#also i’m manifesting this team for you one day!

[ticklystuff]

Heeeeello! This is not my team, but could I request hmmm Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao and Aether if that's not too troublesome? ^^

send your genshin team!

omg it's aether and his harem hehehe thanks for the ask and hope you enjoy!

who’s the most ticklish character

This one's really hard because they're all ticklish babies, but I'm going go with Scara because I think it'd be really funny if the biggest ler of the group is also the most sensitive one and he has a love/hate relationship with it because being the most sensitive means he gets tickled a lot and gives him that attention he needs but also he's constantly teased for it

who’s the character that most people would assume isn't ticklish, but actually is

Changed this question because all genshin characters are ticklish i know this because i'm literally mihoyo's ceo Scara because he's a literal puppet but he has nerve endings like the rest of us hehehe Also Xiao because he tends to want nothing to do with tickling and is just standoffish at a glance, so people just assume that he isn't. If someone asks him, he'll kinda just brush it off, but he won't try to sway their opinion one way or the other. Ironically, Scara is the mouthiest about trying to convince people he's not ticklish, which just leads them to believe otherwise

who’s the character that everyone gangs up on and tickles

Xiao! When he notices Scara tickling Aether, he'll try and sneak out of the room unnoticed, only to be stopped by Albedo at the doorway. It doesn't help that his body freezes up when he's tickled (he's like a possum that plays dead except he's laughing so it doesn't work lmao) Okay lksadjfklsad like imagine Albedo cornering Xiao while Scara and Aether are busy tickle fighting and Albedo is just lightly circling his thumbs up Xiao's sides and almost gets to his underarms but not quite because Xiao will shriek if he does and Xiao is heavy breathing and trying to control his giggles because he knows that if he's too loud then Aether and Scara will hear him and come over and start tickling him too and he's not sure he can handle three lers at once and Albedo knows this very well and looks at Xiao all smug and he leans down and whispers something like "be careful... not too loud or they might just notice you" and every time Albedo's thumbs traverse up his sides they get just the tiniest bit closer each time and Xiao has to screw his eyes shut to focus on not going into full-blown laughter and it doesn't help that he can hear Aether and Scara's own laughter in the background because it makes him wanna laugh too

who’s the character that somehow knows everyone else’s tickle spots and reveals them to others

Aether because they're all his boyfriends and he knows and loves them very well! This is a double-edged sword though because if one of them wants to know another's tickle spots, they just have to tickle it out of Aether. Also, since they're all his boyfriends, it means they all know and love him very well lmao

who’s the character with one specific tickle spot that only one other person knows about

Aether is the only one to know about Albedo's diamond spot on his neck being his most ticklish spot because that's his special spot that he likes to give kissies to just to hear Albedo laugh. Sometimes, though, he'll tease Albedo about telling the others just to watch the little panic briefly flicker through his eyes hehe

who’s the most likely to win gang tickle wars

This one's hard but I can tell you who would lose: Xiao! I think it'd be a toss-up between Albedo and Scara. Albedo is a naturally skilled ler and I think Scara would be very aggressive and not give up till he's on the brink of passing out lol

which character has a kink for tickling

You cannot convince me Albedo wouldn't have a tickle kink lmao this is the headcanon I hope to take with me to my grave

which character didn’t even know they were ticklish until another character tickled them

Probably Scara because of the whole puppet thing. He was pretty much a loner when he joined at first, but Aether tried to warm him up to the group with tickles and at first he hated it, but now it's something he's come to enjoy even though he won't admit it

which two characters have tickle fights all the time

ALBEDO AND SCARA because Albedo is very smug and cool and level-headed and Scara is very cocky and I think Scara would easily be taunted into a tickle fight with Albedo and lose like 9/10 out of ten but they're like shonen manga rivals and are constantly at it LOL Also, I don't think Xiao is very good at tickling but I think he'd be more comfortable with tickling others around Aether and Aether will purposefully lose just to let him win!

[vettelsdarling]

𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐞

Lissie note… Here’s the second winner of the poll. I stupidly duplicated him💀 but just tallied those numbers together. Also yes, I’m trying out new layouts rn so please lmk if this looks great or not<3

Summary: A photographer from the heart of NYC has been in a low-key relationship with Lando Norris for a while now…

————

Things to note:

Reader is a menace tbh

Lando and reader are separated by 2 yrs

Reader is a known photographer (just not famous yk)

————

Pairing: Lando Norris x Photographer!Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Playlist recommendations: 𝐋𝐍𝟒, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗

Taglist: @drugged-kitkat, @ophcelia, @darleneslane, @allwaysalleyway, @littlesatanicassholebitch

Twitter

yourusername

Liked by yourbestfriend and 253 others

yourusername What a great day to change my pfp on my Twitter😮‍💨

View all comments

yourbestfriend Isn’t that the camera I got you last Christmas?

yourusername Merry Christmas ig

yourbestfriend The enthusiasm🥰

yourusername WOW!?!???!!!! IT REALLY IS THE CAMERA YOU GAVE ME LAST YEAR AHHH I STILL HAVE IT CAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourbestfriend Nah now it doesn’t feel genuine😒

Liked by yourusername

landonorris

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 847,733 others

Tagged: yourusername, mclaren

landonorris What’s up 2023?🧡

View all comments

user1 The photos are better this year wtf😮‍💨

user2 He looks amazing regardless

user3 YESSS IT’S BACKKK LET’S GOO🧡🧡🧡

yourusername Ty for the tag, great working w/ you

Liked by landonorris

user4 Ty for blessing Lando’s face

user5 She’s a magician with a camera😩

user6 Danny isn’t racing this yr right?😞

user7 Yeah he isn’t😭😭😭

user8 Ugh MCLAREN WHYYY

user9 I’m manifesting🫡

user10 Actually so delulu I made a mood board consisting ONLY of Lando😃

user11 At least you’re self aware💀

Twitter

yourusername

Liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris and 373 others

Tagged: landonorris, mclaren

yourusername Tbh I feel kinda bad for knowing next to NOTHING abt f1 but I’ll just do my job and whatever to pay rent in New York🤡 Last resort is the pole (not position😞)

View all comments

yourbestfriend 💀

yourusername Are you implying I wouldn’t be a great pole dancer?🤨

yourbestfriend Honestly? Yeah🥰

yourusername Bitch.

landonorris I didn’t even realize you’d take this many pics

yourusername Welcome to your new life (I sound and look like a fucking stalker rn wtaf)

yourfriend WTF YOU NEVER SAID YOU PHOTOGRAPHED LANDO NORRIS????

yourusername Surprise!!😻

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,194,290 others

Tagged: yourusername

landonorris Checking out the credentials🤨

View all comments

yourusername At least I’m better than you🥰

landonorris You make a fair point… it’s your job😒

user1 Bffr rn😭

user2 Wdym? it’s his designated photographer. I think she’s a part of the team cause McLaren hired her

user1 Wait really?

user2 …yeah💀

user3 The way I love this new photographer😩

user4 Yeah she’s good. She’s well known in the photography world as one of the best in nyc

user3 Wtf that’s such an honor

user5 IS THAT HER??? 10 bucks they’re dating but not telling us

user6 Nah that’s too quick💀 They JUST hired her like this year.

user7 I’m excited for her shots in Miami

user8 I’ve seen some of her stuff at her gallery. Some of it sells for more than a month’s salary

user9 Her instagram is private😔💔

user10 It’s always been😭😭😭

f1gossip

5,367 likes

f1gossip New beau, Lando?👀

View all comments

user1 HUH WHAT😃

user2 They are just friends they are just friends they are just friends

user3 stfu what is this😭

user4 That looks a lot like yourusername

user5 💀

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend and 271 others

yourusername Luckily this account is private💪 Hope they don’t find my very not private Twitter💀

View all comments

yourbestfriend Good luck😭

yourusername ty, I will not need it😩

landonorris what is this Twitter you speak of🤨🤨🤨

yourusername Nothing👽

f1gossip

2,378 likes

f1gossip Looks like Lando’s girl has Twitter👀

View all comments

user1 Wtaf I love her

user2 Ever wondered she might not want it leaked💀

yourusername Oh… wow…😐

user3 OFMHSK IT’S YOU

yourusername In all my glory😮‍💨🔥

user4 I love how she’s literally just like everyone else and not some snob😭

lando.jpg

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, infour and 927,382 others

Tagged: yourusername

landonorris Who would’ve thought it was possible to post your own paparazzi photos?!

View all comments

yourusername Holy shit, this is revolutionary🤯

Liked by landonorris

yourusername Why don’t the media just hire me to take better pics of us🤡🤡

landonorris Ikr

user1 Nah I’m loving this

user2 They are really handing the media’s ass on a silver plate💀💀💀

user3 This is pure gold😭

user4 I thought Kika and Pierre were my fav but Lando and her just raised the bar

user5 Honestly lmao

user6 why aren’t more wags like this

user7 Publicity probs

user8 Publicity doesn't make sense because she’d fear it too..?

user7 Nah I actually don’t think she cares very much💀

user9 You guys keep doing you, this is amazing.

yourusername Hell yeah😩

Twitter

yourusername

Liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 563 others

yourusername We’ve been around👯‍♀️

Tagged: yourbestfriend

View all comments

yourbestfriend FUCK YEAH WE HAVE

yourusername Ugh we should travel together sometime

yourbestfriend We should

landonorris Where was my invite?

yourusername Nonexistent.

landonorris Wow. I feel so insulted.

yourusername

Liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 63,278 others

Tagged: landonorris, yourbestfriend

yourusername Welcome to my Instagram, peasants. Above, you can see a little bit of everything I serve on here (and yes, I do SERVE).

View all comments

yourbestfriend Hot

yourusername I know

landonorris ❤️

yourusername tmrw is our 1 yr anniversary.

landonorris Did you think I forgot?

yourusername Yes

landonorris You’re not wrong…

user1 1 YEAR WHAT????

user2 They hid it for so long😭

user3 I’ve been waiting ages to finally gain access to her Instagram

yourusername thank you, loyal plebe.

user4 2nd pic is me during exam season❤️

user5 Literally same

user6 She’s living my dream fr

yourusername I must be very powerful, then

user7 Skin care routine???

yourusername Random shit from drugstores

user8 She’s so down to earth but classy in a funny way. How tf do I even explain her😭

yourusername I’m an enigma

user9 Lando is lucky wtf

yourusername Right?

user10 No but you and Lando compliment each other so well

yourusername Ty<3

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 1,037,278 others

Tagged: yourusername

landonorris For a whole year, you’ve given me everything I’ve ever needed. A fun and breezy outlook on life. You’re just amazing. I love you and I didn’t forget about today❤️

Comments have been limited

yourusername I’ll let it go for today. Only because I love you too❤️

Liked by landonorris

maxverstappen1 Congrats you guys👏

Liked by landonorris

yourbestfriend Feels like yesterday I told you how to get her attention😔

Liked by landonorris

carlossainz55 Congratulations guys, enjoy yourselves today🍾

Liked by landonorris

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻…

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

*Please note that liking the taglist will not put you on it!

[norrisreads]

kiss me kiss me #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader, mercedes staff!, platonic friendships with most of the drivers

SUMMARY: everyone has a crush on carlos sainz, everyone including you

WARNINGS: fluff fluff FLUUFF!!!!!!!

FACECLAIM: jennierubyjane on ig

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Daydreaming and people watching was something you’ll caught yourself doing mostly. At times, working in the motorsport industry, you’ll find yourself being busy but yet so free and here you are just staring into the space while sitting on the sidelines of the mercedes paddock club.

Until you felt someone sitting next to you, “Just to let you know, taking a picture helps, the staring is a little intense, y/n”

you recognised the voice of a specific Williams racings driver.

“what are you talking about, i’m just people watching as always albon. Where’s lily?” you shrugged your shoulders

“lily’s coming in a while, no but i am serious y/n, pipe down on the staring at the ferrari’s. George and I have been on a look out for you, you’ve been out here for at least an hour”

Honestly, you didn’t know it has been an hour until Alex told you off.

To tell the truth, you had a little crush on the driver from ferrari, specifically carlos sainz. Everything about him, just happens to be your exact ideal type. The only interaction you had with him was during the after party where he offered a drink & that’s probably when you started gaining feelings for the said driver.

“he’s so pretty and i am just this” you told alex.

“you could get it you know, there is alot of the engineers and staffs who are interested in you, especially because you’re always living up the moments, they’re just scared of toto”

Susie and you were close, ever-since you’ve decided to work under Mercedes since the age of 20th, which you’re currently on the second year right now. Susie and Toto tends to favour you especially when you were one of the youngest working under Mercedes amg, being close to the both of them practically means getting invited to family dinners, team dinners and more.

Other than Toto and Susie, you were also close to George and Lewis, and being close to George means you’re close to the Williams driver Alex Albon too. You were friends with the other drivers too, but aren’t quite close which resulted in your current situation.

staring at carlos sainz. “you know he’s freshly single?”

George came and joined the conversation between you and Albon. He then passed you a pair of tinted shades, “put some shades on, think it’s getting a-bit too obvious”

the comment by george made the both brits laughed, while you rolled your eyes to express your annoyance by their presence.

“being freshly single, does not mean i will give it a try, george. We have a 6 year difference, you know how i am with age gaps”

“if you’re gonna pull the age gap card, i’m going to pull myself out of this conversation, lily and i literally have a 3 years gap”

“no shit Alex, multiply that by two and it’ll be mine and the ferrari driver”

“To make you feel better, y/n. Think about Pierre’s and kika’s, theirs are way worse than you and him” george speaks out

“let’s move on, this is just us 3 being delusional”

“yeah you’re the delusional one, we’re just manifesting that you’ll have him sooner or later” Alex shrugged his shoulder and went back to the Williams paddock.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Qualifying for the spain grand prix has just ended, you were just walking around the paddock clubs area, instead of being at mercedes, you’ve decided to explore a little. Susie had suggested for you to have a quick walkabout knowing your job tasks was done earlier in the day, and you were just waiting for the drivers to be back on the mercedes building.

Fully focusing on the application opened on your mobile phone, you weren’t really well aware of your surroundings until you bumped in-to a certain someone.

shit, “lamento lo ocurrido, oh..?”

the universe has decided to aligned with you today, because right now you could feel the bpm of your heart rate increasing to more than 100.

“oh y/n right? i didn’t know you can speak spanish” carlos was holding on to your shoulders to balance you from the impact of the bump the both of you had.

“no, no. I meant yeah, i’m y/n, what i am saying is no i can’t speak spanish, those words were kinda taught to me by google, just for this weekend” you nervously stuttered and laugh

“that’s a cute effort to learn, where are you headed to right now? it’s a-bit crowded ain’t it?” carlos continuing the conversation

did mother earth suddenly decides to love me today?

“yeah cute effort i guess, oh just walking around trying to familiarise myself with this surrounding for tomorrow’s race! yeah it’s way crowded rather than yesterday! congrats on p2 for qualifying by the way!”

having a conversation with him feels utterly weird yet you’re thankful for this situation to happened, because whew this man couldn’t be anymore finer than a greek god.

“Gracias, lindura! See you later, perhaps? George’s on his way, by the look of it I think he’s finding for you love, it was nice talking to you” carlos smiled and waved at you, walking alongside Lando Norris.

dings

three little pigs

russell: what the fuck was that? were the two of you talking?

albon: what’s going on

what does, lindura means? cutie????: y/n

albon: did he called you that????????

albon: ANSWER ME!

russell: they bumped into each other, they had a 5 mins conversation, in that 5 minutes she told me her heart rate bpm increased to 110 (she thinks) he also held her

albon: why are you answering me

russell: i’m telling you the details that she’s telling me right now, appreciate it you idiot

guys i think i’m in love, Spanish accent is so sexy to wake up to everyday, six years is nothing to me : y/n

albon: i could simply ask charles for carlos contact y/n, let me do it please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

russell: she just smacked my shoulders

“this is crazy george, that’s like my second time talking to him”

you paused your walk and turned yourself to face george

“hey guys” a thick french accent.

“oh charles, what a great timing” george pulled charles to the side and into our conversation

“hi charles”

“what’s this about? not in the Mercedes sidelines today staring into our building, y/n?” charles laughed which made my eyes turned wide

“what the fuck charles, YOU NOTICED? it was just one time, i swear.” i hid my face with my hands

“if it wasn’t for george’s tinted glasses, carlos would have caught you, good thing carlos is oblivious to everything” charles snickered yet finding the whole staring interaction adorable knowing from george about your tiny little (not tiny and little) crush towards Carlos.

“fucking embarrassing, this is my last appearance here. Im quitting this job” you rolled your eyes jokingly

“as if toto, susie and lewis will agree on that, you’re the sweet child of mercedes. Good-luck on pursuing carlos though, he’s a great guy y/n!” Charles ruffled your hair and walked off to the red building.

“I’m submitting my resignation letter tomorrow, i’m telling you Russell, leclerc can’t keep his mouth zipped. If half the grid knows of my little crush, it’s 70% chance my resignation letter will be on toto’s desk latest by next week” you sighed, for seeing the future

“dramatic as always” george laughed

y/nsocials just posted on Instagram (followers only)

tagged lewishamilton susiewolff y/nbestff

liked by georgerussell63 carlossainz55 and 11 others

y/nsocials may & beginning of june dump 💋🎞️

pierregasly this isn’t a dump , i’m not even in the dump cherie

↳ y/nsocials do you hear that? the sound of me not giving a shit ♥️

↳ charles_leclerc can’t back you up sorry mate pierregasly

carlossainz55 cute :)

↳ y/nsocials thank you carlos! ♥️

georgerussell63 alex_albon cute X)

↳ mickschumacher cute :>

↳ lewishamilton cute :p

↳ y/nsocials I’m resigning.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

SPAIN GP 2023 AFTER PARTY

you were on your way to the after party with alex and lily, the others has already reached and you had to ask for a ride with the couple.

“how’s the progress of you and carlos, i’ve seen the comment”

lily asked u, i wish there was a progress though.

“the only progress there is was the fact my heart beats faster now whenever i think about the comment”

“dramatic as always, but i am being for real. Lily and i are curious, y/n. I can always ask for carlos contacts and pass it to you” alex rolled his eyes

“you were dramatic too when lily answered your dms. No alex, i want his attention the old fashion way, with him giving me his phone number by himself”

you sat back on the car seat with lily making sure your current outfit wouldn’t get ruined

“well i’m sure with what you’re wearing now, his eyes will be stuck on you all night and that phone number will be in your phone as soon as possible” lily commented and that comment had made you feel 100x more delusional as ever

dings

sharls shared a contact with you

sharls : he’s asking where’s your current location, i know the both of will you never do it, but i’m impatient

sharls : if he did ask for your number tonight, it’s because of me

what the fuck? what the fuck does charles means…..

what are you talking about??????? what about me? : y/n

Carlos Operatoooooor

russell changed group name to : carlos operatoooooor

russell added mickey chewsmacker

russell added chewis hamiltons

russell added sharls leclerc

russell: recruited new member(s)

mickey: why did i not know about this y/n

chewis: it was obvious mick, you should’ve seen her having her everyday ‘carlos’ watching hours

russell: every 2pm, don’t ask just watch

sharls: if stares could kill someone, carlos would’ve been dead

i’m in this chat idiots. I’m not invisible. : y/n

albon: we’re on the way, she’s with us! Lily thinks carlos is going to hit on her tonight, let’s see

sharls: i’m not surprised. Let’s see if toto lets y/n walk around though, first challenge 😨

you were going to fucking throw up, you were finally sitting down after celebrating max, lewis and george’s wins. Being in a huge crowded place wasn’t really your forte, but for the sake of your job you had to do it.

Other than that, susie had to bring you around to engage with other teams knowing how anti-social you are, and here you are finally having a breather outside of the club and zero signs of the carlos sainz.

you weren’t really a smoker type of person instead just a casual smoker but ever-since fully adulting, resulting to having a few puffs allowed your thoughts to permanently vanish.

you were covering your shoulders with Alex’s denim jacket (of course with the permission of lily’s) , sitting on the porch of the back exit of the club. Whenever the door swings open, you could here the songs bass booming and you could just feel a headache coming sooner or later.

Just a few minutes in, you felt the denim jacket that was on your shoulders lifted up, and replaced by a red jacket.

“thought this might be a better option, you look much greater in red anyways”

and there he was, carlos sainz taking a seat next to you.

and you’re so sure your heart is over the roof because there wasn’t any gap between you and carlos sainz.

“thank you, i don’t know about red, teal looks much better on me”

“well to me, red looks stunning on you. everything alright? too much to drink?”

if it wasn’t for the amount of blusher you’ve decided to use, the redness on your natural cheeks would’ve given away from the said comment

“just a slight pounding in the head, taking a breather. you want a puff?”

well honestly, you don’t even know if you should be offering him

“thanks for the offer love, but i don’t smoke. do your own thing, i’ll be accompanying you. A pretty woman shouldn’t be alone on the back exits”

if there’s anything a few drinks could do is having you feel so much bolder

“don’t flatter a woman like that carlos, she’s gonna fall for you especially coming from a ferrari driver”

“I wouldn’t mind flattering a woman if it’s you y/n”

there was a moment of silence because you had no idea how to react, “it’s the drunkenness in me but you’re driving me crazy carlos”

“care to explain, mi amor?”

you shook your head because no sane woman would tell the guy they have been eye-fucking that they’re interested

dings

carlos: hey cutie

“that’s my number, got yours from charles, if you’re ever wondering”

incoming facetime from mickey chewsmacker

answer or decline

“that’s mick’s name?” you nodded your head and Carlos laughed

you answered the phone-call and set it to loud speaker

“where are you little lady”

“back exit, it’s too loud in there”

“with mr prince charming?” you could hear Alex’s voice in the background

“if it’s me then yeah, she’s with the prince charming” carlos butt in the call, which made my face turned a shade of tomato red

not knowing mick was crowded around the others was also something you’ll never expected

“so no more staring from the sidelines?” this time, charles

carlos looking at you confused, you refused eye contact with him which made carlos snatching your phone away to have a conversation with charles in italian and with charles drunk on the phone, you knew the moment carlos looked at you wide eye you’ve realised charles had told him those staring moments, he then ended the call

“taking a picture would’ve lasted mi amor, i’m surprised i am unaware”

“i wasn’t looking at you, you were just in the view” you shrugged

“and that view is me?” carlos laughed and rested his head on your shoulders “you’re really cute, do you know?”

“yeah it happens to be you and i am fully aware Carlos”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

3 MONTHS LATER

y/nsocials just posted on instagram (followers only)

tagged carlossainz55 y/nbestff

liked by charles_leclerc susiewolff carlossainz55 and others

y/nsocials i fell in luv but that’s okay cause i’m in luv 💋💋 #baggedaman

lewishamilton so will you be on merc or ferrari’s side from now on 🫨

↳ georgerussell63 answer y/n. our friendship is on the line

↳ mickschumacher we manifested this but we didn’t foresee this situation

↳ alex_albon yeah whatever they said ^

↳ y/nsocials dramatic all of you. merc forever of course (maybe)

↳ carlossainz55 she’s ferrari’s on sundays

carlossainz55 always swayed by you mi amor 💋

↳ charles_leclerc no longer eye fucking on the sidelines yeah

↳ y/nsocials charles_leclerc STOP PERCEVAL.

↳ y/nsocials love you so so sooooooo much

landonorris boyfriend stealer 💀😠

↳ y/nsocials cry about it!!!!!!!!! mine forever 🫢

y/nbestff give her back to me carlossainz55

↳ carlossainz55 sorry no can’t do

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

↳ end note: that’s all!!!!!!! sorry for rarely posting, have been kinda busy w school nowadays! hope you guys enjoy the carlos fluff 💋

[its-time-to-write]

I AM RUSHING TO GET THIS IN!!!

Friends to lovers maybe with a disabled reader?? Maybe she's someone he knew from back home who he runs into at a diner she's working at now. Maybe she feels like he abandoned her and her life fell apart when he moved away?

ANyway love you lots!!!

warning: there’s a lot of parentheses (it’s a choice) and a lot of swearing (I do what I want)

reader’s dialogue/feelings are based off my own experiences so if u read this and are like ??? don’t worry about it. i’m just projecting. the chronic illness is unspecified.

LOVE U BABE

you’ll probably date her

It’s hard enough growing up in a council estate in a shit part of Manchester (although you’d staunchly defend there’s no such thing as a shit part of Manchester) but it’s harder with fucking chronic illness. It manifests is clumsiness (joint pain), fidgeting (widespread pain), and bruising (skin problems).

Not to mention the fucking tiredness.

School is complete shit all the time, and life is complete shit all the time too. 

Okay fine, not all the time, but a lot of the time.

There are bright spots in between flare ups, bright spots that consist of learning how to bake with Simon (Jamie’s stepdad) and petting Roy (Jamie’s cat) and watching horribly cheesy movies with Georgie (Jamie’s mum).

Oh, and Jamie. 

You’ve known Jamie since birth, probably, when your mum brought you home and Jamie sat down on the saggy couch, aged two, and asked, “When does it open its eyes?”

He took it upon himself to look after you, magnanimous in a way he would not have been if you were actually related to him (thank god). When he starts to get tired of you, he can go back home to his own room and his own mum and hug her tight without having to share her with anyone else.

When you’re three and he’s five, you get a diagnosis. Jamie says, “That’s shit,” when your mum tells him you can’t play, and you’re told that you echo him with your first swear. 

“That’s shit,” comes your tiny voice from the sofa, face down and covered in bags of frozen peas.

Your mum is too surprised by the first words you’ve said all day, that she a) doesn’t scold you and b) doesn’t catch Jamie as he slips by her into the house. He sits on the floor and starts to tell you about primary school and helps your mum when it’s time to put the peas back in the slightly-broken freezer.

It goes like that for years. 

When you’re feeling well, you kick a football around with Jamie. When you’re feeling poorly, he climbs the steps to your room and tells you things, anything at all to distract you from the pain ripping through your body.

It’s nice. It makes you feel, like, someone cares, almost? Or someone understands? Or maybe the world isn’t carrying on without you, that a piece of it does stop when you do, and maybe you aren’t entirely alone.

You first realize you like Jamie (like-like) when you’re twelve and it feels like ice-cold water has been poured on your head, but not exactly in an unwelcoming way.

A shock, sure, but a soothing one.

You don’t tell him, but you think he probably knows. He’s not an idiot, he’s had girls swooning all over him since he was eight. 

(And your mum knows, and she and Georgie talk, and Georgie tells Jamie to be extra nice to you and maybe a little bit careful not to be mean about it.)

He carefully slips on your small bed when you’re fifteen and he’s sixteen (almost seventeen, but it’s the one time of the year when you’re only a year apart) and balances on his side so he can look at you.

“You’ll be alright?” he asks, and you don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.

He’s going to play for Manchester (City, not United, and not the Premier League Team), and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You don’t say anything, so he gingerly pats your head. It messes up your hair, but it also feels like tiny electric sparks are shooting through your body (not the pain kind).

He lays there for a long time, whispering about secondary school and football and making enough money to buy houses for everyone he’s ever loved, you included.

(He promises he’ll call all the time.)

—

He does call, until he doesn’t.

Some days are good, some days are bad, and now the bad days feel like they’re your fault.

“You’re overdoing it,” your boss says, “You need to slow down or you’ll be out sick tomorrow.”

You bite back the words I’m doing my fucking best, and just nod. Fuck him, and fuck this. You can work just the same as everyone else, pain be damned. There are fucking bills to pay and yeah, this shit hurts, but what the fuck are you supposed to do. Benefits aren’t enough at the moment, and it’s been a solid two years since you’ve given up on waiting for a knight in shining armor (even if that knight is in the Premier League now, just like he always swore he’d be).

Your boss is fucking right the fucker, but you push through on Friday (it’s fucking shit) and crash on Saturday (it’s even more fucking shit).

Your mum places bags of frozen fruit on your joints, rearranging the pillows on the floor. You’ve long since outgrown the couch, instead needing more space. Your dad moved the coffee table, saying, “It’s on its last legs anyway,” and the space you called a living room now became a treatment room of sorts.

Georgie and Simon come over all the time for family dinner (potluck-style) and they are comfortable enough step over you or sit down on the floor to talk.

It sounds worse than it is, but when they’re in the flat it feels better, all warm and glowy, like things are right.

Nights are the worst, with the moving around trying to get comfortable, so you’re awake bright and early on Sunday morning. Early enough to sit on a bench in front of the estates, bundled up in your duvet and puffing cold air out into the sky.

You hear footsteps splashing down the tunnel, someone on their way home after a long night. Or maybe it’s one of the many kids who like to sneak out to play footie in hopes that they’ll be the next Jamie Tartt.

He’s not that great, you want to tell them, except you don’t even believe it yourself. He is that great, he’ll always be that great, and you should have fucking known that he was going to fuck off and fuck a gorgeous, carefree model and not you. 

(Not that you want to fuck him. Well, you do, but you also want to, like, hold his hand.)

It was always going to end up this way, you should have known not to actually have real feelings for him, you should have left it at a childhood crush and not let yourself believe something could actually happen.

The footsteps pass you by, and it’s a man in a baseball hat and an awful silk-print tracksuit carrying a Gucci travel bag.

He’s out of place here, and you wonder if he’s lost. But no, he strides up to Georgie and Simon’s door like he owns the place, pulls out a key, and walks right in. It’s only after the door swings shut behind him that you realize it’s Jamie.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, clouds accompanying the words.

(You won’t admit it, but the surprise has rebooted your system a little bit, aching limbs forgotten for a moment.)

—

“This is shit,” you say as you lean on your fucking cane of all things. “It’s one thing if it’s Simon and Georgie, it’s another fucking thing if it’s Jamie fucking Tartt.”

“That’s a lot of fucking fucks,” your father says sagely, ignoring the glare you send his way and saying ow as your mum swats the back of his head.

“It’s only two fucks and one shit,” you tell him. “And I’m not going.”

“Then I’ll tell them to come over here,” your mum says placidly. 

Absolutely not. Also-fucking-lutely not.

“I am going to my room,” you say with dignity, turning to go back up the stairs.

Your dad waves, the prick. “Have fun,” he says helpfully. You flip him off without looking, and you know for a fact he’s doing it back. You know he’ll be up in an hour with a plate of dinner and sneak you early desert.

There is no fucking way you’re seeing Jamie after two years like this.

The cane is a relatively new development and sure, it’s helpful with walking sometimes, but a cane? The fuck were the doctors thinking when they suggested this? You’re barely twenty, not a damn convalescent. 

By the time you make it to your room, the doorbell’s ringing and voices are filling the flat. You reach for your bottle of pills and carefully tap the right amount into your hand (even though you know there is no drug on earth to calm down your traitor heart).

You lay down flat on your back with no immediate plans to move. You find your playlist and slip an earbud in, letting the music take you somewhere else. Somewhere where you don’t hurt for no reason, where you can focus like you’re supposed to, where you aren’t so damn tired all the time.

There’s a tap on your door.

“Come in,” you call to your dad, except the door opens and it’s Jamie, no longer in his stupid outfit from earlier, but in a nice jumper that you think might be Simon’s.

He smiles like he didn’t abandon you and sits down on the floor. You hand him the other earbud (it’s better than talking) and let Stevie Nicks croon in your ear.

“How’ve you been?” he asks (the prick) and you have half a mind to ignore him. 

“It’s been two years,” you remind him. “Try again.”

Jamie looks stricken. “Right, yeah, I know, it’s just- I’ve been busy.”

“Yup,” you reply. “Me too.”

(The cane is leaning on the wall by the door, and you need Jamie to not notice it.)

Jamie points to the cane. “That’s new.”

“Yep,” you say because it’s not the same as yup. It has a different vowel. It’s a different word, you’re having a civil conversation, your brain is making sentences just fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds like he means it, which is worse. “I went through some shit, you know? It don’t excuse it, but… got a new gaffer, Keeley dumped me, then I got sent back to City right when I were getting better. It’s been shit. I’ve been shit,” he corrects.

Your arm’s falling asleep so you shift, trying to stifle a groan.

Jamie’s up in a moment, all concern. “You alright?”

“Clearly,” you gasp out as savagely as possible. “Fuck off, alright? I don’t need your pity, not now, so go find some other charity case.”

Fucking flare-ups. Fucking Jamie. Fucking chronic illness and its fucking lack of a cure.

Jamie looks like he’s been slapped. To be fair, you would if you could get in the right position.

“You’re not charity,” he says, and unfortunately (and again) he sounds like he fucking means it.

“Okay,” you say. “That’s fucking mint. Thanks for staying such a good friend all these years, it’s been real fucking fun. I’ve got to lie here in discomfort, so I imagine you’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”

Jamie stares at you a moment, then leaves.

—

It’s a good day. It’s a good day and it’s raining and you don’t even care because it’s a good day. Nothing can ruin it (this isn’t a premonition) not even stupid Jamie showing up out of nowhere.

(It’s a little bit of a premonition.)

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he turns up in his mum’s kitchen, an hour before he’s supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be long gone by now, but you and Simon have cheese pinwheels in the oven that aren’t done for another twenty minutes, so now you’re stuck here until then.

“Fucking mint,” you say, just like the night before. Simon freezes but Georgie just rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll be in the other room, loves,” she says. “Jamie, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

You tell him, “I’m having a good day, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking ruin it.”

“You’re not a charity case,” he says, and you think maybe he is broken, but like a record is broken, not like a teacup.

Jamie says, “I weren’t lying about going through shit,” and you snap (like a rubber band, not a bone).

“Big fucking deal, Jamie, you’ve been going through shit since you were six years old. I’ve been going through shit too, in case you didn’t fucking notice. It’s not an excuse to be a shitty person or a shitty friend,” you burst out.

“I didn’t say it as an excuse, it’s just a fucking reason,” Jamie shouts back. “Jesus Christ, you’re not the only person with fucking problems! You’re allowed to be mad shitty sometimes, I didn’t ever complain, so why’s it fucking different for me?”

You open your mouth to tell him why it’s fucking different, except you don’t actually have a reason. How many times did you sit with him as he iced his knee, or his face, or his arm while you iced your back, or your chest, or your legs?

Pain is pain, your fucking government-issued therapist had said. And shit if she isn’t right.

“You abandoned me,” you reply, voice small. “You left me for Keeley and I wouldn’t have minded, I really wouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie rubs his face with a sigh. “Didn’t know how to talk to you, after. I knew you liked me since we were kids and I liked you too, so it felt fucking… weird. Dunno. But, I was with her because it was what I was supposed to do and she was mad fit and fucking funny. I’ve had a crush on her for fucking… ages.”

“Right,” you say, feeling one millimeter tall, “I get that.”

Jamie shakes his head and says, “Nah, you don’t.” (The fuck does he mean? He can’t read your mind).

“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Had a crush on her, didn’t I? Not the same as you. You were proper in love with me, and I…” he trails off.

“He was proper in love with you too,” comes Georgie’s voice.

Jamie turns bright red and you do too, and it’s like you’re kids again and he’s in your bed and you’re trying not to think about how close his lips are to yours.

“That’s… well, that’s…” You try and fail to come up with the right words.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, still blushing. “Yeah, suppose I was. Couldn’t do anything about it, then. Could do something about it now. If you’ve forgiven me.” He says it casually, like he won’t mind if you tell him to go away out of his own mum’s house and never return, when in reality he’ll burn up and die if you do.

“I will. I do,” you say. “I’m sorry too, I am. I can be a prick sometimes.”

Jamie shrugs, but he’s smiling a little. “I’m a prick all the time, love. Fucking… fucked childhood or some shit.”

“Some shit,” you echo. “So, proper in love with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Proper. Wrote my first name with your last on every bit of paper I could get me hands on, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off,” you say with a grin.

“It’s true,” Simon shouts from the sofa. “Found some bits when I was cleaning one day.”

Wait. Simon didn’t move in until Jamie was a teenager. That means… 

“Oh my god, were you fifteen when you were writing that? You weren’t even a kid anymore! What the fuck Jamie, you had it bad!” you tease.

“Fuck off, it was just a stupid joke,” he says defensively.

“Uh huh, sounds like,” you say as you go to wrap your arms around him. “You liked me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your head. He’s never going to fucking live this down.

[z0mbiefrank]

Transcript for Marina Toybina on the Designing Hollywood podcast

I've seen a couple people searching for a transcript of her discussing Gerard Way's stage costumes, so I have made one! Feel free to share/link as a resource. Popular quotes are bolded.

Link to source video. MCR's section starts around 22 minutes in.

The transcript is beneath the cut.

Interviewer: Well now you’ve just finished working with My Chemical Romance, which is a band that I dig. Gerard Way is also a comic book writer and artist, created the Umbrella Academy. So, first of all, how did you get that job? Because there’s a design, I mean the look of that band and what they like to do, what they’re influenced by, they’re not just your typical rock band. So what was it like? How did you get that job? You designed the whole tour right?

Marina: I Collaborated with the lead singer, yes, with Gerard. Uhm, okay everything kinda has it’s place in time. About 15 years ago, 15 to 20 years ago, I was a huge fan. I’m a rock girl at heart, and back then a lot of their music was like music to my soul. It got me through some of the harder times. A lot of my friends were musicians. I never saw them live, never could afford to get to their shows, but knew one day in my heart there probably will be an opportunity, they were in like my top 5 favorite bands. He was an artist I’ve always wanted to work with. This past summer, while I was designing So You Think You Can Dance, I just happened to turn on their music - nope- let me rewind I'm so sorry. So a year ago I was reading a release that they're coming back together on tour and they're playing LA on my birthday. I looked at my team and I was like "I'm gonna be at that show. We're gonna go to the show, we're all gonna go together." And I just jokingly said “I'll probably dress them!” A lot of things in my career have happened to manifestation, I'm a huge believer in that. I think my intentions were so clear into the universe. I believed in it so much. That happened a year ago. Then this past summer, I was driving to work, I was listening to their music and I just happened to text my agent. I'm like “You know I really want to get back into music. It's what I used to do. I used to do a lot of live performances. I used to do a lot of music videos. I need to feel that again, even though I'm surrounded with music all the time and I'm doing all these shows. But there was a disconnect in my career, to where it's like I love live entertainment.” And she’s like “Who do you want? Like are we going after pop stars?” And I'm like “No I've done all that. I want to go back to my roots. I want like Incubus or My Chemical Romance or Red Hot Chili Peppers. Get me back to rock and roll.” And she was like “Well, you know, they're touring, but it's probably… I don’t know, let's put it out there.” Then within two weeks I get an email from her like “Hey their managers want to meet with you, he wants to meet with you.” One of the biggest things about their aesthetic is one of my probably top three costume designers, Colleen Atwood, did their black parade album and it was so incredible. Back then, I was always a step behind. It's like they did The Black Parade and then I met the photographer later. Then I worked on a project with him. So it was always like some better-late-than-never I guess. And I'm like “I'm gonna work with her someday, I love her work. I've been told by many people we're a lot alike.” You know? And I'm like “Why not?” And so we get this email “He would like to take a meeting, see what we can do.” I never expected to do a tour, I just wanted to open this door of opportunity, to just collaborate, maybe do one thing together. And he just showed up in my studio and it was just an amazing artistic energy.

Interviewer: Were you starstruck?

Marina: I was trying to hold it together. I mean before they came in, I can't tell you how much I paced. Usually, there's like 15 - 20 people at my studio. This was the time and day that I was alone. I didn't know what to do. Of course, my expectations were just to present myself and see if I would be a good asset to them because I love their music and I love what he's about. Also, it’s not just the frontman for me, I think he's a brilliant artist. So there's a lot of things. I just wanted our worlds to merge somehow. Within the first five minutes of our conversation, I'm like “Oh I get his brain.” I told them my story. I told him that this is like 20 years in the making. You know, I probably sound like a crazy-fan costume designer. But we share ideas, he walked me through the concepts of things he wants to do on this particular tour and they haven't started doing the US leg of the tour. I didn't know if they had a designer. Then he did mention Colleen was doing something for him and I was like “Okay, how - can this be a triangle? You know? Can I come in in the picture?” It was just a beautiful collaboration. It was a genuine artist to artist conversation. Like “Let's do something interesting.” He walked me through his concepts, his ideas and I'm like “Alright well, let me come up with some creatives, see if we're on the same page.” Again, as much as I wanted to be like “Hey we're doing this tomorrow!” I also felt like it's important now in my career and possibly in his, to make sure the relationship is good, that this is the right artistic match to one another and… it worked! From there it was just amazing fittings, amazing collaboration and some iconic things that went viral!

Interviewer: I love hearing this from you because this is like the joyous experience of 'oh my god I dreamt of working with somebody and you finally get to do it'. But I want to take you back to that because I'm curious. How would that process even begin? You're working with somebody that you already know their music, you already know his vibe. And Colleen Atwood, who I've interviewed by the way, on the show, she's incredible. Our interview had to - she was in the middle of a work day, so it was only it was a short interview. But how does a collaboration like that work with somebody like Gerard Way? How do you guys start working together? How is that process?

Marina: For us, it was just like an initial conversation. I introduced myself, my work. They already did some background checking up to see where I stand, what my aesthetic was like. And I felt I was in a place in my life, in my career, where I was able to bring something new. That's where my confidence I think came from. At the same time I didn't want to change the artist that's in front of me. I think that's always so important for me when working with music. You're dealing with a fan base, and a reputation, an aesthetic approach that's far beyond any artistic reach of anybody new coming in. So for me it was having a conversation, understanding what characters he wanted to bring forward. This was a very playful tour. This wasn't about dressing up the whole band. This was about him being in this world of iconic characters. And how can we bring this to life? What can we do that's still very recognizable to his fans but at the same time a little bit of a shock value? But at the same time, I wanted him to be him, you know? He was in this beautiful place in his life and career where he felt great and felt confident and I just wanted to uplift that. We did our creative decks, went through the conversations of which characters we wanted to go with, these are the shows that he had. I knew which city, we kind of wanted to play off where was the right time. Halloween was right around the corner, what do we do? So it was like very strategic conversations but at the same time so much room to play and be creative. So I just gathered the top 10 characters that we had discussed and kind of started doing my own thing, and keeping him and the music in mind. Had an amazing fitting. I've never worked with an artist that's so clear. It was not just directional and very precise and very distinct on his own style, but it was clear for me when we were doing fittings, this is somebody that knows his body. This is somebody who knows his aesthetic on stage. This is somebody that knows how they're going to perform. So it just made it so much easier for me to be able to fall into his world and do the fittings like “Is this going to come off? Is this piece staying on? Are we going to do options? Is the character going to evolve on stage? Is the character going to come down on stage?” So all those conversations happen in our fittings and then I just packed it all up, with distinct notes, send them off, and then kept checking in, making sure everything was okay.

Interviewer: So when you had a direction for the characters, were you doing sketches first?

Marina: No, not at all. This was something that I felt like needed to have the research. It wasn't just about designing something on paper. When he mentioned to me “I wanted to be a vintage cheerleader” I'm like “Okay, what era are we in? 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 40’s?” and then he was like “Find me something that's within possibly this color scheme.” The image that went viral when he did wear the cheer uniform, it was probably like 10 different vintage stores that we went to. And I'm like “Okay everything's size zero.” or like “What am I gonna do? This stuff doesn't exist anymore. If I get it from Etsy it's not going to come in time.” There's like so much and it happened to be as we were leaving one of the stores I looked on a sale rack and I saw this damaged, weird, vintage cheer dress that had no zipper, that had no hem. And I was like “I love this! I love this because I can reconstruct it. I can go and get the fabrics that we need to still keep it original and authentic. And that's how we start working. I build out a mannequin his size at my studio, put it on, we reshaped it, took the whole thing apart, reconstructed it to be his measurements, and still kept it authentic. After he wore it, the pattern for the actual thing was sold out. Fans loved it so much that we were getting notifications that people actually found the original pattern of this 1940s uniform and were buying it out.

Interviewer: That's crazy, okay!

Marina: Oh it's amazing! I think, to me, that's when things are just meant to be. When not only did my work translate into something beautiful on stage, but then he becomes this incredible persona on stage that then delivers the character and plays it off. We did that throughout every single look. Every single look when it became a fan favorite or craze.

Interviewer: In terms of time, what was the process when you first got the gig and then to the first show that was performing using your work? What was the time frame?

Marina: I think I had about a month to get it all together.

Interviewer: Wow! That’s not much!

Marina: Yeh and at the same time, I had another huge project in the works so it was going back and forth. But I could not tell you, I've had difficult projects in the past, I've had difficult times with artists, or finding our own language, or how to execute some things. This was so easy that time didn't matter to me. It was such a great collaboration, it flowed, like Bruce Lee would say, like water. It just made sense and no matter how difficult my other project was or what was going on at the same time, it was like oh this is the universe showing me this is how it's supposed to be. This is what's inspiring me. And at the end of the day, the one thing I told Gerard was “You made me fall in love with music again. You came into my life as an artist that I've admired and wanted to work with for almost 20 years. There was a big part of my beginning that made me look back at this now and be like “Oh that's what. That was that feeling that I had when I was 16 or 20.”

[mgjiyu]

I cannot keep my mouth shut so here are the three main things I’d like to remind everyone after the Australian GP

1. You can dislike a driver, even hate him, without insulting him or being disrespectful. I swear it’s possible. And it might surprise you but you are totally allowed to wish for a driver to dnf as long as you don’t wish him any harm or a very nasty crash. Let me tell you, I manifest for Verstappen’s engine to fail on every race but I’ll never wish him to get in a bad crash because before being the incredible driver who annoys every non-RB fan he is, he is a human being.

2. Liking one driver more than the other one in your favourite team doesn’t make you a bad fan as long as it doesn’t interfere with the first point up there. Concrete example, I’m a Tifosa but I’m also a Charles Leclerc’s fan, of course I’m happy with the 1-2 today but of course I would have preferred if it was the other way around. Nothing wrong here because I know Carlos did an amazing weekend and deserves his win, it doesn’t mean I cannot be a bit disappointed for my fav.

3. Your opinion during the race can be different that the one you have after the race, and two hours later, and two days later, and so on. Your feelings are evolving with the things you see or even just with the way you rethink what you saw. Another concrete example, when the race finished I was so disappointed because for Charles that I couldn’t enjoy the Ferrari win 100%, it changed a few hours after when I rethought it and saw interviews and celebration and it truly made me happy for Ferrari. And it also took me some time to accept that Charles was just less performant than Carlos this weekend and that it was still a super good result both for him and the team.

The last point makes me want to add that, please, you don’t have to hate on another driver to appreciate your fav’s achievements or justify their misfortunes/less good moments.

I’d probably have so many more things to say because even if I enjoy some drama as much as the next girlie some people just make me want to throw things.

[kaiandels]

VballPlayer!Ellie ♡ Cheerleader!Reader (Headcanon)

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

writer’s note: As a vball player, I am writing this as a manifestation. Amen. So I’m posting headcanons for now since i’m a lil bit busy with Uni. But I have 2 smuts that are in my drafts right now so get ready for that 😭

warnings: Mild swearing & sfw/nsfw ver

Not proofread never will

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ sfw *̥˚✧

• Ellie was a volleyball player ever since she was a kid. She has always enjoyed playing the sport and it has always been her form of workout.

• Ellie had first saw you when she was trying out for the varsity team. She almost got hit on the face solely because she couldn’t stop staring at you. With your bright smile while you do your little stomps and jumps warmed her heart.

• Ellie had never missed a practice since. She wanted to see you everyday and she would rather break a limb than miss a day without seeing you.

• It had took her awhile before she had gained the courage to come up and talk to you. It would even get to the point that she would talk to herself, reciting the things she wanted to say but only coming up with-

• “Hi, you’re a cheerleader… right?” Ellie said to you. You looked up at her in confusion, your hands literally gripping your pompoms as you wore the vibrant colors of your school cheerleading uniform.

• After that interaction, you bet that Ellie was screaming her head off in the girl’s varsity locker room.

• When Ellie confessed to you, she wore a white shirt with her school’s varsity jacket uniform. Scratching her head as she finally spoke the words “I like you, Y/N. A lot.”

• After a few months of dating, you would always attend her games/competitions and you would actually be one of the cheer team who would be performing whilst they play the game.

• “ELLIE BE CAREFUL” You screamed at the top of your lungs earning laughs from the other-half of the audience aswell as your girl friends.

• Ellie looking at you before she spikes the ball towards the opponents team giving that “this is for you” look. She only does that look when she knows she can ace the whole round. (She doesn’t want to get embarassed but to be honest.. when has she ever missed?)

• After the game, you always made it a routine to run up in to Ellie’s arms and she always seemed to lift you up with no struggle whatsoever. Ellie also likes to spin you around as she places kisses on to your cheeks. “Congratulations baby.” you mouthed.

• Whenever Ellie’s coach whistles at the team, you run up to her. Passing by her teammates as you bring her water and her towel. Wiping her sweat away for her. “Thank you baby” Ellie smiled as she leaned down to kiss your lips, earning an irritated groan from her teammates and her coach.

• I imagine that you and Ellie would take dates outside, simple but convenient for you both. Either in food stands or just taking a stroll outside. Ellie would definitely bring her ball to teach you how to receive or just serve but you would eventually whine at her and give up.

• “Ellieee please I don’t want to do this anymoree”

• “Y/n… I’m teaching you how to fold your hands… you haven’t even touched the ball yet.”

• Ellie looking at you in awe as she sees you practicing for your cheer. Ellie has always seemed to love it when you spin and jump around. She thinks that you’re so precious. “What are you looking at?” You giggled with a slight huff. “Keep dancing, I think you messed the 1st part up.” Ellie suggested. “Which one of the 1st part? there were many.” you raised your eyebrows as you wait for a response. “Uh.. just the whole 1st part. It was bad… horrible even.”

• “You just wanna see me dance don’t you?” “Heh… yeah…”

✧*̥˚ nsfw *̥˚✧

• Ellie always loved to fuck you in your cheerleading uniform. You always suggested that you both should take the whole thing off but what Ellie just wanted to do was lift your skirt up and take you right then and there.

• I just imagine everytime that when the dances get a little bit flattering, Ellie would poke the inside of her cheek with her tongue, calling you from the other side of the court (since that’s where you both practice) And she would always take you to the shower rooms and fingerfuck you until you’re shaking.

• “Fuck, my pretty little cheerleader so worked up for me huh? Did the splits loosen you up or is it just my cock?”

• You and Ellie almost got caught one time. You were both in the usual spot, the shower rooms. The water was running and her teammates voices could slowly be heard as they entered the shower room. Completely unaware of what’s happening inside. “Ellie! Bro, you here? Did you see what our coach did today? It was a fuckin’ spike error and he still gave the point to them.” Ellie groaned at the comment, her hand covering your mouth as she dug her strap deeper in to you. Your whines muffled. “Yeah, I know he’s a dick. Glad it wasn’t an… oh fuck- Official game though.” Ellie stuttered feeling her strap graze around her clit. “You okay bro?” Her teammates asks. Ellie doesn’t respond as she was focused on getting off, you tapped her hand telling her to respond but she just kept thrusting harder. Making it hard for you to contain your moans. “Fuck yeah…” Ellie moaned, catching the attention of her teammates. “Are you alright there?” Ellie groaned. Completely annoyed at the interaction. Ellie stopped answering as she heard the awkward murmurs of her teammates. It was easy to disregard for her as she was pussy-drunk from you the entire time. You leaned in to Ellie’s ear whispering rather “encouraging” words to her. “Y-you’re so good to me… Ahh fuck.. You fuck me so good. Please fuck my cum back in to me.” You giggled as you heard Ellie mutter curses under her breath.

• Ellie always had this strange thing with PDA… she can’t stop. She would always find a reason to touch your ass or give them a smack. Earning small laughters from her teammates.

• Something tells me that whenever Ellie had a bad game she would always result in to angry sex. “Fuck! Ellie please.. Be gentle. F-fuhuck… Ga- Ellie!” You babbled completely fucked out as Ellie kept pounding in to you. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do. Keep taking this dick and I might just be nice to you.”

• Something also tells me that whenever Ellie had a good game, this time it would be more of a “good job” or “victory” sex. Sounds corny. But feels too good. The praises, the gentleness, the soft kisses, it was completely different from the times when she lost. “You’re so good Ellie…” You moaned as your lips were on top of another, softly grazing but never kissing. You moaned in to her mouth as she softly grinded her hips against yours. “You’re so beautiful…” Ellie whispers, both of your breaths mixing together, creating a rather sensual atmosphere. “You’re doing so good… fuck” you whimpered.

• “Bend over. Let me see what you’re wearing underneath.”

• Ellie was ALWAYS perverted. Even though it was completely evident that it wasn’t her intention, she still fucking is. She would always fuck you after your cheer practices and after that keeps your panties in her pockets, never gave them back to you as she used them every night when she misses you.

• As an athlete, Ellie had an amazing body. And because of that, she would always send pictures of herself. Most preferably mirror shots so you could see everything. Her toned-chest, and the way she manspreads. You can see everything. And it’s fucking delicious.

•

[blessthegulag]

I Hate You, pt. 2

“A problem with authority? Of course I have a problem with authority, I’ll fuck it.”

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the incident, Alejandro confronts you, and you decide what to do with the situation.

Warnings: Smut, p in v, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), light degradation, rough sex, no protection, light angst, bad emotional management, reader kind of has commitment issues?, emotionally unavailable reader, cannon non-compliant (vague, incorrect use of the MW2 plot because I benefit from it ;) ), Spanglish,  swearing, arguments, not proofread!, fucking the power out of the dynamics 

Word count: 6.1k

Notes: This part 2 took the lyrics  ‘Fuck the police’ quite literally. Anyway, it was really hard for me to write this chapter, since I didn’t want to make Alejandro too clingy, yet I still wanted him to be true to his emotions, like any mature person would  (except reader, bc we love an emotionally unavailable woman around here who makes men suffer)

Aaaaand, might, and just might be a part 3, though I’m not very sure.

BY THE WAY, here’s some translations for the Spanish words that appear later on:

-Calentón:  It’s just a way of saying something that happened in the heat of the moment, something not really thought out. 

-Chula: A prideful girl who likes to flaunt herself, who thinks she is interesting and sometimes is self-centered.

-Pasión latina: Latino passion

**Manifesting that this happens to me with the 6.2ft cuban guy I met at my gym, who also happens to have the same vibes as Alejandro 🤞🏻🤞🏻🥴**

Part 1

Several weeks had passed since the incident, and guilt flooded your mind. 

The morning after, the sirens had awoken you, taking you by surprise. You dressed up as quickly as you could, waking Alejandro up in the process. By the point the search party found you, you were sweating and agitated, your cheeks a vibrant shade of pink, still trying to process what the hell happened the night before.

You didn’t know how you two didn’t end up getting caught, knowing that the aftermath of that night was still very present in the car, like a tiger had been locked inside of it. For weeks, you feared that the smell left behind would arise cheeky comments, suspicion within Alejandro’s men. 

But nobody seemed to notice.

You were embarrassed, still. 

For some time, Alejandro didn’t glance your way, and neither did you. No missions assigned, no meetings, no training.

It was as if God had given you a moment of reflection, of peace. 

After that day, you had intentions to stop any sort of relationship with Alejandro. You didn’t even want to keep hating him, you just wanted to forget, to go on with your life as if nothing happened.

However, life had other plans for you.

The dreaded call came, Captain Price’s voice informing you of a new mission. From the tone of his voice, you knew it was important, an emergency. The mission required your specific skills, and you were sure that Alejandro would be there, too.

You had to accept.

Anxiety flooded you. It had you biting the bars of your enclosure, feeling a pit of nerves in your stomach. You were barely able to function, the time until the day of the mission slipping through your fingers, unstoppable.

Then, the day came. 

Upon arriving at the meeting point, you saw Alejandro already present, reviewing maps and discussing strategies with the rest of the team. The moment he saw you, his expression hardened, quickly returning to his task, his eyes fixed on the documents before him. 

The tension between you was palpable, unbearable. You were sure no one noticed, but the way his jaw muscles shifted, told you that he felt the same way. 

Throughout the mission, Alejandro and you remained civil, working together like life long partners. The few words that came out of your mouths were about the mission, about the next course of action. 

If anybody else were to be next to you two at that moment, would surely catch on to the tension. From screaming in each other’s ears, to agreeing in order to avoid interaction. 

What you thought was nothing but a tough, distasteful situation for you two, turned into an even more ugly moment the second Alejandro opened his mouth. 

“Escuchame, güera, (Listen to me, güera)” he began, his voice low, professional. He was using his Coronel voice, distancing himself from you. “We both know something happened between us. You can ignore me all you want, but that won’t change what we did.”

You side eyed him, the grip on your Glock tightening. “Is this really the moment, Alejandro?”

Alejandro’s expression darkened, his features set in a tight frown. “What other moment am I supposed to do it, with you avoiding me like the plague?”

“Maybe you should catch a hint,” you whispered, looking the other way. 

Alejandro clenched his jaw, frustration evident. “You think I haven’t? I get it. You regret it. But ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

You bit your lip, trying to maintain focus on the task at hand. “We have a mission to complete, Alejandro.”

“Go ahead and avoid it,” he scoffed, his voice barely above a whisper. Alejandro’s gaze softened, his eyes searching yours. “But I can’t pretend, not like you.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Alejandro, please. Not now.”

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “No. Listen to me—”

Your heart pounded in your chest, echoing in your ears, deafening you. You turned around, facing him. “No. You listen to me. There’s a mission on the line, so focus.”

He looked at you, dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape. “For how long?” He demanded, his voice a low rumble. “How long are you going to keep running from this?”

“As long as it takes,” you replied, turning away from him. 

And with that, Alejandro remained silent. You could feel him behind you, distant, angry. In any other situation, you would’ve already started screaming at each other. 

But today, nothing happened. 

You had turned down Alejandro in the way that hurt most, disregarding what he wanted to say. He took that personally, playing your own game, ignoring you in the same way that you had done with him. 

The rest of the mission passed in a haze, Alejandro’s words echoing in your mind. You felt his presence like a weight on your shoulders, the regret of your harsh words gnawing at you tormenting you.

It drove you insane. 

Back at the base, days turned into weeks. The tension lingered, thick, suffocating. Your tasks went on with robotic efficiency, losing track of your surroundings. You tried detaching yourself from reality every time you two crossed paths, but the hurt in his eyes weighed on your conscience. 

Alejandro didn’t make it easy. He was everywhere— leading training sessions, briefing the team, conducting inspections. His voice was a constant in your daily routine, each command a bitter, sickening reminder of what you had done.

Of course, you remained distant, strictly professional, but every interaction, every glance left you feeling more hollow. You needed to put an end to this, but you were too prideful for that, too scared to face the reality of the situation, of Alejandro’s true feelings. 

You were not ready to confront him, listen to him and expect to stay strong. 

There were only two ways in which it could end, and you wanted neither. You were tired of the yelling, of the anger; you wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, for your own sanity.

Late night workouts became your best friend. It helped you ease your mind, forget your worries. Some music on your headphones, the low light of the base’s gym keeping you from looking too much at yourself.  You pounded the punching bag, lifted weights, ran on the treadmill— anything to exhaust your body and drown out the storm in your mind.

One night, you decided to make your way to the training room, making sure that the base was already asleep. You grabbed some disks, placing them on the bench press, ready to start lifting. 

As you laid on the bench, staring up at the ceiling, you let the music in your headphones drown out the silence. You lifted the bar, feeling the strain in your muscles, the burn on your chest grounding you.

The door to the gym creaked open, but you didn't notice. It wasn't until you saw a shadow move across the ceiling that you realized you were no longer alone. You glanced up, your heart skipping a beat when you saw Alejandro standing there, watching you. 

He had that look in his eyes again, a mixture of melancholy, and deep vulnerability. 

You set the bar back on the rack and sat up, pulling out your headphones. “What?”

Alejandro didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood there, his gaze intense and unwavering. The silence stretched between you, thick, nerve-wracking.

Finally, he broke the silence. “We need to talk.”

You sighed, lifting your brows. “We’ve been over this, Alejandro. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, chula,” he said, stepping closer, still comfortably far from you. 

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the bench. "It was a thing of the moment, Alejandro. Nothing more."

“A thing of the moment?” he repeated back, his voice laced with an edge of annoyance. “Es así de verdad como lo ves?”

Is that really how you see it?

His gaze searched your face, defiant, vulnerable, still wary.

“What do you want me to feel, Alejandro?” you said, your tone honest, tired. “What do you expect of me?”

The genuine note in your question caught Alejandro off guard, momentarily silencing any response he had ready. He took a deep breath, his gaze softening slightly. "I don’t know what I want you to feel," he admitted, his voice low and serious. "But I know that there was something real between us at that moment. And I don’t believe you can just dismiss that as a 'thing of the moment' or pretend it didn’t happen."

“Mira, Alejandro,” (Look, Alejandro) you said, exasperated, scared, the tornado of emotions in you making you feel dizzy. “Fue un calentón, y ya. It happened, but that doesn't mean that things have to change.” (It was in the heat of the moment,)

Alejandro let out a tense huff at your casual attitude, a hint of frustration in his tone.

"Un calentón, huh?" he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "Is that what you want to call it?”

You nodded plainly, tired of the constant conflict between you two. “Yeah, that’s what it was.”

Alejandro’s jaw tightened, the muscles working under his skin. “So that’s it, then? We just go back to pretending nothing happened?”

You met his gaze, unwavering. “Yes. For both of our sakes, it’s better this way.”

His eyes flashed with hurt and anger, a mixture of emotions he couldn’t quite conceal. “Lying to yourself won’t solve anything.”

You looked at him, vulnerable, done. “I know.”

You saw Alejandro’s eyes falter for a moment, his jaw tightening. His eyes searched yours one last time, looking for something, anything that might give him hope. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him. He took a deep breath, his gaze hardening as he pulled himself together.

Without another word, he turned slowly, resignation in each of his steps.

The soft click of the door echoed in the empty room, the magnitude of your confession hitting you.  Your heart pounded in your chest, the situation having you on edge. The conversation replayed in your mind, each word a dagger to your pride, to your own feelings. 

You wanted to reach out, to run after him, to take back the words that had pushed him away. But fear kept you rooted in place, unable to move, unable to change what had been said.

You had messed up. 

—————

Days after, you found yourself exactly where you wanted to avoid. It had taken you hours of self-convicting, of self-restraint, and at first it worked. The days after the conversation in the gym, anger blinded you. You didn’t want to speak to him, you just wanted to forget, to move those thoughts away. You thought that, because your stay in Mexico was temporary, that you would be able to power through the situation. 

But you were wrong. 

It had taken a toll on your performance, and as a consequence, on the team. There had already been warnings on Price’s part, and you knew that another would mean game over. Due to that, too, your mental state deteriorated greatly. Eating was hard, training was hard, you didn’t want to speak to people. Everyone knew something was going on with you, but weren’t able to understand what happened. 

Alejandro, on the other hand, carried himself with more grace. His duties were much more important than heartbreak —or whatever this situation happening led to—, which meant that it was an escape. He had remained professional, focused, as effective as he had always been.

Seeing him like that boiled your blood. 

You needed to speak to him, to apologize, but it appeared that was doing just fine without you. And it was to expect, taking in account what you said about what happened. 

You had turned him down, essentially. 

And in that situation, it was him the one supposed to be suffering. But it wasn’t like that. 

He was fine, and you were not. 

It was all your fault for lying to yourself, for disrespecting his feelings like that.

But, what were you supposed to do? 

Involving yourself with a colonel while being a staff sergeant, in an extra-official mission for the 141, after ending up stranded in God knows where. Hell, that was like being the mayor of a small town, and involving yourself with the minister of defense; with the president, even. 

And worst of all, that said colonel had no fear nor doubt about what he was feeling. 

That’s what you call ‘pasión latina’.

But you, as (in the words of Alejandro) a güerita from Colorado, weren’t used to such insinuations. 

Facing a man like Alejandro wasn’t easy, and you wanted to believe that any woman would be intimidated by him. He was imposing, self-assured, proactive, dominant, there was no way in the world that you would face him.

Or so you thought. 

The door of his office was closed, but from the noise inside, you knew he was there. You didn’t want to do it, you weren’t ready; hell, you could wait and escape to the US in no time. 

But you had to. You knocked on the door a couple times, then waited.

Your heart pounded in your chest, echoing in your ears. Part of you hoped that he wouldn’t answer, that he’d ignore you so you’d have an excuse to get away, to avoid confrontation. But deep down, you knew you had no choice.

“Come in,” Alejandro said from the inside. 

You made your way into the room silent like a cat, your steps calculated. 

He wasn’t expecting you, you could tell by the way his eyes opened, by how he looked like a deer in front of headlights. Of course, his demeanor soon changed back to a mask of professionalism, looking at you just like he did when you arrived in Mexico: like a stranger.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice firm. 

You took a deep breath, closing the door behind you. “We need to talk.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “About what?”

Your intentions at first were to be more empathetic, more willing to listen, less reactive. But just like every time, Alejandro had a way of pushing your buttons like no other. 

“You know exactly about what,” you said, your back still pressed against the door. 

Alejandro's eyes hardened, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features. "If this is about the gym, there's nothing more to say. You made your feelings clear."

You inhaled, trembling.

“I was scared,” you admitted, as honest as you could. “ I thought I had it all under control, I thought I would be able to ignore it until I left Mexico, but I can’t… It’s— It’s affecting everything, my performance, the team, my sanity.”

The silence in the room was deafening, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Alejandro stood up, moving to the window, looking out the base.

“You think you can come in here and say that?” he finally said, avoiding you. “You think admitting it now changes anything?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “But I can’t keep going like this.”

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, you saw weakness, a moment of pondering. But of course, he shut himself back up. “And what do you expect me to do? You made a point to say that it was in the heat of the moment.”

You felt as if you had been punched in the throat. “I don't know, Alejandro. I— I was not being honest with myself. You said it, I knew it, I just… I panicked, okay?”

He took a deep breath, walking over to you, still keeping his distance. “You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “No puedes agarrar y alejarme para luego volver cuando te parece. Esto no es un juego, Y/N. No puedes jugar conmigo así.”

You can’t go ahead and distance yourself from me and then come back when you want. This is not a game, Y/N. You can’t play with me like this.

“What do I need to do to show that I’m not playing games? Do you want me to kiss you? To leave everything behind and stay in Mexico for you? What did you want from me in the first place?”  you blurted out, desperate. “You've hated me ever since I arrived.”

“I never said I hated you,” he said.

“You acted like it,” you said, the heat in your voice making it difficult to remain calm.

“Because you have a problem with authority,” he barked in front of you, barely leaving space for you to stand.

“Of course I have a problem with authority,” you admitted, the intensity in your eyes burning holes in Alejandro. “But you fed it. This goes both ways.”

“Feeding it?” he scoffed. “It’s called discipline.”

“What discipline?,” you laughed in surprise, getting in his face, arrogant. “Is kissing your subordinate a known form of discipline?”

Silence set between you. Alejandro pressed his jaw, fidgeting with his fingers. You stood there, frozen, looking at him, waiting. 

“No quiero escuchar una queja tuya nunca más,” he said, authoritative, his voice barely a whisper. 

I don’t want to hear a complaint from you anymore.

He grabbed your neck, pinning you against the door in a harsh movement. He squeezed it, cutting blood flow for a couple seconds. You felt light headed, your mouth opened due to the euphoric sensation. Alejandro looked at you, angered, intense.  

You felt weak at the knees, lost, needy of him.

Then, his lips crashed against yours. You felt his coarse beard on your skin, his sweet, earthy cologne overtaking your senses. His touch burnt, leaving a scorching, tingling sensation there where it landed. 

His kiss was raw, primal, hungry. His free hand grabbed your waist, pulling you towards him, desperate to feel you. You moaned in his mouth, trapped, weak. You wanted to scream. You needed him. 

He locked the door. Goosebumps ran through your body, the implications of his actions sending waves directly to your core. 

Alejandro took you with him, manhandling you to the desk. He sat you on top, kissing your mouth, your neck, the exposed part of your chest, everywhere he could. 

You moaned his name, breathy, barely a whimper. It was overwhelming, your head spinning in circles as every kiss, every bite ignited fire within you. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your back against the cold wood of his desk grounding you. 

Then, his hands slid under your T-shirt. They caressed your sides for a second, before he brought his hands up your chest, your T-shirt following behind. Soon, you felt the cold air on your bare breasts, the fabric bunched up on top of them, leaving the perfect view for Alejandro. 

His hands caressed your skin, his fingers dancing lightly on your chest. You could feel his eyes on you, taking in the view. His touch was soft, greedy, insatiable, squeezing your breasts lightly, grazing over your nipples so he could hear your breathy moans. 

Your belt went next. Then your boots. 

The fabric of your pants and panties hit the floor with a soft thud, resonating in the overall silent room. Alejandro had you under his control, perfectly fixed in his desk, surrounded by his belongings. Your cheeks were red, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

It took everything it had in him not to cum right then and there. 

With one hand, he lifted one of your legs up to your shoulder, exposing your glistening pussy to him. 

He swallowed, mesmerized, taking a couple seconds to appreciate what he was seeing.

Then, barely able to breathe, Alejandro took a couple fingers,  sliding them through your wet lips. He passed them agonizingly slow, savoring the way your body reacted to him, how you looked desperate, needy, ready. 

“Eh, chula,” he whispered, his fingers making small circles on your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Mírame.”

Eh, chula. Look at me.

You looked at him, lost in pleasure, already fucked out. The sight of him had you clenching around nothing, trying to buck your hips up for more pressure. He looked breathtaking, absolutely mesmerizing: messy hair, trimmed beard, reddened lips from biting them so much. 

You needed him.

You could see the desire burning within him, the need that matched your own. Your hands continued to tease, to tempt, bringing you to the edge, then pulling back. It had you moaning, crying, pleading with him to let you cum, but he would not give in. It was torture, the worst yet sweetest kind, the one that had you melting in front of him, urging you to do whatever it took to reach your release. 

When he stopped giving attention to your clit, your mouth opened to complain. You were sweating, horny as fuck, completely broken down because of him. Not even a gasp could come out of your mouth when you felt his fingers pressing against your entrance, sinking in, getting pulled in by your greedy pussy. 

You mewled at the sensation, clenching around his thick, rough fingers, savoring every second of it. His fingers pumped in and out of you, the smell of sex already flooding the room, the sticky, lewd noises of your pussy so loud, that you were sure any passerby could hear. 

Alejandro’s hand left the underside of your knees, bringing you back to reality for a second. You saw a glimpse of his face lower towards you, him kneeling to the ground. 

For a second, you were confused, empty; but the moment his tongue made contact with your clit, every feeling  except pleasure escaped your mind. The sensation was electric, sending waves of warmth through your body. 

Alejandro had a way of taking over your mind, of clearing any doubt, any fear. With him on your pussy, licking every drop of your juices, abusing your clit with his tongue, it was impossible for you to hate him. The way he was making you feel had you in a cloud, at his disposal, seriously considering if staying in Mexico just for this was a good enough excuse.

Of course it was.

If it meant getting this treatment, you'd stay in a heartbeat; if disciplinary action was to be taken like this, you'd be in his office more than in your own barracks.

You'd fight your way into his bedroom.

Alejandro’s fingers curled inside you, while his tongue worked on your clit, making you squirm, gasp and moan his name, grabbing his coarse dark hair, pressing his face against you. The room filled with your sweet, pretty moans and the wet, more than obscene thrusting of his fingers inside your pussy. 

He grabbed your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark, spreading you even more open. 

You squeezed the muscles in your pelvis, feeling your orgasm bunch up, sending the nerves in your body into overload. You started panting, whispering his name, using his face as your own personal toy, your whole being so tense, that it took you a while to realize. 

Your orgasm crashed over you. The tension dissipated in a second, making you melt against his desk, moaning in pure ecstasy. 

Alejandro didn’t stop, his movements becoming more deliberate, his fingers slowing but deepening, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure from your body. You felt the aftershocks, your muscles contracting around his fingers as he eased you down from your high.

When he finally withdrew, you felt empty, unsatisfied. 

You needed more. 

He stood, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you. He then took his fingers in his mouth, cleaning your arousal off of them. 

Your mouth opened at the sight, your breathy whimpers catching his attention. 

“Venga, güerita,” he said, grabbing you by the back of your neck. “De rodillas.”

C’mon, güerita. On your knees.

His tone came out as teasing, authoritative. You complied, sliding off the desk, your knees on the cold wood, your hands on his thighs, ready, impatient. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide and eager, the anticipation building in your chest. Alejandro’s gaze was intense, his eyes dark, filled with a primal desire that made your heart race. Alejandro undid his belt, the sound of nylon slipping through the loops of his combat pants echoing in the room. You licked your lips, your mouth watering at the thought of him.

Alejandro's hand brushed your cheek, his thumb tracing your lips before pushing into your mouth. You sucked on it eagerly, savoring the taste of him, the salty tang of his skin. He watched you, his eyes dark with lust, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“Abre,” (open) he ordered, and you obeyed, parting your lips, ready for him. He withdrew his thumb from your mouth, bunching up your hair, using his hand as a tie, to then guide you directly to the head of his cock, pressing it against your tongue. You moaned at the roughness, wrapping your swollen lips around him, taking him slowly. 

He groaned, the grip on your hair tightening. You could feel the heat of his arousal, the way he throbbed in your mouth; it only fuelled your desire. You took him deeper, ready to please him, to make him lose control. 

Alejandro groaned, pushing himself further into your mouth, pressing into your throat. Tears bunched up in your eyes, taking every inch of him, your nose brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, addicting; you were loving every second of it.

Alejandro's groans fueled your desire, each one reverberating through you, making you feel useful, submissive. You moved your head, sucking him deeper, feeling his cock throb against your tongue. His hand on your head guided your movements, his other hand gripping the edge of the desk for support.

He hissed through his teeth, the sound raw and primal, spurring you on. You could feel him twitching, his body tense with need, and you knew he was close.

“Just like that, mi amor,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Don’t stop.”

His words were a command and a plea, and you had no intention of stopping. You bobbed your head, taking him deep, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your face, your breath coming in short gasps around his cock, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was him, his pleasure, the way he was losing control because of you.

Alejandro’s grip on your hair tightened, pulling you closer, his thrusts becoming more urgent. You gagged slightly, but the discomfort only added to the intensity of the moment. You moaned around him, the vibrations making him groan louder, his hips bucking against your face. 

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was trembling, his control slipping away.

With a final, desperate thrust, he came, his hot release filling your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, the way he shuddered with each spasm of pleasure.

Alejandro pulled out of your mouth, his breathing ragged, his eyes glazed with satisfaction. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes still wet with tears, and saw the pride in his gaze.

He reached down, pulling you to your feet, his hands roaming your body, feeling every curve, every inch of your skin. 

Then, he kissed you.

His kiss was ravenous, claiming you with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you against him, your bodies melding together. The taste of him lingered in your mouth, mingling with the sweet intensity of the kiss. You felt his erection, still hard and pressing against your stomach.

You had to be dreaming.

Alejandro broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of kisses in their wake. He bit gently at your skin, sucking lightly, guiding you back to the desk. 

He took you in his arms, placing your ass on the desk, a hand on your chest making you lower your back against the wood. He took off his shirt, the sight of his bare torso having you salivating. 

You were spread wide open waiting for him, taking in the sight of him. He swallowed thick, his mouth parted, a predatory gleam in his eyes. 

Then, he aligned his cock with your entrance. And slowly but surely made his way into you, painfully calm, loving the way in which you tried taking him faster than he wanted. 

Your whole body shuddered, a breathy moan escaping both your mouths. Feeling him balls deep inside you had you losing your mind, drunk off the sensation. You two barely moved for a couple seconds, looking into your eyes, realizing what you were doing.

Before moving, Alejandro grabbed your thighs, folding you in half, your knees against your shoulders, his body weight on you, pinning you into submission. His presence was overwhelming, intimidating, and utterly intoxicating.

Once he started moving, a knot formed in your throat. It was slow and deliberate at first, each thrust calculated to make you feel every inch. Your body responded instantly, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him deeper. 

The way he filled you was too much, splitting you so good that it had you gasping for air. 

Alejandro's slow, deliberate thrusts made you see stars. Each movement was precise, hitting every sensitive spot within you, making your body respond with uncontrollable shivers. You were completely at his mercy, folded in half, making you feel small and vulnerable under him.

He watched you intently, his dark eyes burning with a primal hunger. The way he moved was almost torturous, dragging out every sensation, every gasp, every moan. Your nails dug into the wood of the desk, your body tense to withstand his intense, deep thrusts.

He had you moaning his name, gasping, whimpering. The sounds that were coming out of your mouth were so sinful, so obscene, that even the devil would catch himself blushing. His dick plowed into you, Alejandro admiring the way you frowned in pleasure, how you couldn’t shut up, all because of him.

“Lower your voice, güerita,”  he said with a smirk, the sound of skin slapping against skin, his thrusts plain up brute. “No quieras hacer que sepan a quien te estas cogiendo.”

You don’t want to let everyone know who you’re fucking.

The words barely registered when you felt his hand on the back of your head, grabbing a bunch of hair, pulling you to face the place where you two connected. Your free leg fell to rest on his shoulder, his grip on you harsh, dominant, forcing you to see how he drilled into you.

The sight was overwhelming. Watching his cock disappear inside you, over and over, slick with your arousal, had you on the brink of losing control. Alejandro's grip on your hair tightened, his other hand pressing your thigh against your chest, keeping you in place, dominating you completely.

The desk creaked under your combined weight, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing in the small room. Your breaths were ragged, each thrust sending a new wave of pleasure coursing through your body. Alejandro's pace quickened, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. 

Alejandro’s eyes were locked onto yours, possessive. Every thrust, every touch, every word he spoke was designed to drive you wild, to break down every barrier you had left.

Your mind was consumed by him, by the raw power and desire radiating from his every movement. You were his fuckdoll, surrendering to the primal urge that pulsed between you. 

The desk beneath you groaned in protest, barely holding on as you fucked like animals. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest, the world narrowing down to just the two of you, lost in a haze of lust and need. Alejandro's thrusts were relentless, each one driving you deeper into a state of ecstasy. You felt like you were transcending your body, your whole being aching with pleasure.

He growled, a primal sound that sent shivers down your spine, his grip on you tightening as he neared his own release. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his movements became more urgent, more desperate.

The way he said your name, how the Spanish came out of his mouth like a prayer, had you in a haze, desperate, hungry. You wanted him inside you, rutting into you forever. 

Alejandro’s thrusts became erratic, silkier, smoother. He pulled your face harder into your chest, your only view your two bodies. You watched as his body tensed, heard how he moaned; his cock pulsing as pumped one last time into you, coating your insides with his cum, filling up to the brim. 

You cried out in ecstasy, his thick cock still twitching inside of you, your body destroyed, sweaty, sprinkled with goosebumps. 

For a moment, you were suspended in time, lost in the intensity of the moment. As the waves of pleasure began to become weaker, you collapsed against the desk, used, satisfied.

Then, you realized. A wave of guilt ran through you, the position you were in embarrassing you deeply. 

You had fucked Alejandro, again. 

He looked at you with caution, your expression not helping him be at ease. You dragged your T-shirt back on, the fabric damp and wrinkly, the coldness of the room bringing you back to reality. 

What had you done? 

You were out of your mind. 

The realization hit you hard, the after-sex clarity giving away the blend of guilt and confusion. Alejandro, still catching his breath, watched you carefully. The intensity of what had just happened lingered in the air, heavy, undeniable. 

You pulled away from him, quickly going to look for your clothes in a futile attempt to cover how vulnerable you felt.  Alejandro’s eyes followed your movements with concern, unable to figure out what was going on in your head. 

You stood there, your heart racing, trying to make sense of the situation. The silence between you was palpable, and Alejandro’s presence made it even more intense. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Guilt and shame were weighing heavily on your heart, and you felt yourself struggling to stay composed. With each passing second, it felt like the walls were closing in, the reality of what you had done becoming all too real.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his pants already buttoned, his shirt on his hand. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed thick, turning to face him like a lost puppy. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m great.”

He took a step towards you, closing the distance between you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what was going through your mind. “Hey, talk to me, please.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “It’s… This wasn’t meant to happen. I didn’t come in here for this.” 

Alejandro’s eyes narrowed slightly, confusion evident on his face. 

“I’ve realized that I don’t want this, whatever it is.”

“Then, what?” he said, desperate. 

“I need to go,” you blurted out, turning on your feet.

But before you could walk away, Alejandro’s hand grabbed your shoulder softly, barely a graze as to not startle you. 

“Wait,” he started. “Don’t go.”

His voice came out as a whisper, low and defeated. 

You turned to face him, your breath hitched in your throat. 

“I didn’t do this as a punishment, or in the heat of the moment,” he said, his eyes digging into yours. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

You froze in place, his hand on you the only thing keeping you from losing touch with reality. 

“Quédate aquí, güerita, únete a Los Vaqueros.”

Stay here, güerita, join Los Vaqueros.

“I’m part of the US Army, Alejandro,” you smiled humorlessly. “I can’t.”

“Things could be arranged.”

“My war is not here,” you said plainly. “I’ve got responsibilities.”

He nodded to himself, pressing his lips into a small line. 

Then, he looked at you, taking in every feature of yours. 

His eyes were dark, glistening with something you couldn’t quite recognize. Maybe it was sadness, maybe it was disappointment, you weren’t sure.  

“Is this how it ends?” he said. 

You looked at him, hurt.

“I can’t see a different outcome,” you whispered. 

He nodded, his jaw pressed shut. 

The room fell silent. 

You were scared. 

He was disappointed. 

But it was how things were meant to be. 

It was the end, even if you didn’t want it to be like that.

—————

A/N: God, I’m so sorry for those of you who don’t know Spanish, but this fanfic is SO much hotter without the translations. Also, seriously thinking about making a part 3, buuuut… not sure. On one hand I need more of Alejandro, but idk how to develop a relationship that started out as sexual, lmao

[liillyliilly]

Can Not Sleep

matsukawa issei x reader words; 4263 synopsis; red string of fate AU with insomniac matsukawa

The utter horror of that red string appearing, and three years too early at that. Biologically, something must have been going on with her. Because she was only a third year in high school, she was only 18. When she stared at it just a little too long she supposed that this was the world telling her she was screwed.

And imagine her surprise at who she was linked to, her soul was interwoven with Matsukawa Issei’s. The same idiot she had a bet with to see who could kiss more people by the end of the year. They had known each other for most of high school, but they never ran in similar circles, there was just enough overlap in friends to cause them to mess around and make silly bets.

The horror at being tied to him was understated by her close friends who said at least he was hot. Sure he was hot, she’d give him that, but he was also extremely intimidating. Everyone said he had an easy-going nature, and that was true, but he also scared the living daylights out of her. No one could be that chill with everything that went on in the world, he must have been some kind of mutant to ignore the terribleness and to keep living each day to its fullest.

She deduces since neither of them talks about the string, life can continue as normal. She assumed the bet was still on, so she went to her current rotation of guys, trying to seal the deal with three of them that week at various locations throughout the school. She was not going to let eighteen thousand yen disappear that quickly from her reach.

He deduces that since neither of them talks about the string, that life is not continuing as normal. He assumed the bet was entirely off.

This is why he got a very infuriating chill when he saw his soulmate kissing someone from the debate team under the stairs on his way to English class. She pats the debater on the shoulder, telling him to get to class. When he goes in for one more kiss, Matsukawa pulls him back by the hood of his jacket, telling him to essentially get his ass in gear with one look in Matsukawa’s eyes.

“So we’re not going to talk about this,” He waves his pinkie in the air. The red string that usually remained invisible appeared visually to the pair of them, connecting his right hand to her left hand. “And you’re just going to keep kissing half the boys in school?”

“I’m at 35 boys now, thank you very much.” She cringed the moment she saw his face tighten in discomfort. She knew that he had capped out at 20 girls and had given up when the string appeared. She hadn’t heard it from him of course, she heard it from Iwaizumi who told her she needed to talk to Matsukawa because he was losing it slowly but surely day by day.

“I thought we could wait a few more years until we discussed,” She held her pinkie up in turn, “This.”

“Years? I was thinking something along a timeline of months.” He rubbed his eyes with his right hand, the string inevitably pulling her closer to him, she had to push against his chest to put some space between the two of them.

“Months? We’re still in high school mind you.” Her pinkie started to hurt, but she ignored it because she needed to set him straight about the expectations for this whole soulmate ordeal.

Matsukawa started citing all the things they were told in elementary school, she wanted to just roll her eyes. They were an exception to the rules, the whole legally registering, the whole getting a red circle tattooed around their pinkie finger to signify the bond they had, they had to be an exception because of their age.

They kept arguing, not realizing that their red string had begun to circle them, tying them up. Too busy with getting the argumentative edge to remember the other things about red strings, that they had a mind of their own. Or at least, the string’s mind was a manifestation of subconscious and conscious thoughts both soulmates had.

She went to walk away, only to realize that Matsukawa’s side of the red string, being a much darker red, had looped around her legs, her thighs, and her torso, and was keeping her from getting away from him.

He realized his fault in tying the two of them together, and for a moment he did look apologetic. So he offered words as a condolence, “You’re pretty.”

“I know.”

“And humble too.” His part of the string just looped around their waists again, meaning they’d be stuck for another thirty minutes or so. A teacher passed by and just giggled a little before guiding the pair to the nurse’s office to wait out the string.

It was shocking to realize that he never slept. Which meant that she began to never sleep.

The first time she realized he stayed up way too late was a few weeks after Matsukawa had let his side of the string go wild, resulting in the principal just telling the two of them to keep the whole red string thing to a minimum at school.

She was snoring, happily too, when her left hand began to move up and down from under the pillow. At first, she thought maybe it was just a dream, and she tried to go back to sleep. But then her hand would not stop the vertical motions, repeatedly. She called him in a fury.

“Get me out of your mind when you’re doing things like that at night!”

“I can’t help it! Biologically you’re literally that for me.”

She groaned and told him to take a cold shower so she could sleep. He had obliged that time. All the other times she just texted him and told him to make it quick, she also made it part of the routine to just scream into her pillow to release the anger at having part of her body being physically pulled by him.

Having the mental connection of thinking about your soulmate linked to physical actions was going to kill her. This was why the red string usually appeared when they were 21, because at least people had the common decency to not use their soulmates to get off in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t always him doing sexual acts either, sometimes he would just tap. Late at night, he would tap his fingers against his mattress, thinking about her. She didn’t mind that one as much as the other stuff he would do at night. She thought that the tapping was sort of sweet, in an annoying nuisance way. There would be some kind of pattern sometimes, but she could never tell distinctively what the pattern was.

Other times, she would just lay awake at night because the red string was doing its little heartbeat thing, where you could feel the heartbeat of your soulmate, but it was especially prominent when they were thinking about their soulmate. Matsukawa’s heartbeat was almost always extremely tangible for her.

She still hadn’t wanted to talk to him about the whole thing, just considering it one of those silly little things she had to deal with. But that was one of Matsukawa’s breaking points, the silence. He could do the waiting as long as she liked, but the silence was killing him. So much so that he had actively utilized her annoyance with the string’s mental-physical connection to tug so frequently one day that she would have to talk to him since no phones were allowed during the school day.

Peeking her head into his classroom, she was relieved to see it was just him in there, the rest of his classmates had gone out to buy lunches and such. He sat at his desk, moving his pinkie by hitting a volleyball in the air with both his hands.

He saw her when the door she was using to peek through had begun to slide and creak. She fell face-first to the ground when the door slid out of control, he laughed and told her to come over. Grabbing a chair, she sat across from him on the other side of the desk. He stopped tugging on the string when she finally sat down.

It was silent for a moment, they avoided each other’s eyes.

He cracks first.

“Talk to me.” He pleads. He reaches out and grabs her hand with his.

“Okay.” She bites her lip, “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. But lemme say something first real quick, we used to be friends. Good friends I would say, but since this occurred it’s like you treat me as invisible. Like I’m not there. I can understand you wanting your time and stuff to process, like yeah this is a huge change to our lives. But I need you to realize you aren’t the only one dealing with this. I’m here too. I’m the one at the end of your string.”

She feels like crying because he sounds like he wants to cry.

“I’m not ready?”

“To treat me like a person?”

“I’m not ready to treat you like a soulmate. And all that goes on with that. I hate needles.” A flashing image of the needle that will inevitably trace around her pinkie is enough to get her to cringe.

“I know you hate needles. You told me about that first year.” Matsukawa leaned back in his chair, looking outside for a moment. “We, we can put a pause to the soulmate thing. At least for this year. But I want us to be friends again, back to normal.”

She smiles, rubbing his arm with her hand gently, “I want that too.”

Matsukawa did not enjoy being just friends. Not when his entire world had shifted. He had his person right there and she didn’t want to be anything more than friends. Suddenly everything she did was driving him crazy, and he still hadn’t even kissed her yet. Maybe it was his fault for expressing his impatience just a little too loudly during a passing period, because what the hell?

Her picture was pasted all over the walls, with the text: SOULMATE HATER almost spray-painted over it. Matsukawa realized that high school may be the worst invention of the modern world, because who decides to put a bunch of horrible undeveloped humans into one building for hours on end and say that that’s good?

She was shocked, to say the least when she got to school and traded out her shoes for her slippers. Her picture was right on her locker, with the most foul accusation. It wasn’t Matsukawa’s doing, he’d never do that. So she reasoned it must have been people sticking their noses into business that wasn’t theirs in the first place. It was crushing, embarrassing, and humiliating. She tried to rip down all the pictures in the entryway, only to see that all the walls had been glued with the poster.

Then she wanted to cry, because there she stood holding crushed paper in her hand, and other students were flooding in, seeing the pictures, and then looking at her, the worst part was that they then began to talk.

Rushing to the bathroom, she didn’t even realize that she brushed past Matsukawa and his friends, who were all trying to rip down as many of the pictures as quickly as possible. Oikawa sees Matsukawa hesitate, then tells him to go after her, Oikawa reassures him that he, Iwaizumi, and Hanamaki could deal with the photos (Oikawa left out saying that he was also going to find the person but then again some things could be implied with a look).

Matsukawa was crushed abysmally worse than when she said that she had just wanted to be friends, because there she was curled up on the floor of the bathroom rubbing her eyes, she wasn't quite crying but her body was shaking. He didn't know what to do, but he didn't want to mess it up.

He crouched down, and put his hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb over her kneecap.

“Hi.” He offers.

“Hey,” She uses her sleeve to rub her nose, “You do know I don't hate you right?”

He didn't believe it was even possible for her to hate anyone, “You don't hate me, you love me. It might not be all the way right now, but you do love me.”

She chuckles, pulling him down to sit with her. On the disgusting floor of the girls’ bathroom, they waited out the first class of the day, just talking. Eventually, Hanamaki texts Mattsukawa that the coast is clear. She doesn’t know what to do so she just shakes his hand and heads to her next class. He’s left stunned at the entrance of the girls’ bathroom.

It was the following weekend, the whole photo disaster had died down due to the band kids accidentally having an orgy on their trip to Tokyo. While disgusting, it made her grateful to have something else be the focus of the school than her red string.

Matsukawa was bored out of his mind, switching through TV channels. Everyone else was busy with makeup work or their families. He looked down at his hand, he moved each finger once. What was she doing? Who was she with? When would he see her again, outside of just school?

He stared at her icon in his phone, the last texts had just been her thanking him for taking down the photos and for sitting with her. He decided now was as good a time as ever.

to y/n (future wife) 🤩⭐✨💌: Do you want to come over?

to matsukawa issei 🧵🍀: Why would I come over?

to y/n (future wife) 🤩⭐✨💌: To hang out?

She was chewing the inside of her mouth. He was cleaning up the living room as quickly as he could because he had a feeling she would be coming over.

to matsukawa issei 🧵🍀: I have Oreos, you better have more snacks at your house

They didn’t expect to have such a good time together. Sitting cross-legged and across from each other on the couch, they were trying to get Oreos from their forehead to their mouths without dropping them and without using their hands. Matsukawa was surprisingly gifted at this game. She had dropped at least three Oreos, but she was having a great time with each new attempt.

“You gotta move your nose less.”

“I can do it without you coaching me!” She started laughing though, so the Oreo fell, and she made a short sound in reaction to dropping her Oreo. Falling back onto the arm of the couch she kicked her feet out and rested them in Matsukawa’s lap since he had turned around and was looking for the remote to the TV.

It was midnight and they were glued onto the movie screen, gradually, throughout the movie, they moved closer and closer until the length of their sides were touching. He was scratching her back lightly, soaking in the light hums she let out appreciatively. When one of the characters in the movie died, she asked a question.

“How many more months until school ends?”

“For break? Or the end of the year?”

“The end of the year.”

“I think like maybe four or five, we’re about halfway done.” He ate another apple slice from the apples that he had cut up and put in a bowl on the side table. She asked for one and he gave it to her.

“Okay, last day of school, we can go for it.”

“Go for it?”

She just lifted up her pinkie, the tiny red string a rich red color, a more vibrant shade than Matsukawa’s deep blood-red hue. The grin in response that he gave was astounding.

When Aoba Johsai lost to Karasuno, the third years were in shambles. It was again late at night, and Matsukawa just couldn’t help but tug on the string, he wondered if she would call him, or if she would text him telling him to stop. His insomnia got the best of him at times like these.

When his brain wouldn’t let him relax into bed and finally stop thinking. He thought of everything he could have done differently in that last game. Everything he could have done differently to make her love him just a little more, or at least for them to get closer sooner.

Then, with one text, he was opening his front door and she was hugging him so tightly he thought that his breathing would never return to normal. When her shoulder was soaked through with his tears, he gave her one of his sweaters to change into. That was probably the reason for the mental-physical connection to the string, he mused, so that when one of them needed each other, they could be there faster than fast.

The days went by, and they hung out more and more frequently. She was getting used to his personality, all sides of it. The goofy, the serious, but most importantly his ability to stay calm. She could be worried, or anxious, and he would just be there in a capacity that she didn’t understand the magnitude of.

One time, when she went on a family trip to Okinawa. And Matsukawa felt so ill that his mom just knew it was from string sickness. He felt like she must have been too far apart and suddenly waves of nausea hit him like a truck. His mom was amazed that her son was the one who got this side effect of the soul connection since she had texted L/N’s mom and asked if she was doing alright. When the result came up perfectly peachy, Matsukawa’s mom just laughed and got her son another glass of ginger ale.

He called her that night too, begging.

“You're intoxicating, I’m actually running a fever, you need to come home early.” Matsukawa wanted her back within a ten-mile range as soon as possible.

“You mean go back to my house?” She was ruffling her brother’s hair and adjusting his swim shirt for the late-night swim he wanted to go on. Rubbing sunscreen on his ears and pinching his cheek when he complained.

Matsukawa hit his head against his pillow and clarified for her, “No, I need you to come home, which is with me. I said what I meant. Keep up.”

She said she would call him again tomorrow. He was still extremely sick until she got back from her trip. And as soon as he was feeling normal again, he came over.

“You’re a terrible listener, I said to come home not go back to your house.” He tugged her hand, waving at her parents through the door. They waved back at him. She jumped a little, leaning to the side, putting on her shoes, and asking him to slow down.

To her surprise, he pushed her back up, so she was standing. He put her shoes on instead, lacing the ties just tight enough to be secure. He patted her thigh on his way to standing up again, using his head to point to his car. When they got to the park, he took her right to the swings. They weren’t swinging, just sitting on the seats and rocking slightly.

“This is for you.” He hands her a small baggie, made of velvet.

“Drugs?”

“Shut up.” He turns his face away from her, waiting for her to open the gift.

Inside the bag was a shiny small silver ring, it was understated, but the metal had been molded so there was a single knot that was meant to face upwards. She handed the ring to him. He froze for a moment before she held her hand out for him, wiggling her ring finger. He just rolled his eyes and put the ring on her.

“Great, it’s like preparation for the real thing.” She inspected the ring on her finger and Matsukawa just chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation.

“I have something for you too.” She kicks the ground a little more, actually swinging a little. “You need to close your eyes though.”

So Matsukawa holds his hand out and tightly shuts his eyes. He did not expect her to put one hand on his, holding it tightly, and then for her other hand to cup the side of his face, but he most definitely did not expect her to press her lips to his. When she goes to separate from him, he just grabs the back of her head and pushes her back to his lips.

He wishes he could go back in time to erase all other kisses from his history, he wanted this to be his first kiss, he wanted this to be the only kiss to ever have graced his senses.

He tugs the string at night. Always at night. Sometimes she just can not sleep because her finger feels the short but rough tugs. She only realizes there’s an actual communicative pattern when her teacher mentions the development of Morse code within the world, and how that completely shifted global communication.

She heads to the library, thinking there was no way that he was doing what would’ve been completely crazy. He was already in the library, in the exact aisle she wanted to go down, so she ducked and hid in the other section until she saw him leaving. She rushed to get to the book she had asked the librarian to help her find. And when she opened it, a note fell out.

Better start learning ;) - Issei <3

What a goof. It is fully believed that she never studied anything even remotely that intensively before this.

His late-night messages range from sweet genuine confessions to things so borderline toe-curling she has to stop transcribing or else her face would get too hot to live with. Most commonly, he’ll just tap out: I love you.

She knew he was an insomniac. But this was driving her crazy, to know he wouldn’t sleep, or more realistically, couldn’t sleep. She starts going over to his house most nights, just hanging out until she goes home to sleep. Matsukawa starts sleeping better and more frequently when she comes around.

“I bet I’d sleep even better if you just stayed over.” Matsukawa was pushing his luck with that one. She went home but came back with a duffel bag around fifteen minutes later.

Brushing their teeth together made her realize that she did love him back. He kept trying to talk but his mouth was full of toothpaste.

“Do you really wear a chain to bed?” She judged the silver accessory he was wearing in combination with his pajamas. He was lying against his headboard, watching her flit around his room, inspecting and assessing his things. He took the necklace off immediately and threw it under his bed.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He blurts out. She sat down on the futon his mom laid out for her. “Yeah, you’re not sleeping on that.” Matsukawa resolves and then pats the spot next to him on his bed.

Maybe having her sleepover wasn’t the best idea, because he just wanted to stay awake talking to her and tracing shapes on her hip. But she was asleep and nuzzling into her pillow by the time he got to the part in his story about Oikawa tripping over a volleyball when he saw that Hanamaki and Iwaizumi were wearing crop tops for a joke at practice. He tucked a hair behind her ear and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into him. He claimed that that was the best night's sleep in his whole life.

His mom also came in around 3 am just to make sure nothing that would cause her to be a grandma prematurely was occurring, and all she saw was her son holding his soulmate like a teddy bear. The pictures of them sleeping were well worth all the years she spent dealing with not only her insomnia but Issei’s as well.

Matsukawa’s mom had sent the photos to Y/N before her son. So when Matsukawa was messing around on Y/N’s phone, he was very pleasantly informed to see the two of them sleeping as her lock screen, and then a photo of their shoes facing each other as her home screen.

When it was time to grow up, say goodbye, and move on, Matsukawa could not have been happier. How could he not when Y/N gladly held his hand in public during all the various graduation activities? Hanamaki joked that he had never seen Matsukawa smile longer than two seconds at max, and now here he was smiling like an idiot because the girl he liked was holding his hand and pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth.

The rest of his life went pretty great. Getting married practically right out of high school (much to her chagrin, but hey, she didn’t say no when he proposed so that’s her fault), working at a funeral home which meant helping people move on and understanding that life continues even when it feels like it shouldn’t, and one of the best parts of being with his soulmate was getting much better sleep.

bonus thought...

might need a man who works in a funeral home after this

https://youtu.be/A77PnWNmeqY?si=5azlWNgcizMS1m39 (for the music lovers who need a late night jam fr fr)

[wisteriagoesvroom]

for the 5 sentence fic game - malex (Max/Alex), forgiveness? if it's not too out of ur depth :3

ok this was such a good prompt that i bust past 5 sentences and just kept going. so…here we go:

————

Forgiveness

a max/alex drabble, rated g

When Max meets Alex again, it’s a crisp autumn day — the kind where the leaves curl in on themselves, as if holding a secret. What secret, Max doesn’t know, but he has never really been in the habit of keeping many secrets.

The park is not where he expects to see Alex. But that’s the thing about parks. They’re a central nervous system for cities. City planners used to design with this in mind, before cars took over. Max remembers this fact from an encyclopaedia that he used to read, under blanket with a torchlight, when he still had the time to, during karting.

And now, Alex is in the park. Alex is older. Hair the same, if longer than it used to be in their F1 days. Face clean-shaven, but sharper in the cut of his jaw. Eyes, still creasing upwards when he sees a thing he likes.

As it turns out, Alex smiled a lot more when he left Red Bull. His smile practically a quantum force of its own when he finally won a GP.

And as it turns out, to his surprise, Max may be one of the things Alex also likes.

“Is that really you?” Alex exclaims, hands tucked in his pockets, wool scarf loose on his neck. Max feels somehow underdressed in his nondescript hoodie. Being a five time world champion, even over a decade later, meant people would stop you for photos.

“It’s me, mate.”

Alex makes a noise that seems like delight. They do the bro hug, and he animatedly explains that Lily is in Shanghai for a project involving augmented reality home golfing that is run through a mobile phone holoprojector. He rambles a little bit about weather — which for some reason the English still are obsessed with — and Alex asks whether Monaco has changed much (Max tells him it hasn’t).

“Are you heading up to Milton Keynes?” Alex says.

There is no loadedness behind the question. Max has only been back to Milton Keynes for Redline work since he retired.

One thing about Alex is that he was always carefully guarded when he needed to be. But Max never found him truly capable of ill intent.

“No,” Mad says. “I’m actually here because Pen has a thing about horses now. I have a break from touring stables and such.”

“Horses! Ah! There’s this great place down by Richmond, the owner’s an old classmate of mine. Let me pass it to you.”

Classic Alex. Always trying to help out, be nice, create a connection. So Max grabs his phone from his pocket, and lets Alex fuss around with it.

So the task is done, and there isn’t much to do now but move on. That is what Max has done well. Move on, in a way that he knows how, eking out a place for himself in Sim driver development and helping others learn the ropes. Much like Alex clearly has too, remaining as advisor to his last team.

Max finds himself reflecting on the younger men they were so long ago. Max was a lot more impulsive then. Quick to anger, a hunger inside him with so much to prove. But every person who did what they did always had the hunger. It just manifested in a lot of different ways.

And the interaction is nearing its end. But Max still can’t quite find a way to make his legs move. Around them, someone occasionally jogs past, and there are some ducks quacking happily at a nearby pond. It is peaceful.

Alex’s phone buzzes. He glances down at it, brows creasing in concern.

“Sorry, there’s some emergency at home involving my five year old and…” Alex squints at his phone. “A muffin tray of glitter. George is always far too lenient with his godson.”

Max smiles. “I heard about that. George, I mean. Not the glitter. I am not psychic.”

“That would explain your super-powered abilities, wouldn’t it?”

“Ha!” Max says, and he means it. “Anyway, I remember exactly how it is. That age.”

Alex smiles back knowingly.

The leaves rustle in the trees. The ducks are still quacking. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud, warming them both.

It is comfortable, in the way Alex always makes people feel, since the Williams years.

Max stops his leg from twitching.

“Listen, Alex. I never got a chance to say it before.”

“Say what?”

“That I…”

And Max finds himself pondering it. What does he mean? That he’s sorry? Sorry that a formula one team only truly ever has enough room for one person? That he should have asked how Alex was, like how he makes a point to do so now, with all his Redline youngsters? That he wishes he had called or texted him in the intervening years to see how he was, that he wishes they had stayed in touch? That he misses his old cars more than anything in the world, even if he’s happy with what he’s done and the way the puzzle pieces of his life have landed, and he always wonders if other drivers did too?

Max swallows a lump in his throat that he didn’t know was there. In the end, he says exactly what is on his mind.

“I’m really glad that you seem well.”

If that’s not the answer Alex was expecting, he doesn’t show it. He always seems borderline spiritual these days. As if he’s discovered a secret and invites you to understand it. A little bit like a monk, but one who definitely drives over the speed limit. (Max saw that video: a special karting one Alex did for family content, and he still carves a magnificent line.)

The monk in question smiles. It’s warm, like the sun. How lucky for those who grow close enough to Alex, to feel it.

And in that sage, still boyish way of his— surrounded by ducks, subjected to the inclement weather, in the artery of the place where worlds meet — Alex tells Max, back:

“I’m glad for us, too.”

————

from prompt thing here except i will actually try to stick to 5 sentences for the next one(s)

[pensat-i-fet]

Celebrity crush (Pablo Gavi x Reader)

**A friend and I were chatting about the RLC calling Laura Woods her celebrity crush during an interview and she wanted me to use that for an imagine. When I asked who she wanted me to write it with, she was like “guess! 🙄”. So here we are 😅 I hope you like this! ❤️**

Word count: 1595

Masterlist

Wattpad

The life of a sports journalist wasn't as glamorous as people thought. And the life of a female sports journalist could be very hard sometimes. But still, you managed to get a presenting job for a big sports program. And after the initial drama of "a girl can't do that", people had accepted you.

Every week you had a different guest you had to interview and the producers came up with the idea of getting fans to ask one of the questions to improve the social media engagement. That week, the engagement had been ridiculous. But you weren't surprised since you were interviewing Gavi, the new golden boy everyone talked about. Most of the questions you got were about his personal life, so those were deleted. But still, your team had a good amount of them to choose from.

You were asked often if there was a footballer that you fancied but never mentioned any because you didn't want to look unprofessional. But Gavi…well, he was definitely nice to look at. You wouldn't deny that. But again, you kept that thought to yourself because admitting it publicly was only going to cause more drama.

"Well, superstition or not, I still worry seeing those undone laces", said Ed, one of the pundits that did the show with you sometimes.

"Ed, we are talking about someone who dives and puts his head near other people's feet, while they are kicking the ball, very often. The laces are the least of our worries", you laughed and when you looked at Gavi, he was blushing. Again.

You hadn't been doing this job for long but knew people were going to talk about how many times he blushed at your words. It was always the same.

"Ok, Gavi, we got some fan questions we would like you to answer. Ready?"

"Sure".

"Pat wants to know who your celebrity crush is", you read, laughing at the question.

Gavi didn't answer straight away so you looked at him and saw him putting his hands on his face.

"You alright? You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable", you offered.

"It's…um…it's you".

"It's me what?"

"My celebrity crush. It's you".

You tried to think of a quick answer but could only blush like he had. Ed, however, had your back.

"I was hoping you would say me. How disappointing".

You tried to laugh at his joke but were still so shocked by the confession. But you had to keep going and somehow managed to finish asking the questions.

"That's it from us today. Thank you Ed as always and thank you Gavi for spending this time with us and…for the ego boost, I guess".

Once the cameras were off, you saw him walking towards your table.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable but the question caught me by surprise and…well, I didn't lie".

You smiled at him, biting your lip. "It's fine. Your answer also caught me by surprise. But it's an honour to be the golden boy's crush. Even if I don't see myself as a celebrity but I'll take it".

"Yeah", he said. And you could tell he wanted to say more.

Come on, do it and I'll say yes.

"I'll see you around. Bye!"

Your manifesting powers failed again. And you felt a bit stupid after the whole ordeal. Also, you could only imagine the drama this might have created on social media. Great.

                                      **

The days after your interview with Gavi had been hell for him. He was made fun of constantly on the team's WhatsApp group and of course, the clip of him saying you were his celebrity crush was everywhere. Twitter, Instagram, the 9pm news…did people have nothing better to talk about?

He was so embarrassed to have done that in front of the cameras. But he didn't lie. He had seen you a while ago at one of the matches and couldn't stop thinking about you for days. He asked Pedri who you were and his friend showed him your Instagram so he could follow you. You were already following him but you followed so many players, he guessed because of your job, that it didn't really mean much.

Gavi had actually planned to ask you out, or something like that, after the interview. But seeing your reaction to his words…he just couldn't do it. He totally misunderstood your nerves as a rejection.

"Your girlfriend is here, Pablito", said Eric when he got in the dressing room.

"My girlfriend…oh. Ok".

The jokes were never going to end.

"If you play really well, she'll interview you. Use that as motivation".

He was right. You always interviewed the two best players of the match, one from each team. So he was surely going to use that as motivation. Even if he didn't need it. Matches against Athletic de Bilbao were always exciting to play.

You were on the side of the pitch, covering the match for one of the TV channels that had the rights to La Liga and were used to getting looks from the players. So you didn't notice Gavi looking at you several times while you spoke to the camera.

While the teams were running back to the tunnel, you looked up to see them and spotted Gavi looking at you. You lifted your hand to wave at him and he did the same, causing you to look down to hide your blush.

The match was going to be decided by very small details and that detail was Gavi managing to trick the defense and the goalkeeper to score the only goal of the match.

His teammates were still congratulating him when the media guy told him he had to do the TV interview. The interview with you. So he went to the area where he knew you would be waiting.

The away team was always interviewed first, so he waited until you were done talking to his Spanish teammate Íñigo Martínez.

"Thank you for talking to us after the defeat, Íñigo".

"Thank you", he said, looking to the side. To where Gavi was. "You are my celebrity crush too, you know? Shame little Gavi beat me to confessing that to you".

Gavi felt furious hearing those words and seeing the smirk on Íñigo's face. But then he saw your face and he was even more furious. Your blush was so obvious that you didn't need to say much more. He might have told you before but it was clear you fancied Íñigo and not him.

Or that's what Gavi thought. Because the reason for your face to go all red was the annoyance you were feeling. What Gavi had said in that interview was just a comment. The way Íñigo had said that, when you didn't ask him at all, made you feel like he didn't respect you as a professional at all. And that pissed you off so much. But you couldn't let it show.

You bent down to pick up your bottle of water, not noticing Gavi was right next to you. And he was trying really hard not to stare at you. Not while cameras were near. Not again.

"Oh, hi. Sorry. I…I needed some water. My colleagues will connect with me in a minute. Sorry to make you wait".

"It's fine", he said. And you noticed his cheerful tone was gone.

"You okay?"

"Yes, let's get the interview done. I want to go back to my teammates".

His words made you frown and feel…sad? But then you remembered that if you had been taunted by the celebrity crush confession, so had he. So maybe he was keeping his distance because of that.

Whatever it was, you forgot about it during the two minutes that it took to interview him. And when he left, so did you. Both of you were going to the tunnel but Gavi walked a couple of feet in front of you.

"Hey. I was wondering if we could…".

You turned when you heard Íñigo's words and if looks could kill, the Basque player would have been dead by now.

"What did you wonder? If you could embarrass me again while I do my job?"

Your words made Gavi turn. You looked so angry and…that was how you looked before his interview so he had totally misread your reaction. Again.

"I didn't try…".

"I don't care, Martínez. There are so many like you who just see me as a joke. But I'm a professional just like you and deserve the respect. So do that again if you dare".

His teammates tried not to chuckle until you were gone, afraid of you screaming at them too. But Gavi didn't stay to see what they did next. He followed you and called your name.

"What?", you turned, annoyed. But when you saw it was Gavi that was calling you, your expression softened.

"I wanted to ask if you were ok".

"Yeah", you said, looking away so he couldn't see you were about to cry.

"I'm sorry if what I said is causing you problems. I should have just said someone else. I didn't think…".

"It's not your fault".

"Can I…", he hesitated. "Can I give you a hug? You look like you need one".

You nodded, because you really could use the comfort he was offering.

Gavi hugged you and you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.

"Thank you, Gavi".

"No need to thank me. Sorry I'm sweaty", he said, making you laugh.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure".

"You are my celebrity crush too".

[sunshine-on-marz]

Hey hi! I have thoughts and I don't know how to put them into a fic so here I am.

Okay so imagine you're dating dream and living with dream team and like usually you can put all the rumors aside and kinda laugh about all the dnf stuff because like, you're dating dream (btw none of his fans know about you) . But like what if one day you're getting really down about it, not because you think it's true, but because like it's frustrating, and it manifests and you're being kinda cold and stuff to both dream and George even though like it's not THEIR fault. And dream can tell somethings wrong but you just say "nothing". And then you end up confiding in sapnap because he's kinda feeling the same frustrations because these are his two best friends and people are always talking about it and when there all out people focus on the two of them. And then like maybe dream overhears and comforts you about it? Idk, relationship reveal? Idk what I want from this.

(Also a dnf fan so like)

I’ve been going insane over people on Twitter saying “paranoid” and “kind of love” are about a secret partner bc of exactly this. Like… if it is… that poor partner- (written on august 20th, just incase any updates come out before this posts and I look dumb)

But I’m also a big DNF fan/ Dnn fan so-

Anyways here’s some Dream comfort headcanons!

———

-“oh love..”

-he pulls you into his lap and lets you cuddle into him

-“I love you so much, and only you. You’re so perfect, I’d be stupid to let some internet ship ruin that”

-kisses your temple and cheek and face

- “why don’t we tell everyone about you? Yea? Then we can shut all of this down, we can tell all my fans how much I love you.”

-gets George’s permission and then it’s decided

-y’all make a short video that’s just his saying “this is my partner” and saying he’s uncomfortable with shoo and all that jazz

-then the video ends with a ton of short videos and pictures of you and Dream, or just you, or you and sapnap/ George.

-Dream just wants to show you off

[ssruis]

Idk the treatment of saki’s disability by the writers just irritates me bc like (& full disclosure this is written by someone who’s chronically ill but able to live w/o major symptoms) there’s so little thought put into how her disability specifically intersects with her mental health & overall life beyond a general Inspirational Look At Her Go She Can Overcome Anything type of take.

I dislike fully articulating my thoughts but to sum it up my experience with my own chronic illness was manifestation at 18 -> horrifically managed for 2 years bc doctors/parents did not take it seriously -> in so much pain that I couldn’t really move until i was put on immunosuppressants during peak covid and I watched close friends treat me like a burden for wanting the group to take covid precautions/abandon me because I couldn’t Party Hard anymore (to the point where one friend brought me somewhere where her friend fucking had Covid and sat next to me & then she texted me the next day like whoops heehee) -> severe depression & life ruining ensued. My family had to deny a good insurance opportunity bc my RA was an existing condition & they wouldn’t pay for my meds for two years and I had the fun side effect of my mom implying it was my fault/it was a burden over it. Etc etc. I don’t want to get into the full story because it’s unfun and also lengthy but I want to provide context for why saki’s treatment bugs me.

Her not really caring about honami/shiho not visiting bugs me. I get that life gets in the way but them going (semi?) no contact is a little shitty. Being disabled & not being allowed to be upset about the treatment you receive from your loved ones because you know they don’t see it as a big deal is. So frustrating. She deserves to be upset with them for that and have a conversation about it. There’s so much pressure on people w disabilities to essentially go “yeah I am a burden it’s my fault so I’m grateful you’re even spending time with me” that’s reflected in saki’s story and never challenged.

I’m too tired to articulate the complexity of her dynamic w tsukasa but it also frustrates me that it’s only touched upon that saki feels like she inconveniences him by being sick/she thinks him going out of his way for her is a burden. I love tsukasa and I’m obsessed w how much he cares about his sister but I also think saki deserves to be frustrated with how neurotic he is about an illness that isn’t his own.

So much abt being disabled (especially for those who are more affected than I am - I want to make that clear) is being told by society that you are a burden for needing accommodations/costing your family money/struggling with things able bodied people can do/etc. & saki very clearly feels a lot of that but it never gets challenged. Something that’s always stuck with me was seeing a tiktok where someone was like “actually I AM a burden bc I cost my parents money for antidepressants/adhd meds” which was so…. Buddy as someone on those meds and also 4/5 other drugs to manage the chronic illness I don’t want to hear shit from you abt being a burden. Imagine having panic attacks over career choices & fucking up your schooling permanently because you’re petrified of not having stable insurance to pay for the overpriced meds that keep you from being in agony and your friends/family don’t take it seriously because you look fine even though you can barely move without extreme pain and nobody in your life understands it or attempts to do so and you feel like the doctors don’t care because they give you meds & no diagnosis and you’re still in a pain that defies description. And your disability gets in the way of your passions and you can’t just muscle through it because doing so would fuck your body up even more. & then get back to me. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Moving on.

I don’t know if the colopale writing team has anyone w a disability but I feel like saki’s chronic illness essentially being a thing of the past & she’s just like “I’m fine now” is shitty. Ig it fits with her character but also she’s a fictional character and the writers are capable of addressing this. and they’re not. I want to see saki being told that she’s allowed to be mad and she’s allowed to feel unwell and she’s allowed to not be inspiration porn and she’s allowed to have ugly feelings and address those & that she’s not a burden and it’s ok to rely on others when you’re struggling.

[cyanoticfireflies]

Hazbin Hotel - Rewatch Thoughts (Episode 1, Part 1)

Notes: As I’ve been re-reading some of my favorite things (as in, not necessarily just fanfics, but other stuff that I enjoy) I got part of the way through @canary3d-obsessed’s “Restless Rewatch: The Untamed” and thought to myself that I should do one of these for Hazbin Hotel!  I can’t do a first time reacting to, because by this point I’ve watched it a good eight times -_- But this way I can point out some of the things that I’ve noticed on multiple rewatches, some of which prove just how clever the team behind this show is!  Also, you will get unapologetic Huskerdust shipping.  This is just my life now.

__________

Episode 1

So we start off with Charlie giving us the background story on Heaven, Hell, daddy Lucy, mama Lili, and all of that.  Heaven was “good,” Lucifer was a dreamer who thought of free will, the elders of Heaven said “nah,” Lucifer said “but what if yea,” and shit went sideways.

As someone who likes watching reaction videos on YouTube, I’ve been surprised by the number of people who have watched this intro and gone “Who’s Lilith?”  And then there are the ones who say they heard about her from Diablo 4.  I feel like Lilith isn’t… rare lore?  I don’t know where or when I first heard about Lilith, but that kind of supports my stance of surprise?

(I tried to show my religious friend Hazbin – leaning on the “it’s about redemption” point – and it was actually the mention of Lilith that first triggered her?  Because “you have to get really deep into things to find out about Lilith”?  I am confused.)

I won’t go into my theories too heavily at this point – I’ll put up a final chapter for those so I can take it down in humiliation when the show laughs in my face later – but Eve looks very, very evil when she gets that fruit…

Anyway, Luci and Lili got exiled, Luci developed depression, Lili developed magic song powers then fluffed off seven years ago.  Don’t worry, Charlie – your mom just went to go get some milk and cigarettes.

Genuinely, is Lilith being a song demon why everyone in Hell has pre-choreographed musical numbers?  If she “empowered demon-kind” with her songs, does that include giving them all baby song powers?  We know that these songs aren’t reality breaks because at the end of “Loser, Baby” the sharks comment on the song.  (There’s also Vaggie and Angel’s discussion in “Happy Day in Hell” but since that’s in-song it feels like a less-strong argument.) 

So it turns out that Charlie has been speaking this whole prolog bit aloud to herself.  Relatable, girl – me dictating to myself the entire course of actions it takes to get through my email inbox.  My officemate wears headphones so she won’t think I’m talking to her when I start talking to myself.

Also, poof – kitty! 

I love KeeKee (pronounced “key-key” because, and this is true, she’s a key).  But I also don’t know what the point of KeeKee is?  If it’s just to give Charlie a pet, that’s totally fine.  She also has Razzle and Dazzle, but Charlie could be one of those people with two cats, a full fishtank, a canary, and a husky and that’s totally chill.

(Why yes, my in-laws’ place is a zoo, why do you ask?)

I think I saw somewhere that KeeKee is the key to the hotel?  But when Lucifer pops up later he immediately coos over KeeKee like Charlie has had her forever, so she obviously didn’t come with the hotel.  Did Charlie change the locks on the hotel to KeeKee-compatible locks after she bought the place?  I assume this is a metaphorical key? 

(Lucifer and KeeKee in episode 5.)

Vivienne has said that KeeKee is a “physical manifestation of the hotel” but even that doesn’t make a lot of sense with the timeline…  *Shrugs*

Charlie and Vaggie talk, and I honestly get so much amusement out of people who are like “Is that her sister?  Are they best friends?”  And I know that they didn’t, like, make out in their opening scene.  But I didn’t ever suspect that they weren’t girlfriends?  Maybe it’s just because I read into pretty much all media from a queer lens.

(Right here, ma’am.)

Charlie will go on to call Vaggie her girlfriend much later in episode 5 and make it official-official, but if you don’t go into everything with a straight-is-default mindset I’m not sure how you miss it.

We blip into Alastor’s take on a commercial for a hotel.  Which is thoroughly enticing to exactly… Alastor.

(Quick question on the sinner designs – and I won’t stop every time we see a cluster of sinners to do this.  But everyone’s design has something to do with how they lived or died, right?  Angel is from a “web of crime” family, Husk is an unlucky black cat [I know, he’s a tuxedo cat not a fully black cat], Alastor was shot by a hunter like a deer… was grenade man some type of bomber?  A war criminal?  What is his story???)

His little hand-drawn picture is kind of cute, but it also makes me laugh because we actually see another character do something similar later on: Vox!

(And, yeah, Charlie obviously.)

I want someone to write the fic where Alastor and Vox’s relationship started in an introductory art class before descending into the chaos we see in episodes 2 and 8.

Vaggie does not like Alastor’s sense of humor and starts yelling at him.  Charlie tries the *kindergarten teacher* nice feedback.  “I love your use of color,” she says, staring at his construction paper covered in scribbled blobs of blue and orange.  “Very creative.”

(“Maybe if you crumpled your drawing into a little ball like this, it would look better in the trashcan, honey!”)

Alastor doesn’t see the problem here.  Alastor seems to have exactly zero capacity to accept anything that isn’t Alastor’s way, so this is unsurprising.

And then, with the sultry wail of a saxophone, we’re introduced to the bestest spider (and the only spider this horrifically arachnophobia author actually adores:) Angel Dust

Angel is totally willing to shoot an amateur porno right there on the sofa if it will help draw sinners to the hotel for Charlie.

And this would actually probably work in Hell, honestly.  The horniest sinners actually would be knocking the walls down if they thought that with every night’s stay you got a free round with Hell’s most famous porn star.  “Cum to the Hazbin Hotel for some ‘quality time’ with our singular resident.”

I am curious what Angel’s concept for his porno commercial was.  Just him and Alastor banging dirty on the coffee table in the foyer?  Night in the life of the brothel that is Angel’s bedroom?

(Also, I know Val owns Angel in the studio and Angel has some freedom outside of it, but does that include shooting his own pornos?  Is it okay if they’re not for money?  Or is it still not okay because Angel doesn’t own rights to his own image?  Would Angel have to charge so Val could get his cut?)

Charlie doesn’t want to exploit Angel that way, but Angel starts listing off all of his highly exploitable attributes.  He lists the legs twice, which is hilarious, but I’m immediately zeroed in on “the gag reflex.” 

You’d think that for someone who makes a significant amount of his living sucking dick that it should be “the lack of a gag reflex” but the thing about Angel is that he’s not exactly sucking dick for the nicest guys around.  Honestly, the fact that he does have a gag reflex and therefore will be gagging and choking and drooling is probably a turn-on for his usual partners.

We’re interrupted from Angel attempting to “keep going all night, baby,” by Lucifer calling, and the fact that his contact image in Charlie’s phone is a rubber duck in Lucifer’s top hat is honestly too cute?

Angel wants to know why Alastor can’t just make people stay in the hotel.  And the timing on this animation is actually a little weird.  After he says that he can, Husk chimes in with “Why do you think I’m here?” but Alastor is already moving to see around Vaggie as Husk starts talking.  Has he primed Husk to be his hype man if someone starts asking questions like this?

Here's Alastor, looking at Husk before Angel and Vaggie even turn their heads – and Alastor had to move his whole *torso* to see around Vaggie.

A: “Now, remember.  If anyone starts asking if I’m big and bad, you say yes.”

H: “Sure, Alastor.”

A: “I mean, I’ll say so first.  But then you jump in and talk me up.”

H: “Yeah, all right.”

A: “But, like, right away.”

H: “Uh-huh.”

A: “Should we practice?  We should practice.”

I do find it funny that we know the timeline – Alastor, Husk, and Niffty have been at the hotel a week per Vaggie’s words earlier.  But Husk is already grousing about them bitching and moaning all the time.  It’s been seven days?!  How much bitching and moaning are you guys doing?!  And it’s not just listening to, like, Angel bitch and moan.  It’s “you fucks.” 

(Or “you fuck’s” because Amazon doesn’t know how to pluralize a swear word?) 

Vaggie didn’t even want a bar, but I’m betting it took her about two piscos on the rocks to be over that.

We also get our official series intro to Niffty here when she says “I like being forced!” in her happy little voice with a wide smile. 

(God, I want the Niffty episode.)

Angel starts hitting on Husk, but (YMMV) I feel like at this point Angel isn’t trampling all over Husk’s boundaries the way he does later.  He’s just throwing passes and Husk is kind of engaging him?  By responding?  He threatens Angel, making it clear that the flirting is unwelcome, absolutely. 

But I kind of want to see where the conversation would have gone if Vaggie hadn’t stepped in.  At some point it might have gotten snappier, but Angel wasn’t in meltdown mode like he is in “Masquerade” so they probably could have kept bickering for a bit.

Vaggie and Angel start talking about the core premise of the show.  Is Hell the end of the road?  Maybe, but also maybe not.  Charlie thinks that it’s worth trying so that’s what Vaggie is going to do.

We as rewatchers know that where you end up in the afterlife isn’t as permanent of an assignment as the show makes it sound.  And Vaggie I’m sure highly suspects so as well.  This conversation is literally happening with one person who was in Heaven and now lives in Hell.

Though I do have to wonder if there’s a teeny tiny part of Vaggie that hopes the hotel fails, though?  If Sinners really can be redeemed into Heaven, then she has to double/triple/quadruple think about what she’s done as an Exorcist.  If the Sinners prove irredeemable, it doesn’t *justify* what she did or anything, but it could potentially relieve some of the guilt for her.

(Blake Roman’s delivery on “crack is expensive” is my favorite moment from episode 1.)

If we didn’t know that Charlie was drowning in daddy issues, I feel like we get a good demonstration at the end of her phone call.  Yes, she’s excited and happy and hopeful.  But she also says “Okay” and hangs up. 

Maybe Lucifer said, “I’ll talk to you soon” or something and she said “okay” back.  But I never hang up after a call with my dad without a “love you, bye.”

IDK why Charlie calls Vaggie over except to show her hyperactive squirrel brain going wild.  Alastor and Angel are staring at them and seem like they can hear every word even after Charlie had Vaggie come around the corner.

Vaggie knows that Charlie means Adam, right?  She has to.  Charlie says “the leader of the angel army” and as of now, I mean… that’s Adam.

Also, initially I missed the detail that Adam was the one to call the meeting. 

Was he going to inform Lucifer face-to-(virtual)-face that they were moving up the next extermination?  Do Lucifer and Adam meet regularly?  I think not from some of the dialogue in episode 8, but then what is the Heaven Embassy for?

(We'll pick up in Episode 1, Part 2 due to Tumblr's 30 images-per-post limit.)

[writingonleaves]

and there are some days when i think that, somewhere, you're watching - the blue au

universe: the blue au

warnings: cancer, grief, sadness, the usual with anything to do with the blue au's premise lol

title: "chemtrails" by lizzy mcalpine

word count: 1.1k

author's note: lol hey!! there are a million other wips i should be working on but here we are! if you haven't read at least the first part of this au yet, you probs should for context. we are also manifesting here all three hughes brothers make it to the olympics. inspired by the beautiful players tribune article kevin hayes wrote for his late brother jimmy. i thought a lot about which brother would write something like this and ended up settling on quinn <3 enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

*****

The Ones We Play For 

for The Players Tribune 

by Quinn Hughes 

Written February 4, 2026

I’ll never forget the first time I put on a USA jersey for an international competition. 

It was for the 2015 World Under-17 Challenge when I had just turned 16. I didn’t think much of it at the time. The only thing I thought about was playing well, but it was an honor nonetheless. 

Every time you get the opportunity to represent your country in any way, it’s an honor. I know everyone says it, but it’s true. The whole nation is looking at you and cheering you and your teammates on. The playing of the anthem means more than ever. You look at the jersey and feel like you’re part of something bigger.

Next week, hockey at the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milano-Cortina will begin. I’ve always dreamed of being about to play at the Olympics, but now that it’s actually here, it’s surreal. 

The team is great, and I feel lucky to even be here. As I look around at my teammates, I feel confident that we can bring home a gold medal. But it’ll take hard work. That’s nothing that we don’t know though. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to put on the jersey and who we wear it for. Of course, I think I speak for every single person at these Olympics when we say we wear it for our country and the fans watching us, whether here in Italy or back home. 

But we’re all playing for someone in our own support group. The village that has brought each of us here.

First, my parents, who have been there since the very first day. My mom, who taught me how to skate and my dad, who taught me how to see the game. My extended family: my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family who aren’t technically family but who might as well be. Everyone in my life who’s always offered support and encouraging words, who has sat in cold rinks and watched me play. Whether they’re here in Italy or watching from various parts of the world, I’m playing for them. 

I’m also playing for my brothers, who will be on the ice with me. That’s still crazy for me to think about. We never could’ve imagined this when we were playing mini sticks in the basement as kids. Of course, we dreamed about it. But to see it come to reality? I feel very grateful. In the locker room, I look at Jack on my right and then Luke at my left. We’re playing for each other. 

But most importantly, I’m playing for Miguel Sandoval. 

I don’t talk about Miguel often, but he was one of the most important people in my life. Still is. He met my parents before I was born and automatically became a second father to me. To be honest, I don’t think I talk about him often because it still hurts to think about. 

Miguel was one of my biggest cheerleaders from the beginning. The fact that he’s not alive to see me take the ice next week is, well, it’s a lot of things. Sad is the first word that pops to mind. Unfair is another. The one who was at the rink next to my father in the stands before I even really knew how to play hockey isn’t alive to see me play in the Olympics? There’s no words to describe how devastating that is. 

He never got to see me play in any USA jersey, even though he was always confident I would put one on eventually. He died of pancreatic cancer on New Year’s Day, 2015. 

It’s been over 11 years without him, but he’s still in everything I do. A huge part of the reason I wear 43 is because of him — his birthday is April 3. I still remember his boisterous laugh and his kind eyes. He wrote Jack, Luke and I letters before he died that were specifically addressed to be given to us on our draft days. I still carry mine with me on every road trip. That’s how long and how strongly he believed in us. Somehow, he just knew that we would be drafted long before it happened. 

I have every word of that letter memorized. Sometimes, I trace over his handwriting with my thumb, and it feels like he's still with us.

During his brief battle with cancer, even when his body had almost no strength left, he always greeted us with a smile and an enthusiastic greeting. Even when he was advised not to, he made it to the games he could until his last days. To the very last day, he lived life with the biggest smile on his face.

If anyone should be here to see his “talented boys” take on the ice, it’s him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone like Miguel who loved them so unconditionally. I’m grateful for the time I had with him, even if I desperately wish it was more. We weren’t his sons by blood, but he treated us like family. But sometimes life is unfair, and we have to hold on to the fact that everything happens for a reason.

Here’s a reason: Miguel’s wife, Maeve, who is like a second mother to me, will be watching from Boston. Maeve is the best, always keeping it lighthearted and reminding me that life is supposed to be lived to the fullest. She has this youthful energy that’s just so infectious. She’s the one who always reminds me that hockey is supposed to be fun. I wouldn't be half the person I am today without her support.

And then their daughter, Clementine. Clem, I call her. Jack calls her Clee and Luke calls her Clemmy. Clem’s my best friend / older sister — the universal older sister, to be honest. It doesn’t matter if our last names aren’t the same. She’s been there for me ever since I could remember. Even when we were states, sometimes countries, away, I knew that if I called her, she’d always pick up. Currently on the journey to becoming a doctor, Clem is the kindest, most intelligent, most selfless and strongest woman I’ve ever met. She was the one who lost her father, but she made sure that all of us were okay. Even now, she can’t ever seem to take off the big-sister hat. But I wouldn’t have her any other way. 

Miguel, wherever you are, I can tell you a few things. First, I promise that we’re taking care of your wife and daughter as best as we can. We’re gonna try our best to get to the final rounds of this tournament so that they can fly out and watch us play. We love them and they’ll always be family. Second, whenever I feel a bit lost or need to be grounded, I think of you and your calm demeanor and bear hugs. I wish I could have just one more hug. Squeeze you one more time.

Miguel, when I put on that USA jersey and step on the ice, I will be playing for you. Jack, Luke and I will all be skating for you.

We miss you. 

We love you.

This is for you.

Yours, 

Quinn

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Downfall (pt 2/2)

See? I didn’t lie, part 2 is here and it’s only...11:00PM Sunday night lol. Wow guys, this part got long (like 3.5k words long. Oops.) and *sappy*. But, you know what I love about snz fic? We always give the people what they want. You see a smoking gun in act 1 you best believe it’s going off in act 3. Lmao. Also, I’m sorry if there’s continuity/grammar/spelling errors, I’ll read it through again in the morning and fix them I just can’t do it tonight haha.

Anyway! Hope you guys like the second part.

cw: Male, colds, contagion, mess, there is a passing-out moment in here as well. Shit gets wild lol. This part is heavily inspired by 3 prompts in my inbox, so if you sent a prompt it’s probably featured here!

Downfall - Pt 2

When Elijah opened his eyes Friday morning, he nearly cried in relief; after three full days of feeling like death, he finally, finally felt like he was on the other side of this shit.

The past two days had been a nightmare. After Greyson had called him Tuesday night and told him that not one but two other managers had gone down, Elijah had to mentally prepare himself for a full week of work with one of the worst colds he’d ever endured. He’d walked into the kitchen Wednesday morning stuffed to the gills with dayquil, cough syrup, and ibuprofen; a combination he was sure was actively taking years off of his life. Greyson was already hard at work, despite the fact that Elijah knew he’d been at the restaurant until well after midnight the night before.

“He lives!” Greyson said, throwing his arms up as though Elijah had just scored the winning goal for their nonexistent soccer team. “You look god-awful, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Elijah coughed out a laugh, and Greyson lead them both into the office. “So, here’s the deal,” Greyson said as they both sat. “I told both Matt and Mark to stay home til Saturday – just to make sure they don’t infect anyone else. I closed the books at 50 covers tonight and tomorrow – and I know, it’s barely enough to cover labor, but we’re in survival mode here, so don’t give me that look. I got in at six, most of my prep for the evening is done, so I figured when we open I can throw on a button down and help on the floor while you expo back here during the rush. Does that all work for you?”

The GM blinked, blindsided. He knew Greyson was good in a shit situation, but damn; the kid should’ve been a fighter pilot or an ER doctor. “Yeah,” Elijah said, “sounds great, Grey.”

So that’s what they’d done. Both Wednesday and Thursday. Elijah had holed up in the office until the servers needed him for preshift, and Greyson had prepared his cooks for two weird nights of Elijah expoing. Service had been moderately slow both evenings, which would’ve been great, if it hadn’t allowed Elijah to hyper-focus on his lingering symptoms and Greyson to flit and fret over him every time he stepped into the kitchen.

“Do you need anything, Lij? Water? Tea? Meds?” The constant stream of mother-henning had eventually worn on everyone, and even Greyson’s cooks had finally said, “Chef, he’s fine.”

But they had gotten through it. Elijah had sneezed and coughed and cursed his way through garnishing dishes, and Greyson had awkwardly talked to tables until finally the week was nearly over. And now it was Friday, one day til the big wedding, and Elijah was finally, finally feeling better.

Elijah walked in at 9AM to a thankfully-empty kitchen; he’d told Greyson the night before to sleep in, prepare himself for the weekend, take some Emergen-C and be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to succumb to the rot Elijah had brought in, but he was surprised that the chef had actually listened to him. The GM placed his things down in their empty office and took a breath; it was going to be okay. Mark and Matt would be back for the wedding, they would be relatively slow tonight, and Saturday would be perfect. Manifest it, Lij, he said to himself, sitting at the desk and turning the computer on. Manifest it.

After an hour or so of paperwork, Elijah heard the back doors open as Greyson let himself in. The GM pushed away from the computer and cracked his neck, anticipating the usual barrage of word vomit Greyson was wont to spew out the moment he walked into the restaurant. “Morning, Chef,” he called out before even seeing Greyson, marveling at how much clearer his voice was today. Fuck that fucking cold.

Greyson stepped into the office and silently saluted his boss, a Starbucks cup adorning each of his hands. “Hey, boss,” he said, placing one in front of Elijah and one next to his own computer. The chef didn’t sit down; instead, he took off his hoodie, grabbed a clean coat from the back of his chair, and buttoned it up before snagging his drink and heading into the kitchen. Elijah swung himself around in his chair, dumbstruck.

“That’s it?” he asked, watching Greyson unpack his knives a few feet away. “‘Hey, boss’? No big gameplan? No huddle to discuss the week’s insanity? No bombardment of questions regarding my health?” Greyson huffed out a laugh, but Elijah wasn’t having it. “You didn’t even tell me what you got me to drink,” he said, holding up the mystery cup.

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss and bit back a smile. “It’s a chai,” he said, bemused. Elijah threw his hands up, flustered.

“The amount that that doesn’t address 90% of my questions is truly amazing,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, which – certainly wasn’t a chai. The hell was that?

“I don’t know what second-rate Starbucks you stopped at, Chef, but this is definitely not a chai,” Elijah said, pushing the cup towards the door. “What is that? It’s like...something lemon.”

Greyson colored a bit and picked up his own cup to look at the sticker. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, striding back into the office and switching their cups. “Sorry ’bout that. I switched the cups.”

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his face seemingly stuck in a mask of disgust. “So that I can remember to never order it.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “Have you ever ordered something from Starbucks that wasn’t a chai?” he asked, sipping his drink. Elijah shrugged and turned towards that computer again.

“Fair enough,” he said, waking the screen by shaking the mouse. He turned to Greyson again when the floorplan popped up on his screen. “Can we take a quick look at tonight together? Since Matt and Mark are still out? Do you think we should cut the covers off now, or go to 75?” Elijah squinted, his face nearly touching the screen in concentration. After a few moments of silence, he peeled himself away from the monitor to glance at the chef, who was – the fuck was he doing?

“The fuck are you doing?” Elijah asked, snapping Greyson out of his trance. The chef had been turned almost all the way around, facing the kitchen. Clearly he hadn’t heard a word Elijah said.

“Huh? Shit, sorry boss. Lost in thought,” Greyson said, turning back toward the GM. “Uhh… 75. Yeah, that looks good,” he finished, lamely. Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your problem today?” he asked, though not with malice. Greyson chuckled.

“Just got a lot on my mind, boss,” he said. “Big weekend. Week’s been long. I need to get back to prep, if that’s okay.” Elijah gave Greyson another look, but nodded after a moment and shooed him out. Greyson smiled at his boss, held his cup out in a false ‘cheers’. “I’ll be prepping in the back kitchen if you need me,” he said, and disappeared past the line into the back.

It wasn’t Elijah’s fault, he reasoned with himself later, that he hadn’t seen through the ruse. He’d just barely gotten over a monster of a cold; he was himself busy and stressed; it was early and he hadn’t had enough caffeine. He couldn’t be expected to decode what was wrong with Greyson every time the kid acted weird. However, he couldn’t help but kick himself when he finally realized – thirty minutes before service – what the weird-tasting drink the chef had gotten himself was. Aptly named, of course, and something Elijah himself had only had once before, courtesy of Greyson himself.

A medicine ball. Greyson had gotten himself a medicine ball.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up, but it certainly wasn’t going to be through tomorrow’s wedding.

Greyson sat down, fully clothed, on the toilet and put his head in his hands for the third time that day. The fact that Elijah hadn’t noticed at this point was a mix of pure dumb luck and more sudafed than a human person should ever in their life consume. He assumed the former would begin to run out soon, as the latter had hours ago.

“Huhh...HNGSTH! NTSH! ITZSH! Fuck – HNGTSZHUE! Goddamn it.”

Greyson pulled a length of toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose until it made him cough. He checked his watch as he threw the toilet paper into the trashcan next to him – 9:15PM. When he’d stepped into this bathroom, dodging Elijah as he locked the door, all but one of the tables had left. He’d go back to the line, he’d tell Leo, his grill cook who’d been there nearly as long as he had, to check that everyone had cleaned thoroughly, and he’d sneak out the back before Elijah could question him.

And then what? Greyson asked himself as he stood and washed his hands. You somehow make a miraculous recovery between now and tomorrow morning? Have you seen how this shit took down Elijah, Mark, and Matt?

Greyson ignored the voice in his head and dried his hands. He assumed Elijah hadn’t noticed because they were both wildly busy before service, and once service had started, they were both worn thin being the only managers in their departments for the third day in a row. Greyson had managed to keep the congestion out of his voice with the aforementioned sudafed, and he had taken his happy ass to the bathroom or out back to ‘smoke’ when he really needed to sneeze or cough all night. Elijah had definitely given him some looks through the evening, but nothing Greyson couldn’t brush off by pulling a ticket distractedly and not making eye contact.

Tomorrow, though? When Matt and Mark were both going to be back, and they were all going to be prepping their asses off for the wedding? He genuinely had no idea what he was going to do to keep them from noticing.

Greyson exited the bathroom, stealthily managing to avoid his boss as he slipped into the kitchen. He gathered his things, put Leo in charge, and was nearly out the door, nearly safe, when -

“Chef!” Elijah called behind him, making him freeze in his tracks just outside the back door. Fuck.

“Yeah, boss?” Greyson asked, turning to face Elijah and hoping he didn’t look like the garbage fire he felt. Elijah crossed his arms over his chest in the cold of the alleyway and motioned to Greyson’s entire being.

“You leaving?” he asked tapping his foot. Greyson managed a smile and lifted his backpack and knife bag a little for inspection.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, quietly clearing his throat to mask the gravel of his voice. Elijah didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Leo shutting down the line?” he asked. Greyson nodded, swallowing around a throat on fire.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did you uh…ndeed something from mbe?” Fuck.

Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look. “Grey,” he said, voice low. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. Now.”

Greyson felt his cheeks redden, but he immediately shook his head. “I’mb good,” he said, cursing once again the congestion that had sneaked into his voice. “Promise. I gotta go, I’mb gonna mbiss mby train.” Without missing a beat, the chef turned around and headed towards the street, hoping his boss couldn’t see him stifle nearly ten sneezes into his fist as he walked.

This was not going to end well.

***

It was worse than Elijah could have even imagined.

When Elijah walked into the restaurant that morning, the first thing he did was text Greyson.

9:01AM

Hey. I’m here, is there anything you want me to pull out/start on before you get in?

9:01AM

Also, how are you feeling?

Normally, he’d get a response in moments; when Greyson wasn’t at work, the man was glued to his phone, playing some stupid game or messaging one of his fifty Bumble suitors he kept on the line at all times. I get bored, he often said to Elijah. One starts annoying me, BOOM! Onto the next.

Today, though, nearly twenty minutes passed before Elijah’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out immediately and couldn’t help but wince at the text the chef sent.

9:18AM

great. no. ill be there in 20.

Anyone who texted with Greyson more than once in their life knew that if he wasn’t being his multi-exclamation-point, constant-joke-and-lol self over text, he was probably close to death. Elijah typed out an ‘ok’ to the chef, before making a thread with Matt and Mark.

9:31AM

Elijah

Hey, guys. Just making sure you’re both on your way in. Greyson’s gonna be down bad. Need all hands on deck asap.

9:32AM

Mark

???? is he ok??? down bad in what way?

9:33AM

Matt

ya, coming now. figured chef would’ve gone down by now. should I bring anything?

9:34AM

Elijah

Just your stamina. Gonna be a long day. Thx.

9:34AM

Mark

no one answered my ?

im so confused

oh

OH

shit, I knew I got greyson sick. fuuuuuuuuck. sorry, boss :(

9:35AM

Elijah

All good. Inevitable. Let’s just get this day done.

Elijah clicked his phone off and sighed. He could go for a whiskey, or even just a long, drawn out scream about now, but a cigarette and a prayer would have to do him. Twelve hours until the wedding was over.

***

How Greyson managed to make it to work was anyone’s guess, him included.

The chef pushed through the back doors and before he could even get past the prep kitchen he was doubled over, sneezing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

“HhhIGSTZH-ue! HuhESHHH-ue! HRRTSCHZUE! NGTSHZUE! Christ, fuck,” Greyson muttered, wiping his nose on his sleeve for what he could only wish he could say was the first time that morning. He cleared his throat, which was for naught since he could barely speak, and continued his trudge into the main kitchen.

When Greyson had made it home last night, he told himself he’d be able to continue to hide his burgeoning illness. He thought maybe more medicine, some Vick’s, and a good night’s sleep would give him the upper hand against it. He’d told himself he was stronger than his coworkers, that his immune system wouldn’t fail him on one of the most important days of his career.

Oh, how the mighty will fall.

“HhNGTSHHZUE! ITSZH-uhh! Fuuuuck,” Greyson moaned, stumbling into the thankfully-empty office and yanking a handful of tissues from the box on the desk. He wiped his nose, unwilling to unleash the volley of sneezes he knew would be behind a nose blow, and pressed his palms into his eyes to try and relieve some of the pressure. Who the fuck gets a cold this fucking bad, Elijah, he wondered silently.

As if conjured, Greyson felt his phone buzz with a text from his boss.

10:07AM

Bless. That sounds fucking awful.

Could a guy not get a moment’s peace in this fucking place?

10:08AM

i should call the cdc’s biohazard unit on u for unleashing this shit onto us.

An admission, but what else was he supposed to do? Elijah could hear him in the dining room. The game was over. Greyson put his head back into his hands until he heard his boss’s footsteps click into the kitchen.

“...chef?” Elijah asked, and Greyson wearily lifted his head.

“Mornding,” Greyson croaked, before turning to the side to cough, crackly and painful-sounding, into his sleeve. He felt something get placed on the desk next to him, and when he finally was able to compose himself he saw it was a Starbucks cup. Greyson smiled, weary.

“Chai?” he asked, picking up the cup. Elijah huffed out a laugh.

“Something like that,” he said, moving to sit next to Greyson. “Now, hear me out. I think I have a gameplan.”

***

At five o’clock, Elijah finally went to rouse the man of the hour with a knock on the office door.

“Chef,” he said, trying to wake Greyson as gently as possible. “Grey. We need you for plate-up.” Greyson nodded blearily and, with the help of both Matt and Elijah, managed to get to his feet.

It had been an interesting day for sure. Elijah’s plan had been for Greyson to try and help with some of the more intricate parts of prep in the morning, and then lay down from noon until it was go time, but that had proved nearly impossible.

Greyson had managed to prep for about three minutes at a time before dissolving into nasty coughing fits that lasted minutes at a time, or absolutely relentless bouts of -

“HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue! Hhuhh…NGTSHZUE! ITSZHUE! Huhh-ETSHZCH-oo!”

“Christ, boss,” Matt said, attempting a laugh after a particularly intense fit of sneezes, “When you go down you really go – oh, fuck.” In teasing his boss, Matt nearly missed Greyson’s eyes rolling back into his head and his knees buckling as he lost consciousness for a moment. “ELIJAH!” Matt called, catching his boss and lowering him to the ground as gracefully as possible.

Once they’d managed to get Greyson back to a standing position, Elijah had decided it was too risky to let him continue to be...vertical. Greyson had laid out for Matt exactly what he needed him to do to finish preparing the food, and retreated to the blanket fort they had all heavily utilized this week for a sleep that more closely resembled a coma than anything restorative.

Matt, Elijah, and even Mark had managed to finish the prep Greyson had worked so hard on that week by four PM. Once they felt ready, the three of them gathered in front of the office to stare at the racked-out chef.

“Should we… ask him if everything looks okay?” Mark had asked, ringing his hands. Matt and Elijah exchanged a look before Elijah shook his head.

“I think… I think he’ll be okay with just about anything at this point,” Elijah said. The other two nodded, unwilling to take this precious moment of sleep away from the chef.

When the guests were all seated and ready for first courses, it was, of course, Elijah’s job to wake the sleeping bear. Greyson, ever the trooper, took his place at the pass and regarded the three of them with all the pride he could muster.

“Thangk you guys. Really,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ndow. Let’s get this shit over w – HGSTHH-ue! Snrf. Guhh,” Greyson held tight to the granite counter top and pulled himself back to his full height.

“Let’s get this done,” he said, pulling out his tweezers. “And whend it’s over, I’mb ndot answering mby phone for a fuckigg week.”

They all managed a laugh. They all assumed their positions for plating and running food. This certainly wasn’t the glamorous job it was portrayed in the movies, but they did have something all that media never seemed to truly capture; they had each other, and this place that all of them thought of as not a second, but a true home.

Greyson cleared his throat as the first of the servers came through the doors, bearing labeled sheets with seat numbers. “Order in!” he called, and they all put their heads down and began their work.