#quartet sounds like a lovely show

[kristsingto]

y i love you fan party 2019 is soooo crazy and i think this as someone who has only seen some of the performances. it has my favorite kristsingto performance. offgun. kristgun. earthnew. taysing. taynew. singtonew. some of the funniest interactions i can think of. utilization of love triangle (earthnew vs taynew) anyway i'm saying we need y i love you fan party 2024.

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer — Part Nine

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, marijuana usage, sweet dirty talk and praise, fingering, oral, p in v, fluffy sex <3

if you’re uncomfortable with smut, this chapter can be skipped with no impact on the plot <3 it can also be read as a stand-alone if desired.

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist |

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was nine at night and you and Az were the only two in the house.

Rhys had made reservations for him and Feyre at an upscale restaurant half an hour away, a place where his father used to take his mother on special occasions. You'd been nosy and googled it. It was the kind of place with candlelit tables and a string quartet in the corner, where the waitstaff wore tuxedos and addressed you by title.

Mor and Cassian were out, too. The twins they’d met at Summit were staying in some house twenty minutes away and throwing a huge party. They tried to drag you and Az along, but the idea of squeezing into a crowded house with a bunch of strangers didn’t really compare to the night you had in mind. So you and Azriel had politely declined, both secretly craving something more enjoyable—smoking a fat joint and enjoying the quiet, just the two of you.

You sat on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs idly as Az finished preparing your snacks— the main thing that brought you both to the kitchen to begin with. Your mouth was still slightly dry from the joint, that earthy aftertaste still lingering in the back of your throat.

“This isn’t a conspiracy theory because it’s like, an actual thing,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “But I love the fact that so many of those sea monsters we read about were probably just whale penises.”

Azriel stilled, turning to look at you with an amused brow. “What?”

You nodded emphatically, cheeks aching from the deep smile still on your face. “People would see these giant, weird things sticking out of the water and think it was some sort of sea serpent or whatever, but it was actually just a whale showing off it’s huge dick.”

Azriel held your gaze for a moment before he burst out into laughter. The sound dissipated throughout the room and you swore it made it lighter, made the kitchen glow with a sense of life it didn't have a few moments prior. You weren't sure how it was possible, but somehow your smile grew even wider.

There was something about Azriel’s laugh that felt energizing, especially when you were high. It was something far more than just a sensory experience. You watched as he shook his head, the curls on his hair moving as his eyes found yours again. Slightly puffy, bright with amusement.

“I have to show you. It’s crazy.” You moved to grab your phone from its current place face-down on the counter next to you.

Azriel reached out and covered your hand with his. “Nooo.”

“Az, you have to.”

“Later, maybe.” His expression softened as he looked at you, the laughter fading into a tender smile. “But first, taste test time.”

You sat up straighter, looking down at the plate in front of him. “They’re ready?”

You’d had a specific craving—something sweet, gooey, and crunchy. Azriel had taken it upon himself to make your dream come true. He made do with what was in the pantry, melting down marshmallows and making a pan of small home-made rice krispy bars. He’d covered them with Nutella, rolling them up like some delicacy you’d find in a high-end bakery.

His smile widened, and without a word, he held one out for you. You eagerly accepted it, your fingers brushing against his before you brought the treat to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a moan left your lips as the sweet, rich flavors exploded on your tongue.

“How is it?”

You nodded, head bobbing as you took another gluttonous bite.

“It’s perfect,” you said, finally finding the strength to open your eyes and look at him. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He chuckled softly, watching as you took another bite. “Yeah?”

You nodded again. “You could be a chef. I would pay you to stay in the kitchen, looking all pretty and making food for me.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “So a trophy chef.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

He laughed again, bringing his hands to either side of your thighs as he leaned in closer. “What happened to me being a spy, huh?”

You shrugged lightheartedly. “That too. Honestly, Az, you could be anything you wanted.”

He narrowed his eyes, brows furrowing slightly, the corners of his lips still curved in that half-smile that made your heart skip.

“Because I can make little treats?” He asked.

You cocked your head at him, running your gaze over his face. “Because you’re so good at putting yourself to the task at hand.”

Azriel blinked, and the crease between his brows softened. You watched as something crossed through his face, something wistful and warm.

“What?” you asked when he didn't speak.

“Nothing.”

You let your thoughts wander as you finished the treat in your hand. Everyone seemed to have a clear idea of what they wanted— or, at least, an idea of where their ambitions lied. But Azriel was different. He was like you. Hesitant, unsure. Back in freshman year, he’d taken a few criminology classes he loved. He had a passion then, but as the years went by you assumed he’d switched gears, choosing to focus on his general education classes instead. Azriel understood the pressure of fitting into a mold you weren't entirely sure about.

“What do you wanna do, Az?”

Azriel’s face grew thoughtful, his gaze scanning your face as if searching for something. His eyes flickered and then a smile, slow and soft, spread across his lips. He leaned in just a fraction closer. “I want to kiss you.”

You felt a rush of heat and looked down at your lap, nervously brushing your hands together. “That’s not what I meant.”

Azriel lifted your chin with a delicate finger, bringing your gaze to his. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. “No?”

His gaze flicked to somewhere below your eyes. A second later, he brought his thumb to the corners of your lips, gently wiping away what you knew was probably excess chocolate.You inhaled sharply and felt something deep in your chest – something like a wire strung tight, ready to sing with the slightest touch. You’d been craving him for so long now. You could feel that familiar sensation, that burning desire simmering low in your gut. The way those damn grey sweatpants hung on his hips didn’t help matters either.

His touch lingered on your skin, hovering just above your bottom lip. Before he could pull his hand away, you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking off the remaining chocolate.

Azriel’s breath hitched, lips parting in surprise. The low groan that left his lips next invigorated you, pushing you to bring your tongue around his thumb, swirling and sucking on it. When he met your gaze, you slowly released it, and he traced it along your bottom lip as a shaky breath escaped him.

“We have the house to ourselves."

With darkened eyes, Az ran his thumb along your lips again, swallowing hard. You traced the motion down the column of his throat. Before you could fully register the loss of his touch, his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You gasped as he positioned himself between your legs, and instinctively, you wrapped them around him.

"Az.."

He closed the gap between you, lips crashing against yours as he kissed you deeply. You weren't sure if you'd ever get used to it. Perhaps it was a very strong honeymoon period, that the way Az kissed you felt magical because it had only been two weeks of this. But you felt starved, felt as if you needed more and more of him to satiate you— yet even still, you were insatiable.

You nipped at his lower lip, moved yourself to press against him further. You let him take the lead, letting out a breathy moan against his lips at the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck and you arched into him, welcomed him with a bared throat and a tug to his curls. His touch was everywhere at once—his hands roaming over your back, his lips trailing down your collarbone. Your body sang with every movement, with the feeling of his mouth on your skin.

You could feel the heat of his breath against you as he nipped and kissed his way to your ear.

“Do we want to go upstairs?”

You nodded before words could form. Nodded as you tangled your fingers further into his hair, nodded as you pulled him to your face, bringing him into another kiss. "Yes," you whispered between breaths. “Yes, please."

Azriel’s smile brushed against your skin as he kissed you back.

You made your way up the stairs, every step wobbly and uncoordinated as Az attempted to lead you both, lips still locked, his hands around your waist and yours around his neck.

"Shit." Azriel cursed as he bumped against the well, the pictures frames rattling with the impact. You pulled back, steadying yourself against the wall as your laughter bubbled up.

"Az," you playfully scolded through a breath, "You're going to knock everything down."

He only shushed you with a mischievous smile, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back into his orbit. Another frame tilted askew as he maneuvered you both along. You pulled away for a moment, your gaze falling to the framed photo in front of you, the one you'd come to love so dearly. It got better every time you saw it, from the pizza in Mor's braces to the nauseatingly sweet frame of awkward fifteen year old Azriel.

"I love this photo," you said, pointing to it with a delicate smile. "Look at you."

Azriel glanced at it, his face scrunching in mock horror. "That’s a horrendous photo," he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. He broke apart, shaking his head against yours. "Don’t look at it."

"But Az—"

"Don’t look!" He insisted, and you laughed into his kiss.

"I love hearing you laugh," Azriel murmured against your lips, "And that I'm the one causing it." He kissed you again. "But right now," he said, his voice dropping to a low, heated murmur, "I’d much rather be making you moan.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You melted into his touch, feeling your skin set alight as his hands roamed, his lips pressing against yours with a hunger that tasted of deep desire, something sweet and smoky like longing. The touch of a lover craving another.

You stumbled together into your room— the nearest one to the stairs, and the door slammed shut behind you. Azriel fumbled with the strings of his waistband, fingers slipping as he struggled to undo the knot.

"Ah, fuck," he said, voice still tinged with that sense of amusement, that laugh still in his tone. A few seconds later, his sweats were halfway down his leg, tangling around his ankles as he tried to kick them off.

"Careful," you warned, trying to stifle your laughter. Azriel then watched, amused, as you struggled to pull off your shirt, the fabric snagging on your earrings. And when you'd managed to free yourself, your hands were on him, slipping under his shirt, curious fingers skimming over the hard planes of his stomach. You tugged the fabric over his head, taking in the grin that played on his lips.

The shirt sailed through the air, landing haphazardly on your bedside lamp. You and Az laughed, a shared sound that he swallowed as he pulled you into another kiss. His hands were on you, guiding you back, and you were both still laughing as you fell back onto your bed in a tangle of limbs, all clothes besides his underwear long removed and thrown in a corner. Azriel leaned over you, face flushed, eyes filled with warmth.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You laughed, biting your lip as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your noses almost touched. "Hey," you repeated, like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"I really like you."

Azriel's voice was soft, a whisper that felt as soulful as a Sunday confession. It caressed your skin, made your heart flutter and core clench.

"Good to know," you said with a dainty smile. "I like you too."

A smile broke out across Az's face and you brought a trailing hand to feel the dimples on his cheeks, tracing the smile lines etched into his skin. You were completely naked below him now. Strangely, you'd never felt this comfortable, never felt so at ease. Your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the chain necklace hanging around his neck. You played with it absentmindedly, feeling the smooth links sliding between your fingers.

You tugged at it lightly as you murmured, "And I also like this."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, still running your fingers along the chain, feeling the heat of his skin just beneath it. You weren't sure how it was possible for a piece of jewelry to be so attractive, for simple metal to make you picture the dirtiest of images. But it was. And you had been. You weren't ashamed to admit that you'd imagined how it would feel dangling in your face as Az pounded into you. You finally met his eyes and nodded, breathless despite having done nothing but trace the cool metal around his neck. "Yeah."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, the playful warmth in them shifting into something deeper, hungrier. His smile curved into a smirk. "Good," he rasped, and your breath hitched at the intensity in his voice.

His lips were on yours again. Gone was the soft, teasing rhythm from before. Now, his mouth was hot and demanding, as if he were starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. The sudden switch from sweet to searing made your heart race. You tugged on the chain again, more forcefully this time, and he growled in response, fingers eagerly tracing the outline of your body. You shivered with each touch, with each drag of his hands across your skin.

His hand found your breast, exposed to the cool air, and you shuddered as his ridged fingers tweaked your nipple. You arched beneath him and he paused for a moment, lips hovering just above yours.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered.

Your mind raced, the words catching in your throat as you tried to form a coherent thought. You wanted him everywhere, wanted him to explore you for hours, to ruin you for the touch of anyone else. You shook your head, breathing heavily, trying with all your might to summon an answer.

"I-I don't know."

He shook his head, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in invitation. He said something else, something quieter and alluring, a sentence probing you to answer, to think.

"Please just touch me," you managed to breathe as your gaze bounced between his eyes. "I just want you to touch me."

Azriel's lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Like this?” he asked, beginning to move down as his hand slid down your exposed stomach.

“Yes,” you said, your body reacting to his touch. “And kiss me."

"Kiss you where?"

He was beneath your navel now, the trail of his path wet with the open kisses he'd left. You took a shaky breath. "Everywhere."

He chuckled softly against the bare skin of your leg. “Everywhere, huh?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much you wanted him. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls as he continued to explore. He leaned, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the very top of your thigh, just shy of where you needed him, where your body ached for him. But just as you thought he might give you what you were silently begging for, he pulled back. His lips began a slow journey upward, leaving you yearning, the frustration building with each inch he traveled.

He paused just above your mouth, sharing a breath as he looked down at you. "I've thought about this for so long," he murmured, "How I wanted to touch you first, the ways I wanted you to fall apart."

You released a sound in response, needy and pleading. You’d spent countless nights imagining what it would be like to be with Azriel, to see the side of him he reserved for only a few. You’d wondered how his touch might feel—gentle, reverent, like a lover tracing sacred ground. You'd thought of him worshiping your body like a saint, his hands gliding over your bare skin, fantasized about the way his fingers might curl inside you, delicate yet purposeful, stroking the most intimate parts of you until you unraveled beneath him.

“I want to hear all those pretty noises I know you can make,” he continued, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Can you do that for me?”

But you hadn’t imagined this. You hadn’t expected him to be so talkative, to render you speechless with a single look. The hunger in his eyes made you feel divine, as though he was starving for you, for the taste of you, for the sound of your voice.

You nodded. It was all you could do— barely able to breathe, let alone speak. He smiled like the sun and kissed you again, one hand curving along your shoulder, sliding down your body with painful slowness, a detour around the curve of your breast, a whimper into his mouth.

It felt like hours before his palm slid down the rise of your belly, torturous and tentative. Then finally, his hand slipped between your thighs. He traced the slickness of your core and you gasped in relief, felt as he greedily accepted the sound with his tongue.

There was something profoundly intimate about the way Azriel's eyes locked with yours as he worked his fingers inside you, something about how your foreheads rested against each other as he groaned. Az was watching you, observing every reaction to the movements he made. He kissed you throughout it, rotating between staring at you, molding your lips to his, and sucking on that sensitive area of your ear lobe; kissing alongside your neck as he praised you.

"Such a pretty mess," he murmured against your ear. "Does this feel good?"

He added another finger, thumb circling your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut, a desperate moan escaping your lips as the pleasure mounted. Then he was moving, pulling away from you as he descended down your body, following the trail of kisses and marks he'd left before. Azriel shifted his body, positioning himself right before your core, pushing your legs further apart to nestle between them. Your gaze fell to his hands, slick and glistening with your desire. For a moment he stilled, focused gaze as he watched his fingers disappear inside you.

And when he pulled them out, he spread the wetness further across your folds, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown with need. He was saying your name, praising you, watching as you squirmed at his touch.

"Azriel." You moaned out.

"Yeah, beautiful?"

You couldn't respond, weren't sure what you wanted to say.

“Jesus. Look at you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “So fucking pretty. Your body is perfect.”

You were torn between begging him to keep talking, to speak more and let his words roll over you, and begging him to touch you more, to feel him inside you, to fuck you.

With his eyes still locked on yours, he brought his mouth to your cunt, groaning in approval the moment he drew your essence into his mouth. His fingers slipped back inside you, finding a deep, aching spot, and your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Each tug on his hair elicited a low, approving groan from him, and you stored that information away, tucked it safely for a later time.

Your eyes fell shut as you neared the edge, body tensing with the imminent release. No, your mind echoed. Not yet. You let out a ragged breath, pulling at the curls on Az's head and pushing him away from your cunt. Azriel immediately loosened his hold on you, eyes shooting up to yours, brows furrowing with a growing concern.

“Not yet,” you managed, your voice breathy and urgent. “With you. On you. Please.”

The crease softened and his eyes grew dark again, hungry and blown wide. He grinned, hair tousled, lips glistening and swollen, and nodded in understanding. Az rid himself of the last piece of clothing he had, shedding his underwear as you drank in the sight of him before you. His naked form pressed against yours as he lay over you. You reached between you, wrapping your hand around him and stroking him slowly, tentatively. His answering groans were low and guttural, brows furrowing with each movement of your hand.

“Do you have—?”

He nodded toward your bedside table. “You should. Rhys’s mom was very serious about safe sex.”

His voice was rough like gravel, octaves below what he normally spoke. If you weren't already drenched by now, you would've been pooling at the sound alone. You let out a breathless laugh and Azriel managed to lean over to your left drawer— the one you’d never really used, never even bothered to check what might be in it. His fingers fumbled briefly before he pulled out a small foil packet. He ripped it open with still glistening hands, and you took it from him, rolling it over his length with careful precision. Pumping him once, twice. Savoring the sinful sounds leaving his lips.

He was bigger than you had anticipated and your mouth watered at the sight, at the fact that beyond just its size, it was pretty. You'd get your mouth on it soon, you told yourself, taste him just as he tasted you. You'd wrap your lips around his head, let him fuck your mouth the way he wanted, and taste his release with a greedy tongue. But not now.

Az maneuvered himself, a forearm near your head to hold himself as his other hand went in between you, replacing your hand with his own. You ran your freed palm along his chest, bringing it up to his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Az asked, eyes focused on you.

You almost laughed at the question, a smile forming on your face as you nodded. "For the love of god, please," you said, and you were sure it was the hundredth time you'd muttered the word. "I want you. I-I need you."

Az’s growl reverberated through you, a primal sound you’d never heard from him before. It sent waves of need crashing over your body. Your legs instinctively locked around his back, drawing him in as his cock pressed firmly inside you, an intense surge of pleasure that made you both gasp for air. You clenched around him, welcoming him and the stretch he provided, the sensation of him as he rolled his hips, as he bottomed out with another sinful groan. Azriel kissed you again and again as he moved, as he picked up the pace and you clawed at his back— nails digging into the ink that adorned his golden skin.

His mouth explored every inch of you—your nipples, your throat, your ear—before he covered your mouth to muffle your moans once more. You dug your heels into his back, fingers tangled in his hair as he pressed you firmly into the mattress with the snap of his hips. You were lost in the rising waves of sensation—his quick, sharp thrusts, the heat and sweat of your bodies moving together.

Faintly, you heard a soft whining, a mewl of pleasure. You realized, seconds later, it had come from your own throat; desperate and babbling, repeating Az's name like a prayer. He was everything now, every thought in your mind, filling every sense, his hands, his tongue, his cock.

You were so close, on the edge of something monumental, ready to fall and fall and fall. Azriel must have seen the desperation in your eyes as he started whispering in your ear, murmuring things that you knew would later make you blush and squirm, turn red and pink and every color between.

“Holy shit, yes,” he growled, “You feel incredible, Y/n.”

You clung to him, your breath mingling with his, praying that, somehow, through this shared rhythm, you could bind him to you forever. That this moment would make him truly yours, beyond just the physical, blending every part of him with every part of you.

"Talk to me, beautiful." He nipped at your bottom lip. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes, god, yes." You moaned and pulled him closer to you. As you separated from another hungry kiss, you reveled in the way his chain dangled over your face, in the way it swung as he fucked you. It was even better than you imagined, even hotter in every way. You clenched around him, shivered at the sound he made.

He looked beautiful. Face flushed and glistening with sweat, tousled hair falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with a look of pure adoration, a look you felt too soft to be reserved for you. It was a look meant for those that did great, praise-worthy things, a look for a lover and a soulmate. You stared at him, breathing heavily, taking in all that he was, and he looked at you back, took you in just as carefully. Then he smiled, reaching up and gripping your hands in his. He pressed gentle kisses along your cheeks and entwined your fingers with his, held them above your head.

"I'm so close,” you murmured, “So close.”

Azriel's eyes darkened. He brought his bottom lip between his teeth and his cock surged into you with such force that the bed groaned beneath you. You gasped, body going slack as he drove into you with relentless speed, each thrust so intense that you were left completely immobilized. His movements grew uneven, body trembling as he strained to hold back, his fingers pressing deeply into yours.

“Azriel.” His name was all you had. “Az. Az.”

He was buried deep inside you, trembling with the force of his release. “Come on, sweetheart,” he breathed heavily. "Come with me, baby."

You clenched at the name, at the way his words caressed your skin. Azriel cried out against your shoulder, his moan wavering like he was descending from a high. You felt his entire body shudder and you pressed kisses to his ear, cheek, and neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, maybe a little too roughly, but he only whimpered and slumped against you, his full weight pressing you into the bed.

He took deep breaths and you laughed as he blew your hair out of his face. A few moments later you loosened your hold on him, bodies reluctantly untangled, condom disposed, and you both shifted onto your sides. You leaned in to kiss him. His response was tender and unhurried, his lips moving against yours with a reverent slowness. His hands roamed over your back, your hip, and the curve of your ass.

Long after you cleaned up, as you laid against Az's bare chest and he played with your hair, that feeling of falling was still there, something exciting and equally terrifying. It filled your stomach, flowed through your veins.

You looked at Az, took in his contented smile, his eyes closed and peaceful as he held you, and you wondered if you truly knew what love felt like, wondered when it was too soon to decide you could never let someone go.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹  

authors note: your honor i do believe theyre falling in love. i also, do believe, that they boutta be fuckin like rabbits

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

As always, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[iamespecter]

TADC OCs: "The Die Quartet"!

"Oh but Ziku, who are these very handsome die?"

Well I'm glad nobody asked, because that would ruin the joke!

The Die Quartet are OCs of mine that I created for TADC, and for what purpose? Well, they're the minds behind show's music!

Hidden just behind a corner or two, or four, These obliviously mischievous and enthusiastic quartet play whatever music they can, one that certainly matches the current "mood" of what the cast is going through. Meet Cuba, Dodeca, Tetra, and Octa, The Amazing Musical Performers, for The Amazing Digital Circus!

LORE AND BOUNDARIES UNDERNEATH THE CUT!

When the Circus was initially created, it was feeling too barren for a place that's meant to be "lively". And so, Caine went and copy-pasted himself four times, while replacing the heads with some die props he found on the floor, retexturing and adjusting their bodies, to fit their new roles.

A little bit of a code rewrite to make them able of producing any sounds all on their own to be musically intertwined, and the quartet was basically ready to go: but there's only one problem.

Caine completely forgot to remove the admin privileges from their code.

So once the four spawned, they immediately began floating around, dancing and creating the main theme for the circus, and did it all perfectly. So Caine decided that as long as they don't interfere with anything major in the circus and did their job as the musical minds behind the show/game's soundtracks, he doesn't really care about fixing this error and would rather let these four run rampant to create more songs.

Ever since then, the Die Quartet has been messing with every circus members, most of the time playing obnoxious music that fits the "current mood". You'll even see their canes dance to the tempo they've set, like some backup dancers.

Think of it like: You now have x4 Caines with dice heads, flying and snooping around, so that they can "improve the mood" with their music! Ain't that swell??

(But really, all they do is just annoy the Circus members just like Caine does, for the better or the worse. Probably the latter.)

Fun facts about the Die Quartet!

Even though they've all been created at the same time and share the features of a die, they do not consider themselves as "brothers", and only see one another as colleagues instead.

Their names are related to the type of their die: Tetra (yellow), Dodeca (purple), Cuba (red), and Octa (green).

Despite being reused assets of Caine himself, they have distinct personalities that separate them from each other: Tetra is more joyful and playful, Dodeca is a more dramatic/theatric and over the top, Cuba is the natural lead and more stern than anybody, and Octa is the more closed off of the gang but willing to provide his best.

Yet, they all still lack awareness of personal space and boundaries just like Caine, and WILL be intrusive towards anyone they set their sights on, with the intent of predicting their mood and setting the current situation perfectly in musical form. (ex. if a character is sneaking, all four will follow "cautiously" behind while one imitates/pulls out a tiny piano playing to the theme of "tip-toeing". You know, like a cartoon gag.)

Although they can perfectly imitate ANY sound or instrument imaginable, They'll still pull out a "physical" instrument if the gag calls for it.

BOUNDARIES!

You can pretty much draw fanart of them! In fact I would REALLY love to see it and I encourage it! Really, just don't claim them as your own, or steal their designs.

NSFW of them is accepted, but please keep in mind that I have an SFW blog. Which means THERE ARE MINORS. Show them to me privately instead, I'd still love to see it <3

While NSFW is accepted (privately), please make it a morally decent one, because I don't really wanna see some disgusting stuff. This pretty much includes: non-con, scat, etc.

Aside from that though, I hope you all enjoyed these four! I really love how they turned out, and would love to draw them more. I was initially hesitant on showing my TADC OCs because I don't think people would like 'em, but fuck it.

My boys, they deserve to be seen even if just by a few people on the internet.

[sebscore]

PUT IT INTO SPEED DRIVE

pairings: charles leclerc x driver!reader // lando norris x driver!reader // george russell x driver!reader // alex albon x driver!reader

warnings: theft. swearing. talks about sexuality and a sexual reference. cops.

author’s note: the idea comes from this ask that someone send my lovely wife! 🥹 I changed it from a car to a camera, because I don’t want my poor baby to have her car stolen :((

masterlist

•••••••

“Now that you’ve won Monaco two times in a row, you’re too good to play with us?” Alex teased the younger one as she stood on the side of the public padel court.

Y/N stuck out her tongue at him. “Not the guy in a Williams trying to come for me.”

“Auwch.” Lando said to Alex, impressed by his friend’s comeback.

“We can only play with 4 people, and I’m sure Miss Monaco would love to be umpire.” George argued, giving the young woman an expectant look.

She quickly nodded at the tall Brit, holding her hand up to her head as if she were a soldier. “Yes, sir!”

“No! She can’t be umpire! She’s gonna call all my shots out.” Lando complained, pointing at her.

“She’s not, Lando.” Charles defended her, although there was a doubtful tone to his voice.

Y/N smirked at the McLaren driver. “Well, now I will.”

“See, Charles? We’re gonna lose now.” He told his doubles partner.

“I mean- you were gonna lose anyway.” George started the healthy competitive trash talk.

“OH!” Charles and Lando loudly chorused, pretending to be hurt by his words.

“Warm-up first, or do we just get straight into it?” Alex asked the three guys after everyone calmed down.

Charles, George and Lando glanced at one another. “Just get straight into it? It’s not like we’re gonna take this too seriously anyway.” George suggested, already knowing it would turn into a shit show soon.

Everyone agreed with a small chuckle, and started taking their own respective places on the court.

“Alright, who’s gonna serve?” Charles loudly asked.

“Wait! We should do it like they do in tennis! Deciding with a coin toss!” Y/N suggested.

“You have a coin?”

“I think I have one in my bag! Oh, I also have my camera with me, should we do like a before and after picture?” She snickered.

“That sounds good.” Alex stemmed in, the others nodding as well. “Yeah, I like it when I’m all sweaty and people take pictures of me.” Lando sarcastically joked.

“Basically our job.” Charles grinned.

“They should calm down on all the can-“

“HEY! THAT’S MY CAMERA!” Y/N’s shouting interrupted their small talk, their heads swiftly turning to where she was standing.

They were just about to ask for a clarification when they saw the young woman run after, what seemed, an unrecognizable man that was holding her camera.

“Y/N don’t do that!” George yelled to no avail, not wanting her to get hurt by the thief.

The quartet didn’t hesitate in grabbing their own stuff before running after their unhinged colleague- Lando also quickly took Y/N’s bag in his hands, figuring none of her other stuff should be stolen too.

The five of them watched in frustration as the mysterious man climbed into a car that drove away at high speed.

“We have to go after him!” Y/N yelled, agony on her face at the potential loss of the device. “Did someone come by car?”

Alex, Charles and George shook their heads, while Lando nervously glanced at his friend. “Uh, I did.”

“Norris, please?” She begged, growing more impatient by the second.

“Can’t you just by a new one? It’s really dang-“

“It’s the camera that you bought for me!” Y/N admitted, hoping it would convince the Brit to chase them down.

Fortunately, it worked. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Do all of us go or…?” Alex hesitated following the two youngest ones.

“Yes, Albono! The more, the better! We can ambush them!” Y/N loudly answered, resulting in the whole group following Lando to his car.

There was a collective disappointment as they made it to his car, not expecting his blue Jolly Fiat to be parked there.

Lando spoke up before anyone else could. “Look, if I had known we would be doing a Fast & The Furious, I would have come with another car. Get the fuck in.”

Lando got in the driver’s seat with Y/N taking taking the seat next to him as she knew where they had sped off to.

The three others were about to step in, but quickly found out that there were only 2 seats in the back. “Uh, someone is gonna have to stay behind.” George noted.

“Oh, no, someone can just sit on someone else, it’s fine, I’ve done it before.” Lando assured them.

Alex, Charles and George gave each other a nervous glance. “Uh, so who-“

“Come on, ladies! Get it before those assholes see all the ugly pictures I’ve taken of you guys.” Y/N’s words shut them up and they cramped into the backseats, Alex somehow ending on George’s lap.

“Let’s catch some thieves!” Lando shouted out, although the speed of his Jolly made the moment anti-climactic.

Meanwhile Y/N instructed Lando on where to go, Alex suggested someone call the police- which Charles decided to do since he had the best knowledge of the French language amongst the three of them.

“Why does this thing go so slow?” George criticized the car, a judging look on his face.

“They took inspiration from the Mercedes.” Lando bit back, not appreciating the slander of his car.

Alex, and Y/N snickered at the comment. “More like from Williams.” The youngest corrected.

“Hey, that’s enough!” Alex defended his team.

The attention went from Alex to Charles as he hung up the phone. “They’re gonna dispatch a team, and advised us to respect the rules of the road.”

“Fuck the rules, I want my camera back.” Y/N said, yelling at Lando as he almost went the wrong way.

“You’re not being a good navigator right now!” He screamed back.

She groaned at him. “I’m literally pointing at where you’re supposed to go!”

“You’re not pointing good enough!” The two 23 year-olds start bickering back-and-forth with one another, much to the dismay of the other three men in the small car.

“Why are they always like this?” Alex whispered to George and Charles.

The both of them shrugged their shoulders. “Unresolved sexual frustrations is my guess,” he mumbled, “at least on Lando’s part, I’m still not sure what Y/N is.”

The Williams and Ferrari driver snickered at George’s answer, somehow understanding what he was referring to.

“Are you gossiping about me, Russell?” Y/N suddenly turned around in her seat, catching the Brit off-guard.

He merely shook his head, his eyes widened.

“Good, you wouldn’t want the others to know what you’ve been up to.” Despite the sweet smile on her face, the threatening tone to her words made the Mercedes driver feel uneasy.

“THERE!” Y/N’s loud voice made the entire car flinch, Lando momentarily letting go of his steering wheel.

“Y/N ARE YOU CRAZY? WE COULD HAVE CRASHED!” Alex scolded the young woman, almost falling out of the car as he was still seated on George’s lap.

“I’m sorry, Albono,” she smiled sheepishly, “but look, the police stopped them.”

The four men in the car let out a collective sigh of relief, glad their adventure was over.

Lando parked the car on the side of the road, behind the thieves’ getaway car. They could see a cop walking over to them.

“You called?” He asked in French, glancing at the five of them.

The drivers shamelessly looked at Charles, the man internally rolled his eyes at them, but he answered his questions.

After some questions back-and-forth, Charles pointed at the woman in the passenger’s seat.

“Y-your camera?” The cop asked in a heavy French accent.

Y/N nodded her head, a polite smile present. “Yes.”

“Would you, uh, mind filling out a little paperwork in the combi? You’ll get your camera back as well and can check if there’s any damage.”

“Sure, no problem.” She gave her colleagues a smile, and made her way towards the large cop car.

The four drivers remained quiet as the cop didn’t follow Y/N, instead lingering around Lando’s car. “It’s a Jolly?” He asked.

“Yes!” Lando answered, cringing at his over-polite voice.

“Aren’t those for just four people…” The man gave the four of them a stern glance, raising an eyebrow.

They awkwardly chuckled, not knowing what to properly answer. “Uh, well, you know, our friend, she, uh-“

“I’ll let it slide, this one time only!” The cop raised his index finger, indicating this would be the one and only time he’ll let them get away with it. “And don’t speed around. I know you guys are Formula One drivers, but you also have to respect the rules.”

“Yeah, we will. Thank you so much.” George thanked him in name of everyone.

Y/N came walking back to the car, a happy look on her face as she had her camera back. “It’s not damaged!” She excitedly told them.

“That’s great, Y/N.” Lando was relieved his present for her hadn’t been broken.

“You guys are free to leave, but next time I’ll have to give you a fine, alright?” The cop reminded them one more time.

“It won’t happen again, thank you so much.” The group of five chorused several sayings of gratitude, before driving back to the sports center.

“Well, that’s going to be a fun story.” Charles snickered, dimples on display.

The others laughed, only then realizing how bizarre this whole situation was. “I don’t think people are even going to believe this.” George noted.

“Oh my god…” Y/N mumbled.

The heads of her four friends turned towards her. “What is it? Is something wrong with the camera?” Lando asked, concerned about the device.

“Those fuckers took a selfie with it!” She exclaimed, disbelief written all over her face.

“What?!”

“Look at this,” she handed it to the three guys in the back, the small screen showing the two men in their getaway car, “who fucking does that?”

“Well, at least we have proof now…”

[zzeraphilm]

Building Bridges

Regulus Black X Potter!F!Reader

Summary: After finding the note left behind R.A.B in the presumed Horcrux. The Golden Trio seek Sirius’ help in locating R.A.B, they end up finding him yet the reunion is not as expected. (Roughly set at the beginning of DH)

Note: Sirius didn’t die in Order of the Phoenix and Regulus didn’t die in the cave he just run off abroad to hide :p

I haven’t written for Harry Potter (ever) so apologies for any thing that might be out of character! ;-; i kept thinking about this rough idea during work

——————————————————————————

Harry looked up and locked eyes with his Godfather, Sirius had been silent the entire time. They were perched neatly in a two by two formation, his two best friends behind him and his only remaining familial tie. They had taken a portkey to the Scottish highlands, the icy gusts of wind cutting threw Hermione’s ponytail so high it nearly smacked Ron on the back of his head.

“Sirius, are you sure this is the right place?” Harry’s fingers clutched his forearms, rubbing them vehemently to produce some warmth.

In front of them was a lonesome cabin, mere metres away from the vast forest line that dotted along the coastal shores. Crashing waves hit the jagged rocks like the sound of an applause.

Sirius clutched onto the note the Golden trio had given him.

“For years I had questioned by brother’s last found writings. I am certain this is what he meant.”

The quartet marched ahead, the uneven stone path dug into Ron’s trainers, nearly tripping him, thankfully Hermione caught him by the seams of his jacket.

The door beyond had its metal hinges rusted beyond repair, a faint shadow of the number plate ‘8’ was the only reminisce of the original oak. Cracks and blackened mould painted over the door, weirdly however, the door knocker was untouched, no sign of usage or age. Despite Sirius’ persistence to wait to check the area, Harry banged his first against the wood, the booming shakes forced the door knocker to tap in sync.

There was a faint shout from within the cabin, heavy footsteps and whispers. Then silence.

The door creaked open, a woman tight lipped and furrowed eyebrows, her E/C eyes shot daggers towards Harry. She glanced at Ron, then Hermione and finally she focused on Sirius.

With a swift push, the door flung open revealing herself and a disheveled man behind her aiming his wand towards them.

“Sirius! Oh My! You’re alive!” She threw her arms around Sirius, behind Ron was flabbergasted, yet Hermione had her wand matched with the man behind the woman.

“Y/N, what are you- Regulus?” Before Sirius could enjoy his reunion with his long lost friend, he could only focus on his brother.

“Regulus Arcturus Black.” Harry spoke softly.

“Do not call me that,”

Regulus’ grip on his wand tightened with a slight shake in his wrist, his fingernails dug into his palms. “How did you find this place?”

Y/N took a few steps back and held onto Regulus’ raised arm gently easing it lower and lower.

“Darling, put your wand down. Your brother has finally come home yet you show him such malice. It has been years may we talk about this over tea,” her whisper felt like a soft hug unlike any other. “Please?”

After guiding the four to their small dinning table, Y/N left to the kitchen to boil the kettle. With only two chairs at the table, Harry, Ron and Hermione insisted on standing behind Sirius, who sat opposite his scowl faced brother.

After years of believing his brother’s death, Sirius now was sat face to face with the little boy he used to love. But they were both no longer just boys, now they were men, in the eye of a hurricane waiting for things to come to a crash. Regulus’ hair had become unruly, his curls was as just as untameable as Sirius’. His previously porcelain face, had deeply settled in scars and frown lines that framed his lips. He was far from the young boy destined for power and prestige. He now slept under a rotting roof with walls that could barely hold its own weight. Sirius was torn between grasping his brother after years of separation or running away from everything all over again. But war was coming and time was of the essence. They must leave Scotland for London by nightfall, with everything Regulus knew of the Dark Lord.

“Here, it’s just my own blend of floral herbs and spices. It is quite hard to purchase any professionally made tea round here. It tastes better with a bit of honey, don’t worry.” Y/N laid out two teacups, three short glasses and one tall glass full of her freshly brewed tea. In the middle of the table was a pot of honey with a teaspoon lodged inside. “Please bare with the glassware, we only have enough for the two of us.”

Regulus sat in silence, eyes closed lightly sipping his tea that had two teaspoons of honey mixed in.

“Let’s cut to the chase.” said Harry, Regulus still not paying him any mind, whilst Y/N’s eyes softened when he spoke.

“Regulus, we found this note in this locket signed R.A.B, your initials.” Hermione chucked the locket by its chain onto the table, skidding across to meet Y/N’s fingers. “We know its a fake. We need to know where the real one is now. Voldem-“

“Do not speak his name.” Despite his stern tone, Regulus had delicately placed his teacup onto the table with no splash.

“Under my roof, my home. You do not say that wretched name.”

Sirius slams his hands onto the table, abruptly standing up.

“Regulus, first you fake your death and now I find you cozying up with Y/N Potter, of all people! You are to give these children that bloody locket now or I will show you how Azkaban has changed me!” Sirius’ voice boomed against the four walls, leading Regulus to look up with a scowl.

“Brother,” the younger Black rose from his chair and stepped towards Sirius, in a matter of seconds he had grabbed the elder Black by his collar and slammed him against the nearby wall. His tongue spewed venom targeted his brother.

“You still remain as ill-tempered as always. You have no right to stand in front of me and disrespect my family. Leave whilst I show you mercy!” Regulus already had wand digging deep into Sirius’ throat, in response Sirius had gripped his younger brother’s wrist, attempting to claw his fingers away.

“Regulus! Stop it this instant!” Y/N screeched, pulling her husband away from his brother. Sirius dropped to the floor coughing, Regulus looked down at his brother with a glare, spat on the top of Sirius’ head and left the room.

Harry was left stunned in place. His Godfather looked like a shell of a man the moment he locked eyes with his brother. Now, his estranged aunt was comforting his Godfather after everything. How strange.

“Come, let’s move to the living room and we can all talk calmly there, without my husband.”

Ron turned to Hermione and whispered ‘husband?’ With his eyes darting across the room to focus on the many framed photographs of Y/N and Regulus. Hermione, as shocked as Ron was, merely shrugged and followed the adults to the front room.

Like the rest of the house, the sofa was barely useable, the longer they sat the further they sunk into the cushions. Harry, Ron and Hermione shared the three seater, Y/N perched at the edge of her armchair. Whilst Sirius leaned against the wall by the door with his head down, he felt beyond ashamed at his reunion with his brother.

Hermione coughed trying to clear the air of any tension, “Sorry that we didn’t get to have your tea Miss Potter- or uhm Black-“

“Y/N’s fine dear.” Her E/C eyes softened at the teenagers, they reminded her so much of her brother’s friends in their younger years.

“Y/N, how are you related to me? Sirius hasn’t spoken about you until earlier today.”

She gasped comically, clutching her chest to add to the act.

“Pads, you traitor! You were supposed to be my best friend!” She fake cried but Sirius looked up pleading to her with a string of unintelligible excuses. With a light chuckle her demeanour changed.

“No, in all seriousness I’m not surprised. You were never supposed to know about me Harry. We may be related by name, but not by blood. I was adopted into the Potter family, almost like dear Padfoot here.” Sirius huffed in response.

“I basically was already part of the family when I join you guys.”

Y/N chuckled sincerely this time, her left hand covering her smile, a noticeable silver loop around her finger.

“Yes and you ate all of my hidden chocolates by the third day you were with us!”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at this family’s banter. He was so used to the bickering and squabbling of the Dursleys’, and he hadn’t seen Sirius so animated with anyone but him and Remus.

“Harry, I wish I could’ve been there for you. But before your birth I had responsibilities that called for me that I could not disobey.” Y/N stood up and began to rummage through a chest of draws in the corner of the dimly lit room. She turned around and knelt by Harry’s knees placing a little cardboard box onto his lap. She began to slowly take out its belongings. An enchanted photograph, a notebook and a rusted Snitch.

“After my brother and his friends left for the Order, I tried to join but was vehemently denied by Dumbledore.” She lifted up the tattered notebook, “It would be too long to go into details but to summarise - he did not see me fit to fight alongside James. Instead I was given a separate mission that meant relocation to France. I too was tasked by Dumbledore to find a Horcrux, more so, I was tasked on recovering Regulus. I found both, clearly.” She placed the notebook back in the box and picked up the photograph.

“This was the last time I saw your father, my brother. 1979, their wedding. Look at how young we were Sirius!” She looked up, smiling lightly at the man holding back her tears, he now was leaning over the sofa looking at the photograph in her hand. It was the entire Marauder’s pack alongside Lily who hand her arms linked with Y/N’s both laughing towards the camera. Sirius had his arm slung over James’ shoulders whose tie and top button were undone. Remus and Peter were behind the two, ruffling James’ hair and chanting a silent hoorah for their union.

“That was quite a night, if I remember correctly you couldn’t stop crying at the reception. Saying how you always dreamed of having a sister and Lily was the perfect woman for the role. You were so drunk!”

“I was not!” Y/N screeched, Sirius only laughed in response.

The teens laughed at Y/N’s outcry. Harry kept watching the photograph loop, his parents and their friends could forever enjoy an eternal happiness in this photograph. He only wished he could experience all of their joy and warmth together in person.

“Ahem. As I was saying,” Y/N sat herself down on the armrest beside Harry. “I loved your parents Harry, I truly wish I was there for your birth, for everything. Unfortunately after that night, I had to fulfil my duty as Dumbledore’s foreign agent. By the time news reached to me of James and Lily’s death and Sirius’ arrest, it was too late. I was ordered to not contact you. So I,” With a deep sigh Y/N looked towards the hanging photograph of her and Regulus.

“I threw myself at work, by my fifth year of scouring the neighbourhoods of Europe, I finally found Regulus. And well, you can guess that happened next.” She dangled her ringed left hand over her knee.

“I never meant to keep everything a secret for so long, it became life consuming. By the time I had realised nearly 18 years had pasted, I was a different woman. I’m so sorry Harry.” Y/N clung onto her nephew in a tight embrace, tears dampening his shirt. He gripped her back in response as if she were to disappear from his arms. As they parted, Y/N’s sombre gaze started to brighten.

“Regulus means no harm to you three,” she turns to Sirius “Of course, you know your own relationship with your brother better than anyone else. I know you don’t plan on staying here any longer than you must, so let me handle it. Just stay here for a bit, I’ll get you the locket.”

Then she left the room, leaving behind an ear piercing silence.

“Do you think we could grab some food from the kitchen whilst she’s gone?” Ron uttered.

“I’m sure she won’t mind. Knowing her, she has probably hidden her snacks behind some bowls.” Sirius chortled, he drifted into the hallway and entered the kitchen.

He opened the cupboards one by one until he found Y/N’s fine china. And just as he guessed, she had placed a packet of custard cremes behind a stack of bowls. Still using the same hiding spot, shame there’s no chocolates this time. Before he could shut the cupboard door, he heard shouting from the slightly opened backdoor to the right of him.

“You have no idea what they’ve probably been through to even get here Reg!” Y/N was stood next to Regulus, who was smoking a cigarette and tapping his foot against the grass.

“He shouldn’t be here. I don’t care for the young Potter, he can do what he pleases with that damned piece of shit. I just don’t want to see him for one more second!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me! Don’t you dare speak ill about my nephew! And in case you forgot, you took my name! You’re a Potter now as well, he is your nephew! Don’t you care about your family? Your brother is here acting more of a father figure than anyone else could for that boy who has only known pain. You of all people should know what it’s like to live like that.” Y/N hand grabbed Regulus’ hand and lightly rubbed the back of his palm.

“…so he can be there for Harry but not me. Y/N, I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I can’t just let him back into my life like nothing happened. We left that world behind because of how much it has failed me. You. Us. I only planned my life with you in mind, not once did I consider my brother and now Harry to be there. It’s all too much. I just want things to go back to how it was. Back when it was just you and me.”

Regulus began to softly whimper, Sirius could see from the crack of the door Regulus’ shaking head of hair against Y/N’s shoulder, he saw his brother’s shoulders shake whilst he clung onto Y/N’s waist. Y/N lightly rubbed Regulus’ back with her right hand and patted his hair softly with her left. Just as he did when the two were children.

“I know darling, I know. But we’ll take it slowly. One step at a time. For now,” The two pulled back from each other, their foreheads pressed against one another. “We give them the Horcrux, and once it’s all over. We’ll invite them round for a proper meal. And we can finally clean up the place, yeah?” Regulus hummed a light tune and nodded, he closed his eyes and kissed Y/N’s lips delicately.

——————————————————————————

“Exactly as I suspected! Right behind the bowls,” Sirius returned to the front room before he could see the couple be affectionate to each other. The thought of his best friend’s sister and his brother together was still alien to him. He drew a biscuit from the packet and kept it between his teeth, then threw the whole packet at Ron who gladly caught it in his arms.

It was nearing sunset, they would’ve ideally made their way back to London by now. Harry couldn’t help but sit in silence admiring the photograph in his hands, clutching to it like a prayer.

Y/N and Regulus walk into the room, hand in hand. Before Sirius could utter an apology to his brother, the younger Black pushed his fisted hand towards him, then revealing Slytherin’s Locket in the palm of his hand.

“Take it. Take it and destroy it. Once you’re done with it. Y/N wants you back for a proper dinner.” Sirius slowly takes the chain of the locket, once the weight had been freed from Regulus’ hand, he unlocked his fingers from Y/N’s and disappeared back into the halls of their cabin. Y/N only looked towards them with a glint of hope.

“He’ll come round eventually, you know. He’s changed over the years.”

Whilst Hermione and Ron were nibbling at the biscuits, Harry turned around and stood to face his aunt.

“Y/N can I, can I keep this? Just for now, I’ll give it back once I come back to visit. I just, I really-“

Y/N only chuckled at her nephew’s nervous demeanour, “Of course love. Just make sure you look after it okay? Plus I’ll need you back here with your uncle here so we can take more photos to put up on my walls!”

Sirius, who was still chewing half of his biscuit interrupts “Actually I’m his Godfather,”

The H/C haired woman flipped her head around, “Since when? Why would James- Are those my custard cremes?”

——————————————————————————

“Goodbye Y/N! Goodbye Mr Regulus!” Ron waved as they walked down the stone path back to where they left the port key. He turned to Hermione, “You know maybe living out in the wild seems alright, you know? Pretty nice don’t you think?”

“You think you could make your own food and drink from just the bare essentials like Y/N?” The curly-haired girl retorted with a smile.

“Oh well no, maybe I could just conjure up something!” The two continued to bicker and laugh till the end of the path. Behind them Harry and Sirius stuck a few seconds longer to speak with Y/N.

“I’m sorry for the state of our cabin, my dear. I’ll make sure Regulus repairs all of the broken furniture before your return!”

A faint “I heard that!” echoed from the hallway. Y/N laughed and drew Harry into a hug, lightly patting his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon.” Harry squeezed her tightly and thanked her again softly, promising to return the moment he is finished with his goal. He turns back and rushes to his friends.

Y/N steps back and turned to Sirius. “Pads, tell me who else is left from us lot?”

“Ah well, Moony’s still kicking, still part of the Order.” The two laugh at the thought of their shared memories. A light sigh trails the end of their joy.

“Merlin, things really have changed so much now. I heard that it was Peter, yes?”

Sirius nodded, still resentful towards his traitorous friend yet his eyes gleamed with sorrow. Y/N rubbed his forearm in response to comfort him.

“You’ve got us now. Reggie will take a while, but you’ve got Harry and me. We’re family now. So, don’t be a stranger okay?”

After a lifetime apart, the two friends hug as if it was their last day at Hogwarts all over again. As Sirius walked back to the teenagers ready to go back to London, he took one last look at the cabin behind him. From an upstairs window, he saw his brother. The two nodded at each other, either out of pure politeness or an unconscious agreement to meet again, to rebuild what was lost.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

The Castells - Some Enchanted Evening 1963

"Some Enchanted Evening" is a show tune from the 1949 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific. The song is a three-verse solo for the leading male character, Emile, in which he describes first seeing a stranger, knowing that he will see her again, and dreaming of her laughter. In the original Broadway production, "Some Enchanted Evening" was sung by former Metropolitan Opera star Ezio Pinza. Pinza won the Tony Award for Best Actor in 1950 for this role, and the song made him a favorite with audiences and listeners who normally did not attend or listen to opera. In the 2001 London revival of the show, Philip Quast won an Olivier Award for Best Actor for his role as Emile, and seven years later, international opera singer Paulo Szot won a Tony for his portrayal in the 2008 New York revival.

The Castells were a male vocal quartet from Santa Rosa, California, best remembered for their hits "Sacred" (number 20 on the Billboard chart in 1961) and "So This Is Love" (number 21 in 1962). Their sound blended light rock with elements of collegiate vocal harmony and jazz.

Their version of "Some Enchanted Evening" was used twice in the first episode of the Fallout tv series; at Lucy's wedding dance and during the raider massacre in Vault 33. It is also included on the official Amazon Music playlist "Music from Fallout" promoting the series.

"Some Enchanted Evening"received a total of 62,4% yes votes!

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. Enjoy reading. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance.

AO3 LINK TWO

ONE

The same nightmare every night, recurring in your mind as if it were an impossible memory to forget. A large part of the Quileute tribe killed by the hands of the one you will someday love. Not that your love story with Edward Cullen was worth anything. After all, he is a vampire. You are a descendant of a lineage of shapeshifters who transform into wolves. What could go right in this story? You've been driving for about two hours to reach Forks. It's been a month since you started having nightmares involving the tribe to which you belong and your ex-boyfriend. So, you decided to return to Forks to see your friends and those who are like family to you and, if possible, stay as far away as possible from Edward Cullen.

"If you had picked up your phone, Sam, you'd know I'm almost there. But since you didn't, just know I'm entering Forks now. I'll head to La Push as soon as possible." You say, leaving a message on Sam's voicemail. He knew you'd be arriving soon but didn't know exactly when. In fact, it was his idea for you to return to Forks. As your nightmares have become more frequent, you're so sleepy that you can barely tell how you're still managing to drive.

And then, like flashbacks in your mind, your moments with Edward and the pack you were part of come to the surface. You remember how you met Edward amidst a fight between the Quileutes and the Cullen vampires. One of them had accidentally crossed the border that separated the vampires from the wolves. It was chaos. Your father, who was alive at the time, was very angry and considered killing a Cullen to show that invading Quileute territory was a bad idea. Luckily, Jacob's father was more sensible. Edward read your mind for the first time that day. He knew you were curious about what the Cullens were doing crossing the border that separated the two enemies. So later, at the border, he found you and explained. Jasper had been hunting an unknown vampire who had hurt Alice and ended up crossing over. That was the first time you wondered if a vampire was okay, and when Edward noticed your slight concern for Jasper, he believed you were different. Amidst your moment of recollection, you lose concentration. But you only realize this when your car hits someone hard. You're dazed by the impact, but as soon as you look ahead, you feel a certain relief. Edward is right in front of you, staring at you with a curious look as if he doesn't quite understand that it's really you.

"What are you doing, Cullen?" you ask in an enraged tone. Of course you're angry. He's a vampire, unscathed after the collision with your car, while your car and you have suffered some impact. I mean, you can feel blood trickling near your right eye, but the damage to your car is definitely more significant.

"It's going to sound strange. Alice had a vision that saw me doing this as soon as you arrived here. I'm not saying I did it on purpose. In fact, I am hunting. But you really are here." Edward speaks as if he still doesn't quite understand that you're actually in front of him. You take a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to kill him for what happened to your car. In reality, you're unsure whether you should get out of the car or not. You're bleeding, and that could be a challenge for Edward.

"I'm not going to attack you, don't worry. I thought you knew I would never do something like that to you. I mean…" Edward says, and you automatically get out of the car, walking toward him. Something about the proximity between you leaves both of you speechless. You always hated when Cullen listened to your thoughts, and he knows that. The courtesy of having your private thoughts respected seemed to be valid only during your relationship.

"You mean you wouldn't attack anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. I know, I know you, Edward. What surprises me is the fact that you don't seem to know me. You know I hate when you… never mind. Maybe you only respected me while we were together. Now we're strangers to each other." You say, realizing how different he seems, even though he hasn't aged a day since the last time you saw him.

"I'm still the same, Y/N. The same guy you walked away from years ago." Edward speaks softly but with a certain sadness in his words. You look at him, unsure of how to respond. Yes, you ended your brief relationship out of fear of what your father would do to him if he found out.

"Look, I didn't intend to bring the past back. I think it's better if you go your way and I go mine." You say, turning to leave and drive your somewhat damaged car. But Edward appears in front of you before you can open the door.

"Carlisle can take care of that for you. I know he'd be glad to see you again." Edward says, stepping a little closer to you. You stare at him, this time not understanding what he wants. It's obvious he's talking about the injury on your head, but you don't understand why he seems so reluctant to distance himself.

"And I should go to your father figure and ask him to help me based on what? The fact that you and I were together years ago? The fact that my tribe has no idea what happened between us? Maybe I should go ask him how he feels about seeing you about to marry a human. What do you think, Edward?" Your tone is absurdly ironic but realistic. Just the fact that you're here now with Edward could jeopardize everything. If Sam or Jacob see you here with him talking about your past relationship, it could cause a mess. Not to mention that Cullen is now committed.

"I caused this in you. Maybe you should go to Carlisle for the same reason anyone in this town would. You've had an accident, Y/N, you need to take care of this." Edward says, gently touching the area where you got hurt. You let out a soft groan of pain and then pull away.

"How do you suggest I deal with the complications that going to Carlisle would bring me?" You ask, almost grumbling. Edward smiles slightly, as if he even misses these conversations you used to have when you were together.

"Do you remember the farthest spot from here where we used to meet when we were dating? Meet Carlisle there when you can. Unfortunately, Jacob is already on his way here, and I think it's better if I'm not here when he arrives." Edward speaks, and before you can say anything in response, he's already gone.

"Your cowardice is remarkable!" You shout, hoping he hears you. As you turn around, Black is behind you. He's clearly sweaty, must have come running in his human form.

"What happened to you, Y/N?" Jacob Black asks, quickly approaching you. He must be worried because you're injured and apparently talking to yourself in the middle of the road.

"I had an accident. I hit an animal, actually. It was quite a mess. How did you know I was here?" You ask curiously as Jacob gets closer to you, analyzing and sniffing you. You wonder if you smell bad, but then remember that Edward was here just a little while ago.

"Since when did you learn to lie to me? I thought we were honest with each other." Jacob says, looking into your eyes, and you feel guilty for lying to him.

"You want to have a relationship argument here? Then it was better not to have come at all. If you could excuse me." You say, walking past Jacob and heading towards your car, but he gently grabs your hand before you can open the car door.

"I missed you," Jacob says as he gently strokes your hand. You look at him and then walk towards him, embracing him.

"I missed you too, more than you can imagine. How about you drive what's left of my car to La Push, so we can have a better conversation?" You say, hugging him tighter, as if you didn't want to let go. It's strange, but seeing him safe made you feel better. After dreaming so many times about Jacob's death, it's good to see him like this.

"I'll drive your old tin can here. You can sit comfortably in the passenger seat. And don't worry, I'm sure there will be some bandages for you there." He says, kissing your cheek and opening the passenger door for you. You get into the car and watch him enter the car and take the wheel. He starts driving, and you slowly begin to close your eyes, hoping that now that you're in Forks, your nightmares won't come true.

[adventuringblind]

Fair Play

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Logan Sargent x Liam Lawson

Genre: fluff and crack (Look! I can write fluff!)

Summary: The quartet try to have a fun night out which lands them a trip to the emergency room.

Warnings: a hospital trip and Liam being an absolute menace

Notes: For @bad268, I hope you like it! I would like to point out that I've been to maybe two fairs in my life so this might be inaccurate.

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Going to a fair is not something the group gets to do often. The racing season keeps them all busy. The quiet moments are few and far between.

But it's summer break, and they have time to indulge themselves for a night. A nice relaxing night to forget about things and just enjoy each other's company. Like nothing could possibly go wrong.

How wrong they were.

"Haven't been to one of these in forever." Logan pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The colder air of the night breeze ruffling his hair.

Oscar, determined to stay in his eternal summer, is in his usual attire. "Have any of us ever been?"

"I've been a couple of times when I was younger." Says the female. Liam is spinning her around as they attempt to walk forward. "I was terrible at all the games and never won anything, though."

The three boys stop in their tracks. There is a playful smirk on each of their faces. "I swear, if you three make this a competition, I will lose it."

Liam drops his mouth open in feigned exasperation. "What if the intent is to be corny and win you a prize or something!"

"Well then, that's fine. I won't say no to being spoiled."

Liam hands her off to Logan as they make their way inside. The American is the gentlest of the three. He always makes himself available for comforting hugs.

The boy's beeline straight to where the games are. Not even sparing a glance in the direction of anything else. Typical competitive spirits. Three weeks with no racing means they have to get it out somehow.

She looks at Oscar in a desperate attempt to get his attention. Liam and Logan have launched themselves into another game and are not currently paying attention.

"What do you say to ice-cream, Osc?"

"I say lovely."

The two signal to the other boys and say they'll be back. Already wrapped up in their activity, they pay them no mind. Liam is gesturing wildly with his hands. A good indicator they won't notice they are even leaving.

"I feel like this is a bad idea."

"What is?"

"Leaving them on their own."

Liam and Logan are staring down some kind of bebe riffle shooter game. Not because of the game itself, but because of the prize they could potentially win.

The massive teddy bear sits behind the counter, taunting them. It's begging to be in the arms of another. Specifically, in the arms of their girl. It's begging to be cuddled by her.

"This should be easy for you, Lo!" Liam snickers and takes up a spot. "Being American and all."

Logan rolls his eyes, face completely blank. "Yes Liam, your over used joke is so funny and I'm laughing so hard." He can't keep the straight face for long and both boys end up laughing at themselves.

Liam picks up the rifle and is instructed to take a test shot. He attempts, with nothing to show for it. Logan descends further into laughter.

"Would you like a hand from someone who knows guns?" Liam groans as Logan takes a step forward.

"Maybe it's jammed-"

The plastic gun makes a clicking sound. Logan lets out a yelp and clutches his wrist. "Liam..."

"Logan, listen, we can talk this out!"

"You asshole! You shot me!"

In the distance, the other half is carrying back ice-cream for them. The sudden yelp causes the female to startle and nearly drop the two cones she is holding.

Oscar is somewhere between a laugh and a pained sigh. "I told you it was a bad idea."

She takes another lick from her ice-cream and look directly into Oscar's eyes. "I regret nothing."

Liam is trying desperately to fight back a laugh as the group converges together.

The female ditches her ice-cream in Liams hands and inspects Logans wrist. "You hurt the baby, Liam! How could you?”

“Y/n, he’s the oldest.”

“Doesn’t matter! Liam hurt the baby.” She begins to walk away with the boys in tow. “We’re heading to emergency because I don’t feel like hearing about this from Alex if Logan is hurt.”

Liam is trying to drive while Oscar sits passenger side still holding ice-cream. It’s dripping down his fingers at this point. An entertaining sigh to the two in the back.

Liam looks over at a red light, leans in obnoxiously close, and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey Osc, can I lick it off your fingers?”

“Liam, I swear to god-“

The light turns green and Liam is once again speeding off to the nearest A&E.

The wait inside is long enough for them to actually finish the melting treat. People give them weird looks, but they are wrapped up in their own little bubble and couldn’t care less.

The nurses all giggle as they retell the story of what happened. The injury is hardly serious, but they wrap it all nice anyway. They ask if Logan would like a band aid at one point and he just groans (he whispered yes right before they left).

“You realize nobody is ever going to believe us, right?” Oscar looks towards Logan’s hand with raised eyebrows.

Logan groans again. “Do they have to? Could be our secret.”

As the female lifts Logan’s hand to her mouth to ‘kiss it better’, she leans over to whisper to him. “I don’t we can hide this one, babe. You have a crayon band-aid on.”

“Yeah, no, I’m telling everyone about this.”

“It was your fault!”

[agaypanic]

The Fella Part 11 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

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Summary: As prom approaches, the girls find a strange friend in the new Our Lady Immaculate student. 

A/N: ahhhh only one chapter left!!! i usually don’t say the word count in fics, but this is the longest chapter of The Fella and possibly my longest fic to date, its almost 9k words long. So just a warning for yall. like the last few chapters, thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of this episode for me. Some suggestive stuff (not talking about michelle lol), but the characters are 17 and it’s not explicit. If you’re gonna be like “this surprise character you put in totally wouldn’t do this” just keep it to yourself bc i can do what i want, im the god of my creation (im so fucking crazy)

***

School formals were always exciting. At least, if you went with exciting people. And if it was a formal at the end of the year, it was even better because you could celebrate school ending and a summer of fun beginning.

One of the reasons Y/n and her friends were looking forward to the end of term was because they wouldn’t have to hear Jenny Joyce’s horrendous singing for a few months. Everyone in the assembly seemed to share their sentiment as they all stared at the stage, uninterested and displeased. It didn’t help that the girls were dressed in striped suit jackets, making them look like some sort of barbershop quartet. Y/n cringed as Jenny and her friends sang their last note, which wasn’t very good.

There was a slight pause, and Sister Michael looked relieved that this was the song’s end. “Lovely…” It was clear that she didn’t really think so. “And I believe you wrote the lyrics yourselves, is that correct?”

“It is indeed, Sister,” Jenny responded smugly.

“Makes sense,” Y/n muttered to her friends. “It was a load of shite.” They all made quiet sounds of agreement before turning their attention back to the stage.

“Do you ever think you might have too much time on your hands, girls?” Jenny and her group didn’t respond, but there was a murmur of giggles among the crowd as Sister Michael stood from her chair. “Lose the jackets.” She said, dismissing them from the stage before stepping up to the microphone. “Okay, just a couple of things. Firstly, I’d like to introduce Mae Cheung. Can you make yourself known, please, Mae?”

A few rows before the girls, a hand slowly and awkwardly rose into the air in the middle of the crowd. Everyone tried to get a good look at her, but it was difficult since most people could only see the back of her head.

“Miss Cheung’s family have recently moved here to Derry, so I hope you’ll all make her feel very welcome. It’s bound to be a bit of a culture shock, Mae. Things are done differently in this part of the world. But I’m sure you’ll soon feel as at home here as you did back in your beloved Donegal.” There was a beat of silence before Sister Michael remembered the other announcement she needed to make. She pulled out a piece of paper, looking at the crowd before reading it. “Announcement from Jenny Joyce and the dance committee: ‘The school social event for the year is fast approaching, but before you… don your glad rags… and- boogie- on- down…’” She sighed, looking at the paper appalled. “I’m sorry, I simply cannot read this.” She stepped away from the microphone, giving Jenny Joyce the paper before sitting in her chair.

Jenny eagerly went to the mic, showing too much energy and enthusiasm for a Monday morning with her big grin and little dance moves as she spoke. “But before you don your glad rags and boogie on down, we’d like to let you in on our little secret. We’re not actually gonna have a school formal this year.”

The assembly went into an uproar, and rightfully so. There were some murmurs of disbelief and booing, and Jenny waved her hands around with a smile.

“No, listen. We’re not gonna have a school formal. We’re gonna have…” As she paused for effect, her three friends started singing ‘doo-be doo’s in the background. “A fifties prom!”

That caused even more of a reaction. Michelle and Y/n were pretty vocal about this silly decision, gaining the attention of Sister Michael. “Girls!” She said, effectively quieting the large room. She addressed all the students, but her somewhat mischievous gaze was on Y/n and Michelle. “If you have any feedback, you can find Miss Joyce after assembly.”

“I know, I know.” Jenny laughed off everyone’s reactions. “But I do love a theme. Sure, isn’t that why they call me the Theme Queen?”

The girls looked at each other, confused. “Who said that?” Y/n asked.

“Do they?” Clare questioned.

“Do they fuck.” Michelle answered.

Jenny continued, not having heard their little conversation. “We wanted to have a real, old school, retro, vintage vibe, so feel free to just go for it!”

“Feel free to kiss my hole,” Michelle muttered.

After being released by Sister Michael, the girls and James walked through the hallways, discreetly looking for someone. Turning into one of the halls with a wall of lockers, Clare gasped.

“There she is.” Everyone saw the new girl, Mae, at her locker. Clare turned around to face her friends, filled with her usual frantic energy. “Okay, so, I say we just go over there and be ourselves, girls. Well, not totally ourselves. We should definitely be a bit ourselves. We could also pretend we’re sort of better than we actually are, so, I supposed what I’m saying is we could present a version of ourselves as less-”

“Shit.” Y/n finished the sentence, giving Clare a much-needed break to breathe.

“Precisely.”

“Why do we even have to talk to her?” Michelle asked, her crabby mood from having to listen to Jenny earlier still present.

Clare rolled her eyes, thinking the answer was obvious. “Because she’s new, Michelle.”

Michelle groaned. “I hate people I don’t know.”

“Aw.” Y/n cooed, putting an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Does that mean you love us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She answered, shoving Y/n’s arm off.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed, she happens to be Chinese.” Clare continued. “I mean, how class would it be to have a Chinese friend?”

“We could keep her in my toy box.” Y/n and Erin looked at their cousin with alarm.

“No, we couldn’t, Orla.”

“That’s kidnapping, I’m pretty sure.”

“She’d definitely fit,” Orla said adamantly.

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine.” Michelle was clearly ignoring the strange side conversation. “But can we agree it’s on a strict one-in-one-out basis? If she joins the group, James has to leave.”

Everyone responded in agreement, except for Y/n and James, of course. The girls made their way over to the new girl, leaving the couple confused.

“Excuse me?” James said to no one in particular, but then frowned at his girlfriend. “Are they serious?”

Y/n snorted, grabbing James’ arm. “Probably.” Without further elaboration, she pulled the boy towards the rest of their friends. Despite only being separated for a short time, it seemed that James and Y/n had missed some secondhand embarrassment from Clare’s brief interaction with the new girl, Mae.

Mae stared at Clare for a moment before looking at the group. “Is she alright?”

Michelle leaned down to Clare’s ear, rolling her eyes. “Burnin’ for you, Clare.”

“It’s Cantonese.” Clare stuttered out to Mae.

“Right. Well, I’m from Donegal, and we speak English there.”

“If you say so, Mae,” Michelle said. “But I spent a summer in Killybegs, and seriously, not a fuckin’ word.” Y/n elbowed her friend in the side, making a comment about how that might’ve been more of an issue with Michelle’s intelligence than with the town of Killybegs.

Clare smiled kindly at Mae, trying to amend the awkward situation. “We just wanted to introduce ourselves and-”

“-Okay, I think I see where this is going.” Mae interrupted, holding up her hand to further silence the short blonde. “I get this a lot. Dull, white girls want me to join their gang because, well…” Mae gestured to herself to finish the point. 

“We’re not dull,” Erin argued.

“Sure.”

Y/n pointed to James. “And he’s a boy.”

“A man, Y/n.” James corrected, as if he had had this conversation many times. “I’m a man.”

“Woah.” Mae almost laughed. “She has a really fucked up accent.”

“We know,” Michelle said with a sigh.

James leaned into his girlfriend, slightly offended. “I’m not a girl; I’m a man.”

“Sure you are, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting his cheek before focusing back on the main conversation.

Mae sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking the group over with a judging look. “What’s in this for me?” She asked. “What do you bring to the table?”

Orla held out her hand. “Six cream crackers?”

Y/n snatched one of the crackers and put it in her mouth, looking at Mae. “Five cream crackers.” She corrected. Mae raised her brow at the two girls.

“I’m good for cream crackers, thank you.” Her tone was filled with sass, but Orla didn’t catch it, so she just shrugged and put them back in her pocket. Mae slammed her locker closed and gave the girls one last look. “I’ll see you around, girls.”

The group disappointedly watched her walk off. Except for Orla, because the girl was an optimist through and through. “Maybe we don’t need a Chinese person.” She said. “We’ve still got a lesbian.”

Suddenly, Mae whipped her head back around. “What? Who?” She quickly walked back to the girls. Timidly, Clare raised her hand.

“Me.”

Mae didn’t look too convinced. “Really? You don’t look like a lesbian.”

Y/n put a protective arm around Clare, almost standing in front of her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked inquisitively. Mae’s sudden interest and then questioning of Clare being a lesbian was making Y/n wonder if the girls should even try to get her to be their friend.

Mae seemed to ignore Y/n, instead giving Clare a once-over. “It’s just that you’re a bit… short.”

“Well, there’s no height restrictions.” Clare rebutted before glancing at Y/n a bit anxiously. “As far as I’m aware.”

“Interesting.” Mae started looking like she was putting together a scheme in her head. “I’ve always wanted a gay friend. I mean, ideally, a fella-”

“Oh, we’ve got one right here.” Michelle laughed, pointing to her cousin. He and Y/n looked at her with exasperation.

“I’m not gay!”

“He’s not gay!”

“Howdy, folks.” The girls recognized the voice instantly, cringing at the sight of Jenny Joyce, who had now intercepted the entire interaction. Michelle made her distaste for the girl known with an eye roll and a little curse. Jenny ignored it. “I’m Jenny. This is Aisling.” She pointed to the tall brunette who seemed to always be by her side. “We just thought we’d introduce ourselves and see if-”

Clare jumped between Jenny and Mae, throwing her arms out to shield the new girl from Jenny. “Too late, Jenny. She’s ours.”

“I see,” Jenny responded, looking amused and alarmed by Clare before looking back to Mae. “Look, these girls are great, but I do have a pen pal from the Caribbean, so perhaps my circle is a bit more diverse.”

“Back. Off.” Clare seethed, her intensity starting to startle her friends.

Jenny managed to hand Mae a piece of paper with her phone number scribbled on it. “Think about it. Give me a call.” She was finally about to walk away when she remembered something and spun back around to the group. “Oh! And F-Y-I, the Prom Queen vote closes today.”

“F-Y-I, nobody gives a shit,” Michelle remarked.

Aisling held out a piece of paper, waiting for someone to take it. “Here’s the wee ballot.”

Erin snatched it quickly, rolling her eyes when she read the list of candidates. “I see you’ve thrown your hat in the ring, Jenny.”

The girl waved her hand, her humility clearly faked. “I had my arm twisted, but feel free to tick my box.” Then she finally left, Aisling in tow.

Y/n snorted. “I didn’t know Jenny was like that.”

“Dirty bitch.” Michelle added, shaking her head.

***

After school, the girls decided to go to the shopping center instead of straight home. After all, they had much to discuss. After hopping off the bus, they started their trek into town. 

“This prom is going to be a full-blown dick fest.” Michelle started, the word ‘prom’ catching everyone’s attention. “Y’know there’s not even gonna be a DJ? Apparently, Jenny’s hired this fuckin’ pensioner band.”

“Fucks sake.” Y/n sighed.

“Christ, really?” Erin asked.

Michelle nodded. “I heard the drummer is at least thirty.” Seeing the smirk she wore when dropping that piece of information, Clare’s mouth dropped in horror.

“I don’t feel so bad about missing it now,” James said, feeling a sense of relief. “It clashes with my thing.”

Y/n confusedly looked at her boyfriend, unaware of what his ‘thing’ was. But before she could ask, Michelle rolled her eyes and looked back at her cousin. “The creep convention? Seriously?”

“It’s not a creep convention!”

Michelle shrugged, clearly not convinced. “Well, I think a load of perverts gettin’ together to wank over some fella who fights hoovers and rides aliens in a telephone box, is the very fuckin’ definition of a creep convention.”

James scoffed. “It’s a Doctor Who night. Me and my stepdad used to watch it when I was little.”

“Well, someone should’ve called Social Services then, James.”

“You’re not going to the prom then, James?” Clare asked, seeming offended. He shook his head, and Clare looked over to Y/n, who was already looking at her with a confused and disappointed look.

Eventually, the group reached the shopping center. The conversation moved to the topic of dates, or lack thereof.

“I have no clue who to ask.” Clare sighed, a bit frustrated. “I’d ask James, but-” She cut herself off, remembering that she was the only one completely aware of the relationship between James and one of her best friends. 

“But you’re not desperate, Clare.” Michelle finished her sentence with a laugh. “And tell me about it. There’s at least five fellas who fancy the arse off’a me, but I just can’t choose.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the same,” Clare responded with a grumpy face and monotonous tone.

Erin nudged the small blonde with her elbow. “I’ll be your date, Clare.”

“But, Erin, people might talk. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Let them.” She said proudly, head held high. “We need to break down these ridiculous conventions.”

Y/n would’ve commented about her sister’s somewhat fake activism, but she kept her mouth shut after seeing the hopeful look on dear Clare’s face. “Thank you.” 

Erin would have responded to Clare if she hadn’t caught sight of a familiar face. Through the window of the cafe the girls were walking to, Erin could see a boy about their age sitting at a far table with a girl, and they both looked somewhat miserable. “Oh God, John-Paul’s over there,” Erin said stiffly, turning around to look at her friends. “Christ, but it’s been so awkward since we broke up.”

“For fuck’s sake, Erin,” Michelle said, remembering the event a bit differently than how Erin was painting it. “He kissed your cheek at Kerry Coyle’s sixteenth birthday party.”

“Didn’t he pass out in his own boke?” Y/n asked, recalling the embarrassing moment. “Feckin’ lightweight.”

Erin looked over her shoulder back at John-Paul. “Yeah, he missed that boat, alright.”

“Come on already.” Michelle opened the door, pushing the girls into the cafe. “I’m fucking starving.”

James was about to go inside but was held back by Y/n. The door closed after Orla, leaving the couple outside.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” James asked, as curious and thoughtful as ever.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the convention?” 

James cringed at the twinge of hurt in her voice, realizing that he had never told her about the Doctor Who convention and how it was the same night at prom. “I… forgot?”

“You’re really gonna go?” Y/n didn’t want to start a fight over this, but she thought her boyfriend would have debated between prom and the convention, or tell her that he had plans at the very least. James nodded. “I just thought that, you know, prom is usually a couple’s thing. And we’re a couple. I thought it might be fun to go together.”

“I can go to prom if you want me to,” James said, wanting to please his girlfriend. 

But that caused the opposite reaction. Y/n shook her head, a slight frown appearing on her face. “I don’t wanna force you to go, James. You can obviously go to the convention if you really want to. I just…” She sighed, getting a little worked up. “I just wish you would’ve told me first, that’s all.”

James nodded apologetically. “I was going to, Y/n, I swear. It just slipped my mind.”

“It’s fine.”

The two stood outside the cafe door, wondering if there was anything more to say or if they should go inside. 

“You know, just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you don’t have to go,” James said, giving his girlfriend a hopeful look. “I mean, if you want to go, of course.”

Y/n nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Another pause. “We’re okay, right?”

The slightly scared look on James’ face, like he had done something wrong, made Y/n place her hands on his cheeks and sweep her thumbs over his cheekbones in a comforting motion. “Of course, we’re okay, Jamie.” To emphasize the point, she gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his face and grabbing his hand. “Now let’s go inside, I’m hungry.”

When they entered the cafe, James walked Y/n to the table their friends were sitting at and pulled out a chair for her to sit in before going to the counter to order for the both of them. “She is not a model!” Erin responded sharply to something Y/n had missed.

“Who’s not a model?” She asked quickly, and her friends looked at her like they didn’t realize she had just now entered the conversation.

“Cara something,” Michelle answered, not very discreetly pointing over to the girl sitting with John-Paul. “The girl that that John-Paul fella is pokin’. Heard she’s gonna be on Baywatch.”

“Oh yeah, I heard that too.”

Erin groaned in frustration, looking at her sister. “Get real, Y/n. She’s not gonna be on Baywatch.”

“It’s just what I heard.”

“Oh my God.” Clare seemed to be the only one still paying attention to John-Paul and the supposed Baywatch model. “Looks like they’re breaking up.”

The girls looked at the couple. Erin almost snapped her neck with how fast she turned her head. “Jesus, are they really?” She wondered aloud, a bit too hopefully. “Are they breaking up?” Cara got up and left the table, leaving a broken-hearted John-Paul to watch her walk away. Erin’s eyes also followed the girl, but she seemed much more gleeful about Cara’s departure. “They are. They’re breaking up. This is class!”

“What?” Clare asked, being the voice for the perplexed group of girls.

“Later.” 

As soon as Cara was out the door, Erin jumped out of her seat and sped over to John-Paul.

“What’s class?” James startled the girls as he set some food and drinks on the table before sitting in the empty chair beside Y/n.

“Remember how we were talking about that lad John-Paul?” Y/n asked, taking a sip of her drink as James nodded. “Well, him and the girl he was with, who’s gonna be on Baywatch, by the way, broke up, and she left him. So now Erin’s swooped in like a vulture.”

“She has no respect for herself,” Michelle commented, looking over the menu on the table. “And coming from me…”

“That is bad.” Clare frowned.

“Terrible even,” Y/n added.

“Exactly.”

Clare, Orla, and Michelle soon got up and went to the counter to order. This gave Erin privacy to bother John-Paul, who looked like he was seconds away from a breakdown, and allowed Y/n and James to have lunch and talk in peace. 

“Can I have a bite of your sandwich?” The girl asked, pointing at the nibbled-on food in front of James.

“If I can have a bite of your doughnut.” He responded, pointing his own finger to the sweet treat.

The couple nodded in agreement and held their food to each other’s mouths. They took a bite at the same time, mumbling about how good the food was while chewing.

“What’re you doing?” Michelle asked, her lip curling in a slight snarl as she, Clare, and Orla came back to the table.

“What?” Y/n asked, not noticing James taking a second bite of her doughnut.

“You’re looking like you’re going out or something,” Michelle explained, wagging her finger between the two teens. “It’s making me sick. Like, if someone thought I was goin’ out with James, I think I’d kill myself.”

“Hey!”

“Well, he is your cousin, Michelle.” Y/n laughed. 

Her friend shrugged and sat down, muttering about how the English thing was worse before talking to Clare about something else. With the attention off of them, Y/n reached down to squeeze James’ hand and smiled at him. But the smile was soon wiped off her face when she realized her doughnut was now half eaten.

***

Erin boasted about her new prom date the entire walk home, much to everyone else’s outspoken chagrin and annoyance. James, Michelle, and Clare were lucky, because they didn’t live in the McCool-Quinn household. So after the three dispersed from the group to go to their own homes, Y/n and Orla had to hear about Erin’s plans to get a new dress and maybe even new shoes to impress John-Paul for their date.

Then, the rest of their family got to hear about it.

“This is a huge deal.” Erin insisted to her mother that she was following around the kitchen. “This is a massive, massive deal. I’m going to the prom with John-Paul O’Reilly, for God’s sake. Come on, Mammy!”

Mary shook her head. “I don’t care if you’re going to the prom with John Paul the Second, Erin. I’m not buying you another frock. End of story.”

“But, Mammy, you don’t understand.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with your Easter dress.”

Erin scoffed. “There’s lots of things wrong with my Easter dress.”

“It matches Y/n and Orla’s.” Mary persisted, waving her hand over to the girls she just named. Orla was wearing her Easter dress and holding her mother’s cigarette while she and Y/n pinched the fabric at her waist to see what had to be taken in.

“That being the main one.”

“Honestly, Erin, I think we’ll look so cracker if we rock up wearin’ these.” Orla grinned, doing a little shimmy with her words.

Erin raised her brows and gave her cousin a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Right, well I don’t.”

Aunt Sarah pulled more on the loose fabric, grabbing her cigarette from her daughter for a quick drag. “Ach, Mary, you’d think the wain’s been dropped into it. You wouldn’t nip it in a bit for her? I’d do it meself, but sewing plays havoc on my acrylics.”

“Fine.”

“Y/n, dear, can you pin it for me?” Sarah asked, gesturing to her nails. The girl nodded and grabbed some safety pins to cinch Orla’s dress. “Then afterward, Orla and I can do yours for you.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” Y/n replied. “Don’t think I’ll wear it.”

Orla gasped in disappointment, wondering why both her cousins didn’t want to match with her. Meanwhile, Erin kept trying to convince her mother she absolutely needed a new frock.

“I really like this fella, Mammy.”

“Well, if he really likes you, it won’t matter what you wear.”

“Ach, come off it!”

“Have you a date lined up, girls?” Aunt Sarah asked her daughter and niece before taking a drag of her cigarette. 

One seemed to be more enthusiastic about the question than the other. “I do, aye,” Orla answered.

“What?” Erin gave her cousin a strange look. “...With, like, a human?”

The girl blinked before nodding, like Erin was the strange one. “...Yeah.”

“What about you, love?” Sarah looked to Y/n, who was wrapped up in making sure she didn’t accidentally stab Orla. The girl looked up when she realized she was being spoken to. “Has anyone snatched you up for the dance yet?”

Y/n shook her head, trying to not seem so disappointed about it. “Nope. But it’s fine.” She sighed, going back to picking at her nails. “I dunno if I’m even gonna go.”

“What d’ya mean you’re not going?” Erin questioned, seeming offended that her sister would even debate not attending the prom. “You have to go.”

“Why do I have to go, Erin?”

Erin made that little sort of laugh and eye roll that she did when she felt like someone had said something silly or dumb, and she was about to correct it with her obvious intelligence. “It’s prom, Y/n. It’s a big deal.”

“It’s only prom-” Y/n was cut off by a commotion in the living room. Gerry yelped in surprise as Joe banged on something, but no one seemed to care enough to look at what was happening. She shook her head and continued. “Besides, Erin, there’ll be other proms. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Y/n could tell her sister wasn’t entirely convinced. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t too convinced herself. But she’d rather lie and say she didn’t care than make James feel bad about being unable to take her.

Erin looked at Y/n inquisitively. She walked up to her and crossed her arms. “Is this because Ja-”

“This stupid prick’s broken the TV, Mary!” Joe cried out, and his daughter rushed to the living room. Gerry looked appalled at his father-in-law. “He’s been futterin’.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one that was thumpin’ it repeatedly, Joe.”

“I’ll thump you repeatedly.”

“Well, the pair of you’d better sort it out!” Mary interjected before walking over to her sister. “London’s Burning’s on in twenty minutes.”

“God, Mary, but them poor fellas are flat out with fires, so they are. Jesus, but they never get a minute.”

Behind Mary, Joe started to slam the television even harder than before, and Gerry cringed with every slap. “Aye, it’s a good job they keep themselves in such great shape.”

“Don’t, Mary.” Sarah gasped. “That Greek fella…”

“He could throw me over his shoulder any day of the week.”

Y/n and Erin stared at their mother and aunt before looking at each other. They were both equally horrified and disgusted.

“They make me sick.”

“Boke-o-rama.”

***

Clare didn’t take the news of Erin ditching her for John-Paul very well, despite telling Erin it was fine. Erin was the only one who believed her, too wrapped up in her and John-Paul’s revived “relationship.” But Clare pretty quickly found a new date: the new girl from Donegal, Mae, who was going dress shopping with the girls and James when she heard about Erin’s little betrayal. 

After Clare’s date problem was solved, the girls had to solve their dress problem. But Michelle came to the rescue—or rather, her mother’s credit card that she stole came to the rescue. Despite Clare’s very vocal opinion about committing a crime, the rest of the girls were on board on account of having no money.

“What do you think of this one?” Erin asked, coming out in a very tight, turquoise dress. 

“It’s very…” Y/n trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate word. “Different.”

“I’m not sure it’s you, really,” Michelle added.

“Good,” Erin said, in a bit of a struggle as she walked over to a mirror. “I don’t wanna be me.”

Clare walked up to the group, holding two dresses. “Which of these do you like best?”

“Definitely the pink,” Erin answered.

But Clare didn’t care much about Erin’s opinion. “Has to be the blue,” Mae said, and Clare glared at Erin.

“Yeah, I thought the blue.”

“What about you, Y/n?” James asked a bit quietly, holding a pile of dresses that all the girls had thrown at him. “Don’t you wanna look for a dress? You are going to the prom, right?”

He knew her answer before she said it, because she gave him a bit of a frown and a shrug. “I don’t think I will.”

“Y/n-”

“It’s fine, really! I was thinking of helping Daddy fix our TV.” She looked around at all the clothing racks before giving James what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Besides, nothing here’s really my taste.”

“Although, I have heard he’s really good with his hands.” Michelle talking about one of her possible dates reached the couples’ ears. “And when I say he’s good with his hands, I’m not talking about puttin’ up shelves, girls. I’m talking about-”

“Everybody knows what you’re talking about, Michelle.” James interrupted, hoping it would be enough for her to move on. But everybody also knew there was no stopping Michelle from her vulgarity.

The curly-haired girl smirked. “Fingerin’.”

James cringed. “Honestly…”

After much decision-making about what dresses to get, the girls went to the front to pay with Michelle’s stolen card. Mae, who didn’t find a dress she liked, gasped and pointed behind the counter to a red dress that was hung up. 

“Oh my God, that’s the one! Can I try that one on, please?”

“Sorry, love.” The shop owner said apologetically. “That’s being left over for someone.”

“What?”

“Hiya!” In came Jenny Joyce, holding a couple of balloons. “Sorry girls, can’t stop.”

“Don’t worry.” Y/n smiled. “No one asked you to.”

“I’m just grabbing a few wee bits for the prom.” Jenny continued while the owner started bagging up the red dress. “Sure, you know how it is.”

“I was actually about to try that one on,” Mae said, pointing to the dress Jenny was now paying for.

“Well, I left it over, so…”

“It’s just that, red’s my color.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

The rest of the girls backed up a bit, surprised by how hostile Mae and Jenny were becoming towards each other. “No, you don’t understand. I really, really suit it.” The shop owner placed the bag on the counter, and Mae inched her hand towards it. “Garnet’s actually my birthstone.”

“Well, ruby’s mine, so…” Jenny grabbed her bag, and Mae slammed her hand on the counter. She looked at the Joyce girl menacingly. If Jenny was intimidated, she definitely didn’t show it.

“I want that dress, Jenny.”

“Well, you can’t have it.” Jenny left the store, leaving the girls to deal with Mae, who was cursing her out and beyond livid.

***

Prom night had finally arrived after much anticipation. Erin was upstairs in her room getting ready on her own while Aunt Sarah was doing her daughter’s hair and makeup in the kitchen. Mary watched while sipping her tea because Erin didn’t want her help, and Y/n decided to help her father fix their busted television set instead of going to the dance. Granda Joe was nowhere to be found, which relieved Gerry a bit because it meant his father-in-law wasn’t criticizing him.

“Now, close your eyes,” Sarah said, picking up two giant cans of hairspray. “I’m just going to give you a wee light mist, just so it holds for you.”

Y/n could smell the fumes from her spot on the floor in the living room, so she could only imagine what it was like being her mother or cousin in the kitchen. A cloud of hairspray surrounded Orla, making her cough a bit, and Mary covered her tea.

Finally ready, Erin came down from her room and into the kitchen. It took her a bit of effort because her dress was so tight that she had to take baby steps in her heels. “What do you think?” Everyone looked at her, all seeming to have the same reaction.

Mary looked the most surprised by her daughter’s appearance. “God, aye. It’s…” She trailed off, wanting to be honest but nice about it. “Different, isn’t it?”

“Different?” Erin asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it was nice of Michelle to lend it to you, love, but it just doesn’t look…” Mary grimaced, trying to choose her words carefully, “very comfortable.”

Erin rolled her eyes a little. “It’s really comfortable, actually.” She said, walking closer. “It’s like a second skin.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing, Erin,” Y/n called out, handing Gerry a screwdriver. “I dunno if a second skin should be turquoise and… Well, squeaking when you walk.”

“It does not squeak,” Erin replied, squeaking as she hobbled to the table. 

Erin looked forward to see Orla looking at her grumpily. “I wish you would wear your Easter frock, Erin. When we were wee, we always went to parties dressed the same.”

“We’re not wee anymore, Orla.”

Orla grumbled in agreement while Erin handed her mother a piece of paper. Mary unfolded it and looked it over, and Aunt Sarah did the same from over her shoulder.

“What’s this?” Mary asked.

“It’s some guidelines,” Erin answered. “Things you are and aren’t allowed to say to John-Paul when he gets here.”

“Right.” Mary stared into her daughter’s eyes, not looking away as she crumpled the paper into a ball. Erin looked a bit disturbed but decided it was best not to say anything.

“What time’s your date arriving at, Orla, love?” Sarah asked, doing the final fixes on Orla’s hair.

Granda Joe waltzed into the room, wearing a white suit with a yellow rosette pinned to it. “He’s already here.” He said, doing a little spin before walking the rest of the way to the kitchen.

“You asked Granda to the prom?” Erin asked, smiling a little.

Orla’s grin was the widest in the bunch, eyes staying on her grandfather. “Well, everyone kept sayin’ you have to ask a fella you really like, and this is the fell I like the most.” Joe beamed, bowing down and presenting another yellow rose from his pocket for the girl.

“That’s so sweet, Orla.” Y/n said from her spot next to the TV. “Granda’s a lucky lad, that’s for sure.”

“Why, thank you, love,” Joe replied, turning to fully show his granddaughter the happy smile he had been sporting.

“Aye, you’re looking well, Joe,” Gerry added, taking a small break from trying to repair the television to weigh in.

“Oh, it’s not all shite you talk, Gerry.” Gerry gave his daughter an unimpressed look, making her giggle as he went back to the task at hand. Joe turned back to Orla. “Should we head?”

“John-Paul’s picking me up at seven,” Erin replied. “You go on; we’ll see you there.”

Joe looked back to Y/n, waiting for her answer. The girl waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not goin’. Don’t have a date and all that. Besides, I dunno what I’d wear.”

“You could wear your Easter frock, Y/n,” Orla said, trying to entice the girl once more into matching with her. But she just laughed and shook her head.

“No thanks, Orla.”

While Orla said goodbye to her mother and aunt, Joe walked over to Mary and whispered something to her. They looked over at Y/n, who didn’t notice their eyes because she was looking for a tool her father had asked for. Mary nodded at Joe for an unknown reason, and soon, he and Orla were off to the prom.

Erin sat down, struggling quite a bit because of her dress’s tightness. When she was settled, she looked at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until John-Paul arrived.

***

When twenty minutes had passed, Y/n knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her sister. She couldn’t say she was surprised, but she was still saddened for her sister. “I’ll be right back, Daddy,” Y/n whispered before standing up and sneaking to the entrance where the phone and some privacy were.

Y/n knew she had to call someone, but was racking her brain on who. Everyone she knew was either at the prom or busy with something else. 

Suddenly, she jumped as if the idea that came to her had shocked her. She quickly dialed and held the phone to her ear, listening to the rings.

Then, someone finally picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“David?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She peered out the door, seeing Erin still staring at the clock. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old stuff, really,” David answered. “Band’s picked up a few gigs this month, it’s been pretty-”

“That’s great. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

David couldn’t help but laugh at the interruption and how urgent Y/n sounded. “Uh, maybe? What d’ya need?”

“Remember my sister, Erin?” He made a small hum of confirmation. “Well, she used to have a massive thing for you until that whole thing at Jenny’s party a few months ago.”

“You mean when she called that Russian girl your fella was going out with a prostitute?”

“She was Ukrainian, but yes. Anyway, she pretty much gave up on you after that because the whole thing was so embarrassing. But…” Y/n looked to the kitchen again. She could see Mary looking at her daughter a bit sadly, as if she also knew John-Paul wasn’t coming for her. “The prom’s tonight, and her date’s not coming. And… as annoying as she is, she’s my sister and all. So I was wondering if maybe you’d be willing to-”

“I’ll be there at 7:30.” David cut her off, feeling it was only fair since she had interrupted him just moments ago.

Y/n had to keep herself from squealing, not wanting to give Erin the idea that something was going on. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After saying a quick goodbye, Y/n hung up the phone and snuck back out to the living room. David would arrive in twenty minutes, and she just had to count on Erin being hopeful enough to wait that much longer. 

Nothing much had really happened in those twenty minutes. Y/n assisted Gerry in fixing their broken TV, Mary and Aunt Sarah played a card game, and Erin sat and stared at the clock. The only time she moved was to go to the phone in the kitchen, but she was so quiet and far away that Y/n had no idea who she was calling. 

When the clock struck 7:30, Erin sighed. “He’s not coming.”

“Ach, love.” Mary frowned.

“I’m gonna go and change.” That made Y/n panic, and she scrambled off of the floor.

“What?” She said, walking over to Erin and slightly shaking her head. “No, just give it a few more minutes.”

“I wanna get out of this thing.” Erin teared up, struggling to get out of her chair. With how tight the dress was, she started to waddle towards the stairs.

Y/n was hot on her sister’s heels, which wasn’t hard because moving was so difficult for her in that tight dress. “Erin, please. Just-” The doorbell rang, and Y/n let out a breath of relief. She scooted past Erin and went to the door. “See! I told you! Now, I know you were hoping for John-Paul, but I think-... James?”

Y/n was stunned to silence. James was standing right in front of her, dressed up as the Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who, smiling right at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“David?” Erin waddled over to the door, and that’s when Y/n finally noticed her friend David Donnelly standing next to James, dressed in a suit with no tie. 

“Erin.” He replied with a nod.

The two girls looked at each other, confused. “What’s he doing here?” They asked in unison, pointing to the boy that was in front of them, who both laughed at their reactions.

“I called David for you because I knew John-Paul stood you up.”

“I called James for you because I knew you wanted to go to the prom with him.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend. “Wait, what about your creep convention?”

She laughed when he rolled his eyes. “It’s not a creep convention, and you know that. And it’s not important. I just…” James sighed, toying with his long, colorful scarf. “I knew the prom meant a lot to you, and Erin calling me just gave me the push I needed. Besides, I didn’t want to miss a chance to dance with my girl.”

“Ach, Jamie.” Y/n sighed endearingly, cupping his face. She gave him a soft, long kiss that he eagerly returned.

Erin and David had their own little conversation, trying not to look at the couple that were sucking face. “I’m surprised you’re here. I haven’t seen you since… Well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” David laughed a little, thinking back to that night. Then he shrugged. “But Y/n called tellin’ me your date stood you up and… I dunno, you’re kinda cool to talk to and whatever.”

“I am?” Erin asked excitedly. 

“I said ‘kinda’.”

“Wait.” Y/n finally pulled away from James, looking down at her attire. “What am I gonna wear?”

“I’ll take you wearing this,” James said, seemingly serious as he looked at his girlfriend’s ripped jeans and oversized sweater that she had stolen from Granda Joe’s closet. The three other teens gave him unimpressed looks. “What? So what if it’s not a formal dress, she still looks nice.”

“I have something better.” Everyone jumped in surprise as Mary poked her head in. “Come over here. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Y/n pulled Erin to their mother, giving the boys a final glance over her shoulder. “Go ahead and talk, we won’t be long.”

Mary led her daughters to the kitchen, where two big boxes they’d never seen before sat on the table. Mary gestured for the girls to open them, which they did.

“Oh my God, Mammy.” Y/n pulled out a pink dress with layers, ruffles, and small arm straps. Erin held a similar styled dress but in blue. “Where on earth did you get these?”

“They were my mother’s,” Mary answered, looking at the dresses fondly. “Your Granda said to bring them out, in case you changed your mind about the dance. Heard it was fifties themed and all that.”

Both of Mary’s daughters now had tears in their eyes, but they were not from sadness. The girls rounded the table to hug their mum tightly.

“You know, the dress is nice and all but-” Erin cut herself off with a sniffle. “I think I wanna match with Orla.”

“Well, one of you better be wearing my Mammy’s dress,” Mary said, deadly serious with only a tiny hint of amusement in her voice. “I didn’t dig these boxes up for nothing.”

“I’ll wear it.” Y/n laughed, grabbing the box with the pink dress. “Come on, Erin, let’s go change.”

***

“You look lovely.” This was the fifth time James had said this to Y/n in the past thirty minutes. But he meant it every time he said it.

And Y/n knew he did because he couldn’t stop staring at her. “Thank you, Jamie. You look just as handsome.” The couple walked to the school doors arm in arm, Erin and David a few steps behind them. “Although…” James opened the door and looked at his girlfriend curiously. “Are you sure you didn’t want to leave the scarf at home?”

“I think it completes the look,” James said with a bit of humor, toying with the piece of clothing. “But if you want, I can leave it in the car.”

“Nah.” Y/n shook her head, giving James a peck on the lips. “How else am I gonna pull you to the dancefloor?”

The two couples went into the decorated gym, quickly spotting two of their friends. Clare was talking frantically to Michelle, who honestly looked like she couldn’t care less.

“Look, there’s a guy here; he knows Mae-” The four heard Clare say before Michelle cut her off, looking over the blonde’s shoulder to see them.

“What’s going on?” Clare turned around, a bit spooked by the sudden appearance of her friends. Michelle grimaced at Y/n and James standing together arm in arm, but opted to comment on Erin’s new date instead. “Oh, don’t tell me. Wank-features stood you up.”

“Yeah.” Erin shrugged it off like she hadn’t cried over John-Paul standing her up about an hour before. She nudged her sister. “But Y/n called David Donnelly here, so I wouldn’t go alone.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweetheart.” Y/n smiled.

Clare put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Erin. About John-Paul, I mean.”

“No, I’m sorry. You were right; I was jealous. Mae’s just so cool and exotic, and you liked her so much-”

“She’s deranged!” Clare blurted out with wide eyes, taking everyone aback.

“What?”

“Who’s Mae?” David leaned back to ask Y/n and James, who said they’d explain later. He tsked, tapping Erin’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“Get me some punch.” She said before turning back to Clare. “What d’you mean, Clare? You were crazy about her yesterday.”

“She’s the one who’s crazy, Erin!” Clare squealed. “I met this guy that went to her school. He said she had to leave for, like, being a bully. He said she’s seriously unhinged! I think he’s a bit pissed off with her, to be honest, and I can’t blame him, ’cause she’s given the Chinese population of Donegal a really bad rap.” Clare’s friends would always be surprised over how much she could say without taking breaks for breath.

Michelle rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Typical Donegal man. Always moanin’.”

“There she is.” Everyone looked to where James was pointing. Sure enough, Mae was on the other side of the large room, going backstage.

“What’s she doing?” Michelle wondered, and everyone started walking closer to the stage to try and get a better look.

“She was talking about how she wasn’t going to let Jenny get away with the whole Prom Queen thing,” Clare answered.

James gasped. “Jesus Christ, look. Above the stage, look!” He pointed again, and everyone followed his finger to the tin buckets rigged with rope above the stage.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doin’?” Y/n asked.

“I think she’s gonna do a Carrie.” The couple looked both concerned and impressed, now both very glad they decided to come to prom.

“Fuck-a-doodle-do!”

“What’s a Carrie?” Clare asked frantically. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve never seen Carrie?”

“No.” Everyone said something about what a good film it was, but Clare wasn’t looking for film critiques. “Expand and explain! EXPAND. AND. EXPLAIN!”

“So, Carrie is voted Prom Queen, and this bully pours a bucket of pig’s blood on her.” James quickly explained.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Well, a lot of other stuff happens. But, you know, that’s the relevant bit.” Y/n said, but before she could go more into the movie, the band on stage finished playing.

Aisling stepped up to the microphone, some feedback echoing through the gym.

“Can I have your attention, please?” She said with a smile. The girls looked terrified. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s time to crown our Prom Queen.” Mae waited for Aisling to announce the name everyone knew would be said. She held the rope tightly, waiting for the moment she could finally release it. “And now… our Prom Queen is… Jenny Joyce!”

The girl looked completely surprised, and the girls wondered, against their better judgment, if they could just let this all play out. 

“We have to do something!” Clare yelled over the celebratory music as Jenny went up on stage.

While Jenny started to give a small acceptance speech, everyone started running. Except for Orla and Granda Joe, who were more than content with eating popcorn and watching the scene. David joined them, holding two cups of punch and wondering why his date was rushing the stage.

Michelle and James joined Erin to try and get Jenny off the stage, while Y/n went with Clare to stop Mae. It was a struggle, but it didn’t help as much as the girls thought it would. The only good thing was that Mae wasn’t crazy enough to use pig’s blood and instead soaked everyone on stage with tomato juice.

Erin tried to tell Jenny that her friends weren’t to blame, but Jenny, of course, didn’t believe her. The two girls started fighting, soon being joined by Michelle and Aisling. James just stood back and watched, not really wanting to intervene, and Y/n would’ve laughed if she wasn’t caught up in trying to break Clare and Mae apart. The rest of the audience seemed to enjoy the spectacle, laughing and having refreshments as it all played out.

***

It was a good thing David had towels in the boot of his car. Erin and James were covered and sticky with tomato juice, no matter how hard they tried to get it off them. Y/n was eternally grateful that she decided to go with Clare to stop Mae, sparing her grandmother’s dress. She didn’t think Joe would be too happy about it being covered in red, no matter how amused he was by tonight’s events.

“Jesus, the street’s packed.” David grimaced as he turned onto the sisters’ street. It was crowded with all their neighbors, whooping and partying for an unknown reason that they would surely hear about tonight or early tomorrow.

Y/n sighed, poking her head out the window. “I dunno if I wanna go home.” She settled back in her seat and looked at her boyfriend. “Wanna go to your place?”

“Sure.” He answered.

“Want me to drive you there?” David asked, but James shook his head.

“No, mate, it’s fine. I’m only a street over.”

“Yeah, take Erin home for me.” The Donnelly boy seemed to miss the sly wink Y/n gave her sister in the rearview mirror.

After some goodbyes and teasing comments, Y/n and James got out of the car and started walking down the street, weaving through all the people out and about. Surprisingly, Michelle and her parents weren’t home when the two arrived. Michelle must have still been panicking over how she was going to return her tomato-soddened dress, and James’ aunt and uncle were either at work or celebrating whatever was going on with their friends.

With the house empty, Y/n and James unwinded and relaxed. James took a much-needed shower, putting his clothes in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t stain anything else. Meanwhile, Y/n shimmied out of her dress and put on some of James’ pajamas.

“So, what do you wanna do?” James asked as he entered his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Y/n was a little surprised by his boldness, remembering how shy he was some months ago when he didn’t have any clothes at her house and had to stand in his boxers while Y/n grabbed him a sweater.

“Maybe a movie?” Y/n suggested, watching James rifle through his dresser. She was filled with a sudden feeling of not wanting him to put on the clothes he was grabbing. “Carrie would be pretty fitting.”

They laughed, James shaking his head as he slipped his boxers on. “Oh, I don’t know.” He tore the towel off and sat down next to his girlfriend, pulling a shirt over his head. “I think there’s been enough blood, or blood adjacent, covered people tonight.”

Y/n laid back, humming in thought. “Well, there is… another thing... we could do.”

James looked down at Y/n, waiting for her to elaborate. She reached up his back, lightly tugging on his shirt until he laid down beside her. Y/n hooked a leg over James’ waist and brushed some wet curls away from his forehead. As her other hand slowly traveled down his chest, he started to get what she was hinting at.

“Only if you want to, obviously.”

James pushed Y/n off of him only to hover over her, kissing her deeply. He helped her shimmy up his bed until her head was resting on a pillow. Feeling brave, but mainly horny, James pulled away and took off his shirt before slipping his hand under Y/n’s.

“Are you sure?” James asked, slightly panting from how escalated the moment was getting.

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, taking a deep breath before pushing James away so she could take her own shirt off. James stared at her in amazement. Before she could tease him for his reaction, he gripped her bare waist and pulled her against him, kissing her with hunger.

The prom sure was exciting. But sometimes, what happened after was much more eventful.

~~~

The Fella Taglist: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @spidercrush3 @miilkshakess @underthebatcape @dear-jamespotter @brithedemonspawn @acupnoodle @nevillescomslut @hantivity @slaymybreathaway @mystic-writings @thegirlwithoutaname87 @mystic-mara @st4rryhae @ljaneyx @justlibra @siriuslyinlovewithsiriusblack @elauranicolee @in-my-hoe-era @grippleback-galaxy @greensunflowerjuna @sarcasm-and-stiles @callsignwidow @qtkat @asterizee @cursedandromedablack @athenalive

[roeroe-world]

teach me.

starring: elindasan as shanice, devante swing as himself

set in 1993.

warning: not much plot, detailed smut, mentions of drugs, use of profanity

The lights in the musician’s home studio were dim as per usual. A clad of unique instruments of different colors, shapes, and sizes were displayed neatly within the spacious area. Being a part of the successful R&B band, Jodeci, means there were a lot of accolades. Gold and platinum records hung on the walls, showcasing the quartet’s hardwork and dedication.

Mistakenly, the young woman’s manicured index finger hits the wrong piano key. A snort is heard from her as she attempts to play the notes yet again. Her dainty hands pressed against the piano keys smoothly, finally playing the melody her boyfriend had been trying to teach her for the past two hours.

“There you go, baby.” DeVante sends her a nod of approval.

On this specific day, Shanice decided she wanted to learn to play the piano. Her boyfriend being a musician was a perk because he could literally teach her to play any instrument. But it wasn’t easy.

It takes a lot of patience when it comes to Shanice. She isn’t a fast learner like he is or wanted her to be. If she wasn’t his girlfriend, he would’ve given up before they even started.

Thinking she’d got it, unexpectedly, she hit the wrong key. A loud, abrupt sound meeting their eardrums, resulting in the couple to cringe. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, mentally thanking himself for smoking a blunt before returning home. “…Shanice, Shanice…” DeVante was growing impatient. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Aight?”

“Baby, I want to do this now.” She whines similar to a child earning a heavy sigh.

“Shanice, I just got home from the studio. I been working all day. I’m high, tired, and hungry.”

Despite possessing an at home studio, DeVante would work at another recording studio. He worked with a plethora of other artists so he couldn’t invite just anyone in his home anymore especially given that Shanice moved in a year ago.

With an eye roll, “You used that same excuse last time. To this day, you still haven’t really taught me to play your electric guitar.” She was gaining an attitude and so was he. Both were highly frustrated. “I know how busy you are but the least you can do is teach me the piano. Come on, D.”

His deep hazel orbs pierced into her direction, sending her a look infused with irritation and annoyance. She was a beautiful woman whom sure could work his nerves. Though, DeVante couldn’t help but think how funny life can be.

Shanice began to work as a receptionist at Uptown Records in ‘91. Her looks and hourglass frame garnered much attention from the male artists yet she never gave either of them a chance. He thought his chances were slim to none as well so he wrote a ballad inspired by her titled, Come And Talk To Me. If he couldn’t say it then he’ll write a song about it.

Before the track was released and became a worldwide hit, he let her listen and the expression etched across her captivating canvas read nothing but pure amazement. “Wow…” was all she could say.

A proud smirk was etched across his pink lips, “What you think?”

“I loved it.” She replied, fighting her smile.

He finally gained the courage to do what he’d been aching to do for the longest. “…love it enough to let me take you out?”

And so she did.

Two years later, here they were. Still a couple and living together. At times, he couldn’t believe he had ‘the fine receptionist’ in his bed. She was still as fine as ever and she was still his. He knew some of the guys at the label envied him because she was on his arm. He didn’t give a fuck.

Their relationship hasn’t always been perfect. Sometimes they were on, sometimes they were off. His feelings for her never changed in the midst of their issues. He loved her and he couldn’t say that for all of the women he’d been romantically involved with.

After moments of contemplating, “Aight. Imma show you one last time.” His plate in the microwave was calling his name. “This ain’t something you can learn overnight, baby.” He shoots her an arrogant wink.

Shanice’s dark brown swirling irises observed him lifting his arms to plant his long and thick crooked fingers against the keys to create a beautiful melody. The way he played the piano— any instrument was effortless. He could write, produce, play instruments, and sing. He was a genius in her eyes. DeVante inspired her in more ways than one and he didn’t even know it.

Observing his fingers closely, she began to scan the side of canvas. His eyelids were shut as his head moved from side to side, indicating that he was becoming engrossed in the melody he curated.

DeVante was a very talented man and on top of that, gorgeous. He had it going on. Women went crazy over him and she saw why, she saw it every day. She wakes up with him. Shanice was living every girl’s dream.

She too was engrossed… but it was for something else.

“D…” The young woman began, her tone of voice dropping and transitioning into sultry. Her left dainty hand sliding across his thigh to grip his member through his dark sweats.

Instantly, the musician stops what he’s doing. The moment his head turns in her direction, she plants a plethora of loving pecks against his lips. His masculine hands sliding along her back while hers gripped each side of his captivating canvas. Soon the pecks grew into a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing around one another’s harmoniously.

Shanice climbed onto his lap, her clothed wetness grinding against his hardened clothed member in a circular motion.

The musician disconnects their lips, “You ever made love against a piano?”

“Unh, unh.” She smiles brightly, her fingers twirling his little curls. They’ve made love countless of times, in many places, some strange. But on a piano? Never.

“Let’s change that.”

In a swift movement, he lifts her upward by her thick thighs as he stands to his feet and sits the beauty on top of the instrument. Her top row of pearly whites digging into her bottom lip, watching her boyfriend slide her panties along her smooth glowing chocolate legs. His hazel irises darkening in arousal at the sight of how wet she was and he barely even touched her.

Lustfully, she watches his tall frame lower between her widened legs. His arms wrapping around her thick thighs so she couldn’t run. Shanice was trapped into his tight embrace.

DeVante didn’t have to touch her for her to get turned on. All he had to do was give her that look and she would melt, willing to do any and everything in an instant. He had her wrapped around his finger and so did she. No matter how many arguments and fights they’d get into, they would never leave each other alone.

Soft and wet.

That’s how she felt in his mouth. Her taste was sweet like honey, essence dripping along his chin. “Mm,” His baritone groans against the woman, earning a plethora of soft moans before her lips widened growing speechless as two of his crooked fingers entered her warm walls.

“Shit, D…” Her manicured left hand grips his box fade as the other held onto the edge of the large black piano for balance. The musician was making her melt, inside and out, especially in his mouth.

“That’s it. Gimme more, baby.” His soaked fingers skillfully digging in and out of the woman’s tightness. He sucked, licked and kissed as if it was his most prized possession.

Shanice’s juices were never ending. DeVante’s hunger quickly diminished as she fed him, slowly grinding herself against his beautiful face. Her jaw agape, completely speechless. He was eating her like he hadn’t eaten in days, though, it had been hours since he’s had a meal.

Clearly, Shanice was his meal for now.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He never could. Her taste, her show-stopping love faces, her moans, the way her juicy lips would fall open as that little squeaky sound passed her throat. DeVante lived for every single moment of pleasuring his woman.

His piercing light orbs staring a hole into hers while she stared downward in his direction, perfectly arched eyebrows furrowing together while she threw her head backward occasionally. At times, her eyes would roll to the back of her skull, giving him a clear indication of how well of a job he’s doing.

“Fuck..” She releases the pent up sensation within her stomach without warning.

Smirking, he stands to his feet, “We not done yet.” Their eye contact intense. Though he could tell her orgasm left her a bit exhausted.

Soon, every single article of their clothing were on the floor. They were kissing on one another’s tattoos as DeVante gave her deep, breathtaking strokes. The sound of skin slapping, heavy breathing, and loud moans filled the musician’s spacious home studio.

“Look at me.” Gaining a tight grip onto her neck, he forces her attention on him. His deep voice meeting her eardrums immediately results in the young woman’s top row of pearly whites to dig into her bottom lip.

Her right leg upon his shoulder for more access, diving deeper much to her pleasure. She was in complete bliss, speechless. Glossy eyeballs peering upward at her man as he fucked her so good. His thick, long member always hit spots that left her eyes rolling to the back of her skull and screaming to the most high.

The feeling of her warm walls hugging his phallus drove him mad, his strokes grew increasingly rougher. As speechless as DeVante was making her, the pace of his hips were making her grow more vocal. She was growing louder and louder, screaming to the top of her lungs. Luckily, they were alone in their shared spacious luxurious mansion.

“You feel so good, baby…” He groans, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers.

“You too,” A helpless moan escaping her lips, caressing the skin of his back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… ouu, fuck!” Shanice bends backward, back shivering at the coldness of the top of the piano as she laid against the instrument, taking him like a good girl. Her dainty manicured hands gripping her breasts, a fucked out expression etched across her canvas.

“D, ah…” The beauty loses her train of thought, completely and solely lost on the fact that his dick was diving in and out of her. He was so hard, long enough to hit that well needed gummy spot that left her legs shaking.

“Make a mess. Yeah, just like that, sexy.” His deep baritone encouraged her as she squirted uncontrollably, juices spilling along his pelvic area. She was so wet that she was dripping down his legs.

A plethora of high-pitched whines passed her widened lips and DeVante’s top row of pearly whites embedded into his bottom lip, observing the woman lying in front of his standing frame losing her mind. Her large breasts bounced intensely along with each stroke, her gushiness curating a prominent macaroni sound.

Shanice could feel him pulsating inside of her walls, indicating that he was close. “Gimme your babies, D.” Their eyes connected and the minute it did, the couple never looked away from one another. “I want every drop inside of me— shit—”

He knew that she wasn’t thinking clearly but he took what she said seriously.

“I love you, baby…” He breathes heavily, meaning every word he said.

“I— I love you so much. Hmm…” She drags out, eyelids shutting in pure pleasure before admiring the sight of where their intertwined bodies met. “Shit. I love this dick.”

Shanice was drunk off of the musician’s dick, letting out raunchy moans and pornographic screams before releasing yet again without warning. Meanwhile, DeVante’s pink lips hung open slightly as he focused on her reaction. Though, she’d gotten hers already… he wasn’t going to stop whether she liked it or not.

“Fuck…” He curses aloud, feeling his orgasm approaching. His strokes grew rougher and rougher earning several helpless whimpers.

“D… oh yes… come. Just come for me.” As encouraged, he did and spilled every single drop of his semen inside of his girlfriend’s warm walls. Both of their bodies shook at the sensation, their mouths falling agape in ecstasy in unison.

Silence falls between the couple until DeVante breaks it, his nasally baritone speaking, “You can have as many piano lessons as you want.”

Smiling weakly, “Electric guitar too?” Hope filling her low tone of voice.

“Acoustic, electric, whatever. You name it, baby.”

In response, Shanice just giggles. She was ecstatic that he was finally going to teach her.

[haesunflower]

the stars lied | royalty au with zhanghao and ricky

(written in the stars chapter 2)

✩ chapter 1 here, but can be read as standalone ✩ genre: romance, angst

pairing: reader x zhang hao, reader x ricky

about/tags: while you visit your sister, the queen, you're met with a familiar distraction – prince ricky. but king hao doesn't seem happy about it (3k words)

y/n is a princess, hao is a king, ricky is a prince, pining, childhood friends to lovers, love triangle (or maybe it's a square), infidelity, yujin is hao's son

Your sister is with-child for the second time the next time you see her. You’re sitting with her at the butterfly garden, and her first-born is playing near the pond. The young crown prince Yujin looks much like Hao, you think. 

You look at your sister, the queen, and can’t help but think that she was always meant to be that. Since she’s left Astoria, she’s become much tanner, she smells of flowers all the time, and her hair is much longer. She fashions them nowadays with tiny crystals, which glisten in the sunlight when she moves. You tell her it looks like the stars, and she says it’s the only way she can feel connected to home. 

Mariposa, unlike your country, is much warmer. While you haven’t had the chance to explore much, the palace gardens here put yours to shame as it blooms with about a hundred different kinds of flowers. The people that staff the palace are gentle, soft-spoken and remind you of the slight drizzle before a rainbow. You suddenly understand where Zhang Hao gets his disposition from. The king you mean, you suddenly understand where the king gets his disposition from. 

You haven’t seen him since that night. You didn’t even show up to the wedding – it would have complicated things. Instead, you sent your sister a letter and a gift, a small golden telescope. You wonder if your sister has ever suspected anything, if that’s the reason she invited you to stay at Mariposa for the entire Spring. 

“Let me tour you around the palace, sister. Come.” her entire court of ladies move when she does, and you follow suit. She ends the tour at what she thinks would be your favorite place, the royal library. 

The whole place is bright, and the ceiling is incredibly high. The library is two stories, and there is a large staircase that leads to the second floor. The books on the first floor look like they sparkle, with the sun hitting its hardbound spines. You walk in between the tall bookshelves, fingers ghosting over the expanse of the collection. Slowly, the faint sound of a violin enters your ears. 

“He likes to play in here sometimes, up on the second floor”. Your sister, who is beside you, gestures up at the staircase. You don’t want to look. “As expected, the king plays beautifully”, your sister whispers to you. 

“I fear that I’ll disturb his grace's time with you. I’ll retire to my room, sister.” She gently nods at you before making her way up the steps, with prince Yujin following suit. 

You walk to your quarters alone. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

Your maid, Chaehyun, is busy brushing your hair when she tells you that the gown prepared for you to wear at the spring solstice ball has arrived. The dress is a breathtaking midnight blue, clad in diamonds, and much like your sister’s hair – reminds you of the Astoria night sky. 

A string quartet greets you enthusiastically, their music resonating throughout the ballroom as you enter. The walls are decorated in gold, with paintings of the Mariposa butterflies. The place is filled with Mariposa nobility, but you are also met with royals from other neighboring countries. A few gentlemen ask for your hand in a dance, and you agree. Though your body is moving, your mind is elsewhere. You feel that you are merely floating to the rhythm. 

Zhang Hao sees you first, breathtaking, he thinks. He is standing next to your sister on the platform where their thrones reside. He watches you politely accept dances from strangers, smiling and curtsying at each one. When you move, he thinks it’s like watching the constellations dance in the night sky. Entranced, he keeps his gaze on you.

The queen must have noticed, “my king, would you ask my sister for a dance? she looks like she needs saving.” Hao looks at her, a little bit in disbelief. But she nods firmly, letting him know that he can go. 

You’re at your 4th dance partner already, and the current one talks your ear off about Mariposa and Astoria politics. You’re about to respond with some generic agreement to his opinion, when you hear his voice. 

“Excuse me, prime minister. May I steal the Princess of Astoria for a dance?” his gloved hand is outstretched towards you. You don’t want to take it. Not when he’s looking at you like that, not when you’re unable to speak, and not when your sister is watching you from afar. “Of course, your grace”, the prime minister says as he places your hand on the king’s, and the decision is made for you. 

The music restarts, and a slower song begins to play. He takes your hand and places it on his right shoulder. While one hand holds yours tightly, the other rests on your waist. The butterflies are back, and it dances around your stomach. He’s trying to look at you, but your head is turned. 

“Princess y/n, are you ignoring the King?” his lips are in a smile, and his head is tilted. You appreciate the joking manner in which he speaks, and it gives you the courage to look him in the eye. When your eyes meet, his gaze softens. And since you don’t respond, he follows up with “I must say I was a little offended when you fled the library earlier today without so much of a greeting.” 

“I apologize, your grace. I did not want to disturb your time with my sister, nor your time with the violin.” He spins you around. “I don’t mind an audience, princess.” Again, you don’t know what to say.  So with eyes still locked on one another, you dance in silence, and as the song ends he tells you to make yourself at home here. You curtsy, and you leave the dance floor, running to the balcony.

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

The moment your face hits the fresh air, you gasp. You’re breathing heavily, and you make your way towards the banister for support. Your dress feels too tight, too heavy, and you’re clawing at the bodice for release. Behind you, the ballroom is still ablaze with people, chatter, and music. In front of you, a lake full of swans. And beside you, a man dressed in black. 

“Y/N, are you quite alright?” he asks. You turn your attention to him, and you’re met with a healthy distraction from an impending panic attack. He’s much taller than you remember, with broader shoulders and longer hair. Under the night sky, the moonlight reflects on his platinum hair. “Prince Quanrui” you breathe out. 

“Princess Y/N”, he bows at you. “I was looking for you, you know. I was waiting for the chance to ask for a dance, and then that damn king cut the line.” You laugh, Quanrui has always been honest. 

As children, you saw each other yearly for diplomatic meetings of the nations Astoria and Solaria. Your kingdoms were on opposite ends of the map, and while yours is dominated by the moon, his is dominated by the sun. You’ve been to Solaria a few times, the land of people with golden hair. But most of these royal gatherings were hosted in Astoria. 

When you were children, you thought he didn’t talk much. He always sat gracefully, composed, and stoic. Your older brother, Hanbin, was often compared to him growing up as a fellow crown prince. It was only when all the prying eyes of adults left the room where Quanrui, or Ricky, as he liked to refer to himself, would reveal what kind of person he truly is. When it’s just the children in the room – you quickly learn that he says whatever is on his mind, is quite stubborn, and is always at the scene of conflict even if he doesn’t want to be. You remember a time where all the children were chasing each other under the dining hall tables and when the ceramics fell, Ricky took the blame. 

As you were the same age, you spent a lot of time together running around the castle, riding horses, and painting by the garden. You’d also force him to join a tea party or two, especially when your sister was off with extra lessons. He didn’t like doing it, but it gave him a chance to spend time with you. Ricky was the only person in the world who preferred your company over your sister’s. 

But by the time you were teenagers, Ricky started spending more time with Hanbin, sparring at the courtyard for some “healthy competition”. The two princes got along well, and both your parents fostered and encouraged that friendship to ensure the long-lasting alliance of your kingdoms. Every time he visits, he would make sure to ask you to go on a stroll with him at least once. 

The visits started becoming less and far between, after all, relations between Astoria and Solaria are solid than ever – there’s really not much to discuss during the diplomatic meetings anymore. 

On your 17th birthday, he sent over a portrait he painted of you, purely from memory. He apologized for being unable to visit that year as he didn’t have the time to take the long journey to you. In the letter he sent along with the portrait, he said he was busy preparing for the sun ceremony and invited you to come – but you didn’t go. Because Zhang Hao was in Astoria, preparing to marry your sister. 

In the present time, Quanrui stands beside you, “you should have waited, I would have gladly danced with you instead, Ricky.” He looks satisfied with your answer, and pleasantly surprised that formalities have been dropped. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he no longer goes by his childhood name Ricky. But the name sounds so sweet being uttered from your lips. So he lets it be. 

“Will you still be here tomorrow?” he asks. 

“Yes, until the end of the season.” 

“Good, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

It’s the next day, and you’re in your riding clothes. Ricky is at the grand stables, bringing out two horses, one golden like the sun and one white as snow. “Ricky, when you said you’d like me to meet someone, I didn’t think you’d mean a stallion.” 

He laughs, handing you the reins of the white horse. He gently strokes its hair when he says “this is Celeste, I bring her everywhere with me.” You look at him, making your eyes small and shooting him an accusatory look, “Celeste like, the constellation we made up as kids?” 

Ricky laughs “a funny coincidence, is it not?”. His ears are slightly red, and you are right not to believe him. Eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, you shake your head. 

You’re laughing when you ask “okay, and who is this handsome creature?” You're petting the golden stallion by its neck, waiting for Ricky to respond. Instead, he walks closer to you and asks “may I?”, you nod and he easily lifts you up by the waist to mount the horse. 

“You tell me y/n, he’s all yours.” 

He shoots you a wink and quickly mounts Celeste. He’s gotten a few feet ahead of you when he turns around to taunt you, “well princess y/n, are you coming?” You quickly start to move, catching up to them, with the newly gifted horse that you decide to name Citrine. 

On his own horse from afar, Zhang Hao watches you ride alongside Quanrui. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

Spring goes by fast, and Quanrui has overextended his stay.

Solaria and Mariposa have a tense history, and their mutual ally Astoria is what prevents further political turmoil. So when Quanrui asks the king if he could buy a horse from him, he allows it. And when Quanrui asks if he, too, can stay until the end of Spring, Zhang Hao makes a retort comment about Solaria needing their crown prince back. The prince responds with “some things are worth more than a country” and upon hearing a response like that, he has no choice but to let him stay.  

King Zhang Hao isn’t blind. He sees that Quanrui is in love with Y/N. Since the spring solstice ball, you have never gotten a moment to yourself. Prince Quanrui is always glued to your side – especially as you stroll through the butterfly gardens, visit the palace museums, and ride the horses. Mealtimes have been hard for Hao, so much so that he has decided to dine alone in his room for the time being. He loses his appetite when he sees you and Prince Quanrui casually stealing glances at each other. 

After dinner, he often retires to the royal library in an attempt to distract himself, getting lost in the violin. The queen is starting to worry, when she points out he’s been playing sadder songs recently. He never knows what to tell her, so he doesn’t say anything. 

Today, as he is about to enter the second floor study, he hears voices. Inside, you’re teaching the young crown prince, Yujin, how to use a telescope. The windows are open, and you’re guiding Hao’s son so that he can see through the device. It’s the golden telescope you got your sister as a wedding gift. You don’t know that Hao has been the one using it as of late. 

“My my, isn’t it too late for the young prince to be awake?” The toddler beams in excitement and gestures to be brought to his father. You bring Yujin over to Hao, who gladly takes him from your arms and coos. “And what did princess y/n show you hmm?” He makes conversation with his child as if he has the ability to respond. King Hao then brings Yujin over to his nanny, who is waiting patiently by the door. “Bring the young prince to bed.” he commands. 

You are also about to excuse yourself when Hao stops you. “Stay” he says.  

You stop in your tracks, and turn around to face him. “Your grace, it’s getting late -” He is desperate to speak to you, evidently grasping at straws when he says “as King, I’m ordering you to stay.” 

Hao sighs loudly, and throws his head up, looking straight into the ceiling. “Sorry Y/N I just, I want the chance to speak with you.” He’s looking at you now, pleading with his eyes. The same eyes he used as he pleaded with you that night in Astoria. 

This time, you want to hear him out. This time, you don’t run away. “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

You sit yourself on the couch, opposite the window where you were standing. Hao follows suit and sits next to you. There’s a long silence before you hear the crickets in the distance. “Did you love me?” he asks. 

Love? You think. Well, he made your heart beat faster than anyone else could. He made you feel seen, he made you question your position in royalty, and he made you wonder what it would be like to be – normal. He almost made you betray your sister. So whatever powerful force that was, if we can even call it love, that is how you felt towards him. 

But all you can croak out is “you are married now Hao – ” Suddenly, you feel 17 again. You feel vulnerable, removing the walls you greatly put up. “– and to my sister, nonetheless.”

You’re scared that you’ll cry, so you look straight ahead at the window so the tears don’t fall. You know that you still haven’t actually answered his question. And he thinks you won’t be able to answer him at all, which is why he confesses ahead, “Y/N I am married, but I do not love her.”

This time, you look at him. Like you, he looks scared. His lips are quivering and he’s afraid he’ll break at any moment. With bravery, you place your hand on his cheek. You feel the tear that falls down and he closes his eyes, basking in your touch. “I’m sorry.” he whispers.

“For what?” you ask. 

“For not doing anything. For letting you go. For not seeing you the next morning. For -” he’s bawling at this point. And you could barely make out those last few words as he lets his tears take over. So you hug him, and his tears pool by your neck. Forget royal conduct, right now you are just a girl, holding your first love tightly. 

His arms wrap around your back, and he clings on to you tightly. How cruel, he thinks. The first time he is allowed to feel the warmth of your skin is also the last time he’ll be able to. Both your eyes are shut as you enjoy the company of being in each others’ arms. For you, healing. For him, mourning. 

When his breathing steadies, he explains himself. “It’s because I thought you might be right, Y/n, about what’s written in the stars for us. But now that I’m here holding you, I’m hoping the stars lied.” 

Your brows are furrowed, and he’s holding both your hands when he says “I so badly want the stars to be wrong.” He says it so quietly, you almost don’t catch it. Your foreheads are leaning against each other, when you whisper back “I’m sorry, too.” 

The soft cries have stopped, and it’s silent once again. The weight of your words slumps his shoulders, and he knows what the apology means. It means, I’m sorry, but it’s too late. I’m sorry that this isn’t in the cards for us. I’m sorry, but I do not love you anymore.  

“to answer your question, I think I did love you, Hao.” And for a split second, he is happy. 

“But I think you wouldn’t be able to love me freely either way, your duty is to your country. You are a selfless King, and even though only I will know your great sacrifice, it is admirable to the highest degree.” 

And Hao knows you are right. His one great love is Mariposa. Unlike other royal families, there is no other person that can rule, the line of succession ends with him as the only son of the late king. And now that he is King, the line shall continue with Yujin. It turns out, you’re right about the stars. Hao is destined to be a great leader, not your lover. 

So he nods, forced to accept his fate. With one last plea, “one kiss before I let you go?” 

You nod, and let him mold his lips to yours. His hands hold your jaw tightly, bringing you close to him. You feel a passion, longing, and a sadness to this kiss, and you relish in it. It’s a kiss that feels like it’s the end. 

Outside, the queen peeks through the keyhole of the door. Then decides to leave you be.

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

A/N: this was so long, whew! what do you think will happen next? part three will be out next week, but let me know your reactions!

✩ chapter 1, chapter 3 ✩ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

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[rydiathesummoner]

Ranking the FFXVI dominants according to how good they would be at singing

#8: Jill.

Sorry Jill, but singing is not in the cards. Her early life in the north was wartime, and her side losing. Probably not a lot of singing lessons. Given how Anabella called her savage and viewed her as marriage stock it's unlikely she ever learned how to sing. No biggie though, she would rather shovel chocobo shit than perform in front of people anyway. Sometimes when it's just her and Clive, she will hum off-key. Clive thinks her humming is the most beautiful sound in Valisthea and doesn't even notice she's off-key because if Jill is happy enough to hum, then that's the best thing ever and beautiful and perfect.

#7: Hugo

Singing is for sissies. Pansies. Only weak men participate in the arts. Why learn to sing when you can have the glory of combat, gold and women?? That said, he was able to hold that "FUUUUUUUUUUCK" pretty well so he might be able to hold notes just as well.

#6: Joshua

He probably had music lessons as a kid so he knows the theory and can carry a tune. However, he spent his voice-changing puberty years in a coma. It probably took him ages just to get used to his body doing all kinds of wild new shit for him to re-learn how to sing. He might sing along in a crowd for holidays and ceremonies, but he's mostly lip-synching. It also doesn't help he has an alien in his chest and a tendency to cough up blood. Good luck projecting your voice with that.

#5: Cid

Yeah he's a bit off-key, and?? He's a former military commander, not a theater star. He doesn't give a shit if he's singing well or not, he's going to get drunk, sing his heart out with his buddies and if you don't like it, well the door's over there. He gets the lyrics right, mostly! What he lacks in skill he makes up for in style and getting the (bar) crowd involved. Not to mention his speaking voice is great, right? Just... kind of add a tune and it's still gonna be better than average.

#4: Benedikta

Despite her impoverished background, her singing is pretty nice. She really excels in sultry and jazzy/blues types of songs. Obviously she uses this surprising skill to entice men and not because she enjoys it or anything. To her it's just another tool in her kit, and like any tool she keeps it sharpened with plenty of practice while slinging her weapons around. Everyone in the weapons range loves to listen to her singing but they don't dare say anything.

#3: Barnabas

He has a rich and beautiful baritone. He could have been a star if he hadn't elected to be a murderous slave king to a deceitful god. He doesn't sing anyway though. Singing is useless. Unless it would summon Mythos. Wait, will it attract Mythos for the Lord and Master? Could singing potentially buff Mythos to prepare him to be even stronger for his Master? He's heard tales of such people from other stories. Better sing while battling Mythos. Just in case.

#2: Dion

His singing voice is stellar. His singing is like a clear night's sky. But you'll never hear it. He doesn't sing in front of others. That's... awkward. He's a weapon, not an entertainer. What would his troops think if he started belting out the show tunes he secretly loves? That's not how a Proper Bahamut™ acts! They would either never take him seriously again or make inappropriate song requests constantly and he's not sure which one is worse. He'll sing for Terence though. He gets flustered when Terence encourages it but does it anyway and secretly enjoys singing for him. Terence knows he secretly enjoys it. That's why he asks. Well, that and his voice really is amazing.

#1: Clive

Of course the theater kid is number 1. He was the star of all his Rosarian school musicals. He's been singing his whole life! As a kid some of his favorite memories are belting out old songs with Uncle Byron and his dad. They used to fantasize about becoming a singing quartet once Joshua was older if they didn't have the whole royalty and eikon thing going on. When he was enslaved by the Imperial army he didn't sing much, except on rare occasions with his fellow Bastards after a long mission and some smuggled alcohol. The bastards are confused why Wyvern has such a beautiful singing voice but whatever he kills good too. Once he's freed and has accepted himself he feel the urge to get back into singing again, but by now he's feeling a bit awkward about it. Like how does one approach the topic? "Hey guys, I'm a great singer check it out!" No, that's too weird for Outlaw Cid, he can't force it. He wishes to himself that there would be a singing contest or at least a drunken sing-along at the Fat Chocobo so he can finally show off his talent, or that Jill would somehow spread the idea around so somebody could ask, but so far he's been disappointed. Someday the Hideaway will hear it. Someday.

[tulip-room]

Crush Next Door - s. kiyoomi

syn. your childhood friend that you lost contact with moves next door to you

Ch. 4 || Reinforcements

Warnings. None

Words. 1.3k

prev >> series masterlist >> next

Atsumu, Bokuto, and Hinata were on a mission. Well, a couple missions, missions for a bigger one? They weren’t entirely sure of all the details if they were being honest. 

They wanted more information on Sakusa’s neighbor and they figured the easiest way to get it was through his cousin. Komori. Komori loved to gossip about anything and everything so the troublesome trio went to him after they had a practice match with EJP Raijin. 

They had to be sneaky about it so Sakusa didn’t question them and find out what they were doing. They waited until Sakusa was finished talking with Komori and waved goodbye before they made their move. Atsumu hooked an arm around his shoulder and Bokuto stood on his other side. Hinata stood in front of his with a smile.

“So, Komori. We’re friends right?” Atsumu asks with a smirk. “Because we have some information in exchange for some information.” Komori smiles back at them and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? And what information do you have? My prices are very steep,” he jokes. 

“Oh, you’ll want to hear this.” Hinata exclaims from in front of him with a wide smile.

“Sakusa moved, as I’m sure you know.” Komori nods his head so Atsumu continues. “We want to know more about her, we’re assuming you know her.”

“And why would you make that assumption?” Komori asks as he grows more and more interested by the minute. 

“Because we have it on good authority that they’re childhood friends.” Komori’s eyes light up at that piece of information. A gentle smile taking over his features.

“That lucky-“ he mutters and stops himself. “He moved next to Y/N?”

“Y/N? That’s her name?” Atsumu prods.

“If it’s the same person I’m thinking of, yeah.”

“Sakusa hugged her as soon as he saw her.”

“Sounds like Y/N then.” Komori nods as there’s not many people his cousin would react like that to. “What would you like to know about her, my friend?” The three of them start walking out of the building. 

“Well, we noticed that Omi has this ring on his bag,” Hinata starts excitedly. “Do you know anything about it?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know he still had that.” Komori mutters under his breath. “I don’t know the story behind them, all I know is one day they showed up to school with matching rings on their fingers. I don’t think I had ever seen Kiyoomi so happy as when guys would steer clear of her because of them.”

“Oh, this is too good.” Atsumu chuckles under his breath. “Omi Omi still likes her.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. I don’t have all of the details, but. I do know that they were smitten with each other before she moved.” He taps his chin in thought. 

It seems as though the troublesome trio has become a quartet now.

The door of the bakery chimes and you swipe a stray piece of hair from your face as you greet them. “Hello, I’ll be just a minute,” you say as you finish up counting the change drawer. When you look up you’re met with brown eyes.

“Kiyoomi, what brings you in?” Your voice lifting up as a smile creeps onto your face. 

“We had a half day because of a practice match. I figured I should come visit my favorite baker.” He adjusts the mask on his face as he looks around at the people sitting and eating. 

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Here I am.” You notice that he’s wearing his ring, it shining as the fluorescent lights hit the metal. “Your ring.” You point at it.

“Yeah, I figured I would wear it as an actual ring today.” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. “And where is your ring?” He teases as he notices your hands are bare. 

You roll your eyes and pull out your necklace from under your shirt. “Over my heart, where you always are,” you say playfully. You swear you can see a hint of pink popping out from where his mask ends. He adjusts it again. 

“Those cookies you made were really good and I remember you saying if I visited that you would treat me to some baked goods.” 

“Should you really be eating those?” You hum at him. 

“One cheat day won’t hurt me.”

“I’m such a bad influence.” You shake your head and gather some cookies in a bag. He reaches out to take the bag but you pull it back. “Some of these are fruit cookies. All natural sugar,” you explain and hand him the bag.

“I’m impressed.” He looks through the contents of the bag. “How much longer are you open?”

“Only like another hour, I usually close before six.” You tell him and point to the clock that’s already inching towards five. 

“I’ll walk you home then, if you don’t mind me staying after close.”

“No, I don’t mind.” He sits down at a table near the counter and he watches you wipe everything down. As the time ticks closer to six the crowd dissipates until it’s just him and you. You had sent your staff home once they finished prepping for the next day telling them you would finish up mopping. 

Sakusa waits patiently as he watches you clean. Once everything is locked up the two of you walk in comfortable silence to the train station. He lets you take the seat and he stands in front of you. “How was the match?”

“Good. I saw Komori, it was nice to see him.”

“It must be difficult to go from seeing someone everyday to almost never,” you say without realizing. You let out a small laugh and quickly cover your mouth when the realization hits you. “I guess we would know.”

“I guess we would,” he hums in agreement. 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, it’s been way too long since we last hung out.” You mention with a smile. 

“It would be. I’ll invite him over sometime.” The two of you get off the train and start walking down your street. “I know I’ve already said it but, it’s really nice seeing you again.” He mutters as he looks away and refuses to make eye contact with you. Your hand is holding onto the sleeve of his jacket like usual. 

You tug lightly on the fabric to get him to look at you. “It was good to see you again too, Kiyoomi. I missed you,” you admit as it was your turn to look away. He shifts his arm so you’ll look back up. 

“I missed you too.” You hadn’t even realized you had wound up at your door until you look back up.

“Goodnight Kiyoomi, let’s do this again? It was nice.” You offer him a smile as you unlock your door.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he crosses his arms as he anazyles you. “Yeah, let’s do this again. It reminds me of when we were young.”

“We’re not old Kiyoomi, we’re 22,” you say with a small laugh. 

“It just feels like forever ago.”

“It does. We can’t let it happen again.” 

“No, we can’t.” He pulls you into another hug. “I missed this too,” he admits softly as you wrap your arms around him. The two of you stand there for a moment, just enjoying the silence and comfort between the two of you as you hug. 

You pull away with a final squeeze. “See you later.”

“See you later.” The two of you give a final wave and Sakusa waits till your door locks before he crosses the way over to his house. His heart thrums in his chest and his cheeks hurt from how much he’s been smiling lately. 

I guess that’s what happens when you’re in love.

Next chapter is one of my favorite I've written hehe

taglist. @hiraethwa @loveelylacey @3lectraheart @cosmiicdust @empress-pug-pug @angelkiyo @whosmarjj

masterlist

[rock-and-roll-hell]

March 23 1974

KIϟϟ Tour

Academy Of Music - New York City

This early show was first advertised in the final third of January, though initially only with Argent noted. Nazareth cancelled several weeks prior to the show (ads noted such as early as the first week of March), but had appeared in advance print ads, as had Graham Central Station in place of Redbone. KISS wasn't mentioned in ads until Mar. 14. Argent had recently arrived from the U.K. leg of their "Nexus" tour. A second concert was held at the venue starting at midnight with Renaissance, Soft Machine, and Eleventh House (featuring Larry Coryell). - From a local review: "Rock groups do not travel light, and six of them — heavily amplified and some decked out with special equipment — caused jams backstage and delays out front at the Academy of Music on East 14th Street on Saturday night and well into Sunday, thus giving their audience an eight‐hour composite of the state of the art. But if rock groups take their time setting up, rock audiences don't let it bother them. An hour's wait between two performing groups aroused mere sporadic clapping of hands. An 80‐minute delay in the start of the second concert elicited barely any criticism, and the appearance of the final group, Renaissance, at 4:25 a.m. yesterday was greeted with as much enthusiasm as the opener, KISS, at 8:20 p.m. Saturday. All this bears out the theory that a basic‐rock‐music audience sees itself as much an event as what happens on stage. KISS (dressed midway between kabuki players and Spiderman) let loose sirens, fireballs, dry ice fumes, smoke bombs, and as a climax a drummer with full gear ascended 8 feet on a special platform. This was all sound and fury, signifying yet another plastic and empty rock quartet" (New York Times, 3/25/74). From an industry review: "Somehow, even if you personally couldn't get into the glitter of them all, the night did seem to belong to the opening act, Kiss (Casablanca). Take away their frills (and maybe after they receive their due, they will!), and you've got a fine rock band. Right now, their act looks as if it were choreographed by the Temptations, with aid from Alice Cooper's wardrobe mistress and the Hello People's make-up staff. But from their single 'Nothin' to Lose' to their finale 'Black Diamond,' their flash was most definitely backed by more than trash. The crowd loved every shimmering moment, and this was especially evident as you moved back into the cheaper seats (sociologists take note!). This could be the next Grand Funk. Like the Railroad, the quartet might once again prove that across-the-board good press is occasionally irrelevant to the power of rock" (Record World, 4/6/1974).

[sebscore]

THE GRID'S DELIGHT | SERIES MASTERLIST

summary: the shenanigans of female gen z driver and the formula one grid.

author’s note: I started this series, because I'd like to imagine what it would be like to be part of the group of drivers and how it would be like to interact with them on a regular basis. It's all fun and games, and I don't know these people in real life. everything is fiction! the stories aren't written in chronological order, but I try to put them in the right order below! 

Requests are always welcome in my inbox! Opinions, thoughts and feedback are also greatly appreciated.

— ABOUT THE OC

HEADCANONS || MORE HEADCANONS

:: Things about being the only female driver on the ‘22 grid.

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS

:: The dynamics between driver!reader and the formula 1 drivers. in the link you can find the masterlist.

EXTRAS

:: this includes thoughts, opinions, etc about the series. it doesn’t include requests.

— 2018

WELCOME TO THE STRANGE WORLD 

:: Y/N makes her F1 debut at the 2018 Australian Grand Prix. 

THE PRIZE THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

:: Y/N accepts the 'Rookie of the Year' award and receives a suprise from a special someone on stage.

— 2020 

TWITCH WAR

:: lando insults Y/N’s gaming skills and the events that followed.

PLEASE RISE FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

:: An error in the sound system causes for the wrong song to play instead of Y/N’s national anthem.

— 2021 

THE MORE YOU KNOW

:: Y/N teaches Sebastian and Fernando what ‘bop’ means.

NO ONE LIKES A MAD WOMAN

:: Y/N receives a complaint from the FIA during the driver's briefing and no one is happy about it.

BREAK UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND, I'M BORED 

:: Y/N flirts with a stranger not knowing she's the girlfriend of another F1 driver on the grid. 

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

:: Y/N goes through a rough patch and the drivers notice.

LET IT SPIRAL

:: Y/N gets into a crash and Seb & George come to the rescue.

SLOW DOWN, RED FLAG

:: The commentators are shocked by Y/N’s red flag habit.

BE YOUR WINGMAN

:: Y/N tries to get through an interview with Jenson, Daniel and Sebastian. 

GIDDY GOODBYES

:: Y/N and Kimi bid each other goodbye at the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

— 2022

A MAN’S WORLD

:: Y/N is asked about Christian Horner’s sexist comments.

THE ORIGIN OF RUSSY BUSSY

:: the title is pretty self-explanatory.

WHAT HAPPENS IN MONACO, STAYS IN MONACO

:: Y/N goes on a blind date and returns with a hickey the next day.

THE HELMET BET

:: Y/N and Zhou decide who the second best dressed driver on the grid is through a bet that involves holding the other drivers hostage at the driver's briefing.

GOSSIP GRID

:: Charles and Pierre don't trust Y/N when it comes to rumors around Oscar Piastri's move to McLaren.

RUMOUR HAS IT

:: Y/N and her fellow younger drivers react to certain rumours that have been going around about her love life, and it might include two colleagues of hers.

MONZA MANICURE

:: Daniel makes it up to Y/N for breaking her nail during a race.

LITTLE MISS BLACK DRESS

:: f1 drivers and their reactions to Y/N looking gorgeous in a dress.

KEEPING UP WITH THE GRID

:: What happens when Y/N takes over Martin's grid walk? 

THE LAST SUPPER

:: The drivers celebrate the life and career of Sebastian Vettel at Abu Dhabi and Y/N has a great story to tell.

— 2023 

INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY 

:: Daniel, Lewis and Sebastian show their appreciation for Y/N on International Women's Day. 

GLASS HALF FULL KINDA GAL

:: Y/N goes on Instagram live to try out Daniel’s new wine, and the drivers react to it in the comments.

MONTE-CARLO MADNESS

:: Y/N meets her old mentor after months and experiences a chaotic qualifying in Monaco.

PUT IT INTO SPEED DRIVE

:: Y/N and the Twitch Quartet go on a small adventure in the streets of Monaco.

SNITCHES GET STITCHES

:: A collection of moments at the 2023 Austria Grand Prix.

LATE NIGHT TALKING

:: Pierre asks the question: “Out of all the drivers, who would you date?”

— 2024

EXCUSE ME

:: Y/N finds out about Lewis’ Ferrari move before the official announcement.

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

:: Lando ends Y/N’s race, and they have different perspectives on how it transpired.

[alumi-san]

Headcanons for sport quartet (+rajbow)

- Raj has a dog named Snowball, and Wayne has a cat named Snowflake.

- Wayne and Raj are actually childhood friends.

- Wayne and Raj like to share clothes with each other.

- They also stay for the night in each other's houses pretty often.

- Wayne has one younger sibling. He's *THE* biggest big bro you can imagine.

- Raj is indian, canadian.

- When Raj came out to his family as gay (despite them already knowing that because of Total Drama), they were really happy and supportive of him.

- Bowie is glad that his bf family is so supportive. He wishes his own could be like this.

- Raj family loves Bowie! They always invite him to stay on dinner.

- Raj has two older siblings who love to tease him (lovingly, of course). He loves them.

- Wayne and Raj have a rule called "you're sibling my sibling." So yeah, they share siblings.

- Bowie is the only child, but if he had a sibling, he would kill them.

Raj: Oh, come on, Bow, don't say that! Look at me and my siblings. Sure, they can be a little annoying, but I still love them!

Bowie: Raj honey, you and your siblings have the same DNA and were raised by the same people as you. So they like big annoying but still sweet copies of you. If I had an older/younger sibling with the same DNA, living with me and being a big/little annoying, sassy copie of me. In that case, if not me, then they will kill me. This world is too big for two Bowies, and I would want to make sure that the best one survives.

- Bowie calls Raj "Ra-Ra," and Raj calls Bowie "Bow," "Bower," and "Snowie."

- Someone say that Raj is carrying Bowie, others, that Bowie carries Raj. Wrong! They both carry each other.

- Chase was Emma's first boyfriend.

- I already mentioned this. Bowie, Wayne, and Raj are protective of Emma when it comes to Chase.

- Emma is not actually her name. Her real name is Emily. The reason why she uses a different name is because when she and Chase started dating, he said that "Emma" sounds a lot cooler for their show. So, she started to refer herself as Emma on social media. When she tells this to the boys, they immediately say that Emily sounds better than Emma.

Bowie: Plus, nobody will confuse you with Emma from TRR now.

After TDI, she started to use her real name (while the boys have another reason to kill Chase).

- Emma is a tennis girl. It's the only sport she's invested in.

- Favorite ice cream tastes: Wayne- vanilla; Raj- strawberry; Bowie- chocolate; Emma- gum.

- Bowie is the brain, Wayne and Raj are the strength, and Emma is the heart of the group.

- The sport quartet is very protective of each other.