#I really like all the characters honestly

[ursiday]

Thoughts on Mordecai? He's personally, my all time favorite.

I like him a lot! Very interesting guy and I have a soft spot for neurotic-type characters lol

[writeaboutit]

Donation Boot

How firefighter Abby and Reader met

Hello hello it’s been a bit so sorry but I had this idea for a series of sorts following firefighter Abby x Reader through life. I have ideas for a couple more stories but if you have any suggestions leave them in my inbox for sure 🤍

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none just fluff

You heard her key jingle in the lock from the kitchen. The metal on metal scratching noise was like music to your ears despite it being like nails on a chalkboard to others.

That noise meant your wife was finally home. All day you had been waiting for her to come home, missing her warm cuddles. She left for the station before you had even woken up.

Usually you stirred awake for the briefest of moments in those early hours when you heard the shower start, you made it a point to stay awake just long enough to say an I love you as you sent her off to do her work. You never knew when it might be your last so you didn’t chance it.

But last night the melatonin must have hit you extra hard because you didn’t even register Abby’s movements when she leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to your brow bone before clunking out of the room in her steel toed boots.

You regretted not waking up; no more melatonin for you.

The front door creaked open and you heard your dog’s collar jingle as she ran to greet your wife.

Abby must have been following the dogs lead to your presence in the kitchen because you heard her mutter, “Come on, where’s your momma?”

Your heart was instantly a mushy puddle on the tile floor following the comment. Just as you finished drying your hands the love of your life rounded the corner.

She was wearing her normal uniform. Not the big, bulky, fireproof suit but the fitted jeans and the navy blue t-shirt with the station’s logo over her breast.

You were such a sucker for a woman in uniform, it’s how she caught your attention in the first place. But what kept you around was that blinding smile she had plastered across her face that first day.

You and your friends decided to visit your local farmers market during second year of college. It was a fluke really, you weren’t even planning to go with them but after days of them whining that you could spare a couple of hours away from the text books and come have fun you agreed.

The local fire station had a booth set up collecting donations and the truck open for kids to climb in and take pictures.

One of your friends thought a fire fighter was hot and insisted on getting a picture with him by the truck (her very obvious way of flirting). You couldn’t blame her though because you had your eye on one of the younger trainees.

She was working the booth, tracking donation levels and you knew you would hate yourself for the rest of your life if you ignored your gut.

So, despite you being 19 and a broke college student you approached. They were collecting cash donations in one of the big fire suit boots.

You slipped the only cash you had on you into the dark depths of the boot, ten dollars, and were planning to make your way back to your friends, chickening out of talking to her, when all of the sudden you heard, “Hey, wait!”

You turned around and there she was. She had gotten up from her perch and made her way around the table. It was a bit jarring at first. She was tall, muscular, that tight ponytail made her look very sever, and here she was leaning over you with an expectant look.

“Yes?” you asked hesitantly.

“Don’t you want your coupons?” she asked suddenly realizing that she was close and backing up a step.

“Sorry?”

The confusion must have been written on your face because she immediately explained in a sort of rambily but very cute way, “When you donate you get a coupon to the local grocery store… and some other stores but honestly there all the old lady stores in the mall. The grocery ones the only one worth it.”

You just smiled softly at her over explanation. You expected her to be this over confident, maybe slightly douchy character from the way she approached before but really you could see her nerves peaking through now.

It only made you more attracted to her in all honesty.

“Oh right, yeah thanks.” you took the coupon sheet from her and after a moment of tense silence between the pair of you, you both went your separate ways.

It wasn’t until later that night when you went to cut out the grocery coupon and throw out the rest that you realized she had messily scribbled her name and number onto the think colorful price of paper.

You squealed, your roommate asked what was wrong and then you both quickly plotted on what you should text her.

It was simple really just a quick hey this is so n’ so, how are you?

Your phone only sat face down for a total of three minutes before you heard the chime of her reply and the rest is history.

Now seven years later your wife, the nervous fire fighter with the tight ponytail, was coming home to you. You would share a meal, a shower, a bed. It was the life you always wanted and all because you went to a farmers market on a random Sunday seven years ago.

That blinding smile that caught your attention all those years ago was plastered across her face now in the small kitchen of your small house.

Her setting her bag down on the island brings you out of your memory.

“Hey honey,” you greet, making your way to her.

“Hi baby, what were you thinking about just now?” she wraps her arms loosely around your waist.

“Hmm nothing much just your pretty smile,” she rolls her eyes, never one to take a compliment, “Speaking of which, that smile usually means you’re plotting something. What is it?”

She looks down at you and smiles, “You know me too well. I was plotting on what we are going to do over the next three days that I have off of work.”

That gets you excited. It’s not often that she gets time off of work. Sometimes you don’t even see her for days at a time when she has to sleep at the station. Three days off in a row is practically unheard of.

“Really?”

“Swear,” she kisses your forehead.

“Eek, so what were you planning?”

She chuckles and belts her arms just under your thighs, lifting you into the air, “Oh I think you know exactly what i have planned.”

Her voice turned seductive and husky. You squealed as you became level with her face. You both laughed into a soft kiss, one that was definitely going to lead to a forgotten dinner on the stove and a closed bedroom door.

[froggiewrites]

hi I had another idea for a request! dealer’s choice on the character(s) (but if you’re stuck for an idea maybe law?), but maybe the reader gets hurt in a fight and their (slightly in denial about being in love) future love interest nurses them back to health? can be fluff or smut or whatever you want I’m not picky I just love seeing your words

thank you I still love your work please keep it up

This request is from @toadmakes, on anon since it's her sideblog! I thought this idea was so sweet, so I just made a really fluffy, self indulgent little piece. Also, I let Law be cool last time I wrote about him so of course I had to make him a flustered little nerd in this one. I hope you enjoy it!!

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Law x Reader

SFW

Summary: You get hurt protecting Law, and he's not pleased. Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Banter, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t remember throwing yourself in front of Law, or being carried back to the Tang. You don’t remember the screams of your friends, or the shaking hands that so carefully bandaged you back up. But that’s alright, because they were all too eager to tell you how stupid you had been once you came to.

“–disgustingly irresponsible! Not to mention unnecessary! What good reason could there possibly have been to do that?” Law is the most furious you’ve ever heard him, and you fear it may be because he’s the most scared you’ve ever heard him. You don’t know how close of a call it was, but you know you hurt all over, and his eyes are shining with something someone who didn’t know better might confuse with tears.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You try not to say it like an excuse or a plea. It’s simply fact.

His eyes shoot away from yours. You swear you see a hint of red on his cheeks, but just as quickly as you notice it, it’s gone. He clicks his tongue with displeasure before continuing. “I wasn’t going to get hurt. I could have very easily moved out of the way. You–” he sighs. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

“Well I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon.” You try to give him a wry grin, but it turns more into a grimace as you shift, pain shooting through you. You’re covered head to toe in bandages, every part of you sore and bruised. You’re surprised you’re upright and conscious right now, honestly. “Can I get some painkillers?”

“You’re on enough to take down a horse.”

“But it still hurts.” You pout, and he grits his teeth and looks away from you again.

“Yeah. Almost dying tends to do that.” Even with the gruffness in his voice and face, his hands are gentle as they begin to fuss with your bandages, checking over every inch of you to ensure you’ve been properly taken care of. You could swear he hesitates slightly at checking the bandages around your thighs and chest, but he perserveres, ever the professional. You wince a few times when his hands brush a particularly tender spot, yelping when he makes slight contact with your ribs. He fiddles with the IV in your arm, and you feel a flood of relaxation and relief hit you. Looks like he found a reason to give you more painkillers after all. “You’re going to be out of commission for a long while, y’know.”

“How long?”

“At least six weeks, but probably longer.”

“What?”

“That’s nothing compared to what it could be. You have a couple broken ribs, not to mention all of the cuts and bruises. You’re lucky your organs weren’t crushed.”

“Can’t you like…shambles it away?”

“No.” His voice is flat. You look at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he scoffs at you. “Well, more like I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I just fix it you’ll run off and do it again, and next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh…so you’re just worried about me?” You giggle, filled with warmth at the idea. And maybe the pain meds. “You could just say so.”

“That’s not–” he lets out a soft choked sound when he realizes there’s no way to deny it without insisting he doesn’t care about you. As grumpy as he can be sometimes, he would never say something so unkind. Not to you. “Shut up.”

“Hey Captain?” You feel your tongue loosening with things you would never say, but you’re too out of it to stop yourself.

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?”

There’s definitely a flush to his cheeks now. “What?”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

“I–No!”

“You don’t like me?” Your voice cracks a little, tears coming far too quickly. Whatever he gave you is powerful stuff.

“That’s not–I–agh!” He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “I like you. As a crewmate.”

You puff your cheeks out a bit with displeasure. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.” 

“I’ll believe you if you look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“You’re looking at the headboard over my shoulder, Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “I li–” His shoulders tense and he suddenly shoots up and turns away from you. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this. You’re high off your ass. I bet you won’t even remember this when you wake up tomorrow.” You can see the tips of his ears burning as he gathers his things and prepares to leave.

“You’re gonna abandon me?”

“I have work to do!”

“I’m a patient, I am work!”

His voice is rising with frustration. “You’re already set up, what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, Captain, I’m not the doctor here!” You try to raise your arm to reach out to him, only to let out a soft whine when you can barely move it.

“Please stop trying to use your broken bones.” He comes closer to gently hold your arm down, concern clear.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

“It will soon.”

“You’re gonna let me hurt? On purpose? You’re so mean to me, Captain.”

He sighs. His thumb starts rubbing small circles onto your hand, though he doesn’t seem conscious of the action. “If I fix you up, do you promise not to do anything like that again?”

“No.”

The affectionate movements stop. “What?”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m strong, I can take a little pain.”

“But I don’t want you to.” You know you sound petulant and childish, but you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t want you to hurt at all, I don’t care if you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to.”

“So you should?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

You huff. “You’re stupid.”

He can’t help but break into a rare laugh, a chuckle that rumbles through him and makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s lost himself until he looks up to see you staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I really like you, Captain.”

He grows horribly flustered, but for once he doesn’t pull away from you. He keeps looking you in the eye, even as every part of him screams to run and avoid his embarrassment. “You do?” His tone is heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“I do. So, so much. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world.” You can feel your smile grow dopey and lovesick. “I’d take a million hits for you. A billion, even.”

“What if it’d make me happier if you didn’t take any hits at all?”

“Then I would say you shouldn’t have let me join your crew. Getting hit is part of the job. But that’s okay. You’re worth it.” You lean forward, begging him for a single touch, since you currently can’t lift your arms. You can feel your eyes drooping, but you fight to keep them open long enough to receive what you want.

He sighs, but you can see the affectionate smile creeping onto his face. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, resting a hand against your cheek so tenderly you could weep. “Get some rest. I’ll fix you up in the morning.”

You hum as he uses his palm to gently push you back down, his other hand on your shoulders to recline you slightly. You’re fading fast, finally losing your fight with sleep, but before you go, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips against your forehead.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | 2.3k | first part

“Okay, what was that?” Gareth asks the moment they are inside the room they are using as a dressing room for tonight.

“What was what,” Eddie answers.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

Eddie doesn’t answer, putting his best poker face on.

“That weird mating ritual you have been performing with the boy in the front row the whole night, maybe?” Jeff adds.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Eddie says, his voice flat as he tries to avoid the other’s gazes. He takes a towel to dab at his forehead.

“Come on, man,” Freak butts in, “you told him to stay after the concert, you have told Chrissy to get them here. We said we were not going to be that kind of band, that we were going to be like My Chemical Romance: no groupies and after concert dnd sessions.”

“Yeah, if you go with that guy what happens to our dnd session.”

“We can play dnd any other day, okay?” Eddie snaps, his hands stretched in front of him. A part of him thinks he looks like that meme of Chris Pratt in front of the dinosaurs, the other part of him detests that he thought of him. “I will make it up to you.”

“Who are you and what have you done to our DM?” Freak asks, his voice serious.

“Yeah, what is this talk about postponing dnd for some boy?” Gareth adds, there is something in his tone Eddie doesn’t like.

“Some boy? Some boy? Am I the only one with eyes in this fucking band? He is the hottest person that has laid eyes on me and I’m not letting you fuckers take that opportunity from me for one session of dnd or I swear to God I am killing every one of your characters.”

The boys don’t answer, they look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Wow” a voice says from behind Eddie.

He doesn’t recognize the voice but the expressions on the rest of the band in front of him make him freeze. They go from slightly annoyed to wary and to bemused. Mainly a mix of all at the same time.

The sounds of steps approaching them break the silence that had fallen in the room, before a voice finishes breaking it.

“How does dnd work with you nerds anyway, are you all bards or what?”

The boys drop their mouths open. Eddie still doesn’t recognize the voice, but there is only one person it can belong to. He sounds just as good as he had imagined. Eddie is honestly afraid of turning around after what the boy- Steve- has surely heard.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” a woman’s voice says. There’s the sound of a hit and a quiet ‘ow’ from Steve under it. “He is just trying to sound all confident after whining-“

“Robin.”

“Telling me to not get my hopes up because he probably wasn’t anyone important and you just did this every concert-“

“Robin.”

“But of course he is the luckiest bitch in this planet and has his instant crush reciprocated and-“

“Enough!”

There are some muffled noises that Eddie can only guess are the girl trying to continue speaking. He wishes she wouldn’t stop. His knight in shining armour may be embarrassed, but the rant has put a smile on Eddie’s face, has given him confidence again. He crosses his legs and turns around slowly, his hands coming up beside him.

“By all means, let her continue.”

The adonis, the hottest man that has laid eyes on him, his knight in shining armour, Steve takes his hand away from the girl’s mouth and rubs it on his jeans. Eddie can only guess the girl has licked it. God he wants to be her so bad right now.

“Hey,” Steve says, his hand coming up for a small wave. “Sorry about Robin.”

“No need for that. I’m Eddie.”

“I know,” Steve answers with a cocky smile as he crosses his arms.

“Oh and now you are acting all full of yourself as if you didn’t ask for the name of the band like 20 times 2 hours ago.” Robin says.

“Will you please just shut the fuck up?” Steve asks with the confidence only a best friend can have.  

“Not a fan then?” Eddie asks amused.

“Not really my scene,” Steve answers. There is a scoff behind Eddie, and if he wasn’t so lost in Steve’s brown eyes, he may have moved to swat whoever it was. “But I sure am a fan now.”

There is now a groan behind Eddie, but he can only focus on the way his heart jumps at the words, the way Steve’s mouth lifts in one side in a smirk, how his eyes spark.  

“I can get you front row tickets to all the gigs, baby.”

There’s a gagging noise being Eddie, and this time he does turn around to swat at Gareth. The little shit just laughs at him.

When he turns back towards Steve he is looking between them with a smile on his lips and he looks- damn- he’s been looking beautiful since he saw him at the beginning of the concert that night, but now his hair is a mess from the almost two hours of sweating and moving around and Eddie’s on stage confidence is slowly being replaced by his fast beating heart.

“Look man I-“ Steve starts, “I don’t want to be a problem,” he adds, glancing behind Eddie as he bites his lip. The girl next to him- Robin- turns to him with an incredulous look on her eyes that Eddie is sure mirrors his own. “But you are hot, I want to take you on a date, and the others wanted to meet you.”

Robin rolls her eyes and looks at Eddie with an eyebrow up.

“The others?” Eddie manages to say, just before he remembers the teenagers around Steve all night.

“Yeah, they are with Chrissy, I asked them to give us five minutes before coming.”

Eddie is about to say something, maybe ask about the date Steve mentioned, but in a second the door is filled with said teenagers, the one with the curly hair in the middle of it.

“YOU GUYS ARE LEGENDS!” he exclaims. It makes Eddie less annoyed about being interrupted. No one has really called them legends before, they have just surpassed 150k listeners in Spotify.

It feels good hearing it.

The dressing room fills with chatter fast, the boys and the teenagers getting along without problem. They take photos, talk about music, about their instruments, about their dnd tradition. The bad part of it all is that Eddie gets separated from Steve. He catches his eye at some point and Steve sends a little wave his way that he answers. He is talking with Robin and Chrissy and, by what Eddie can hear, Chrissy is getting every video Robin has managed to get of Eddie’s and Steve’s interactions through the concert, even a closer video of the kiss than the one Chrissy managed to get. From what he can hear, she wants to post everything on their social media before ‘someone else does and steals the chance at going viral from them’.

Eddie doesn’t know how he feels about posting Steve like that, Eddie should have probably thought, about that before making out with the guy in front of all their audience. But he seems completely comfortable with all of it. Eddie guesses that comes with being as hot as Steve is and knowing it.

It’s some time later, enough that Eddie knows they won’t be able to stay much longer in the venue, that he finally has a chance to slip away. It’s perfect, he has just seen Steve leave the dressing room, probably in search of the toilet, and Gareth and the curly hair boy he has learned is called Dustin are so deep in conversation they don’t notice him stepping away from them and leaving too.

He catches Steve just as he is leaving the toilet. Eddie doesn’t stop to answer Steve’s surprised ‘oh, hey’ that turns into a more surprised ‘woah’ as Eddie pushes him back into the toilet and closes the door behind him.

“Hey” Eddie finally greets. Steve only looks at the closed door behind Eddie and then at him again with what Eddie hopes is amusement. God, he really hopes it’s amusement, he is just not realising how creepy this looks. “So, about that date.”

“Couldn’t wait until I came back?”

“No. I mean, yes.” Why is it so difficult to talk with a pretty boy? Eddie takes a deep breath, composes himself. Theatrics, he is good with those, they make him confident. “I was suffering, being deprived from your company by your companions, and didn’t have another option.”

Steve squints his eyes, “so you decided to have the date in the toilet?”

“What? No.”

Steve takes a step closer to Eddie so now their chests are almost touching. It hadn’t downed on Eddie before how they are almost the same height. It feels very important now when he has Steve’s face right in front of him, when he can look directly at his eyes, at how they drift down to Eddie’s lips. When his inevitably drift to Steve’s lips, the boy is biting his lower lip. “Eager.”

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, he may have miscalculated this. There’s something he wanted to say. “No, I-“

Steve chuckles, takes a step back. “Relax dude. I know you haven’t really agreed to the date yet, we got interrupted and all that.” Eddie is about to speak, to agree a thousand times to the date, but Steve keeps talking. “You just offered to buy me a couple of drinks and called me hot,” he smiles when he says that.

“I want the date.” Eddie says before Steve can keep talking, “as soon as possible.”

Steve steps back closer. “Eager.”

“We are leaving on tour, won’t be back for three months.” Eddie explains before all his brain functions completely shut down.

“I can wait three months.”

“I can’t.”

The next second Steve’s lips are on his, his hands are on his hair, and it only takes a second for Eddie’s to do the same. Steve is even a better kisser than he was in front of the audience. Steve pushes him against the door, brings a hand to his hip, pushes one of his legs between Eddie’s. Eddie just groans and lets himself be pushed and moved. Kissed. “Fuck,” he whispers when Steve pulls away for breath. Steve smiles, takes one of Eddie’s hands in his, and kisses him again. It’s so sweet and filthy at the same time Eddie might cry, but he just moves his hips forward, and Steve answers in kind, grinding against him and getting a groan out of both of them. Maybe the rockstars that hook up with people after concerts are onto something. Though Eddie doubts he would want to do this with someone that is not Steve.

A knock on the door startles them both, Robin’s voice coming from the other side.

“Steve?” Steve and Eddie stop kissing to look at each other in silence, their eyes wide. “Chrissy said we need to leave already and you’ve been in there so long I started to worry you were kidnapped. Wait, you are in there, right? Also, have you seen Eddie? He disappeared.” Steve moves, an innocent thing that has his groin brushing against Eddie’s. And he is only a man. He moans. “WAIT! Are you both in there? GROSS.”

Steve snorts, making Eddie smile. They can hear a couple of steps moving away from the door before they come back and there is a bang on the door.

“Steve! Come out you dingus, have you forgotten about your pack of kids?”

Steve lets out a whispered ‘fuck’ before he looks at Eddie with an apology in his eyes. Eddie lets himself be moved away from the door so Steve can open it to talk to his friend outside.

“Hey.”

Eddie opens the door more so he can also fit in the gap, Steve sends him a look, smiles at his appearance, and then looks at Robin again.

“Hey” Eddie greets too. Robin is looking at them and there is no hiding what they have been doing. She can surely see their bruised lips, their wild hair. Eddie just prays she doesn’t look down and sees the bulge in his pants.

“You two are gross, was making me see that once tonight not enough?”

“You have not really seen it this time,” Steve points.

“Still.”

“You are the one that came to interrupt.”

“And for a good reason! Your kids.”

“What about the kids,” Eddie asks.

“He promised to take them home.” Robin says.

“I promised to take them home.” Steve says at the same time, a resigned tone in his voice. He turns to Eddie, his brown eyes sad, and pinches his nose.

“Can’t she take them home?” Eddie points to Robin, and they both turn towards her again.

Robin takes a breath, stops, looks at them, looks at them, sees the tent in Eddie’s pants. Grimaces.

“FINE,” she agrees, and Eddie grins. “But you owe me. Big time.” She adds pointing at Steve.

“I’ll give you ice cream for life.” Steve says. It must be an inside joke because it makes Robin roll her eyes.

“Give me your car keys at least. Rockstar here can drive you home, can’t he?”

“I’ll have him home before eleven.” Eddie swears with a hand on his chest. The other two stare at him in silence. “A.m.” he adds.

“You heard him.” Steve says while handing Robin his keys.

“Okay,” Robin answers. She takes a step back. “Have fun.” She takes a couple of steps away before she turns around. “Use protection, he is a rockstar, we don’t know where his thing has been.”

“Hey,” Eddie protests, but Robin is already running away.

“She is kinda right.” Steve says with a shrug. Eddie purses his lips. “But I have an idea on where it can be in the near future.”

“Lead the way.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s.

[vrtvyg]

Body headcannons, based off of the ACTUAL character.

Soap: BEEFY. Have you SEEN the man's biceps? his neck? the way his chest casts a shadow in that one blue shirt? he's beefy. Full believer that his thighs ate just as thick, meaty calves, and a matching waist. every body has a bit of curve, but honestly he probably is mostly rectangle, some muscle showing on his stomach. I feel like his body wouldn't be SUPER hairy. like yes he has chest hair, leg and arms, but it isn't super thick. it's shorter, darker. he'd probably keep his pubes messily trimmed. not letting it become a bush but not caring enough to make it look pretty.

Ghost: honestly think he's a bit thinner than Soap. sure they both got muscle mass, but side to side, Ghost has the height and Soap has the form. more muscle showing but not super thick, just a leaner build, maybe a bit of chub on the stomach, arms, but not much. has minimum hair, it just doesn't grow. head a almost buzzed, arms have hair but it's short and almost too thin to see. same with his legs. no chest hair, some peach fuzz below the belly and his pubes are equally short. (I'm kind of debating this, dude might be hella muscular under all them clothes)

Price: Listen, I fucking LOVE thick price as much as the next man, but have you seen that slutty waist??? Big chest, thin waist, and a fucking fatty. he's the whole hourglass, minus the hips. Covered in hair, it's thick too. on his chest, arms, legs, thighs. probably has to get his nostrils and ears waxed, hair grows there too. probably has the thickest hair down there in 141, keeps it neat, but not trimmed. the snail trail is THICK.

Gaz: the definition of lean, the perfect cut after bulking. the long legs, thick calves, thin but muscular. He probably has a decent amount of hair, but it's only on his chest and legs (no happy trail, sadly). the hair on his chest is just ever so slightly curly, and his pubes are probably trimmed but a bit messy, like soap.

Graves: Ita giving skinny white boy. like don't get me wrong, he's a sexy mf, but I can't see him with buldging abs. he's not super thick has the biceps, thighs, and definitely ass, but his stomach is pretty flat, and his chest is flatter. no tits to grab at. I imagine he's pretty bare on the hair, and the hair he DOES have is too light to really notice. except his armpits, no idea why but they're so much thicker there than anywhere else. his pubes probably match his hair, a dirty blonde. probably shaves practically bald down there, regrets it everytime until it starts to flow again.

König: THICK. muscular, of course, but the softest layer of pudge wrapped around it. has that squishy tummy, love handles, and the HIP DIPS! the thickest thighs following, weapon harnesses squeezing around it so satisfyingly. and he's definitely a hairy man, but not in a soft bear way like price, more like a rough texture. chest hair, arm hair, thigh hair, leg hair, even hair on his toes. the snail trail is gorgeous. he doesn't really care to shave his pubes. a bit messy down there. the only time he trims is to make his dick look bigger before sending a pic.

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or something even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?�� he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out.And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watches, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Cleve gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…?”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because  at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you two doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head his nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought it was some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on between you two.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel okay, he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s okay with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

[snowballseal]

hihi! i was curious if you would be willing to do a drabble inspired by the sleepy affection with sylus piece, but with out good dr zayne? i feel like sleepy cuddles with him would be so comforting... regardless, thank you sm for sharing your writing!! every piece you've posted has always brought a smile to my face (kicking my feet all happily too) even for characters i'm not as interested in :)

Sleepy Affection ~ Zayne

Summary: It's winter, and there's nothing like cuddling with your sleepy doctor after you've both had a long day (or a long few days in Zayne's case).

Word Count: 1014

Note: I'm honestly so whipped for this man. Like, I'm so soft for him. And he's so soft for reader. This man would turn into a cuddly cat when he's tired, kinda like the misty invasion card (*eyes emoji*)

Hope you enjoy! Thank you for the request! And thank you for your really kind words. I'm glad my writing can make people happy.

---

Winters in Linkon are your favorite.

There’s something about the snow, the crisp chill in the air, the smell of peppermint drifting from the coffee shops. Every store is draped in twinkle lights and each street rings with the song of bells as people come and go. The kids seem somehow more feral and delightful, running through the parks in their brightly colored scarves, building snowmen wherever they can. Being a hunter, you’re drawn into more than a few snowball fights by groups of eager children who want to see your “fighting skills”.

But your favorite part about winters are the sleepy evenings. It’s the feeling of getting home after a long day, a deep chill in your bones alongside the exhaustion, ready to curl up in your blankets with a cup of hot cocoa and a movie. There’s nothing else like it.

And what makes it even better?

When your boyfriend joins you after his even longer shift.

Your apartment is quiet except for the playful soundtrack of ‘Elf’ humming in the background. You snuggle deeper into the couch, eyes glued to the window beside you, watching the thick snowflakes dance with the wind. They look like little ballerinas to your tired eyes, pirouetting round and round and round. Hypnotizingly graceful.

The front door opens with a muted click.

Lazily, you tear your gaze away from the window. You do your best to glance over the back of the couch, your cheek pressing into the cushion, too comfortable to move, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

Your heart flutters at the sight in front of you though. Zayne stands in the foyer, pulling off his many layers of warm clothes with a startling lack of grace. Snow clings to his dark hair and coat, falling to the ground with each of his sluggish movements. The doctor looks tired. His eyes meet yours, dark and warm, hooded just like your own.

You lift the edge of your blankets. A silent invitation.

Zayne trudges across the living room, his steps uncharacteristically heavy. He takes off his glasses and leaves them on the table behind the couch. You smother a giggle when he practically collapses against you. It’s like having a large cat curl around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck with a long, content sigh.

Resting your cheek against his hair, you tuck your blankets around his shoulders, murmuring a soft, “Hey, baby.”

The doctor lets out a low rumble in response, drawing you impossibly closer. You inhale sharply when he slips his hands under your sweater, his freezing cold fingers desperately seeking out the warmth of your skin. You shiver as they trace delicately along your waist, slotting in the tight space between you and the couch.

“Your fingers are freezing,” you whine, jarred from your sleepy state.

Of course you don’t actually mind, though. Not with Zayne. Not when he nuzzles so cutely into your neck, murmuring the most unapologetic apology you’ve ever heard, his voice low and raspy with exhaustion. A fuzzy kind of fondness washes over you.

“Long day?”

Zayne sighs, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your throat, “I’ve slept only three hours in the past two days.”

Poor thing.

You feel a stab of pity for him. That might be the only drawback of winter, you suppose. Akso Hospital is always infinitely busier with this kind of weather. The snow always brings more accidents and Zayne always volunteers to work extra shifts when the need is dire, no matter the cost to his health. It’s something you love, but also something that worries you.

Brows furrowing, you card your fingers through his hair tenderly in hopes of helping him relax. It’s still a little damp from the snow. Zayne shivers when your nails trace over his scalp. Another shaky sigh escapes him when your hand dips under his collar to massage his nape. He practically melts under your touch, his weight pressing you deeper into the couch.

You’re not sure where the movie is now. The cup of hot cocoa on the side table is likely cold. But it’s hard to care. All you can focus on is Zayne. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The faint smell of jasmine hidden under the lingering scent of the hospital. The comforting weight of his body on top of yours.

Eyes fluttering shut, you nuzzle your face into his hair, hands going still around his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours, drifting in and out of sleep as the snow dances outside. It all feels so distant, your blankets hiding you from the cold, from the rest of the world. 

It’s just the two of you.

The two of you, in your shared apartment, always coming home to one another. Just like this.

Your heart warms at the thought. Nudging his forehead gently, you draw Zayne back just enough to see his face. He looks back at you with those hooded eyes, hazel depths brimming with a reverent affection. Biting back a smile, you lean down to kiss him. It’s a tender thing, a mere brush of your lips against his, featherlight and full of devotion. It leaves the both of  you aching yet content as you draw away.

“I love you,” you whisper, nose brushing his sweetly.

“I love you as well, my dear,” he hums, a flicker of a tired smile gracing his lips.

You can’t resist pressing another kiss to them, your own smile breaking through, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.”

Without an ounce of resistance, Zayne settles back against you, his head resting on your chest. The soft thrum of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep, the exhaustion finally catching up and pulling him under. You listen as his breathing evens out, deep and slow.

And while you mean to stay up, you can’t resist the warmth, the comfort of having him there with you.

Vaguely, you hear the credit song playing as you drift off into sleep.

---

I have such a thing for calling stoic men 'baby', I feel like it's so soft and cute and he'd honestly probably melt for it. Idk, maybe just me, please don't come for me in the comments.

[serene-sky-kid]

Remember I said I was weak? I swear I don't have favorites… well maybe a little

I made a version with the original colors and a version with pink because I feel that pink is like the main color in Serene's design I really like both of them honestly

Serene is like the doll to dress up, all the dresses go for her that's why I almost don't have female characters I also changed the shape of her horns again, I really like them like that, it's like they were coral.

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

If I could wish for any fic to get a sequel, it'd be — falling asleep (in your arms)

No pressure at all of course. I just love your oni!reader fics so much and hate the thought of her dying.

honestly i’d be down to write for wednesday again when s2 comes out and i get hyperfixated like last time

lowk getting hyped already and it doesn’t even have a solid trailer/teaser yet😭😭🙏

have you seen enid’s new hair?? i love love love what they did with the design she looks so pretty and soft and pretty

shame they got rid of her scars (as far as i can tell), that would’ve been such a cool character development for her (enid who’s constantly super worried about her appearance but not regretting that night bc she saved wednesday GAHH i’ll never shut up about them). but yeah i was really hoping they’d keep the scars

[demodraws0606]

My thoughts on the latest episode (aka HU IS THE CULPRIT I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL)

Warning : My sassy attitude is not directed towards anyone else, I'm simply amusing myself and also I've only gotten barely 5 hours of sleep god save me.

This is gonna be very long and messy so strap in folks

It's so obviously not Eden or Ace it's painful (idc 'i'll die for my hubris). Not even just because Eden lying and being the culprit after all of that would be both underwelming and just...miserable. But also because of how the way we're getting the reveal in advance that it could only be Ace and Eden. The fact the cast was already on Eden's throat as well just makes this point even more clear to me.

This isn't like fucking Korekiyo in chapter 3 of DRV3, this isn't how a culprit reveal happens. Especially not when there's so much we don't know yet.

So who is the culprit ?

...

It's Hu, it's literally Hu.... and like 1 pourcent chance it's Nico but I think both of them are accomplices here.

The thing is, I don't buy any of the shit Nico is saying, their admission of guilt is strangely quick and detached. They also seem to go along with anything people say about them (like them framing Hu) which makes it even more suspicious, they could've just said they used Hu's weapon out of conveniance ? The only thing this episode has proved me is that Nico is an Active accomplice rather than a Passive one like I thought. For what reason ? I honestly don't know fully yet but again we don't know a lot about Nico anyways.

Hu's behavior really makes me think she did it and is acting out, mostly out of guilt. She seems really stressed this trial which while makes sense for character reasons, it also makes sense if she's the culprit and feeling guilty. It would explain her defending Eden and Nico mainly I think despite her probably being the culprit she doesn't want the perception that Eden/Nico has to be broken (especially not bc of her). I've already explained how Hu being the culprit makes sense from a character perspective so I'm not gonna get more into it.

By the way any arguments in this post being like "it would be out of character for Nico or Hu to do that" should honestly review their own hypocrisy if they think Eden did it, or even Ace for that matter.

Another thing that makes me even more convinced that it can't be Ace or Eden is that...you can't fucking prove any of them did it with 100 pourcent certainty. David fucking threw the BDA rule out of the window, so we can't be sure Eden didn't do it but like what decisive evidence would make it clear between the two of them.

The only pieces of evidence we have left is :

-The sticky ball of clothes (most likely turpentine because the soil of the relexation room would cause the ball to have stains on it)

-The alibi for the relaxation room water

-The missing glove (which I think i've changed my opinion on what it could mean here)

Eden did know about the ball of clothes (but that piece of fucking evidence has strings attached so we'll get to that) and Ace doesn't have an alibi against taking the water like Eden does.

The missing glove is the only evidence left untouched here and honestly I actually don't think it had anything to do with the glove having someone's hair or anything, mainly because first of all the culprit could've technically just removed any hair on the glove even if it was sticky.

And also there's something else that makes more sense.

I think they probably had to use the glove to avoid rope burn while trying to set up the mechanism to kill Arei. Especially with how high the playground's ceilling is, it wouldn't be child's play. I'm not really good at deciphering what could've possibly happenened directly in the murder but I'd argue it's just more likely that the culprit would be put in a situation were rope burn could happen. This murder set up would require a lot of physical effort, and if the culprit even slipped for a second their hands would end up being damaged from rope burn making them obviously look guilty (also ouchie), which I think is what happened.

It would also explain the scuffs on the floor, maybe the culprit was struggling to hold onto the rope leading to them causing marks with their feet while trying to pull on the rope.

The reason why I think the glove is missing is probably because it's damaged and the culprit wanted to avoid the cast knowing they used Arei's glove during the murder. In fact it's the only piece of evidence that is completely missing

But why ?

Has anyone realised something about, I argue, the three other main suspects here ?

Nico, Eden, Ace ?

They all have gloves.

"But a huge portion of the cast has gloves this doesn't mean anything, it's just a stylistic choice !!" Yeah, the majority of the cast has gloves.

I think now you can understand why the culprit wouldn't want the cast to know that the glove was used. Because if the cast did see the glove that was probably damaged, they would assume the culprit wore it and it would narrow down the suspect list to an extremely narrow pool. This forces them to basically take the glove and hope to fucking god the cast doesn't catch on which they clearly haven't yet.

You know who doesn't fucking wear gloves.

HU JING

My girl got no gloves on !!!!

So yeah, with the glove being untouched evidence yet I think it will be the main decisive thing to point out who the culprit truly is, and I just don't think it's just gonna be like "oh let's just search everyone to see which one has the glove !". For all we know the culprit could've fucking eaten the glove, I don't think we're getting another Min in trying to search shit on people's person.

Anyways I'm gonna transition to other stuff to explain how the Nico and Hu theory makes sense from a logical standpoint here.

Let's get on to the sticky ball of clothes.

First I want to get it out there that I do not think the ball being sticky is due to the soil of the relaxation room. Mono-TV's talk about the "special formula" was mostly to foreshadow the floor of the playground's properties, also the fucking ball would have stains on it.

For me this means the ball of clothes has to have been covered in turpentine especially now that we have confirmation from Ace directly.

This is extremely huge and I'm flabbergasted has no one has mentioned this. Pray tell where the fuck did that piece of cloth go, did it get isekai'd into another world ?

This question actually has multiple meaning here because that fucking ball of clothing actually has massive implications. It confirms a lot of things and also puts a lot of doubt in things that seemed to be confirmed.

Before that I also want to say that Arei 100 pourcent got knocked out with turpentine. I don't want to argue over and over again that it was used because I've done this before but I have to since there are multiple reasons why she had to have been knocked out.

The floor is extremely prone to scuffs, if Arei was struggling then we definitely would've seen more than just a few marks in one area.

The method of murder would have been extremely difficult if she was struggling, like to a ridiculous point. Especially with someone like Arei who has been shown to have been sneaky and very prone to attacking people in their weak spots.

The tape binding Arei's hand in hindsight actually probably wasn't to avoid her struggling, it was most likely due to how the mechanism of the murder work. Keep in mind how the murder had to have worked and imagine if Arei's hands were just loose and flopping around. There could have been possible injuries with her arms that would ruin the culprit's obvious plan to make it look like a suicide. It also just makes sense for weight reasons, again Arei having her arms flopping around would make moving her body even more difficult.

And even if you want disagree with all of that, the culprit could've just binded her tape to avoid the same mistake that happened with Ace with him waking up from the turpentine.

Now that I've made my case about Arei being knocked out, let's get on the actual new arguments I want to make.

First, we know for a fact that a piece of cloth was used to knock out Ace meaning it has to have gone somewhere, if you say "well they could've just thrown it away" I will personally come into your home and shit in your shoes. And you're also wrong because I've already proven that Arei had to have been knocked out.

This means the only piece of cloth available to us would be the sticky ball of clothes.

But...like let me just explain everything that's mind boggling about all of this.

-This ball of clothes had to have been made for Ace's murder to knock him out

-The only people who knew about the old clothes were Hu, Teruko and Whit. Eden only knowing later on, way after Ace's murder was planned probably, because Hu told her about it.

-The culprit used this ball of clothing against both Arei and Ace

-The cloth is suspiciously absent from the murder scene, which makes no sense considering Nico's account rely on them not having left the gym while trying to murder Ace. Them leaving to chuck the cloth aside only to come back to the gym doesn't make sense with the timeline in how we discover things.

Yep, I'm making the claim that Nico didn't actually kill Ace here, I still think it's Hu. Again you can try and complain all you want about how it's out of character for Nico but the reality is...shit is not adding up.

It's really suspicious how silent Hu becomes when her weapon is brought up, immediatly clamming up and not defending Nico anymore. When Teruko makes assumption that Nico lied to Hu to get her weapon, she doesn't reply with a betrayed "Nico is that true ?" or even a sentence she responds with "That's...". The amout of ellpises both Nico and Hu give are extremely suspicious and just make me side eye both of them extremely hard.

I'm gonna go on another tangent here, on the subject of Hu being suspicious. Mainly because I do wanna point out a moment that both makes Eden seem a lot more innocent and makes Hu a lot more guilty.

The subject of Arei potentially committing suicide.

Now, it's very clear that the way Arei was hung was meant to make it look like Arei killed herself, this was very much meant to be the culprit's intention. Both to hide the true murder mechanism and probably to mislead the cast. The fact that it's only an incidental red mark of Arei's wrist that proves she didn't kill herself, proves that the culprit intended for it to look like a suicide.

However guess who argues against this...Eden, which, if she is the culprit I don't see why she would do something like that (and if you say "well why is Hu defending Nico and Eden" I already explained it). Clearly the Eden!Culprit theory relies on her being capable of manipulation so there's no reason why she would be so caught up in her own feelings to just ruin her own plan like that.

You know who seems to really be into the idea of Arei killing herself though, Hu.

That's all I have to say on that, now let's get onto how I think Nico actually helped Hu.

I do think there's still a 50/50 on them working directly together or just Nico catching onto Hu's plans and deciding on their own to help her.

I do think Nico directly helped her though in two major ways

First, the water, it's the obvious one. Nico probably ended up giving the water the Hu here weither they did so with/without knowing Hu's intention doesn't really matter since they're deciding to keep quiet about it now.

I also want to quickly mention how Hu getting water from the relaxation room makes a lot of sense. Hu was busy with Eden in the kitchen and Teruko had taken all the drinks from the gym, so it's likely Hu was forced to take the water from the relaxation room.

Second, the note

Oooo baby let's get into my favorite realisation in watching this episode.

One piece of dialogue has made me realize something

This made me puzzled too, because yeah, who would be listening in and how did Arei not notice when she went into the room ?

Let me take you all back to Chapter 2 Episode 5

Rose and Teruko have a conversation about Rose's secret and that conversation lasts a good while, until...

Nico was actually shown to have been there the entire time, Teruko and Rose were talking without noticing they were there.

Nico then explains themselves like this, pretty much proving this is something they just like doing casually sometimes.

This actually would explain everything on how the eavesdropping happened, Nico was on the literal fucking floor of the infirmary leading to them listening to everyone's conversation. Which tmeans they could have had the information to write the note.

This would explain the inconcistencies as to why would the culprit know to eavesdrop and how they didn't get caught by Arei when she was barging into the room (if they were outside by the door).

Now this leads to two possibilities with Nico and their relation to Hu.

Either they worked together with Hu and they both came up with the murder together. Which means either of them could've written the note.

Or Nico helped Hu without her knowledge, making the note to help her (edit : just realised this doesn't make a lot of sense ignore this).

I believe this is all I have so far and I'm very tired so you won't get a conclusion

Oh wait I hear something in the background...

"WHAT ABOUT THE TAAAAAAAAPE"

First of all, y'all gaslit me into thinking Ace couldn't have taken the tape so I'm already sick of this tape bullshit being used as decisive unshakeable evidence.

You know what I think probably happened ? Ace took the tape, after all it disappeared when he woke up and it's possible that he just then threw it away in the trash.

I mean Ace did say he was gonna "commit a murder of his own", it would be in line with him taking the tape.

Why isn't he talking about it then ? Because he'd be seen as the fucking culprit and also Ace is not really the most honest bitch out need i mention Ace witholding info about David and Arei's conversation.

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: i like it when people use the soul traits as character traits instead of making them their whole personalities. like instead of patience just being a really patient kid, they could be stubborn, stuck in their ways, and very resistant to change. y'know like taking the ideas of 'patience' as a concept and expanding on it for characterization purposes + you can use it for backstory too. Patience is a popular name in Religious circles and is often used to justify suffering in it too ala "wait and you shall receive". so you can easily get a young religious kid character who is very set in their ways since thats what humans told them to be.

honestly ALOT of the soul traits that are named have very religious ties to them and all can be inferred as to do with the concept of 'enduring' (perseverance, patience, kindness, bravery, integrity) justice is the one outlier to the idea of enduring but it can also be tied into the ideas of 'getting whats coming to you'.

UT & DR also have alot of stuff to do with angels, Demons and 'Heaven' so ive always thought the traits toby chose to represent the souls have alot to do with that too.

i love you religious symbolism <3 <-- an atheist

[uriekukistan]

thoughts on jjk 270, unfiltered for your reading pleasure

honestly the whole chapter feels like a disservice to megumi. i know i say that all the time, and maybe i'm just too jaded, maybe i'm wearing favorite character goggles idk, but as a whole i think this chapter was just. not good so if i wanna talk about it with regards to the Favorite Character, i will

my first thought seeing megumi at tsumiki's grave was that gege was gonna finally give a proper moment where he could grieve and reach some kind of closure, maybe get some of the overdue development he's earned. like to me there's nothing better than when the emotionally reserved character breaks down, and this would have been the perfect moment. i feel like so much of megumi's character has been built around his relationship to tsumiki, and the past 60 chapters-ish have been building up to this moment where megumi can properly grieve and maybe express some kind of remorse to tsumiki for being a bit of a brat when he was younger, but he never gets that. instead, we get this really stale and emotionless ending for their relationship, and for megumi's character as a whole. like idk, this whole time he's wanted to be able to apologize to tsumiki and make it up to her after everything she did for him, and he never even gets a moment to mourn. i hate that for him.

next. why am i getting more emotionally satisfying endings for side characters that i literally dgaf abt than for main characters like megumi, yuuta, gojo (i'll stand by the fact that i think he should have died, but like show people mourning him damn), nobara, YUUJI?????? idk like wtf is going on here. to me there is no reason to get a more satisfying ending for that middle school friend of yuuji's who was relevant for like two pages before i get a satisfying end for the literal deuteragonist of the story

then there's the whole thing w hana. i'm not even saything this from a shipping standpoint, but it's frustrating to me that megumi gets to reach some kind of peace w hana and have a good conversation with her before he talks to itadori, the person who's been by his side this whole time, the person who appreciates him for who he is and not their idealized version of him, the person who he decided to live for, the person who arguably means the most in his life right now. he doesn't get to exchange a serious heart to heart with him, but he gets to have a shallow surface level interaction with hana? idk i just feel like it reduces his character to something very superficial and i hate to see it.

and maybe i'm just dumb but i don't get like. any of these new plot points that have been introduced, but honestly, i don't care to understand. it seems like gege is in fact trying to set up a second part to jjk and im just so annoyed by that, because we get this rushed ending where nothing reaches proper fruition so he can introduce these new plots? like idk, somehow that pisses me off more than if he just fumbled the ending, but i hold that thought until we know for sure that he's making a second part.

this was supposed to be more general, but i got carried away w my thoughts abt how bad megumi's ending was fumbled. anyway. yeah canon doesn't exist to me past 268 :D

[spaceorphan18]

In defense of Season 2 Polin

@somedayillbepeterpan I hope you don't mind, I'm responding to your post, but also making one of my own, because I'm diatribing a bit.

I think -- season 3 makes way more sense after watching season 2. I mean - I enjoyed season 3 without remembering anything from Season 2, but I think Colin's story, in particular, works a lot better with the foundation that Season 2 gives it. Because it's there. (Did I want more of it in season 3 -- yes, yes I always want more, but they had limitations.)

But I mean, Pen and Colin's friendship is solidified in Season 2, in a way that it wasn't in Season 1. Season 1 they had a connection, yes, but it was a lot more like the book(s). There's a distant familiarity there. There's a kindness and respect there. But Season 2 really dug into the friendship, and thus a friends to lovers story. The fact that Pen wrote Colin while he traveled? Huge thing (that wasn't in the books). The fact that they discussed their life ambitions? The fact that they showed character growth in both their individual story arcs? All of this is the foundation for Season 3. Season 3 doesn't work without Season 2.

And it's one reason I really, really love their story because it's not - bam, struck by lightning, now we're in love. It's an evolution. The characters have spent time developing together and on their own. They've grown and matured and had experiences and have learned from those experiences. They've developed a relationship that's built around more than sexual arousal but eventually managed to figure out those romantic feelings on top of the friendship ones.

There's a complexity and multi-faceted story there that is working on a lot of different levels. And Season 2 just does so well to portray that. And honestly, I'm looking forward to Season 4, because we'll get to see a different side to these characters in a post-center piece world. Their romance didn't start in season 3, and it doesn't stop in season 3 either. Something that is unique to just them is that they'll (most likely) get the opportunity to have their story shared over a multitude of seasons. Because (and I mean no disrespect when I say this - the other romances are unique to those stories) their story is not just one story, but does what TV shows do best, and is an arc where the characters have been growing and developing since day one, and will continue to do so until the show ends or Nicola Coughlan pronounces she's done (and hopefully the two will coincide.)

[factual-fantasy]

27 asks! Thank you!! :}} 🔮

Oooo very cool! I hope you have fun with it!! :DDD And as for how I make a story it kind'a depends-

For Grimace, Sylvester and the rest of the gang.. well that was just my Violet team. I gave them personalities that I thought would suit them and just.. went from there I guess? <:D

For Conkeldurr, Zuora, Emboar and the 4 piglets.. well, it started with just thinking about Conkeldurr and how much I like that Pokémon. I pictured him as a Gentle giant and imagined how fun it would be to draw him with some other tiny Pokémon that he adopted. I went through the Unovan pokédex and picked a Zuora because she was small and fluffy <XD

After making a post about them I wanted to give Conkeldurr a friend. Well I like the Emboar line so hey why not do that? She can be a mama Emboar to switch it up and she can have 4 kids. Why not? Since I didn't draw her in that first post, I made the story they they went their separate ways for a time but now they're back together.

I honestly don't have solid concrete advice I can offer- I just think "hey this would be neat" and slap it on there. Or I think "hey this scenario would be fun to draw" and so I structure the events and story to make the characters run into this scenario in a reasonable way. That's really all I do.. <:D

@beryl-shade

I've seen Markiplier play it :0 Its.. well its something! <:D

(Referencing this post)

<XD I never understood why they made him Spanish, the sudden guitar noise is always a jumps care XDDD

@shiny-is-miney

Humans do not exist in any of my Octonauts AUs, nor have they ever <:/

@catain-skyler1987

I do not <:/ sorry!

@nwo-metalscottic

Daww,, thank you 🥹🥹🥹its been rough these past.. how ever many months- my health is still poor and I still am glued to my bed/the couch 24/7.. but I'm hoping to finally see some improvement soon.. and I hope you feel better too! <:))

Any who, I'm glad to hear your views on Conkeldurr! :D Some people can be kind'a harsh :x As for the Tepigs, I can see them sticking around even after evolving into Pignites. They love their mama and would have no desire to leave her.. 🥺

As for what threatens them.. when they were apart, I kind'a image any meat eating Pokémon that thinks they could take them in a fight would be a threat. Or perhaps territorial Pokémon or protective parents that would see a big Pokémon coming near and just attack on instinct.

Now that the two of them are together, they have a lot less trouble with random Pokémon. They're a much bigger challenge to take on as a team. Plus I can see Zuora walking with them disguised as a second Emboar or Conkeldurr. Creating a group that looks like three macho parents that will fiercely protect their piglets.

As for the Minecraft movie, here's the thing about the Piglins. In the actual game they turn into Zombie Piglins the moment they leave the Nether. Why are they still normal Piglins despite running through a village??

And a Netflix show... uhg.. I'm just not interested. I feel like Minecraft looses all its charm when you convert it into a show or movie. And especially if you mess up Steve as badly as they did. Jack Black.. that's the worst casting I can think of.🤦

This is so cool! It feels like it could be canon to the Pokémon universe! :DD

Also thank you so much!! :)))

I have! :0 I watched 8-bitryan play some of it! :) ALSO THANK YOU!! :DDD

@cicutagreninja

WOW!! :00 THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD I plan to return to it someday!! :)))

@astaherussy (Referencing this post)

I think I put that on almost out of habit <XD when I picture old abandoned houses I imagine notes stuck to the door warning of debts and bills that need to be paid lest the owners get evicted. So I drew that because it felt fitting!

..Only just now did I realize that the old owners were supposed to be a mystery.. if there was any at all. So having that note on the door doesn't really make sense.. 😅

ALSO WAAHG THANK YOU!! :DDD

I've seen the FNAF movie and I've seen multiple Youtubers play all the FNAF games. Though I haven't played through any of them myself. :00

As for what I thought of them.. I have a place in my heart for all the games. From the lore jumbling ruin DLC, to the classic first game, I'm a total sucker and I love them all.💞💞

The movie wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. I adored the inclusion of MatPat and the intended inclusion of Markiplier. There were some aspects I didn't like and a lot of missed opportunities in my opinion. And of course the lore is all outa whack..

None the less, I think the movie is charming. And my love for FNAF has only strengthened upon the movies release :))

@i-only-created-this-to-read

Since Metagross isn't in Black/White (Its in Black/White 2) I wont be looking into that species for a bit.. and I wont be looking at Mega evolutions-

As for a Quantum slime equivalent, I have no intentions to make equivalents for all the slimes- I didn't add trubbish to be an equivalent to pinks. I just noted that Trubbish are a common slime that can eat anything, just like pinks are :0

The slimes and foods I add will be their own thing. Not intending to replicate or replace any of the canon slimes or fruits/veggies/meats from slime rancher. If that makes sense-

@petrichormeraki

I don't really have any proper name ideas for them 😅 I've just been calling them the shiny one, the normal one, the runt and the big one. XDD

Also thank you!! :DDD

Oooo that's really interesting actually! :000 That would have been a much more tame version of my Zuoras story <XDDD

@pigeonsplural

SLAKJDJ THANK YOUUU!! :)))0

*plotting noises......

(Referencing this post)

This ask will be very relevant soon.. 😈 Also thank you! :)))

@roughsketch2010

WAHGG THANK YIU SOMUCH!! :DDD

@kermit-ydafrog

Daww 🥹 Thank you! MY question is why are you so kind?? :DDD

I've heard of it and seen a lot of fanart, but i never got into it myself😅

Thank you for remembering my boundaries and respecting them! <:) And yeah that paints a pretty vivid picture in my head XDDD

@holly-opal

He would have been a better voice for Bowser then Jack Black in my opinion..

@fandomcenteral

WAAHHG THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD And its still a surprise to me that I'm considered a celebrity :00 I hope people aren't intimidated to send me asks because of that.. <:D

@muncho1234 (eye post in question)

Peso, Dashi, Tunip and Ranger Marsh have no eye bags because they have decent sleeping schedules and diets. :0 The rest of the characters either have poor sleeping schedules, deal with a lot of stress, or are very hard workers and burn up all their energy throughout the day.. :(

Oh boy 💀

@minnesotamedic186 (Eye studies post) (Kwazii and Calico Jack hug post) (Ranger Marsh jump scare post)

WAAHGG THANK YOU!!! :DD I ALWATS LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE NOTICE THE DETAILS I PUT IN!! :))))

@caronaro-flipaclip

<XD While I agree with this, I cant help but get red in the face when people like/reblog my old artwork.😅😅 And there's nothing wrong with that! It just shows how far I've come! :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

People asking which one we get between Jack Skellington and Oogie Boogie, while I'm sitting here in a Comm class thinking "Why not both? Lmao". We all recognize them easily, so having it a twist(heh) of both, with Jack's being a hero character and Oogie being the main bad, could work out with how they actually are.

How Yana could go about it, idk, we'll have to wait and see. But honestly, am so fucking hyped for it. But what exactly do you think could be a possible plot idea or what do you think could happen in the event?

You can answer at your own leisure.

[Referencing this post!]

I don’t think it’s strange at all that people are speculating which character will be the one twisted. Yes, Fellow and Gidel were introduced as a pair, meaning that there is no limit or precedent set for there only be one new character revealed. However, it’s very clear that Fellow was the star of the show, as he has the stronger presence (and ended up getting the SSR as well). Ultimately, it does mean they end up being treated like a single character rather than individuals anyway. So really, I think most fans are still running on the logic that only “one” can be twisted.

The problem with Jack and Oogie is that they are both strong presences, neither dominating the other when it comes to being attention grabbing. Fellow and Gidel go together, but Jack and Oogie are opposing forces, not teammates, in their own story. This makes it hard to predict which of them will be twisted and makes it less likely they’d be crammed into the same card.

(ncbsbsvwjwheisn NOT GONNA LIE, I’m really hyped for a twisted!Jack Skellington… but a part of me is also really attached to my OC that’s twisted from Jack 🤡 That’s not to say that I don’t want a canonized one; I think I’d actually ASCEND if we got a twisted!Jack Skellington for real!!! It’s just that I wouldn’t know what to do with my OC after the fact 🤷‍♂️ Something similar happened with my Snow White OC when Neige was introduced in book 5 www)

A popular idea I’ve seen in circulation is another isekai plot where either the students go to Halloween Town or the Nightmare Before Christmas characters come to Twisted Wonderland from Halloween Town. I’d wager that’s a pretty safe guess! Like… they’re doing their Halloween parade prep and there’s a new character disrupting things. Maybe they’ll have to pull off a heist or kidnapping of some kind?? 🤔 It would be funny if the NRC boys had to help play matchmaker for a Sally and Jack/j Personally (and this is a stretch), I really would like to see some kind of casino or gambling element because I love those design details for Oogie’s lair. Not sure if it would make sense being a large part of the event story, but it would be cool to consider.

[meo-eiru]

correct me if im wrong but i remember you mentioning a yan gyaruo oc? any updates on him?

My gyaru oc? Well he exists, in my head that is. If you guys would like I can add him to the next character poll but idk if I'd introduce him without him winning.

Honestly I have hundreds of different yandere ocs, and my original plan with the blog was mainly focusing on introduction comics of them and thought we'd quickly have like 20 boys introduced. But what I didn't take into consideration was asks, and the time it takes to really flesh out characters. Sometimes with how much I post it really does feel like I have 20 boys introduced but then I realize we only have 6.

Which is not a bad thing at all don't get me wrong, I feel like this way you guys get to really connect with the characters instead of just having one of two mini comics about them.