#George would be the best big a little could ask 4

[floridazcrazy]

Last night I had this this big brained thought of the 2019 rookies as sorority girls lol. Like do y'all think George would be one of the basement girls during rush

[fangirl-dot-com]

😈Track 4 - I Did Something Bad

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Alex was standing by the iconic bright blue garage. It was almost time for the rest of the grid to arrive for testing, but he didn’t care about that. All he cared about was George’s post from three days ago. The paddle game and its players were still a mystery to him. 

Who has George playing with? And why hadn’t he told him? 

Weren’t they supposed to be best friends? 

The Thai rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the numerous comments about how the two other players must have been Logan Sargeant and Y/n L/n. And if they were the players then that must mean that they will be the new Lamborghini drivers.  

He scoffed out loud. “As if.” 

“As if what?” a French voice sounded. Alex turned to look at his new rookie teammate. He tried to give the twenty-year-old a smile. He held up his phone, but the screen had gone dark Theo didn’t need to know that Alex was trying to find gossip like a middle-schooler. 

“Just fan theories,” he muttered, opening his phone back up and exiting out of Instagram and back to his messages. His eyes widened as he read through the chat. 

Theo’s eyebrow arched. “What’s wrong?” 

“George wants us over by the media pen. We got to go.” 

The two Williams drivers both started to quickly walk. Alex weaved through the crowds, turning back once every so often to see if Theo was still with him. For half a second, he remembered how he would just leave Logan to fend for himself. The American was often late getting to places because he didn’t know where anything was. At the time, Alex had said that he wasn’t responsible for his teammate. 

But now as he was navigating the big crowds at Bahrain, he wished he had spent a little more time with Logan, making sure that he was ok. 

However, that was in the past and Alex couldn’t waste time on it. Theo was his teammate now and Logan was off doing who-knows-what. On the inside, he was hoping to never run into the blond again. The American was just another sign of his mistakes. 

He always believed that he was the superior of the two, often questioning James as to why Logan hadn’t been replaced farther into the season like Nyck had been.

The team principal always rolled his eyes at Alex. 

“It’s because we aren’t Red Bull. We don’t want to drop Logan like Red Bull dropped you.” 

That had stung, but Alex always internally laughed. Logan was inevitably dropped by Williams, just like he had been with Red Bull. The only difference is that Alex stayed and extended his contract. Was this how Max Verstappen felt? 

Alex was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the back of someone and rammed into them.  

“Oh, hey mate.” 

Speak of the devil. 

“Hi Max,” he greeted back, rubbing his chest. “Did your back get bigger or have you always been this broad.” 

Max winced at the inuendo. Wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be a string bean like Alex or George could be. 

“Ah, Albono, no need to be jealous that Max can probably bench press more than you.”

The Dutchman internally smiled at the familiar Monegasque voice. Charles had made his way over the moment that Alex ran into Max. 

Theo was right next to Alex still, reminding Charles of a lost puppy. He didn’t understand why Alex hadn’t let Logan do that last year if the Thai was fine with it this year. The Monegasque didn’t have time to ask before Lando and Oscar joined the bunch. His green eyes flitted over to George and Lewis who were whispering to each other. 

Lando had a grin on his face as he greeted the four drivers. 

“Hello mate.” The Briton clasped Max’s hand before going around. Oscar followed in suit. 

Theo, a little nervous around the older drivers, tried to make conversation. 

“How are the cars looking?” 

Suddenly he had five pairs of eyes on him, which maybe would have made others shrink away, but the Frenchman didn’t want to appear weak. 

Oscar’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They look good. Maybe someone will win a race this year.” He poked Lando’s side, making the brunet squawk. 

“I’ll win if Max decides to DNF.” 

The group laughed a bit. Max responded with an huff. 

“For the last time Lando, you need to be faster to beat me. I won’t let you pass and if I’m behind you, I’ll just pass you again.” 

He had a cheeky grin making Lando pout. 

Charles turned back to Theo and Alex. 

“How are you two feeling about the cars?” 

The two Williams drivers perked up. They had been working hard all winter break to make upgrades. Alex would never admit, but most of the ideas had come from what Logan had said during 2023. They didn’t have a championship contending car, but they would be able to bring in some decent points. 

Theo took the opportunity to answer. 

“It looks all right. Hoping to make it into Q2 at least. We have good 1-lap pace.” 

Lando snorted. “You’ll definitely make it into Q2. I’m forecasting no crashes in Free Practice.” 

Theo’s head tilted. “How come?” 

“Because there’s not a certain driver on the grid this year. Now maybe I can win a race without having to go around his debris. ” 

“Lando you’re such a narcissist,” Max murmured, looking around hoping no one heard him. The last thing the Briton needed was another cancel culture on him. 

Lando’s green eyes widened. “What? I’m only saying the truth. Even Oscar was saying something about it this morning. Right mate? Logan will probably never put a foot in the paddock again.” 

Oscar looked down, semi-embarrassed, but also, again, he shouldn’t be worrying about Logan anymore. The Aussie looked back up. 

“Yeah, I mean, he crashed out a lot and it was all his own faults. It’d probably be better if he stayed away for a bit.” 

Max and Charles didn’t seem too certain that Oscar truly believed it. But the look in Oscar’s eyes did tell them that there was some truth. Max wanted to bring up the fact that Charles last year did crash out a few times, but he still had a seat. Charles’s hand on his back made him wait. 

It was silent for a moment before George walked up to the group. 

“The new drivers are about to walk in. Do you want to go with me to meet them?” 

Charles and Max looked at him and eagerly nodded. Oscar and Lando shrugged, but agreed to walk with George. Alex said nothing but still tagged along, which made Theo follow the older drivers. 

Time to go see who copped Logan’s driver number. 

Alex truly didn’t want to see another car with the number 2 on it that wouldn’t be Logan. It wouldn’t feel great. But Alex guessed that’s what the past was, an emotion that just gnawed on your insides until it went away with time. 

He once again ran into someone, but this time it was Lando. 

“Lando, why’d you…” 

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as his eyes were now glued to the turnstiles. 

There was no way. 

Logan grinned when his eyes landed on the small group. George, Max, and Charles were still walking toward him and you, but the other four stopped dead in their tracks. 

“Nice and sunny today?” Logan jokingly questioned as he hugged George first. You made yourself busy with greeting Max and Charles. 

You and Logan had decided to show up in the Lamborghini merchandise. Logan was in a black t-shirt but you were dressed in a Lamborghini issued pantsuit. But for the race next week, the two of you would show up in sponsor clothes. The yellow decals looks great against his black shirt. 

Charles smiled as he leaned back from the hug. “Looking a bit bee-ish today.” 

You rolled your eyes as you looked down your own suit that had bits of yellow intricately designed. 

“Charles,” you whined, “now I won’t be able to see anything else. Even our car is black and yellow.” 

You let out a huff, but the smile on your face contradicted how you were acting. Logan walked up next to you and greeted the other two, which gave you and George time to talk as well. 

“They’re still staring,” Logan murmured as he leaned in to side hug Max. 

“Let them.” 

The now group of five walked farther into the paddock. Logan had wanted to say something, or even look at the other four, but the look on their faces deterred him. With your arm linked in his, you pulled him along, also not giving him a chance to stop. 

“You don’t need them.” 

Logan nodded. 

Charles leaned closer. “They were so sure that Logan wasn’t going to come back this season. I think Lando was betting that Mick would be in the seat.” 

Your smirk grew. “Played them like a violin Logan. Making it look so easy for the rest of us.” 

Logan barely glanced back at the still stuck drivers, who turned around to watch them walk away. 

“They’re looking at me like I did something bad. But, why does it feel good?” the American male asked. His heart wanted to hurt because of how they treated him last year, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at their jaws on the floor. 

Max snorted. “Because they fucked you up last year mate.” 

George let out a gasp and put his hands over your ears. “No bad words around the children Max.” 

You quickly batted his hands away. “I’m twenty-two George. Also, why aren’t your hands over Charles ‘vanilla is the best ice cream flavor’ Leclerc’s ears instead?” 

The Ferrari-driver glared at you. “Says the woman who thinks chocolate is somehow superior.” 

The two of you started to bicker as you walked. George, Max, and Logan laughed from behind. Logan pulled out his phone and took a quick picture before opening his schedule to see who he was with for media. He quietly cursed as he looked at the names. 

George winced at the photo. “I can’t believe that they’re putting you with Lando, Oscar, and Alex.” 

A quick buzz from Max’s phone made him take it out quickly. He smiled as he showed Logan. 

“I guess they changed mine. I’m now with you and the wolves.” 

Logan tried to feel a bit better about it, but he was visibly deflating. He just hoped that he could sit next to the Dutchman without having to sit next to anyone else. 

Thankfully, when it was time, Max had saved him an end seat. It was Logan on the left, then Max, then Alex, then Lando, then Oscar. Logan hadn’t greeted any of them as he walked in, only giving Max a quick smile before they got started. He ran a hand through his hair quickly and his eyes looked over at John, his new PR manager. The older man gave him an encouraging nod as a journalist started to ask Max a question. 

To Logan’s delight, most of the questions were for Max about the RB20 and if it would be as fast as the RB19. Max went through the motions to give his most mundane answer he could muster. Logan started to pick at his fingernails as he waited for the next question, which was for him. His head rose to look at the small crowd. 

“James McHone, with News 5, question for Logan. Why did you come back to race for Lamborghini after a very unsuccessful rookie year with Williams?” 

He wanted to wince, but kept his face neutral. He raised the mic to his lips. 

“Well, uh, I thought I wasn’t done and hadn’t been able to show people what I could do. During 2023 season, I had multiple people telling me that Williams was the best I could ever get and to not throw away a good thing. But in the end, to people it seems that I did throw it away. However, now with Lamborghini and Michael, I think I can finally show that they made the wrong decision.” 

Whispers went through the crowd at his last statement, but the genuine smile on John’s face made him feel better. 

“Melany Lancy, with Circuit Noise, follow up question for Logan. Some drivers have mentioned that a possible return for you hadn’t been something that was believable and that Logan Sargeant should have never gotten into Formula 1. Thoughts?” 

Logan took a deep breath before answering. He smirked and rolled his shoulders a bit. 

“I know I’m a good driver with the right car, and Williams just didn’t have that for me. I believe that Lamborghini has everything that I require. The team has really listened to me and Y/n, my teammate, during the break. The car was designed for us. I hadn’t really heard any rumors regarding drivers saying I should have never been in Formula 1. But all I can really say is if they drop my name, I don’t own them anything. I’m just here to do my job and do it well.”

Logan wasn’t asked any more question after that, but he could see the embarrassed red start to fill in Oscar’s, Lando’s, and Alex’s faces. He hadn’t heard rumors, but he had heard them say that first hand back in Brazil. 

He was quick to stand up and leave once they got the go ahead. He had a big smile as he made his way back to the garage with Max in tow. Somehow, the Lamborghini garage was placed next to Red Bull. On the other side of the navy garage was Ferrari. 

The American could only laugh at the thought of them trying to put both Italian teams garages next to each other. Enzo Ferrari would roll in his grave and Tonino would have a fit. He glanced over to Max before lifting his hand in a wave. 

“Y/n! Lo sai che a Tonino verrebbe un infarto vedendoti nel garage rosso?” (You know that Tonino would have a heart attack seeing you in the red garage?) 

Max’s head whipped at the fluent sounding Italian that left Logan’s mouth. Logan chose to ignore and kept smiling. Even in the Ferrari garage, Charles’s eyes went wide at the sound. The Monegasque’s head turned to you waiting for an answer. 

You waved a hand down like being in the Ferrari garage wasn’t a big deal. 

“E piu come se Enzo si stesse rotolando nella tomba. Charles aveva fatto una prova del gelato per il suo negozio e ne volevo un po’” (More like Enzo is rolling in his grave. Charles had test ice cream for his shop and I wanted some.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. Max just stood there in an utter look of confusion and bewilderment. 

“Charles, hai altro da condividere?” (Charles, do you have more to share?” 

The Ferrari driver was still frozen as he listened to you converse with one of his engineers in fluent Italian. It scared him even more when he truly realized that Logan was fluent as well. He quickly shut his eyes and shook his head before answering. 

“Questi ragazzo. Sono io quello che finira presto nella tomba. Si, ne ho di piu.” (These kids. I’m the one that’s going to be in an early grave. Yes, I have more.) 

Charles beckoned them over. Logan took the lead, letting a still very confused Max follow him. He finally found his voice once he stepped into the garage. 

“Ok, but what the actual fu-” 

“Language!” you yelled, licking the spoon that was currently being used to eat more ice cream. “Charles, I think the tiramisu could use some more espresso. It’s still a bit too sweet.” 

Charles muttered something, but wrote some words down in a separate yellow notebook that had “LEC” on the front. 

Logan had found a cup of some strawberry and started to eat it. Max stood still but was handed a cup of a familiar green ice cream. He looked up at Charles with wide eyes. 

“I thought you said that this was an abomination to the ice cream society Charlie,” the Dutchman said with a smirk on his face. 

Charles went a bit red. 

“Well, you like it so…” he didn’t finish and just let the words die off. Max just hummed contently as he ate the peppermint flavored ice cream. After Charles finished writing something, he took a deep breath. 

“So, when did the two of you learn Italian?” 

Your mouth was full of ice cream so you nudged Logan. He put the spoon back in the little cup before answering. 

“Y/n and I always thought it’d be funny to learn a language so that we could talk about stuff together and not everyone would know. I wanted to learn Russian but someone couldn’t tell the difference between the vowels.” 

You let out a whine at his confession. 

“Russian also doesn’t sound as sexy as Italian.” 

Without realizing, Max hummed in agreement. Charles went bright red at that as well. 

“Anyway, so when we were in F3 together for a little bit, we started to buckle down and learn it. Took about a year and a half to master it but we did.” 

The Ferrari driver looked a bit pained as he looked down at his cup. If Logan knew Italian, what had he overheard when Charles wasn’t aware. Logan could only guess what he was feeling like right now. 

“Charles, I never overheard anything bad from you. And if I did, it was only constructive criticism. I actually listened to it a lot and it helped with COTA.” 

Logan put a hand on Charles’s shoulder to try to convey that he really didn’t care. The Monegasque was never mean or rude toward him, like some orange drivers were. And Logan thinks that’s why it hurts more. The people who were supposed to be his good friends were mean to him. And the people who he wasn’t even that close with were nicer. It made his brain hurt. 

You took this as a moment to also confess something. 

“Logan also knows Dutch.” 

The American went bright red under Max’s eyes. The Dutchman had a big smirk.  

“Weet je?” (Do you now?) 

Logan didn’t reply in the language. 

“Yes, I know some. I’m not as fluent as you are.” 

“He wanted to learn it so he could understand most of your other interviews where you talked more about the car.” 

“Y/n!” Logan whipped around and yelled. You only shrugged. 

“It’s the truth.” 

Logan then suddenly remembered something. He turned toward Charles. 

“Y/n knows French!” 

A spoon hit his head, but the American didn’t even flinch. This time, it was your turn to turn as red as the Ferrari car behind you. 

Charles cooed at, surprisingly, the both of them. 

“Aw, multi-lingual babies.” 

Your head was in your hands. “I am never talking to you ever again.” 

“Well that’s not helpful,” a male voice sounded at the front of the garage. Michael and Marissa were both smiling at the group of four. You slid off the table that you were currently sitting on. 

“I guess that’s our cue to go. Remember Charles, more espresso, less depresso.” 

You led Logan out of the garage as you followed the siblings. 

“Je te verrai plus tard petite abeille!” (I’ll see you later little bee!) 

You groaned once more after hearing Charles call after you. You glared up at Logan.

“You better be thankful that I love you.” 

Logan put a hand on his heart. “Aww, love you too.” 

“I still won’t hesitate to run you off the track though.” 

“Wouldn’t doubt it tesoro.” 

lamborghini_racing has posted

lamborghini_racing didn't throw away a good thing

liked by phoenix95, lamborghini, sargeant4ever, and 3,205,859 others

lambo_f1duo ok, but the caption slays 💅

swift_on_track truly is a reputations era, the black fits are fitting

charles_leclerc look, you even came in your little bee car 🐝

phoenix95 I will run you off the track with said bee car, it comes with a stinger

charles_leclerc ok, no more ice cream for you

phoenix95 I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT DO THAT

f1_gridgang man, this team is going to be top of the grid

lambof1 your honor, I fear they slayed too much

venus2 has posted

venus2 i'd do it over and over and over again if I could

liked by maxverstappen1, sargeantgirlie, oscarpiastri, and 5,305,104 others

lambovsferrari glad to see you back in the paddock bro, wouldn't be the same without you 💪

loscar_no_more BAHAHAHA NOT OSCAR HIDING IN THE LIKES

my_goat_logan you're going to come back even better than before!

phoenix95 picture creds would be preferable 🤨

venus2 oh sorry, thanks max for taking the pictures

maxverstappen1 you're welcome!

phoenix95 I still have Charles in my garage

maxverstappen1 you give him BACK

phoenix95 no.

charles_leclerc THAT'S IT - NO MORE ICE CREAM FOR THE TWO OF YOU (Logan let me out)

venus2 on it

ferrari&lambo_crew by I know that Enzo is rolling in his grave rn and Tonino is on the verge of an aneurism

tswizzlexf1 the I Did Something Bad lyrics >>>>>>

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 it just felt so good

liked by venus2, barnes&noble, dior, lewishamilton, and 5,305,201 others

booktok she's a racer AND A BOOKWORM?? she's just my type

venusxphoenix and Logan's too apparently

y/n.nation I'm digging the new layout and profile

venus2 you're welcome for the books

phoenix95 could have gotten them myself (ily and thank you)

charles_leclerc you're being...too nice 🤨

venus2 she loves me

phoenix95 gag (affectionately) 🫶

charles_leclerc SEE

maxverstappen1 it's her love language

venus2 it's the same as you and max talking about each other to everyone else

charles_leclerc low blow man, low blow 👊😔

rari_lambo_quartet I love them your honor

bee_lamborghini so ready for the first race

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[tabbedtabby]

good luck, babe! | chapter 2

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: i wasn’t gonna add cady but now i am because it’s convenient for me so just pretend she’s in the last chapter lol. also they get high way faster than what’s accurate but i wrote this in like 4 sittings it felt longer to me pls spare me. if the picture collage thing is ugly i’m sorry i’m not a tumblr native 😭 but anyways big thanks to everyone who interacted with the first chapter mwah!!!!! (photo creds from left to right: @/mediorcesav on insta, @/marvelsgirl616, casual mv by chappell roan)

——————————————————————

When the bell rings after 7th period, you’re already halfway out the door.

You’re already sober enough from earlier so you’re desperate to get outside, even if Regina will be there. You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance. You like your after school alone time; you didn’t want the person who literally ruined your social life to be there. At least maybe she’ll leave right after you smoke. You realize she most likely won’t after you remember she drives. How could you forget that bedazzled orange Jeep?

You feel the dappled sunlight sink heat into your skin once you enter the woods behind the baseball field. It really was a nice day. You make your way to your usual spot and lift up the pile of sticks and leaves that hide your forest stash. The guy who sells to you charges a ridiculous amount for carts compared to just the plant so you try to use them sparingly. Even if this shit stinks up the whole forest.

You’re not sure if Regina will care or not if you start without her, so you pull out your phone to pass the time. Besides, you want to be sober anyway when she finally shows.

After about 20 minutes of standing there, you start to get impatient. You almost pull the bag out to start without her before you finally see a flash of blonde hair from behind the trees.

“Took you long enough.” you mutter, already opening the bag without paying Regina much attention. Your patience was windeled, and you don’t especially want to talk to her anyway.

“Sorry I have a social life. I guess you wouldn’t know,” she snaps back, her voice strained.

You feel the annoyance crawl down your back like a centipede, and you have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from saying something back to her. She holds basically your life in her hands since you’d be both fucked and poor if she decided to snitch on you. Probably not a good idea to start a fight on the first day of your little deal, but she made it difficult.

You grab one of the cans from under the pile of leaves as you see Regina cross her arms a couple feet away from you. Her eyes watching your every move makes you a bit wary on instinct. You feel like a mouse being stalked by a snake. You grab a decently sized piece out of the bag and put it on the crushed can. You couldn’t be bothered to roll your own blunts, so this was the next best thing.

“How much have you smoked before?” you ask, just wanting a general idea on how much she should have so that you wouldn’t have to drag her to the parking lot. Apparently, she takes great offense.

“What are you, my mom? Just hurry up so I can get out of here,” she says begrudgingly, like being out here was the biggest possible drag on her life. She was really grating on your last nerve right now.

“Trying my best.” you respond dryly, giving her a snide smile as you fiddle with the lighter.

“Well, obviously it’s not good enough. What are you even doing, anyway? This is the shadiest shit I’ve ever seen—”

You blow the first hit out of your mouth harshly. “Can you please just shut the fuck up? I don’t want to be out here with you either!”

“That’s shocking. I’m surprised this isn’t your ultimate wet dream, being alone in the forest with me,” Regina sneers, nothing but disgust on her face. Like you were some kind of animal instead of human.

“What’s that going off of? The photo collection that you made up?” you snap, putting the can down for a minute. “Believe me, I want nothing to do with you either. But since we’re gonna be out here every day, you could at least make it a little easier.”

You can tell she wants to rip your throat out just by the way she looks at you. Pursed lips, downturned eyebrows, piercing blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner almost as sharp as the look she’s giving you right now. She’s way too tense for someone about to get high.

“Whatever.” she finally says, although the edge to her voice makes you want to scoff. Better not to sour her mood more than necessary, though.

Pleased with the newfound silence, you light the piece on top of the can once more and take another hit. It’s strong enough to make you cough, and you sit down against the foot of a tree. Regina raises an eyebrow at you.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of professional,” she says, but her voice isn’t quite as taunting as before. It almost sounded like a joke. Maybe she was considering not making this hell for you after all.

“It’s not good if it doesn’t make you cough.” you respond with a shrug. She looks at you expectantly, but you pretend you don’t see. You don’t want to have to stand back up just to pass her the can.

Eventually, she sits next to you (albeit, begrudgingly) and you pass the can to her, lighting it again when she puts her lips up to it. She explodes into a coughing fit the minute the smoke hits her lungs.

You can’t help but snicker at the sight of Regina George coughing her lungs out with just one hit from the can. It was almost strange to see her not perfectly arranged the way she was at school. You were up close enough to see the strings that sew her together.

She glares at you from the corner of her eye, but it only makes you laugh harder. You’re acting stupid right now and you’re aware of it, but you can’t stop. It’s a nice sort of high. Not like when you smoke too much and everything starts to blur together, which happens more than you’d like to admit. But this is nice. You lean back until your back touches the grass.

Regina has a couple more hits until she’s smoked about everything that’ll come out of it, and you both just lay there on the forest floor. You’re surprised she isn’t whining about dirt getting on her outfit. Maybe she’s too stoned to care. She never did answer your question about her tolerance.

Your thoughts go elsewhere as you stare up at the sky. The tops of the trees cover most of it. The sun from behind the leaves make them look almost as if they are glowing. It’s so beautiful. You wish you could reach up and feel it between your own fingertips, the fabric of the sky.

“You don’t care about what I think about you.” You hear Regina say, her voice only a couple of feet away from you. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You don’t why it’s funny to you, but it is. You feel the laugh escape your lips before you can stop it.

“I guess not.” you respond, even though you’re not certain if she wanted a response. It sounded like she was just thinking out loud. You feel that.

“Everyone else does. They grovel to me like lap dogs.” she says amusingly, although her voice drags and you can tell she’s starting to get tired.

“You don’t like it?” you ask with surprise.

“It’s the way it should be,” she declares, as if you’re stupid for even asking. “But everyone else is a less hot version of me. It gets annoying talking to the same clones that hang onto my every word. Like, just be normal for once in your life,” Regina complains, an annoyed edge in her tone near the end. Somehow you could tell she was talking about Gretchen. That poor girl really did hang onto every little thing Regina said or did. It was almost worshipful. But in an unfortunate, sad kind of way.

Her problems didn’t seem all that hard compared to others, but you don’t say anything. It’s intesting to you to hear her talk about this stuff, to see what goes on in her head. You’d never really considered what her life was like. You wonder if there’s a reason she’s the way that she is. There must be. Everyone’s a product of their environment in some shape or form. Of course, it doesn’t excuse everything she’s done, but that thought makes you want to get inside her head somehow.

You shake your head at the silly train of thought. Regina George was just plain mean. Nothing more to it. You turn your head to look at her as you realize you never responded.

Her eyes are closed, hair splayed out on the forest ground. She looks stoned as fuck, her chest rising and falling dangerously slow. You snort and roll your eyes. How low was her tolerance? You already felt mostly normal again.

Somehow she still manages to look perfect, even if you could mistake her as a corpse. You lay your head back down. Your parents wouldn’t mind if you were home a little late, right?

-

After that, you and Regina would meet to smoke behind the school almost every day, except when Regina had plans with her friends and you would just go alone. You still wish she wasn’t there, but sometimes she’s okay to talk to when she isn’t being a priss. She complains about her friends and boys and how sometimes in the morning her eyelash curler refuses to work. It’s entertaining to hear about how shallow her problems are. You still want to punch her most of the time, though.

This time around, however, she’s complaining about math. Something about her teacher failing her on purpose or something to make her have sex with him to get her grade up. You seriously doubt that’s true, but you listen anyway.

“Like, he’s totally obsessed with me. I know how to do the work, but he always marks it as wrong anyway. That Cady girl helps me with it, and she’s some kind of math freak.” Regina exclaims, taking a huge hit from the smoking can. She immediately sputters and you take the can back from her with a slight roll of your eyes. That’s probably enough for her.

“Is she, though?” you ask, taking a hit from the can yourself. “She’s in my Calc class and lately she’s been doing really shitty. I guess you guys are rubbing off on her,” you say with amusement.

Regina takes a deep breath, an agitated sigh coming out of her. “What’s the point of her tutoring me, then? They’re gonna take me off the soccer team if I don’t start passing like all of my classes. It’s like she wants me to fail.” she seethes, and she sounds genuinely upset. She could afford to pay attention in class instead of doing her makeup if better grades is what she wants, but alas.

You kind of want to offer to help her, but it’s her own fault so you bite your tongue. You put the can down with a sharp sigh. You’d rather not smoke too much around her in fear that you’ll start acting stupid and she’ll post it all over the internet. Just the slightly more giggly high is fine for now.

Regina stares bullets through you as your stash back under the pile of leaves. You pick up your backpack and get ready to leave. You feel fine enough to walk home.

“You’re not gonna offer to help me?” she asks indignantly, as if you owed it to her. You have to bite your lip to keep from groaning in annoyance. Could she be any more of a spoiled brat?

“Why would I do that?” you respond, feeling that your distaste seeps through your voice as well as your expression. You’re tired, both from school and from hanging out with Regina for too long. You just want to go home.

“Because I’m keeping your secret?” she says with that tone that reminds you of a viper. The one she uses to get whatever she wants from people by threatening to ruin them. Your chest bubbles with that same anger as that day in the cafeteria.

“Dude, I’m literally your plug. I’ve done enough for you to keep your mouth shut.” you snap, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. She was really starting to piss you off. That’s how it was with Regina; just when you think she’s all right, she starts doing this bullshit again.

“So what? I don’t need weed. I can break our deal whenever I want. Besides, you’ll only tutor me until the end of the month. It’s not that deep.” It’s only the beginning of October, so you’d be wasting more of your time with her for the next month, but of course she doesn’t include that. God, you’re so pissed off, but what can you do? Not be able to smoke anymore? Get suspended again? You hate that she can just hang this over your head until you comply. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as you stare at her, one of her hands on her hip and her eyebrows raised as if you’re a dog she just told to heel that won’t listen. Your hands bunch into tight fists until your knuckles turn white. You really wish you had seen her with that bruise right about now.

“Fine.” you spit, pushing your way out of the clearing and back towards the school. Great. Now it would take even longer to shake Regina off. You shoulder branches of leaves out of your way, your feet kicking at the dirt. You wished she could just be fucking normal and that she never started any of this in the first place.

“I better see you tomorrow, loser!” You hear Regina scream from somewhere behind you. God, you were gonna kill her. Or yourself. Whichever came first.

[peachetteprice]

27 Hawthorn Court | Simon "Ghost" Riley

Chapter 4 - The Apple Falls Far

Chapter Summary:

Ruth has doubts about her previous endeavours with the investigation. Though her worries are soon dispelled after a familiar face invigorates some much-needed passion for justice.

1.8K Words

Content warning: mentions of alcohol (?)

Ruth entered the bar at no later than seven in the evening.

There was a dainty whisper of a piano and saxophone harmonising in some form of light jazz - though she was never much of a connoisseur - shrouded by tangerine and fuschia flourescent lights which somehow possessed the ability to amplify the band's smooth tones, handily concealing any discolour Ruth felt about those case files by virtue of bewitchment.

It was a dark and damp evening, all things considered. The only thing that could have salvaged her mood was a heavy drink and some menial chatter with the bartender.

So, she approached the bar, and - after waiting for some time, clearly understanding the general predicament Ruth had gotten herself into - the bartender asked with concern;

"What can I get you?"

Ruth sighed.

There was nothing she could have done except sigh. It wasn't her place to inform anyone of her own broken hubris, let alone a bartender privy to the most detrimental of secrets. Dissolving marriages, petty crime, cheating scandals; it was his day-to-day, and it was in Ruth's best interest not to become part of his orderly convoy of discussion for the next patron.

"Give me your strongest," she muttered, bottom writhing on a stool too small for her. 

It was such a subtly aggravating predicament.

After some time, as the bartender rooted beneath the bar top for a drink suitable for a grown woman, he swiftly placed it before her.

Ruth stared at it for a moment before saying;

"I said your strongest, George." She sighed. Because George was playing 'barkeep', and she was his sole customer, though he wasn't doing a very good job at it. "You can do better than orange juice."

And he likely could. 

It was then, that, only a few moments later - after a rummage through the cabinet on his hands and knees (which was really a wicker basket full of snacks and cartons of juice) - the bartender produced apple juice, this time, placing it before Ruth with a proud smile

"That's more like it," she hissed with adoration, stabbing the straw through the flimsy sheath of aluminium foil, "did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah." His eyes wavered around the bar, and Ruth watched them ardently as he spoke. "But Molly stole my brachiosaurus."

"Why did she steal your brachiosaurus?" 

"I don't know." Muttered George, and he went straight back to wiping stains along the bar top with a heavy-machinery-themed rag where there were none. 

So, there was silence. And Ruth let it hang.

Perhaps she was thinking of how her own day went, uneventful and uninspired as she crawled through the streets of Greater Manchester on roads too choked with traffic and suffocated by people too idiotic for their own aspiring ideals. It was a day of rampant teenagers stealing their parent's cars and running them dry around the estates, middle-aged alcoholics starting public brawls in the car parks of Asda and Tesco - a national issue - and faux calls from elderly ladies complaining about pieces of litter discarded in their front gardens. 

"How did you feel when she stole your brachiosaurus?" Ruth was palming over the text on the rear of the carton, now, reading line by line. No added sugar, no added colouring, naturally sourced ingredients.

"I felt sad."

Sad. Huh.

Ruth knew a little bit about feeling sad. Dull, she would have called it, not wanting to give anybody the impression she was streaming tears in the shower on a dark night or onto her pillowcase before she fell asleep. Dull was a feeling she felt often, and in small waves, though sometimes big - but nothing more than a wailing rumble because that was a different feeling entirely - and it was one she knew rather well, too. It wasn't her favourite emotion, per se, but it might have been her most default one

It was intruiging, it truly was - George's predicament, that was - and she wished to further the conversation, probing

"Did ya feel anything else?"

George pondered for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against the sprig of curls in front of his forehead. He'd need a trim soon. "Maybe a little bit angry." He whispered, almost as if it was a secret he shouldn't tell.

"Angry. Because it was precious to you? Your brachiosaurus."

George thought, napping a carton of apple juice for himself, and - although it was almost seven-thirty and he wasn't allowed sugar before bedtime - Ruth thought he might have needed it and let it slide. "Yeah. And it was mine."

"It was yours." She affirmed, sucking the last dribbles from the bottom of the carton. 

"Molly was being mean." He grumbled, flicking the curl of hair from his own forehead. He had the most beautiful set of locks, did George, and he was the spitting image of his father when he was younger, too. Bright, gleaming blue eyes and sweet bulbous cheeks that crinkled whenever he smiled.

George was the complete antithesis of Ruth. She had dark, rather frazzled-looking brown hair from too much styling in her younger years - much more monotone and less saturated than George's - and matching brown eyes, though if the lighting was generous, they almost shone with flecks of gold.

"Did'ya shout at her to give it back?" Ruth pondered, smiling a little as she spoke.

"Daddy said you shouldn't shout. He said that if you ask politely, they'll give it back."

Hm. Daddy. Chris, he was called. A bastard of a man. 

"And did she?" Ruth brushed the hair from his eyes, ensuring it wouldn't irritate his lashes anymore.

George simply nodded, intent on drinking his before expelling his thoughts.

Yes, he explained. She did give it back because she was just being a little bit mean, but not loads mean. Otherwise, she wouldn't have given it back. If Molly was being loads mean - and George was really dragging out the vowels in 'loads' - he would have called on the teacher to intervene, of course, because that's how dynamic in a reception classroom prevailed.

"Why d'you think Molly stole your brachiosaurus?" She repeated, barely remembering she'd asked it earlier.

George gulped down the last droplets of juice, blinking blankly, before answering;

"Maybe she was lonely."

Maybe she was lonely.

What drivel.

There was a full glass of wine, now - to the rim, in fact - within Ruth's palm. The case files were on her lap, including her typed notes at her hip. Truth be told, there wasn't much to say about it. The affinity she felt to that little boy, plagued eyes boring through her skull, was crippling. The suspect's disposition, moreover, equally so, just as were the troubling words spoken by Price in the booth of the McDonald's in Sale.

"Lonely..." She sighed, finger travelling the circumference of the glass.

Perhaps she was lonely, too. Perhaps she needed a drink elsewhere, somewhere a little more crowded, a little more stuffed with people who could talk her ears off - whether they were a part of her conversation or not.

Yes, that was it.

She needed a drink.

And so, by nine, she had adorned her newest pair of black heels - ones with thick wedged soles and velvet trim - with a smart top with jeans. She wasn't one for princess dresses or overt makeup, nor did she wish to see any of her colleagues (or God-forbidding, any of her previous convicts) in an outfit that showed more than its provocation whenever she bent at the waist.

By ten, she was sitting in the pub with a vodka and coke in hand - though, it was more at her fingertips as they lazily drawled over the side of glass, smearing the condensation along - eyes transfixed on the bartender as he shifted from one side of the bar to the other with a smile that could only be described as 'over-compensating'.

It took another few minutes of silence before anyone approached her. She might have accepted the invitation to conversation, had she not recognised the stranger beside her who did, unfortunately, try.

"I didn't take ya for a vodka-and-coke drinkin' woman."

That voice. Deep, gruff, heavy.

John Price.

"I don't wanna talk." Spat Ruth.

Clean, cut, and straight to the point. The truth was, she hadn't come to the pub for chatter with a man like him. His words squirmed through her mind like the fall-out from a bad ear infection, and she despised another set of his words compounding the agony.

"Thought I'd thank ya." His lips smacked in the plenary of an awkward moment. "For bein' so professional and giving the case up, that is."

The case. The case files. They were still in her home. On her piano stand, where she'd also placed her unfinished glass of wine that was probably brewing with a layer of dust, now. And here was John Price, right beside her, shoulders occupying the air made for two. Maybe he knew. Maybe he knew she had taken the case files (or at least taken copies of them, at least), and he was there to confront her about it with every inch of his brooding six-foot stature.

"S'that it?" Questioned Ruth. 

"Sure." He nodded, flexing his chest with a gruff groan. "Wanted a bit of conversation, that's all. One investigator to another."

"Sorry." She huffed, fingertips turning wrinkled from the condensation on the outside of her glass. She still hadn't touched it, not in five minutes. Not since John sat down beside her. "Guess m'not in the mood tonight."

"Fair enough." He sniffed, palm running along the wood grain of the bar top. "I'll leave you be, then."

The thought was swift to occur - alarmingly so, even - as John stepped from the bar stool, his head still firmly aligned with hers on the vertical. And the thought was, in no fewer words than some:

"What's gonna happen with the case?" 

It made John come to a standstill. In the few seconds following, he paused, pondered, and pivoted himself back towards her. His shoes were already pointing in her direction, that, they both could see, but he had since adjusted the tilt of his shoulders so that his eyes could more easily glide over her face. Ruth looked back at him, pupils bloated, a worried knot niggling her brow. 

Neither knew what the other was thinking.

And neither, for a rather long time, said anything.

Until John, being the bigger - albeit only - man, grumbled;

"It'll get sorted, Wyatt."

And, after that very sentence, Ruth could only think of one thing. It plagued her every thought, caused an even larger kink to dig into her brow, and sent another queue of thoughts to sit pending as the current wasted away behind her eye sockets. And the thought was, of all possible thoughts;

If she had stolen his brachiosaurus, it was a bloody massive one.

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[definedbydaylight]

“It’ll Be The Last Time” - Matty Healy x F!Reader

Part 1:

Masterlist: .°˖✧ Word Count: 1575 Warnings: honestly don't really know what to put? smoking i guess? arguing? idk

Series Summary: “You’ve known Matty since you were 14 and the boy has never failed to get on your last nerve, but over the years you two end up having unexplainable moments where you can’t help but feel you two are connected in a way you’ll never feel with anyone else, until one night he tells you something that may change how you view the boy forever…”

Late Summer 2010:

"I'm in love with you."

You want to scream at him. You want to hit him, you'd use being scared as your excuse for not doing so, but you know that's not true, he'd never do anything to hurt you.

At least not physically.

"Don't." Is the only word that your mouth can make out.

"June Bug please..." It's been months since he'd last called you that, months since he's last called you anything at all.

2003-2005:

You first met Matty at your best friends 14th birthday party, he had tagged along with Ross who the birthday girl had been going out with for the last few months, well if you count awkward glances in school halls and AOL chat messages as going out, but they were only in year 9 cut them some slack.

Kelsey has been your best mate since you were 4, met in daycare and haven't left each others side since, people often joked that you two were joined at the hip. Ross greets her with a hug and not even blackout curtains could hide the bright red blush that took over your friend's whole face, afterwards Matty steps forward and introduces himself to you both, even at 14 he exuded a cocky self-confidence that put you off immediately. To say you and Matty didn't get along would be an understatement, being Kelsey's best friend had gotten you roped into Ross's friend group against your own will. You adored Ross obviously, grateful for the way he treated your friend so well, Adam was always quiet but kind and unbelievably hilarious at times, you'd always fancied George a little bit, thought he was quite fit and was nothing short of amazing with you... Matty on the other hand was a whole 'nother story.

Matty was always getting on your nerves, you served one purpose to him, to be the main target of his relentless teasing and rude comments. From ages 14-16 you were convinced Matty genuinely hated you, and you hated him right back. It wasn't until George asked you to a school dance in year 11 that you started to see a different side to Matty. The whole week leading up to the dance Matty had been unusually reserved with his snide comments, silence filled the gaps after you spoke when you know he'd usually tease you. At first you'd thought George might have finally told him to lay off a little, which seemed like it'd be a nice sentiment, but you found yourself oddly missing the only version of Matty that you'd ever known.

You knew Matty and you had always been eerily similar in certain ways, you both found solace in song writing and had a penchant for smoking.

The day of the dance had come and all of the boys were waiting downstairs in Kelsey's living room whilst she and you finished getting ready in her room, you thought your best friend couldn't look more beautiful. She wore a long red satin dress and had her hair pulled into a perfectly messy side braid, she had opted to go greet the boys whilst you finished up. You checked yourself in the mirror after she left, Kelsey had done your hair in big loose curls and you'd picked out a strapless iridescent green dress, you touched up your lipstick one last time before grabbing your clutch and exiting her room. As you descended down the stairs both George and Matty stopped their conversation and watched you in silence, you reached the ground floor and stopped right before George, looking up at him shyly.

"You look stunning." Your date was the first to speak up, you smile as you feel your cheeks flush.

"You look like a June Bug." Matty scoffs eyeing you up and down, you shoot him a glare and Adam smacks him up the backside of his head.

You all make your way out to Matty's van, George's hand never left your waist and you swear you could physically feel the heat on you skin from Matty's stare. The dance was as good as a school dance could be, you danced with George for the first while before excusing yourself for a moment, you'd never really liked to be in the middle of large crowds and you could feel the need for a smoke growing since you'd entered the hall. You walk out to your usual smoke spot only to find someone else occupying the space, you sigh.

"Fuck me." You say to yourself.

"Don't sound too excited to see me June Bug." Matty quips sarcastically, a fag hanging from his lips.

You lean against the brick wall beside him, pulling out your own smokes from the small clutch you'd brought with you and lighting one up before you spoke again.

"Weirdly nice to see you're back to your usual asshole demeanor." You laugh, taking another drag.

"What you on about?" He asks, turning to look at you.

"Nothing really, you've just been uncomfortably quiet around me this past week." You say not turning to him quite yet as you bring the fag back up to your lips.

"Don't know what you're talking about." He turns away from you and it's now that you look at him.

"Thought George might have told you off about it." You laugh again, a breeze blows past as he looks at you again through the smoke in your eyes.

"And you think George cares enough about you to do that?" It's his turn to laugh. "Thinks he'll get a good shag out of you that's for sure though."

His eyes meet yours and he can practically see the gears turning in your head as you process his comment.

"You don't know shit Matthew." You know how much he hates the use of his full name so you make sure to emphasize it.

"Actually I know everything dear, he's my best mate so if we're having a battle of who knows George's intentions best," He pauses, taking another drag. "I win." He finishes with a smirk.

"Jesus Christ! You've always got to be the biggest wanker don't you?" You roll your eyes at him. "Lord forbid a boy actually like me right?"

"Just telling you the truth love." He leans in close to you as he speaks, a twinkle of something you can't quite place in his eyes, his breath smells like a mixture of smoke and Apple Sourz.

"Fuck you, like genuinely go fuck yourself." You begin to walk away but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

"Hey! I'm not the one you should be saying that to right now, I'm just looking out for you here." Matty tries to defend himself.

"Looking out for me? Shitting on your best mate? You really expect me to believe that bullshit after the way you've treated me these past 2 years?!" You're proper mad now.

"I am always looking out for you!" He yells back.

You laugh in his face. "Name one fucking time you've had my best interest in mind Matthew, please enlighten me!"

His stare is cold and unnerving. "Last year at Josh's Halloween party I found you pasted out in the spare room with Will Evans attempting to undress you." He pauses to take a breath, the air thick with tension after he spoke. "Ripped him off of you and gave him a mean right hook without a second thought. Stayed by your side until I had sobered up enough to drive you and Kels back to her place."

You barely remember anything from that night past doing shots with Ross and waking up in Kelsey's bed with a killer migraine, Matty must have carried you all the way in and up the stairs.

"What?" You manage to choke out the one word.

"God you're so daft, just cause I'm an ass doesn't mean I don't care." You still at his words. "I've always cared about you June Bug." A small smirk crosses his lips.

"Oh god that's going to stick isn't it?" You let out a small laugh, still dwelling on the story he'd just told you.

Your eyes meet his again, both your smokes dropped and forgotten about on the ground.

"I thought you hated me." You confess quietly.

You feel his hand on your cheek before he speaks again. "I could never hate you y/n."

Before you can respond his lips are on yours... you should push him off, you should pull away and head back to George who you'd left waiting for you inside, George who is Matty's best mate. But there's something in the kiss that leaves you unable to think clearly, your hands reach for his neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips as you take a quick breath. You can't help but tug on the curls at the base of his neck, the slight moan he lets out in response is what finally snaps you out of your daze and back to reality. You pull away from him, your eyes wide staring at the boy before you, you blink a few times as the shock finally settles in. You pull away fully and begin to quickly walk away from him without another word, back into the dance... back to George.

"Y/N!" You hear him shout behind you, but you just keep walking with one thought raving through your mind.

Matty Healy just kissed you.

Part 2

a/n: well here's the first part of this story, i haven't put out a fully worded fanfic in years, i've def written them just haven't shared them with the public haha! well hope you enjoyed and didn't think this was too shit! loves xx

[such-a-barbarian]

w e e k l y t a g w e d n e s d a y

thanks for the tag @mybrainismelted!

which character from any media would you like to have as a father?: I don't know man, my dad is pretty kickass. Even if I could pick a new one I'd still choose my dad. But, if I have to pick, maybe Keith Mars. He seems like a cool dude and I totally want to be PI with him.

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have? Ethics and safety also not issues? Then a tiger - obviously I want a giant cat to cuddle me on the couch.

what is your Chinese takeout order?: My city has a Chinese place that is famous for its egg rolls. I actually have no idea if they are famous outside of my town, but they do ship them frozen across the province. All that to say is they are very good and for sure on my order. Also generally anyone of the following: lemon chicken, general tao chicken, veggies chow mein, beef and broccoli, and fried rice

what's your favourite emoji?: I am peak millennial so obviously, it's 😂

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?: Greenhouse for sure. Ian and I are growing all the tomatoes year-round! haha

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?: Oh man, I know it asks for only one, but there are so many good Canadian shows that hold such a special place in my heart! Mr. Dressup, Fred Penner's Place, Polka Dot Door, The Elephant Show, Under the Umbrella Tree, The Big Comfy Couch, and the most wonderfully bizarre and crazy Today's Special.

what was your tumblr like when you first joined?: It sat blank for probably a year before I posted anything. I'm actually kinda surprised I'm not blocked by a bunch of you thinking I was a bot...

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?: I was for sure a hippy in another life.

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?: I have no idea, maybe hogwarts?

what is your favourite piece of art?: Not sure I really have one, but I did have a very unexpected visceral reaction to seeing A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat in person. So maybe that 🤷🏻‍♀️

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?: do I own water bottles? yes. Do I have one that I use regularly and is dedicated to me? no. We have family nalgenes.

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave?: Only one bed. Will read every time.

do you carry a daily bag? Just my clutch wallet if I'm solo. I've got a diaper bag backpack that is 95% snacks if I'm with the kids.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?: no.

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?: A/B/O fics. I didn't read any for the longest time. Didn't really think it was my thing and then M8TE sucked me in and I haven't looked back.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?: Over the shoulder like in season 4? Probably not. But like a piggyback? yeah, probably for a little bit.

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?: Agree with @mybrainismelted they for sure steal it from each other whenever they visit each other.

Let's see I'll tag @jrooc, @krystallouwho, @juliakayyy, @francesroserecs, @bawlbrayker. @callivich, @iansfreckles, @iansw0rld, @lupeloto, @tanktopgallavich, @transmickey, and @zutaralesbian

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

Instead of scrambling at night to try and finish my prompt for the day, I decide to attempt it first thing in the morning. I hope this one came out a bit better! I was smiling to myself while working on it. Thank you so much again to everyone who has been so lovely and supportive of this little adventure! I can't believe we're two weeks in, and almost halfway through it and I haven't missed a day or given up yet 😂

14. Old bookstore on a cold day

The warm and comforting, yet musty smell of dust and old paper tickled his cold nose as he looked through the shelves. Books, their covers worn, some with age and some with love, their pages yellowing, were piled higher than he was tall, an impressive feat when considering his six foot four frame. The stacks covered every available surface, titles spilling out of the displays with no discernible order. He felt overwhelmed, unsure of where to begin as he spun in a small circle, looking for any titles or authors he recognized. He knew he wasn’t the biggest reader, but he listened when Matty spoke with bright eyes and sweeping hand gestures as he grew more and more excited about whatever book he had most recently picked up. 

George gritted his teeth and continued deeper into the shop, wrapping his arms around himself against the chill he couldn’t seem to shake, even as he ventured deeper amongst the stacks. The exposed yellow bulbs hanging from the ceiling reminding George of the warm tones used in movies to depict a summer day, as if it wasn’t snowing outside, his boots having left wet footprints on the mat as he stomped his feet, trying to dislodge the icey powder lest he track it inside with him. 

He could see why Matty liked the little old used bookstore, tucked away on a side street that George would never have even noticed if Matty hadn’t mentioned it before. 

“Can I help you find something this evening?” a voice asked and George spun around in surprise, coming face to face with an older gentleman, his gray hair spilling down past his rounded shoulders as he leaned heavily on his cane. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t have been alone in the shop, there had to have been someone working, but the clerk’s sudden appearance was still a shock. He swallowed hard. 

“I’m em, looking for a gift,” he said, “for a friend,” he winced, friend didn’t seem like a strong enough, like a powerful enough word to describe what Matty was to him. He was George’s best friend, but he was more than that. He was his soulmate, his other half, his partner, even if Matty might not fully understand the depth of George’s feelings yet, even if George didn’t fully understand them himself. 

“Dark curly hair, about yea tall, big glasses?” asked the man with a smile describing Matty perfectly. George flushed, and nodded the man grinning back with a sparkle in his eye. George wondered how he knew that. 

“I have the perfect thing,” he said, disappearing behind a stack of books and reappearing a moment later with a worn hardcover. 

He handed it to George who flipped through the pages, the dust jacket was missing but the title and author were embossed onto the side. On the Road by Jack Kerouac.

“It’s a first edition,” said the man, “it will make a phenomenal gift for your friend, it will really show him how much you care.” 

“How much is it?” George asked carefully, dread pooling in his stomach at the realization the book, while worn, if it was a first edition was most likely out of his meager budget. 

“It’s on the house,” said the man smiling, “just make sure that lad knows he’s loved.” 

George swallowed hard, not sure what to say as he ran his fingers over a smudged inscription on the first page.

“Are you sure?” He asked carefully and the man nodded. 

“He’s supposed to have that book.” he said sagely and George nodded, closing the book with the inscription still burnt into his retinas.

1 June, The 1975.

The 1975. 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

[sodascherrycola]

Lucky Patrick Curtis (Teen: 1975-1981)

DOB: November 11th 1962 Age: 62 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Luck, Luke S/O: Nicole Alderman Kids: Sarah, Vincent, and Xavier Best Friend(s): Dennis Morrison and John Delve Aesthetic: Lucky was a pretty wild child. He had his father’s energy and optimism that Sarah loved so. His parents were extremely young when he was born, 14 years old, and it was difficult to grow up along side them. Lucky would tag along with his mama when she went to school (something she dreaded) and eventually to work once she graduated. Sodapop didn’t want her to drop out like he had, wanted to see her make something of herself. Sarah Jane did not want to stay, stating that if he was dropping out to support the family, so could she. She didn’t drop out. Lucky was the only child for 4 years and when his little sister Magnolia was born, it was safe to say he was in love. He followed her and their mother around daily, wanted to help in anyway he could. Lucky was a good, kind hearted boy all away around. When he was in high school, he became the popular guy. Luck was always going to parties and getting wasted on the weekend with the boys. It stressed his mother out to no degree, but he always knew how to charm his way out of trouble. When he was 16 he got his now wife pregnant. His parents chewed him out, expecting him to learn from their “mistake”. When his little girl, Sarah, was born he turned his life around. He was beginning to get good grades, got back into the graces with his teachers and coaches. He became a big New York lawyer later on, total 80s wall street yuppie.

Magnolia Anne Curtis (Teen: 1979-1985)

DOB: February 19th 1966 Age: 58 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Mag, Maggie S/O: Alec Vaughn Kids: Anneliese and George Best Friend(s): Carrie Workington, Louisa May, and Sofia Palome Aesthetic: Magnolia was always seen as super mature for her age. It may be due to her young parents, or her father’s enlistment, or her older brother’s advice instilled. No one knows where it came from, definitely not her parents. She was very smart and even skipped a couple grades. It was her father’s job to help with homework while her mother cooked dinner. A lot of nights crying at the table, not from her though. Magnolia used to distance herself from her family. She was very independent and never wanted help from her parents. It didn’t help that she resented her parents from being so young. The kids in her grade would whisper about her, that she was weird, a shotgun baby. She despised her parents. Sarah Jane constantly tried to talk to her baby about this, but it was difficult to get anything out of Maggie. Stubborn as a nail she was. Soda began taking his girl out for daddy daughter dinners, which consisted of strawberry ice cream and McDonald's burgers. His wife wasn’t even upset of these outings, praying that it would work. Magnolia eventually opened up on one of those daddy daughter dates. Maggie cried, Soda cried, and even Sarah did when she got the re-telling at bedtime. It worked though, and Maggie grew closer to her parents and siblings. She even still goes out with her daddy for dinners every Thursday.

Forrest David Curtis (Teen: 1982-1988)

DOB: February 9th 1969 Age: 55 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Woody S/O: Natalie Berryman Kids: Oliver and Aurora Best Friend(s): Isaac Brooks Aesthetic: Forrest was a very easy baby. He rarely cried and was easily as good if his older brother was there in the room with him. He was obsessed with Lucky, thought he hung the moon. When he was in high school, he became friends with Isaac Brooks, and became involved in some not good things. He started smoking with him after school and whenever he could. His father once caught him and asked for a hit, but told him that he wouldn’t tell his mother. Woody thought that his dad would lose his mind over the recreational drug use, being a veteran and all that, but no. Sodapop told him that he used to smoke this stuff in the war, to “relax”. It became a regular thing for the two. Going out every couple of nights to smoke on the porch or in a random parking lot (do not smoke and drive!) and simply just talk about everything and anything. This was their bonding experience. He won two tickets to a pearl jam concert when he was seventeen and the first person he asked was his dad. They went and came back reeking of the drug and Sarah Jane had grounded them both, how she grounded her own husband, no one knows. Woody and Sodapop were each others best friends.

Romeo Preston Curtis (Teen: 1985-1991)

DOB: December 31st 1972 Age: 52 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Ro, Rome, Romey S/O: Rachel Carter Kids: Cassandra and Dylan Best Friend(s): Joseph Matthews and Aaron Curtis Aesthetic: Romeo was extremely quiet. He barely spoke, in fact didn’t speak one word until he was two years old. His first word was “no lux” when his older brother, Lucky, was tickling him to no ends. Romey was as shy as they come, Soda found him so hard to understand his young son, being certainly eccentric and outgoing himself. He loved his birthday, he got extra presents (as much as his parents could afford) and he got to be cocky to his siblings. He was his mother’s favourite, adoring her quiet Christmas present. He reminded her so much if Sodapop, not exactly with his personality, but his attitude and looks. He was very handsome and very polite and respectful to others, something Sarah Jane admired in both her boys. One Thanksgiving, Soda’s family came over and as the women were cooking dinner and gossiping, the boys were playing tackle football in the yard. Rome watched from the kitchen window with his mother until his Aunt Katherine encouraged him to join the brother’s outside. Romeo learned how to play football with his dads and uncles and quickly became involved with the sport on school teams. His family went to every game until he decided to change over to lacrosse instead. He excelled at lacrosse much more than he ever did football. He was very popular with the girls, but he didn’t notice it. He was overall a very polite and athletic kid.

Charity Dove Curtis (Teen: 1987-1993)

DOB: July 7th 1974 Age: 50 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Char, Love, Lovie S/O: Damien Sinclair Kids: Ashley, Eric, and Loren Best Friend(s): James Winston Aesthetic: Charity was the IT girl in school. She was very proud of who she was the minute she was born. It didn’t help her ego that her daddy worshipped the ground she walked on, gave her everything imaginable. She was a cheerful and loving young girl, wearing the best dresses her mother could make with old scrap fabric. Charity Curtis was the best dressed girl in all of McAlester and everyone knew it. She loved performing in local beauty contests and was a debutante when she was 15. Her southern accent increased her charm, many people admiring this toddler with the heaviest accent in all off the south. Sometimes she talked too fast and it was hard to understand what exactly she was saying, all her words mumbled together. Her special talent was and will always be her cheerleading. She was captain of her cheerleading squad in high school (just like Sarah Jane mind you) and was her team’s fly girl. She later went on to win many more championships and beauty competitions, earning her the spot of Miss Southern, Miss U.S.A, AND Miss Universe respectively. Her parents couldn’t be more proud of their gorgeous sweet daughter. When she met Damien, it was love at first sight. Her daddy was sceptical of him, but when was he not? He just wanted to protect his little girl from the harm of the outside world, and that included boys. The two actually grew to like each other, but Soda would never admit to that.

Prayer Thomas Curtis (Teen: 1990-1996)

DOB: May 18th 1977 Age: 47 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Pray, PT S/O: Sophie Anderson Kids: Ryan, Ethan, and Brady Best Friend(s): Brandon Winston and Shawn Curtis Aesthetic: Prayer was a very helpful kid. He always offered to help his mother win any housework that needed to be done. Prayer was his parents go to babysitter per his own request. He love his little siblings and cousins and decided that if his parents or aunt needs a little help, why couldn’t he? Prayer would also walk his dad’s lunch to the garage on his way to school if his father forgot to pick it up before leaving for work. Sometimes Sodapop would let his son stay a little longer to talk to customers and encourage him to actually engage with the work itself. Prayer loved PB&J’s, he would eat it for every meal every day if his mother would allow him. When he was a teenager his mom told him that he was old enough to do his own chores like his older siblings and one of his chores was packing his own lunches. Every lunch was a PB&J. Every. Single. One. Maybe a side of lays and a soda. He ate terribly growing up but still stayed very fit, probably from all the running around he did, clearly from all the sugar that was in his sandwiches each day.

Cola Robert Curtis (Teen: 1993-1999)

DOB: January 23rd 1980 Age: 44 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Cole, Coley S/O: Amelia Boone Kids: Benson, Louis, and Elijah Best Friend(s): Kyle Randle Aesthetic: Cola hated his name. He knew that his family was known for their ridiculous names, but he thought he had the absolute worst of them all. Cola. How stupid is that he thought. He refused to be called Cola outside of his house (or even in it for that matter) only Cole was allowed. Cole was embarrassed by his name, his family, and his money. They weren’t exactly poor, but they weren’t rich by any means. He was very preppy and popular in high school, being on the football team and being an honour’s roll student throughout his academic career. Cole tried his damn best to separate himself from the rest of his family. His mother understood where he was coming from to an extent, in a way that his optimistic father could never. She knew how he could feel embarrassed by their finances and names. She knew she named her children uncommon and unique names, it was done on purpose, for her husband’s sake. She knew that when her and Soda got married, they were so in love she couldn’t tell that they were poor. Not until she ran into some old soc friends and they buried her alive with her new status in the world. Cole never truly recovered from the embarrassment and bullying he went through in his childhood, still tried to block out his past and family to the rest of the world.

Angel Love Curtis (Teen: 1993-1999)

DOB: January 23rd 1980 Age: 44 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Ange, Angie, Lovie S/O: Paul Mercante Kids: Daniela, Isabel, Ellie, and Rosalie Best Friend(s): Francesca Bough Aesthetic: Angel was a beautiful girl and she knew it. Much like her older sister, Charity, she was told often times told how gorgeous she truly was. Angie started modelling in 1992 when she was 12 years old. By the time she was 17 years old, she was booking jobs with Tommy Hilfiger, Guess, and Michael Kors. She had met Paul Mercante in kindergarten and he was her first boyfriend if you will. She started having play dates with him and best believe Soda and Steve had a field day trying to figure out this 5 year old boy. He took her to their first school dance in middle school and he ended up dancing with Rachel Burnes and Angel had come home sobbing. Her twin brother, Cole, was ready to punch a kid out. It was actually Sodapop who had been the one to talk the boy down while his wife was upstairs with his other daughters calming his youngest daughter. They got back together in 11th grade and ended up getting married when she was 22 years old. Angel, at her best, was modelling for Givenchy, Dior, Dolce & Gabbana, and was even the spokesperson for Chanel. She got so famous and so excited that she had bought her parents a house when she was 25 years old.

Valentine Waylon Curtis (Teen: 1996-2002)

DOB: February 14th 1983 Age: 41 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Val, Valey S/O: Aimee Bowen Kids: Camren, Aidan, Alyssa, and Hailee Best Friend(s): Ethan Cade and Matthew Winston Aesthetic: Valentine , being the second youngest, was very funny. He learned that he was never going to be as smart as Cola or Lucky and that he was never going to be as handsome as Prayer or Romeo. He decided to be the funny one. He knew how to make people laugh, had an interesting way of making conversation and storytelling. He could talk for hours and hours on end. He was always very cheerful this one. Val hated seeing anyone upset, it hurt him deep down to find a person crying especially his own family. Valentine was very good with his younger brother Blessing. Blessing was a whey baby, crying every 5 minutes, and it bothered his mama, which in turn bothered him. Val would run to his room, pick out the most ridiculous outfit and prance around in front of his baby brother's playpen until he would giggle. Growing up, he was always compared to his Uncle Two, people reminding him that he was funny and handsome, a new word used to describe him. As he entered middle school, he noticed that he might actually be attractive. Val didn't realise his beauty. He believed that he was the most homely looking out of all his brothers, but his mama always noted his relationship to his father, THE Sodapop Curtis. Girls then started to flock to him, but because of his inner insecurities, he never knew how to talk to them. He could make all the jokes he wanted, make a fool of himself, they would eventually turn the other way because they thought him weird. Val turned to his father for advice, which didn't work due to the massive age gap. There was one last option if Valentine would ever want a wife in the future…Prayer Curtis himself. He was embarrassed to ask for help, but Prayer was actually pretty chill about it. After the advice he received from his older brother, he started seeing Aimee Bowen and the rest was history.

Blessing River Curtis (Teen: 1998-2004)

DOB: August 20th 1985 Age: 39 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Bless, B, Riv S/O: Casey Moss Kids: Connor and Bailey Best Friend(s): Erick Bishop, Kevin Parrish, and Clayton Ibarra Aesthetic: Blessing was exactly what his name says. His parents were told, due to their age, that they couldn't have children anymore. The two were okay with this, thinking they were done 4 children ago anyway. Sarah Jane, the woman she is, believed that God has a plan for everyone, and that all of her children are miracles in their own right. When she fell pregnant for the 9th time in 1984, she knew this was a sign from God. It was a tough and terrible pregnancy for the whole family involved. In fact, Katherine Curtis ended up making her way down to McAlester to help her younger sister-in-law through the journey of it all. When her son was born, she had already had his named picked out from the beginning, whether he be a boy or a girl. Blessing was her baby's name. This name, he hated. When he was in grade school, his name was brought up in many bullies conversations and teasings. Blessing was a girl's name and a weird one at that. Blessing became very isolated with everyone. He started going by River because River Phoenix made it cool somewhat. As he got older he was just used to being called Riv or River. That was until Casey Moss came up to him in history class and said "Blessing Curtis, right?". He almost had a heart attack. This when he got comfortable being referred to as Blessing. Yes, people still made fun of him, but it didn't matter anymore. Casey Moss knew his name. Sarah was ecstatic when she met the girl that made her come out of his shell. She was planning their wedding before the two even admitted their love for each other. Blessing was very athletic, finding himself juggling Football, Baseball, AND lacrosse all at once one school year. He got scouted in 2002, and he got a full ride scholarship to Colombia University on Football.

[longclawislightbringer]

Chapter One: Unworthy

Rating: T

Relationships: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Summary: College Freshman Chrissy Cunningham’s best friend, Eddie, is a rockstar. So what if she’s in love with him, and he’s writing gorgeous metal love songs for some cool chick in LA? She’ll still be his number one fan, supporting from the sidelines, even if that means breaking her own heart.

On the night before the band’s first show opening for Metallica—at which Chrissy plans to surprise them—her roommate shows her an interview in the latest issue of Rolling Stone that changes everything.

Hello lovely readers! This is my first foray into Hellcheer, although if you are an author you may have seen me lurking in your comments section. I also kind of jump around fandoms depending on where my muse takes me, so you may have seen me somewhere else before. I’ve been obsessed with Hellcheer since I watched the first episode of Season 4 last year, and had the idea for this last summer. Unfortunately, I’m the world’s slowest writer. Like George R.R. Martin levels of slow. It also doesn’t help that I’m a bit of a perfectionist. I’m trying to let go of my perfectionism and just be happy to get my writing out in the world. This is a short little story, only two chapters. The next part is already written so it should be posted by next week. I’d just like to take a moment now to thank my beta, ry, for looking over this for me. Ry is super awesome and you can find her at ryleighjosephine on AO3 or at @dustinswill on Tumblr. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks for reading. :)

read on AO3

Chrissy tapped her foot to the beat of “Uptown Girl” as she grabbed a clean index card from the perfect stack at the edge of her desk. Dancing in her chair, she turned up the volume on her Walkman as the song reached the chorus. Softly humming, Chrissy wrote out “mitochondria” in big, blocky letters with her favorite rollerball pen. She bobbed her head as she waited for the ink to dry, checking Professor Miller’s study sheet to make sure she remembered the correct definition. Once she finished her list of vocab terms, she could start working on her poster for the concert tomorrow.

“As long as anyone with hot blood can,” Chrissy belted out without a care for any of the other girls still left on her floor on a Friday night. Even if her roommate, Stacey, was home, she wouldn’t care anyway. “And now she’s looking for a downtown man. That’s what I am!”

Although she would tease Chrissy for listening to Billy Joel.

When the pink ink had dried, she flipped the card over. As she wrote down the function of the mitochondria, she heard Professor Miller in her head, repeating, “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

Placing the finished flashcard on her stack, she snatched another blank card as Billy Joel’s vocals faded into the searing electric guitar of Corroded Coffin’s new single. Her heart skipped a beat as Eddie’s fingers danced across the strings. She stilled, placing her pen on the table before she broke it.

“Starlit eyes, cherry gloss lips. You are perfect,” Eddie sang on the track, voice raspy. “And I am unworthy of you.” Chrissy clenched her fists. It was Eddie’s only line in the song before Jeff took over lead vocals. Chrissy could listen to him sing for hours, though.

She fiddled with the cassette case, running her fingers over the label “Chrissy’s Mix” in Eddie’s chicken scratch as she glanced at the photo of them together at prom last year tacked to her bulletin board. Arms circling her waist, Eddie stared down at her. The pink rose corsage on her wrist matched his boutonniere, and his tie matched her dress—Eddie insisted, even if it wasn’t an actual date.

When he sat down at their booth in the diner to give it to her one day while he was visiting Hawkins before she left for college, his leg had bounced up and down like he had drunk too much coffee. He dropped the tape in between them, the liner notes facing up.

“What’s this?” Chrissy asked, pulling it to her side of the table.

“It’s a mixtape,” Eddie said.

“I know that,” Chrissy smirked. “But what’s it for?”

Eddie wiped his hand on his leg. “It’s got some of our new songs on it. The demos, at least.”

“No way!” She exclaimed, picking it off the table to scan the notes. Three of the songs listed Corroded Coffin as the artist.

“I want you to tell me what you think of them. No holding back.”

“Of course.” Chrissy winked. “I wouldn’t dare think of lying to you. What’s the rest?”

“Just a bunch of your favorite songs. And mine. I thought they all kind of fit together.” Eddie scratched the back of his neck and flashed her a shy smile.

“Cool.” Grinning, Chrissy pulled her Walkman from her backpack.

“Don’t listen to it now!” Eddie nearly leaped across the table. “Wait until I’m gone.”

“Alright,” Chrissy smirked. “I’ll wait.”

At home that night, Chrissy shoved the tape into her Walkman and eagerly awaited the first new song. She grinned from ear to ear as the first base notes ripped through her, followed by Eddie’s dazzling guitar work.

And then that line.

“You are perfect, and I am unworthy of you.”

Her stomach dropped. A love song. Corroded Coffin had never released a love song before. Tightness bloomed across her chest as her stomach twisted itself in knots. She twisted her ring (Eddie’s favorite that he’d given to her right after graduation) and bit her lip as the song continued. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes when she listened to the other new songs—also love songs.

“Did you write all of these songs, Eddie?” she quavered, her voice small, on their scheduled weekly call.

“Yeah,” he answered. The phone crackled. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

His voice hitched before he continued, “What did you think of them?”

She swallowed back her tears, her rage at the subject of the songs, and replied, “They’re beautiful, Eddie.”

The cassette case clattered to the desk, breaking her from her reverie.

A tear rolled down her cheek as the song crested into the melancholy guitar solo. She wiped it away. With one final crescendo, the chorus began for the last time.

Chrissy picked up her pen again. If she ever found the girl who made Eddie feel so—

The door to her dorm room banged open.

“Hey, Chrissy,” her roommate Stacey barged in, letting the door slam shut behind her. She flopped on the bed across from Chrissy with a sigh, her long black braids fanning beneath her like a halo.

Chrissy paused her Walkman as “Take a Chance on Me” started and removed her headphones. “How was your date?”

“Another dud, as usual,” Stacey groaned. “I don’t know what it is about me that seems to attract the worst types of men. “ She rolled onto her stomach and rummaged through her purse. “He didn’t even have the manners to give me a decent good night kiss. Just slobbered all over me.” Shivering, she took out her lipstick for the night, a bright berry red, and placed it back on the shelf next to her desk. “Such is my lot in life.” She looked over at Chrissy. “What about you, Cunningham? Are you still hung up on that guy who calls you every week and wrote multiple songs for another woman that he put on your mixtape?”

A flush crept over Chrissy’s face. “He just wanted my honest opinion.”

“Girl, if that man can’t see that you are head over heels for him, he’s as blind as a bat.” Stacey pulled some wadded-up tissues from her purse and tossed them in the garbage. She grabbed a fresh one from the box on her nightstand and wiped her lipstick off, smearing it all over her dark skin.

“It’s not like that,” Chrissy protested, driving her pen perhaps a little too hard into the index card as she wrote the following definition. “We’re just friends.” Stacey folded the tissue, removed the rest of the lipstick from her face and dropped it in the trash.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Stacey quipped, pulling the new issue of Rolling Stone from her bag. “I can’t believe you’re studying on a Friday night.”

“I have to study today,” Chrissy explained as she tossed the card to the side. “We’re going to the Metallica concert tomorrow. I’ve got cheer practice Sunday afternoon, and my club meets Sunday nights.”

Chrissy scribbled out another word from her vocab list on a fresh card.

“Right,” Stacey rolled onto her stomach and unfolded the magazine. “I forgot you have your nerd club.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “I still think you would like it. You could pretend to be one of those barbarians from those Conan movies you’re always going on about.”

“Speaking of the concert tomorrow,” Stacey flipped the page of the magazine, “one of the opening bands has an interview in Rolling Stone.”

“That’s cool,” Chrissy remarked without much thought. She froze, pen hovering above the desk, as she recalled that Eddie had mentioned that the band had done an interview with a big magazine during their Thursday phone call. She shook her head. It probably was the other opener—they were much more famous than Corroded Coffin. “Let me know if there’s anything interesting.”

“Will do,” Stacey nodded and turned her attention to the glossy pages on the bed in front of her. Comfortable silence blanketed the room, the only sound the scritch of pen on paper and the flipping of magazine pages until one of their noisy neighbors arrived back home. The slamming door next door and ensuing clatter, as the girl stumbled through the room, jolted Chrissy from her work. She shook her head and grabbed another index card from the pile.

“That’s so sweet!” Stacey cooed, stroking the magazine page.

“What’s sweet?” Chrissy asked without missing a beat.

“The guitarist from that band I mentioned earlier,” Stacey popped her bubblegum. “He writes their songs, and get this—they’re all about the same girl.”

“Hmm,” Chrissy sneered, driving the pen into the index card with a little more force than was necessary. “I’m sure she loves having such a wonderful boyfriend who writes her amazing love songs.”

“They’re not together,” Stacey corrects her, flipping the page.

Chrissy stills. “What do you mean they’re not together?”

“They’re apparently just friends even though he’s been in love with her since middle school. They performed in a talent show together, and he’s been stuck on her ever since.”

Her heart leaped into her throat.

“She gets all of their demo recordings before the public,” Stacey continued, eyes widening as she took in the photograph on the opposite page, “so she just must want to stay friends because if I was her and I had a friend that looked like that who wrote me beautiful love songs, I’d climb him like a tree and maybe—“

Stacey rambled on, but Chrissy couldn’t hear her over the hammering of her own heart, beating against her ribs like a wild bird against the bars of a cage.

“—you know, I never pictured rock stars being into cheerleaders,”

Time stops.

Chrissy’s pen clattered to the floor as she whipped around.

“—but what do I know. I mean, you’re a cheerleader, and you like metal,” Stacey blathered.

“Stacey,” Chrissy stammered, “which band are you talking about?”

“What?” Stacey finally noticed her. “Corroded Coffin, why?”

“Can I see that article?” Chrissy choked, holding back the deluge of tears.

“Sure,” Stacey quirked a brow and handed the magazine over.

Chrissy flipped the magazine open to find Eddie Munson staring up at her from the glossy page flanked by Gareth and the rest of the band. Gasping, she dropped the magazine onto her desk.

“I am an idiot,” she murmured, and a tear slipped out before she could stop it. It rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the magazine.

“Hey,” Stacey bolted upright. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m so happy,” Chrissy hiccuped as the waterfall she’d held back for months came crashing down.

Stacey furrowed her brows until she alighted on the graduation and prom photos tacked to Chrissy’s bulletin board. She jumped to her feet, her gaze darting back and forth between the photos and the magazine spread.

“Oh my god!” Stacey exclaimed. “You’re her. You’re the girl from the article.”

“Yep,” Chrissy nodded, wiping her tears with a tissue.

“Which means that the Eddie that calls you every week is a literal rock star who’s been in love with you for years?”

“Apparently,” Chrissy shrugged. She slumped over the desk. “I should have just asked him out months ago.”

“Wow,” Stacey collapsed back on her bed. “That is a lot to process. How in the world did I not put it together sooner? You told me he was in a band. And you made sure we were going to this show so I could meet him.”

“I wanted to surprise him on opening night of his first big tour…” Chrissy said.

”I just thought your Eddie must be a colossal CC fan.” Stacey mused. “To think you’ve know them this whole time… Wait a minute.” She bolted upright. “How did you not know all those songs were about you?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I convinced myself he met some cool metal chick in LA.” She picked at the hem of her shirt. “I was going to ask who she was at the show tomorrow.”

“This is too funny,” Stacey laughed.

“I’m glad you find my emotional turmoil amusing.”

“What are you going to do when you see him?” Stacey asked.

Chrissy turned to the blank poster and art supplies waiting on her bed and grinned.

“I’m going to get my man.”

[kayla-crazy-stuffs]

These aren't his best moments in his life (Surfer Dream pt 4)

I finished writing it :D

Here comes the 3rd incident

TW: Vore mention (doesn't happen), death mention (doesn't happen), blood and blood mention, serious injury

Little reminder (ages): George -> 24, Sapnap -> 21, Quackity -> 20 almost 21, Karl -> 20 and Dream -> 16 almost 17

It's been a few weeks since Dream's last incident with George. Karl had told him not to go to the beach, at least for a while so that he could recover a bit. In a few days, he was beginning to feel better, so he went for a walk around the city.

He bought some things, such as; a new wetsuit, since the other one that George had broken. He went to eat somewhere and after a few hours, he returned home. In the afternoon, he mentioned to Karl that he would go to the beach to walk along the shore and talk to Sapnap, if he appeared.

He walked for an hour and a half or so, deciding to go home, when suddenly something heavy pushed him against the sand, pressing on him so he couldn't move. “We meet again, human…” Dream shook in fear at the voice that sounded above him. “Did you really think I was going to leave you alone..? Well, in that case, you are very wrong…” said the brown-haired mer with a cruel smile.

The giant fingers of the mer curled around Dream's body,lifting him easily in front of his face. "Please... Let me go..." he said in a voice that was quite low because of fear. The mer only laughed at him,bringing him closer to his face. "I don't think I'm going to." he responded, this time opening his mouth to put the human inside it, when there was a scream a few meters away from them.

There was a girl standing at the entrance to the beach, which wasn't very big, her eyes wide with fear. Soon police cars began to appear, apparently the girl had called them when she saw that Dream was going to be eaten. George let out an annoyed growl and looked at the human in his hand one last time before tossing him roughly to his right, into an area of ​​very little water and littered with rocks.

Dream could only let out a small cry of fear before falling hard against the rocks, his head hitting one of them hard, knocking him completely unconscious. The policemen had quickly gone to help him, calling the ambulance. 

Meanwhile, the beach began to fill up with people who had been alerted by the screaming and sirens of the police. On the other hand, George had started to go back inside the water, when another mer appeared punching him in the face.

People were shocked to see one mer beating another. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, GEORGE!!? WHAT THE FUCK DID DREAM DO TO YOU FOR YOU TO DO THAT TO HIM?!” George looked with surprised eyes at Quackity. His brother was crying, he hadn't cried since the day he got the scar on his eye. The people were in shock, one mer was defending the person the other had attacked.

The ambulance was not long in arriving, approaching the unconscious young man. "Luckily he is still alive, but he is losing a lot of blood, so we must take him to the hospital immediately." Said one of the ambulance attendants, suddenly Karl arrived at the beach, alerted by all the noise and ran to the ambulance, crying as soon as he saw Dream unconscious. “Dream..!! What happened??!!" he asked the cops in a panic before looking around.

The ambulance couldn't wait any longer so it left immediately. Karl's eyes locked on Quackity and he moved towards him quickly. “Quackity…!!” Said mer moved closer to the shore, making the people back away a bit. His hands gently encircled Karl, allowing the human to weep into them. One of the police officers cautiously approached while the others told/forced people to leave saying that everything was over.

Quackity let Karl out of his 'embrace' when the cop got close enough to them. “Is everything okay officer..?” Karl asked. The policeman nodded firmly. “Do you know these mers?” asked the policeman. "Yeah, I know them but obviously I don't get along with him..." he said pointing at George. “Although I also know another one. They don't pose any danger, I promise, the ones I get along with at least, George seems to hate humans for some reason." George rolled his eyes at the mention, dismissing it.

"Okay... The young man will probably be at the hospital right now, do you want me to take you there?” George frowned at the word 'young', what does he mean by that? Karl turned for a moment to say goodbye to Quackity before following the policeman and getting into his car.

Once they were gone, Quackity looked back at George, the anger plain on his face. “Don't speak to me again until you've changed! How can you do that to someone, especially a 16 year old boy??!” The eyes of George widened in shock. The human was only 16…? He didn't look that young. “Quackity, bro-…” “Don't talk to me! And I'm not your brother!" he shouted at him, diving into the sea, leaving George alone.

What had he done…?

[curse-04]

Written for @hinnyfest

Prompt 18: Sharing a Sweater

A/N: This is a sequel to my Prompt 4 submission. It was the one with the locker room submission.

-------

Harry and Ginny were talking in very hushed tones about something, and Fred knew that this was more… intense, at least as far as their secrets went.

After the War, it was like Harry and Ginny were inseparable. Everyone had been in their own heads for quite a while, but even still, they all noticed Harry and Ginny getting closer and closer, and no one was surprised when Harry started calling her his best friend.

Fred and George had both wondered if there was more than friendship going on there, but neither had asked, mostly because Harry and Ginny seemed to go on many trips, in different parts of the world, and they seemed quite content after they came back.

But now wasn't the time to think of that, they had a prank to pull after all. Their latest invention, the Secrecy Sweater, was about to be tested on none other than their own family, and Fred and George couldn't wait for their reactions.

Honestly, it was a brilliant piece of Magic, inspired by that of a Secrecy Sensor. It would detect who in a room- except for the one(s) who activated it- had the biggest secret. And it wouldn't come off until the Secret was revealed, or until the Sweater was otherwise destroyed.

They waited until the end of dinner to set it off, though. While their Mum was okay with their Joke Shop, pranking anyone at Dinner was huge 'No!'

As they'd expected, a white mist swirled around the Dinner Table, much to everyone's alarm. Bill, Harry, and Ginny had even drawn their Wands out, trying to make a way through it, to no avail. The Mist was a mere illusion. He suspected they were trying to avoid getting Poisoned if the mist wasn't.

The mist suddenly went for Harry and Ginny, and they were trapped in a Get Along Sweater that said, "Secret Keepers,"

"What the actual Fuck?" Harry asked.

"Fred and George Weasley!" Ginny snarled at the same time, surprising everyone into silence. For a second Fred almost pissed himself, but he felt proud that he kept it in.

"You've got a big Secret you aren't telling us," George said with a smirk, pointing at the T-shirt.

Fred sighed tragically. "Oh, look how secretive they've gotten, George," he said, shaking his head. "They were such innocent children once."

"Tragic, really," George agreed, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Our little sister-"

"How are we getting out of this?" Ginny asked. "Do we have to fight you in this and win somehow? Or do you take bribes?"

"You have to tell your secret," Fred explained. He was certain it would be that they were dating, but he'd wait and see.

"We were about to do that now, anyway," Harry said, glaring at him.

"Well, then by all means, go ahead," George said, smirking at him.

"Maybe we don't want to now," Ginny said, trying to cross her arms, but failing. "Ugh!"

"I could set it on Fiendfyre if you want," Harry told her seriously.

"Hmm…" she trailed off in thought. "Yeah, alright, burn it away."

"WHAT!?" A lot of their family members exclaimed. Using Fiendfyre in a closed space only led to disasters. It was taught in Fourth Year DADA classes. How did they miss that?

"It's only fair," Harry explained, shrugging. "They trapped us in this sweater, I'll burn it to get us out."

"Technically, you trapped yourself," Ron pointed out.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but Ginny just waved him off. "Eh, semantics," she said.

"You could just tell us…" Mum suggested helpfully.

Harry cocked his head and turned to Ginny, both of them seemingly having a silent conversation before they both let out a frustrated breath and nodded.

"Alright," Harry started.

"We're engaged," Ginny finished.

The effect was instantaneous, Fred's eyes almost popped out of his head, and George nearly spat his drink out. Mum and Dad smiled a few moments later, Ron, Hermione and Percy had their jaws on the floor, and the rest of them just seemed confused.

"But, but," some of them spluttered.

The sweater, however, didn't move.

"It's only a prototype," George explained nervously at their livid looks. "There's a good chance it might not work as intended."

"So, what do we do now?" Harry asked Ginny a while later.

"Well… since it's a prototype, I do think we should test out how durable it is," Ginny suggested with an impish smile, causing Harry to smirk.

"That's a great idea!" George exclaimed as Fred nodded at him.

"In private, of course," Harry said, smirking wider.

"Wait, what?" George said as Harry and Ginny quickly said a goodbye and ran off, promptly disapparating when they were beyond the Wards. "I swear I didn't know that's what they were talking about."

"Fred, George," Ron said with a sigh. "You're both idiots, you know that?"

[whoami-24601]

International Incident Part 5

Part 1 Part 4

After the drivers decide that Lewis and Logan would do social media posts, Lewis calls Toto for an update. "Toto, what is going on? It's been almost three hours, man. This isn't ok. If we don't get out soon, we are going to come up with our own plan."

From the speakerphone, everyone could hear a gruff Toto say, "we haven't gotten much of an update either. Stefano and some of the FIA are negotiating with the representation of the country. The only thing we have been told is that they are not looking for money. We offered. They seem to want to make a spectacle out of this. They're unhappy with," Toto sighed, "a lot of things really."

"Like what?" Lewis was aware they needed to save cell phone battery, but it felt too important to cut the conversation short.

"Like," Toto hesitated, sounding exhausted, "all of it. Gay rights, women's rights, global warming, and our attempts at reducing carbon emissions. Something about a flag and sponsors, too. It just sounds like they want us to be stuck in the 50s or something. I have no idea how a race was even approved here." The drivers all started whispering amongst themselves with that admission. What were they going to do? Why was this being taken out on them?

"Money talks, Toto," Lewis responds. "We all know that. The big question is - what do they want us to do about it? Those things are much bigger than this one race here. We can't just pledge to set back humanity."

"No, no, we can't, and we won't. We need to figure out how to get you all out and get the hell out of here." Toto paused again to ask, "how is everyone doing?"

"Umm," Lewis surveyed the room. The duos and trios had started to separate again. The closeness during their planning session diminished as they heard Toto's comments. "I'm going to go with not great. Little water, no food, and we're basically on the edge of panic."

"I don't know what to suggest for you all but I will do my best to see if we can at least get you some food and water. Hopefully this ends soon."

"Yeah, ok, Toto, thanks for the update. I'm going to save battery again, so just call if you have an update. We may switch to someone else's phone after a while, but mine is still good for now. We'll text you if that changes." Toto had become the main contact since George and Lewis were part of the problem solving group, and they knew Toto would do everything in his power to get them out. The rest of the team principals were also aware that Toto was the only contact after the initial lock-in occurred.

Everyone settled back into their corners to call their loved ones. The problem solving team also found spaces they could speak somewhat privately, given everyone was stuck in a single room together.

As they walked very slowly back to their corner, Danny said, "well, I guess it's phone call time. Do we want to call one at a time? We can time the one person and provide support?" He turned to Max and Lando for their thoughts.

Max nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's good. I don't think I should call my dad, though. I'll call my mom and Victoria together." Daniel and Lando did not question the decision as they approached their former spot.

Daniel dropped himself down against the wall and opened his legs suggestively. "Anyone wanna come cuddle me?" His eyebrows jumped up and down as he surveyed the two men. Lando immediately blushed and shook his head no while Max seemed to contemplate the offer. "You in, Maxy?"

"Sure," Max answered nonchalantly, settling down between Daniel's legs and leaning casually against his chest. Lando stood with his mouth open at how easily Max had agreed.

Seeing Lando's reaction, Danny told him, "you missed your shot, Lan. Have to wait for the next time my legs are open!" He laughed at his own comment and opened his arm up for Lando to squish next to him, which he did without hesitation.

"Anyone want to call first?" Lando asked softly. He didn't want to call at all but knew it was the right thing to do.

"I will do it," Max said, pulling his phone out from his back pocket, awkwardly knocking against Daniel's legs.

Squeezing his legs back around Max's body once his arm was clear, Daniel teased, "Oh, Maxy," getting a chuckle in return.

While Max was turning his phone on, Lando rolled his eyes and debated about his own phone call. He knew he had to talk to his parents, but he also wished he could talk to his other friend Max. He debated what he needed to say, thinking back to Lewis' suggestions. His parents would absolutely know something was wrong if he just called to say he loved them, and if his dad figured out something was wrong and Lando wasn't telling him, he would get the information somehow. He had Zak's direct line after all. After a few minutes, Lando realized he hadn't been listening to Max. The call had started, and Lando tuned in to hear Max say, "you will be well taken care of if anything happens to me. I met with some lawyers to see to it." Lando raised an eyebrow and looked at Danny for his reaction. Danny was staring at his watch with an intense look on his face, nothing Lando wanted to interrupt. Once again, tuning back in, Lando heard Max say goodbye, and he loved them. Lando was also shocked to see the silent tears falling down his friend's face. He reached over, wrapped their arms together, and put his head on Max's shoulder.

"It is not a lie," Max answered the question Lando didn't ask. "I had lawyers draw up papers that most of my money and property goes to them if I die. I did it a long time ago, but I did not see the point in telling them before. They know racing is dangerous, and it did not seem important."

Daniel slipped an arm between Lando's body and arm so he could wrap both arms around Max. "You did good, Maxy. Your family is so proud of you." As an afterthought he added, "so am I." Max looked over his shoulder at Daniel, grateful.

"I'm proud of you too, Max," Lando added softly. "You deserve everything you've achieved. I just wish I could take away the bad stuff." Lando's head remained on Max's shoulder, so he didn't see the confused face.

"The bad stuff made me deserve the good stuff," Max responded.

Danny sighed and tightened his hold. "No, Maxy. You don't have to go through bad stuff to get good stuff. That's now how life works. You deserve it just for being you."

Max would not agree with his friends, but he did not see the point arguing, so he asked, "who is next?"

"Danny," Lando answered quickly. He bashfully looked back, hoping he would not disagree.

"Sure, sure," Danny conceded, pulling his arms back to get his own phone out. "Maxy, you want to time me with that fancy watch you've got? I probably need like a minute warning. Unlike you, who finished your call in less than 3 minutes!"

"Are you sure you do not need a five minute warning? We know how you like to talk," Max joked.

Daniel tickled Max's side in retaliation, thankful for the laughter it caused. Max squirmed a bit until Daniel stopped to prepare for his call. He was calling both of his parents together. He wanted to call his sister too but didn't think he would have time to arrange it and say what he wanted without raising too many alarm bells.

Lando desperately wanted to listen to Danny's call to try to help prepare him for his own, but as soon as Danny started talking, Lando zoned out again. He watched the different drivers in the room to see how they were reacting to calling their loved ones. Charles and Pierre remained the closest to them, and Yuki had attached himself to that group, or more specifically, Pierre. Pierre was obviously trying to be strong for the men on both sides of him. His face looked hard, likely trying to hide his true feelings. Meanwhile, Yuki looked terrible. He was so confused and staring at his phone like it was a foreign object he had never used before. Charles looked like he had finished his call if the tear tracks on his face were any indication.

Lando looked to the other side of the room to see George and Alex together, George on the phone, and Alex holding his hand while looking at his own watch. Fernando and Carlos were sitting near each other, each on their phones. Esteban was on his phone and talking animatedly while Lance seemed to be zoned out, staring at the floor in front of himself.

A hand touching his back broke Lando from his own reverie, causing him to jump. "I'm sorry, Lan," Danny said, continuing to rub up and down. "You ok? Are you ready to call your parents?"

Lando looked back at Danny, shocked that it was already his turn. He hadn't heard a single thing Danny had said. He can see the tears in his eyes, though. Lando took another look around the room, a deep breath, and turned back to Danny with determination. If everyone else could do this, so could he. "Yes, let's do this." Lando picked up his phone and realized his hands were shaking. He couldn't even unlock it in the first two attempts.

Danny reached over and took the phone from his hands. Without saying anything, he held it steady and let Lando unlock it. Once unlocked, Danny took it and turned airplane mode off and opened the phone contacts. Lando didn't understand why Danny was doing that. He could handle these basic tasks. He didn't see the point in arguing, though. Maybe Danny needed to help him to feel grounded. After a moment, Danny showed him his phone and asked, "this number?" Lando could see "Dad (ICE)" open and nodded. He might need to add his mom, but he would see if they were together first.

"Wait, what time is it in the UK?" Lando asked suddenly. The drivers were calling all over the world, and the timing was bound to cause some alarms to go off.

Max answered, "7pm." Of course Max knew without having to look it up.

"It was the middle of the night for your family, Danny?" Lando asked, concerned.

Danny grimaced and confirmed, "Yeah, I didn't think that through. They definitely know something is wrong, but they know to wait for more information." Then added softly as an afterthought, "hopefully."

Lando stared at the contact on his phone until the screen went dark. He felt shuffling next to him and realized Max had gotten up, and Danny had managed to maneuver them both so Lando was back between his legs. His knees were up on both sides, almost like a leg hug, while his arms wrapped snuggly around his waist. "Do you want to practice?" Danny offered quietly. Lando didn't know what to say. To Danny, to his parents. He leaned back against Danny's chest, thankful for the support. He glanced over at Max, now to his right, who was staring right back at him intensely. As they looked in each other's eyes, Danny stated, "you don't have to lie. Tell them you're having a bad night and you miss them. You just want to hear their voices. That's not too strange to concern them, is it?"

"My parents?" Lando asked with a forced chuckle. "They'd be concered for sure, but I think you're right. They'd be more concerned about my mental health than me being in a fucking hostage situation." Lando felt Danny kiss the back of his head but he didn't say anymore. Lando took that as his cue to just get it done.

Managing to unlock his phone this time seemed like a good sign he was ready. Lando clicked "call" and "speakerphone" quickly. He probably shouldn't do speakerphone given so many people in the room, but he just couldn't handle being the only one that could hear his parents' reaction.

"Hey Lando!" his dad answered, sounding happy to hear from him.

"Hey dad," Lando responded, trying to sound more upbeat than he felt.

"What's wrong?" his dad immediately asked, proving Lando failed his attempt.

"Nothing, just um, could you get mom too, please? I just want to talk to you both." Lando found himself rubbing his leg, trying to force out the nervous energy.

Lando's dad responded, "of course, give me a minute." He could be heard yelling in the background and walking through the house.

Lando felt another kiss on his head, this time just above his left ear. It felt more grounding than the rubbing he was doing. He pushed his head back into Danny's face gently, trying to say thank you silently.

"Honey?" Lando's mom asked, concerned. "Are you OK? Your dad said you wanted to talk to both of us. Do we need us to come to you?"

"No!" Lando exclaims much too loudly. He glances around the room to see if any other driver's noticed but just sees a couple of people looking his way. That was fine. Not too big a scene. "I just mean, no, I'm ok. You don't need to travel all this way just because I'm having a bad night. I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow."

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" His mom asks.

"I, um, I just," Lando stuttered. He had no idea what to say.

Danny leaned over Lando's shoulder and spoke to the phone, "hey Mr and Mrs Norris, Daniel Ricciardo here. I'm sorry to scare you like this. Lando was just feeling out of sorts, and I thought a piece of home might make him feel better. I didn't consider how that would sound to you."

"Oh, honey," Lando's mom responded softly. "Thank you, Danny. What have I said about the whole Mr. and Mrs. Norris thing? You're an adult, and a close friend of the family. There's no need for such formality."

"Right, right," Danny agreed. "Just feels wrong, like I'm disrespectful if I don't call you that!"

"Well, I'm telling you I don't find you using our first names disrespectful at all," Lando's mom responded sternly.

Danny laughed and agreed, "Ok, Ok, I get it. I don't want to take away from Lan here. Unfortunately, we need to go in a minute. Lando, tell your parents you love them and not to worry about you."

Lando swallowed and did as told, "I love you. Don't worry about me."

"We're always going to worry about you," Lando's dad responds. "We love you too, Lando, so much."

"So much," Lando's mom adds. "Call us anytime, honey. And, Danny?"

"Yes?"

"You take good care of our boy, right?"

"I do my best," Danny answers with a slight catch in his voice. Lando's parents don't seem to notice and hang up after their goodbyes

[safetycar-restart]

idea! your top 5 drivers who look prettiest in a classic maid dress + shiny black pointed toe heels 😍

my ranking: 5) estie, 4) lando, 3) zhou, 2) charles, and 1) yuki!

...of course charles' heels are red bottoms, what else 😋

- george's long legs anon 👕💙

Ooo I LOVE this!!! Though to be honest, honest all of them would look AMAZING in a maid dress. It also took me an embarrassing amount of time to come up with my list because if I could I would make like 8 of them number one.

5) Pierre

I mainly put Pierre as number 5 because he does absolutely ZERO cleaning. If anything him wearing the maid outfits results in you having to clean even more because it always ends in a big mess.

He wears the maid outfit as part of humiliation, and by the end of the scene the outfit is completely ruined, covered in cum and sweat and lube and most likely torn a little. But that's fine, you just buy him another one.

4) Yuki

Listen, yuki is just SO cute. So cute. So yuki in a maid dress? EVEN CUTER.

And for some reason a detail I can't stop thinking about is that his thick thighs will have hickeys on them? You never stop kissing and biting his thighs, so he's always covered in marks. And in a maid dress the marks look even better.

3) Max

With max, it's all about praise. And it's something he's very uncertain about first, but he tells you that he wants you to choose an outfit for him, something pretty.

You purposefully choose something out of his comfort zone, and praise him so much. He ends up loving it so much. It's not something he wears often, but he asks if he can wear it when he feels really unsettled and just wants to be your good girl.

2) Charles

Of course Charles is here. Of course charles loves wearing little dresses and is always looking for more cute outfits to wear for you. So really it's only a matter of time before he buys a maid costume.

He even tries to clean! Bless him, he really tries. But of course because he's in the maid suit so he's naturally very horny. And listen, he's a clumsy subby baby at the best of times, so when he's in a maid suit he's even clumsier. He tries to clean, really he does. But to be honest it's best if you just stop him and just wreck him instead.

1)) Mick

Mick is number one for two reasons. Firstly, because he looks SO good in a maid outfit. He looks so damn good. Perfect. His waist and tits look insane in the maid outfit.

And secondly, HE ACTUALLY CLEANS!!! He cleans the house in the pretty outfit!! And even if you try to tempt him away from his chores early, he'll refuse. He's a good maid! He finishes cleaning before he gets fucked.

[umgeorge]

george russell is interviewed on media day [part 2], miami, florida, u.s. - may 4, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "Is that how you are naturally, or is that because of the people you surround yourself with?" George: "I think I'm fortunate to be surrounded by really great people-my friends, my family, my girlfriend-but also Toto and the team, they've... I've obviously been a part of Mercedes, as a junior driver, for... I can't remember when I joined that. 2016. And they sort of taught me the ropes, allowed me to understand what this sport's about, and I've never really been thrown in the deep end. Whether that's a good thing or not, I'm not too sure, but it's sort of been step-by-step, which definitely, in ways, is great, but I wanna climb the stairs two or three at a time. At the moment it's one step at a time, but it'll come. Interviewer: "Yeah, no doubt it will. Being back in Miami for the second race here, what memories do you have of last year, and what did you make of the race a season ago?" George: "It was chaos last year. I remember being in this paddock and not being able to move because there were so many people." Interviewer: "'Hey, I need to get to the garage. Kind of important, here.'" George: "Yeah. I remember, actually, we had a few celebrities in our hospitality, and I'm not gonna name names, but full-on A-listers, and when Michelle Obama and her security detail arrived they had to kick out the celebrities, and Michelle Obama's here now, so that was quite a funny moment. But it was a great race here last year, exciting race. We had a good result, and I'm exited to see what Miami brings this year." Interviewer: "Yeah. Much has been made, obviously, about the shortened DRS zones. What are your expectations for this weekend here at this tracK? George: "They've resurfaced the track here, which, in our world, makes such a big difference because the thing connecting us to the ground is the tires, and if that surface is changed, everything changes, so we need to learn how that's gonna be. It's so hot out there, at the moment. When we race in Europe, we measure the temperature of the tarmac in celsius. It's normally between 25 and 40. Here, it's 60 degrees celsius, so you could fry an egg on the ground, probably, if you wanted to." Interviewer: "Would you eat it?" George: "No. [laughs] So those tires are gonna be burning when we drive around full gas, so that could make it exciting. If there's more than one pit stop, the tires are dropping off because they're getting too hot, and that's what'll make it a fun race." Interviewer: "I have to ask you. Laurence Edmondson did a hot lap with you. How did he do? Was he squealing at all? Was he nervous?" George: "He was squealing a little bit. He was definitely squealing a little bit. He actually got the best lap because he was my last lap, so my tires were absolutely destroyed because I was drifting everywhere, so with Laurence I managed to drift a little bit extra. We had a really nice drift out of the last corner, all around the next left-hander, as well. Yeah, I think he enjoyed it." Interviewer: "He's gonna be talking about that all season long. You made his year." George: "Brilliant." Interviewer: "Awesome. Best of luck this weekend. We really appreciate the time." George: "Thank you very much."

[mirohlayo]

F1 DRIVERS AND CHRISTMAS ACTIVITIES

special xmas edition

inclunding mclaren, ferrari, mercedes + verstappen, ricciardo & gasly

warning : none

note : i rushed it and i just think it's super messy and bad written lol

!! english not my first language !!

ᦈ OSCAR PIASTRI 81

you love christmas because of course it means christmas cookies and pastries. you like baking, so when oscar offered to join you to bake some cookies, you obviously had to say yes. he would try to do his best, learning from you. he looks carefully how you manage to draw perfect shapes, and he tries to recreate it even though it ends up in a mess. his cookies are not the best, but he doesn't care since he spend time with you, the most precious person in his world.

ᦈ LANDO NORRIS 4

your tradition is to decorate christmas tree. this year, you came up with the idea of mixing red and gold colors, but your boyfriend does not agree with that. he asks for orange, since he wants to show how proud he is of being a mclaren driver. you argue with him, saying orange will look bad. but he's stubborn, so after a agreement you two ended up by putting orange and gold colors in the tree. it's not really pretty. but lando likes it anyway, and he'll thanks his favorite girl for letting him put his favorite color.

ᦈ CHARLES LECLERC 16

this man doesn't even know how to cook pasta, so no need to ask him to wrap the christmas presents. he'll make a pure mess. instead you made him responsible for buying the presents, and you'll wrap them. seeing you wrapping them, he would propose his help. you say yes because how could you refuse some precious help. but you knew it was a bad idea cause as soon as he grabs the wrapping paper, he rips it. you sigh and he would peck your face and lips in order to apologize. and it worked, since he finished by helping you, well more kissing you but that's a secret.

ᦈ CARLOS SAINZ 55

you literally love christmas market, so does carlos. you are so excited to see the different decorations and dishes, and carlos couldn't help but get excited too. he would bring you there, and seeing those little sparks in your eyes warms his heart. he'll buy you anything you ask, and even feed you some hot food. a big christmas tree is in the center of the place, and of course you have to take a picture with it. carlos will take it, and then probably post it on his instagram story, saying how good the day was and how cute his lover is.

ᦈ LEWIS HAMILTON 44

christmas also means movies marathon. well at least for you and lewis. it is one of your favorite activity of the year. you two would slip under the warm blankets, cuddling so close. lewis starts the first christmas movie, and the night passes extremely fast. laughing and talking about christmas stories, and of course kissing session is open. but soon you start feeling tired, and when lewis sees you falling asleep he would join you. pressing soft lazy kisses on your forehead, the movie still playing in the background.

ᦈ GEORGE RUSSEL 63

snowman. how cute it is. when you saw the first snow, you literally screamed and called george, getting way too much excited. and when the snow would stop falling, letting a large white layer on the floor, you'll run outside with george. you start building the snowman's head, and george build the body. of course you would throw at each other some snowball but it's just too funny. you finish by placing a carrot and some rocks, and ta da ! the snowman is just as beautiful as you and george. and he'll proud of it, but most of you.

ᦈ MAX VERSTAPPEN 33

karaoke night. max wants to spend his christmas holidays only with you, well actually all of his winter break with you. and he loves karaoke and you loves christmas songs, so obviously you had to mix these two things together. so here you are, on a night, playing christmas songs out loud in the house. he'll sing loudly over them, and you'll join him, screaming lyrics like you felt the music deep inside your bones. maybe the neighbors will complain about it later, but you don't care, because the moment was just so romantic and sweet.

ᦈ DANIEL RICCIARDO 3

ice skating is such a fun activity. and daniel wants to do it with you. so putting on your skates and going on the ice. surprisingly, daniel would be the one who fall literally every seconds. he firmly grab your hand, maybe a bit too much since you don't even feel your fingers, but even like that he somehow manage to slip and fall on the ground. taking in you with. but you don't really care, because after all it's just so funny. your laughs filled the air and daniel feels so happy about his idea. about ice skating together. and he knows for sure it will remains as a great memory.

ᦈ PIERRE GASLY 10

you literally hate gingerbread, so when pierre asked you to build a gingerbread house you refused the offer. but you know how much he wants to spend time with you and how much he wants to build that house, so you finally gave up. he would be so happy and after baking everything, you thought about contend for who will build the best gingerbread house. you would put all your efforts in it, so concentrate. pierre doesn't want to lose, and neither do you. so after building them, he'll ask on his instagram story who built the best one. and when he'll see you being the winner, he won't hide how disappointed but proud of you he'll be. because after all if it's you the winner, then that's all okay.

[finelinevogue]

i just saw this photo and then voilà we get this mess:

Harry was so exhausted.

There was being tired like the kind of tired you are when you’ve just finished a training session in the gym, but then there’s the kind of tired where you yawn at the thought of even moving a muscle. Harry was currently the second kind of tired.

After coming back from a heavy day filming on the set of ‘Eternals’, Harry had instantly come back to his house, lucky that the filming was close to your home in LA, and crashed on the sofa immediately. He hadn’t checked to see whether anyone was in the house, because he was too tired to even raise his voice to call.

He couldn’t remember much after sitting died in the couch, except for now where he felt a soft scribbling on his arms. Harry softly opened his eyes and tried his best to be still and quiet, wanting to see what was happening before he made any rational movements. He had to hold his laugh in when he saw the sight to the side of him.

“George, you’re not being very helpful.” Daphne sighed as her brother wasn’t doing what she’d asked him to do, “I asked for the red pen, not the blue one.”

Daphne had to pick up the red pen for herself, watching as her brother held the blue one between his chubby 1 year old fingers. Daphne rubbed the pen over her brothers legs to try the colour out first, making sure she was satisfied before using it on her dad. Harry smirked as he watched the adoring sight in front of him. He would of let her continue had it not been for George about to eat the blue pen.

“Oi, buddy no.” Harry quickly shot up from the chair and pulled the pen out of his hands before he could do any damage. George looked at his dad with sad and confused eyes. “Don’t look at me like that pal. As much as the blue looks yummy, I don’t think y’mum would be too pleased with y’eating it. Don’t want to get daddy in trouble now, do we?”

Harry scooped up George in his arms before sitting back down on the sofa. A moment later Daphne comes and climbs up next to him. “Hi daddy.” She smiled, cuddling into his side and Harry wrapped his arm around her small 4 year old frame and hugged her tight.

“Hello my queen.” He kissed the top of her forehead, before peeling back to give his little king a kiss to the top of his forehead too. “What’ve y’done to me?” Harry asked her, looking at his arms as he kept George pressed against his chest carefully.

“Mummy bought me some new pens and I wanted to colour in. Mummy said that I had to use my big brain instead of buying me a colouring book, though.” Daphne explained, playing with his fingers as she explained with her little people words.

“You definitely used y’big brain against mummy this time petal.” Harry chuckled under his breathe, excited for the look on your face when you saw the three of them.

“George helped too.” Daphne added, making Harry chuckle because George was covered in just about the same amount of ink as Harry had been. If not, worse.

“Very creative, bubs. Proud of you.” Harry kissed his daughters head again. “Where’s mummy?”

“She said she was going to do some work for you.”

“For me?” Harry questioned.

Your job wasn’t a regular 9-5 job. You worked as Harry’s PA, getting paid by Harry’s management the same way that any other employee would. You had been working in the music industry long before you’d met Harry, in fact that’s how you met him, so you were well equipped for the job. It wasn’t odd for you to be doing jobs at random times. It was odd, however, that you were doing work when Harry didn’t even realise there was work to be done.

You had and always would be the hardest working person that he’d ever known and that included himself in that equation. You loved your family so much that it would do anything to provide for them, considering also the fact that you hated abusing Harry’s money. You had a joint bank account, but he only put in the same amount that you got paid in it so you were both equals. His other money went into stocks and shares or property or charity. He loved that you made him so grounded and real.

“She said you looked too tired.” Daphne spoke, a slight sadness to get voice that Harry detected.

“Hey, bubs, what’s wrong?”

Daphne climbed around in his hold, sitting next to her dad’s body. “Just missed you today, daddy. Don’t want you to be tired. Or sad.”

“Who said anything about me being sad, hm? How can I be sad when i’ve got the two biggest balls of sunshine in m’life? Missed you too, Daph, so much. Love you.” He kissed her forehead again and then Daphne cupped her dad’s cheeks as she kissed his cheek and whispered that she loved him back.

Harry ordered Daphne to sit with her brother, turning on Cbeebies to keep them entertained, whilst he went to find you.

His nap has really rejuvenated him and he felt so much better now. He wanted to spend as much time with his family tonight as possible, feeling bad that he’d missed out on yet another day with them. His schedule was too crazy at the moment and there were so many meeting what with tour coming up soon. His management were also pressing him for another project soon and he had no idea what he was going to do for that. His new album was nearly finished, but not where he wanted it to be yet. Everything was becoming too much and he knew the only person that would calm him through it would be you.

It was silent as he walked through the house and towards the office, where no doubt you would be found. Pushing open the doors to the room, he quickly found you turning your head to see who had walked in. You were sat, not at the office desk, but on the floor in front of heaps and heaps of papers. You smiled at him and pushed your glasses on to the top of your head, seeing as they were just for helping with close distance reading.

“Y’alright love?” Harry asked, leaving the door open in case his children needed to shout for him.

“Yeah. Just getting some work done. Y’okay now too? Looked so tired before babe.” You stopped doing whatever you were doing and sat crossed legged on the floor, giving your undivided attention to your husband.

“Was so tired, m’love. I’m better now though. Kids were just showing me their artwork.”

“Oh yeah? How’s it looking?” You asked, intrigued over what your brilliantly creative kids were up to.

“Messy.” Was all Harry could respond, not having the heart to tell his wife yet that the children had become the art themselves.

“Could’ve told y’that by the state of y’arms, H.” You laughed when Harry looked down as if he’d forgotten that he too was covered head to toe in pens.

Harry looked down and twisted his tattooed arm in his grip. Daphne had done a terrible job at sticking to the lines, but he loved how abstract it was nevertheless. The mermaid was coloured just like Ariel and it made Harry recall the night that he’d sat and watched it with his little girl, in order to get her to sleep easily.

“They get this devilsome side from you love, I swear it.” Harry chuckled, walking over towards you and perching on the edge of the desk just behind where you were sat in front of all your piles of papers.

“Me? Devilsome?” You pretended to be offended.

“And they get their charming looks from me.”

“Well I can’t argue with y’there babe.”

Harry and you chuckled, until Harry went more and more silent. It was a tell to you that something wasn’t exactly right and he needed you a little bit more today.

You stood up from your position on the floor and didn’t say anything, but wrapped your arms around his body until you were squeezing him tight. You squeezed, keeping your cheek softy pressed against his clothed chest, until you felt his arms snake around you too to squeeze. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed in delight. Tiny moments like these made your life more than ten times better.

“Y’smell good.” Harry mumbled against where his cheek was pressed against the top of your head now.

You hummed, not allowing yourself to be sidetracked from this conversation. “Y’gonna tell me what’s up or am I going to have to tickle it out of you?”

“Tickle me and see what happens, love.” Harry threatened you, knowing how bad he hated being tickled. It was so horrible that he’s actually cried ugly sobs whilst you’ve done it sometimes.

“Then talk t’me.” You spoke softly.

“Daph missed me today.” Harry sighed, both of you still held tight in each others arms except you moved your head so you could look up at him. He looked down at you, making you lean up and kiss his double chin because you couldn’t help yourself.

You could tell by his eyes that he was so tired. His dark circles were loud and proud and his eyes slightly red from the strain of keeping them open. You always thought your husband worked too hard, never too much. He never took on more projects than he could handle, but the projects he did put on himself he always gave 101% to. It was that 1% extra that caused the dark circles and red eyes. It caused exhaustion beyond reason. It made him half the man he was, because he only ever had half his energy.

“She always misses you.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Y/N. I don’t want her to miss me. Not always. It just proves that i’m never here and i’m always away and one day i’m going to come back and she’s going to hate me and call me a bad bad and—”

You snaked a hand up his back and to his neck before he could stop talking, pushing his neck down so he could meet your lips. You pushed him into the kiss. He was stunned at first, but when he realised that his beautiful wife was kissing him he didn’t hesitate to push himself into it too. He kissed and kissed and kissed you, until he was convinced that he’d probed just how much he loves you. You pulled back only slightly to look into his dazed eyes, giving him one final peck before removing your hand from his neck and moving further away - still hugging him though.

“What was that for?” He asked, not that he was complaining.

“You were talking too much.” You responded simply, before continuing. “Harry, before you I was always so wary of my ex-boyfriends and girlfriends because I would look at them and think ‘shit, I don’t want you to parent my kids’. Half the reason I broke up with them is because my future with them was so non-existent. Y’know what else? They were half the people that you are. They were only on small paid jobs, which meant half the time they were at home with me.”

“You’ve never told me that before.”

“Never needed to. However, you saying that you’re a bad dad and how you’re never here? It’s fucking bullshit. I’ve never felt so strongly about someone other than you, Harry. Never. Seeing you being a dad to those two amazing children out there, is genuinely my favourite feeling in the goddamn world. I’m thankful that you are their dad. They deserve you. They are everything they are because of you, and maybe a little bit of me too. Those children are who they are because you allow them to be just that. The first time I saw you, I knew. I look at you now and I still know. Your children love you H, so bloody much. Don’t think for one second that they could do otherwise.”

Harry had gotten teary eyed as you’d spoken and only progressed to little sobs towards the end. You pulled him close and allowed him to cry on your shoulder. You held him until the sobs had stopped and he could breathe a little better.

“And you?” Harry asked, pulling back to look lovingly at you.

“What about me?”

“Daph said that you were doing all this extra work because you didn’t want it to pile on top of me. Is that true?”

“Oh, these are just old taxes and bills that i’m sorting through ready for the new financial year babe. Nothing too strenuous. I leave that all to you, y’know that.” You chuckled, making Harry smile too.

“Y’too good, y’know that Y/N?” Harry asked rhetorically, making your bite down on your lip to suppress a cheshire cat grin.

“I try to be. Just as I know you do.”

“Fuck, I love you so much.” Harry whispered, before bringing you in for another longing kiss. He made sure you were breathless before detaching himself from your pretty lips.

“I love you too. Now go get yourself clean, before we have dinner.” You released yourself from your warm hug and left the room.

Harry was in the bathroom, scrubbing his skin clean of any pen or crayon marks, but leaving the mermaid colouring in on his arm because he liked it too much. It was perfect, not because it looked really cool but because it came from the most special little human beings in his life. He smiled to himself as he looked over his arm, before hearing you shout down the hallway.

“Harry? Why does my child look like he belongs in an art gallery?”

Harry couldn’t help but just smile, knowing he had the most perfect life with the most perfect people.