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sapphic-coded · 1 year ago

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I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Lots of violence against wood. Reader is a messed up assassin and is proud of her work. So much childhood trauma just hanging out in the background. Reader dresses up like a lumberjack.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the love you showed for the first chapter of this fic! All the likes, reblogs, and comments helped keep my muse alive as I wrote the second chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you want to be added to the tag list then let me know, and I'll add you when I post chapter three. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff

Chapter Two: Flower In A Hailstorm

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

Your black backpack bounced lightly against your back as you followed a couple paces behind your brother and sister. The morning was bright and warm. The neighborhood was a quiet bustle of activity. Garages opening. Cars pulling out of driveways to begin another commute to work. Other kids trickled out of quiet homes on their way to school.

When you had walked two blocks, your brother swung his navy blue backpack around until it hung off his shoulder in front of him. He unzipped his bag and looked at your older sister. His hand disappeared into his bag.

“Do you think Sadie will go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he asked your sister.

Your sister shrugged. “Depends. Is she desperate?”

“Ha ha. Very funny,” your brother said as your sister smirked. He pulled out a shiny, wrapped foil of pop tarts. “I’m serious. Do you know if anyone else has asked her?” He opened the foil and pulled out one pop tart. He turned and handed it out towards you. You smiled and hurried to catch up to them. You took the pop tart and immediately bit into it. The sweet taste of blueberry jam and hard surgery icing filled your mouth.

Your brother pulled the second pop tart out of the foil, broke it in half, and handed one piece to your sister.

She took her half. “How would I know?” She took a bite of her piece of pop tart.

“Because you’re in the same History class,” your brother replied.

“That doesn’t mean I talk to her,” your sister said before taking another bite.

You ate your blueberry pop tart while listening to your siblings talk about Sadie and the Homecoming dance. You didn’t chime in with any advice. You didn’t know who Sadie was. Most likely a girl in high school like your siblings. But it was fun to listen to them discuss the likelihood of your brother getting a date with this girl. By the time you reached your school, your sister had settled on the theory that Sadie would most likely agree to the date if every other boy in the school dropped dead.

Your siblings wished you a successful day before you parted ways. You walked your usual route into your school and through the busy hallways. Clusters of students clung to the long, noisy hallways. Their stares were all too familiar. Strange looks. Hushed questions that weren’t so quiet that you couldn’t overhear. No kid dared to leave their pack of friends to go near you. Despite the plain, ordinary clothes you wore, you also wore the stories of your father.

He was the random, misplaced red thread in a blanket of black. He stood opposed to the currents of the town. His beliefs were rooted securely in what many brushed aside as fantasies. He kept himself fairly busy within the confines of your home, but whenever fate drew him into the public an odd story would follow. One neighbor once saw your father out in a field, attempting to contact aliens. Another found him in their yard digging a hole to a secret bunker. There were countless stories, and they followed you wherever you went. You were his, and so, you must be strange too. It didn’t help that you rarely ever acted like the other kids. It was not intentional. If you could understand how to act like them, you would. But you didn’t. So every day you spent in this school, you spent it alone. Surrounded by strangers. Constantly feeling their judgmental stares digging into your back. Hearing the whispered rumors about you and your family.

When you reached your classroom, you went over to your desk at the far back side of the room. Your desk was positioned an extra foot off to the left as if the group of desks had just decided to push yours just a bit further away. You put away your belongings into your desk, hung your backpack on the back of your chair, sat down, and waited for the school day to begin.

You had your notebook open and you practiced your handwriting as the other students all filed in. Your whole family was in agreement that your handwriting was truly horrible. You needed to fix that, but you frowned at your latest attempts. All barely legible. Your disappointment lingered as the teacher called for the class’s attention. When you lifted your head up, every ounce of disappointment and every thought regarding your terrible handwriting vanished at the sight of her.

The girl with the blue hair.

“Class,” your teacher began. “This is Nat. She just moved here and will be joining our class. Let’s give her a warm welcome.”

As the rest of the class released a chorus of hellos, you sat silently, transfixed. The first, loudest thought in your mind was a simple question: how did she have blue hair? It was so cool. It reminded you of one of the characters out of your sister’s books. The ones she would tell you about right before bed. The second thought was that she was pretty. You couldn’t come up with a good comparison or truly unravel that thought completely. You just knew when you looked at her that she was really pretty. You liked that.

The teacher gestured to the empty desk closest to yours. Quietly, she crossed the length of the room and sat down at the empty desk. You watched as she pulled a notebook from her backpack before setting her bag down. Then, she looked over towards you. You felt your whole body tense up under her gaze. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to blurt out the loudest thought in your head, but your mouth stayed shut tight.

“Hi.” Her greeting was soft and quiet.

You blinked and your mouth opened. “Hi.” When you felt the first sting of awkward tension, you looked away and back down at your notebook.

The morning creeped by rather uneventfully. Every so often you would look over at Nat who would be busy writing down notes like the rest of the class. You wondered if she recognized you from the other day. Whenever your attention was on your bad note taking, it would often break off and wonder about how to start a normal conversation with Nat. You had never been in such a weird position before. Wanting a connection instead of accepting the natural recoil. You hadn’t come up with any solid strategies by the time the lunch bell rang.

You pulled your brown bagged lunch from your backpack and followed your class down to the cafeteria. You lost sight of Nat during the shuffling of students, so you took your seat at your usual spot at the end of one of the long, blue-gray cafeteria tables. You opened up your brown bag and pulled out your aluminum foil wrapped sandwich. It was the only thing your father had packed for you. You unwrapped the foil. Your brow furrowed when you didn’t see any meat, or cheese, or anything poking out from between the twin slices of white bread. In fact, there was nothing at all between the slices. Just two slices of bread sitting one on top of the other.

You heard hushed giggles coming from further down the table. You looked over just as a few of your laughing classmates quickly looked away. Usually, this didn’t bother you. You were used to this. But you couldn’t deny the hurt starting to creep in. You wanted to say something. Do something. Anything to let out–

Someone sat down next to you. Whatever had started to build inside you washed away at the sight of her again. She started to open up her own bag, but stopped when she noticed the two slices of bread posing as a sandwich.

Her green eyes shifted to you. “Is that your lunch?”

“Uh,” was the first word out of your mouth before you looked down at the bread slices and then back up to Nat. “Yes. It’s my sandwich.”

“Where’s all the stuff in between?” she asked.

“I think my father forgot it,” you answered.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was already cut in half. “Here.” She offered one half of her sandwich to you.

You looked from her, to the offered half, and then back to her. “Are you sure?” When she nodded, you took it. You immediately took a big bite. The creamy taste of peanut butter brought a smile to your lips. “Thanks.”

Nat smiled and took a bite of her half of the sandwich. “What’s your name?”

You swallowed your second bite. “Y/N.”

“I think you live across the street from me,” Nat said.

Your smile grew tenfold and you nodded.

This seemed to amuse her as she chewed on another bite of her sandwich. “I remember you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “I like your hair.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

Your conversation carried through your lunch. It was the first time your lunch had been more than just daydreaming between bites of food. You found yourself eagerly engaged in the bits and pieces that Nat shared about herself. You noticed that whenever you shared anything about yourself, she listened attentively without any judgment. You liked the sound of her voice. Whatever connection you had found felt strange and weird. But warm. And happy.

When lunch was over, you both walked back to class together. You were sad when you took your seats at your desks and returned to your lessons. You already missed this new piece of your life. You just wanted to sit and keep talking to Nat. You strangely got your wish when your teacher instructed the class to pair up for a project. As the rest of the class paired up like normal, Nat looked over towards you.

“Want to be partners?” she asked.

When you nodded, she maneuvered her desk to sit a bit closer to yours. Now both of your desks sat further away from the others. You had never conceived that such a day like this would come to pass. Yet here it was, and you couldn’t be happier.

Somewhere Else – 2010

The burn of the cold mountain air is the only chill you feel as you lift the axe above your head. The muscles in your back protest for the umpteenth time. It’s only been a week since the Amsterham job, and your body is still recovering from the aftermath. Being thrown across a lobby into a pillar wasn’t particularly fun. It wasn’t the worst abuse your body has been through. Barely a fraction of it. But it still sucked.

You bring the axe down onto the log in front of you. The sharp, curved blade cuts deep into the wood. The smell of pine needles carries on the wind as you yank the axe free from the log. Your bright red plaid shirt clings to your sweaty skin. Your hair is tied back in a messy, low ponytail as you lift the axe back into the air. Dark green cargo pants with the ends tucked into tan boots covers your legs.

You hadn’t intended to dress up like a lumberjack. You had thrown on your clothes after waking up with a sore back, stared at yourself in the mirror, and wondered what she was doing right now. You had slipped out of Amsterdam without issue. The media had covered the incident with varying degrees of accuracy. There were mentions of charred remains, but no mention of you. Or her. The two days it had taken you to travel to this little piece of woodland paradise had been spent looking over your shoulder. Waiting for her to catch up with you.

The disappointment you felt upon reaching this place in one piece was a real mood killer. The fun was over, and now you were just left with yourself. You needed to do something. So, here you were with an axe in hand chopping up firewood. But your thoughts still linger on her. You wonder if she’ll ever find you here. You certainly hadn’t left any clues behind.

Your axe swings back down into the log, and it breaks cleanly in half. You set your axe down upon the grass and toss the chopped wood onto a growing pile off to your right. Then, you grab another log and place it squarely on the stump. Your hands find your axe again. You can’t decide if you liked her blue hair more than the red. You know that you loved when she was on top of you. You raise your axe. Regret weaves into your thoughts. You should have enjoyed it more. What if you never see her again? You bury your axe deep into the log.

“You have outdone yourself again.”

Finally. You were wondering when he’d show up.

You look over towards your father. He steps down from the cabin’s back deck. His thick black hair is combed back and peppered with white strands. Sunlight bounces off a pair of thin, brown wire frame glasses that covers his eyes. He buries his hands into the pockets of a heavy, amber colored jacket as he casually walks towards you. The denim blue jeans he wears bears a few grass stains and dried mud mares his gray loafers.

You yank your axe free and smile. “I made the front page.”

Your father returns your smile with one of his own, yet it is small and his steel gray eyes remain cold. “I saw. Apparently a shooting between rival criminals turned into a deadly explosion. All dead. The hotel won’t reopen until late next year due to the large hole in their building.”

A small laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “That is giving them too much credit.”

Your father’s brow furrows. “Who?”

“The men you told me to kill,” you answer as your attention returns to the log in front of you. “They were not rival criminals. They were rich men who wanted more. They reached too far, and I made them go boom.” You raise your axe up and quickly bring it down onto the log. It splits in half. “Except for Tyler.” You look over at your father. “I shot him in the head.”

“What was so special about Tyler?” he asks.

You shrug. “Nothing. Just felt like it.”

Your father lets out a sigh and turns away from you. He takes a few steps away. His hand lifts up, and he runs his fingers through his hair. You set your axe down and toss the newly split wood towards the steadily growing pile of new firewood. You start to reach for another log, but your father turns back around and returns.

“This job was important.”

It is your turn to sigh as your interest in splitting the next log vanishes. You knew this was coming. The conversation was always the same whenever one of your jobs ended in a mess. You can’t help the way your eyes instinctively roll. Your father steps closer.

“These clients are important.”

“It was boring,” you lift your axe up and rest it against your shoulder.

“I do not care how boring it was, Y/N.”

“Of course you don’t.” Any trace of your earlier amusement is gone. “You did not have to do any of the work. I did. I had to spend four days with an arrogant stranger who smelled like cheap cologne and even cheaper bourbon.” Your father shakes his head and turns away from you, but you are far from through with your rant. “All that money, and he is a cheapskate. Did you know that the first thing he made me do was beat up his driver because he wore the wrong tie? And there was no backup. Who doesn’t have backup?”

Your father turns back to face you. “Are you done?”

“No,” you reply. “I wanted to kill him then. After the first twenty minutes. But no. The important clients don’t want to tackle their problems one at a time. They want everything all at once.”

“They wanted this job to be subtle.”

“I do not understand why you are upset with me because your clients had unreal expectations,” you reply.

Your father frowns. “Because I trained you to be better than this.”

You don’t have a clever response for that. You turn and start to make your way towards the cabin.

“They are also upset that you left one of them alive,” your father says after a moment.

You stop as you reach the cabin’s back deck. You look back over towards your father. “Then their information is bad. All the targets are dead. It will probably take awhile to identify all the bodies. Shifting through the rubble from the charred limbs takes time.” You set your axe down and lean it against the side of the wooden cabin.

“They’ve already identified all the bodies,” your father says as he follows you towards the cabin’s back deck. “The targets, their hired security, the SHIELD team.” His voice goes cold around the last three words.

You stare at your axe. You knew he was going to find out eventually. There was always a report after every one of your jobs. He knew of all your successes and all your weaknesses. It still doesn’t stop you from feeling that first hint of fear. Rooted in so many memories. Your gaze returns to your father. The frown he wears looks so natural upon his face.

“I did not know that they would be involved,” you say.

“None of us did,” your father replies. “Why did you leave one of them alive?”

You feel the fear more keenly now. It’s like he’s reaching out for your favorite toy. You know what he’ll do when he gets it. But it’s yours, and he doesn’t get to touch it.

“I didn’t–”

“Y/N!”

You jump slightly at the way your father’s voice explodes like the crack of a gunshot.

“It’s her, Dad.”

Your voice is small as confusion softens the hard lines of your father’s face. It’s as if you are back in Ohio seeing the girl with blue hair for the first time. It had stolen the breath from your lungs the first time you saw her. So loudly different from the peaceful town tapestry. You thought you and your siblings were the only ones who stood apart. But then she entered your life.

“It’s Nat,” you say when your father’s confusion persists.

And just like that, his confusion falls away and his eyes widen.

“The Russian spy?”

A small smile curls your lips. “I didn’t get a chance to ask if that was true.”

“Oh no.” Your father’s hand runs through his hair again before shaking his head. “This is not good.”

“Dad.” You step towards him. “This is wonderful. I thought my only friend had been murdered.”

“That’s because you will believe anything your oaf of a brother tells you,” your father replies. “That girl was a spy. That whole family was built out of secrets and lies. Allowing you to form an attachment with her was a mistake. She was a distraction for you then, and she remains a distraction now.”

“She did not distract me,” you lie. “I completed the job. Is it now against the rules to socialize with old friends?”

“If she is working with SHIELD then she is your enemy,” the familiar coldness of your father’s voice returns sharply. “She threatens our reputation with our clients.”

“How?” you ask. “She did not stop me from killing my targets. She did not stop me from escaping. She did not follow me here.” Each and every one of those facts were crushing disappointments. “Your reputation remains intact. Nothing will change. I will complete the jobs you give me to the best of my ability. What does it matter if I talk to her? She will not stop me.”

You wait for your father’s argument, yet he says nothing. The look he gives you is familiar. He is studying. Assessing. It reminds you of the countless grueling training sessions in the basement of your home in Ohio. You would be sprawled out on the floor, staring up at him, covered in sweat and sucking in lungfuls of air. Desperate for the training to stop.

Finally, your father lets out a sigh and digs his hand back into his coat pocket. He withdraws a square, white envelope and extends it out towards you. “Your next job. Straightforward. I expect clean results.”

You smile and reach for the envelope. But before you can grab it, your father pulls it away.

“She cannot be a distraction, Y/N.”

Your smile falters. You want to point out that you already explained why she wasn’t. You want to stress that she’ll never be able to stop you from completing your jobs. What happened in Amsterdam was the result of a really long, awful job. You want to say all this, but you don’t. You wish that you were ignorant of the reason. But you know why. Because you aren’t certain what would have happened if that explosion hadn’t happened. If it had just been you and Nat.

But, you nod, and your father hands over the envelope. You take it.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #my fanfic #fic: i swear that i don't have a gun

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ghostofhyuck · 7 months ago

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Dead Man Runnin'

Dead man! Lee Donghyuck x Tourist! Reader

Summary: On a vacation at the neighbouring town’s lakehouse, you found yourself befriending a local named Haechan, who seems to be clueless about his town’s urban legend called ‘The Dead Man.’

Word count: 4.7k

TW: Contains violence, death, a bit of gore, and blood. NCT Dream and Aespa members are mean here, but it’s for the plot. Read at your own risk

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Summer has always been a joy for you. No school, great weather, and just spending the time lazing around.

But your friends have other plans for this summer. It’s understandable that it’s your last summer before you enter senior year in college. So you agreed to join even though you prefer to just stay at home and have your own solo activities.

That’s how you ended up in the minivan your friend owns, bags and luggages placed on the trunk, while the six of you squeezed inside the minivan. The radio is blasting with music, bass boosted that it can be heard from the outside.

“Fuck yeah!” Jaemin, the designated driver, shouts. Taking a chug from the can of beer he’s holding at the same time.

“Are you even sure we’re on the right route?” Karina, who’s in the driver’s seat asked. She’s seated there in case Jaemin fucks up, she can control the steering wheel.

“Duh, of course! I’ve been here many times.” Jaemin replies.

“Still weird that you chose this place when there’s a lot of good lake houses around,” Giselle complained, rolling her eyes.

“Just say you’re afraid,” Renjun teased. “Of the dead man!” tickling Giselle on the process making the girl scream and causing chaos at the backseat.

“Hey hey! You guys are the reason why we’ll get into an accident,” Jaemin shouts.

“The reason why we’ll get into trouble is you drunk-driving,” Jeno interrupts.

You only watch your friend’s tease each other, but you couldn’t help but pique curiosity at what Renjun said earlier.

“What’s the dead man?” you asked, making them fall into silence.

“Are you serious? You don’t know about it?” Renjun asked with a shocked tone.

You only shrugged, “why?”

“Hey, don’t blame yn, she’s not a local in the area,” Giselle said. Placing an arm around you. “There’s a myth about here where there’s a man who died but resurrected a week after.”

“That sounds bullshit.”

“It is said that he only shows up on clueless strangers and they say he murders people so that his lifespan increases.” your friend added.

You only laughed at her story, “that can’t be true.”

“It is! The longer story was that there’s a man who’s on his deathbed made a deal with the devil to remain immortal forever. He died eventually but became alive a week after and not only that, he also maintained a youthful look.” Renjun explains. “In exchange, he has to offer the souls and blood of people. The more people he offers, the more he remains immortal.”

“And that’s just a myth! So there’s nothing to be afraid yn,” Jaemin said, turning around to give you a wink. “I’ve been here since I was a kid and there’s no dead man here. If they did, then the killings should’ve been on the news already.”

“But there was a mass murder that happened during 1992. A group of friends were found dead at the lake house —”

“Which is on the other side of the town,” Jaemin added. “Seriously guys, we’re here to have fun, don’t ruin the vibe.”

The van turned left, towards a more secluded road. The road passed by empty lots and a forest area where wild trees and tall grasses stood firm. It became dim as the trees blocked the sunlight from the road. It was tranquil, you think, eyes staring at the view from the outside. Jaemin’s drive became smooth, it seems like he has already memorized the area.

He spotted an open steel gate and turned to enter the place. There awaits a small lake house that he has been going to ever since he was a kid. Jaemin parks the car in the parking area, and turns off the engines.

“We’re here! Let’s go!” Jaemin excitedly said, exiting the car first. One by one, all of you went out of the van.

You were in awe when you noticed that the place was beautiful indeed. It was quiet, clean, and empty too. It’s just the six of you there. The lake house was huge. There’s a few cabins built that can be rented by families or groups of friends, but in your case, Jaemin rented the whole place so that you guys can have the place on your own. The lake was just near, with a long dock that is perfect for diving and jumping. On the right is a trail path that leads to the deeper side of the woods.

“May I help you?” the six of you turned around and saw a guy who you assumed was the same age as you. He’s wearing a plain black tee shirt and khaki shorts. He’s perfectly tan and with a set of moles on his face. You were a bit intimidated by his blank expression but nonetheless, you found him attractive.

“Who are you?” Jaemin asked instead.

“Haechan, I work here,” Haechan introduced. He stretches his hand but your friend only stares at it.

“I didn’t know Aunt Hyojoo hired people,” Jaemin stated.

“I just started working here two months ago,” Haechan answered. “Just a small help because it’s not like Aunt Hyojoo’s getting any younger.”

“Yeah thanks, but I’ve been for so long, I know my way,” Jaemin offered him a smile instead, and started walking away. One by one, your friends followed Jaemin but you didn’t move.

You saw how Haechan retrieved his hand but out instinct, you grabbed it quickly. You saw how Haechan’s eyes went wide. You were surprised by your action too so you slowly shake it.

“Sorry…about Jaemin, he’s just like that,” you said. But in a split second, Haechan smiles.

“He’s kind of an asshole you know?” Haechan pointed out.

You only laugh. “Yeah, he’s a bit of a jerk, sorry about that.”

Haechan stares at you for a second. “He’s your boyfriend isn’t he?”

You were surprised by his question, “no! Goodness, he’s just a friend. I’m not his type either.”

“Why? You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, surprised by the sudden compliment from Haechan. He only gives you a smile and you swore that he has such a pretty face.

“Yn!” a voice called out, making you remove your hand from Haechan.

“Sorry, my friend is calling me,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Haechan nods. “See you around yn.”

You only smile as a goodbye before turning your heels around to go after your friends. As soon as you reached your friends, they began asking questions about what was that all about, about you only brushing it off. Convincing him that you’re just being friendly then proceeding to nag Jaemin about his behavior. Jaemin shrugs it off, and tells you that it was nothing.

After settling down your bags and luggages inside the cabin. The six of you plan the itinerary for the rest of the weekend. The area was huge. You guys have plans on camping overnight tomorrow into the deeper area of the woods, but for now, you guys agreed to stay within the vicinity of the lakehouse.

You changed into your swim suits, leaving the cabin with laughter and teasing. The sun was at its peak but it wasn’t hot so it wasn’t painful to stay outside. Soon, the boys came running towards the docks. Pushing playfully to the water while the three of you girls remained at the docks. Karina has her phone recording the chaos.

“We didn’t come here to use your phone!” Jeno shouted, splashing water against the three of you, making you three laugh.

The three of you followed them immediately. The lake was cool and deep enough for your reach. The six of you enjoy swimming around, and playing water games. It went on until your fingers started to wrinkle. Some of you rinsed while others remained on the water.

“Jaemin! Stop doing that!” you screamed when you felt someone grabbing your legs. Jaemin ascends from the water with a teasing smile, making you splash water on him as revenge.

“Sorry! Your expression was priceless!” Jaemin teases back, which makes you splash water on him even more. Soon, you two are there having a war until he wraps his arms around you. You squealed when he suddenly dipped into the water.

“You asshole!” you shouted, trying to push yourself from Jaemin who’s been laughing nonstop.

“It’s always fun teasing you yn~” Jaemin coos, pinching your cheeks in the process.

It made you stop, staring at Jaemin who’s only smiling at you. You always have a crush on Jaemin, but you know that it’s unrequited since you’re far from his ideal type. But it’s just a crush, it’s not like you’re dreaming of being his girlfriend. You still consider him as your friend despite the budding feeling.

“Hey lovebirds!” Renjun shouts, making you two turn around. “The sun’s almost setting, we should settle down for dinner!”

“We’ll be right there!” Jaemin shouted back.

“You can go first, I wanted to swim for a bit,” you told him.

“Just make sure you return before the night comes,” he reminded.

You only gave him a nod, watching him swim away from you. Soon, it’s just you, alone in the lake. You only let out a sigh as you lay down to float against the surface. The sky’s turning golden orange. Pink hues slowly appear as you can feel the cold water against your back. There’s no current in the lake, so you remain where you are floating. It feels so relaxing that you could only close your eyes.

It wasn’t that quickly that you heard footsteps, making you open your eyes and fix your position. As you looked up to the dock, you noticed that it was Haechan.

“Hey, it’s you again.” you said, swimming your way back to the dock.

“Having fun there?” Haechan asked.

“Yeah, never felt more relaxed than before,” then you reached your arm. “Care for a swim?”

“Maybe next time,” then he stands up. “You should rinse off now, it’s dangerous for you to be alone.”

His words remind you of something. That’s when you decided that’s enough for you. So you rise off from the dock’s ladder. Ignoring Haechan’s gaze at your body. You passed by him to grab your towel but you turned around to him.

“Is it because of the dead man?” you asked.

You saw how his forehead creased, “the dead man?”

“It’s a myth here, my friend said,” you pointed.

“It’s a hoax, like bigfoot,” Haechan explained, placing his hands on his pants’ pockets. “You still believe in that shit?”

You only shake your head, “not really, it’s my first time hearing about it.”

Haechan turns to his left then glances at you once again, “have fun here, I should get going now.”

“Wait —” you watch as he walks back to the lake house, following him you notice that Giselle was standing nearby the dock. She gave Haechan a side eye when the guy passed by him, then she only crossed her arms as she looked at you.

You shake your head as you walk your way to her. She didn’t say a word, so quietly, you two returned to the cabin.

Later that evening, the six of you decided to stay at the bonfire area to hang around. Cans of beer were passed around, and as the night became deeper so was the conversation. Senseless conversations were brought up, you guys were talking shit about some of your classmates, and then it shifted into a new topic.

“Seems like you’re getting cozy with that staff,” Giselle blurted out.

“Haechan? No, it’s nothing,” you denied.

“Ohhh, so it's a first name basis now,” Karina teased.

“Does it matter? Plus, I’m just being kind to him because someone couldn’t be nice enough to strangers,” you explained.

Jaemin laughed, “wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks that you being kind to him means you like him.”

“Why would you think of it like that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Come on yn, he looks like a town loser who has never touched a girl before,” Jaemin pointed out.

“I mean, you two can match each other, you've never touched a guy’s dick before haven’t you?” Giselle added. The rest of your friends let out a few “ohhh” and “oh shit.” different reactions but same meaning; they were teasing you again. You’re a virgin but that’s because you never wanted to indulge into sexual activities unlike your friends who revolve their life around it.

There’s peer pressure, you can feel it. But at the same time, you don’t want to give into peer pressure. You just hated that your friends still keep on teasing you about being a virgin when they know that you are that by choice.

“Whatever,” you said, standing up. “I’ll just get some water from the cabin.”

“Hey, what, I was just joking!” Giselle defended.

“Yeah right yn, you used to laugh it off,” Karina said.

But you ignored their words. Walking back towards the cabin, you didn’t go inside but instead, you sat at the staircase of the cabin. Letting out a sigh because your mood went sour. This vacation should be nothing but a nice getaway with your friends, that’s why you didn’t like how they went too far with the comment.

“Didn’t think I’ll see you here, alone,” you looked up and saw Haechan standing in front of you.

“Why is that, you’re always there when I’m alone,” you joked.

“I’m just doing my nightly patrol,” Haechan explained. “So, why are you here without your friends?”

You rolled your eyes, “friends, yeah right.”

“Seems like you’re not in a good mood, maybe I should just leave you alone —”

“Wait,” you stopped him. “No, I’m not mad at all. It’s just —” you turned around when you heard footsteps approaching.

You glance at Haechan which in a split second understands what you wanted to say. He grabs your hands and quickly, you two run towards the opposite direction of the sound. You don’t know why but you just let your feet take you where Haechan is dragging you. You didn’t notice that you two are off from the vicinity of the lakehouse. He went deep into the woods.

“Where are we?” you asked as soon as Haechan’s steps became normal. He never let go of your hands, he continued walking around the dimly lit path. It was pitch black and you two have nothing but Haechan’s flashlight.

“Somewhere away from your friends,” he answered shortly.

You two have been walking for a few minutes until he steps out of the wood, and as soon as you exit your eyes go wide at the view.

You found yourself staring at an empty field. There’s nothing but a small hill, the grass swaying lightly against the winds. It was eerily quiet but it was tranquil for you. But what amazed you more is that there’s fireflies around the area.

“It’s my first time seeing fireflies,” you said, eyes locked at the swarm. You turned around at Haechan who’s only staring at you.

“Thank you,” you said to him.

“Do you want to stay here for a while?” he asked.

And you did. You and Haechan sat on the field while the fireflies lit up the area. You could only stare at them for a few minutes until it sank into you the reason why you’re here.

You vent to Haechan about your friends. You love them so much, but sometimes they can be too much. You admit that you tend to feel out of place with them. The guys are athletes, while the girls are known to be very pretty and popular. You're plain jane. The goody-two-shoes who would rather stay home reading books rather than to party on a friday night. But nevertheless, your friends treated you genuinely.

It’s just there are times that they tend to cross the lines that you don’t like. And this is one of the teasings that went too far. You’re fine being teased as a virgin, but you didn’t like that they had to drag Haechan into the teasing.

“I don’t know why they have to involve you when they don’t even know you,” you explain. “They can’t even be nice to you.”

“It’s okay, they just think they’re superior when they stoop on other people,” Haechan laughed.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized once again.

“It’s not your fault, there’s no need to apologize,” he said smiling.

You smiled at him back, and from there, you two gaze at the view in silence. You only let out a sigh as you rest your head on your knees, feeling the cold breeze of summer night.

“It’s so much better here,” you mumbled. “I prefer this kind of stay.”

“You don’t want to go back?”

You shake your head, “no. I prefer your company.”

Haechan shyly looks away. Another silence engulfed you too. You couldn’t help but to stare at him. God, even at the dim night, you can still see his beautiful features. Slowly, you reached out your hands to trace the moles on his face. Not even touching him, Haechan flinched.

“Sorry,” you were about to retrieve your hands but he grabs it, ang gently, he places it on his cheeks.

It was soft, as he let go slowly of it, your fingers traced his moles. You were locked into it, not even noticing how his eyes are gazing at you.

You didn’t notice how Haechan slowly approached you, until your eyes went wide at close proximity.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, it made your heart skip a beat.

You only close your eyes as an answer, and in a few seconds, you can feel his soft lips crashing onto yours. You’re not new to kisses, that’s only how far you can go. That’s why you couldn’t help but to kiss him back, it was sweet, intimate, and something about it felt right.

Morning came and that’s when you decided to return to the lakehouse along with Haechan, you two were smiling widely as you walked your way back to the lakehouse.

“So that’s where you’ve been the whole night,” you stopped when you hear Jaemin’s voice.

“I can’t believe you ditched us just to be with him,” Giselle complained.

“Hey, let it slide guys, seems like yn had fun,” Jeno pointed out, earning gasps from your friend.

“No freaking way!? Never thought you’ll go down on him,” Karina teased.

“What? Guys what the fuck, we just slept, nothing happened,” you defended, but all of them ignored your words.

“No way, yn you’re kinda a freak you know that? Doing it in the woods,” Renjun teased.

“Bet you had fun with her didn’t you?” Jaemin asked, taking a step to approach Haechan. Your friend only smiles at him who only has a blank expression. “Was she good? I mean, she’s a virgin so she’s probably inex—”

You let out a scream when Jaemin fell on the ground, a trail of blood flowing out of his nose. He wasn’t able to fight back when Haechan topped him and continued punching his face.

“Haechan! Stop that! Stop that!” you said, trying to pull him away but Jeno and Renjun immediately backed-up but they weren’t able to fight back when Haechan landed a punch and kick on both of them, both falling into the ground limping.

“Haechan stop that! Please!” you begged as you tried to pull him away from Jaemin who’s almost unconscious.

“Stop it or I’m calling the cops!” Karina shouted, you managed to scream once again to call Haechan’s attention and with that, he stopped.

He stands up and drags you away from the scene.

“Haechan! Stop it! Haechan you’re hurting me!” you shouted. He stops and turns around, you only clutched at your wrist, feeling the pain of how tight his grip was.

“What the fuck was your problem!?” you shouted at him.

“What — have you heard what he just said to you!? And you’re defending him now?” Haechan asked in a disbelief tone.

“Still, you shouldn’t have done that! You could’ve killed him!”

“Trust me yn, I can kill him if I want to.” Haechan answered with a bored tone.

“You’re a monster!” you shouted, pushing him away. “Get away from me!”

He didn’t move when you turned your heels around. Haechan watched as you disappear from his sight. He lets out a sigh, glancing at his bloodied wrist. He only wipes it on his shirt before going back home.

Instead of going back to your friends, you found yourself at the dock of the lake. You don’t know what happened to your friends, they disappeared when you returned to the lakehouse. You feel guilty because a part of it was your fault. Maybe, if you sucked up all the teasing then this wouldn’t happen.

You’re worried about Jaemin, his face might’ve been disfigured at that point. All you can remember was blood and all the screaming, it was chaotic. You tried to close your eyes in hopes that it could erase the scene earlier, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t help but feel tears roll down on your eyes. So much for a summer getaway, you think. It’s all ruined because of you, and it becomes worse when you remember the words you said to Haechan.

Haechan was trying to defend you, he might have used it in the wrong way but he did that because he didn’t like what Jaemin said to you. It was horrible, you couldn’t condone what he did to Jaemin but it was still wrong of you that you said those words to him.

You know that the only thing that can solve all these problems is to apologize to everyone. It was you who started the fight after all. You pondered about it for a moment before you stood up from the dock and started walking back to the lake house when you felt droplets from the sky. You looked up and slowly, a downpour happened.

You ran yourself towards the cabin when you noticed that it’s locked, maybe they’ve brought Jaemin to the hospital, that’s why you raced yourself towards the small lodge where the owner is staying.

Aunt Hyojoo was a kind woman, she let you stay in one of her guest rooms, even offering you spare clothes and snacks.

“Teenagers, I am used to it, this fight is just small compared to what I witnessed,” she jokes, staring at the window. “Looks like this rain isn’t going to stop at any moment.”

“Do you think they’ll return here?” you asked, munching on the biscuit.

“Oh! It’s nothing dear, they’ll be here before sun down,” she said, smiling.

“By the way, do you happen to know where Haechan’s house is? I want to visit him,” you asked.

You saw how his forehead creased in confusion. “Haechan? Who is Haechan?”

“He’s your staff? He said he started working here two months ago.”

“Are you sure dear? I don’t hire any staff here.”

You became quiet. Her confession fell deaf to your ears. You stared at her, who gave you a confused look, that’s when you fake a smile. You stared at the window where the rain continued pouring, wondering when it would stop.

You stayed at the lodge the whole day. With the rain accompanying you, you only slept for the duration of your stay. The rain became heavier mid-afternoon and it was nearing sun down when it became light drizzle. That’s when you decided to search for Haechan and apologize to him.

Your white shoes became muddy as you tried to find your way back to the woods — the same place where you left Haechan. Holding an umbrella and a flashlight, you venture out even though you’re not familiar with the route, you trust your instincts and choose the path that looks like a man would walk onto it.

After a few minutes of finding your way, you’ve escaped the woods but you were frozen to see what’s the end of the woods.

A cemetery. You couldn’t help but feel goosebumps running on your skin as tons of tombstones welcomed you. Different tombs and mausoleums stood tall at the hectare. Your hands shakingly cover your open mouth. Some are old, covered in ivy and moss, but some are fresh, newly placed. You took a step back, not noticing the wild ivy behind. You screamed as it tangled around your ankle. You kicked it out of your feet and scrambled your way back into the woods.

You tried to find your way back, but due to your panic, you couldn’t remember your path back. You tried to look everywhere but everything’s pitch black. It wasn’t until you heard a faint scream from a far. Your eyes widened, you knew that scream, so with an agitating body, you tried to follow that scream.

As you reached the lake house. You were surprised at how eerily silent it was. There were no lights either, and not even Aunt Hyojoo’s lodge. You were about to go straight to your cabin when something catches your attention. You aim your flashlight at it, and you couldn’t help but to scream at your view.

It was Jaemin’s minivan, crashed into the wall, the front’s completely crushed, and the windows were destroyed. What shocks you the most is your friends are inside, unconscious.

You were about to step in to rescue them when someone grabbed your hands.

“What the fuck!? Giselle!?” you were confused to see Giselle, blood trailing on her forehead. She was crying and shaking, and couldn't even mutter a word.

“What happened!? Tell me!” you screamed, but you were only answered with her cries.

“He…he did it…” Giselle mumbles.

And before she could even say another word, Giselle felt a small tug on her back. You watch as her mouth starts to vomit blood. You were shocked at the scene, not even properly processing everything when Giselle dropped onto the ground and fell flat on the ground. You let out a scream when you saw that an axe stabbed her back.

“Now that’s a bullseye,” you looked up and saw Haechan. Smirking devilishly as he walks his way towards you, you took a step backward but due to shock, you fell on the ground. You watch as Haechan grabs the ax with ease, and if it wasn’t enough, he swings the ax and in a split second, your friend's head rolls onto you.

You scraped your way away from him not until you felt someone grabbing your ankle. You struggled out of his touch but you were only welcomed with an inflicting slit on your ankle, making you scream in pain.

“What? You’re going to kill me?” you taunted as Haechan walked his way towards you. He kneels in front of you, chin resting on the end of the ax. That’s when you noticed that he’s all covered in blood.

“Not really, I mean I got five people already, it’s enough for me to survive,” he gives you a smile, and that’s when you knew.

“You’re the dead man,” you mumbled.

“Seriously, people could’ve given me a better name,” he rolled his eyes. “But yeah, I am him.”

“Now what, you’re going to kill me too?”

“You’re stupid, aren’t you?” Haechan taunts. Grabbing a fistful of your hair to lift you up so he could face you. You only groaned in pain as you can see Haechan’s gaze at you. “I have no intentions of killing you dear, you’re going to be mine.”

“You’re insane.”

He gives you a smirk, eyes darkening as he only tilts his head at you. “Funny because that's what the devil said to me.”

You pushed him away, making Haechan fall from the ground. You took the opportunity to stand up but you only let out a painful scream as you felt your left ankle numb. You tried your best to drag your feet away but you failed to do so when Haechan grabbed you, hugging you from behind.

“You really think you can escape from me?” he asked, voice more threatening than usual.

“Let go of me! Or better, just kill me!” you screamed as you struggled your way out.

“Oh no dear, I have no plans of killing you,” Haechan laughed. “If it means dealing with another contract, I’ll make you spend the rest of your life with me.”

And with that, he turns your body around, facing him who only has nothing but desire in his eyes. “You’re going to be mine forever.”

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct haechan fic #nct haechan #haechan fic #haechan x reader

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peanutbutterandbananasandwichs · 29 days ago

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Post of an old fic I thought I had on Tumblr but apparently don't. Since there's been some Sam and John discussion on the dash recently.

May 2nd 1992

“What is it?” Sam asked, eyeing, with more than a little suspicion, the small, brown paper package his father held out stiffly towards him.

“What do you think it is?! It’s a birthday present stupid!” Dean appeared from behind John and, grinning ear to ear, dropped himself down on the bed next to Sam. “Go on then!” he gave Sam an enthusiastic and somewhat painful nudge in the ribs as Sam took the proffered item.

Sam’s hands fumbled at the edges of the sticky-tape, carefully peeling it back, trying not to rip the paper. He felt at a total loss, they'd stopped doing birthday present since when was five, well, from dad at any rate. He and Dean usually tried to scrape something together for eachother, even if that something was just a half melted candy bar, or, once a thoroughly inappropriate magazine Dean had swiped from the check in desk of the motel they’d stayed at a week earlier. But this was from Dad.

Sam swallowed, he glanced up at John, who tossed Sam's hair, and gave a softly gruff "Go on kiddo" then back at the parcel. Dean gave him another sharp poke. He gripped the paper and pulled, tearing it from end to end. He’d clearly over-compensated though as something long, thin and that flashed bright as it caught the dim motel room light tumbled out of the paper and onto the floor. “Sorry! Oh I’m s-sorry” Sam leapt to his feet to retrieve the item, a warm flush spreading across his cheeks, as he scrabbled back to the bed. “Smooth” muttered Dean, Sam flashed him a scowl, somewhat mired by the rosy glow of embarrassment that had reached his nose by now. “Well” John said “this makes you a real hunter now Sammy” he paused then added “not that you’d guess from that display” under his breath.

Sam turned his eyes to the object grasped in his hand. It was a knife. Small, silver blade, plain, practical and unadorned, save for three words scratched into the wooden handle. On one side was his own name “SAM” the other was inscribed “FROM DAD”, it occurred dimly to Sam that coming from other parents there might have been a “love” in there somewhere, but then again other parents probably didn’t give their nine year olds knifes for their birthdays. Sam looked up at John and he saw the corner of his mouth turned up into a smile. His gaze returned to the knife. It was only small, but as John’s words echoed in his head “this makes you a real hunter now” it felt as if it were made of lead.

But there was Dean, still grinning widely, excitement and expectation etched across his face, Sam forced his features into something happy and gave mumbled “thank you”, trying not to look either of them directly in the eyes lest they caught the look he still felt lingered behind them. Dean practically bounced off the bed as he exclaimed “come on Sammy, I’ll teach you how to fight with it!” before adding a hasty “if dad says it’s ok…” John nodded as Dean grabbed Sam’s still slightly chubby hand in his and dragged him outside to the deserted car park.

Sam, as it turned out, was a natural, his small frame was ideally suited to the ducking, weaving flow, and after a time he even found himself beginning to enjoy it, it felt almost more like dancing than fighting, he could almost forget that someday it would be something much bigger, fastest, sharper toothed than his brother on the other end. Eventually they both collapsed to the ground, exhausted and laughing dumbly at each other. Just as Sam was attempting to clamber back to his feet, he found his eyes drawn toward the motel room doorway, John stood, leaning upon the frame and watching him with a look Sam wasn’t sure he entirely recognised, but if he had to make a guess, he would have said something approaching ‘pride’. The smile slipped from his lips. Somehow it wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.

---

May 5th 2006

They work in silence, barely even looking at one another.

Dean assembles the crates that will form the platform, while Sam gathers branches, breaking the longer ones over his knee, snapping off twigs and collecting dry leaves for kindling. They both let the work consume them, focus them.

Sam thinks about the placement of every last piece of wood with meticulous detail, to make sure it’ll burn hot and long enough to fulfil its purpose. When they are done, Sam tries to fuss with the last few branches for a minute or so longer, ‘if he just moved them a fraction to the right…’ but Dean gently pushes him away, their first interaction in hours.

Dean carefully slots his arms under the white wrapped form and then lifts up their father’s body. He looks like he’s struggling slightly with the weight, but when Sam inches forward to help he just shakes his head and Sam falls back, watching as Dean reverently places John upon the crates. Even in death he looks, somehow overwhelming present and impossibly distant at once. Sam knows his hands aren’t fit to touch him, to sully the pure white linen.

He feels tears trickling down his cheeks; he bows his head, keeping his face hidden as Dean marches past him, heading back over to the Impala parked a little distance away, to fetch the gasoline. Sam wipes at his face with his sleeve, he glances over toward the car, and Dean’s busying himself with something in the trunk. Sam reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the knife.

Looking at it properly for the first time in years. His name is almost completely rubbed out, worn away from fourteen years of use. He turns it once and there on the other side, seemingly, miraculously untouched by the years “DAD”. And Sam feels the anger and frustration of a lifetime prickling through the guilt and the grief, because isn’t that how it’s always been? Sam erasing himself, losing everything that was him for dad’s damn war. And that’s how dad had always seemed, immutable, indestructible…and now… Sam looks up at the body, lying silent and cold, wrapped in its shroud upon the pyre and he feels himself shiver, with loss and pain and blame and anger. He reaches out, knife in hand, and places it upon his father’s chest.

He remembers that brief moment of hopeful pride in John’s eyes when Sam had first danced about that motel car park with it and Dean and how every single moment since then he’d let him down “not good enough Sam” “can’t you even listen to one goddamn thing I tell you!”, all the fights “I’m glad your mother doesn’t know what a piss poor excuse for a son you turned out to be” “you walk away now don’t you dare come back” and those looks he sometimes gave of something deeper than disappointment. It feels as if somehow the knife contains all of these, the symbol of everything his father had planned for him and all the ways Sam had screwed it up. He remembers how heavy it had felt, when he’d first held it in his small, nine year old hands. He’s twenty two now, and well over six foot, strong and lean, but the weight of the knife feels no less. The weight of the childhood he never had.

The feel of it sinking into flesh for the first time, scarlet beading and flowing down the blade, staining his hands in a way he could never scrub clean. Digging out the bullet from the hole in Dad’s shoulder “faster boy”. The mixture of relief and horror as he drew blood from his own arm for the first time, locked in the bathroom of the apartment, voice still horse from screaming at Dad, tears, still wet and sticky, clinging to his lashes.

Dean comes back, if he sees the knife, now resting upon John’s sternum, he doesn’t say a word, he just pours the gas onto the pyre, he lights a match and holds it to Sam’s carefully placed kindling until there is a crackle as it catches and then leaps, licking hungrily over the gas soaked branches and up until it surrounds and envelopes the shroud wrapped form. Sam and Dean stand side by side now, Sam turning his head slightly to see his brother staring blank and unseeing into the flames, the lights dancing in his eyes.

Sam turns his own eyes back to the pyre, he watches as the light of the flames glints off the knife blade, the tears start to fall again, white hot as the flames and this time he lets them, Dean won’t see them. The flames reach the handle. He watches as all that remains of his childhood is eaten away, it died so long ago, maybe now it can be laid to rest. It always belonged to dad more than him anyway.

#sam winchester #spn #spent it on ammo #very brief #cw self harm #I've always liked this one

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anandrettisimp · 3 months ago

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I figured I should really live up to the username.

So ladies, gentlemen and friends outside the binary, let’s talk about Michael Andretti, probably one of the most fascinating of next gen drivers.

For an adorable start, he didn’t fully understand what Mario did when he was young, once telling a teacher that his dad “Goes to the airport and makes bread.” because that was how Mario would explain it when asked where he was going.

But yeah, as much as Mario was out driving everything with an engine, he never encouraged his children to follow his career path. In fact, as Michael started to seriously consider a racing career, Mario had made him go to community college, where he studied business studies, just so he had something to fall back on if it didn’t work out.

So although Mario didn’t push him into racing, by the time he chose it, there was no getting around who his dad was.

An F1 and IndyCar champion.

And anyone who may of approached him expecting the same witty sound bites as they had came to expect from Mario were no doubt in for a surprise when they got his far more introverted son.

Which probably added to how overly focus in on racing he was to cope.

Like, sponsor doing a dinner the day before a race, Michael will show up. But was he there by the time the meal came out?

Probably not.

But he won races and the CART championship in 1991.

He also had one of the biggest heart breaks at Indy in 1992 where, after leading 160 laps and also having to compartmentalise his dad and brother’s crashes, on lap 189, his fuel pump failed as he had half a lap on the field.

And then the McLaren call happened.

That chance at the pinnacle of racing.

That series that the last American race winner, never mind champion, was his dad.

And oh boy was it a crash and burn.

Between the change in engine supplier, Senna “leaving” and coming back, rule changes, it was a recipe for disaster.

Of course Michael didn’t help matters as he didn’t move to the England.

Mostly because his plan was to move his young family with him which apparently hadn’t gone down well with his then wife.

There were times were he would be at a test, there was issues with the car and Michael would be told to go home. The car would then be fixed and Mika Hakkinen (who would have been in the car in the first place if Senna hadn’t changed his mind) would continue the test.

Ron Dennis would have dropped Michael sooner but Mario begged him to let his son do Monza.

While it’s no longer the last points scored by an American thanks to loints, it’s still the last podium by one.

There was a story that I can no longer find that after he was dropped Michael showed up at a race and just invited himself into McLaren hospitality just to wind up Ron and like, respect.

So it was back to CART and in 1994, in his first race back, he won.

It’s at this point that I’m going to stop talking about Michael’s career cause I think you all have an idea now.

But now Marco, Michael’s eldest child, was getting into racing at the go kart level. He was winning races and championships yet Michael wasn’t happy. While he was now in his father’s position, he had also been in his son’s. Michael’s brother Jeff and cousin John also had racing careers in their own rights by then (though neither were as successful as Mario or Michael).

So he asked Marco a question.

Was he having fun.

Marco couldn’t answer, later on he admitted that he wasn’t as, as far as he was concerned, he was doing what was expected of him as an Andretti. Now I should point out this was what a nine year old was thinking.

As a result, Michael withdrew him from racing for a year so that Marco could decide if actually wanted to race or not.

That’s right, Michael put his child’s mental health and well being ahead of any family legacy desire. Did it work out in the long run? Probably not I mean, Marco managed to get bullied in a private school due to being an Andretti which is fucking wild but he supported his son decisions. Heck, he even let him apply for a certain seat at Penske that Will Power ended up getting (allegedly Marco was amongst the final drivers before they went for Will so there’s a hell of a what if for you all).

His second child Marissa, she went to university and as much as she could of and did work elsewhere, decided she wanted to join Andretti Autosport. She’s now Vice President of Andretti Global and the Managing Director of Andretti Technologies. Like, see that new base they’re building in Fishers, Indiana for all of Andretti’s teams? She’s the one in charge of that.

Middle child Lucca doesn’t seem to be involved at all in motorsport while his youngest children, twins Mia and Rio, are still in school and although Rio apparently likes playing in go karts, he’s got no desire to actually compete.

And Michael respects that.

He has been the son of.

He’s been the father of.

And he’s been able to give his children the option without putting pressure on them.

#indycar #michael andretti #mario andretti #andretti autosport

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itspercyintime · 1 year ago

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Movies I think Percy would show Annabeth below the cut

Cars. I think he would show her the rest of the Cars movies as well and tell her all the lore bc Percy probably had a Cars phase

2. Johnny Tsunami. I know I watched this as a kid and I don't really remember the plot but I stand by my choice

3. The Parent Trap. Idk maybe I'm just projecting bc I love the parent trap

4. Practical Magic. I feel like Sally watches this for Halloween every year and Percy can pretty much quote it by heart atp

5. Ferris Bueller's Day Off. LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME PERCY WOULDN'T LOVE THIS MOVIE

6. Twilight. Not because I think Percy likes Twilight but because it's a canon event and he won't deprive her of that

7. The Sound Of Music. I watched this like four times as a kid at my aunt's house and to ME Grover added this to the watchlist

8. A League Of Their Own. Annabeth would ADORE this movie (I'm totally not biased this is totally not my favorite movie)

9. Newsies (1992). He probably shows her the broadway version later but this one first even if only for it's versions of Seize The Day and King Of New York

10. Ice age. No justification needed

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo tv

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harrisonarchive · 1 year ago

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Scan - George and his second car, photographed by Mike McCartney; scanned from Mike’s book, Remember.

“Not long after he bought the Ford, George could afford to trade it for a flash Jaguar. It was the first time I’d ever been in a car where you just pressed a button and the window wound up and down by magic. When he knocked on our Allerton front door demanding photos of his latest acquisition, I protested, ‘But, George, it’s getting dark.’ ‘Bring your flash,’ came the reply. ‘And it’s raining!’ I added. ‘Bring your umbrella,’ he finalized.” - Mike McCartney, Remember (1992) (x)

#George Harrison #Mike McCartney #quote #quotes about George #Harrison cars #harrisonarchive scans #1962 #1960s #fits queue like a glove

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myloveforhergoeson · 26 days ago

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Declan had thought that dropping Roxanne off at the airport would be the hardest part, but in all honesty, he hadn’t thought much beyond that at all.

Everything had happened so fast.

One moment, bundled up in a blanket thanks to the December weather, she was sitting at the breakfast table, telling him about an ad she’d read on her radio show for a talent competition coming to Duluth, Minnesota in February. The next, she was hunched over her songbook every free moment she had, playing the guitar they’d saved up to buy her, perfecting her pop song repertoire.

It was quite a ways off, genre-wise, from the songs he’d taught her growing up or the songs she’d written and performed with the punks who dared to call themselves her friends in Brand New Day. Roxy had always been far more versed in popular culture than he ever was and the portfolio she’d put together to stun Gustavo Rocque reflected that.

And, just as he had hoped, his daughter’s hard work paid off. The last 24 hours had been filled with more phone calls and contracts than Declan had ever seen in his entire life. Negotiating a salary far too large for someone so young, setting up a one-bedroom apartment so she didn’t have to share with strangers, packing all of her belongings in boxes and into the back of a moving van making a cross-country trek…

Jesus, the thirty-five-year-old thought as he pulled his car into the garage. If Roxy were here, she’d make them wait until the song on the tape she’d put in was done playing, but Declan just turned the key with a sigh. I didn’t even ask about schooling…

Surely Hollywood had some rules about that. The entertainment industry was full of kids, some far younger than his teenager, and most of them seemed to turn out alright.

Except for the ones who didn’t… The Dad Voice in the back of his head reminded him.

Taking his boots off at the door, Declan shook the thought out of his brain. It was too late to turn back now.

Even if he did change his mind, hop on a plane, and drag his daughter back home, he knew it would alter their relationship forever; He could just imagine Roxanne puffing her cheeks out as her arms crossed against her chest, nostrils flaring the same way his did whenever he grew upset.

The title she’d proudly boast about him, “Best Dad in the World,” would quickly be rescinded and swapped out for “Worst Man Alive” in the blink of an eye.

For the last sixteen years, Declan had hated his parents, too, and understood all too well what it was like to have your dreams stomped at and spat on. To be so unsupported, even in his time of greatest need.

As long as he was alive, however, his daughter would never, ever feel that way.

That was why, the moment he realized they shared the same musical penchant he’d done all he could to help her talent bloom. Buying her first guitar at age six, showing her how he’d written songs for his band, driving Brand New Day - and all of their gear - all around Duluth to whatever gigs they managed to book…

When he walked into the kitchen, it was dark; Only the light above the stove was turned on from when Roxy was using it earlier. Flipping the overhead lights on, Declan felt his eyes drawn to the radio and cassette tape player on the windowsill.

The faded red machine was ancient, but somehow, still worked like a charm. He’d taken it with him, stuffed precariously into his carry-on luggage when he’d boarded the plane from Austin, Texas, to Duluth, Minnesota alone in 1992.

One week later, he’d walked into the shittiest, cheapest studio apartment he could find with his newborn daughter cradled into his arms. It was on that very same tape player he’d played Roxy her first song: “Roxanne” by the Police.

Years later, on the windowsill of their first house, it played the first song Roxy had ever written on one of the local radio stations.

He’d never seen Roxy smile so brightly, bits of Oreo Fluff Salad stuck in between her teeth as the two celebrated together.

“Brand New Day is really going places,” She’d assured him, once the home-recorded tune faded out and into the next alternative hit, and Declan knew it to be true. “Once we win the Minnesota Battle of the Bands, some fancy label is sure to pick us up!”

It was then, that Declan realized Roxy wouldn’t be living with him forever. He just hadn’t expected the day to come so soon.

When he took note of the trail the wheels of her suitcase had left in the beige carpet in the hallway leading to their bedrooms, the craving for the taste of a soothing cigarette hit him like a freight train. Technically, if he had one now, he wouldn’t be breaking the promise he’d made to Roxy to quit after he’d caught her and Dani lighting up on the back porch. No one would be around to chastise him, but it still felt wrong, so he managed to abstain.

The choice just brought him to his liquor cabinet instead, eyes scanning the few bottles he had stashed up and out of Roxy’s reach to decide on whichever one might help make him feel temporarily better about his new living situation.

What new types of things will Roxy discover in Hollywood? The Dad Voice asked and Declan silenced it by grabbing the clear bottle of vodka with a grumble.

Hand wrapped around the neck, it felt lighter than it had the last time he’d brought it out to mix into some old, flat Coke from the back of the fridge. There was no doubt in his mind the theft was probably the last one pulled by Mag and Roxy before their big blowout right before Christmas.

Declan was starting to realize, as dumb as it sounds now, that there was nothing his daughter hadn’t left her mark on in their home, and it was becoming increasingly, and annoyingly, apparent as he soaked in the true emptiness of the house.

With Roxy gone, would it ever feel like home again?

#ok fandom exile i accept it...#i have some big feelings about declan so here they are #thats all she wrote fic

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bubblesandgutz · 1 month ago

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Every Record I Own - Day 835: Minutemen Double Nickels on the Dime

If I were to lose my entire record collection in a fire, the first albums I would replace would be Miles Davis' In A Silent Way, Rolling Stones' Exile on Main St, Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, and Minutemen's Double Nickels on the Dime. Of all those albums, Double Nickels has been in my life the longest.

It wasn't the first Minutemen album I owned (that would be the Post Mersh Vol 1 compilation) nor would it be the first Minutemen album that I really fell in love with (that would be Buzz or Howl Under the Influence of Heat), but it's the album that best encapsulates and captures all that I love about Minutemen.

With 45 songs at a runtime of over 80 minutes, it's a very dense album. As the San Pedro trio was fond of explaining, this was their "art album," which presumably means they were straying even further from the punk formula of their SoCal peers. Bassist Mike Watt ditched the pick and started playing with his fingers, nudging the band into funkier territories. Guitarist D. Boon revealed an aptitude with his instrument only hinted at on previous recordings and established his place as one of the greatest players in the punk scene. Drummer George Hurley slowed the tempos and leaned into the groove. There is very little on Double Nickels that sounds traditionally punk, unless you look back to the guitar dexterity of Television's Marquee Moon or the stabby rhythms of Gang of Four's Entertainment! To further confuse things, there were covers of Creedence Clearwater Revival, Van Halen, and Steely Dan on the album, and they blended in seamlessly with the original material.

It was a lot to process as a 15-year-old punk back in 1992. Minutemen had been big with my peer group in Hawaii, but I'd moved to Washington over the summer, and none of the punks or skaters I knew on the mainland gave two shits about the band. The "cool" factor for the band had disappeared in the move. But there was still something fascinating about Double Nickels, even if the music felt a bit unapproachable.

There was almost a kind of separate culture that surrounded Minutemen. Their vernacular was strange... a combination of SoCal surfer-speak, trucker slang, working class drawl, and literary sophistication. Their lyrics were both topical and cryptic. The incorporation of Raymond Pettibon illustrations in their album art added another layer of tension, mystery, and irreverence. They had a blue-collar aesthetic with a political bent and an art-minded approach. There simply wasn't another band that looked, sounded, or exuded the same aura as Minutemen.

There were Easter eggs hidden all over the album. Watt had just read Ulysses and seemed intent on mirroring the book's layers of meaning and sly humor (there's even a song called "June 16th" in homage to Bloomsday). The album title was a poke at Sammy Hagar's "I Can't Drive 55," with "double nickels" referring to the 55 mph speed limit and "the dime" referring to Highway 10, which leads into their hometown of San Pedro. The album cover, an homage to Kraftwerk's original Autobahn album art, captures Watt in his car with the speedometer at a steady 55 while the highway sign for the 10 is seen through the windshield. The sequencing of the album was an homage to Pink Floyd's Ummagumma with each member getting a side of the record to curate at their will and with all the remaining songs allocated to side D.

The music was a riddle in and of itself. Songs like "#1 Hit Song" and "Political Song for Michael Jackson to Sing" seemed to reinforce the album title's criticism of pop music's banality while basking in contradictions, such as the puzzling decision for Boon to drop a blazing guitar solo in the latter after singing "if we heard mortar shells, we'd cuss more in our songs and cut down on guitar solos." There's the intensely autobiographical "History Lesson pt 2" but also the self-referencing diss track "One Reporter's Opinion." The ominous and odd-timed "God Bows to Math" segues into the country two-step of "Corona." Hurley prioritized the clatter-and-scat of "You Need the Glory" as the opening to his side of the 2xLP over the power anthem of "Themselves."

And there were the lyrics to parse out. What's a punk kid supposed to make of lines like "me naked with textbook poems / spout fountain against the Nazis / a weird kind of sex symbol?" Or "the world was wrong and I was forced to march in line / but it felt like handcuffs / machines disregard my pronouns?" One moment it's "no hope / see, that's what gives me guts / big fucking shit / right now, man," but then it's "let the products sell themselves / fuck advertising / commercial psychology / psychological methods to sell should be destroyed."

I eventually made a commitment in November '92 to listen to Double Nickels in its entirety every day of the month. It was partially an endurance test. Could I do it? But it was also an attempt at deciphering what I was hearing. Surely this must all make sense somehow. And here I am 34 years later, still intrigued, mystified, and engaged by the album. I still hear something new every time I listen to it. There are still more in-jokes, references, and nuggets of wisdom to glean from it. It's a work of art that requires patience and attention, but it's also just a straight-up piece of celebratory joy and working class angst.

There's an entire world embedded in Double Nickels. It has its own language. It's own philosophy. It's own musical logic. It's own humor. It's own cultural reference-points. And it continues to be a world I want to visit on the regular.

#everyrecordiown #minutemen

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flmboyz · 1 year ago

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#flm boyz #ford #lincoln #mercury #billet rims #ford motor co #car ads #1990s #1992 car ads

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toxifoxx · 2 months ago

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How would/does David fit into wider fnaf lore?

UHHH it kinda depends (and keep in mind some things may be subject to change)! since i have two concrete timelines with him, good and bad. i won't go over the good timeline much since it's essentially "what if they lived happily ever after and nothing bad happened at all". and bad timeline sort of follows canon and david is attached to william like glue basically. to be honest.

(added a cut because i yapped a lot omg)

he learns about the murders when william drunkenly confesses to them one night when they're together. and while its shocking it doesnt have the same impact on david that it should. he doesn't care and in fact actively assists william in covering them up. and he runs off with william when william disappears, as well as when he returns with a change of identity. david himself doesnt change much, aside from in appearance (and in career. henry doesnt want him at freddy's anymore (due to heavy association with william) so he's a car mechanic now) - though he was questioned at one point for the murders, he was never a major suspect, so he has no real reason to be hiding.

william actually doesn't want david to follow him after he picks up the identity of dave, for once in his life worrying about ruining the life of the last person he loves (but david finds him again. its hardly a challenge, even if it takes a couple weeks). for those last two years (1992-1993) he's basically just a househusband. but also 'takes care' of anyone who seems on the cusp of recognizing william.

and then when william turns up missing one night he, of course, tracks him down again. finding him in the not-yet-sealed saferoom where he also gets cornered by the ghosts (who recognize him as an accomplice). and while david is a bit dumb(admittedly), the main reason he chooses to get in the springlock suit in that moment is not because of mere self-preservation, but because he sees it as a way to rejoin william. thus making wolftrap (in about ten years time).

CIRCLING BACK AROUND TO MENTION: when david is included in the timeline (i dont consider him canon in my main AU), clara divorces william around the time of evan's death at which point david swoops in to claim him (he was already working at fredbear's and had been flirting with william, but now they could "officially" be together).

he tries to become a father figure to lizzie and michael but he's more suited for the cool uncle archetype than being a father. he actually almost gets close though. but then lizzie Dies. and he never gets to complete bonding with michael when william leaves (he feels bad for the boy, though. however, ultimately william is his priority).

david and william also get married shortly after running away & they're living well off leftover money from the franchise's success. they toy with the idea of having another kid but ultimately william fails to conceive (lasting springlock injuries + poor health + age).

#hopefully i answereed this right... THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE QUESTION RAAAAAAHHHHH #toxi.txt #asks #oc:david connor #toxi fnaf lore #self insert #fnaf oc

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hirocimacruiser · 6 months ago

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●CEFIRO (A31) Autech version

●Overall length x overall width x overall height: 4690 x 1695 x 1375mm Wheelbase: 2670 mm ●Tread (F/R): 1460/1455mm Vehicle weight: 1400kg

Engine: RB20DET water-cooled inline 6-cylinder DOHC turbo 1998cc Maximum output:225PS/6000rpm Maximum torque: 30.0kg-m/2800rpm Suspension Front (F/R): Strut/Multilink Brake (F/R): V disc/V disc Price: 3,393,000 yen (5MT)

BUYER'S MEMO

Market price rises due to popularity of drifting

Due to the popularity of drifting and the so-called "oni camp", the used car market price for the A31 Cefiro, which has become popular as a base car with such specifications, seems to have gone up. Of these, the most popular is the twin-cam turbo sports cruising model. As far as this grade is concerned, 1.2 million yen is still a ridiculous amount. Additionally, unfortunately, there are fewer cars in normal state.

The Autech version, which is the vehicle we photographed this time, is produced in extremely low numbers, so even if you can find a good one, it will definitely be quite expensive.

PIC CAPTIONS

By adding a large turbine to the RB20DET and changing the cam and port shapes, it produces 225PS, an increase of 20PS.

The genuine leather-wrapped steering wheel that fits comfortably in your hand is made by Italvolante, Italy. This is also an equipment exclusive to Autech.

Aluminum wheels made by PIAA exclusively for the Autech version Cefiro

The size is 6JJ x 15, which is the same as the normal one.

Autech version exclusive emblems attached to the left and right sides of the front fender.

Carefully tanned Connolly leather

The seat is fully equipped with adjustment mechanisms such as dual lifters and lumbar support.

Exclusive seat and door trim made from genuine leather made by British company Connolly, which has a luxurious feel and has been used on many famous European cars and luxury cruise ships.

A trunk with a mechanism that turns into a tray and armrest when folded down. Also trunk hood

A special rear spoiler is installed.

The same rear multi-link suspension as the Silvia is made up of multiple links and ideally controls tire movement according to road conditions. The basic movements of running, turning, and stopping exhibit extremely high levels of grip.

Demonstrate your ability to move.

Early type sports touring. After MC in 1992, all cars were 2.5 liters with 3 number plates.

Since the Autech version was also slightly changed after the first MC, there are two types: an early type and a mid-term type.

MAIN TEXT TRANSLATION.

Our Standard Neo Historic Jays

Anti-high-soccer cars that bring a new sensation

Cefiro is a car that is often seen in towns and mountain passes with a strong negative camber and is considered to be a representative example of a demon-camber spec car. Nowadays, we have a strong image of such a drift machine, but when it was first announced, it had a very different impression. Under the catchphrase ``Kuneru Asobu,'' the product was sold with a strong personality and a unique coordination system that appealed to the new sensibilities of urban comfort enthusiasts. Eventually, as this new sensation wore off, another side began to attract attention. Well-made suspension with multi-link + HICAS-II, high-power engine, and FR...

Text: Yoshio Ishikawa Photography: Hiroyuki Matsuoka Vehicle cooperation: Kenichiro Takashima

A new sensation sedan introduced during the Mark II's heyday.

Today's sedans are said to be ``sluggish'' due to being pushed around by buskers and the like, but 10 years ago it was often said that sedans were enjoying the spring of the world in the mid to late 1980s. I was in a situation where I was.

Among these, the upper middle class has seen particularly rapid growth. This must have been an expression of the consciousness that all 100 million people are middle class. Under the name High Society, the popularity of the white Mark II continues to grow.

He was showing great strength.

It has a sense of class that will make you look good wherever you go, and the equipment is full of Toyota's hospitality. Armed with this feeling of ``I can feel safe with this,'' the Mark II is my father's favorite. It received a lot of support not only from users of different generations, but also from young male users who wanted to be popular with girls. No. 2 Nissan was the one most anxious about the Mark II's dominance. The R31, which debuted in 1985, shifted the Skyline, which had gained a fixed fan base due to its sports orientation, to a luxury route. We carried out major reforms.

However, this makeover ended up being a failure.

Waru. Therefore, Nissan came up with the next step, which was to create a clear model compared to the Mark II/Chaser/Cresta, which differed only in design taste.

The method was to pit three cars with different personalities against each other. The first stage of this was its debut in September 1988.

This is the first generation Cefiro that was visible. Incidentally, Nissan would later launch the Laurel in December and the R32 Skyline in May of the following year, completing the upper middle three-car alliance.

What is difficult here is the character of each car.

That's it. As for the existing models Skyline and Laurel, the former is a return to and evolution of a sports saloon, while the latter is a re-proposal of the luxury sedan model with a slightly defective essence sprinkled on it. The problem is the new model Cefiro, which is a new model whose core users are relatively young people in their early 30s.

It was positioned as a sensational sedan.

The focus is on style and packaging.

What's new about Cefiro?

Multi-link suspension adopted at the rear,

DUETIS S with integrated control of supersonic suspension and electronically controlled power steering, HICAS-II 4WS with maximum turning angle of 1 degree.

The focus is on style and packaging.

What's new about Cefiro?

Multi-link suspension adopted at the rear,

DUET-S S with integrated control of supersonic suspension and electronically controlled power steering, refinement of HICAS-II 4WS mechanism with maximum turning angle of 1 degree. There were many points of interest in terms of mechanics, such as the straight-six RB engine that achieved sharp response due to its improved performance but what stood out most of all were the styling and packaging. Although it was a sedan, its rounded design, which resembled a monoform rather than a three-box design, was innovative and seemed to be a direct commercialization of the direction Nissan had proposed at the motor show with its concept cars CUE-X and ARC-X. The basic packaging is long and low nose/short and high deck, which is typical of European cars, but what was new about Cefiro was that it didn't emphasize this too much and unified the whole car with a softer image.

Details such as projector headlamps being adopted as standard for the first time, this collection of lights, and rear combination lamps placed in continuous black garnishes on the left and right sides emphasize a new sense of style. In any case, the Cefiro had an exterior that made you think, ``Wow, this is a sedan with a shape that has never been seen before.''

Also, the grade is “Cefiro Coordination "

He developed a unique method called "coordination." All engines are 2-liter inline 6-cylinder, but cars equipped with SOHC RB20E are used for town riding, cars equipped with DOHC RB20DE are used for touring, and DOHC+ turbo RB20DET specifications are used for sports driving.

Three types are available under the name Lusing. There are two types of suspension: DUET-S S is comfort and HICAS-II is sports. Additionally, three interior styles are available: dandy, elegant, and modern, and you can choose any combination of these.

It had become a system.

9 body colors and 2 types interior

If you include the interior base colors that have been set, there are over 900 combinations, which is amazing. The Cefiro Coordination, a ready-made choice system, is said to be a great weapon for people in their 30s who are particular about comfort in their lives and are particular about food, clothing, and housing.

The production team must have calculated this.

Yosui Inoue's TV commercial ``How are you all?'' and the catchphrase ``Kuneru Asobu,'' which seems obvious but is not very clear, also helped to attract attention, and Cefiro quickly became a popular model immediately after it's appearance. The Cefiro was certainly groundbreaking at the time, offering a new design and the natural beauty of its styling as the antithesis of the upwardly mobile, high-speed car line . However, because its freshness was its selling point, there was a strong tendency for it to become a trendy product, and although at one point the three-car alliance was steadily increasing the number of units sold, it gradually became less popular.

Cefiro slows down. In 1992 in addition to widening the body with moldings and installing a 2.5L engine, minor changes were made to the the design in the direction of diluting its characteristics, and although it ended up being a car with a long lifespan of 6 years, it fell into a rather obscure state in its final years.

The second generation, which appeared in 1994, was integrated with the Maxima and transformed into a full-fledged three-number FF saloon.

Although it lacks the strong individuality and new proposals of the first generation, it continues to exist today as a popular model that maintains the basics.

However, the interesting thing about the first-generation Cefiro is that in recent years it has suddenly come into the spotlight as a handling machine for the mountain passers. Touring manual transmissions, which were an overwhelming minority at the time, fetched unusually high prices, and people finally replaced ATs with manual transmissions.

It even created a movement to convert. The most important factor behind its popularity is the affordable price of a used car, but I think that behind its popularity is the freshness and youthfulness that the original Cefiro still has.

It is analyzed that the effect is small.

A sporty saloon where you can seriously enjoy FR

Now, it's been a long time since I've faced Cefiro.

faced. Secretly “oni campaign”

I was scared that someone would come.

However, the test car was the Autech version that was released in January 1990. This is a special Cefiro based on the sports cruising model of RB20DET+HICAS-II, which has a +20PS power increase using a ball bearing turbo, harder suspension, full aero parts, and a Connolly leather seat.

The price is nearly 800,000 yen higher than the normal model, which is why the initial monthly sales target was 30 of them, so how rare is this model?

I know it's Del.

I have no recollection of test driving this Autech version when it was new, so this will be my first experience. Compared to normal sports cruising, the engine power is clearly superior, and although it seems that the effective boost rises at a slightly higher rpm, it is truly powerful from around 350O rpm to the rev limit of 7500 rpm. This time it was an AT specification, and this one is also set to take advantage of the engine's characteristics to pull the car to its limit. As you might expect, the shift shock is quite large, and if you drive like this all the time, the load on the AT will be considerable.

I'm worried that this will happen, but anyway...

The speed of a modern 2-liter sports sedan

There is no big difference when compared to.

As a high power FR with great driving abilityit is quite stable. So that's why you can attack to the fullest.

Drift machine with demon camp specifications

This image may make the Cefiro seem frivolous, but the true nature of this car is that it is a sporty FR saloon that was built with great seriousness. Therefore, I seriously want to master the movement of FR without making any strange modifications.

This is the perfect machine for those who

want do this.

Tester Yoshio Ishikawa

When the era name changed from the Showa era to the Heisei era, a boom in self-restraint began, led by the line "How are you?" in a Cefiro commercial. The role of Yosui is played by Yoshio, who looks good in sunglasses. the female driver next door

Ichi is a rock-paper-scissors girl who is rumored on the street.

#A31 Cefiro #Autech A31 Cefiro #A31 Ceffy #Cefiro #Ceffy #Nissan Cefiro

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