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vettelsvee · 2 days ago

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YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

2010 Hockenheim German Grand Prix

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen.

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment.

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change

If perfect's what you're searching for

Then just stay the same

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face

There is not a thing that I would change

'Cause you're amazing

Just the way you are

And when you smile

The whole world stops and stares for a while

'Cause, girl, you're amazing

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss.

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive.

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms.

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

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passengerprincessblog · 1 day ago

Text

“Lewis, Next Door” ~ pt 2 Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warning: age gap (lowkey?), alcohol.

Summary: Y/N’s night out spirals into chaos, leading to a desperate late-night call to Lewis that she barely remembers making. But when he shows up to help-, slightly annoyed, and undeniably magnetic—she finds herself teetering between embarrassment and intrigue.

The bass thumps in my chest, so loud I feel it in my bones as we sway and stumble together under the neon lights. MK Club in Monaco is packed, bodies pressed together in a wave of glitter, laughter, and the haze of way too many drinks. Winter break has finally started, and my friends—Janelle, Isabella, and Séraphine—and I have decided that tonight is all about celebrating our freedom. Maybe we’re overdoing it, but who cares? We’re young, we’re back from school, and we deserve this.

I lean into the music, my head spinning in the best way. “We’re out of money,” I realize, looking down at my half-empty drink, frowning. Not a cent of parental allowance had dropped in any of our accounts yet. My own savings were being bled dry by all this fun, and, seriously, what’s the point of being a rich kid in Monaco if I can’t order bottles of Ace of Spades?

Séraphine slings an arm around me, her face flushed and eyes glassy as she shouts, “We should just try to flirt with some guys! Get ourselves a table!”

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little worse for wear, her lids drooping as she slurs, “No… Alain will kill me if he finds out I pulled something like that again…”

As they debate, an idea pops into my head, striking like a flash of drunken genius. I grin, barely able to focus, but sure of one thing: I have Lewis’s number. Lewis, my neighbor and friend of my dad, but also ridiculously rich, famous, and possibly my ticket to a few more rounds. So what if it’s 2 a.m., right?

“I’ve got it, guys. I know someone,” I announce proudly, though the words come out like a tangled mess.

Séraphine squints at me, laughing. “You’re drunk, Y/N. You don’t know anyone.”

“Oh, yeah?” I pull out my phone, holding it up triumphantly as I squint at the screen, fingers fumbling over the contacts. “There it is.” I hit the call button, holding the phone to my ear, my friends watching me with barely-contained curiosity.

The call rings a few times, and just as I’m about to give up, a low, groggy voice answers.

“Hello?”

The confidence I had fizzles, but I swallow my nerves. “Lewis?” I slur, hearing my voice in that weirdly bold way only a couple of drinks can make possible.

There’s a pause. “Y/N?” He sounds confused, and I hear him shift like he’s sitting up.

“Yeah. Are you out?” I ask, the music blaring through the phone. I feel the eyes of my friends glued to me as they wait, wondering who I’m talking to.

“What? Where are you?” he asks, voice sharper now, more alert.

“I’m at MK,” I say loudly over the noise, feeling smug.

There’s another pause, and then he says, almost to himself, “MK? You’re not even old enough to be there… And, wait… are you drunk? It’s 2 a.m.—”

I cut him off, a playful edge to my tone. “I was just calling to see if you wanted to come and get us more drinks,” I say, though the words tumble out in a barely coherent mix of slurs and giggles.

There’s a long, exasperated silence on the other end.

“Hello?” I ask, annoyed he’s taking so long to answer.

His sigh is audible over the phone. “Do you… need me to pick you up?” he asks, his voice lined with something that sounds like he’s already resigning himself to it.

“No! I don’t,” I reply with confusion. “You’re so boring,” I add before hanging up. My friends laugh, and we go back to dancing, somehow managing to snag a few more drinks from guys around us.

It’s 3:00 a.m. by the time I manage to stumble my way back to my parents’ penthouse, swaying down the hallway in my heels. My purse feels like a black hole as I dig through it, searching for my keys. They have to be in here somewhere, right?

But after minutes of searching, I realize they’re not. “Shit,” I mutter, slumping against the wall, the reality sinking in. I don’t want to wake up my parents like this—tipsy, disheveled, and very obviously not sober.

I slide down to the floor, feeling my frustration tip dangerously toward tears. I’m too drunk for this. I stare at my phone, desperate for some kind of solution, and in my daze, I remember… Lewis. Again, I don’t recall that I just called him an hour ago, and with no other option, I hit his number.

After a few rings, his tired voice picks up. “Yes?” he says, clearly woken up again.

“Lewis?” My voice breaks a little, the earlier playfulness gone.

He sounds a little more awake, sensing something’s off. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t get into my house.” My voice trembles with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Wait… are you outside right now?” he asks, the tone of his voice shifting instantly, more alert.

“Yeah… I don’t have a key,” I mumble.

He sighs deeply, and I hear him rustling, like he’s getting up. “Okay… give me a minute.” He hangs up, and I wait in the dimly lit hallway, feeling stupid but relieved.

A few minutes later, the door down the hall opens, and there he is, looking tired, standing there in nothing but sweatpants. Even through my drunken haze, I can’t help but notice how he looks, the way his gaze meets mine across the hall, his face softening when he sees me.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low, quiet command. The authority in his voice stirs something in me as I pull myself up, stumbling toward him, heels clicking with each unsteady step. His eyes drop to what I’m wearing—a short dress, tight enough to get the attention of every guy at MK tonight—and he looks away, maybe to save me from feeling self-conscious. Or maybe to save himself.

“Come in,” he murmurs, stepping back and letting me walk inside. His place feels dim, warm, quiet—a stark contrast to the loud, chaotic energy I’d just left. The moment I step in, I sway, and his hand catches my arm, steadying me.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, his voice edged with concern as he leads me toward the living room. “Why did you drink so much?”

I flop onto his couch, letting out a lazy laugh as I lean back. “I don’t know,” I reply, slurring, barely caring how much of a mess I must look to him right now.

He disappears for a second, returning with a glass of water, holding it out to me. “Drink that. You need it.”

I take a sip, and he watches, standing over me, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “Look… I don’t have a key to your parents’ place, so you’re kind of stuck for now. Do you have a friend nearby?”

I shake my head, setting the glass aside and sinking further back into the couch. “No… I don’t know.” My voice is soft, almost defeated.

He sighs, glancing at the clock. “It’s 3:17 in the morning…” he mutters, and I let out a giggle, finding it all absurdly funny.

He shakes his head, but there’s a small, reluctant smile on his face. “You’re a mess,” he says, voice teasing.

I sit up, pouting. “No…” I argue, slurring as I try to mimic his mock-scolding tone.

“Yes…” he says, meeting my gaze, and for a moment, his eyes linger on me, trailing down to my dress. His hand reaches up, almost instinctively, to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. I look at him, something bubbling up in me—a boldness from the alcohol, or maybe just the thrill of being near him like this. I reach out, letting my hand rest on his thigh, feeling the solid warmth of him.

He looks at my hand, then at me, his gaze suddenly intense. He reaches down, covering my hand with his, his grip firm as he lifts it off his leg. “No… no, Y/N. You need to sleep this off,” he murmurs, voice low but soft.

“Hm? No… I’m fine,” I insist, leaning closer, letting my eyes half-close as I give him what I hope is a sultry look.

He lets out a breath, amused but resolute. “Yeah… that’s definitely the alcohol talking.” He stands up, guiding me gently to follow him. “Come on. I’ve got a spare bedroom. You can sleep there, okay?”

I frown, feeling my hazy hopes sink, but I’m too tired and too out of it to argue. I stumble along behind him, my heels clicking down the hallway as he opens the door to a guest room. I step inside, feeling the plush carpet beneath my feet, a cozy contrast to the cold, hard floors of MK.

“Just get some sleep, alright?” he says, rubbing his eyes, clearly exhausted.

“Wait,” I call, almost whining, as he turns to leave. “Can you…” I pause, heart pounding, barely believing my own boldness as I turn around, showing him the back of my dress. “I can’t sleep in this…”

He sighs, and I can tell he’s fighting an internal battle. “Y/N…” he starts, his tone edged with caution, like he’s about to refuse. But then he relents, stepping forward. His hands come to rest on my hips, strong and steady, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric. I feel my breath catch as he pulls me closer, his fingers brushing against the small of my back.

For a moment, his hands linger, almost as if he’s hesitating, feeling the weight of the moment as much as I am. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raises one hand to the top of my zipper. His fingertips graze the bare skin at the base of my neck, and I can’t suppress the shiver that runs down my spine.

He inches the zipper down slowly, each pull of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, his touch leaving a tingling trail down my back. I can feel the soft brush of his knuckles against my skin as the dress loosens, exposing more of my back, inch by inch. His breathing is steady, but there’s a tension there—a restraint that feels almost tangible.

The zipper finally reaches the base of my spine, and his fingers linger there, as if reluctant to break the contact. My skin feels electric, every nerve heightened, and for a moment, he doesn’t move, his breath warm against the back of my neck. It’s like he wants to say something, to break the charged silence between us, but he holds back.

He clears his throat softly, his voice a quiet murmur in my ear, almost a command. “There. Now… get some sleep.” His words are gentle but firm, like he’s trying to steady both himself and me. And then, just as slowly as he approached, he pulls away, letting his hands fall from my back, the absence of his touch leaving my skin cool and craving the warmth of his hands.

As he steps back, he meets my eyes briefly, a flicker of something unreadable passing between us. For a second, I think he might close the space between us again, say something, or do something that will change everything. But he only gives me a small, careful nod, a final reminder of his restraint, and turns toward the door.

“Now… sleep,” he says once more, his voice soft but unwavering. With one last look, he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

———————————————-

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works.

I hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

Please like and follow for more!

Хохо

Princess

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton fluff

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boundbyeclipse · 3 days ago

Note

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

#metallica smut #metallica fic #metallica fics #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fic #james hetfield fics

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vigilskeep · 5 hours ago

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does sol have options on spite? does spite on sol? endlessly fascinated with them, it’s so sweet how you went from puzzling over the possibility of a crow warrior to having dreams about sol 😭

sol has a mild case of sympathy for spite’s side of the story from the start; “yeah, trapped in there with some uppity master crow going on and on about contracts who never lets you get a word in edgewise no matter how often you’ve backed him up, i know that experience”. but that would never prevent them from staying alert, registering spite as an ever-present threat against lucanis, which rises in importance against spite’s usefulness as lucanis starts to matter more to them. they always had calculating how to get rid of it in the back of their mind, for sure. this state of affairs goes on until the bit where spite drags you into the fade to take lucanis to therapy. and it’s like, OH, okay, you have completely reasonable goals aligned with mine and for a demon you’re kind of adorable. that’s when sol starts actually getting fond. they love when spite makes Interesting and Creative fade bridges (they have artistic merit, lucanis), they always get a laugh out of it talking to the others, and it’s never let them down in a fight. as long as it’s good to lucanis and lucanis is okay with it, it’s part of what they love and they’re here for it all the way

spite likes sol. which makes sense, because it is a mostly straightforward, uncomplicated creature that lives in lucanis’ brain, where sol is the number one source of light and freedom and all good things. but sol also meets spite’s own standards, i think? sol is vicious and sharp, bringer of fire! clever and fun, trusted and safe! breaker of chains, opener of doors! ours! these are all very good things! spite is well pleased by their proximity. which is precisely what lucanis finds most unsettling, because he automatically doesn’t trust anything his demon wants, so overall this unfortunately does not quickly help spite’s case for More Sol and I Get To Talk To Them

in summary

spite: if we run and leap at sol they will most certainly catch us in their arms

lucanis: NO! THEY’RE HOLDING COFFEE!

[sol drops the coffee to catch them, Lucanis Disapproves]

i don’t know how... involved spite is in lucanis and sol’s relationship? (DISCLAIMER: the rest of this post ventures into my general headcanons about what spite is and how it works, and is not intended to discount anyone else’s interpretations of spite or the romance.) spite does not strike me as a spirit that had previously had very much contact with people. if any. it’s incredibly single-minded, with broken, childish speech patterns and a very poor understanding of how the material world works. which is to say that i think before we ask ourselves if spite is truly part of this romantic relationship, we should set our sights lower. like maybe, “does spite know what a romantic relationship is?” i’m still cracking up at that one shot where you’re on the late game coffee date and lucanis comes over to stand next to you, and the camera zooms out to show spite just... still there. sitting there watching. it’s learning, okay. it’s very curious and mildly confused but not displeased by this turn of events. more sol is good! there seem to be a lot of strange mortal customs involved with this direction, though

to me, spite encircling them with the wings in the final romance scene seemed like it is definitely present and made a choice to do that—lucanis says in other dialogue that the wings are spite and he doesn’t control them—but i don’t necessarily read that spite is taking part, so to speak. spite is still working on What Are Physical Bodies And How Do They Work And Why Do They Look Like That, and i just fail to believe that it has sex figured out or even sexual attraction online. (right now, at least! never say never?) my honest interpretation of spite’s choice to pop out the wings is threefold:

a) taash said it would be good and that sol would like it. taash is, in spite’s opinion, usually very sensible, so their advice is worth trying

b) spite apparently can make an attempt to go elsewhere when lucanis is having sex, because i’ve heard about dialogue from a neve/lucanis setup where spite says that when the hat comes off it’s been told to leave and go “play with wisps”, which is, btw, so fucking funny. however, spite in this scene has spent weeks in the Very Wrong Bad Not Right absence of rook, and now rook is Here! the wings are spite just present enough to still soak that in. that’s all it needs from this moment, which shows in how contented it is in this scene to be, as far as i can tell, otherwise really remarkably quiet and non-intrusive and let lucanis and rook have the moment they need

c) lucanis was very clear that this is Private, and spite is attempting to ensure that they have privacy by covering them safely with the wings, because it is Suspicious About The Fish

#veilguard spoilers #sol de riva #spite #let it speak btw. abt the fish. who knows what agenda fade fish have

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i-may-be-an-emu · 17 hours ago

Text

SFTH FAQ and Info Masterpost

This is kinda long so

sfth info:

General info

Sam and Tom’s last names being different sometimes

Shark Friend, Mr Wompa and Squidboi terms origins

the boys degrees

information about what you get with patreon

Just a note that many sfth videos are subtitled (a decent amount in other languages too!!!) and the subtitlers are amazing!!!! They are credited in the video descriptions.

If you see any fake sfth accounts on any platforms try to report them!!! Unfortunately there’s a multitude of them on tiktok >:( and tiktok doesn’t let people report them (there’s an issue for some when you try to) Try to not suppourt or watch these stolen videos! Sfth are verified now!!! (If that’s easier for people to tell which is the real them :))

Obviously there’s no rules on tumblr but as a general courtesy to the guys, consider keeping in mind:

Not sharing links to patreon content if you’re a patreon (which is probably actually a patreon rule but I’m just assuming that) and keeping clips of patreon things under 2 minutes. Screenshots and discussions are fine!! (As some people have been wondering) though maybe consider tagging the original post with a patreon tag (like #sfthpatreon) so people who aren’t patreons and don’t want to see patreon stuff can filter it out.

Not sharing screenshots/links/clips/ect of the guys when they were younger unless it’s still on their actual sfth account or their own personal accounts. They’ve stated before that they don’t really want these shared and have taken some older videos down.

[I’m only saying this so that people are aware and keep it in mind and be informed!!! Not telling people what they can and can’t do!]

links to stuff:

Fanfiction masterlist (list is mine, fics are of many different authors all credited through the ao3 links)

ao3 guide a relationships ao3 tagging guide and a revised ao3 tagging guide (specific for the sfth fandom) (all by the incredible @youling-the-ghost)

List of games that sfth have posted (by @letsbesharkfriends)

sfth fan wiki (by @youling-the-ghost, I have also contributed a little but it’s mostly him :))

tv tropes sfth page (by @friendofthesharks)

sfth map (by @goingroundincircles-ontrack)

kiss count, not up to date (mine, diagram by @leftenmost-window)

“who said it” and “which member are you” really fun sfth quizzes! (by @toddandersonwithtrustissues)

You can find amazing sfth gifs by @hellsquills (to find these search “shoot from the gif” within her blog)

search “#sfth asks” on my blog to find any asks about or relating to sfth- it’s not just questions, but there is a great deal of questions that you might find yours answered by :) I’m always happy to get asks and to help out with any questions!!! I’ve also started tagging “#sfth faq’s” recently

You should check out all the amazing fanart too under #sfth fanart!!! (also sneaky self promotion that I make fanart sometimes lol #emu draws is my art tag :))

feel free to @, dm me or send asks anytime if you have any sfth related questions or wanna obsess over it with me :)

Fandom tags:

(from memory and just the common ones I see)

(there’s no rules of course, just a little list so that people can search for and filter things easily :))

main tags:

#shoot from the hip #sfth #shootimpro #sfthposting #sfth screenshots

#sam russell #sfth sam #alexander jeremy #sfth aj #luke manning #sfth luke #tom mayo #sfth tom #sfth sam

fanwork tags:

#sfth fanart #sfth fanfic #sfth fanfiction #sfth edits #sfth headcanons

patreon tags:

#sfthpatreon #sfth patreon things #sfth patreon #the bitter sweethearts #sfth dnd #sfth livestreams #sfth livestreams #escape from the vault

if you want to join the sfth fan discord dm me and I can send you the link! (Just a note that it is a 14+ server.) Everyone is lovely and there’s no pressure to interact- but if you do the community is so welcoming!!!

sfth linktree (stuff about their upcoming shows and links to their things. you can also sign up for patreon here)

sfth website

sfth ko-fi

AJ ko-fi (for his film making)

Tom’s graphic novel @futurethecomic (insta)

Sam wrote an audiobook “Evergreen” and you can find it on Spotify

if you think of anything that should go on this post let me know! :)

#Making this post made my tumblr crash and I thought I lost it all for a sec 😭#But I didn’t #shoot from the hip #Sfth info #fandom resources #Sfth masterpost #This took me a while to make #Not physically but like just the time since deciding to make it and posting it #Really it was just a couple hours or so of actually making it but brain wouldn’t let me do it until now so #Anyway #:)#Sfth faq’s #Shootimpro #Long ish post #Sfthposting #sfth #If I’ve forgotten any lists or anything that people think should be on here let me know!!!#Anyway :)#👍

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ashblooddragons · 2 days ago

Text

The Red Queen (Chapter 7/?)

112 ac

Alicents pov

I sit next to Myrielle in the royal box waiting for the tourney to start and for Rhaenyra to show. I have no idea how she gets away with all she does, if I did even half the things she’s done today I would be forced to be a Septa by my Father, only love and lust for the gods.

I sigh and look over at you and your friends smiling as you excitedly show them your new necklace, you had shown me it soon after so excited and only wanting to show me your new gift.

“Ali! Look! Look! Kepus gave this to me, don’t you think it’s pretty? Oh, I love it so much!” You say and I can’t help but notice you have seemingly had your hair fixed into a proper style. I’ve been needing to fix that, wonder who did. I think to myself.

“Ah, let me see.” I say kneeling down so I can face you properly as I lift the garnet pendant watching as the rich red of the stone catches the light making it even more beautiful. “Lovely, a beautiful gift for a beautiful girl.” I say smiling when you beam with joy at the compliment.

“Mam– Ali do you have any jewelry that your family gave you that was a ancestirs?” You ask curiously as you play with the sapphire necklace around my neck. Your correction isn’t lost on me but I let you think I missed you almost calling me Mama.

It is moments like this one, where I know I am not alone in the feeling that I am your Mother. I may not have birthed you, nor carried you in my womb but you are my little girl.

“Ancestors,” I correct gently before I touch the necklace on my neck. “And yes, this used to be my Mother’s before she passed. I have many other necklaces, rings, bracelets, and earrings, that used to be hers.”

I know the moment you catch that my Mother is dead, I hae never told you nor have you most likely ever heard this fact so the tears that come to your eyes are not surprising.

“Your Mama is dead? Is there any way to bring her back, so you can have her again?” You ask seemingly trying to find any way to take my pain away from her passing which seems to bring your young mind to necromancy.

I can’t help but giggle at your young and innocent idea. “No, and besides she is in a better place, she is happy with the Stranger now, walking through fields of lilies and havig the sun kiss her skin at all times of day.” I saw with a mournful smile.

“Is the Stranger kind?” You ask wiping away your tears with the back of your dress sleeve.

“Very kind.” I say before teaching you more about the seven and what each one is for and why they are important.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear the King start his speech before the tourney starts. “Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed–”

The King pauses when Rhaenyra tries to sneak in and take her seat. I suppress a scoff when she sits down smirking thinking she got away with something again, and to be fair she probably did with how the King bends to her will.

“When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share, the Queen Aemma has begun her labors!”

With that announcement the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, small folk and noble alike rejoicing at the future heir to be born. I turn to look at you and see you nervously biting ad chewing on you lower lip it is already getting bloody and chapped. I at times worry if my nervous habit with m fingers has led you to do the same only with your lips. I reach over to hold your hand comforting you the only way I can. you may not say it or show it, nor understand it, but I can tell you worry for the Queen and your future sibling.

“May the luck of the Seven shine on all combatants!” The King says finally finishing his speech witha sigh and sitting on his mock throne.

I turn to look at you after you tugged on the sleeve of my dress. “Yes, darling?”

“Where’s Kepus? He said he was going to be in the games, but I haven’t seen him yet.” You are confused as you search for your dear uncle, or should I say Kepus.

“He will be out soon, but first we have to watch Ser Cole and Ser Aldwin Sarwyck joust.” I say gently smiling when you nod, you don’t seem to like this information but you also seem to understand.

You’ve never cared much for tourneys, finding them too long and too boring. And I can’t blame you, as soon as it gets entertaining it is determined you must not see such violence at your young age. So when Ser Cole unmounts Ser Aldwin you don't clap nor cheer as loud as the rest, only clapping as you know you must.

“Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of ‘The Queen Who Never Was’.” Lord Boremund Baratheon declares holding his jousting stick up to the balcony.

You can hear the chatter of the courtiers gossiping. Do they ever stop? Probably not. I think to myself scowling when I see one of them point to you and your friends giggling over lemon cakes and tea.

“Good fortune to you, cousin.” Princess Rhaenys says obviously not happy with he cousins behavior but putting on a good face.

The less things for this court of vipers to gossip about you, the better. Or that is at least what my father loves to tell me when I even think of running through teh halls.

“I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it.” He says pompously like any true Baratheon would.

I hear a pained gasp beside me and turn to see Myrielle looking up at her brother and the lady Cerelle Celtigar seeming to be holding hands and talking. I had heard they are now bethrothed and getting ready to marry in three moons. Such a quick wedding has raised eyebrows as to why they are wedding so quickly, I have yet to hear one that makes sense.

“Are you alright, Myrielle?” I ask worried as to what has he nearly in tears.

“Yes, yes, sorry I must have gotten something in my eyes.” She says clearly lying but I pretend to believe her for her sake. That is until I hear Rhaenyra scoff.

“Is that what is’s called when you almost lay with your brother? You know it’s wrong right, to want to fuck your brother or family? That is at least what the rumors say.” She says crudely.

I turn back and see tears rolling down Myrielles cheeks, whether that be because of shame or rage I can not tell. I can’t believe Rhaenyra’s hypocrisy, she has always found the conquers marriage as beautiful, and yet she sits there berating a girl over a rumor? It must be this that pushes me to speak up, to try and take Rhaenyra down a peg.

“As if you Targaryens have any room to talk. Were the conquers not brother and sisters, or had I read the history books wrong?” I ask with a smirk knowing I’ve backed her into a corner.

I can see Rhaenyra is ready to lash back when the King clears his throat and when we turn to look at him, he’s glaring at Rhaneyra making her slump back into her chair with a scowl upon her face.

I turn back to Myrielle who is smiling thankfully. “I do not know if this is true, but as far as I’m concerned it is only a rumor about the new lady of court.” I say squeezing her hand reasuringly, before turning back to watch as the Rouge Prince comes riding into the jousting ring.

I can’t help but smile when you perk up at the sight of him, for if he can bring that smile of pure joy to your little face can he truly be that bad?

I was so distracted by your excited chatter that you had finally been allowed to make a favor for a knight that I missed the way Myrielle and my eldest brother, Lorent, were staring at each other. If I had I would have noticed the blush on Myrielles face and the look of lust in my brother’s eyes.

“Who do you think he’ll pick?” You ask as you watch Prince Daemon moving his horse up and down the line of knights to choose from. When I see my brother Gwayne I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach put push it down and smile down at you,

“I have no idea, though they musat be a extraordinary knight to be choices for the Prin–.” I say only to stop when I see he picked the one person I hoped and silently prayed he wouldn’t, Gwyane.

“Who’s the one with the tower helmet?” You ask curiously as you lean into me on the seate we are sitting on.

You do this often, looking for my touch and comfort, besides the Prince I am the person you seek out the most.

“My brother.” I say fighting the urge to bite and pick at my cuticles. It is not for my sake but for yours for I will not let you gain such a harming habit because of me, because of my anixites. So I will push them down for your sake.

“He must be a very good knight for Kepus to pick him.” You say in wonder.

Or the son of the Prince’s greatest enemy. I think coldly.

I hold my breath as I watch the joust, my brother seems to have almost knocked the Prince off his horse. But on the next joust, the Prince leans his jousting stick downward so it trips the horse making the horse and my brother flip through the air landing with a resounding crash that makes everyone gasp. But I do not get much time to recoup until the Prince is in front of the balcony smirking up at us, or should I say, my father.

“Nicely done uncle.” Rhaenyra says with a smirk batting her eyes ar him. I have to fight the urge to slap her as she seems to forger my brother was just carried out of the tourney ring.

“Thank you, Rhaenyra, now I am fairly certain I can win these games but what isn’t a little extra luck from the most beautiful maiden here?” He says smiling when you walk up with your friends smiling and waving at him.

“It would be my honor Uncle.” Rhaenyra says breathlessly getting ready to grab her favor when the Prince stops her.

“Not you, I meant the Realms Darling over here.” He says pointing his jousting stick towards you.

The look of pure joy crossing your face mixed with Rhaenyra’s look of betrayal and embarrassment almost made my brothers injury worth it, almost.

You run over to grab your favor only to run back and almost tripping and falling from your excitement, it’s a good thing I caught you or else you may have fallen off the balcony.

“I made it myself!” You say excitedly as you reach over just barely able to reach before letting your wreath slide down.

“It is a lovely favor, it is sure to make me win.” He says making you giggle as he rides off.

“He’ll win with my favor right?” You ask as you hold my hand as we walk back to our seat.

“If he does not then he must have terrible luck because you are the luckiest girl in the world.” I say tickling your sides making you giggle uncontrollably.

As the match goes on we don’t notice how slowly but surely the crowd seems to becomes mournful. It is only after your uncle lost his bout and whispered something to Ser Cole that we finally hear the news.

“Ali, please say it’s not true.” You plead tears rolling down your little face.

When I can’t find a response you burst into tears and sob into my chest as I hold you close praying I could take all your pain and put it onto myself. But there is no gods, or magic that would let me so I sit there holding you and carrying you to your chambers as you cry your little heart out as any little girl should after losing their mother.

This is the necklace I see that Alicent was wearing, the one made of Sapphires from her mom.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I be lost without you Girly!

Also Nymeria and Myrielle are my besties @sugutoad ocs so give her the love for these magical and beautiful characters!!

Taglist: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff

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nariyahcore · 23 hours ago

Text

Sonic and Nine make a toxic duo/“sibling” relationship

And why Silver could easily fit into that dynamic instead

I have mentioned this before not too long ago, but never got the chance to elaborate on why I personally do not like Sonic and Nine as “brothers”. So!!! I’ll take advantage and explain why Silver and Nine are a much better duo :]]

BUT FIRST!!! I want to credit my pookie @abs9lution who came up with this duo in the first place! i have their thread that elaborates further on silver and nine’s dynamic at the end of this post if you’d like to check it out! it also includes a thread on what’ll happen to silver and blaze’s dynamic, and why Blaze’s character was downgraded throughout the years

the end of this post also includes a tldr for those who don’t have the patience to read all this yapping (it’s okay me too 😭)

Table of Contents:

i. sonic and nine’s toxic relationship

ii. explaining how silver’s addition would’ve mattered in sonic prime

iii. why silver and nine would make a better duo as brothers

I. Sonic and Nine, and why their dynamic does not work out.

I feel like I could go on for AGES as to why i genuinely dislike Sonic and Nine as a duo, because there’s just so many things wrong with these two 😭

If you’ve watched Sonic Prime then you’d know Sonic’s goal was to simply bring back Green Hills, with the help of the friends he made along the way.

This also includes Nine (momentarily) before his (EXTREMELY VALID AND JUSTIFIED) villain arc.

Throughout the show it is extremely obvious Sonic only saw Nine as Tails “but angsty”. He didn’t take time to realize that Nine was NOT Tails and never will be. Whilst his main concern was to bring back his friends, I feel like no one talks about how demeaning this was 😭

The poor kid has absolutely no idea what a friendship is like, so having Sonic rely on him for even a little bit was bound to become a heavily over attached and almost obsessive-one sided dynamic.

So no, it’s not meant to be “toxic brothers!!!” core, it is sooo downgrading to not only Nine’s trauma imho, but also the whole plot of S3 in Sonic Prime. They CANNOT be brothers 😭

This is often dismissed just for the fact of “lol sonic and tails brother ship in all universes”

Do not get my wrong, I adore the Unbreakable Bond stuff, I think they’re the brothers ever!! HOWEVER, this should not apply with Sonic and Nine for obvious reasons.

I can yap more about this but the main purpose of this post is about Silver and Nine, so I’ll keep this section short!!

II. Silver should’ve been in Sonic Prime and I will die on this hill

LIKE??? ITS LITERALLY ABOUT THE MULTIVERSE WHY WOULDN’T HE (and Blaze) BE IN THIS SHOW???

Silver in general needs to be in more official media but that’s a rant for another post 😭

His addition to this show would’ve been sooo important, it actually would’ve changed a lot of the plot and even the ending of S3 (which was absolute shit imo 😭)

I don’t have a lot to say about this part of the post, apart from the fact his inclusion would have made the show more interesting, and his background is very similar to Nine!! (Which I’ll explain in the next section)

III. Why Silver and Nine would make a better bond than with Sonic.

they have similar backgrounds and interests! both come from a dystopian city with the want for change; one wants to leave and make a new world, while the other wants to help fix his.

They both balance each other nicely! And YES I KNOW THE SAME IS FOR SONIC. THE DIFFERENCE IS THAT THERES NO TRAUMA INVOLVED BETWEEN THE TWO 😭 and it’s not a complete copy of sonic and tails but with an angsty version of the fox

silver wouldn’t see nine as “tails but angsty” or just another version of tails, I think he’d see nine as his own person!! they could keep each other company and be the sillies ever

Something I like about this is the fact it’s not EXACTLY like sonic and tails, and they can still have that brother bond!! They have tons of potential, which is why I ignore canon and follow my delusions in fanon 😁

TLDR: sonic and nine booooo silver and nine yippee!!! /hj

okay in a serious note, sonic and nine just wouldn’t have a healthy friendship that wouldn’t have one-sided obsession and lots of toxicity, while silver, a character that albeit random, still has enough similarities to fit into that role!!

Please read the thread behind the mastermind of this headcanon!! They explain the details I’ve put in this post, but I’d like for you guys to read it too. It includes a separate thread by another person based on Blaze and Silver’s odd dynamic and why it’s often brushed off!!

sorry for any spelling errors I did NOT proofread this

art by BREADBURNE86414 on twt!!

#nari’s rants #miles nine prower #nine the fox #silver the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog

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hunter470 · 9 hours ago

Text

Here’s my imagination having fun.

TM: Let’s break up Buck and Tommy and make it really hurt. It’s gonna be great.

Writers: But, Tim, this doesn’t make sense. We’ve been laying the foundation for a long-term healthy relationship for Buck. You even brought Tommy back because of all the connections he had with the 118. You wanted Buck’s love interest to be connected so they wouldn’t be off on an island. This just feels like it’s coming out of left field.

TM: True, but I keep getting texts from Oliver and he wants “Buck to f**k” and I think that would be fun. I mean, he’s newly bi so he should sleep around with a bunch of people before finding the one. We can have a lot of fun with that. Just think of the possibilities.

Writers: But that goes against all the character development we’ve done for Buck over the last seven seasons. We wanted him off the hamster wheel and to get into a long term relationship. Plus, aren’t you being a bit biphobic with your statement?

TM: Nope, I like Oliver’s idea so let’s do that. Oh, and make Tommy the bad guy and don’t let any of the other characters encourage him to talk to Tommy. We can have fun with that…maybe have Buck baking to get over him or he wants to call Tommy and Eddie steals his phone. Yeah, I like that. Use it.

Writers: Are you sure? We’re gonna get a lot of pushback from the audience. We’ve all seen the overwhelmingly positive response the Buck and Tommy relationship has gotten online.

TM: That may be true, but because the audience is so invested in the relationship, it just makes it more fun when we break them up. Remember, based on our ratings, the audience will watch whatever we put out there. Besides, Tommy’s just a side character so they won’t care. They only care about Buck. Oh, and I wrote a whole scene about Tommy being engaged to Abby. Make sure to work it in. It’s genius.

Writers: Abby? As in the Abby Buck dated? That doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit the timeline or the previous episodes’ narrative. So, Abby was engaged to a firefighter from the 118 and then dates another firefighter from the 118 and what, it just slipped her mind? Seems like a bit of a stretch. Also, why didn’t Tommy tell anyone he worked with at the 118 that he was engaged? Wouldn’t that have helped him stay hidden from his team? Kept his secret safe?

TM: It doesn’t matter. Just retcon the timeline or ignore the timeline altogether. It’s not like anyone will notice. The audience doesn’t pay that close attention. Plus, they’ll be too upset over the breakup to care. It’s just such a great idea that I got from the fans who sent me that red string theory video. They’ll love the fact that I used it.

Writers: We’ve seen the video but that was to show how Buck and Tommy are meant to be together and not to cause problems. Won’t that upset people?

TM: I doubt it. They’ll just feel acknowledged that I used it and be grateful. The audience loves everything I do. Remember, these are the viewers who loved a bee-nado and my obvious ripoff on a 1975 airplane disaster movie. They even bought a 66 year old police sergeant and a 10 year old boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA. So, it’s not like they expect reality in our stories.

One day after episode 6 airs…

ABC Executive: Tim, have you seen the number of saddened and upset viewers commenting on social media about last night’s episode?

TM: It’s amazing, right? I knew people would love it! We’re doing great things over there. You can expect this level of storytelling for the spinoff. You’re gonna love it!

Executive: I’m afraid you didn’t hear me. People are upset and saying they’ll stop watching the show. We’re even getting hundreds of feedback messages on the ABC site. People are not happy. How are you going to fix this?

TM: Don’t worry. People won’t stop watching. They’re all lemmings and love everything I write. Anyway, it will all blow over after the next episode. I threw in some Tommy crumbs that will make viewers think he’s coming back, which they’ll live off of and keep watching. Oh, and if that’s not enough, we have a scene with Buck and Jee baking that is so cute they’ll forget all about being upset over the breakup. Cute kids are the answer to everything.

Executive: 🤦🏻‍♂️

#911 discourse #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 show

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gotskamstuff · 2 days ago

Note

Do you think Rudy will come back after all this stuff coming out

Do I hope it until the very end? Yes, but it’s probably part of my coping mechanism and still being in denial.

Realistically? Sadly, I highly doubt it.

I think that even before the release of the finale he wanted to put a definite end to this experience…and honestly I think that all the shit online towards his girlfriend and the articles about the “feud” only made the situation worse. To me this collective behavior is only contributing to confirm his decision (and I’m not talking about expressing the disappointed towards the season and the writing, I’d be an hypocrite ‘cause I’m the n.1 doing it as you can see, I mean the insults and gossip and hate)

The only thing I could possibly maybe see for it to work out is if the producers get to a point of actually fearing for the show and result to close to begging him, offering more money or coming to an agreement for the shortest amount of episodes as possible.

But to be fair, we’re all focusing on Rudy but even the writers we don’t know if they want to or have the intention to do something about it, yes the backlash is massive and I’m the first one advocating under their social media (THE SHOW’S ONE, let’s leave the cast alone pls)…but it’s a big plot to turn around and we don’t know if they’re willing to, also ‘cause we don’t know how far S5 is already into writing, depends on how much there would be to scrap up and start again as well, delaying means more money and I don’t think at the moment Netflix is well intentioned for accommodating OBX and it’s madness. (Obx makes TONS of money for Netflix and they even invest so much into it with production budget, events, merch etc. so no one can convince me that THIS is the reason why they cut it short to one more season and that’s it…they renewed that shitshow that’s Elite since forever just for money)

I think it’s a hope that I don’t want to let go and I won’t give up advocating for it until I see them on that set until the very last day of shooting, but realistically I find it really really hard. To come to this it means that Rudy was probably well damn set on his decision.

Once again I believe that the truth stands in the middle, some of the speculations (even regarding the writers) are true and others very much blown up by fans and media…we don’t even know for certain if the writers want that, we need to take everything we read with a pinch of salt.

So long story short: I hope so and I’ll keep advocating for it (even for my own sanity) but I think it’s really really difficult.

One thing’s for sure…without JJ I’m not watching S5 and I mean it. I physically can’t.

#once again I was not able to give a short answer sorry #I GET TALKATIVE ABOUT THINGS I CARE ABOUT #MY BAD LOL #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #obx netflix #obx4 #jiara #obx s4 #outer banks netflix #rudy pankow #obx cast #anon ask

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blushingteddy · 2 days ago

Text

Precious Things: Chapter 1

Plot: Rio visits Westview after The Hex comes down and finds Agnes O'Conner in Agatha's stead. She must team up with an unlikely ally to help get her wife back and confront the past to make sense of the future ahead. (Agathario x Rio/Mrs Hart unlikely friendship)

---

The beep of machines is a reliable monotone to measure the accrual of time to it’s exact and precise end. There was a knack, in her experience. A correct moment that was neither a heartbeat early nor a single beat overdue. The strangely comforting taste of artificial banana pudding felt as good a place as any to ground her overworked thought processes. Rio blew out her cheeks and straightened her criss-crossed ankles, elbows dug into the arm rests, prodding the plastic spoon around with marked disinterest.

She was putting off the inevitable.

Largely, because Agatha had been putting off the inevitable - for such a long, long time. The Scarlet Witch had taken the Darkhold. Agatha finally vulnerable. The dark magic that had shrouded her all of these centuries had lifted like a veil. Rio could feel that Agatha hadn’t run or attempted to evade the inevitable this time.

Perhaps she was finally ready.

“I imagined you differently.”

Rio stopped moving the plastic spoon.

The ghost of a smile tugged up her lips, because they always imagined her differently, whether she came in one form or another—friend or foe—all of it was subjective, always it was some other version of her they had imagined and built up in their head. Ink black linen shrouds and milk white bones. Deep green aspen leaves ornately woven into clothes with spun spider silk stitching, rust coloured gold, dried sea moss for beading. Rio laughed quietly, amused on private levels, she was never dressed correctly for the occasion.

Her lips tapered down into a serious expression. “Do you want to finish this?” Rio glanced at the frail elderly man drowning in his blankets and wires. “You always think you know how banana pudding tastes until you’re eating it, and then you realise it doesn’t taste like bananas at all. It tastes like something else. Something pretending to be a banana. Strange, right?” She angled the dessert toward him.

“Will there be banana pudding where I’m going, or…” His voice was a strained murmur - the whites of his eyes a dull cloudy colour. He gestured his finger downward.

Hell.

Rio’s expression gave nothing away.

She said nothing in response and idly scraped the spoon around.

“Not the time or place for that conversation, got it.” He nods perceptively. “Jill. Will she be there?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Kinda hope she isn’t.”

“Trust me, I know that feeling better than you think I do.”

“You do?”

Rio smiles, nodding slightly, and with that the tension breaks.

He draws a laboured breath. “Were you human once? You look…” Rio watches him gesture her up and down.

From the corner of her eye, the hospice nurses offer discrete, confirming nods. The kind that never require further conversation. Rio resists the sudden urge to show him her face—her true face—in response to his prying. The staff all knew when Rio visited. They knew when she left. She was a regular in this neck of the woods, a person they could feel in the air like the scent of perfume - invisible and entirely distinct. She didn’t like to trouble them anymore than they troubled her.

Sometimes, they caused her trouble.

But never the hospice nurses.

“I don’t know if there’s banana pudding. And there’s been a lot of Jills, far too many to remember. And I think you know I’m not here to talk about myself, don’t you?” Rio levels at the elderly man. “I’m here to do my job.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

There isn’t time for this - the back and forth.

The question amuses her nonetheless.

“Not particularly. I punch-in, punch-out, I do it very well, if that gives you any comfort. Did you…have a job like that?”

“Yeah, I wish now I hadn’t.”

“Well.” Rio pushes out her cheeks, slightly exasperated. “Too late for regrets.”

“Everything…hurts.” He looks at her tiredly. “Can we take the pudding to go?”

Rio likes that.

That makes her smile.

“Sure we can.”

A deep peaceful sigh left him - he was finally ready.

Expectantly, the elderly man extends his weathered hand toward her. His fingertips graze against her fingertips, wrinkly and warm, ready to be taken away from this place despite the fear of her never leaving him for a moment, as though with the lightest tug of his wrist he could rise from the bed, light as a feather, and Death will take him for a long scenic walk to the next place beyond this world.

Rio took his hand gently.

“Hold this for me a sec.” Rio precariously rested the banana pudding cup on his collarbone. She took the blade from her thigh, haphazardly tossing it round to catch the handle, then quickly stabbed his chest several times as though jabbing a hot pen knife into butter. “Thanks.” She flipped and holstered the blade - the soul collected.

She let go of his limp wrist, allowing it fall down against his stilled chest in a thud. The alarms bleeted loudly into the echoing long corridor - then the cries, always the cries of concerned family and visitors with no further business that concerned her - Rio left and thought nothing of their distress.

They always imagine her so differently.

Express delivery only, Rio had a busy night ahead.

She had to be in Westview come sunrise.

***

Deep and dark was the persistent endless night. The entire mountain fell upon her in a storm of heavy jagged rocks and unbreathable, thick sharp dust that scraped her skin and stung her eyes as it slowly settled. The stagnant heat of harsh beating sunlight, somewhere out there beyond the persistent constant dark, was how Wanda kept track of the time. In the evenings, the cool air brought damp cold mildew which coated the boulders pressing every inch of her body, and the water droplets struck her forehead from a single crack above in awkward unpredictable rhythms. The first night, she willed her survival.

Perhaps Kamar-Taj would pity her once Stephen explained the condition of her maddening grief. He would save her, of course. He had to save her. He was a hero. The Sorcerer Supreme, the protector of earth, the lone sworn sentinel against magic and mystical threats out there between the darkest shades of reality. And what was she?

Who was she if not a hero?

A woman relentlessly tormented into madness.

Perhaps this was the condition of all villains, Wanda decided.

The third night came, the sound of scraping rocks and movement disturbing her tomb above finally greeted her ears. She strained into the noise, welcomed it like a friend, then thought of her sons and felt her heart retreat backward in shame. The fourth night, the digging grew louder, and tears carved across her dry scabbed lips. Wanda clung to life like a leech. She hungered to survive. Lame, broken, disfigured and dying, she fought with insurmountable will to save herself—to persevere against the mountain.

Until she heard the faint howls.

The hungry snarls of scavenging pack animals disturbing the sediment above.

Wanda went slack, still, quiet and madder than her body could contain. Nobody was coming to save her. She closed her eyes, summoning her scarlet, imagining herself provoking wefts of bright glorious red from her palms, how the dust and sheets of rock would explode outward around her. She would rise in a tide of chaos, fire and glorious red—bright, burning scarlet.

But nothing came.

And Wanda wept and finally wished for Death.

“I have waited so long to say these words to you…” A woman in a crown of obsidian black glass laid beside her as though she had always been there. “Hello, Wanda Maximoff.”

She is there but not there. She is contorted around the jagged rock, her body stretched like ribbon strewn around each obstacle, more viper than woman—more creature than person. A dull green light exudes from her, bright enough to make Wanda wince and turn her cheek, but she feels sharp nails slip along her belly, her ribs, calling back her attention. She smells petrichor and…

Fermenting fruit, rotting cherries, the kind her step-father would stew and seal tightly in jars stacked neatly under the dank kitchen sink, and how the pungent smell of spoiled black cherries and sugar separating into alcohol would puncture their home as the jars were filtered months later, how she would slip into bed with Piotr and cradle his ears when their step-father drank to much of it, how their mother would place herself in front of the bedroom door like a barricade and bear the brunt of it.

A voice rumbles low like an earthquake, “Look at me.”

Wanda obeys instantly, terrified and without other choices to make.

Her fear delights Death.

Wanda’s voice frays with inactivity, “You came. I imagined you so…”

“Differently. Mhm. The name’s Rio.” She cranes her neck to get a better look, assessing the damage. “Your hips are shattered. Pretty nasty cranial bleed. Traumatic amputation at both knees, yuck. Your elbow is broken in…three places? That must be”—her eyebrows go upward in amazement, her head nodding enthusiastically—“Pretty painful, huh?”

“Please make it stop?”

“I will.” Rio smiles. “In time.”

Wanda watched in horror as the faint dull green smog begins to fade like the flicker of a dying candle. “Where are you going!”

“You took something special from me.” Rio stares down at the Scarlet Witch. “Somebody I have loved very, very much for centuries, Wanda. I don’t like it when people take my things.”

“Don’t leave me here!”

“Then tell me how to lift the spell?”

“The spell?”

“The nasty little hex you trapped her in for the last nine months!” The woman rears forward with maddening grief in her eyes. “Give her back to me and then we can talk about your mortal soul.”

There is no further explanation needed, Wanda understands perfectly well, knows exactly who Death is referring to. Agatha Harkness. She doesn’t know how to admit the truth—how to tell her the only answer she has to offer.

“You don’t know how to lift it.” Rio closes her eyes. “Well, Wanda, until we figure that out? I’ll know exactly where to find you. That’s what you said to her, right?”

“Please don’t do this.” Wanda lurches forward. “Please! Please take me with you, I’ll help you! I swear. Please…please you have to take me from this place!”

“I said I would take you, didn’t I?” Death plays with the tip of an ornate knife. “You just have to suffer for a little bit first. Agatha would like that. Let’s circle back in a few days. You’re not going anywhere, I’m sure you’ll be available,” her voice and light fades away.

#agathario #agatha harkness #rio vidal #Agatha x rio #Agatha and rio #Agathario fic #agatha all along #lesbian #femslash #top agatha #bottom rio #agathario eventual smut #agathario smut #agathario hurt/comfort #gay Agatha harkness #gay rio vidal #rio is the father

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suspiciouslackofclowns · 10 hours ago

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Here’s a little snippet from one of my Harringroveson drafts that I’m trying to scrounge up the motivation to turn into a full fic

“Did you set up that stuff like I asked?”

“Yeah.”

“The horseshoe and the cornhole?”

“Yes.”

“M’kay.” Steve purses his lips skeptically. “Rules for today?”

“No grab-ass,” Eddie sighs. When Steve quirks a brow at him, he exhales a long, drawn-out sigh and lolls his head to the side. “And no attitude.”

Seemingly pleased, Steve nods once. He squeezes Billy’s shoulder before he makes his way back toward the porch and disappears inside the cabin, screen door clapping shut behind him.

Once he’s gone, Eddie leans further over the table.

“I’m gonna eat your fuckin’ cookies when you’re not looking just so you can’t have any,” he whispers.

“I’ll make you spit ‘em up just as quick.”

“You’d have to catch me first.”

Billy huffs a laugh and spreads a little grin to match.

“I’ll give you a twenty second head start and still have your ass on the ground,” he lilts. Pushes himself up from his seat and meanders over to the fold-out table with the gifts on it, placing the container of cookies among the other little packages. While he’s standing there, he glances at the bag of metal rods and horseshoes on the ground, nudging it with his boot and scoffing. “Jesus, he’s gonna kick your ass, y’know that?”

Eddie rests his cheek in his hand, unabashedly staring at Billy’s ass.

His outfit isn’t too unlike what he usually wears when he wants to dress up a little; jeans and a button-down with the collar open, but something about him is especially alluring. He put more time into his hair, threw on a couple extra accessories, and his cologne hangs on the air wherever he goes.

All Eddie’s wanted all afternoon is to get him alone and suck the fragrance off of his skin.

“Why don’t you set it up for me so I can look at you while you’re doin’ it?”

The blond sputters out a laugh and turns back around to face him, leaning back against the table and crossing his arms.

“I’m not doing shit.”

Eddie makes a show of dragging his gaze back up to eye-level, soaking in the view every inch of the way.

“I’ll make one of the lil’ shitheads do it when they get here, then.”

“As if they even could,” Billy says with a chuckle. “Dunno why Stevie even asked you to do it, now that I think about it.”

“So you’re saying you’ll do it for me?”

Eddie bats his eyelashes flirtatiously. The blond sighs. Bends down to grab the bag along with the mallet resting beside it.

“Where’s the stuff for cornhole?”

When Eddie points to it, lying off to the side of the porch, Billy nods. He saunters off a little ways away and kneels down on one knee, grabbing one of the metal rods out of the bag and hammering it into the ground until it’s sturdy.

True to his word, Eddie watches him.

Until the door creaks open again.

The crunching of leaves is a little more fast-paced this time, and Eddie winces when something is set down harshly on the table, not even bothering to turn around and see who it is.

“Seriously, Eddie?” Steve sighs. “You couldn’t do the one thing I asked you?”

Eddie raps his knuckles against the underside of the table with his free hand.

“It was two things, actually.”

“Knock it off,” Steve warns. The tone of his voice, low and even, sends a chill up Eddie’s spine. “Today was supposed to be about him relaxing. It’s one thing to do shit like this at home, but today? Maybe act like you care about someone other than yourself for once.”

Without giving any time for a response, Steve swivels on his heel and returns up the steps, muttering angrily to himself until he’s inside.

A nasty, cold feeling swirls in Eddie’s chest like smoke. He gets up from the table and grabs the cornhole set, wordlessly setting it up parallel to the horseshoe on the opposite side of the yard.

When Billy’s finished, he returns with the empty bag in one hand and the hammer in the other, standing over the brunet while he sets up the remaining goal.

“I could’a gotten it,” he says. Nudges his boot against Eddie’s sneaker and cocks his head to the side when there’s no response. “Hey, what’s up?”

When the goal is standing on its own, Eddie rocks back on his knees and sighs.

“Nothing, just pissed our boyfriend off,” he says. “Again.”

Beside him, Billy drops to a squat. Sets the stuff in his hands aside and reaches out to heartily pat the brunet’s back, almost knocking him forward.

“I was wondering when he was gonna snap. He’s been stressed out all day, I’m sure he isn’t actually upset with you.”

Eddie feigns dizziness and slumps into Billy’s shoulder, which earns a chuckle as fingers card into his hair with a much more gentle touch.

“You didn’t hear him. Pretty sure he might actually make me sleep on the couch.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch with you.”

They share a chuckle. Billy scratches softly at Eddie’s scalp, coaxing a soft sigh out of him as he leans further into his partner. After a few beats, Billy shifts so that he sits criss-cross on the ground.

“Now he’s gonna yell at me ‘cause your clothes are getting dirty,” Eddie murmurs.

He laces his arms around Billy’s waist and tucks his face into the crook of his neck, smiling when a heavy arm drapes around him in return.

“He won’t yell at you.”

“I’ve been making him mad a lot recently. Not sure how to stop doing it, it’s like we’re just… I dunno.”

Billy sighs. Rubs up and down Eddie’s arm reasurringly.

“I really do think he’s just stressed out.”

“Mm.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

The brunet simply shakes his head.

It’s quiet for a little while, save for the breeze rustling the trees. Then the door opens and Hopper steps outside with a foil tray in his hand, making a straight line for the grill beside the porch. He does little more than spare a glance at the couple in the dirt.

“We have chairs, y’know,” he says.

“I know, I watched you set ‘em up earlier,” Billy lilts.

Hopper huffs and opens the grill.

“Could at least sit in ‘em if you’re not gonna help out with anything.”

“Hey, any other day, I would. You can run it by the boss, but I don’t think it’ll be a very productive conversation.”

The two go back and forth, and Eddie tunes them out. Lets himself sink his weight into his partner and temporarily ignore everything else.

#harringroveson #steddilly #metalsandwich #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #draft

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grapejuicestyless · 2 days ago

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OBX 4 RANT(contains spoilers)

Thoughts on Season 4 Ending:

Honestly, me personally, I think I always knew that eventually one of the Pogues would end up dying, but I always thought it would be more towards the end(season 5ish) so that at least the main cast would get to finish out the show. But I can’t say I’m shocked that JJ was killed off this season.

JJ was my favorite character obviously, and I think he definitely deserved a happy ending as much, if not more, than the other Pogues, but also, I think by killing off the comic relief and such a beloved character, it leaves so much room for plot development and other character arcs that weren't there previously.

Kiara's season is long overdue as well as Cleos. But more than that, I think that as amazing as the Jiara plot was, it held back Kiaras character. If you compare Season 3-4 Kiara to season 1-2 Kiara, shes gotten a lot less tough than previously. and while recognizing that the Pogues have gone through a lot and that can change a character, it seems like she was the only one to go through this change, especially after her and JJ got together.(Season 1/2 Kiara would have ended Ruthie tbh.)

Kiara is also one of my favorite characters, and I cannot wait to see how she navigates season 5.

Thoughts on Riara:

While I think both Rafe and Kiara are good characters, the show has progressed too far to have the characters end up together. I love a good enemies to lovers, but theres too much history, especially with JJ gone now, to put them together.

For starters, Kiara loved JJ, and they all just lost him. Season 5 will probably pick up right where they left off(assuming there is no time jump.) and all the Pogues will be grieving and trying to avenge their best friend. So, it doesn't make sense for Kiara to run straight into Rafe Camerons arms, especially when everyone knew that JJ did not like him or trust him, so it would probably feel like a betrayal to JJ to get with Rafe.

More than that, the actress has expressed her dislike for the ship, so it would not be surprising if it never even gets mentioned.

However, I do think the Pogues, especially Kiara, are going to have an intense breakdown over JJ that only Rafe will be able to help with. I would love to see Kiara and the other Pogues be able to lean on Rafe and use him as guidance to get revenge for JJ and also figure out their emotions that Rafe has dealt with for 4 seasons now. I would also love to see Rafe lean on the Pogues for guidance as part of his character arc without replacing JJ.

Thoughts on the actors:

As someone who had watched the show from day one, I find it so crazy at how people have turned a FICTIONAL CHARACTERS DEATH, into something so much bigger. JJ Maybank was a comfort character to me as well, and I definitely cried and was upset by the ending, but I think ultimately that's a good thing.

The fact that Rudy was able to bring to life a character so well that people are making petitions to get him back should say something about how insanely talented this cast is, but instead, all I've seen is people tearing down Rudy and Madison.

What went down between the actors is not confirmed. Just because a gossip account "confirms" something, doesn't mean it's true. Do I think it's sad that such close friends can't interact in public anymore? Yes. But it's weird to theorize over it, especially because this is someone's life, these are real people.

All the hate towards the actors is just crazy to me because if you truly cared about these people and wanted them to “find each other” again, you wouldn’t be bringing up the things that are the rumored reasons why they don’t talk in public anymore.

More than that, the hate to both of their girlfriends is just as insane. I see it happen to every attractive celebrity. The hate for Elaine, as someone who doesn’t really follow the actors personal lives, seems so forced and unwarranted. People make up rumors and act like it’s the truth without any real proof that it’s real. Same thing with Madisons girlfriend. It all just seems so unreasonable to blame people that have nothing to do with the writing of the script for how the season ended.

Truly, I hope both Madison and Rudy have very successful and long careers after Outer Banks not only in spite of all the people who are claiming that they can’t act(which is crazy because they literally made so many people cry and so many fans want their characters together because of how well they portrayed their characters) and that they will be nothing, but also because they are genuinely some of the most talented young actors today.

Thoughts on JJ’s return:

It’s been said by some people who work on Outer banks and write/produce the show that they could see Rudy coming back in season 5. Whether that be through a revival or through flashbacks, it’s been said that Rudy is open to coming back if it is possible.

For me personally, even though I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to have him back and have him get his happy ending, I think it would ruin the entire plot of the last season to bring him back. I think it would be nice to see the actor come back through flashbacks or other things, and I also see that as the most plausible scenario in which JJ would appear in season 5. But unfortunately, because of all the press and statements made about the show, I do not think JJ will be coming back.

Final thoughts/theories:

Did they bury JJ in Morocco?: Yes and No. I think that initially, it could have been JJ the Pogues buried, however, I think that after seeing all the backlash on them having JJ be randomly buried so far away from everyone else and making his worst fear, being alone, come true, they might change who got buried.

Keep in mind, Pope shot someone and killed them. It’s totally possible since we didn’t explicitly see who got buried that the writers could make it to be that they buried the man Pope killed instead of JJ. Or, that maybe if it was JJ, the grave is temporary until they can bring him back to the Outer Banks.

Will Luke have a redemption after JJ’s death?: Maybe. I think it’s possible to see the Pogues coming to Luke as part of their “revenge” for JJ, but once Luke finds out about JJ’s death, he will tell the Pogues what he was trying to tell JJ before he ran off. I don’t necessarily think he will have a “redemption” and at this point, the damage has already been done and he’s already permanently hurt JJ and theres no way to fix it. But, I could see him unintentionally telling the Pogues something that could help them.

What will happen to Pope?: I think two things are possible. I think they could send him away to the Military/jail, which will result in a breakout mission similar to what we saw in season 2 with John B and JJ in jail, or, we could see him hiding out until he gets his name pardoned by Shoupe. At this point, I’m not sure what will happen with him because so much has happened to the Pogues in such a short amount of time that his storyline could really go in any direction.

What about the baby?: I think at the end of OBX, we will get to see each of the Pogues doing what they dreamed of while still being together. Kiara will be saving turtles, Pope will end up in some kind of schooling, John B and Sarah will have the baby. Etc.

I could see them naming the baby JJ, and I think that makes the most sense to do. As for the theory that the whole show is just John B and Sarah telling their kid about JJ and the Pogues, as cute as that would be, it feels predictable and in a way, ruins the show for me. I feel like it would feel similar to the ending of how I met your mother(iykyk…) and I feel like it wouldn’t be the most satisfying ending to the show.

I don’t know if we will ever see the baby, or if we will just find out if the name will be JJ or not, who knows, but either way, it would be amazing to see each of the Pogues finally be able to settle down and get what they want.

I could also see the Pogues deciding to stick together and have that be what they all want after JJ’s death and honoring him by saving the property, but again, like Popes storyline, the ending could go either way I feel.

Anyways, those are just my thoughts/opinions on the new season of OBX. Any hate towards the actors will not be tolerated <333

#obx #obx season 4 #rafe obx #obx cast #obx spoilers #obx4 #jj maybank #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b routledge #sarah cameron #cleo obx #rafe outer banks

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