#[ as wanted posters literally are clear on this. ]

[unforth]

Sometimes I wish I could drive home just how little of Chinese fandom culture actually makes it onto Tumblr at all, much less circulates in western Tumblr circles, and I've finally got a solid example.

On this list I reblogged a not long ago, Poyun, which I started reading on Bilibili the other day, has the 93rd most popular ship on all of Lofter, with over 15,000 posts. By comparison, the 93rd most popular ship of that same year (2020) on Tumblr was from Haikyuu, and from 2021 the 93rd most popular was from Miraculous Lady Bug - which is to say, even if you're not into, it's a fandom you've almost certainly heard of if you move in fandom circles at all. Like, those are two fandoms with known, huge followings. Likewise, Yan Xie/Jiang Ting is a big deal ship on Lofter.

I started reading the manhua a few days ago, so I know I'm gonna be posting some of the manhua art to @cnovelartreblogs so I was like, I should check the main tags and queue the art (even if it means I might be exposed to spoilers), and then I won't accidentally duplicate other people's art posting efforts or anything.

Now, granted, I've seen some evidence that tag search is more broken than usual the last few days, but even so...

#po yun: there are maybe 30 posts in "most popular"

#破云: there are maybe 20 posts in "most popular," and they're basically all the same (as in, people tagged both)

#poyun: about the same number, and the only 3 pieces of fanart I can find on the whole platform (@drawulan you don't know me but you are a BLESSING to C-Novel fandoms with small followings on Tumblr. A BLESSING, YOU HEAR? I LOVE YOUR ART.)

Y'all, we have no idea how little we actually know and see about what's popular in Chinese fandom.

[araneitela]

Stop, stop, stop. There is only one 'Destiny's Slave' in the boundaries of Honkai: Star Rail, and that is Elio. Whether speaking about Kafka, Blade, Silver Wolf, and Firefly as a collective or as their own individual selves, the Stellaron Hunters are not "Destiny's Slave(s)".

You can call every living entity in HSR a 'slave to destiny' if you so insist, as that is honestly a common perception of destiny in media and in our actual lives, but that does not make it our title. Elio is the only one, the only one, directly referenced (and capitalized accordingly as one would do with a title) as 'Destiny's Slave'. Singular, not plural. Never once is it utilized in plural form, and capitalized like that. So stop taking it from him. Stop giving it out to the others and diminishing what it means for him within the greater narrative of the story.

Here, let me explain the fundamental issue behind taking this from his character, it lays with the burden that he bears. For just a second, imagine being able to see all the ways in which destiny can unfold: you can see the destruction of worlds and of the lives that inhabit them, of which some may be dear to you. You see things that you don't ask to see or may never want to see, but you have to bear it. And then there's the reality that that's the only power you hold, and you are powerless to directly influence it yourself, or stop it from occurring in any way. You know what that makes you? Destiny's Slave. That's one hell of a cruel 'destiny', isn't it; to bear witness, but no more than that?

Seriously, think again before you call Kafka, Blade, Silver Wolf or Firefly 'one of Destiny's Slaves' or 'Destiny's Slave' individually, for it's not what they are. Stop taking something from one character, to then also, quite frankly, mischaracterize the others afterwards.

[aeide-thea]

dipping my toe into fandom discourse here, which is never a great idea, but—i really am baffled by the contingent of fans who apparently want AO3 to not only denounce but ban AI-generated works, as if there were any reliable way to distinguish between mediocre writing produced by a human and mediocre writing produced by an AI…?

[meme-loving-stuck]

I've made more sales in ONE (1) month from sharing my shop posts on reddit than i did in almost a year from sharing on tumblr... the internet is sad and confusing now

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Harlequin AU - "Stalemate" (canon, fic)

This is a wip art! It will be updated in the future.

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One step.

Leather shoes made their way on uneven grounds.

The crinkling of glass underneath the soles made their way prominent to the stepper’s ears, but she couldn’t care less.

This was the last known location of the man she’d been tracking for a while now. And this is the moment of truth. Did she still got it? Or will she fall as a trophy on a mantle?

Time to find out.

Squeaks of a rusty metal gate aired out into the open, gathering the attention of a few unwanted pests. But in quick succession, they were no more, swiftly falling prey to the sharp blade of the Puppet. There was not even a chance for them to strike.

Satisfied with her work, she straddles into the grounds of the mansion. First, the gardens.

One could say it was a serene scene, but for her it was a mere distraction. Unimportant. Simply delaying the inevitable.

She steps out into the lush open grass of the area. A huge empty space filled with nothing but prickly green underneath the blue hues of the night. She found amusement in the fact that there’s a chance she can ruin this place once she meets her opponent.

A lone, mossy fountain sat on the front. Not interesting.

She makes her way onto the stairs of the mansion entrance. Each step fills her with more vigor, excitement coursing through her being. The giant, elegant oak door groaned in protest as she pushed it open.

Empty.

No matter, there were many rooms.

She quickly hears the puttering sound of rotor blades spinning, and she looks to her right, finding a mini-blimp with a literal sharp smile, and a vacant expression on it’s glossy eyes.

“Hellloooooo,” it said, dragging the last syllable playfully, “Can I help you with anything?” The blimp asked with not a care in the world.

“I’m looking for someone.” The Puppet claims, pulling out a parchment of a wanted poster. It was useless to waste her energy on this… creature. So she will entertain it’s questions for now.

“Oh! You’re looking for the boss! I’ll lead you to him!” The blimp confirms her suspicions.

He was in this place, and she’d successfully tracked her target down. Now all that was needed was proof of her soon-to-be victory. It was only by a few rooms that she’d found him.

But the sight wasn’t as grand as she envisioned.

She expected a confident, prideful, and powerful fighter….

NOT whatever this mess who’s currently laying on the ground and leaning deactivated against an office desk was. WHAT THE FUCK.

Did she seriously come all this way for nothing?! She felt a little furious, and she redirected her burning gaze onto the blimp, grasping tightly onto the sword and pointing it’s sharp end with malice. The Blimp did not seem to react at her wordless threat at all, still flashing a sharp smile as it slowly turned to face her.

“EXPLAIN.” She demanded. “HE CAN’T BE ALREADY DEACTIVATED.”

“Oh, this is just something that happens allllll the time. Give him a little time.” The Blimp answered, and turned it’s attention back to 'the boss'. She kicked a leg, no response.

“Let me try!” The Blimp says, and with a clearing of it’s throat, it shouts. “BOSS! Someone’s here to see you!”

And in an instant, the exposed chest of the man lit up in two separate hues, and he sits up straight as if plunged underwater for long.

“GAH! WHA- WHO IS IT!” He yelps in surprise, holding a glass bottle by it’s neck as if ready to throw. His shocked gaze soon falls on…. To the Harlequin, who unveils her tattered covers protecting her from outside elements, and reveals her face.

“Puppetmaster. I’ve come to challenge you.”

He blinks a couple of times with wide eyes, and his stare keeps shifting from the blimp, to her, and then repeat. After a while, his gaze falters and an unimpressed groan escapes the strange Puppet across from her. “Not again…” He mutters under his breath. "Bubble, what did I tell you about letting people you don't know in?"

...Not again?

“Wh- What do you mean “not again”- This is the FIRST time I’ve come here!” She replied, and the Puppetmaster only crosses his arms as soon as he manages to get up on two feet.

“And it certainly won’t be the LAST, I see.” He shuffles away, the metal cane tapping to the marble ground with each step he took, and the Harlequin is left utterly confused. She grumpily follows him to the main lounge, ready to demand once more.

“Are you fucking deaf or what? I said I’ve come to challenge you!”

“Not interested.” He feels around in a bookshelf, pulling out a rather large tome. He opens it and retrieves a bottle full of liquid.

He was really testing her patience, huh?

As soon as he turns around, The Harlequin makes quick work of slicing the bottle in half just to show how serious she is. The glass quickly detaches, and the liquid spills onto the floor, leaving the Puppetmaster with an unamused, disappointed stare.

“.... That was the last of it’s kind, by the way. You just killed off one of my favorite drinks” He replies with a hint of unserious humor, and it makes her teeth grit in frustration.

“I AM NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE UNTIL I GET WHAT I FUCKING CAME FOR!” She angrily responds. “So you either stop with your shit and fight me, OR ELSE.” She points the sword straight at his core, and the pair of dentures simply rolls his eye to the side, and pushes the blade away.

“Hmm. You know, for a moment, I really thought you were different.” He drops to the floor and detaches a tile after tapping at a seemingly hollow tile with the cane, revealing yet another hidden compartment full of unknown bottles. He sticks his tongue out a little as he reaches for them, but as soon as one was retrieved, The Harlequin repeats the same action as before, as well as shattering the other bottles within.

He blinks once, then twice. “Can you stop wasting the only thing that’s keeping me from jumping off of the deep end, pretty please?” He pleads, but it’s completely devoid of sincerity.

She growls, and grabs his collar. He is slightly surprised, but quickly goes back to his uncaring attitude while staring at her grip. “Umm… Normally I would not mind the touch, but you’re wrinkling my shirt.” His carefree attitude was picking at her nerves, and she bares her sharp teeth at him. His eyes widen a little, but it’s clearly not from fear.

He shakes it off, and squints at her humorlessly, unfazed by the threat.

“I am not repeating myself again, Puppetmaster. FIGHT. ME.” There’s a surprising yet subtle hint of desperation in her tone, but it was heavily masked by her aggressive tone and he finds himself disgruntled at his own thoughts.

He sighs.

“I don’t see a point in accepting that offer from a rookie like you, who doesn’t seem to know what fights they wanna pick… But fine.” He relents, “I’ll entertain you a little. I’d rather not cause more mess than usual for my little helper, though. All I ask is that we pick a different location.”

She was a little insulted at the term he had called her. But she swallowed her pride down in favor of the fact that he was finally agreeing to the duel. “Very well then.” She lets go of the collar. “I’m fine with any location of your choosing.”

“Much appreciated, dear. I know an abandoned circus arena that is ideal for this.” He taps his cane to the ground, in contemplation.

“In fact… I think you might like it as much as I do.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

It wasn’t the walk towards this “arena” that was agonizing.

But rather the wait she had to comply with if she wanted his participation. Nonetheless, he parts the curtains that cover the entrance, but she only crosses her arms and taps her foot. She was antsy, and his stare was questioning.

“You… won’t go first?”

“Why would I? You’re leading the way.” She replies in clear annoyance.

His gaze shifts to the entrance, trying not to be bothered about this as he makes his way inside. As soon as the Harlequin makes her way inside, spotlights let out a loud click as they all simultaneously turn on, all shining at the sand-filled arena slightly damaged by time… or something else entirely.

There’s a little prickling feeling that settles in her chest, and she can sense her core thrum in dissonance. But she doesn’t understand it, so naturally, she shrugs it off as if it never existed.

The Puppetmaster has had his back turned against her all this time. His head hung low, as if staring into the very ground. But she simply clutches at her sword with her left arm, the grip making a loud metallic clunk. He taps his cane to the ground, and it echoes throughout the tent despite the consistency of the very plane they stand on.

“Are you ready?” His voice, despite them being meters apart, is loud, bold and clear.

She grips her sword harder, unsheathing a little. Her right feet drags across the ground, an obvious stance of preparation before the action.

His eyes are hidden, depriving her of reading his full intent once he turns to face his opponent. Nonetheless, she squints, wordlessly giving him her answer.

The cane taps onto the ground yet again, and she rushes like a cobra. There’s a faint hum of voices in the background but she can’t decipher it.

Distractions.

That was all it is.

And a fighter does NOT get distracted.

She unsheathes the sword fully, ready to lunge as soon as she was close enough. A battle cry escapes her as she swings at the sudden cloud of dust that appeared in front of her.

“Slow.”

He easily avoids the swing, and she barely has a second to react at the speed of his movements, finding herself stumbling. Utterly confused, she quickly turns around to face where he had gone. He was now in the middle of the arena, side-eyeing her with interest that she interprets as complete mockery. 

She clutches the sword with both hands and another battle scream erupts from her. He grips at his cane harder, eyes once more hidden as his jaws snap shut in focus. She leaps into the air to bring down a hard slash, but his cane blocks her attempt, and it results in sparks flying from the exertion of force between both parties.

The Puppetmaster quickly ends this standstill by pushing her back, making her feet drag across the ground from the force by a mile.

“...Yet adept form.” He comments, squinting his eyes at her.

She wipes away at her face, just in case. Her posture straightens in confusion, but it is quickly taken over by anger. “YOU ASSHAT, STOP OBSERVING ME AND FIGHT!” a complain, but her expression changes to confusion once more as he disappears in a cloud of dust from her sight.

Where the FUCK did he go NOW?!

His form appears out of nowhere. Looming over. His eyes are devoid of pupils, and for a moment, she finds herself stuttering.

“H-HOLD ON W-WA-WAIT JUST A SECOND!”

There was no time for waiting in a duel of course, but it slipped from her mouth before she could even think about it fully. She could only assume that he was disorienting her, and it was working effectively.

His cane twirls on his hand, and he uses the other end of the metal rod to push her to bend backwards, just to avoid the flaring poke of electricity surging through the cane. There was no time for the Harlequin to get back up, and she cursed herself for making rookie mistakes, and proving his words right.

What was wrong with her today, of all days?

He sweeps her legs, knocking her off-balance down to the ground, but her athletic build allowed for a very quick recovery, and she was back to steadying her stance again.

“Fascinating. What an impressive reflex. You have a fast recovery.” 

The Puppetmaster seems to be taking notes of her actions, and it was then that she realizes he was simply toying with her.

“Maybe this could work… Hm.”

Her sword drops to the ground a loud clank, which forces his gaze to look up at her. But it was too late.

A very hard kick met his face and he barely had the reaction time for it. He could feel the blow produce a gust of wind as he flew to the old safety bleachers (much to it’s destruction), and a loud crack permeated the air as one of his teeth flew off and broke in half.

A heavy cloud of yellow dust hid him from the view of the fuming Harlequin.

He rises up, seemingly unaffected until he reaches to check at the loss of a denticle. A black substance covered his gloves’ fingertips. His gaze once more lands on the Harlequin, who is now emitting visible hot steam from her body, breathing heavily as her eyes shone brightly with the intent of murder.

“I’ve HAD it up to HERE, with your STUPID ANTICS!” She stepped a foot onto the ground, and the cement underneath the sand crumbled. The lights slowly flickered in response, and his eyes widens in alert.

Uh oh. This was not good. The fight needs to be ended as fast as possible now.

“I suppose I should’ve been paying more attention to a duel.” He clutches at his cane for support as he stands up undamaged (besides the lost tooth), but lets go of it as soon as it’s job is complete.

If she won’t possess a weapon, then it wouldn’t be right for him to possess his either.

Both of them rushed at each other in high feats of speed, and a small crater was created as a proof of the intensity of the hit. When the Harlequin would deliver a punch, a dense gust of wind would be produced as the Puppetmaster blocked each time.

There was now more steam emitting from her body, and the clock was ticking. He had no choice.

With a revenge kick to her torso that she blocks with both arms, he sends her flying to where she had previously dropped her sword, as he rushes to his own “weapon” of choice too. 

She grabbed at the sword and rushed.

He grabbed his cane and did the same.

The speed executed between both parties was unmatched, and a heavy cloud was produced for the last time in the middle of the arena as both fighters collided their weapons.

Their gazes were intense, the Harlequin smiling when she pointed her sword directly at his core. But the blue light emitting from the Puppetmaster’s cane made her look down to where it was pointed.

It was also at her core.

Satisfied with the way the Harlequin stopped fighting out of slight confusion, he opts to explain the current situation.

“Now, you can pry open my core and deactivate me just as easily,” he starts. “... But if you so much as move the required centimeter to do so, the tip of my cane will touch your core which will shock your heart with the amount of electricity that can power 5 large cities.”

Her eyes widened.

“We’re both made of metal. How the fuck are you going to defend yourself from this?!”

“I won’t.”

It was a simple statement that made the Harlequin realize what he’s doing. “Do you have a shitty death wish or something? That’s crazy! There’s no way you can produce that much charge either, you’re just fucking bluffing!”

“Am I, now?” There was not a hint of humor nor sarcasm in his tone. He was dead serious.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

“We’re at a stalemate, dear.” She gripped the handle of her sword with much intensity, baring her teeth in frustration and denial.

“This fight is over.” He proclaims no winners, and the Harlequin begins to kick the remaining sand in the arena all around, throwing a temper tantrum.

“NO!” She shouted while gripping at her head, uncaring of the noise. “NO, NO, NO! THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO END THIS WAY! YOU CHEATED YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS, YOU-” Her joints stopped responding to her actions, and she finds herself kneeling onto the ground. Horror filled her entire system as she tried to decipher what’s happening, but before she knew it, All she could see now was the tattered, faded yellow-red stripes of the tent ceiling.

And then the view of his stupid dentures face came into her sight, and he was back to observing her again.

“You’re still functional, are you?”

“UNFORTUNATELY.” She grit her teeth.

“Hm.” An acknowledgement.

She could hear the way he takes a seat onto the ground beside her.

“You’re quite an odd one.”

“CAN YOU STOP TALKING.”

“Hm….” He contemplates. “No, I don’t think I will~.” There’s a smug pitch in his tone (that would’ve made a vein pop somewhere in her head if she was organic). “You’re the first sane Puppet I’ve talked to in a long while.”

… Was this somehow some kind of cruel punishment?

“Just let your body cool down and re-adjust for now. You really pushed yourself back there.” She couldn’t exactly tell what he was doing, but if the slightly muffled way of speaking was any indication, she could only assume he was checking his now missing tooth.

But that wasn’t what grabbed the Harlequin’s attention. Rather, she was slightly intrigued about how he knows what’s happened to her, when she didn’t.

“What are you even talking about? What’s happened to me?” She asked, temper slowly subsiding, although irritation was still present.

“What’s happened is that you accidentally began to overcharge yourself.” He was more than glad to explain. “Your body couldn’t keep up with the amount of energy spent, and now here you are, lying down on the ground.” He taps at the sand above her head with the golden sphere of his cane. “You also nearly overheated that you could’ve exploded your core. But you can’t feel that, can you?”

She sighs. “Of course I fucking don’t. I’m a Puppet. I don’t feel things, I just do things. At least that’s what I think I should be doing.”

There was a moment of silence between them, one that the Harlequin was more than glad to have. But almost as if being mocked by timing, this quiet was broken by the voice of Puppetmaster once more.

“What’s your directive.”

“Fight SOMETHING, I guess.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Tell me your FULL directive. I don’t want a summarized version.”

She sighs again. “FIND— FIGHT— PROTECT—- CITY—- FROM HARM.” There was a slight pause and a bit of glitching in her voice when she recited the blanks.

“…Well, I must say, this is quite the predicament.”

“Can you stop being so fucking cryptic and just tell me?!”

“... You’re broken.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“An incomplete line of command. It’s making you act on your own." He explains. "For shorter terms, you’re a loose cannon.” He mutters something else under his breath that the Harlequin couldn’t hear, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable tone with his delivery that she can’t decipher.

“Wha… what the hell does any of that mumbo jumbo even mean…” She would drag her hand across her face if she could right about now.

“Say, how would you feel about an alliance?”

“I feel like punching another one of your teeth out, that’s for sure.”

“I’m flattered, but also serious. You and I are quite possibly the only Puppets left sane here in this world. And I have an idea that I can only really do with YOUR help.”

“I’m not fucking interested in your passion project.”

“Your purpose seems to say otherwise.”

Her brow creases. “What, are you gonna say it involves fighting something?”

“Not just that. It’s also to protect this city from further harm.” Now that got her attention. She’s cautious, but in all honesty, also intrigued.

“We can discuss this even further once you’re all good to go. But for now…” He trails off as he stands up, and she can finally move a little bit of her joints on her fingers. Her body was seemingly cooling down to allow slight movements again.

“My name is Caine. Do you have a name?” For a moment, she senses a foreign bit of deja vu.

“... Just the code on my shoulder.”

“What is it?”

“P-1210.”

“Well, I can’t be calling you that. How about a proper one?”

“Whatever knocks your socks off, I guess.”

“ ‘Pomni’. What about ‘Pomni’. ”

There’s a response at her core that she couldn’t fully understand. But it seems that it wants her to agree.

“... Sure, I-I…I guess.”

“Pomni it is.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

[yogurtkags]

congrats on the milestone, cid!!! for the event, how about kageyama with YOUR favorite premise/trope? 🫵

❝ STUCK WITH YOU ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw. gn!reader, implied friends to lovers, forced proximity (there is only one bed), mutual pining, comfort, confessions, not beta read. word count. ~ 1.2k synopsis. whispered confessions and hesitant embraces of a boy in love event masterlist

well shit.

“i can take the floor—“ the both of you splutter out at the same time, causing a little giggle to escape your lips and even tobio to crack a tiny crooked smile, both of your cheeks flushing a light pink.

“the floor’s so uncomfortable, it’s going to ruin your back and you’re not going to like it during practice tomorrow.” you pointedly remark, eyebrow quirked and hands on your hips, thinking you’ve won with your argument.

the rain pelts against your bedroom windows, little taps growing progressively louder and faster and as the winds howl and the trees sway, like a ticking clock counting down to a verdict.

you gave him the option to stay over with his best interests in mind, he can’t afford walking home drenched in the rain and getting sick right now with a match in a few days. but the idea of being in such close proximity for a night with the boy who seized your heart causes it to hammer anxiously in your chest, like butterflies emerging from their cocoons. maybe i didn’t think this through.

crossing his arms over his chest with a scoff, he grumbles matter-of-factly, “and let you go through the discomfort instead? no way in hell.”

once he's made up his mind, there's no convincing him otherwise.

he swears that he cares so much for you, he just doesn't know how to express it in words without being a little blunt and sometimes a little mean, but you know he has good intentions. you wouldn't willingly be friends with him if he didn't, at least he hopes that's the case— his stomach threatens to drop at the idea that he had possibly made you feel upset in any sort of way. it might seem dramatic, but he'd rather die than make you feel like you'd have to walk on eggshells around him.

“well if you’re so against it, we can…" you clear your throat nervously, eyes darting across the floorboards and unable to meet his, "...share?"

tobio's cheeks burn with the implication of your words. the two of you, in bed, together, just the thought alone is enough to cause his brain to short-circuit, leaving him in a stuttering mess and avoiding your eyes, suddenly finding the band poster on your wall very interesting.

you would've missed his quiet "okay" if you weren't looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction from the corner of your eye, his voice barely above a whisper, “but i’m pushing you off if you kick me.”

“excuse you, it’s literally my bed?!”

“dumbass.”

with a huff, you turn and crawl into your bed, rolling to the side closer to the window and grabbing part of the blankets, giving him some space if he decides to join you. facing away from him to hide your nerves and expression, you announce, "well i'm turning in now, it's up to you if you want to get in or not."

you try your best to play it off nonchalantly, but everything in your being prays and hopes that he does. every second that you wait, the faster your thoughts race, you worry that he only said yes to appease you, that you made him uncomfortable with your question, that you were getting ahead of yourself. maybe this was a bad idea.

the swirling tornado of thoughts in your mind was interrupted by the feeling of the empty space behind you dip with weight. it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves, but you focus your eyes on the raindrops trailing down your window, letting it still your heart, even if just for a little while.

as the two of you lay in silence, backs facing each other with a little river of a space between your bodies, neither dare to move even an inch. your senses are on high alert, taking note of every single movement, every breath, the fibers of your sheets feeling scratchy for the first time, just waiting, longing for something to happen.

the sudden flash of lightning and loud thundering causes a small yelp to slip out of your lips, flinching as the burst of bright light floods your vision and temporarily illuminates the dark room. your back lightly brushes against tobio's and you're quick to apologise, "i-i'm sorry, i was just shocked by that."

"i know," you told him some time ago that storms make you a little anxious, he remembers every little detail about you, committing it to memory, "are you okay?"

turning his head to look at you over his shoulder, his heart clenches at the way you shake your head with embarrassment, almost trying to make yourself smaller and shrinking your frame against him. you want to dig a hole and bury yourself in it, silently glaring and cursing at the sky and the dark clouds that inhabit it, why did this wretched rain have to make things weird?

with a sharp inhale, he bites the bullet and tests the waters, turning around and reaching for your hand. as his fingers brush over your knuckles, your breath catches in your throat at the delicate motion, the callouses and roughness feeling like light tender scratches on your skin, creating a gentle distraction to your weary soul.

it’s odd. you two were always close, but not like this, yet it feels natural. your hands fit together like pieces of a puzzle, yours cradled in the palm of his larger ones. in your vulnerability, you rest your forehead on his clothed chest, trying to ground yourself and slow your breathing, finding comfort in the rhythm of his heart thrumming against his chest.

tobio hopes that you don’t notice the speed of his pulse, and even if you do, he wishes you won’t bring it up for the sake of his sanity. before this, he longed for the day that he could hold you in his arms, but now that the time has come, he can’t help but wish it was under different circumstances, nonetheless counting his lucky stars for this opportunity to be there for you.

with tremoring hands, he pulls you closer and strokes your hair, running his fingers between the soft strands in a light caress, recalling the days when miwa used to do this for him as a young child riddled with fear. your body melts against his in relief, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, sinking into his steady hold and letting the rise and fall of his chest slowly lull you in a calm rest.

this feels... nice.

tobio thinks you look beautiful in this light, the faintest glow from the streetlamps below shining in through the sheer curtains and fanning across the apples of your cheeks. he almost gives in to the temptation of brushing his lips against your forehead but decides against it, settling with admiring your delicate features and letting his eyes trail across the fine details of your face.

in the quiet of night when he thinks you're asleep, he plucks the courage to whisper into the crown of your head, three words he's had on his mind for a while now, allowing himself to drift off into slumber with your soft smile pressed into the crook of his neck.

notes. mac my fellow tobio enjoyer, thank you for requesting our beloved blooberi boy and my favourite tropes (you know the way to my heart) ♡ i look forward to more screaming crying thirst sessions with you over mr tobio, much love to you !! (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[miabebe]

Reverse Trope Series - Accidently Kidnpping A Mafia Boss (Teaser 2)

Kidnapping the Yoon Jeonghan was not on your 2024 bingo but sometimes, shit happens right?

Read part 1 here first!

Pairing - Yoon Jeonghan x afab!reader

Word Count - Teaser 2 is 3.9K (Estimated fic word count - 25K)

Genre - Strangers to something more than that I guess? Crack, angst (just a small splash) and smut. (Loads of it, but in the full fic)

Warnings - mentions of kidnapping and mafia. (But just to be clear, this is not like your usual mafia fics - it’s not dark, there’s no violence and things of that sort)

A/n - This fic was supposed to be out so long ago but I've been really really busy and also this plot underwent like 2039805938 changes so I've also been a bit inefficient T.T Here's another teaser to make up for it before I drop the whole fic - I've tagged the people on the taglist so far, if I've missed you I'm sorry, please remind me and if you want to be newly added, also lmk!

“They aren't picking up.” You sighed, pacing around the room. “Why aren't they picking up??” 

All three boys who were perched on the breakfast bar shrugged, continuing to munch on their chocolate bars.

“You guys are awfully calm considering the mess we’ve landed in.” 

“The mess you landed us in.” Soonyoung, who had been filled about the situation, pointed out, licking his fingers. “If you hadn’t tried to pull that terrible prank on me-” 

“Okay Kwon, I don’t need this right now.” You rolled your eyes as Soonyoung made a mocking face before returning to his snack. Sighing, you dialed the number again, hoping for a response at least this time. 

“Voicemail. Again!” You squeezed your phone, nearly throwing it across the room, half screaming in frustration. The boys hissed, signaling you to shut up as you bit your tongue and turned towards the elephant in the room. 

Well, not a literal elephant, he was barely one sixteenth its size, the figurative elephant - Yoon Jeonghan. 

He still sat, unconscious and beautiful as ever, only his hands were now tied behind the chair, securing him in place. Seokmin insisted it was necessary considering this would be his second time attempting to try and escape. When you had expressed your confusion, Seungkwan pulled out his phone and showed you a picture he had clicked in the city a few days ago - a poster with Jeonghan’s face on it, a text on the bottom. 

Dangerous criminal Yoon Jeonghan escaped from prison on the 8th of August. Please be cautious and if seen, call the number below. A reward of 20,000 dollars is offered for any and all incriminating information. 

The moment all of you finished reading, it was like a switch flipped. 

Soonyoung immediately secured Jeonghan's hands, Seokmin darkened the room, turning off all the lights and Seungkwan shut all the curtains, shoving his phone into your hands. You though, just stood frozen, watching all of them getting to work, unable to comprehend the situation. It was only when Seungkwan shook you physically telling you to call that number that you finally came to your senses, quickly dialing it. 

Since then, it had been over an hour and you had called almost 48 times unsuccessfully, much to your frustration but not so much to the boys. They simply continued to raid your snack drawer, chattering away in hushed whispers while you wanted to pull all your hair out. 

“Why do you look so distressed hon?” Soonyoung looked at you, worried.

“Why?” You raised your eyebrows. “Why?? Can you not see why? Do you not understand how risky it is keeping him here-” You shot the unconscious man a glance, whispering. “What if he wakes up?” 

“Then you knock him out again.” Seungkwan chuckled.

“This is not a joke you guys.” You tried to be heard above all the reenacting and laughing. “I get that the 20k offer looks enticing but should we take a risk this big-” 

“You think this is about the money?” Seokmin looked at you almost offended. “He’s a criminal Y/n, handing him over to the cops is doing what’s right! That’s our duty as responsible citizens-” 

“Well this can’t be the only way to go about it? I’m sure there are other ways-” 

“Like what?” Seungkwan frowned curiously. 

“I don’t know.” You bit your lower lip, turning to Jeonghan, hands shaking nervously. “We could go out there and find a cop-” 

“When was the last time you even saw a cop in this vicinity?” Soonyoung raised an amused eyebrow.

“Fine, then we’ll take him to the nearest police station?” 

“That’s almost twenty five miles from here.” Soonyoung pointed out. “What if on the way he becomes un-unconscious-” 

“Conscious.” 

“-then wouldn’t we be in more danger?” 

Sighing, you buried your face in your hands, shaking your head. “How did we get ourselves stuck in a situation this terrible-” 

“Oh come on, it's not so bad.” Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “It's not like we're committing a crime, in fact we are doing the complete opposite of it - you should be proud of us.” 

“I prefer my sanity over pride please, thank you.” 

Soonyoung clapped his hand. “So let's get you your vanity back-”  

“Sanity.” 

“-the more we try to call that number, the sooner we manage to contact the authorities and before you know it, he'll be gone and all of this will be over.”

Sighing, you handed the phone to him, gesturing that he try now, sick of hearing the voicemail message over and over again. No sooner after he reached for it, a loud ringtone echoed in the room making you nearly jump out of your skin because a. it was really loud and b. it was not coming from this phone…..

All four of you exchanged looks, slowly turning to the source of the sound - the pocket on the inside of Jeonghan’s jacket. 

Noticing how Jeonghan was starting to stir, Seungkwan quickly moved closer to him and pulled out the phone, fingers moving swiftly to mute it. As it continued to vibrate in his hand, the rest of you gathered around, looking at the screen over his shoulder - Assistant 1, annoying, do not pick up. But before any of you had to make the executive decision whether or not to lift the phone, thank god for the timing, the call ended, allowing you all to take a sigh of relief. 

Trying to catch your breath again, just as you almost moved back to your original position, it rang again, somehow even more loudly this time and like an idiot in his hurry, Seungkwan accidentally lifted the call, making you gasp and almost scream. 

“No, don’t-” 

“Boss.” Though it was barely audible, he sounded exasperated. “Please tell me you’re not with a girl.” 

As Seungkwan put the call on speaker, the boys looked at you, signaling you to talk. Looking lost, you stuttered. “I uh…yes, he’s with me.” 

“Of course he is.” His voice boomed in the room. “I need to talk to him.” 

You hesitated, looking at Jeonghan still sitting slumped. “I’m afraid he can’t come to the phone right now.” 

“And why not?” 

“Cause he’s tied up?” You shook your head fast, when your friends looked at you wide eyed - now was not the time for truths??? “I mean he’s tied up with some work-” 

“Oh please, there’s no need to cover up.” The man sounded amused. “I always had a feeling that this was one of his kinks.” 

You looked at the screen mortified. Did he just say kinks? “I’m sorry, what?” 

“No, I’m sorry you’re stuck with that sadist of a man. If you’re free after you’re done with him, I assure you, I could show you a much better time.” 

Gasping inaudibly, you felt the heat in your cheeks rising. “I’m not a…. no, god no. He’s tied up as in, unconscious and tied up. Kidnapped, unconscious and tied up.” 

The boys’ jaws dropped in disbelief. What the hell were you blabbering? 

“Did you just say you kidnapped him?” 

Hands shivering, you tried to shove the phone into someone else's hands, only for all of them to quite literally run away. 

“Woman, I’m asking you something. Did you just say you kidnapped Jeonghan? The Yoon Jeonghan?” He paused, as you moved, standing in front of the man in question, watching him carefully. “Do you even know who he is?” 

“I….yes.” You sighed, sweat rolling down your forehead. “Yes I know who he is and look, it's a long story, I can’t explain right now and I’m sorry you had to find out this way but I’m calling the cops and handing him over tonight.”

“You called me to tell me that you were handing him to the cops?” 

“Actually you called-”  

“And for what? That measly twenty thousand?” He scoffed. “I know what you’re doing here - I’ll give you thirty in exchange for him.” 

And suddenly, all the boys were around the phone again. 

“No thank you.” You shook your head. “This isn’t about the money, it’s about doing the right thing and that is to hand him over-” 

“Wow, you’re really playing that card?” He sighed. “Fine, I’ll give you fifty.” 

At this point, Seungkwan lunged for his phone, narrowly missing it as you swiftly moved your hand away, surprised. 

“Seventy five?” 

Seokmin tried to reach for it too, but you were too quick for him too, moving away, looking at them incredulously. What the hell were they doing? 

“Final offer, a hundred thousand or I have other ways-” 

“Done.” Soonyoung, the nimblest of them all, quickly grabbed the phone from your hands talking into it. “Hundred thousand and he’s yours.” 

“Kwon-” 

Seokmin covered your mouth, holding you back. “We want it in cash.” 

“That might be an issue-” The man on the phone let out a tired breath. “-things are tight now, cash will be hard.” 

“It’s cash or he goes to the cops.” Seokmin continued, still holding you back with his strong arms, rendering your struggles pointless.

The line went quiet on the other side. The boys look at each other, worried. 

“Fine.” He finally agreed as they sighed in relief. “But I’ll need about ten days to arrange for it.” 

“We are in no hurry.” Seungkwan added. “Whenever you send the cash, we’ll send him.” 

“And till then?” 

“Till then, he’ll be here, with us.” Soonyoung confirmed, earning a protest from you that drowned out. 

“I hope you remember that the cops are actively looking for him-” 

“We do. Which is why you need to make sure the money reaches us by the tenth day.” Seungkwan pointed out. “Otherwise you know where he’s going.” 

“No don’t….” The man sighed. “There’s no need to make such hasty decisions, you’ll get your money.” 

“Good, keep in touch on this number and let us know when you have the cash ready and….that's all for now, okay bye.” 

Seungkwan spoke quickly before he cut the call and all the boys looked at each other amazed. When Seokmin finally released you, he shrieked, given you landed a few harmless punches on him, hard and fast.

“Are you insane???” You looked around. “Are all of you insane?” 

“Hon,” Soonyoung held you by the shoulders, shaking them. “It’s a hundred thousand dollars-” 

“I thought it was not about the money.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you wanted to be a responsible citizen-” 

“Oh please it’s always about the money.” Seokmin walked over and fell back onto the couch. “A hundred thousand dollars, wow, I’ve never even heard of so much money in my life.”

“Can’t believe I’m going to be a millionaire.” Soonyoung joined him on, earning an eye roll from you. 

“How exactly?” You crossed your arms. “It’s twenty five thousand dollars a person.” 

“So you are agreeing to be a part of it!” Seungkwan clapped happily, ignoring your words of protest. “We’re all going to be so rich.” 

“Twenty five thousand dollars isn’t exactly a fortune-” 

“It might not be for you, but not all of us have dropped out of college and are running our own freelance business from the comfort of our grandmother’s apartment.” Seokmin pointed out. “We could really use the money.” 

“That’s fair but-” 

“No ‘buts’ now.” Seungkwan raised his hand to stop you. “Come on Y/n, do this for us? All we ask is for ten days. Don’t you remember when you moved to this locality, we were the only ones there for you? For 2 whole years we’ve been with you through thick and thin-” 

Thud.

Seungkwan stuttered to a stop, turning around at the sound. Seokmin and Soonyoung shifted around too, trying to see what happened, heartbeat rapidly rising with the realisation that Jeonghan was stirring awake..... and more importantly, the knot that “believe me I'm an expert” Soonyoung had tied around his hands had come undone, the rope falling to the floor. 

Wincing, Jeonghan opened his eyes slowly as all of you froze, watching the infamous mafia boss raise his head, blinking in the darkness. 

You panicked, noticing that your one and only weapon here, your trusty torchlight, was far from you and right by his foot. Wondering if it was dark enough, considering the room was only lit by the soft and minimal glow of the streetlights pouring in, you slowly inched towards Jeonghan who seemed like he still hadn't full come around. Just as you reached him, bending to pick up the torch, Seungkwan, who was inching back to press himself against the wall and somehow blend into it, pressed against the switches, the lights instantly turning on, illuminating the whole room. 

Jeonghan slowly looked up, eyes meeting yours, lips parting softly. 

You opened your mouth to scream or say something, you can’t remember what exactly, instead resorting to just staring at the way his hair beautifully framed his face, long eyelashes touching the curve of his cheeks as he blinked. As you continued to remain frozen, his eyes ran over the features of your face, before his lips curled into a small smile.

“I love you.” 

You snapped out of your trance in a second, jaw dropping. 

“God I really love you.” He repeated, as you grabbed the torch and hurriedly moved back. Seokmin, clearly your most sensible friend, quickly got up, putting himself between you and Jeonghan.

“What did he say?” Seokmin looked at you over his shoulder, mumbling. 

“You’re….” Seungkwan took a small, careful step. “You’re not mad?” 

“My head does hurt like a bitch.” Jeonghan cocked his head at you who was half hiding behind your biggest friend. “But I would have been more mad if I was in jail compared to waking up in….” He looked around again. “.....whatever this is.” 

“My house.” You muttered, gripping the torch as Soonyoung silently walked behind Jeonghan and kicked the rope under the sofa before he joined you, looking casual as ever.

“Yes, jail would be bad.” He agreed. “But here, you’re totally safe, no stress at all.” 

“And why exactly?” Jeonghan frowned, eyes flickering over all of you. “Obviously you know who I am. Why aren’t you handing me to the cops?” 

“That's um…because….” Seungkwan mumbled, putting his arm around your shoulder, with a firm nod. “Because of her uncle.” 

You blinked at him. 

You had no uncle. 

“M-mine?” 

“Yes, her uncle was….unfairly arrested by the cops last year. T-they sort of put him away for good so uh….helping you is, in a way.... our revenge against this foul legal system.” 

Jeonghan didn’t look even a little convinced.

Maybe just a little when he looked at you with an eyebrow raised in question and you hesitatingly nodded. 

“Okay, y’all are clearly a weird bunch but I'm not going to question it since whatever this is is kinda helping me out.” He got up, wincing as he held his head. “and so now I'll get going-” 

“No!” All three boys screamed, taking both Jeonghan and you aback, ears almost ringing. 

“We mean…” Seungkwan started at a much softer tone. “You can’t go out right now, it’s not safe for you.” 

“I am aware,” Jeonghan patted his pockets as though he was searching for something. “I need to call my men and find them in the city. Once they arrange a way for me to permanently leave the country, I'll finally be safe-” 

“You are safe here too.” Soonyoung quipped. “In fact, there’s no better place than this neighbourhood to be safe - it’s quiet, almost thirty miles from the city, filled with senior citizens who are absolutely cut off from the world - I'm sure they don’t even know who you are, she herself didn't.” He pointed at you.

“Most importantly,” Seokmin added. “Because this place is so dull, cops don’t even come here, hell, the closest police station is over twenty five miles away.” 

“Huh” Jeonghan looked thoughtful, continuing to slide his hands into all his pockets one by one, mumbling. “Where's my phone-” 

“It probably fell when you were running around-.” Seungkwan gripped the bulge in his back pocket where Jeonghan’s phone was tucked away. “-now that you can't contact your…gang? it'll be dangerous for you to go unguided.”

“Exactly.” Soonyoung stepped up. “Say you give it some time? Maybe 10 ten days or so, just so the things in the city to cool off a little and then you can go, find your people and leave the country?” 

Jeonghan stared at the floor as though he was mulling over it, each passing second feeling like almost an hour.

Finally he looked up, slowly nodding, much to everyone's relief. “I guess I could?” He held the bump on his head again, wincing in pain. “First I'm gonna need a shower and a meal.” He looked at you, lips curling into a small smile. “Is knocking people out your only talent or can you whip up a ramyeon too?”

Tearing your eyes away from his intense gaze you mumbled that you could, earning a two finger salute from him before he disappeared behind the door of the bathroom. 

As all of four of you collectively let out a sigh of relief, Seungkwan shoved Jeonghan’s phone into your hands. 

“Keep this safe and keep him safe.” He looked around at everyone. “We need to continue making him feel as though living here for 10 days is good for him, not us.”

“Agreed.” Seokmin hummed. “He cannot, at any cost, know he’s being held for ransom. God knows what he might do then.” 

“I still can’t believe it though.” Soonyoung let out a low whistle, looking around almost proud. “I can’t believe we accidentally kidnapped a mafia boss.” 

“Smells fucking good.” 

You bit back a gasp hearing Jeonghan’s voice from behind you, right at the shell of your ear as you stood by the stove, stirring his meal. Gulping you turned, regretting it immediately when you found yourself inches away from him yet again but this time, he was standing in just his towel, blonde wet hair falling into his eyes, rivets of water running down his smooth abdomen. As your eyes found their way back up again, Jeonghan smirked at you. 

“Strange.” He cocked his head at you. “On one hand you seem so meek and quiet, yet no one has ever really looked at me the way you do.” 

Please don’t say things like that. 

Feeling unnaturally hot, perhaps because you were sandwiched between a boiling pot of noodles and a man this attractive, you turned away, turning off the gas, wiping the sweat running down your neck. 

Jeonghan chuckled. “I need something to wear. You got anything to spare?” 

You nodded, setting the pot down, before moving away from him (thank god) and walking into your office room. Jeonghan followed at a distance, shaking off the water in his hair, looking around confused as he stepped in. 

“Aren’t you a bit too old to play dress up?” He pointed at the mannequin in the corner donning a pretty maroon half finished dress. 

“That’s…. My work.” You confessed, going through a stack of clothes in the drawers on the far end. 

“You made that?” 

You nodded softly. “Yeah I’m a..... freelance fashion designer.” 

“For who, the dead?” He frowned. “Who even wears clothes like these anymore?” 

Trying not to get too offended, you pulled out the pair of pajamas you were looking for and turned to him. “It’s for the main lead of the new Macbeth play. I, uh, custom make clothes for theater productions and stage plays.” 

“Ah.” He nodded looking around at the large table filled with pencil and measuring tapes and scissors and big shelves stacked with materials of all knds, two sewing machines lined up against the wall. “Interesting.” 

You're not really sure what he found so fascinating but you cleared your throat, trying to change the topic. 

“I only have this that might fit you.” Walking over, you handed him a neatly folded purple checkered pajama set. “I made it for my…. for someone a few years back but he didn’t like the colour so it's brand new.” 

“I love purple.” Jeonghan grinned, taking it from you, immediately slipping on the shirt. “Those boys are stupid to not like this.”

"It wasn't for them." You scoffed. "I've actually never made them clothes. My style is a little too old fashioned for them?” 

“You continue to surprise me.” He looked at you thoughtfully. “Old fashioned in dressing but open minded enough to live with three men.”

You blinked stupidly. “I don't live with three men.”

“Oh they don’t live here?” Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “You four aren't a thing?” 

 “Four? As in all four of us??.….” You looked at him wide eyed and scandalized. “Of course not! How could you even think that, w-what does that even mean-” 

“Okay relax princess.” Jeonghan took a step back, raising his hands. “Even if you were, it’s cool. I don’t judge.” 

Definitely not relaxing, you looked everywhere but at him, heat continuing to rise uncomfortably in your body. 

Jeonghan looked at you amused, biting his lip. “But I will judge if you continue to stand here and watch me wear my pants.” 

Shaking your head and apologising, you practically ran out, heart racing in your chest as you leaned against the kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge. The kind of things he said, the way he looked at you….Please please please stop it. 

Trying your best to push him out of your mind, you got back to the stove, grabbing the pot and placing it on the table. You stared at it for a bit before sighing and pulling out a few of your mom’s sides from the fridge, adding it to his meal. As you poured out a glass of juice, Jeonghan walked up, rubbing his hands, pulling the chair and sitting down. 

“You got sides and all? Sweet.” 

He grabbed the pair of chopsticks and took a large bite, humming in relief. You knew it was burning hot, but he was probably way too hungry to care because the speed made it look like he was inhaling it. 

“Sit.” He looked up mid bite. “I don’t like eating alone.” 

Although you didn't wish to be in his presence for long, you sat down, unable to say no. The entire time, Jeonghan ate quietly, tasting everything, drinking the juice in between, loudly smacking his lips after every bite. After devouring it all in less than five minutes, he raised the bowl to his mouth, downing all the soup, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“That was so delicious princess, I almost wanna stay here all my life.” He got up, stretching as he did. “But unfortunately 10 days is all we have.” 

Silently, you half nodded, gathering all the dishes he had left on the table, taking them to the sink. Jeonghan watched you, please stop looking at me, and when you returned to wipe the table, he leaned in, for the third time tonight, putting his face incredibly close to yours.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, but I think I’ll have you all figured out in ten days.” As you tried to move further back, unable to breathe in the proximity, he moved closer, smirking. “Goodnight princess.” 

And with that he walked off, turning into your bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

You simply stared, rapidly blinking, heart refusing to calm down, chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

And this was just day zero of ten. 

[good-chimes]

THE RULES OF BUTTERCUP CAMP

Rule 1: No friendly fire in the camp.

Rule 1a: NO GRAVEL, NO SAND, NO FALLING BLOCKS

Rule 1b: SCAR THIS MEANS YOU

--- I dont know What you’re talking about

--- You know exactly what I’m talking about!

Rule 1c: Grian is not allowed to make Scar strip down to his underwear on the Perimeter edge to ‘find all the sand’; this makes us look bad in front of Doc.

--- He had it in his SHOE

--- counter-rule!! Actually this makes us look GReat in front of doc. my abs intimidate him.

--- There’s no such thing as a ‘counter rule’ and your abs don’t intimidate anyone

--- mumbo agrees with me!!

--- I. Um. I just think Scar’s abs could be good PR. I’d be impressed if I were Doc.

Rule 2: All Buttercups must remember at all times that Doc is the enemy and we are here to TAKE HIM DOWN.

Rule 3: Goateater is not allowed to eat Mumbo’s pillow.

Rule 3a: we should leave GOateater alone because she’s doing her Best

--- Scar, she’s doing her best to eat my pillow!

--- this is proving resorcefullness and initive like a good Buttercup!

Rule 4: Mumbo’s cooking tastes like a camping mat and he’s not allowed on the cooking rota

Rule 5: grian cant cook us eggs for more than 2 meals in one day

Rule 6: I have to say I agree with Rule 5.

--- Mumbo needs to LEARN HOW RULES WORK

--- and also stop being RUDE about my COOKING

Rule 7: Goateater is not allowed in Mumbo’s bed under any circumstances.

--- mumbo is biased against Goateater!!

--- Then make her sleep in your bed, Scar!

Rule 8: Grian is allowed to push Scar into the Perimeter if he does the sand thing one more time

Rule 9: Grian is allowed to push Scar into the Perimeter if he refuses to put a shirt back on and is being really obnoxious about it

Rule 10: Grian is allowed to push Scar into the Perimeter if he keeps snoring at night

--- Mate, we’re getting some expansion of powers here that I’m not entirely comfortable with.

--- yknow its not tJHAT Bad

--- Okay, so, Scar, listen, just because you’ve never minded doesn’t mean Grian should be able to do what he likes. This is setting a precedent. We need to talk about this.

Rule 11: Grian is allowed to push anyone into the Perimeter for any reason necessary

--- I told you! I TOLD you!

--- Cmon Mumbo a man’s gotta have hobbies

--- Not threats-of-immediate-violence-to-his-two-closest-friends hobbies!

--- WAnt some sand?

--- I CAN LITERALLY SEE WHAT YOU TWO WRITE HERE. SCAR I AM COMING FOR YOU.

--- Good LUck :)

Rule 12: Grian is not allowed to keep stealing Mumbo’s HotGuy poster for his own tent then denying it.

Rule 12a: Grian is encouraged to get his own poster or pay Mumbo 16 diamonds.

Rule 13: Buttercups are reminded to focus their efforts on DOC and how everything is DOC’S FAULT, not SPYING ON THEIR FRIENDS about POSTERS.

Rule 14: Goateater is not allowed in Mumbo’s entire tent.

Rule 15: Goateater is allowed whrever she likes, including in MUmbos tent.

Rule 16: Scar is not allowed to write rules that contradict previous rules.

Rule 17: Mumbo is not allowed to do that either!!

Rule 17a: If Mumbo and Scar don’t stop fighting over the rules board and GET US SOME DRINKING WATER LIKE THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO then Grian gets to throw them both in the Perimeter

--- I thought everything was Doc’s fault.

--- Sometimes it’s your fault, Mumbo!

Rule 18: Look, can we have some sort of punishment here that isn’t ‘Grian pushes people in the perimeter?’ Only he’s not pushing himself in the perimeter, and last night he blew up a firework experiment in the campfire and took half my moustache off.

Rule 18a: That was obviously Doc’s fault.

--- I don’t think it’s Doc’s fault if you did it yourself! In fact, you’re the reason we’re here in the first place. There’s sand in my sleeping bag and I’ve lost half my moustache and Goateater keeps eating my shoes!

--- also I gotta pointout G you never paid me for those fireworks

--- Listen, Buttercups, the rules are very clear about who’s to blame. It’s Doc’s fault.

--- That’s pretty rich coming from you, Grian!

--- also goateater is perfect and hasn’t done anything wrong

--- Shut up, Scar, this is Grian’s fault. I’m making a new rule.

Rule 19: I think we should blame Grian for everything

Rule 20: I secnd this rule

Rule 21: Oh, yeah? Well, I think we should blame SCAR for getting me BAD FIREWORKS

Rule 21a: those were top quality scarland fireworks, Mister!

Rule 22: It was Scar who technically broke the tunnel bore so he’s the reason we’re here

Rule 23: I mean, I guess—Scar, mate, you did do that.

Rule 24: I think we should blame Scar for everything

Rule 25: now wait A MINute

Rule 26: Yes, honestly, it’s mainly Scar’s fault.

Rule 27: Its not!

Rule 28: It’s either you or Grian. I think either way we can all agree I’m the innocent victim here.

Rule 29: What – okay, fine, new plan! I think we should blame MUMBO for everything!

Rule 30: yeah!

NEW RULE: MUMBO IS BANISHED FROM THE BUTTERCUP CAMP

NEW RULE: OH I AM, AM I? WELL THEN, GRIAN IS BANISHED FROM THE BUTTERCUP CAMP!

NEW RULE: OKAY! I GUESS THIS IS MY CAMP NOW! IM MOVING JELLIE INTO YOUR TENTS AND SERVS YOU BOTH RIGHT!

Rule 34: Guys?

Rule 35: …guys?

…

…

…

board suspended :(

…

…

…

Rule 36: fine I’m back

Rule 37: strewing my bed with cherry blossom wasn’t actually necessary

Rule 38: Aw, Scar, you shouldn’t have.

--- i missed you guys

--- I missed you guys too!

--- It’s been TWENTY MINUTES

--- admit it G you missed us

--- Fine I did

--- But I think I have time for a second shot

--- GRIAN

--- joking <3

Rule 39: All previous rules are suspended.

Rule 1: It’s Doc’s fault.

Rule 2: Grian is still allowed to push people into the perimeter.

--- mumbo, wheres Goateater?

--- Special mission, mate, don’t worry about it.

WHY HAS SOMETHING **EATEN** ALL MY ***CROCS***!

YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, BUTTERCUPS!!

– G.O.A.T.

p.s. Also kindly return my hotguy poster, Grian, I know that this was you

[elhopperentourage]

The “Unstraightening” of Mike Wheeler Throughout Stranger Things

Mike would never have even shown interest in girls if El hasn’t shown up. Think about it. Throughout the series we see all the canonically straight men talk about women or act a certain way about/with women.

Lucas and Dustin are both immediately drawn to Max. Steve goes through two female love interests and is rejected by even more girls. Billy goes on dates and has posters of girls in his room. The show makes it clear when a character is interested in women.

But with Mike, we don’t really see any of this. Sure, he has a female love interest, but shes always just been there to Mike.

I think it has something to do with when Lucas says “You’re just excited there’s a girl who’s not totally grossed out by you!” (or something along those lines) Mike hears this and realizes this is supposed to be an opportunity for him. He’s supposed to be interested in El romantically. Soon after that, we see Mike ask El to the snowball, but the way he asks her is obviously… kinda weird. There is literally a comparison made to El being his sister. And then they kiss… after that strange relation… mind you they’re both twelve and El doesn’t even know what it means to like something/someone yet. (as shown by her encounters with Max in s3)

My main point is, the show makes no effort to show that Mike feels attracted to girls. Other than having him date El, which is obviously an unhealthy relationship that has been pulled apart many times before.

Just think about it. The show could have shown Mike being interested in Max, like his straight friends are, but instead he’s compared to Will. They both couldn’t care less about Max, which is an interesting similarity considering Will is canonically gay. The show could have Mike chase after El, like we see with Steve and Nancy, but instead he mopes around and kind of forgets about her (because of will ‘,:| strange.) The show could have put posters of girls up in Mikes room, like with Billy, but instead Mike has… a buff dragon? and a… one way sign pointing to his closet..?

There’s just no effort -outside of his constantly failing relationship- to show that Mike is straight.

Sorry if this is a bit ramble or has already been said. It just came to my mind randomly and i didn’t want to forget about it!!

[writingstoraes]

the other side 🥡

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!horner!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this was actually a request but it somehow got lost in my inbox so im so sorry to whoever requested this 😭 i hope you still see this though and i hope u like it! lmk what u guys think hehehe

about: fans adore your support for ferrari, given your dad is literally their rival's team principal.

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 1,201,294 others

ynhorner had the best view at monaco 🏎️

(ps. i hope my dad isn't using his instagram right now)

christianhorner I have no words....

ynhorner see u at home 😘

redgirlz LMAOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY

maxverstappen ??? Hello

ynhorner hi, max :)

daylightcharles if years ago you told me christian horner's own daughter would be openly supporting ferrari i would have laughed in your face

hamilecs not charles liking this ���

sainzlines QUEEN DO U PLAN ON WATCHING SOMEDAY AT FERRARI'S GARAGE 🎤🎤

ynhorner i would if i'd still be my dad's daughter afterwards

ynhorner

liked by christianhorner, landonorris, pierregasly, and 1,028,248 others

ynhorner i may scream "forza ferrari sempre" during race weekends, but i am my dad's daughter still 🫡

therealgerihalliwell There we go, Dad was waiting for you to wear that 😊

ilpredestinato she is me and i am her (i too, would support ferrari to hell and back)

lovesgasly my ferrari queen ❤️

britcedesbros LOVE THE JACKET drop the link pls 🙏

ynhorner dad brought it home after seeing me check out another ferrari cap 😆

ynhorner recently added to her instagram story!

ynhorner

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, therealgerihalliwell, and 1,019,294 others

ynhorner clearing my gallery so enjoy this race week’s dump! life's good when i'm not torn between two teams; i can bust my lungs out to "super max" and forza ferrari my way every sunday ❤️

queensland mother pls tell me that man is just an uber driver

charlierari That's literally Charles 😭 loverslane reaching we can't even see the face???

paddockgirlie MAM IS THAT CHARLES PLS SPEAK INTO THE MIC

ynhorner i think my lawyer says i'd rather not say anything 😅

maxverstappen Glad to know "Super Max" is on your playlist

ynhorner are you kidding? i play that when i drive so i can get to where i'm going faster christianhorner Your karting races are not an excuse for you to overtake whenever you want, Y/N ynhorner it's okay i'm driving a ferrari anyway :D

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and 1,503,994 others

ynhorner okay maybe there's another reason why i love ferrari, but it's really not my fault they signed someone so breathtaking and loveable to be their driver 🤷‍♀️

merchamilton someone check up on christian quick

sainzzzzham Y/N IS UR DAD OKAY 😭

ynhorner oh don't worry about him, i'm sure he'll be fine!

charles_leclerc Saw the sign today, apparently that's why you sent me out to buy red poster board?

ynhorner yes, gotta stick to my ferrari girl agenda

paddocklovez MY NEW PARENTS ❤️

maxverstappen Finally, growing tired of hiding Charles when he visits the garage 😐

christianhorner So you were in on this? maxverstappen For legal reasons, I will be blocking you.

------------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @cxcewg, @sassyheroneckgiant (lmk if anyone else wants to be part of my taglist!)

notes: tysm for reading <3

[miwiheroes]

Light = Truth

So this whole Byler post is literally just based off something that my friend who has a studies film at school said to me about lighting. Me and my friends do a presentation night like every few months and obviously my hyperfixation atm is byler so I did '10 reasons why I think byler could be canon'. My friends were convinced by the end btw, which is fun (and they kept pointing out yellow and blue things afterwards i loved life), but they also contributed so many things that I have never even considered or seen on byler tumblr before.

For example, my friend who studies film (btw we aren't just kids who like movies or smth, we are adults studying film lmao), stopped me during my presentation because I wasn't talking about lighting choices that were super clear.

I guess you can take what they said with a grain of salt because they aren't like, a professional ig, but they said that so many times during film, light is symbolic to mean truth. And it's like... oh my god. Suddenly, after they said that, everything made sense. Of course, light means truth in all these scenes! So I just want to point out two Byler/ Mike is gay moments that I think are related to this:

Light in the Closet tm

Hello??? Why is there a light in the closet here, not just to draw ur attention towards it, but also to symbolise something. Who tf has a light in their closet unless its massive, and why would it even be on in this scene?

The truth is, you're in the closet, Michael. We've all seen these images before and how he has his eyes open, yada yada, but the light literally means truth here, and its framed on his head, like he's thinking of the truth.

In literally the first scene in season 4 with Mike, as we know, we see a closet. That's almost comical. Not only that, but the light is on. Meaning, the truth is, Mike's still in the closet, again it's framed near his head. (Pair this with the one way sign, it's very obvious what they're trying to say here)

Let's talk about this image right here:

First of all, the light is literally shining out of the closet, not just in a blurry fashion, but it's literally a ray of light pointing at Mike who's standing in front of it. This being in the very first scene with Mike in it sets up the sort of arc he has in season 4, the fact that the truth is he's in the closet, but the one way sign shows he's still in it.

I showed this image to my friends during the presentation and the one I mentioned earlier also said that the set designers put the lamp where it is for a reason as well. The lamp in Mike's room is, of course, lighting up Will's drawings on his notice board as well as the buff guy posters. So, his true feelings are that... he likes men. Yah

2. Lights on Will

In the Van scene, everyone knows about how they spent a reallyyyy long time getting the lighting just correct, and if it was meant to mean truth, it all makes sense. (Also to get that heart in Will's eye lmao)

In this shot, (not particularly this frame but yknow) Will is literally bathed in sunlight, and it could just mean that Mike's seeing him in this light because he's pretty to him or something, or it could mean that Will's literally telling the truth/ Will is Mike's truth. Playing D&D and Nintendo for the rest of their lives is really what he wants, as established in season 3.

(my fave byler scene yes pls) When I showed this photo to my friends in my presentation, my film studies friend literally laughed. Yes, it is very very clear what they are trying to tell viewers here. The light is purposefully shining perfectly on Will only. Mike is completely cut off from the light and is in the dark. Some think that it's because he's 'in the dark about Will's feelings' (and yeah he is) but I think it's because by the end of season 4, Will has kind of admitted the truth to himself. He loves Mike, but Mike hasn't admitted his truth, that he loves Will.

However, we get clear foreshadowing for the next season in this scene because:

Mike reaches into the light, for the truth. It also foreshadows him supporting Will more in season 5 perhaps, but the fact that the next shot is this:

kind of just makes it super duper obvious that he's going to (very cheesy but) 'find his truth' or true feelings with Will/ in the next season.

Okay thanks for listening to me ramble about how light = truth, i would love to hear any other moments that could also mean the same thing :) Anyways, byler endgame.

[wxshing-aep]

The Prom Committee (pt 1)

Ethan Morales x fem!reader

based on this request:

"how about one where y/n runs an after school club so Ethan keeps getting detention on purpose to see her because he thinks “clubs are for dorks” to quote Paxton and so his reputation as the bad boy isn’t ruined"

Warnings: swearing, banter, the word boobs

AN: decided to make it a 2 parter cause it was getting long while I was writing it and wanted to give Ethan more depth of character than the actually show so part 2 coming tmrw probs!

When his assignment was handed back by Señora Diaz upside down, Ethan wasn't surprised by the big F glaring back at him in red ink when he turned the page over.

“Stupid bitch” he muttered under his breath.

“In Español, Ethan” Señora Diaz paused on her way back to the blackboard, unsure of what he said but certain that it wasn't in Spanish.

“Sorry" he retorted and she continued her route back to the front of the classroom.

"perra estúpida”

“ethan!”

That’s how Ethan ended up in detention for the umpteenth time in his academic career, tapping his pen on the desk in the nearly empty classroom with Mr. Shapiro's happy go-lucky self staring back at him.

"Well, happy to have you here Ethan!" Mr. Shapiro greets picking up a clipboard from his desk. "Not happy to be here" Ethan deadpanned. "Sorry to hear that. Not sure how you managed to get detention during the first week of school, but hey I think that might be a new Sherman Oaks record! Congrats buddy!" Mr. Shapiro cheers before realizing the younger boy is not the slightest bit amused. "Alright, tough crowd."

"Moving right along then," Mr. Shapiro clicks a pen in his hand "time to take roll!" which causes Ethan to look around the empty classroom.

"...I'm literally the only one here"

"I know, I just love checking things off lists," Mr. Shapiro clears his throats " so do I have a Morales comma Ethan?"

"seriously dude?"

"Second call for Ethan Morales"

"you're gonna keep going til I say here, aren't you?"

"You betcha!"

"Here."

"Awesome!" Mr. Shapiro marks a giant check by the one name on his attendance sheet. "god I love doing that- Alright so unfortunately I've gotta skidaddle to help out with the faculty potluck but lucky for you sir we're implementing more of a reformative detention style this year!"

"What the hell does that mean" Ethan asked.

"It means, that instead of sitting here for the next few hours, you my friend, get to offer your help to one of the after school clubs or committees that are a bit low on helping hands" Shapiro responds with finger guns. "so guess who's today's newest member of the prom committee!"

"yea, no. I'm not joining some stupid after school club. clubs are for dorks, losers, and ugly people" Ethan responds grabbing his backpack out of the chair next to him to get up and leave.

"well actually it's a committee"

"even worse"

"Alrighty well I can see what the other options-" is all Mr Shapiro gets out before he is interrupted by your voice from the doorway.

"Oh- hey! Mr. Shapiro, did you find anyone to help with the prom posters? Eric said he'd help me out but then canceled cause he said he had to train with the assistant swim coach to quote make Michael Phelps my bitch end quote. Whatever that means, so I'm kinda flying solo here" You say, drawing Ethan's attention towards you as well.

hot damn. okay maybe after school activities are not only for ugly people. He thinks you might be the prettiest girl he's ever seen and definitely takes a mental note of your outfit that's hugging you in all the right places. He quickly realizes that he doesn't know your name and has no idea how he's never been informed of your existence prior to this moment. He's snapped back to reality by Mr. Shapiro responding to your question. "Ah- I'm sorry but Ethan is-"

"super excited to help decorate for prom" Ethan finds himself blurting out before Mr. Shapiro could finish his sentence.

"Oh- well that's great! Uh Ethan just report back by 6 so I can log your hours! I'm gonna get going, you kids have fun decorating. Go crickets!" Mr. Shapiro says, making his exit as you watch him almost skip down the hall.

"Sup, I'm Ethan" Your attention is brought back to the brown eyed curly haired boy who's suddenly standing in front of you (how the hell did he cross the room that fast, you wonder) with an outstretched hand. He never really shakes hands, he just wanted an excuse to touch you. He's cute, you note mentally. You accept the offer and shake his hand. "and you are?" he continues.

"I'm-" you pause noticing those not so innocent brown eyes are directed elsewhere, "acutely aware of the fact that you're staring at my boobs".

Ethan thinks his brain might've just short circuited cause he was definitely just caught red handed. He'd recently grown a lot more confident with girls since his summer growth spurt and subsequent glow up had dramatically increased the number of girls interested in him, but there was something about you and how you so deliberately called him out that had definitely thrown him off his game.

"Sorry- I uh- I was actually looking at your shirt. They're- It's nice" he wants to die he thinks.

You chuckle at his sudden change in demeanor. "Hmm. Yea, I know they are" you respond, turning on a heel and heading toward the auditorium.

"You comin or what?"

-

For one person, you had made pretty okay progress in a week. The current task at hand was making posters to get people excited for the theme reveal. The ground was littered with several half finished or barely started posters.

"Can you draw?" You asked Ethan.

"I'm not much of an artist"

"Really? the graffiti on the side of the school says otherwise. Your handwriting definitely sucks though so I'll do that, but the art's good and if you can do it with a spray can, you can definitely do it with some paint and markers" your unsolicited review of his graffiti made him crack a smile. His latest act of defiance had been a giant snake comically eating a cricket accompanied with the words "get fucked" on the side of the school building.

"You can't prove that was me" he challenges.

"Maybe not, but Mr. Shapiro had mentioned that I might have a detention helper today thanks to Señora Diaz and I happened to notice the words 'stupid bitch' spray painted on her car containing the same weird ass t's as the graffiti on the side of the school and here you are, Ethan."

"Damn, you're good" he pauses realizing he can't throw your name back at you because he still doesn't know it.

"Y/n" you say quietly.

"Huh?"

"My name's y/n"

Pretty name for a pretty girl, he thought.

"Alright y/n. I'll draw as long as I don't have to to touch any glitter. that shit's impossible to get off"

"deal"

"and I don't write my t's weird"

"you write your t's like a crazy person"

-

Time was pretty much flying by. Together you'd gotten nearly twenty posters done and were slowly finding out more information about each other. You were informed about some of Ethan's tattoos and how he'd actually drawn the designs for all of them himself. Not an artist, my ass, you thought. Ethan learned that he hadn't met you before because you'd previously been homeschooled and had all but begged your parents to be able to go to school with other kids for your senior year until they finally cracked and agreed to enroll you at Sherman Oaks.

"Ah I see, you're a total secret weirdo. That explains your freaky detective skills" he teases.

"I am not a secret weirdo. I just like criminal minds and puzzles"

"You were homeschooled. All homeschooled kids are a little weird"

"That's an unfair stereotype"

"Whatever you say, y/n"

"If anything you're the secret weirdo. or at least an undercover art nerd"

"I'm not an undercover art nerd"

"Yea you are. Something tells me this whole" you gestured largely to him sitting a couple feet away from you, "tortured angsty hot skater boy thing you've got going on is a pretty recent development" you comment absent-mindedly. You looked back up from your poster when he didn't respond to see him sitting there, arms crossed with a smug grin on his face.

"What?" you prodded.

"You totally just called me hot"

You're now very aware that he's a bit closer to you than he was before.

"mm don't think so"

"oh you definitely did"

"did not"

"did too"

"did not" that one came out much less confidently considering his hand had made its way to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. damn, he's good.

"whatever you say, y/n" he almost whispers. have his eyes been that sparkly this whole time? He's leaning in and you're definitely not backing away. You're maybe a centimeter away from his lips until the alarm blaring from your phone, which seemed like much better idea hours ago, sent you flying back from him and scared the shit out of both you.

"shit- I- god that scared me, I uh set an alarm for 6 so you'd remember to check in with Mr. Shapiro cause, ya know, I thought we'd both probably be busy. Um- busy making posters, i mean. Obviously I mean making posters cause we definitely wouldn't be busy doing anything else so-" you ramble.

The smug little smirk has made its way back onto Ethan's face as he is quite enjoying this role reversal from your first interaction of the day.

"shut up" you say to him.

"I didn't even say anything" he responded, hands in the air in surrender.

"I've gotta head home, but thanks for helping out even though you basically had to be here. If you ever find yourself in detention again this semester, feel free to help out. Hopefully the committee is more than just me by then" you say, starting to gather your belongings. Ethan secretly hopes it isn't, he likes the idea of hanging out with just you.

"I probably will find myself in detention again. It's kinda part of this whole tortured angsty hot skater boy thing I've got going on" he says throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"not what I said" you still attempt to deny.

"sure it wasn't"

"bye ethan"

"bye y/n"

Yea, he'll definitely be finding himself in detention again.

-

Read Part 2 here

[desideriumwriter]

could you write a hurt/comfort where in the battle of hogwarts reader sees fred get hit by an explosion and goes on a rampage until a weak and limping fred stops them from casting the killing curse bc even tho he’s seriously injured he’s worried about them?

(also i absolutely love anyone but you)

i wrote this in one night can you tell lmao, anyways tysm!!! i hope this breaks your heart and puts it back together all at once

wc: 829

cw: talks/depictions of explosions, blood, injury, death, dissociation, reader literally almost kills a man, barely proofread

“Bombarda Maxima!” You heard his voice, you saw his face, you recognized it from the wanted poster you saw of him. Augustus Rookwood, a death eater.

You saw the spell hit right where Fred was standing. You witnessed him go down, disappearing in smoke and debris from the attack.

Once your ears stopped ringing a painful amount and the smoke cleared. You could see his body laid against the wall, head hanging down and his body still.

In the distance could see Rookwood standing there, staring at the destruction he caused with a pleased look. 

Body moving faster than your brain, you were sprinting towards him now. He began to runaway.

You were screaming an array of offensive spells as you chased after him. Reciting every one that you remembered from your dueling classes.

You were able to knock his wand out of his hand when he tried to cast something back at you, it flew somewhere out of reach of the both of you.

Throat sore and legs aching, you didn’t stop chasing after him.

“Diffindo! Confringo!” You moved onto more destructive spells, not caring about the pillars and stone you accidentally hit when the spells missed him.

“Sectumsempra!” A white bolt shot out of your wand, hitting him right in the back and knocking him forward into the ground.

You didn’t expect the spell to work, more of you didn’t know what to expect. You’d never used it before, never learned about it.

The only time you heard it and witnessed it being used was when Snape casted it and cut off George’s ear.

All you knew is that it did damage, harm, pain. That’s all you wanted to cause towards Rookwood.

You came to a stop once you were just a few steps away from where he was, grunting and squirming in agony on the ground. 

There were slash marks all over his body, blood soaking all throughout his clothing.

As you stood there in front of him, the only sounds were your sharp breaths, out of sync with Rookwoods pained ones.

Fred was gone. You saw him yourself. Limp and lifeless in the debris.

All morals were gone as you stared at him, your wand pointed and ready to cast.

It’s not fair he gets to live while Fred doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to.

The call of your name and a hand on your shoulder was enough to make you spin around, pointing your wand threateningly at whoever was behind you.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Fred shouted, putting his hands up in innocence. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Fred’s shaky hands hovered over your shoulders, not sure if you were okay to be touched yet. You wanted to lock eyes with him, to comfort him with your gaze if he needed it, you knew he did. But a large part of you didn't want to see the state he was in.

You weren’t sure there was any comfort in your eyes either, only anger and fear. It was this strange  dissociated daze you were stuck in. Fred tried to shake you from it with his words.

“Look, it’s me. It’s only me.” He held your face with weak and bloodied hands, wiping the dirt and strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face.

Your breaths were still sharp, body still tense, hand still tightly grasped around your wand, still looking around for any danger.

He kept repeating his words, saying your name, pleading for you to look at him until you finally did.

As your eyes locked with his, your sharp breaths turned into shaky sobs. 

“I thought you were…you looked…” Your hands roamed all over his upper half, “You’re here…oh God, you’re hurt.” you sobbed as you felt a warm soaked part on his torso. 

“I know, I know, let’s just…let’s just sit.” He limped and directed you to sit down with him on a knocked over pillar. You noticed more of his injuries through bleary eyes.

“Your leg, it’s all-“ You stared in horror at his damaged body, blood bleeding through his shirt and pants.

“I know. Let me just..” Your wand was now in his hand. He must’ve taken your wand from you while he was trying to bring your focus back to him. “Ferula.” He casted and bandages appeared, wrapping around his wounds. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath in response.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He breathed out, his voice soft yet out of breath. Your only response was to cry even more and wrap your arms around him.

Fred rubbed your back and shushed you. 

He held onto as if you were built out of ash, like you would crumble into his hands if he applied too much pressure. While you gripped onto him, his shirt balling up in your fists, refusing to let go. You practically were crumbling in his hold.

“It’s alright. It’s all over. It’s done. I’m here. I’m here.”

[katakaluptastrophy]

Abigail Pent literally brought her husband, and look where that got her!

Oh, I can't be normal about this...

Ianthe is saying all of the quiet parts out loud about cavaliership in the Nine Houses:

She says "the cavalier’s job is to die for the necromancer" (Palamedes tries to gloss this to "protect the necromancer", but concedes that "if this entails their own death, then they're expected to accept that"). She talks about Naberius as a commodity, procured at birth, raised for a purpose, modifiable and disposable at will.

She wants to make it clear that she was terribly clever and has no regrets. Which is obviously why she's been thinking about two people she deems "dull and stupid" to the extent that they're her main touchpoint for explaining her position and that she name checks both of them, separately, during her responses... (poor Magnus).

Because the Fifth represent the opposite of how things turned out for the Third: an incidental cavaliership to a relationship of two equals who chose each other (against social currents, quite possibly on several counts). Ianthe made a choice at Canaan House. And Abigail made choices eleven and five years before that. And Ianthe has been thinking about those choices.

So Abigail Pent brought her husband on a research jolly to the First instead of bringing a slave to the killing fields (to paraphrase Harrow). And where did that get her?

Well, The Unwanted Guest rather confirms Abigail's heretical speculations about the River: it is not the end, but a purgatorial passing point through which one can travel lightly to the further shore, or sink down to the horrors at the bottom. Abigail may not have gained ultimate power and posters of her face, but she did end HTN going off to cross the River to what, in the implied cosmology of TLT, sounds rather like heaven.

And as for Ianthe? Jod's "indelible sin" may not be the most reliable account of Lyctoral River theology, but Lyctors do not seem to travel lightly in the River...and the Stoma did try to grab Ianthe back in HTN. The newly created Paul offers Ianthe - and Naberius - a second chance and she rejects it.

And now the Death of God has been released, Ianthe has bet on God, God is having a mid-dismyriad crisis, and the girl Abigail Pent risked a second and total death to help knows the truth and is off to harrow hell.

Ianthe Naberius used her cavalier for the rotten true purpose of cavaliers, and look where that got her.

[yournightmary]

Roommate!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of weed, being drunk and creepy men

AN:: Hi! I’m really glad (surprised) you all liked my last one:) I’m taking requests, only smaller things though:( still trying to get a hang of the whole writing thing.

part II here!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who was so desperate to save some money that she posted a roommate ad online. First 10 people were total creeps, then there were like 5 different guys that thought it was some kind of a sexual offer. But then you reached out.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who at first was really nervous to meet you, a little scared about you actually being a 40 year old white man.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who hid most of her nerdy stuff because she was afraid you would make fun of her or find her weird. Stuffed all of her funko pops into her closet and shoved her posters under her bed :(

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who for the first like 2 months wouldn’t be found dead in the same room as you. And if by some miracle she was, she would be so painfully awkward. She was scared that she’ll make you uncomfortable somehow, but you were just like ??? you thought she was really nice and cute??

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who spent most of her time at Jesse’s babbling about how funny and cool and beautiful you are. She felt a little bad about it, you were just her roommate after all. A roommate she was crushing on like a middle schooler.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who stopped laughing at the ‘and they were roommates’ jokes, instead she would get embarrassed and immediately think about you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who finally got the balls to befriend you when one time Dina and Jesse paid her an unexpected visit.

“Do you uh-… you wanna hang out with us?” She asked you awkwardly, fiddling nervously with her fingers. Her heart was racing and her hands were so clammy… god what was happening to her?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who absolutely loves watching dumb tv shows with you. I’m talking Love Island, Kitchen nightmares, Big Brother- all that crap. One time she watched a new episode of your favorite show without you and felt so bad about it… and about faking her reactions while rewatching it with you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who doesn’t really care about skincare but always watches you do your routine. She just uses a cheap face wash and a plain moisturizer and somehow her skin is clear like glass. Whenever you ask her to let you do her skincare she’ll act like she doesn’t want it, but inside she’s literally giggling and kicking her feet.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who always looks at you walking around the apartment with heart shaped eyes. No matter if you just woke up and your hair is a mess or if you just got back from a party and are stumbling drunkenly into every corner. She thinks you’re effortlessly beautiful, end of story.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who is naturally messy, but not in a bad way? She just has a lot of clutter around, little trinkets and doohickeys she found god knows where.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who breaks at least one mug a week. She’s really clumsy and the fact that you’re all that she can think about doesn’t help.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who felt like a teenager that got caught smoking cigarettes when you found out she smokes weed. She was already high by the time you came back from work and almost got a panik attack. You had to babysit her until she got better.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who loves when you call your small shared apartment ‘home’. It just stirs something deep inside her and puts a grin on her face.

I’ll probably make a part 2 when I get more ideas:3