiful, belle”, he whispered. A smile spreading on your face, wide enough to reach your sides of your face. Holding both his hands in yours, squeezing them and closing your eyes, you hoped that you would never forget this moment, this feeling. Him standing before you in his cream suit, smiling wide and genuine. Feeling his hands squeezing yours back.

The officiator announced the typical speech he had to deliver. And the time came, where they would say their vows to each other. Charles, the gentleman as he is, let you start.

“Charles, my love, we first met one year and a week ago. I gave you my number on a coffee cup and you decided on this day a year ago you wanted to marry me. With lots of tequila and bad breath I said yes. This was the best decision I have ever made. I promise to always love and support you, in good and bad times. In times where there are no points at all and where there are points endless to count. Charles, I promise to be there in sickness and health until we’re both grey and old. I promise to be there at every step of your way, and I promise you, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc, to love you unconditionally and give you all my time I have.”

Charles smiled, cried, and laughed. How did he end up so lucky?

“Chérie, I promise to always love you. I promise to always support you and be there for you. I promise you to cherish you and every moment we get to spend together. I am yours and you are mine. Soulmates to never be apart. From strangers to lovers, I will be there all the way, from sickness to health, from life to death. You are my everything and I will love you as long as the sun still rises every day. I loved you yesterday, I will love you tomorrow and most importantly, I love you today.”

Your eyes red from crying, happy tears of course, you couldn’t stop looking at the love of your life. He was your everything. And as the officiator finally said those long-awaited words, you kissed the groom and felt like you were flying. You finally had an official wedding; you could finally dance to your wedding song and collect memories from that day.

The only thing you wished would change from last year, was you would wake up with nothing under the sheets and a head full of memories instead of aches.

Charles would never let you go, but you can assure him, you would never leave him anyway.

°°°

previous part

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles lecrelc #wedding #f1 x reader #f1 smut #formula 1 #lewis hamilton x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #fernando alonso #carlos sainz x reader #beach #marriage #monaco #Spotify

[five-rivers]

Ancestral Chapter 21

Probably the last one for this month, if not this year. Written for ectober day 27: circus gothica (yes, I am behind).

.

Somehow, Danny wasn’t even surprised at this point.  

"Yeah, I, um.  I met the guy, once?"

"Sorry?" said Gwensyvyr.

At the same time, Jazz asked, "Who?"

"Pariah Dark," said Danny.

"He is supposed to be sealed."  Gwensyvyr's form briefly flickered back to her battle regalia.  This close, Danny could see that each of her braids had a spiked chain woven into it, starting low enough down that the spikes would bounce off the back of her armor, not the back of her head.  

"He was," Danny hastened to reassure her.  "He is.  He just.  Got out for a little bit.  Last year."

Gwensyvyr leaned back, her elbow phasing slightly through the chair.  She covered her mouth with her opposite hand.  "It seems my suspicions might not be as far-fetched as I thought before.  If he was out at all, they might have–" She stopped.  "You still need to know the whole story."

Matthew's phone began to tweedle.  He snatched it up with a look of panic on his face.  "Sorry!  I need to take–" The panic transformed into a kind of exhausted horror as he stared at the phone.  "Does our honored ancestor know about phones?  I mean…"  He looked back and forth between Danny and the phone, which was still ringing.  

"She knows about phones," said Danny, unsure whether to be amused or not.  

Matthew seemed to take this as permission, because he answered the phone.  “Yes, did you find it?”  He was silent for a moment.  “No?  Do you know what happened?  Could he have moved it to some other spot?  No, no, I understand.  If possible, please keep looking.  It’s very important.  Goodbye.”  He put down the phone.  “That was Aldryk Wylfred, his father was one of grandfather’s close friends.  He’d been named a Knight of the Key, and given one of the Great Gate Keys to safeguard…  His key is missing.  I’m waiting on the other Knights of the Keys.”

“I had hoped it was not so.”

“Is… no one going to ask why Danny knows someone that Queen Gwensyvyr fought?” asked Leo.  “Or how?”

“Well, he was a ghost at the time,” said Danny.  “But we really ought to…”  He waved at Gwensyvyr.  “Listen.  And stuff.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to be able to get away with that for much longer.  

“Thank you,” said Gwensyvyr.  "But if you met Pariah Dark, you know what he became."

"King of Ghosts."

"He thought of himself that way, yes," said Gwensyvyr.  "It is not something Artyr and I considered, when we killed him.  Nor did any of the ghosts and spirits who haunted him and wanted him dead as badly as we did."

“His name really was Arthur, then,” said Lewis, who had taken out a notebook at some point.  "Your husband."

“In his birthplace, perhaps.  He was named after a famed king of that land, long dead, as I understand it, then and now.  It has made our respective legends rather confused, at times.  

"With me, he was always Artyr.  He was trained as a blacksmith, which was why they kept him.  Such skills are valuable still, as you well know.”  She nodded to the ritual knives many of them had set on the table, and then again to the knives Irene had set the table with.  "He made the very first of those.  To kill Pariah."

"Why?" asked Danny.  "Why did you need that?  Wasn't he human, then?"

Gwensyvyr shook her head.  "Not entirely," she said.  "Not anymore.  He had his men desecrate the pool.  Mine was not the only blood spilled in it that day, and they did more than that.  They threw trash into it.  They blocked off the spring.  They did things in it too foul to speak of.  They cut down the tree and burned it.  But not before Pariah and his sons ate every single apple that grew on it that year."

"They were syvyrys," said Danny.  "That's why you needed a knife that could cut a ghost."

"Not like I was and not like you are, but, yes.  They had already had some measure of magic to them - that is how they cut down the nine of us priestesses.  Numbers alone did not do that.  But the apples gave them terrible power.  

"They took me and the others they had chosen as slaves - beautiful girls and men with valuable skills, for the most part - back to their homeland.  The islands were not the only place he had taken slaves from, though they were always quite careful not to ever take so many as to be outnumbered.  So, there, I met Artyr.  There, we plotted.  There, I came into my powers.  There, I killed Pariah Dark.

"But to my continuing regret, I did not kill his sons."

"You think they have something to do with all this," said Matthew.

"Or their descendants," said Gwensyvyr.  "They are the only syvyrys I ever knew of who could use blood blossoms like that.  They were always doing some new, terrible thing.  We had more spirits on our side than they did, even with their ridiculous cult, so they spent much of their time making new weapons against them.  They had ways to keep themselves and their spirits safe from blood blossoms that we never learned.  They had ways to imbue objects with their powers.  At one point, they used some alchemy to make this sphere of red glass that could control most ghosts and even tugged on my mind…"  She trailed off.  "You've encountered that, too, haven't you?"

Danny squirmed.  "Maybe."

"How?" asked Gwensyvyr.  "Why?"

"It was–" He looked at the rest of his family.  "It was– This crazy circus ringmaster had it and was using it to make ghosts rob banks and jewelry stores for him."

"Are you talking about Freakshow?" asked Jazz.

"Freakshow?"

"His real name was Frederick Isaac Showenhower," offered Jazz.  "At least, that was his pen name."

"Amazing," said Gwensyvyr.  “We ought to sit down and talk about all of the history you managed to run into despite living an ocean away and under a different name.  But– Showenhower.  That has a German root, doesn’t it?  There was some suspicion that the younger son had fled to that area after betraying his brothers…  I’m getting ahead of myself.  

“While Artyr and I worked at cleansing the sacred pool, reviving the tree, and healing the other damage done by Pariah’s attack, Pariah’s sons built up a cult around their father’s ghost.  A group of fanatics that stayed loyal even in death.  

“They attacked Avlynys again when I was pregnant with my second daughter, seeking revenge and the power of the sacred pool.  Imagine for a moment, such a battle between syvyrys and spirits.  The sky was shattered with lightning, the air green with power.  Trees uprooted themselves to take part in the fighting.  The dead sacrificed themselves to take up their buried corpses.  I myself fought Pariah in his glory, bolstered by prayers and sacrifice, wearing a crown of fire and a ring forged from the souls of a hundred berserkers.  I banished him through the pond, whose door had been stuck open since it drank of my blood.  

“It broke the ground beneath the pond and spring, and the spring sank deep underground where, to the best of my knowledge, it still rests.”

“That’s the portal in Andyr?” asked Danny.  “Just checking to make sure.”

“The pond, yes,” said Gwensyvyr.  “Kyr Argyn was built on the rift - we also used it as a silver mine for a while.  Very useful, for a newly-formed country.”  Her lips twitched up.  “Artyr also enjoyed the chance to learn silversmithing.  I do appreciate your attempts to get back the Kyp Styrryse, Lwys.  It took him a hundred years to get that good.”  She made a face.  “It was also a great aid when maintaining the pool.  Having it again would be very good.”

“Oh,” said Lewis.  “I, well, I’m working on it.  But– A hundred years?”

“Artyr died in that battle, but he did not leave.  We had three more children, after, though they were… strange.  Even now, he has not left, though he sleeps with many of the other spirits of this land.

“After we had driven off Pariah’s sons, we found the pool again.  It took time and a great deal of effort even with magic, and once we did, we were determined that no one should use it for evil ever again, and that even if all of us should die - me, and my children, who numbered three, only, at the time, and my closest friends - it should be safe.  But we could not simply bury it and leave it.  It was not yet clean and still too powerful.  So, we made nine Great Gates and nine Great Gate Keys, to guard all the paths that could reach it.  We pledged our family to the cause of safeguarding it and tending it, and we named ourselves after those gates, those doors, so we would not forget.”

Gwensyvyr paused significantly.  

“We’ve done that, haven’t we?” asked Matthew.  “Even before Uncle Leon died.”

“It was a good while before that, too, to be fair,” said Gwensyvyr.  “In truth, I think it started as early as my great-grandchildren’s time.  A hundred years of fighting with the sons and grandsons of Pariah…”  She trailed off and shook her head.  “Alys wanted peace, and thought that both sides were worn down enough that she could get it.  She married her daughter, her only child, to one of Pariah’s scions.  But Kythrin chose never to have access to the sacred pool, or take up her duties to it, and so never to become queen herself.  The throne and its duties went to her cousin, and her husband killed her and took their children to Britain, where he made a pest of himself for the rest of his natural life, despite efforts to end it prematurely.  

“One of the children came back.  We were overjoyed, but…”  Gwensyvyr’s face soured.  “Once welcomed, they used the pool to try and call up Pariah once more.

“That is when the pool and the journey andyr Kyr Argyn became so entwined with the succession.  Before that, we had helpers, who came freely.  They were not the priestesses of old, but they had some knowledge, and it made the burden easier for the family.  After… we did not trust so easily.  

“Later, many years on, Queen Arynryd saw the danger in this and founded the School of Heroes in an attempt to gather those that could be trusted.  That was the original point of it - not to be a pre-approved pool of heroic suitors to pick from to prevent inbreeding in the royal line.”  She rolled her eyes as a faint susurrus of ohs rose up around the table.  “Although, I will grant that it has been useful for that, on occasion.”

Gwensyvyr shook her head.  “After that incident, though, many of us were worried that Pariah might return, so I and some others went through the pool, and directly into a war.  I am not sure how long it lasted.  Time was strange, there, in the otherworld.  But it was Pariah and his fanatics against all other spirits, and we felt that, as his old enemies, we must join in.

“When Pariah was sealed, we returned, but we found that more than a generation had passed, and Pariah’s brood had made war on us again, and that they had even roused the Normans to do the same.  A whole…”  She paused, looking away.  “While we were gone, a whole branch of the family had been wiped out.  Only the youngest, one too young to go to war, survived.  And though King Ydmynd completed the trials, and as an adult, with a child just born, he decreed restrictions, and that no one should go into Andyr or to the pools except for the Trials.”

Gwensyvyr stared at the table.  “I did not intervene.  I thought it would be enough, as people had children, and those children wanted to take up the family task.  I thought the pool healed enough, and the gates strong enough.  It was not Ydmynd’s fault, mind.  He was young, and he’d had a harrowing time of the trials, with so many of us gone to fight Pariah in the beyond, and all his family dead.”

She paused again, giving Danny time to catch up and think about what that must have felt like, for Edmund.  To think about how every day they seemed to be getting closer to that point themselves.

“There were some benefits to the developments as well.  The decrees were not because of fear, only,” said Gwensyvyr, softly.  “Athlyng Elysyvyt was kidnapped young and educated by the Danes, who wanted to put her on the throne, but without the Trials, she had no claim to it.  We avoided long periods of regency, and the crises that come with child monarchs.  A few times, Pariah’s living fanatics were caught trying to get into Andyr.

“Then, too, not everyone followed King Ydmynd’s decrees, especially after he, in turn, died.  There were strong syvyrys in those years, too.  Even so… even so, we thought it might be best to let the living find their own way, in most cases.  There is a reason I did not stay queen after my death, though I was, clearly, still there and still visible, as magic had suffused Avlynys through the sacred pool far more in those days than it does now.  

“There were things to do, regardless.  Even in death, even with the pool behind the Great Gates, we still had to protect the island and the pool from enemies.  And…”  She sighed.  “When there were no more enemies, and we found ourselves growing weary, many of us chose to rest.  Even I cannot be everywhere at once.  I often chose to shadow my family, rather than any greater purpose and as time passed, and the pool wasn’t tended to, its power faded.  I thought that a good thing, that it was finally returning to how it used to be before my first death, but lately we find we cannot even go there, and…  Now we are here.  A thousand years of attrition and inattention later, we are here.”

“And… that’s it?” asked Danny.

Gwensyvyr spread her hands out.  “I am not going to attempt to recount the entire millennia, much less the portions of it that are in living memory.  Although maybe I should.  I always thought the nationalist movement had a little too much in common with some of the things Pariah’s fanatics got up to.”  She tapped her lips.  “And the Germans sent us a remarkable number of curses during the second of the Great Wars, despite how terrible they were at it, and despite hardly anyone being able to do that at all in the twentieth century.”

“We expelled the nationalist movement.  Their whole organization was outlawed, after the Brygytyn attacks.”

“Matthew, you know as well as I that you never entirely get rid of people like that.”

Iris raised a hand.  “So, our consensus here is that our premier pharmaceutical institution is run by deranged cultists who specifically hate our family for killing their, what, their god?  And they might be Nazis on top of that?”

“Not Nazis,” said George.  “Those were specifically German nationalists.”

“There are American Nazis, too,” pointed out Iris.

“I wouldn’t call it a consensus,” said Gwensyvyr.  “But they must, at least, be involved, and I find the timing suspicious, if he was out of that sarcophagus for any length of time.  I would say that the spirit who attacked just now was one of them, likely being punished for failing to kill you earlier, Matthew.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Danny.  He was, personally, all for going out and beating up whoever was behind all this, but he didn’t know who was behind all this.

“The Trials,” said Matthew.  “If we did them, if we got rid of whatever was blocking you, could you…  How many of our ancestors are here, awake?  Could you help?”

Gwensyvyr smiled, teeth sharp, ghostly fangs.  “We would like nothing better.”

#danny phantom #ectober #ectoberhaunt #ectoberhaunt23 #ectoberhaunt 2023 #ectober 2023 #ancestral fic

[oh-no-another-idea]

15 question OC interview [Fynn edition] 🕑

Tagged by all the lovelies @ghost-town-story @fanged-solace and @willtheweaver -- thanks, guys! I love writing these they're so fun :) Today we're going to interview Fynn!! I'm very excited for this as his character recently got a bit of a behind-the-scenes makeover and has some new backstory. :)

Previously on, in case anyone wants to view, are Antonio's interview, and Paris's.

"We gather here today..." Antonio intones, holding his notepad and lantern as though he is the sole survivor of a doomed expedition in the jungle. "For a bold and momentous occasion."

"Speak for yourself," Paris says, leaning against the wall behind him. "Some of us gather for the entertainment." "Being me," Fynn says dolefully, trying not the clutch the armrests of his chair so tight that he ruins the fabric.

Are you named after anyone?

Not a terrible question to start off with, all things considered. "Yes," Fynn says. "My grandfather. He died when I was only a few years old."

When was the last time you cried? And a terrible second question. Fynn eyeballs Antonio, but he just looks normal. Which is to say, like an utter loon. Behind him, Paris and Velia knock their shoulders together. Only Lewis has some measure of sympathy on his face. Probably because he knows he'll be next before too long. "I don't remember," Fynn lies. He did remember. It had been the night before he'd decided to leave the city. Antonio raises an eyebrow but scribbles the answer down.

Do you have kids? "Booo," Velia says loudly. Antonio twists around in his seat to glare at her. "My older sister has children," Fynn says before either of them can start a fight. "I've only met the oldest two. They are some of my favorite people in the world."

Do you use sarcasm?

Fynn sighs. "Alas yes."

What's the first thing you notice about people? "I don't really," Fynn apologies. He tries not to wilt under the four confused gazes suddenly latched on him. "I'd make a terrible detective." "Not at all?" "Leave him alone, Antonio," Lewis says, and what do you know, Antonio moves on.

What's your eye color? "--I don't know," Fynn says, thrown. When has he ever noticed, or cared? Lewis scurries over and kneels before him. "Gray," he says. "Like steel beams. Or coal smoke." Fynn smiles down at him. Lewis winks.

Scary or happy endings? "I don't like endings," Fynn says honestly.

Any special talents? "No," Fynn says, frowning. "But I've skills. I'm a mechanic by trade, I know my way around an engine and the tools needed to maintain her, and a fair bit of carpentry as well." "And you're good with kids," Velia adds. "That's a skill alright."

Where were you born?

Fynn can't help but grin, thinking of home. "Norway."

What are your hobbies? Fynn frowns. "I'm a working man--" "Oh shut up," Antonio whines. "Live a little, Fynn. You're here with us, aren't you?" "Then you're my hobbies," Fynn says, just to see their faces. They don't disappoint.

Have you any pets? "I can hardly feed myself on a good day," Fynn says, realizing he's calmer now than he expected to be. "Can you imagine a dog trailing after me?" "How about a rat?" Paris suggests unhelpfully. "Since they're already your roommates?" "Or a pigeon?" Velia adds. Fynn rolls his eyes. The two of them, honestly.

What sports do you play/have played? "This is ridiculous," Fynn mutters. "Yes, ridiculous," Paris says, almost like he's been waiting for it. "Quite right, Fynn." Antonio shoots him a look. "I didn't invite you, you insisted on accompanying us. At least get out and leave us be." Paris leans down, grabs the notebook and reads off the next question.

How tall are you? "Fynn," Paris finishes, laughing a little. "Have you a measuring tape in your pocket?" "Yes, actually," Fynn says sheepishly pulling it out. He hands it to Antonio when he sees how large his grin is. Paris throws his hands up. "Might as well actually measure then." "Six foot one inch!" Antonio says triumphantly. "Good lord you're tall."

Favorite subject in school? "I stopped going to school when I came to America to work," Fynn tells them. "I can't say I miss it."

Dream job? "My job now," Fynn says. "With my family nearby and well and a steady paycheck." "And a flamingo," Antonio says promptly. Fynn stares. "Just to spice your plans up a little," Antonio elaborates. "Worry not, I will supply it." "You're going to make me steal from a zoo, aren't you," Velia says grimly. Antonio smiles.

Gentle tags for anyone who made it all the way through that, and also @zmwrites @revenantlore @reneesbooks @saltysupercomputer

@pertinax--loculos @sparrow-orion-writes and @penspiration-writing <3

#tag games #15 questions tag #fynn aaronson #wip: invisible girl

[lewis-winters]

3 and 6 for the positivity meme?

I'll answer this backwards because my answer to no. 3 got long.

6 - what's a headcanon that you'll die on that hill?

Lewis Nixon III was a theater kid and has done drag in his life. This is forreal. The ghost of Dick Winters revealed this to me in a dream.

3 - what are some fics you go back and read again and again?

oh I love this question. in the last ask I did say I left out some creators and now is my time to redeem myself! (also another reminder that I desperately need to finish this massive fic rec post I have been steadily adding fics to since January BUT ANYWAY)

under the cut!

all of @churchkey's Winnix and ToyeMalarkey fics! god do I love them so much. I re-read A Spell of Riot once a year since it was completed.

and of course @anthrobrat's Bob, TP, and Gen Kill fics!

all of BristlingBassoon's Winnix fics - Queen for a Day inspired my "Lewis has done drag" conviction and When we met, you'd never expect this series is just. divine.

@marycontraire's Contact Tracing. of course.

make it up as we go along - Joe drives his cab, Chuck plays Call of Duty, and Babe just wants to pass Biochem; their apartment is like Grand Central at the best of times and that’s without the two possible fugitives they decided to harbor in the guest room; Luz’s life is turning into a terrible romcom about a coffee shop; Harry’s friends are bad at running a bar but they’re trying their best; somebody got punched in the face; and someday there will be a New York Times Bestseller about all of it.

Or, the interlinked soap opera-worthy drama of a group of millennials in Philadelphia, told day by day.

Lie if God is Sleeping - Gene flipped the puzzle over to read the back. “My name is Edward Heffron,” he read aloud. “I killed a man, and now I’m paying the price. 18,000 pieces. It will take approximately seven days to complete me. For experienced players only.”

What the fuck was a curse this nasty doing in a Philadelphia used bookstore?

rivers always reach the sea - my favorite webgott canon era series fic ever

Situation Normal - Winters and Nixon move to the city, reunite with some old friends and find themselves adopting a new, four-legged one.

By Small and Small - Babe wants to keep talking with Gene, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like, in the past, he never would’ve shut up, but now, since Julian, he’s just got nothing. Maybe that’s grieving; Bill says that’s grieving, anyway, but Bill uses the term like a Band-Aid to put over every aspect of Babe that has changed.

Or: The one where Gene is in med school and Babe's messed up over Julian.

Dear Lover - A group of friends who supervise soldiers' mail are secretly very invested in one Major Winters' letters to a woman he seems to be having a secret affair with.

all or SJtrinity's Band of Brothers (webgott) fics and The Pacific (sledgefu and andyeddie) fics

Green and Gold - Merriell has dark magic and a guilty conscious. He never considered how the war would change them.

The American Sublime - "Tactician that he is, he finds the likelihood of still being loved by someone who, thanks to him, has just awakened to a wicked hangover and a face full of cold piss next to nil."

Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon billet together at a farmhouse in Holland for a rare few weeks of peace and privacy, while Dick struggles to process his promotion and his time away from Easy Company. Set during the first minutes of Episode 5, "Crossroads."

Cows. Wildflowers. Feelings. Handjobs.

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines - It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs.

In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.

Baby You Can Drive My Car - Everyone has their thing. Perco takes watches. Nix scrounges for liquor. Welsh continues his never-ending quest for anything that will please Kitty Grogan. Even Eugene robs abandoned apothecaries with only a touch of guilt, making off with as many bandages and sulfa packets as he can carry. And then there’s Speirs, sweeping behind them like a shadow and carrying away anything they leave behind that sparkles or shines.

Babe steals cars. He’s getting pretty good at it.

Come in From the Cold - In which Smokey Gordon's coffee shop 'Bastogne' saves lives by lending cutting instruments and offering a steady supply of caffeine and sugary goodness. The shenanigans are just a by-product.

Call me 'sweetheart', Please? by @mariamegale - A not-relationship in the making. (baberoe)

anthroposcene, interrupted - Three months ago, Ray Person was a Philosophy major at Harvard. Now, he's dodging Runners trying to get from St. Louis to Cambridge without a) starving, b) dying by accident or c) offing himself. However, three's company, and it comes in the form of a dog with no bark and a taciturn Marine Staff Sergeant who's last name is Not-Pitt, which has gotta count for something.

#ask #ask game #webgott #winnix #baberoe #speirton #sledgefu #fic rec

[ilovefandoms]

Alastember - day 22

my thomastair playlist (2023 update)

yes, I took this week as an excuse to update the 3 playlists I posted last year

updating this post

yes, again, most of these are taylor swift songs, im sorry

Paris - Taylor Swift

I've said it a million times, this one is so obvious for thomastair

No, I didn't see the news cause we were somewhere else

first of all, we know they’re going to travel all around the world, that’s practically canon. second of all, this line comes after the verse where a third person is telling Taylor the gossip of one of her exes, so I imagine someone trying to tell Alastair something that happened to Charles, and Alastair being like “I didn’t know, I don’t care, I didn’t ask”

Levitate above all the messes made

they both hurt each other, but they can apologize and forgive each other and move past that

Haven’t You Ever Been In Love Before? - Lewis Capaldi

This entire song just almost perfectly describes thomastair during chot, when Alastair kept pulling away from Thomas, also, I feel like the chorus is probably a conversation that happened post-chot, pre-epilogue

And she said this "Haven't you ever been in love before? You heard 'em say, it takes the pain away And it's a feelin' that you can't ignore" But it's more like a knife to mе than a high to me And my heart can't fall apart anymore If you knеw what I knew, you'd be terrified Haven't you ever been in love before?

Labyrinth - Taylor Swift

Alastair being scared to fall in love again after ch*rles

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again Oh, I'm fallin' in love I thought the plane was goin' down How'd you turn it right around?

Daylight - Taylor Swift

this song and the next one I can’t believe I didn’t add them to the playlist the first time???? specially since the first fic I posted on ao3 was a thomastair fic titled after this song??

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in Everyone looked worse in the light There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven I'll tell you the truth but never goodbye I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked Clearin' the air, I breathed in the smoke

I once believed love would be black and white But it's golden golden

I once believed love would be burnin' red But it's golden Like daylight

I wanna be defined by the things that I love Not the things I hate

Dress - Taylor Swift

I can’t believe I didn’t realize how perfectly this bridge fit thomastair until I saw a tiktok about it??? (the person deleted the tiktok, otherwise I’d put a link to it here)

Flashback when you met me, your buzzcut and my hair bleached Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me Flashback to my mistakes, my rebounds, my earthquakes Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me And I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side My one and only, my lifeline I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side

Electric Touch - Taylor Swift

Got a history of stories ending sadly Still hoping that the fire won't burn me Just one time, just one time All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life And I want you now, wanna need you forever In the heat of your electric touch I've been left in the rain lost and pining I'm tryin' hard not to look like I'm trying 'Cause every time I tried hard for love, it fell apart

@alastair-appreciation-month

#alastair carstairs #alastair appreciation month #thomastair #thomas lightwood #tlh #the last hours #personal post

[deadal3x]

"Stories of The Forgotten Demigods" MASTERPOST

Series and fics found on Ao3. Series link is here

Discord server can be found here; come say hi!

MINOR SPOILERS BELOW CUT.

FIC LINKS:

"Sealed his Fate (Change the Prophecy)" A Fic following Damien Monroe and Grayson Bailey throughout the years leading to the Battle of Manhattan. (Details their life through the Five PJO books)

"With You I Serve (With You I Fall Down)" A Fic following character Camille Jones as she navigates the Foster System, life in Kronos's army, and life as an unclaimed demigod.

"Every Scrap of You (Would Be Taken From Me)" A Fic following twin characters Wyman and Warren O'Connoly as they find their place in the world as demigods, following a devastating loss. The twins must persevere as they help in the efforts against Kronos's army.

"Rose Tattoo (You'll Always Be There with Me)" A fic following Russian demigod Canobie Nikolaevich Volkov as he struggles to escape captivity from the Russian army, navigates life post escape, and how his role in the war against the Romans play out.

Giants Fall (Who Will Save Us?) [RELEASE DATE TBD] Follow Damien Monroe as he fights to stop Gaea from awakening; and how he learns to separate himself from his past, and truly begin his healing process. (details Damien's story through Heroes of Olympus to Trials of Apollo, and COTG/WOTTG)

"Someone Who Loves You (Wouldn't Do This)" [RELEASE DATE TBD] A story following the forgotten Chase cousin- Jasper, son of Loki and Randolph Chase. (Takes place during MCGA.) Jasper is stuck trying to follow the right path when he gets the news his cousin Annabeth is in town, and that his other cousin, Magnus has died. Read to find out how Jasper finds himself with a family he never thought he'd have.

"Always an Angel (Never A God)" A story told from Ethan Nakamura's perspective, giving us the full story of what truly happened on the Princess Andromeda.

"You're on Your Own Kid (You always have Been)" You've heard the stories of their children. The endless pain, the wars, and more the demigods fought in. Now, it's time to hear how they came to be. How their mortal parents met the gods. (A deep dive into My OCs Mortal Parents' lives before they became the parent of a Demigod Hero.)

PLAYLIST LINKS: (songs are still being added to them!)

Overall Playlist for the Series, "Stories of The Forgotten Demigods"

A Master post for the Cabin playlists is here

A Master post for Canon Character playlists is here

"I don't like to celebrate my Birthday"; A playlist based on Damien's "Cursed" Birthday; aka December First.

Strawberry Wine; A playlist for Grayson Bailey and his love Interest, Chris Rodriguez.

Timeless Pomegranate; A playlist for Luke Castellan, and Damien Monroe.

Strawberry Ghosts; A brotherly playlist for Damien Monroe and Grayson Bailey

Undead Soldiers and their general; a playlist defining Damien and Clarisse's friendship

Valmongrace; a playlist for the poly couple of Jason Grace, Leo Valdez and Damien Monroe

Wysdom and War; a playlist for the twin children of Athena.

Damien Monroe, The Son of Hades.

Grayson Bailey, The Son of Dionysus

Camille Jones, an unclaimed Demigod

Wyman O'Connoly, The Daughter of Athena

Warren O'Connoly, The Son of Athena

Lake Wilson, A Child of Apollo

Canobie Nikolaevich Volkov; the son of Nemesis

Evangeline McCormick; A child of Tyche

Simon McCarthy, The Son of Enyo

Aster Williams, The son of Opora

Julie Thatcher, The Daughter of Apate

Winnie McKay, The Daughter of Hecate

Sirona Lewis, The Daughter of Asclepius

#Stories of The Forgotten Demigods #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oc #hereos of olympus #the seven pjo #my pjo ocs #masterlist ! #Deadalex's stuff #writing #pjo ocs #playlists #my percy jackson ocs

[witchwhodoesvoodoos]

i have this headcanon in stardew valley that seb does community service as much as sam for the most questionable unexplainable shit you could imagine and because lewis is a terrible mayor.

we all know the moonlight jellies event every end of summer, right? it was year 3, i was talking to every folks i lay my eyes on like the social butterfly i am ingame. then i talked to sam and this guy legit asked if the jellies are poisonous because if they aren't he'll fucking yeet seb there to fucking drown idk if the man can even swim let alone stay afloat and lewis will most likely reprimand them for interrupting a special event and it got me thinking how their lives go about when sam is the most random man you've ever met

like can you imagine if one day sam approaches seb and gives him a bunch of freshly uprooted flowers because he finds the colors vibrant and demetrius is in the background panicking about how he shouldn't have picked them because it's illegal and they're poisonous and sam just goes "nah im pretty sure these stuff ain't poisonous" and the next thing you knew his hand is red and seb's dragging his fainted body to the clinic. the moment sam wakes up, lewis is fuming by his side going on about how irresponsible he is and that he and seb will clean the community center for a week and seb will say something along the lines of "why am i with him?" and lewis will make up a shitty reason to end the conversation

i firmly believe that one night in fall, sam asked seb if they could do ghost hunting and seb was like "okay let's do it" mainly because he's bored and doesn't believe in ghosts. so they wore masks and makeshift ghost-hunting equipment and stuff and walked through the town at 3 am in dead silence and darkness and only in their undershirt and boxers because as sam quotes "everyone is asleep at that time and they can just lie straight to bed to fall asleep after everything's over". sam is starting to cower in fear in his first twenty steps and seb just goes "mf this is your idea dont back out now" "there's no ghosts im telling you so pull yourself together" then they reach the bridge and hear the bush near it rustle and make weird sounds. seb does nothing while sam, silently praying, knees wobbling and hands shaking, throws his whole equipment towards its direction and hear it scream. so sam screams, seb screams out of shock, and lewis and marnie emerge from the bush. they had a silent agreement not to talk about it with the way they stare at each other, but boy do sam and seb enjoy picking trash for two weeks.

i have a lot of takes for this hc but everything's overlapping in my mind and i think im on the verge of overloading

#they're so chaotic snd i love it #hc that jodi visits the clinic too often with how her blood pressure spikes up everytime sam does shit #stardew valley #sam sdv #sebastian sdv #sam stardew valley #sebastian stardew valley #stardew valley jodi #stardew valley headcanons

[dreamnoteprincess]

Welcome to Dreamworld Headcanons!

Because my hyperfixation is at an ALL TIME HIGH!! I figured sharing some Headcanons I have for WTDW!

When Lewis first met Sara, she kept distant from him thinking he'd betray her.

When Lewis and Sara met Oliver he too was bullied until Sara stepped in and saved his life

Lewis was an virtual pet parent growing up (Yes! He might've played Webkinz, Neopets, or any of those online games growing up!)

Lewis came out to Sara and Oliver before anyone else as he trusted them.

Sara gets triggered easily around bullies. When she does she gives them a good beating up.

After the incident, Sara is afraid being alone in the woods by herself. She always believed the ghost of her bullies would haunt her if she were to be alone.

During Sara's childhood Litho would possess Sara's Toys (Think of how in Powerpuff Girls when HiM possessed Bubbles plushie Octi) and would speak to her in that form.

Prior to winning the robotics contest. The Founder Trio babysat for Oliver's siblings and Carly to earn a little extra money.

If you'd like to see more let me know!!

#random post #important post #welcome to dreamworld #wtdw #headcanons #wtdw headcanons

[frozenhi-chews]

Pancake and Arthur - MSA AU Lore

Here's some lore with Pancake and Arthur. Idk what to call this AU yet, throw me some ideas pls

Hope ya enjoy! There's a LOT

Some of the lore can be found here, but I'm willing to summarize a bit.

Pancake is the third wheel. She has two childhood friends (which is canon in the OG story, Leave Death to the Professionals). When they got closer and started dating, she was happy for them! They looked happy, and they still included her. That was until she was getting shafted, pushed aside, a "oh right you're here!" kind of thing.

Being alone with no one, Pancake felt she needed to find someplace else. It's not like her friends would miss her, right? So she hopped onto her motorcycle and drove off. To where, she didn't know, but also didn't care.

One day she was just tired. Tired of being left alone, tired of being yelled at for being half alien/human, tired of a lot of things. So she hopped onto her motorcycle and left. It was around midnight where it had problems, so she found the closest town and met Lance. She told him she needed a place to stay, he told her where a motel was, and the next day she decided to sightsee.

This is where she met Vivi and Lewis! (This is after Future and Viv and Lewis started dating again, being more inclusive with Arthur) Upon meeting another person fascinated with the paranormal, she and Vivi bonded really quickly. And also bc Pancake was able to tell Lewis was dead. Despite his disguse.

After talking with the two for a few hours, she went back to the shop to check in on the motorbike. And lo and behold, there's a cute guy there! They introduced themselves, and yes this is Arthur! He liked the bike. The two of them also bonded, and it got to the point he started inviting her out to activities.

However she soon saw Lew and Vi were a type to kinda ignore others around them when they're focused on eachother. So being the brilliant alien she is, she grabs Arthur and they spend time alone a lot. Even Mystery picked up on that

They would talk for hours about random things, stars, mechanics, cars, pets. It was pretty soon when Arthur began opening up to Pancake. She felt...safe to him. They've known eachother for a few weeks at this point, (Pancake finding a small job at the bookstore and camps out at the motel.) Pancake also started feeling the same way. Heck at this point he invited her to his house upon occasion! For the first time she felt like she belonged.

One she feels she can trust Arthur with.

He talked about how he felt with Vivi and Lewis, how he lost his arm, the whole thing with Mystery, and even his family a bit. She told him about her friends, and how she grew up being isolated.

She told him she's not entirely human. He didn't get it at first. (She hides her antennae in a big beanie and tries to hide other alien features under baggy clothes)

He likes bringing her on paranormal trips, she likes having movie nights with him. (Cuz it's an excuse to cuddle)

It's obvious to others when they're crushing on each other. Arthur stares or talks about her nonstop, and Pancake has always got to be holding hands with him and trying to make him laugh. She also decorates his mechanical arm with stickers sometimes

During a ghost hunting trip, the ghost turned out to be a demon and tried to attack Arthur. Pancake, freaking out, shifted to her Terrorvant Form and blasted acid in its face. That's when Arthur fully understood, and Pancake panicked. Would he think of her the same? Would he shun her like everyone else?

He just stared at her in awe, before going in for a hug to thank her for saving his life. That's when she fully fell in love. (She no longer wore that beanie around him)

Their first kiss was at a drive in. During a horror movie. After that, Arthur quickly confessed that he had liked her for a while, as did she. They waited till the end of the movie to talk it out and begin dating.

Also Pancake is really strong, and she picks Arthur up often. Like over the shoulder or under the arm and off they goooooo

Thats it! For now at least.

Sorry it's so long I just kinda. Infodumped. Hope you all enjoyed! I might make a part two who knows.

Taglist: @dwdoesarts @spooky-selfshipping-scene @eternally-smitten @speedstershipping | lmk if you wanna be taken off or be added

#self ship stuff #self ship #arthur kingsmen <3 #msa #mystery skulls animated #self insert #🥞 cake writes #headcanons #self shipping #self shipping community #oc x canon #self insert x canon #pancake #sona #aaaaaa #sorry this is so LONG #also a thing i worked on between art trades

[thisismeracing]

This love is ours | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader ― Word count: 1.4k ― Warnings: mentions of food, daddy issues, an ex-girlfriend, and reader getting hate; ― Summary: Relationships aren’t usually easy. Add to it the fact that you date a world champion racing driver, and your dad doesn’t really like said driver, and the media is ready to dissect every move you make. At the end of the day, the stakes are high and the waters can be rough, but what you share with Lewis is true love, and it’s yours (Based on this request).

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

You knew what came with dating Lewis, knew that his past lovers would eventually resurface — some fans would bring them to the table, others would bring themselves, like that one time she showed up in the paddock. Lip Gloss glowing, hair perfectly styled, and doe eyes.

“Hey, Lew!” she had a beaming smile on her face. One you can only get when you still hold something tender for the person in front of you. When they still represent something to you. And considering he was the one that ended things, it wasn’t hard to figure that maybe ‘something tender’ was aching desire, love, and intention of getting back together.

“Hey,” he gave her a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgment. And when his fingers dug into your waist, bringing you closer you released a small breath of air you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

“How’s life? I missed you so much!”

The way she held her arms beside her body, fidgeting with her hands you could tell she wanted to hug him, wanted him to do something, but then again, everyone would want affection from Lewis. It was like an antidote. He would smile at you, hug you, shake your hand, pat your back, and suddenly the sky wouldn’t look as gray.

You couldn’t blame her, but you did feel a bit uneasy with her presence.

“Life is great. Have you met my girlfriend Yn?” Lewis turns to you, and this time his smile is softer, you can see his teeth, and the gap between them you adored. His hold on you tightens and you’re so into your own world gazing into each other's eyes that you don’t even notice how said ex-girlfriend gulped, moving from one foot to the other in clear discomfort.

No one else’s mattered when you had each other.

Ghosts from the past weren’t the only problem you faced with Lewis too. You had villains from the present too, and unfortunately, they happened to be close to you two, not by choice, but by blood.

“So, how's the racing career?” There’s a hint of judgment in your father’s voice.

It was typical of him to start things during family dinners. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you and Lewis were together for about a year now, and you were tired of listening to whatever bad thing your dad had to say about him. He would usually stick with snarky remarks about his piercings, and style, and though Lewis would always tell you he didn’t mind, you knew it hurt him because, in all honesty, it hurt you too.

“Good, we’re making some improvements on the car, hopefully, we’ll get pole this Sunday,” Lewis answers, completely ignoring your father’s tone and intentions. He lived with “kill ‘em with kindness” most of the time, but that was him not you, because the second your dad made yet another snarky remark, this time about his tattoos, you dropped your silverware on the table.

“Can you please leave us? Stop pointing your judging eyes at Lewis as if you were the best person in the universe. I’m tired of your conservative attitude, while you go around doing all the wrong things. Yes, Lewis got a new tattoo, and yes I fucking love it, and you know what? I will be getting one soon too. Do I lose my value because I decided to paint my body? I don’t think so, right, dad?”

You felt your face hot with anger, and by the stare your mom gave you, you knew it was clear how your words were actually thrown and not simply stated. You didn’t care. You were tired of the constant critique.

“I suppose those are old jokes, huh? I’m going to try and move past them,” your dad stated as if the things he had been saying had any hint of humor in them. Lewis’ hand found your leg, and he gave it a light squeeze, making you take a deep breath, and lace your fingers under the table.

He had you, and you had him.

Side by side no bad comment would bring you down and let you there.

And as it happens, when you’re dating someone as famous as Lewis, it may seem like there's always someone who disapproves. Someone to judge as if they know him and you, but you came to learn that those verdicts usually came from those with nothing else to do.

You had just opened your socials to check what was happening world-wise but came face to face with some gossip magazine hate article about how you did not support Lewis properly. You frowned reading the title but still clicked to see what their point was. And just like you predicted before reading everything it was a total of five terribly written paragraphs, based on nothing but false perceptions they had. It wasn’t the first time you got hate online because you were associated with Lewis. He was loved around the globe, but he was also hated because with the kind of fame and talent he had it came with both, the good and the bad. Whereas you would get pissed with those who bad-mouthed him, you wouldn’t spare a glance when the hate was towards you, too busy trying to focus on the good things to worry about people who had no idea about what was really going on.

Of course, some comments would hurt, and one thing here and there could plant a small seed in your head for a weekend, but it wouldn’t go past that. You wouldn’t let it. Lewis wouldn’t let it.

“What is it, love?” Lewis’ soft tone took your attention away from the phone.

You smiled up at him, closing your eyes when his lips found your forehead.

“Just people being hateful,” you explained, making space for him on the bed.

The Brit sighed, passing one arm over your shoulders, and bringing you close, “and you’re reading it?”

There’s no judgment on his voice, but rather sheer curiosity as to why you would indulge in something you know wouldn’t be good. You shrug, “I wanted to see what the point was, this one says I don’t support you properly.”

“They’re probably aiming to implant cheerleaders into F1 or something,” he joked, as he usually did, blessing the room with his giggle. You loved how he would laugh with his own jokes.

“Possibly,” you bit your lips and chuckle.

You wouldn’t post much about Lewis’ racing career on your socials, limiting it to commenting on his posts or liking an article here and there. On your profile, he was just your boyfriend, and if there was someone in the world who didn’t know who Lewis Hamilton was and saw him there, they would probably just guess he was a rich guy and go about their days. Both of you had agreed on keeping things like this, Lewis agreed with whatever would make you comfortable. And though you wouldn’t post much, you were by his side every Sunday, some weeks getting to him on Friday.

“They don’t know about me and you, love,” he stated simply, and you threw your phone somewhere in the room, getting comfortable beside the one person who matters. Your person.

Life played its part in love too. It could make everything look hard, and turn the stakes high, but once you’re set in your commitment, love is something worth trying for. At least that was something you and Lewis were sure about since the beginning.

“I’m sorry, I just really miss you and I was stressed,” Lewis spoke apologetically the second you picked up the phone.

He was somewhere around the globe, getting ready for Sunday, while you were at home, dealing with work and personal business. You wanted to be with him just like every weekend, but this time you weren’t able to and Lewis pushed a bit during a call, asking yet again for you to join him when you two had already talked about it.

You sigh, body relaxing on the couch. You hated when they fought being each on one side of the world. “It’s ok, Lew. I get it you’re under a lot of pressure. Don’t worry about me giving up because of a small fight,” you joked by the end making him chuckle. “We promised to try,” you reminded.

Lewis nodded even though you couldn’t see him, “Our love is worth it, it’s ours.”

“Yes, honey. This love is ours.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you liked the piece, this was a request based on ours by Taylor Swift as I guess most of you could tell hihi. I hope this narrative switch with italics and regular writing didn't get you guys confused. Let me know if you liked it *mwah*  I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Coffee (my coffee emoji anon on Tumblr) for proofreading this <3.  

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @scorpiobleue @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @skepvids @soph1644 @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.  

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #millie writes #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 fluff #lewis hamilton fluff #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula one x you #lewis hamilton x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 2023

[theimpossiblescheme]

For Coricopat, their humans’ house really was haunted.  Even if not by the kinds of ghosts they could reach out to and speak with.  Even if they knew how to speak to a human’s remains they way they could a cat’s.  They took it on faith every time Mr. Lewis held his precious books.

His mother, an old woman named Bernadette (“Bernie” to her friends and family) lived in an old translation of The Odyssey.  It was a rather clunky translation, struggling to make the ancient poetry flow so well in English as it had in Greek, and some passages sounded a little too much like the labor of some old professor’s pen than something Munkustrap could weave on a stormy night.  But it was a first edition, still bearing a smudged autograph from that same professor even if the spine was crumbling and the pages smelled like butter and hand oil.  Apparently Bernie had still cried when Odysseus reunited with Telemachus after twenty years away, and Cori couldn’t deny that the tiny, loopy-lettered annotations around the description of Calypso’s island made them ache for some long-past life.  Mr. Lewis could apparently vividly remember the way Bernie would read certain pages, and his voice would take on new inflections, new pauses to really let the suspense of the escapes from Polyphemus or the Underworld sink in.  And Cori could feel the same presence in the creaking of the old rocking chair, the highest shelves in the larder, and the way Ms. Grenaway would complain about her knees on cold nights in the garden–almost like a second voice echoing her pains.

Gwen–the famous Gwen, the artist Gwen, the Gwen he’d married–lived in a water-damaged copy of Anne of Green Gables.  She’d dropped it in the bath one afternoon and then immediately vaulted into the sitting room and held it open in front of the fire to dry, not even bothering to throw on a towel first.  Her skin was very red and her hair a frizzy mess by the time Mr. Lewis found her, but she’d blushed (almost as red as her widower’s cheeks when he told the story) and confessed that she couldn’t bear to let the book be destroyed.  It was a children’s book, she admitted, far too simple fare for a grown woman like herself… but she couldn’t help it.  She loved it.  That was always the way Mr. Lewis ended his telling–”she loved it.”  Always in the same tone of voice, a soft and almost palpable ache in his voice, like a twinging shoulder before a rainstorm.  He would read in that same tone of voice, too, even the pages were the letters swam from the bathwater, looking off into the middle distance as he recited them from memory.  And Cori fancied they could hear her voice, too, in the crackling of the radio, the gentle rattle of the old pipes, and the whistling wind by the window that also made them feel grateful to live in a world with Octobers.

Their daughter Lizzie lived in a dog-eared second edition of The Wind in the Willows.  Or rather, she would have.  She could have, if she’d been born.  Gwen so wanted a baby, and Mr. Lewis would have been thrilled to give her one, but it was not to be.  Cori only had to tell one would-be mother that it would never be safe, and they hoped never to do so again.  They imagined the crying would be very similar to that night in the healers’ den as they and Jenny tried to ease her pain.  Still, it never stopped the humans from imagining their little girl.  To hear Mr. Lewis tell it, she would have been the spitting image of her mother, dark-haired and dark-eyed with an eye for beauty and the prettiest laugh a baby could have.  The only concession he’d make for himself was that maybe she’d be short, ignoring the possibility that he could pass on his long delicate hands, his soft and pleasant face, or the way his voice could pierce through you like no human Cori had ever met.  They never settled on what her name would be short for, but everything else about her seemed so clear.  Mr. Lewis read from the book that would have been her birthday present with the same patience and animation that he would for any child, even coming up with distinct voices for every character and playfully confessing that Grahame should have written another book for the hard-done-by weasels.  And the more he described her, the more Cori could feel the possibilities in the birdsong in the trees, the buzzing of visiting honeybees, and the ever-present purrs and laughter each night around the hearth.

“One day, I suppose all these will have to go to you,” Mr. Lewis said one evening, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he stroked Cori’s fur.  “Promise me you’ll take good care of them when I’m gone, eh?”  Cori hated to admit that they couldn’t read, but perhaps they could ask Asparagus to teach them.  They had to give these spirits the home they deserved, after all.

#I had to write a companion piece for Tanto's--it just kind of fell out of me and I'm rather proud of where it ended up. <3 #tw: infertility #cats the musical #coricopat

[viviskull]

@eathandhax​ : x

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Hey what are you— ❞

They exclaim, finding themself pulled into a tight hug, arms somewhat pinned to their sides as they stand there rather awkwardly. Wide eyes keep shifting between looking around the room to the ghost currently hugging them.

It wasn’t as if they didn’t like hugs- they usually loved them. They love closeness, physical touch, but this hug had come so out of the blue- and so suddenly after they were caught writing that letter.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Lewis? W-Why are you— ❞

They gulp the words, feeling a pressure build behind their eyes, emotions flooding in despite their attempts to fight them off. The length of the hug- still going for minutes now it seemed, making their battle against themself all the more futile.

They hadn’t been hugged like this, not in a long time, a strong long hug that grounded them, made them feel secure,

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Y-You– ❞

They wheeze, tears suddenly slipping down their cheeks as the battle is finally lost, a soft gasp, and they bring their arms up to wrap around the other’s torso. Clinging to him as they silently let the tears stream past his shoulder into the floor. Despite not being able to see their face, the way their body shakes, their breathing quick and hitched, it’s not hard to tell what they were feeling.

If you were to ask as to why he was really doing this?  This spirit wouldn’t have given you a real clear answer, much less even a simple shrug of his shoulders.  Lewis didn’t really mean to wander into their sleeping quarters like the way he did; floating right on through the open door that was left just ajar too wide, practically inviting anybody to take a peek inside.  Being tasked earlier by their companion, Eath, he had originally been given the charge of helping them clean out the cabin (like dusting out cobwebs and spiders, sweeping out any dust that may’ve littered their wooden floors, and maybe even move any unpacked boxes that Eath hadn’t have the time of clearing out herself when they first claimed this seemingly abandoned cabin), and he mostly agreed to it out of part of his own quiet guilt.  After accidentally burning half of their front door down the last time he came to visit (which had also been the first time they properly met)?  He didn’t have the courage to show his face to them much beyond sending apologetic treats through Vivi, or that was up until Arthur finally pushed him out of his own funk to do something for a change through him innocently stopping by.

In all honesty, since he was given so little to do in the hopes to make up for his last blazing intrusion, he did kinda wander out on his own to explore the cabin a little (even as it seemed pretty limited in the few rooms it had to discover) if only to get himself more acquainted with its interlayout.  Sure, he shouldn’t be sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, but he was taking a large pile of books to move into the bedroom anyway.  They didn’t make a complaint when he quietly moved in.  Even when he did try to make himself scarce after he had already since settled the books onto the bed to be sorted for later, Lewis couldn’t help his gaze falling upon the with the thick journal as he drifted behind their shoulder, floating over the other’s shoulder to suffice his silent curiosity.  How was he to know Hax was in the middle of writing something extremely personal, much less something that had involved a brief entry about him and his colorful pals?  His eyes briefly glanced over their writing, no more than a small paragraph screaming his name that had coincidentally caught his eye.  There was so much heart being poured into the worn down page, it being filled with so much uncertainty being put into the text that he didn’t at all feel buzzing about this stoic Daemon moments before.

Maybe it could’ve been the urge of the moment, or even how he felt a little bit touched that they didn’t seem to hold any resentment towards him; back when they last parted, even on decent terms, he still wasn’t sure if he could’ve faced his own embarrassment again.  But something stirred in his locket, as he read their words in silence that he noticed how much endearment had been written in this intriguing letter, it had been addressed to someone of grand affection.. Yet he couldn’t shake off the quiet feeling of sorrow that flew from the page.  Someone had been lost, he could feel in his core.  Maybe it could’ve been his sympathy talking, or even if he felt he could relate in some stances in this odd circumstance.

But most of all, before he could even stop himself to think about it, Lewis made his presence known with a moving set of his arms circling about his friend; all to pull them in for an embracing hug.  Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all.  He was only moved to bring the other close, if not more to suppress the tears at the warm fuzziness that suddenly pooled around his locket.

His arms hold themselves firm about them in an unyielding embrace, the inky colors of his dark suit wrapped about them tenderly into his snug hold.  A startling warmth waves over the other the more he holds them closely to his bulky chest.  It was strange, sure.  They never spoke much beyond the few letters he wrote for them and Eath, yet still it was far and in between the many sweets he sent.  But still, he was compelled to offer the other comfort, if only just a little.  Attempting to rub some soothing circles into their back as he nearly loomed over them (despite that, he still had to crouch just a little to properly hug them), all he could muster then was a low, acknowledging hum.

“.. I know.”  He whispers then.  “It.. just seemed like you needed this a.. a lot right now.”

#Ah! I love acting! {RP Thread} #Oh my sweet lil Lulu~! {Lewis} #Write it down! {Canon} #Icon Cred: nahusnab #eathandhax #long post cw // #((they BOTH needed this tbh)) #((hugs make the teamwork!))

[oh-no-another-idea]

Find the word: an Invisible Girl update 🚂

Guuuyyyssss guess who reopened Invisible Girl and actually wrote more than a thousand words?????? I have no clue about how I get bogged down on certain wips at certain times, and then after awhile, the block just vanishes and I can go on again. It’s been a month or so break from this one, and I’m so glad to get back at it 😁 

Tagged by the wonderful @on-noon to search for safe, friend, pure, drift and away--thank you! This is gonna get long, so TAGS for @pga-books @catchingbigfish @marinesocks @artdecosupernova-writing @marigoldispeculiar @nopoodles @eccaiia and anyone else who sees this and would like to join! New words to find: explanation, people, lightbulb, and time!

Safe:

“What time is it?”

Fynn looked around again. “I don’t know and the clock’s over there—”

“No, just come on, let’s go.” Velia pushed forward. The platforms were ahead, only partially covered, and if it started raining…

They pushed through the crowds back toward their platform. Velia could picture it in her minds eye—Antonio’s stateroom and Fynn’s family safe inside, and Crowley unable to run for three days and the plans somewhere aboard for her sticky fingers to locate.

Friend:

Fynn’s sister looked quizzingly at Velia and Paris. Fynn turned toward Velia excitedly. “This is my friend—” he broke off, confused, staring at Velia guiltily. “Uh—”

“I’m Paris,” Paris said smoothly, holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Velia shrunk back against the sleek wall panels. Maybe there was something worse than always being alone. Maybe it was this: half and half, always caught in a limbo. One foot in the waking world, one foot in the dream.

She’d almost rather none of them knew her at all.

Pure:

“We can’t throw away the whole idea on pure ideology,” Paris said into the quiet. “This is bigger than us, bigger than our limited knowledge. Can’t you see we need to be cautious about it?”

“So you don’t care that it’s killing people, that it’s trading one set of lives for another,” Fynn bit out. They were, Velia thought, seeing a very real and very hard side of him for the first time.

Drift:

“I’m the [Ghost Train in the story],” Velia said slowly, feeling it out. “Drifting on the edges, invisible.”

Paris turned his head just the slightest bit but didn’t even try to look over. “It’s just a story.”

“Lewis has heard [The Ghost Train],” Fynn pointed out. “And I’ve met others who claim the same.”

Away:

Velia knew that there were doors and rooms on either side of her, but while her eyes adjusted, she could no more have seen them than a pink elephant with a clown riding on top.

“You can’t have run away that fast,” Paris said, now doing the idiotic thing where he talked to himself and gambled that Velia would grow vexed enough to speak up. “I know you’re listening, and I know you’re intrigued by the engine. By the machine.”

He held up a piece of paper. Velia did not ask what he was doing.

“Maybe, if I sketch you in the dark, I’ll come closer to the truth.”

“You won’t,” Velia said, and then wanted to kick herself. Damn him.

#tag games #find the word tag #wip: invisible girl

[mariacallous]

In the 20 years since, there hasn’t been another Wellstone, exactly — no politician has talked like him, walked like him, wrestled like him. (A championship college wrestler, he had been inducted into the National Wrestling Hall of Fame in 2001.) Wellstone Action, the nonprofit formed to carry on his work, recently reconstituted itself as Re:Power to focus more narrowly on racial and gender justice, dropping Wellstone’s sons from its board and his name altogether. The green bus that ferried his campaigns across the state, in fits and starts, has been dragged from one farm to another around Northfield, its mercurial motor finally kaput.

Yet there has never been more Wellstone! in government. Senators Smith and Amy Klobuchar, Gov. Tim Walz and Lt. Gov Peggy Flanagan, Attorney General Keith Ellison and U.S. Attorney Andy Luger — all were inspired, at some point, by Wellstone. In the statehouse, despite high turnover, many Democrats still have a Wellstonian pedigree. State Sen. Kari Dziedzic served as his executive assistant. State Rep. Frank Hornstein volunteered on his 1982 campaign for state auditor. House Majority Leader Ryan Winkler drove Mondale around during his short-lived 2002 campaign.

���His legacy is thinking about how to build power,” says Smith, who now holds Wellstone’s seat. “By organizing, by building power around people who aren’t rich and powerful themselves. He built power not for himself—though he was ambitious about what he wanted to accomplish—but for others. It’s certainly how I approach my job. And that is a straight line to Senator Wellstone.”

—

The ghost of Wellstone is so ubiquitous as to make Minnesota seem haunted by his memory. When the New Yorker profiled Ellison a few years ago, the writer visited the Twin Cities and reported that “Wellstone is a key figure in Minnesota’s long liberal tradition; while I was there, everyone I spoke to invoked him.”

If everyone knew Wellstone, however, it’s because Wellstone knew everyone. David Wellstone, his older son, remembers his father running parade routes “from side to side, sweating profusely” to greet as many people as possible. Connie Lewis, Wellstone’s former state director, calls him “probably the most extroverted person I’ve ever known.”

“He was everywhere all the time,” says former Minneapolis Mayor Betsy Hodges, who met him shortly after moving back to Minnesota in 1998. She was impressed by how much talent he had assembled around him: “smart, good-hearted people, who, for the most part, were in it for the right reasons.”

Tom Berg, a former U.S. attorney and state legislator who ran against Wellstone for the DFL endorsement for the Senate in 1990, had watched him build support for years. “We would sit in the back of the hall at various DFL conventions, and it was clear for a long time that Paul planned to run for office,” he says. The caucus and convention system really mattered then — you didn’t run without seeking the party’s nomination — and Wellstone knew it.

“He had excellent rhetorical skills that none of us could match,” Berg says, “and a flair for entertainment.” He remembers Wellstone bringing a grogger to a convention — a noisemaker of the sort that’s spun on New Year’s Eve or Purim, the Jewish holiday — to get people’s attention. “Theatrical is a fair word, he had a sense of that, but he also had a wonderful grasp of politics.”

Ellison first met him in North Minneapolis, in a park where a housing community had been demolished (now rebuilt as Heritage Park). “I was fresh out of law school and I was asking him a challenging question,” Ellison says, “sort of like here’s Mr. Senator Man, I’m gonna see if he can answer this. And you know what? He was so kind and so patient and he took me seriously. He looked me straight in the eye and gave me a straightforward answer, and then he asked who I was and what I was up to. And I thought, ‘This guy, this is a special person.’”

Ellison thinks of politics, in some ways, as Before and After Paul. “Look, before Paul there were always people who stood up for values of inclusion and the environment,” he says, “but they usually lost. Because they didn’t really make it pragmatic. Paul made sure his message made sense to those who would benefit the most. It’s moral politics and good politics, but it’s also winning politics. And he proved that.”

Ellison won his first race for office in 2002, joining the Minnesota House, and has won every race he’s competed in since. “Wellstone is the blueprint for my political career,” he says. “We do it like he did it. It’s the Wellstone way.”

—

In January 2004, I went to Camp Wellstone, an intensive weekend workshop organized by Wellstone Action. Over the next decade, at camps across the country, tens of thousands of activists and potential candidates would be trained to win hearts and minds the Wellstone way. This one was at the University of St. Thomas, in St. Paul, a little more than a year after Wellstone’s death. Things still felt raw. I was told to mark my nametag “PRESS” so participants could avoid me if they wanted: “Some people get uncomfortable.”

You could learn to make a campaign ad or write a press release or get an “ask” — a commitment to phone bank, door knock, or whatever needed doing. A PowerPoint slide advised, “Remember: Body position, eye contact, and SMILE!” (Full disclosure: One of the students I interviewed, who had volunteered for Wellstone’s 1996 campaign while still in high school and was apparently unfazed by my press badge, would eventually become my wife.) Ellison gave a talk. Flanagan, who had volunteered for Wellstone’s 2002 campaign while a student at the University of Minnesota, was a seminar leader.

The following year, Walz took the camp’s candidate class, as did Luger and Mark Ritchie. “I came out of it thinking this is a noble profession,” Walz told me. “Politics doesn’t need to be a pejorative.” Two years later, Ritchie was Minnesota’s secretary of state and Walz was Minnesota’s 1st District congressman.

Walz was Flanagan’s student at Camp Wellstone. In a statement to MinnPost, Flanagan says, “walking by the Wellstone for Senate office my senior year of college changed the entire trajectory of my life. I would not be where I am today if not for Senator Paul Wellstone and his vision for Minnesota.” Walz says it was “Wellstone’s passion that inspired me to run for Congress in Southern Minnesota. Senator Wellstone never wavered from his convictions or his commitment to improving the lives of working people.”

Hodges, too, had never run for anything when, in October 2002, then-State Rep. Scott Dibble suggested she run for Minneapolis City Council. She demurred. Two weeks later, Wellstone died, and she changed her tune. “Paul had done so much for so many of us,” she says. “I thought if someone I respect thinks some of that work should go on my shoulders now, I should take that seriously.”

Hodges, who now lives in Washington, D.C., and consults with corporate and civic groups on racial equity, says she sometimes thinks of Wellstone as Luke Skywalker at the end of Return of the Jedi. “He doesn’t forget that Darth Vader still has good in him,” she says, “just as Paul was capable of remembering the humanity of everyone—including people whose policies were inhumane, whose behavior was repugnant. We have a thirst for that as human beings that we don’t recognize or honor nearly enough.”

I wonder if Wellstone is also like Obi-Wan Kenobi, whose end marks the beginning of something larger. Hodges says, “You know, I am so grateful for all the good that has come in the wake of Paul’s death. But I can’t say with full honesty that I would trade any of it for him.”