#Id go into detail about the things id let him do to me but im afraid id use up all my tags

[kaethefangirl]

yall gon hate me for this one 😭😭

HEAR ME OUT....

WHY HE KINDAAAA.......

[orestesimp]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 12

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you follow Marc out into the night. Or alternatively: 🎵 Fighting evil by moonlight. Winning love by daylight 🎵

Content: Cthulu horror, violence, blood and gore, angst, yikes overall.

Word Count: 6.2k words

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You’re not thinking straight. 

Somehow you’re already at the end of the hallway, pushing the button for the lift and having a staring contest with the red floor indicator, and you don’t even know if you managed to lock up behind you.

The lift is stuck at the ground floor, apparently unwilling to do the one bloody thing a lift is supposed to do and lift itself. You can’t be bothered to wait. Before you even properly register making a decision, you’re already down the five flights of stairs, out the building's front door and onto the street, cheeks stinging from the bone-chilling cold.

Usually, the residual heat from the bustle of city life coupled with fumes from the busy traffic will keep London warm enough even in the dead of night. But now, as you make your way down the cramped street, it’s so cold that your breath is frosting in front of you. 

It’s eerily quiet for Central London. The only sound is the one made by your feet carelessly splashing through the puddles of rainwater filling the potholes in the cracked pavement, and it seems to echo off the tall concrete walls on either side of you. 

You don’t know what you’re doing.

It would be better, safer,  smarter for you to go back upstairs where you could stay comfortably warm under the covers while you wait for Steven to return to you in the morning. 

You know all of this, but you don’t turn around. Don’t even hesitate. One foot after the other, you stride determinedly down the narrowing passageway that’s lined with pungent beer bottles and deep fried chicken bones, until you reach a fork in the street. 

This is all so stupid.

You don’t know which direction Marc went—right or left—don’t know what his intended destination is or if he even came this way at all. But you do know one thing.  

Marc Spector loves you. 

His quiet voice still echoes between your ears. ‘I love you too’, he’d said, and it was real. 

You chance left into an even smaller alleyway. You don’t know why, other than that the dark tapered alley seems like a more likely place for Marc to have slunk off to in the middle of the night. 

There are no street lights here, and the walls on both sides seem to narrow in on you, until you feel like they're practically scraping against your shoulders. Somehow, even though you’ve been more or less living in this area as of late, you’ve not ever come across this path before. 

A foetid smell lingers in the air, like someone’s left rotten eggs out in the sun. London’s never exactly smelled good, but the sudden overwhelming odour stings your nostrils, invading your throat in a way that threatens to have you doubled over, dry-gagging.

The rain is coming in heavier now, but it does nothing to help with the smell. Just permeates every single layer of your clothing, until you’re soaked all the way down to your socks. 

You’re bloody freezing. 

Something doesn’t feel quite right, but you chalk it up to the fact that you've chosen to take a stroll down a dark alley in East London in the middle of the night by yourself. Not your brightest decision ever, but here you are.

A tingling at the back of your neck makes you throw a quick glance over your shoulder, checking to see if someone’s watching you, but there’s nothing there. All you see is the same depressing-looking alley that you just came down. Red-rusted brick walls above a concrete street covered in manky puddles and rubbish, just like every other dirty little alleyway in East London. 

Somehow, this does nothing to reassure you.

The skin between your shoulders itches, prickling with uncomfortable heat despite the cold, and it feels like a warning sign. 

Despite the fact that you’re wearing sturdy boots and covered from toes to chin, you still feel uncomfortably exposed. Like any minute now something might start nipping at your heels from behind. It’s the same illogical fear you feel when you’re alone in bed at night with your feet sticking out from under the covers. You’ve left yourself defenceless and vulnerable to the monsters under the bed. It’s only a matter of time before something from the darkness will reach out and grab you by the ankles, dragging you under. 

You continue forwards, hurrying your pace with every step. It’s irrational, but you can’t shake off the feeling that if you don’t, something will catch up to you.  

Some sort of.... clicking starts up behind you, and you slow to a stop. Some lost survival instinct is screaming at you, telling you to freeze. To hide so it won't see you.

The unsettling noise continues, rattling oddly in your ears and growing ever more distorted as it echoes off the walls around you. You’ve never heard anything like it, and you wish you weren’t hearing it now. It’s… strange. Not quite right. 

Other.

The noise stops, leaving just the sound of your breath rasping in and out of your too-tight chest. You force yourself to move; fighting the warning siren of your heart hammering painfully hard in your chest, you turn slowly to look over your shoulder at the alley behind you.

There’s nothing there. You're alone.

Slowly, slowly you turn the rest of the way, but there's still nothing. Aside from the usual smattering of rubbish, the only thing in the alleyway is the image of the moonlit sky mirrored on the rain-covered, empty pavement.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, and force yourself to keep breathing, fighting the stubborn tightness of your chest to take in deep, calming breaths that turn visible as you exhale against the crisp air.

So you heard an odd sound. And what of it? Probably just someone’s ancient radiator clicking up a storm. That’s all. Everything else is just your overactive imagination. Might even have been a bird. Someone’s escaped parakeet doing a strange mating call perhaps. What do you know? London wildlife has always been unpredictable and strange, after all. 

You’ve nearly managed to convince yourself, about to turn on your heel and continue on your way when you spot it. The gentle ripple pattern spreading out across the thin sheet of water covering the grey concrete. Not unusual in the least, given that it’s raining. Except it’s a large ripple. Too large to be from the rain.

Despite the freezing temperature, your spine prickles with cold sweat underneath your thick coat. 

The noise starts up again. It warbles and clicks-clicks-clicks. You can’t pin where it’s coming from. It’s disorientating. It comes from the ground, rattles off the walls and lingers in the air above. It’s everywhere. 

Water splashes on the ground some feet away from you, a small spray going up in your peripheral vision, like something stepped on it. Something heavy. Something large.

But there’s nothing there. And that maddening clicking noise won’t stop. 

You can’t see anything in the empty space over the water puddle in front of you. Nothing, not even the smattering droplets of the pouring rain. The water is eerily still which… can’t be right. 

You narrow your eyes at the puddle, dragging your gaze upwards, and…

There’s a hole in the rain.

A void of some sort, defined only by the absence of the falling water. Following the empty space upwards, you can see a clearly defined boundary where the droplet starts again. Like the rain is bouncing off a transparent surface.

There’s something there. Something solid. Something big.

A huge eerie shape. As you squint at it, you begin to recognize that the water is outlining crouching limbs and a torso. Your brain keeps trying to pin down what it looks like, but it’s not the shape of any animal you know of. There’s something not right about its form. It's disproportionate; all overly sharp edges and grotesque bulging curves that make your skin crawl. The angles are wrong somehow in a way that makes your brain itch to look at them.

It’s... 

It’s…

Not of this world. 

You hold your breath, standing motionless, feet rooted to the wet pavement as rain pelts your face so hard it stings. 

Click. C-Click. CCCCClick. 

The noise rattles closer. Louder now. It feels like it’s burrowing under your skin. Into your brain. But the warning sirens blaring inside your head are louder still. Deafening. Every instinct and nerve ending in you is screaming one thing. 

RUN. 

You turn and run, one leg leaping in front of the other. You run without looking behind you. Running even as you almost stumble, feet skidding against the slippery-wet concrete. Your lungs burn, but you don’t stop. Don’t dare look back. Eyes fixed on the dim, rain-fogged light at the end of the alley in front of you. You run. 

There’s a loud crash behind you. A percussive thunderclap of sound that hurts your ears. The crunch and clatter of concrete being torn apart. 

But you don’t stop. Don’t look behind you to investigate. You run. 

You run, ignoring the bile pushing its way up your throat. Run, ignoring the shrieks of sound erupting behind you. Running from the sound of a wounded creature, like no animal that you have ever heard in your life. A hellish scream that doesn’t sound of this world, tearing through the thin space. A pain that is born out of pierced flesh and broken bones. You run.

Stupid. You’re so fucking stupid. 

Why are you here? Why didn’t you just stay in the safety of your home, tucked up in bed under the covers? The stinging wetness in your eyes blurs your vision as you tear down the alleyway. Does it open out into another street or dead end? You can’t tell yet, but there’s nothing else to do. You run.

You collide with something solid and firm.The impact knocks the wind out of your lungs, and a strong pressure surrounds you from every angle, grabbing hold of your shoulders and constricting around your ribs. You can’t run. 

You can’t breathe. There’s something clamped over your mouth and nose. Coarse gauze pressed into your nostrils, suffocating you. 

You make a desperate attempt to free yourself, arms trying to push out against the tight hold, hands clawing at whatever you can reach, but your pathetic attempts are no use. The grip only tightens at your resistance. It’s too strong. You can’t get free. 

This is it. There’s nowhere left to go. You’re trapped. It’s over. 

Still, you can’t stop fighting, thrashing in every direction, trying to squirm yourself loose.

“Stop! Stop!”

You recognize that grumpy, impatient voice. You’d know it anywhere, even muted as it is by the blood thundering in your ears. You register that the solid weight holding you captive is a person. 

Marc. 

You go limp. Shoulders slumping into his hold. Legs no longer kicking as your feet settle onto the ground below.

“I’m gonna let go of you now. I need you to not fight me. Or scream.” 

You nod into his hand, and the pressure finally gives, as does his grip. Then you’re free. 

Turning around, the sight that greets you nearly has you screaming and running after all because it’s not Marc at all. It’s…

A mummy.

Layers upon layers of white gauze are wrapped like bandages over every inch of the body before you. Wound around limbs and woven over a broad torso, continuing up to shroud the face. 

And the eyes…

Where the eyes should be, the eye sockets are hollowed out. The gorgeous brown you expected is absent, replaced by a white glow that blinds you when you try to look directly at it.

You wobble on your feet, a sick nausea filling your throat. 

It spoke like Marc. Used his voice. 

Oh god! Is this some monstrous creature that mimics human voices to lure in its prey? 

Did it eat Marc!? 

Is it going to eat you!? 

The glowing eyes narrow into impatient triangular shapes, the shoulders pulling up and back while the feet shift in an almost nervous gesture. An odd sense of recognition fills you.

“M-Marc?” 

The eyes narrow further into a scolding glare. Even without a mouth, you can tell he’s scowling at you. The thing growls, but it’s a human sound. And a familiar one. 

Marc, definitely Marc.

Only he could manage to scowl behind a hoodie, three layers of mummy bandages and a glowing Halloween mask. 

As you watch, the hood and mask recede, evaporating into thin air. White bandages give way to golden-tanned skin, and you’re greeted by the face you know so well. Hard eyes staring down at you above steel-cut cheekbones and a jaw set with displeasure. 

“Marc!” Thank god! Relief floods your chest, but it’s short-lived. That thing could still be out there. “We need to go!”

“Why are you here? You can’t be here,” Marc grates out, resisting your attempts to pull him into motion. He’s clearly furious, but right now the two of you have got more important things to worry about.                                                                                  

“We need to go,” you repeat, pleading with him, hands grappling for his, trying to tug him in the direction you were running before, but he resists you effortlessly, like he’s anchored to the spot. You might as well be trying to tug a stone statue.

“Marc, please! There’s something out there! Like a– a–” you fumble, unsure of what to name it, because you don’t know what the hell that thing was. 

An invisible monster? A demon? A boogeyman? 

“I don’t know what it was! Some kind of… creature. Something big,” Your voice breaks. Your fingers tremble where they’re curled over his arm, and you grip harder. Digging them further into the bandages, trying to get them to stop. “You have to believe me Marc!”

He’s not going to believe you, is he? He’s going to think you’ve lost the plot and need to be sectioned. God, maybe you do.

But the vexation in his face fades as he watches you, his expression shifting into something softer, filled with worry. His hands reach for you, the bandages soft against your cheeks. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He tips your chin up, eyes searching your face, and if he thinks you are mad or hysterical, there isn’t a trace of it in his gaze. There’s no disbelief. “I know.” 

His calm acceptance stuns you. 

“What do you mean you ‘know’?” 

“I know because I…,”—he hesitates, mouth set in a grim line—”I took care of it.” “You took care of… what? Marc, what–? What do you mean by that?” 

Marc falters at that, and runs one gloved hand over his hair. His eyes dart around like he’ll find the answer hidden somewhere behind the overflowing rubbish or carved into the worn brick of the alley wall. 

“I…,” He hesitates again, glancing at you and then away, like he can’t make himself hold your gaze. “This is what I do,” he finally spits out. “I tried to keep this shit away from you. It’s not something you were ever supposed to see. I need you safe.” 

The unhappy set of his mouth makes your aggravation falter, but you need to understand.

“What do you mean? Tried to keep what shit away from me?” 

“I–” He breaks off, eyes darting up and across the wall of the building across from you, high above your head. “Shit. We need to go.”

Oh sure! Now he wants to leave. (Though it’s not like you’re going to argue.)

Marc grabs your arm again, and you do your best to keep up as he hauls you along down the alley. 

You try to watch the alley walls and street as you run, searching for any sign of the grotesque invisible creature from before, but you can’t make out anything in the pouring rain this time. You try to listen instead, but you can’t hear anything over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Marc stops suddenly, and you stumble to a halt as well, crashing into his back and nearly falling. 

“Mar—“

“Quiet,” he cuts you off with the low demand, and the quiet urgency of his voice has you freezing instantly. He stares at the mouth of the alleyway, then up where the moon is just barely visible in the gap between the buildings, eyes wide and alert, face rigid with something like fear. It makes your own fear balloon, your pulse screeching in your ears.

Suddenly there’s a scraping sound, and small bits of brick fall from above, skittering down from the wall on your left. You peer at the shadowy face of the building, but there’s nothing to be seen.

Another grinding sound, closer this time. Something large and heavy rubbing against brick. Another shower of gravel and debris, but you still can’t see where the bloody thing is.

Dread curls in the lining of your stomach.

Then it starts again, that otherworldly clicking that seems to burrow right  into your skull. You cover your ears reflexively. Would claw them right off if only it would make the noise stop. 

Marc reaches for you then. Moving slowly and deliberately, he wraps an arm around you, scooping you close against his chest and taking you with him as he backs away. 

You huddle against him, staring up at his determined profile. His eyes are trained on a spot on the building across from you, clearly seeing what you can’t. 

Without looking away, he leans in closer to you and whispers, “Get ready to run.” 

He’s barely finished speaking when the wall crumbles above you, and Marc’s arms untangle from you, leaving your side. 

You think you catch the sight of something moving in the rain, a slight distortion visible as the shape crosses in front of the moon, then you’re shoved to the side, voice echoing in your ears.

“Run!”

You weren’t ready. 

Shoes skidding backwards in the slippery rain, you lose your footing, and go down. You land hard on your bum, and can’t seem to get up again.

Everything is happening too fast. 

Your chest hurts. Breath stuttering in your lungs, too quick and shallow to let you take in any oxygen. Your heartbeat is pounding so rapidly against your ribs that you’re sure it’s going to rip a hole straight through your chest to the open air.

It’s too bright.

The light from the moon above seems to flood the alleyway, and your eyes throb.

Too loud. 

A solid thud reverberates through the air mere feet away from you. It’s the sound of knuckles meeting flesh. A blood curdling shriek rips through the space. 

Too much. 

Marc's forearm is held up, parallel to the wall, like he’s pinning something that isn’t there. Something large and thrashing. Your eyes are fixed on the bizarre scene before you. You don’t understand what you’re seeing. Don’t understand how the man who folds your clothes in neat squares and makes you lukewarm tea is the same man as the one who stands before you now. Poised and calm in the violence. Holding his own against an otherworldly monster, and winning. 

None of this feels real.  

His fist slams forward, landing some distance away from the brick. Punching into the invisible air. But there’s a horrifying squelching sound with each landing punch that lets you know something is there that you’re not seeing. 

You watch, so focused on Marc and the damage he’s meting out that you almost don’t notice when a damp gust of air grazes against the fine hairs on the back of your neck and sends the soft skin underneath prickling. You fail to take it as the warning sign it is. 

Fuck. There’s another one!

You don’t have time to react. No time for anything. Just the sound of glass crunching against asphalt, and something slamming into your back, so forcefully that the impact threatens to crush your ribs. 

You land face first this time, cheek kissing the concrete with a painful sting. There’s a heavy weight on your back, and mud in your mouth. Or maybe blood. Everything tastes like pennies. 

Marc shouts your name. His voice is raw, panicked. So full of fear it's almost unrecognisable.

You want to go to him.

Anchoring your elbows on the gravelly ground, you try to push up against the heavy weight pinning you to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts. Your shins are stinging. Cheek too and your forearm where your sleeve must have ripped. Your ribs are one big throbbing blotch of burning pain. But you manage to lift your head up in time to see Marc leaping towards you.

He seems to be suspended in time, one hand pulled back, the other outstretched in mid-air as he reaches for you. Droplets of rain sparkle where they’re caught in his hair, and others seem to trickle leisurely down his forehead above his brown eyes that are wide in blind panic. 

You feel it before you see it. 

His fingers curl around your wrist, the solid weight of his hand clamping tight around your forearm. Time speeds up again at the touch. You hadn’t realised sound had gone missing too until it returns with a deafening fury. 

The suspended rain smatters down all around you. Marc’s other hand impacts the creature pinning you down with a sickening squelch, and a grotesque shriek tears through the space behind you, tapering off into a rheumy deathrattle. 

Marc’s face fills your vision, the terror in his expression just starting to shift into relief when some small distortion, barely seen out of the corner of your eye, breaks into your line of sight, and he’s ripped away from you again by some invisible force.

You don’t understand what you’re seeing. There’s some disconnect between what’s happening in front of you and your brain’s ability to process it. 

You know that can’t possibly be Marc hurtling through the air, white cape billowing behind him like a white flag of surrender. Surely there’s no need to worry because of course you aren’t seeing his body impact the side of the building with a horrifyingly meaty thud that reverberates in your bones, and then tumble to the ground in a shower of broken masonry

You stare at the pile of white fabric and brick pieces there on the ground for a moment, and your heart pounds so forcefully that you feel lightheaded.

It’s a horrible nightmare made reality, and your brain wants to fight it. To pretend it’s not happening. Tell you that it’s not Marc’s lifeless body lying facedown on the ground in front of you.

But… it is.

You can feel the bitter acrid taste of the truth carving itself into your throat. 

You scramble up, ignoring your bloody knees and the searing pain in your side, not stopping until you’re hunched over Marc’s body. He’s terrifyingly still. You grip his shoulder, tugging hard until you’ve managed to turn him onto his back, all the while begging to any deity or higher power who might be listening to please let him be all right; let him be awake; let him still be alive. 

Please. 

He has to be. 

Cupping his cheeks in your palms, you have to swallow the raw sob in your throat at how cold his skin feels against yours. 

A pulse. You need to check for a pulse. 

You shove two fingers against the column of his throat up under his jaw, trying to find the right place, but the stupid bandages are too bloody thick. You can’t feel anything through them. You tug at them, trying to rip them free or wedge your fingertips underneath to get at bare skin, but they’re hard as steel. You don’t stop though, clawing at them now because you’ve got to– 

A heavy, thudding footfall lands on the ground a short distance away, and you jerk your head up.

The creature is there in the alley, right in front of you… 

All you can see is the malformed outline, silhouetted by the cascading rain refracting in the moonlight. It turns slowly towards you, feet grinding against the pavement.

Absolute terror swamps you. Every cell in your body is screaming. You need to escape!

RUN! 

You scramble to get ahold of Marc, barely managing to wedge yourself underneath him until you can wrap both your arms around his chest from behind and heave, straining to drag his uncooperative body away from danger. You don’t get very far.  

Marc is heavier than he looks, and your feet scrape and skid against the wet concrete as you desperately try to drag both of you backwards. You barely manage to budge him at all, gaining at most a few inches before the creature begins clicking again.

You can see the outline more clearly now. If you squint you can just make out mangled tentacles protruding from where its head must be and writhing grotesquely in a way that your eyes refuse to focus on. Your breath seizes in your chest and you have to look away, your body wracked with shivers.

You watch it come out of the corner of your eye, thick limbs advancing on you one torturously slow step at a time. You don’t understand why you’re still alive. The creature certainly seemed capable of ferocious speeds when it had attacked Marc before. You get the feeling it’s mocking you. A giant supernatural cat playing with its prey before it eats, and you’re the hapless dinner. 

The thought sickens you.

You tighten your grip on Marc, wrapping your arms around him with renewed determination. Clutching him as close as you can in a futile attempt to protect him from this thing. Unwilling to let it have him. 

There’s more loud clicking, closer still, scraping against your brain like nails on a chalkboard and making your spine curl. 

You’re out of time. Out of options. Your brain furiously scans through a lifetime of collected memories and information for any shred of useful knowledge. Anything to help get you out of this, but there’s… nothing. No secret escape route. No Hail Mary play. 

 It’s hopeless. 

You wish it hadn’t come to this. That you could somehow save Marc and Steven and yourself. That you had more time. 

You wish you had taken the time to eat the breakfast Steven’s made for you with him yesterday morning. That you could have had the chance to taste Marc’s pancakes again. That you had kissed Steven more often (should have done it every opportunity you had), gotten to see that sunshine smile of his light up the room one last time. That you could’ve told Marc you love him in person. 

But that’s the thing isn’t it? 

You don’t have all the time in the world. You never did. Everything has an end. 

You hug Marc closer to your chest. You’re just glad you got to face your end here with him, together.

Searing pain rips into your ankle as cold claws sink into your flesh. The breath you’ve been holding all this time is knocked out of you. Any small shred of peaceful resignation you’d been able to muster in the face of certain death is ripped away, and you react without thinking.

Your foot flies out in a swift kick. The heel of your boot connects with something soft and pulpy that yields with a sickening squelch. 

There’s an angry clicking shriek. It rattles your eardrums painfully and vibrates through your chest, like standing too close to a speaker at a club. The monster takes a step back, but the taloned grip around your heel doesn’t ease, dragging you with it. 

You kick again. Firm sponginess that makes you think of decomposing flesh. Unnaturally soft for something still moving. You think you might vomit. 

The thing screeches but doesn’t loosen its grip. Asphalt and shards of glass dig into your back as it drags you along. You try to cling to Marc, but you can’t. You might as well be a flea for all the hope you have of challenging its strength. 

You twist around onto your front. All you see is mute greyness of the alley. The increasing distance between you and Marc as the thing drags you along. You try to claw at the ground but there’s nothing to hold onto. Your watch, somehow miraculously still on your wrist after everything, pops free now, and you watch it disappearing from your sight, growing smaller and smaller as you’re dragged away, and somehow that’s the final staw. You squeeze your eyes shut on a ragged sob, draw in half. breath to scream, and…

Everything stops. 

It’s dark behind your closed eyelids. Your throat is raw, burning. Are you still screaming? You must be, but you can’t hear anything anymore. There’s no more clicking. The rain seems to have stopped. You can’t feel it falling onto your skin or the asphalt scraping against your torn clothes.

Are you… dead? 

If you are, why do your knees hurt so much? 

You crack your eyes open to find yourself staring up at the pitch-black sky lit by a perfectly circular moon. 

Something white flutters in the periphery of your vision. A white… flag? No, it’s a long flowing white cape that hovers over your body. 

Marc! 

Or… is it? 

Something’s different. 

Tracing the cape upwards, it takes your frazzled brain a second to register what’s changed. This mummy is missing bodyparts! Or… no. His costume is just a different colour. Solid black ink runs up his legs instead of the white bandages that were there before, masking his outline against the black sky above.. 

Is this someone else?

You crane your neck towards where you last saw Marc’s body lying on the pavement, but he’s not there any longer.

This must him, then. 

…Isn’t it?

He’s standing hunched over empty air, a vicious brutality emanating from his entire body that wasn’t there before as he delivers repeated bone-shattering punches to…. nothing. His fists sink into the space that you know isn’t really empty. You can hear the impacts now, even if you still can’t see the creature. The dull wet thud of knuckles connecting with flesh over and over and over again, with almost mechanical precision.

With each blow the same hellish scream you heard earlier rings in the air, but it’s growing weaker, soggier each time until finally it fades all together. And the stomach twisting crunch of bones breaking grows ever louder as his fists sink deeper and deeper into the invisible mass. 

Then, finally, silence falls.

Squinting your eyes open—when did you close them?—the first thing you see is his silhouette standing some feet away from you. Right where you last saw him, but he’s standing upright now, towering over you and what’s left of the creature, a now semi translucent mass that glints wetly.

There’s an unsettling calmness to him as he takes a step back, head tilted to the side as his eyes narrow, observing the thing with disdain. One leg lifts, rising above the ground, poised like an executioner’s axe… and then falls.

The creature isn't making any sounds anymore, not even a whimper when that foot comes down,  delivering an earth-shattering stomp that shakes the ground beneath you. 

There is only a stomach-churning, pulp-crunching sound, of something moist-yet-solid being torn through. You clamp your eyes shut, stomach roiling, trying not to think about what is there that you can’t see. Instead you imagine he’s stepping on a bag of rotten fruit. Repeatedly.

You don’t dare to open your eyes again until everything goes quiet. 

But the horror of the moment isn’t quite over yet. He stands still in the same spot, unmoving. His shoulders squared but loose as he stares at the place the creature had been with a disdainful sneer on his features, eyes flat and blank. He eyes it like he’s inspecting a squashed cockroach stuck to the bottom of his shoe. 

The hairs on the back of your neck are still standing on end. Your body is screaming out to you that the danger hasn’t passed. Something even more dangerous is standing before you. The scene plays out like some twisted nature documentary where a rabid bear was just ripped apart by a monstrous wolf. 

Marc tips his head to stare up at the night sky. Something changes. The whole of his body seizes, shoulders pulled taut, head thrown back like he’s being yanked up by invisible puppet strings. 

The linen covering his body slithers down his limbs like receding snakes. Every inch of the primordial gauze disintegrates into dust and smoke, giving way to the much more familiar tight jeans, form-fitting t-shirt, and loose jacket. 

As if finally satiated, whatever force had its hooks in him relinquishes control, and he slumps forward, feet still firmly grounded to the asphalt, and opens his eyes. 

And then Marc is back. You think… 

Marc seems disoriented at first, breathing erratically. His body language is a stark contrast to the one he held mere moments ago, as though the calm callousness has disintegrated with the mummified gauze. Now he’s hunched over, tense, and appears confused, eyes darting around the alleyway until they land on you, still flat on your ass on the concrete ground.

His eyes stay on you as he covers the distance between you in three great strides, his footfalls skidding along the rain-slick concrete before he falls to his knees beside you. You turn your head, trying to look behind you to observe all the damage, but Marc cups your face in his hand before you can see anything. 

“Hey. Hey, you look at me,” he says, voice rough but hands gentle as he smooths your hair back from your face. His eyes search your face frantically for a long moment. It must eventually penetrate that you’re all right because the panic in his eyes finally melts into relief, and seems to spread to the rest of him. The harsh line between his brows relaxes  slightly, and he lets out a long breath, the tight line of his shoulders softening. 

Then he’s cupping the back of your head in one hand, and hauling you into his chest, and holding you there, pressed tight against him.  It makes it hard to breathe, your face mashed up against his firm chest, nose and mouth partially buried in his shirt and jacket, but you only want to press closer, have him hold you tighter, for as long as he possibly can, even if it chokes the breath out of you.

“It’s okay,” he says after a long moment, “You’re okay. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

You’re not sure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself. 

His voice is gentle and comforting as he rests a firm hand on the small of your back and keeps it there. His eyes are soft now, no longer cold and blank, even if they do look sad. 

“You’re safe,” he tells you.  

It’s not until he says it that it finally sinks in. The rigid muscles in you melt. Your heightened survival instincts dim, your body finally willing to accept that the danger has passed. 

His grip around you loosens, and the palm of his hand roams over the top of your shoulder, fingers resting on the pulse of your neck, before ghosting under the place that stings and smarts on your cheek. There’s a tremor to his touch, but he’s still meticulous as his hands run gently down your arms, across your back, stomach, and ribs, inspecting you for injuries, and cataloguing the location and gravity of each.   

A long time passes before Marc is satisfied and finished with his examination. Then he lets you go and leans back, shimmying off his jacket—the very one you’d been haunted by when he lent it to you once before—and settles it around your shoulders. Residual heat from his body still lingers in the fabric, instantly warming you and making you aware of just how cold you were before.

You stare up at him, through the rain as the pale moonlight shimmers off the droplets of water caught in his hair. The familiarity of it makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest. Once again the two of you find yourselves in the middle of the rain with Marc’s jacket wrapped around you. It’s a deja-vu you wish you can relive a thousand times over. 

“C’mon,” Marc says, holding out a hand and helping you to your feet, “Let’s get you home.” 

To be continued...

Dedicated to @thirstworldproblemss because I am just very happy I have a friend like her in my life and that I get to share this story together with her.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

[norrisainz33]

the call pt4 || gr63 & platonic grid

☆ summary: y/n finishes out the season and gets some big news

☆ pairing: driver!reader x george russell

☆ fc & warnings: suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

drivergirly posted to their story 🔒

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muppet4: now imma hold your hand when i say this…. none of us care how hungover you are. we need other details

drivergirly: well thats rude... don't even care about my wellbeing?

muppet4: don't put words in my mouth! i care i just care more about what happened with a certain british driver whos name rhymes with peorge mussell

drivergirly: call me 😔

yourbffpriv: oh! so you'll post this but not answer your whatsapp?

drivergirly: pls bestie this morning was a whirlwind! we left the hotel and essentially ran to the airport bc we have to be in qatar asap

yourbffpriv: blah blah blah call me now

sirlancelot: drinking isnt the only thing you did in vegas it seems

drivergirly: LANCE .. you right tho 🤭

sirlancelot: gross

sirlancelot: but it’s about time. you two have liked each other for too long

drivergirly: wait you knew he liked me?

sirlancelot: ………. not until recently

drivergirly: lance???????? what????

sirlancelot: he confronted me not long after i was caught coming out of your drivers room and went off all crazy and george like. he was going a mile a minute abt how he hopes i treat you right and that he hopes i actually like you for you bc ur so great and blah blah blah and i had to stop him and tell him you and i are just friends and that you may as well be my sister and then he got super embarrassed and told me he liked you

drivergirly: omg i can’t believe you didn’t tell me this ??? FAKE

sirlancelot: i promised him i wouldn’t and you know im a man of my word

drivergirly: ugh true

faxmewtrell: what happens in vegas doesnt stay in vegas y/n/n

drivergirly: clearly.... thanks for the reminder maxie!

kikakiks: i am offended that i found out through gossip pages and not from you?!?!?!!?!?!?!!?

drivergirly: im offended that the gossip pages got all those pictures that quickly BUT i was going to tell you at dinner tonight!!!

kikakikas: they’re shockingly quick! i’ll be on the edge of my seat till dinner

grussellsprout: hopefully the drinking is the only thing you regret about last night....

drivergirly: george i've wanted that to happen for years. i regret nothing

grussellsprout: i’m glad because i don’t either. in fact id love for it to happen more

drivergirly: me too

gaslyyyyyy: spill the tea NOW

drivergirly: ill spill over dinner in qatar tonight with you and kika dw

ynuser has made a post

liked by pierregasly, lance_stroll, landonorris, alpinef1team, carlossainz55, and 543,294 others

ynuser: tough luck but at least i looked good doing it. on to abu dhabi!

view all comments

alpinef1team: we keep pushing 💪🏻

user2: if y’all don’t announce her as a driver for next season im gonna sue

user4: where is the announcement!!!

user5: hottest person on the grid hands down

georgerussell63: abu dhabi will be good to you 🙌🏻

ynuser: oh i hope so!

user62: 👀 we alll saw that f1gossip post

user12: turn 1 incident wasn’t your fault y/n/n

pierregasly: yassss marina here we come

ynuser: let’s go girls 👏🏻

user19: brutal race but i know you are so much better than that!

user22: we love you y/n/n!

✿

“thanks for meeting with us today, y/n.” your team principal said sitting back in his chair. the room was filled with your entire engineering team, your manager, and just about every alpine pr employee that they had. when oakes had called this meeting you knew it could be about one of two things - either how they were going to drop you before you could step foot in the car in abu dhabi or they had a contract for you to most likely be someone’s reserve driver and as much as you wanted to believe it was the later… you felt is was more likely you were getting dropped with nothing to fall back on.

“of course! happy to.” you forced out with a smile.

“relax y/n.” oakes said gently, “i’ve got some good news for you. we’ve decided we’d like you to race for us in 2025.” he handed your manager a stack of papers that you could only assume was the contract, “i trust you will review our offer in detail but we would really like to keep you around, y/n. we as a team think there is a lot of potential to fight for podiums and points with you as our second driver alongside pierre.”

“we’ll carefully review your offer and get back to you within the day.” your manager said calmly. though you already knew as long as there wasn’t anything insane in that contract that you’d be accepting everything they had to offer.

you left the alpine hospitality feeling invigorated and on top of the world, you whipped out your phone and texted the first person you wanted to share your joy with - george.

✿

✿

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, and 12,836 others

f1gossip: based off these story posts from y/n (left) and george (right) … one might think the pair are on a date in abu dhabi. this comes after they sparked dating rumors following the vegas gp where celebrations seemed to take an intimate turn for the duo.

view all comments

user3: oh yeah this is a date

user4: sorry for the confusion guys she was actually on a date with me

user12: step aside george.. i got this 🫷😔🫸

user1: maybe they’re just good friends guys pls let’s not be weird

user3: user1 did you not see the video of them making out on the dance floor 😂

user1: well…….. no

user18: am i the only one who didn’t want her to end up w another driver

user2: yes

user4: uhhh yup

user19: i want both! oh wait sorry what was the question

user29: george! you have been promoted!

ynuser has made a post

liked by pierregasly, f1, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, landonorris, alex_albon, and 789,355 others

ynuser: elated to announce that i’ll be driving for alpine in 2025! dreams continue to come true and i am forever grateful for these opportunities. looking forward to seeing you in australia 🩷🥹

view all comments

user1: my shayla!!!!!

lance_stroll: incredible news! looking forward to racing with you more 🤍

ynuser: looking forward to it as well. see you on the slopes soon my friend 🫶🏻

user3: best news eVER. made my entire day

pierregasly: here’s to an entire season full of late night snack runs, laughing so hard you pee your pants (again), play dates with simba, opportunities to steal my gf and many more points. je t'aime mon ami 🩷

ynuser: i’m crying no one look at me

yukitsunoda0511: replacing me pierre?

francisca.cgomes: i shed a tear im ngl

user4: the best friendship in all of sports. imma need alpine to not mess this up

landonorris: looking forward to more battles on track my muppet

ynuser: more battles on and off track like in padel

user24: it’s not lost on me how much every driver loves y/n

georgerussell63: forever proud to race alongside you gorgeous

ynuser: likewise

user63: GORGEOUS???? are yall clocking this??

user22: oh my god

user18: feeling very very parasocial about this

✿

george let out a boisterous laugh as the snow gently tapped against the window of your chalet. with your legs draped across his and his hand gently resting on your knee, you couldn’t help but smile. it had become a yearly tradition for you, george, lance, lando and max f to go skiing at the end of the season and this year, pierre and kika were joining. for the first time in a long time - everything just felt right.

"last time we were here i was still in f2," you recalled and that last time felt like a eternity ago even though it had only been 12 quick months.

"a lot has changed," george replied, tracing his finger around your knee causing a shiver to go up your spine.

"just about everything has. i mean i'm an f1 driver with a full blown seat and well... us.."

george smirked looking up at you, "us?"

you rolled your eyes, "yes. i mean we aren't exactly just friends anymore unless of course thats what you think we are."

"no y/n - i don't think we are just friends anymore." george grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. "in fact, i've been meaning to ask you something." he brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and said, "do you want to make things official?"

your heart skipped a beat, "yes." and without another word, you kissed him.

✿

ynuser has made a post

[tagged: georgerussell63, lance_stroll, landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourbff, francisca.cgomes and pierregasly]

liked by yourbff, landonorris, alpinef1team, ruben_diaz, erlinghaaland, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and 984,139 others

ynuser: winter break tradition lives on 🎿 🤍

p.s. pls don’t tell 8 year old me that she’s dating her biggest opp (that big headed diva in the last 2 slides)

view all comments

user2: oh my god

user1: big headed diva i’m screaming

landonorris: i can confirm 8 year old you did try to bribe me into bullying george off the track tho 9 year old you was asking me to ask him if he had a crush on you so……

lance_stroll: 10 year old y/n was asking me to ask george the same thing

maxfewtrell: i think 11 year old y/n was the one who paid me twenty quid to ask george out for her

alex_albon: don’t worry 17 year old george was asking me if i thought y/n liked him

lewishamilton: can confirm george from a couple months ago was also asking people if they thought y/n liked him

ynuser: i might have to block all of you

georgerussell63: whelp this is embarrassing

user33: i stood up and applauded in my living room

georgerussell63: my girl 🤩❤️

ynuser: my man 😘

alpinef1team: glad to see you enjoying break 🩷

iamrebeccad: pretty girl

user43: my roman empire

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: it took me an eternity to finish this final part. i hope you all enjoy!! likes and reblogs appreciated as always 🤍

tag list from first 3 parts: @yawn-zi @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @divagreymare @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ferakillia @stressed-cherry @sassyangel16 @mxdi0 @awritingtree @danielricciardoslut3 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @seasonswinter @rawr-123s-stuff @grussellsprout @belncaldern @ellelabelle @tall-tanned-tattoo @chelseyyouraverageluigi @tellybearryyyy @wosof1 @poppysrin @lanadetails @freyathehuntress @evie-119

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[temiizpalace]

hiiii!! omg this is exciting ^^ can I request prompt 4 for Azul and Jamil?? Jamil normally offers Yuu their hoodies, then for some reason Azul started to let Yuu borrow the coat he wears from his Octavinelle Uniform. But in the end, Yuu ends up with Jamil, he told Yuu that now they're in a relationship, they're probably going to own almost all his hoodies now doenksnwksnwksjekd head empty, just this request.

Have a great day!!!

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (🐍 vs. 🐙)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: jamil viper vs. azul ashengrotto

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: determined end couple, jealousy, small azul angst near end?

NOTES: i knew id see this duo at least once!! tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

jamil felt sick.

not literally, thankfully, but horrible enough to feel like he had just gotten a disease. is this happening? seriously? you, in an octavinelle coat. more specifically, azul’s coat. disgusting. he can’t believe his very eyes. why?! and just as he was about to ask if you needed to wear his sweater.

as a very very platonic exchange between two very good friends, you have been wearing jamil’s sweaters during the colder seasons. not like he cares or anything. (he does, he’s literally the one to offer it) however, seeing you in someone else’s clothes? and azul’s nonetheless? do you hate him??? as much as he wanted to run over to you, toss the coat off the window and immediately give you his own sweater to wear instead, jamil would rather die than make such a scene.

he can think of a few.. others.. that would do something so rash, but not him. no, no. he’s seen countless things he never liked to see before! surely this is the same, right?

“jamil! good morning!” you smile, rushing over to him with an enthusiastic wave. “[MC], morning.” he politely greets you in return, eyeing the coat for a second before looking at your eyes. “like my coat? pretty nice, don’tcha think? azul’s letting me borrow it.” you model the coat for him, allowing him to look at every single little detail.

“it’s..” absolutely atrocious. jamil hesitates, biting back any and all comments or remarks he could come up with on the top of his head. he doesn’t wish to insult you! never. the coat itself on the other hand, well.. “..something.” he narrows his eyes, knuckles forming in his hands til they turned pale. “thank you for your sincere input.” you reply sarcastically, already being able to sift through his lie.

“why’re you wearing it?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising a brow. answers. he wants answers. there’s no reason you should be going to azul for anything, so how come? “funny story actually! you see—” “jamil? [MC]?” you both turn your heads to see the refined businessman already on his way towards your direction, jamil unable to hide his obvious annoyance.

“oh, azul! morning.” you wave, unaware to your poor friends furrowed brow. “why, good morning prefect! i see you’re satisfied with the coat?” azul smiles, picking off the lint that was left on your collar. he looks to jamil, taking note of his peeved expression.

“hello, jamil. hanging out with the prefect again, i take it? you know, how about borrowing an octavinelle coat to match with our dear [MC] here? im positive it will look just as good on you as it does on them! our coats are accustomed to keep their subjects nice and warm for the winter seasons.” azul chimes, pulling out a neatly kept contract from his pockets.

“not on your life.” jamil states bluntly, crossing his arms with a pout. “they really do keep you warm though!” you add, much to azul’s delight. “see? i have no ill intentions in the slightest.” the octomer grins, his smile obviously not reaching his eyes. “prefect, i will see you at lunch. we can meet by our usual spot.” jamil sighs, looking at you and now just ignoring his classmate. “oh, okay! see you later then, jamil.”

classes droned on like they usually did. jamil wrote his notes with a focused expression, the thoughts in his head being a complete contrast. small doodles were drawn on the corners of the page, the pencil lead growing duller and duller with each passing minute. stupid octopus bastard.. he sighs, turning to azul wearing a more-than-pleased smile. oh how he wanted to rip that smug grin on his face off and ship him away to a place far, far away from here.

passing period was also no better. azul beat him to the punch, walking you to class like a gentlemen. jamil didn’t fail to notice the boys ears turning red as you laughed, his body language shifting from refined to embarrassed. he fought the urge to bite his nails in anger, leaving that old habit behind him many years ago. a spine chilling aura startles students around him as he walked, his face screaming neutral but his mood nothing but foul.

it’s that damn coat. that damn coat is what’s slowly drifting you away from him, and he cannot allow that. he’ll settle this. once and for all.

jamil awaited your arrival patiently by the tree. his foot tapping aggressively on the concrete as your presence seemed to delay. “sorry im late!” you shout, rushing over with a huff. no. no. no. no. no. no. this was a nightmare. not only were you wearing the coat, but the fedora, scarf, and just the entire octavinelle dorm uniform. “wh-what are you wearing..?” jamil stammers, observing your outfit with pure horror in his eyes.

“agh, azul made me wear it.” you sigh, obviously growing a little too warm in these clothes. it didn’t even snow yet! “this is too much..” he mumbles, removing your hat. slowly, he pulled off each overbearing accessory. he unwrapped the scarf, carefully removed your gloves, and eventually, the coat. “ah, i can take the coat—”

jamil removes his blazer, followed by his sweater. you’d be a liar if you told yourself you weren’t a little bit. seeing jamil in the normal nrc uniform was truly a privilege to say the least. he pulls the sweater over your head and smiles contently. “there. much better.” you hesitate for a moment, feeling your cheeks warm up at his gesture. typically you would put the sweater on yourself, but having someone do it for you? it was different somehow.

“if you’re ever feeling cold, just ask me.” he mumbles, putting his blazer back on while folding the octavinelle clothes neatly. “wow.. sounds like such a romantic gesture.” you joke, nudging his elbow. “could be.” he replies, his tone not holding any of the joking yours previously had. “what..?”

seize every opportunity. “i.. i wouldnt mind if it was.” he mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “is this a confession?” you ask, stepping closer to jamil. he swallows harshly, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “i suppose.” suddenly he misses his hoodie. the blush on his cheeks couldn’t help but form, sweat dripping from his brow at the fear of rejection.

“jamil..” you grab his hand, placing it over your heart with a small smile. “if this is a confession, then i like you too.” you wrap him into an embrace, feeling his heart against your own. it beat rapidly, his palms sweaty before he hesitantly reciprocated your hug.

silence fell between you two for a brief moment, but one of comfort rather than awkwardness. “so.. why were you wearing an octavinelle uniform?” jamil asks, feeling the need to soothe the nagging thought in his head. “oh yeah.. that. azul asked me to wear it to promote the lounge. in return, he said id get a few food vouchers and i get to keep the coat.” you shrug, pulling out the small tickets from the octavinelle coat.

“i see..” jamil nods, still not understanding the rest of the accessories. “well, my hoodies are now your hoodies. look no further than yours truly for warmth in the winter.” he smiles, fixing the collar of the sweater. you laugh at his comment, pushing his bangs out of his face.

azul watched your exchange from afar, feeling his smile falter slightly. “oya? azul, is something the matter?” jade asked calmly, staring at his frowning companion. “..it’s nothing. what were you saying about that seasonal dish?” azul smiles, walking and talking with his vice housewarden for the future of mostro lounge.

in reality, his heart ached. even after all his efforts, he came in last. he couldn’t win your love in time. azul can’t help but want to climb into his octopot and weep. he sounds childish, but how else would you deal with a broken heart? maybe someday, you’ll find your love for him. someday, you’ll be part of his world. someday, he won’t feel so poor and unfortunate. but not today.

A/N: im sorry this was a little late something came up 😭

date published: 8/28/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS part 4 - LN

content warnings: fluff, angst, drama (the whole shabang).

ur girl is going back to working full time tomorrow so if we have slow updates blame my place of work. also, im still recovering from the 4am wakeup and lando p3

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

“max pick up the damn phone,” y/n said, taking great strides across the paddock towards the car park. once again, the phone call had gone to voicemail. she clicked his contact details, ringing him again. only this time, it didn’t even ring. the phone went straight to voicemail. and to add to the matter, max’s car had disappeared from the car park.

y/n sat on the empty floor of the empty parking spot her brothers car had been in, opening up her phone to check the time and send a message to max, she probably should’ve waited for the mix of fear and anger to fade, but here she was, tapping aggressively at the screen of her phone.

if you think you can ignore me forever, you’ve got another thing coming

dont think you can jump to conclusions and throw a childlike strop about this.

but of course, the messages stayed on delivered for hours. it was at least 2 hours before lando’s caller id popped up on her phone, still with no word from max.

“hey, where did you go? mum said something about you walking off,” lando asked her the moment she answered the call.

“currently? i’m sat on the floor of the car park. where are you - ill walk over now,” she said bluntly. he stayed on the line until she entered the mclaren unit.

“y/n? what do you mean max has left?” panic rising in his voice as she walked up to him, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

“i mean he’s left. gone. driven off,” she said with a shrug, “he won’t answer my calls, hasn’t read my texts, he’s just gone.”

“he might be at the hotel? we’ll drive over in a bit and see?”

“i don’t think we should do anything, i think we might have done enough damage for one day.”

“y/n your brother has just driven off. you should at least try and check if he’s at the hotel.”

“fine, but i’m going alone.”

“let me try and talk to him first, you never know something might’ve happened with P?” lando said, still stroking her hips softly, desperately trying to think of any reason that his best friend had up and left.

4 unanswered calls later, and lando and y/n found themselves sat on the sofa in his driving room again, her head laying on her lap as he stroked her hair, trying to resolve the anxiety.

“i don’t care what he thinks, y/n. i feel so strongly about you and i think i have for years.”

“i think i have too. but i hate the thought of people disliking me, let alone my own brother.”

“i know, angel. he’ll come around soon, i promise.”

“that man held a grudge against me for years when i accidentally scraped the side of his kart when i was 12,” she said, laughing sadly at the memory of their parents having to sit them down in the living room and make them apologise to each other. the moment was quickly interrupted by her phone ringing, max’s caller id popping up on the screen.

“ma-”

“no. don’t talk to me. you two have lied to my face for years about this. lando promised me he would never even think about you in that way. and you, i don’t know what ive done to you for you to go behind my back and fuck my best friend but it’s not on.”

“max i-” lando tried to reason with him.

“oh, of course he’s there. just waiting for the moment i left to start fucking my sister, didn’t you?”

“it’s not like that, max.”

“no? then what is it like? ‘cos from where im standing it’s pretty clear he’s been waiting years to take advantage of my little sister,” he argued down the phone, venom rolling off his tongue.

“take advantage of me?” she scoffed, moving to sit up and hold the phone next to her mouth, “who the fuck do you think you are to talk to or about me in that way? who gave you the audacity to believe you have any control over who i choose to date? you couldn’t care less about protecting me, you only care about protecting yourself," she said, her voice raising and her finger moving to point as if he were stood in front of her.

“he’s not right for you.”

“that’s your opinion max. if you can’t trust me, or lando for that matter, then why should i bother giving you a moment more to talk down to me?”

lando sat silently next to her, playing with his own fingers. this was not his fight to fight right now. he’d speak to max privately later, right now, he knew y/n needed to stand up for herself, and god was she smashing it.

“why can’t you just listen to me?” max sighed, defeated, “i know what’s good for yo-”

“go fuck yourself,” she said, hanging up the call, and dropping her phone on the floor besides her. lando’s arms move to behind her waist, pulling her back to rest into him on the sofa. the room fell into silence.

“im sorry,” she mumbled.

“don’t be sorry. this is on him, and me. i should’ve told him the truth the first time round. hell, i should’ve told you the truth earlier.”

“i’ve ruined your big day, lan. p2 - you should be celebrating, not arguing with your best friend.”

“im with you - that’s celebration enough,” he said, happy to see her smile for the first time in hours. she moved to lay her head back down on lando’s lap, this time looking up at him. a knock on the door brought the two of them back to reality, and cisca walked in, adam trailing slightly behind.

y/n contemplated moving, jumping away from the boy who was currently running his hands through her hair, but it had only been 4 hours of hiding whatever was going on between the two of them and she was already bored of keeping up the pretence.

“y/n, love, did you find max?” cisca asked, eyes softening at the scene unfolding in front of her. had she secretly wished for this for years? maybe.

“yea, he um, he went home.”

“he’s not happy about this, is he?” adam said, pointing between the two of you, yet even he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“not happy, fuming, absolutely raging - i guess you could say that,” she replied, laughing slightly to ease any tensions.

“he’ll come around lovely, he can’t stay mad at you. you’re his sister after all.”

“i love that you think so highly of my brother, cisca. he will go to the grave holding this grudge if he can.”

“ill talk to him later ang- y/n,” lando said, correcting himself quickly, not comfortable enough yet to be overly affectionate in front of his parents.

“good luck with that,” y/n joked, patting him on the arm sadly.

later that evening, y/n found herself sat on the floor of lando’s hotel rifling through her bag to find her pyjamas. earlier, her and lando had driven to her hotel room, to find that max had packed his stuff and left as expected. she didn’t want to be alone, and lando didn’t want to leave her alone. her phone began to ring, and she answered it praying it wasn’t max.

“y/n the videos of you are going feral on twitter right now,” her best friend, caitlin, shouted down the phone the moment she picked up.

“stop it - what are people saying?”

“erm, some people think it’s cute?” he friend responded, voice laced in slight worry.

“…and the rest of them think im a slut?” y/n added, but her friend only responded with a hum.

“what’s max said?”

“from what i remember, he drove off leaving me stranded at the track and then rang me to say i was making a mistake, i was a liar and he never wanted to speak to me or lando ever again.”

“taking it well then,” the girl responded, y/n could hear her eyes rolling. at that moment, lando emerged from the bathroom, with just a towel hanging around his waist. any words y/n intended to say got stuck in her throat. he took strides towards her, noticing she was on the phone and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before moving to his own suitcase to find a change of clothes.

“y/n…are you in lando’s room right now?”

“maybe?” y/n responded in a guilty tone, quieter than she had before, glad lando couldn’t hear the girl on the other side of the phone. however, he seemed to clock on to the question from the small grin on her face.

“girl why did you answer the phone? go spend time with your new controversial boyfriend.”

“he’s not my b- you know what, i’m gonna go.”

“dont do anything i wouldn’t do, stay safe!” her friend added cheerily, laughing as she ended the call. cheery was the furthest emotion from what y/n felt at this moment in time.

once y/n was in her pyjamas, she moved her way back into the room, lando was sat up in bed, his back resting on the headboard, phone in hand. he looked up as she walked in, patting the spot next to him for her to join. her face fell into a look that screamed apprehension.

“y/n nothing bad will happen if you get into this bed and cuddle with me.”

“something bad already happened,” she said, climbing under the duvet next to him nonetheless. his hand reached behind her waist pulling her into his chest, her head coming to rest on him.

“im happy this happened, but im not happy about every thing that’s happening as a result," she told him, her eyes blinking slowly as the exhaustion from todays drama caught up with her.

“i know baby,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “get some sleep. we’ll sort this out tomorrow, i promise.”

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream @mehrmonga @eviethetheatrefreak @thatoneembarrasingmoment @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @formula1mount @lottef1 @rayna-s @5starl1ght @cthgee

[space-owl]

Stolas is incredibly classist!

And probably doesn’t realise it.

I already made a short post about it here but I want to go more into detail with all of this.

First I want to show how he is acting with demons that aren’t Goetia and then how his classism even bleeds into the relationship with Blitzø.

Disclaimer: I love Stolas, he is one of my favourite characters of the show! Doesnt mean though I wont critic him for some of the bullshit he is pulling

Stolas is constantly dismissing other demons and looking at all of them from a high angle. We can clearly see it when he interacts with Millie and Moxxie

Just look at his uninterested face too while Moxxie is talking to him

Not to forget he keeps referring to Imps as "little ones“ etc

Of course he is aware of his status sometimes and does use it to get into Ozzies. But he also does it while presenting himself on a higher angle than the poor bouncer in front of the club would’ve needed

Like Stolas you’re already one of the princes of hell, the guy KNOWS who you are! Why are you giving him this look??

He doesn't see any imp or even any demon who is ranked below him as equal. It shows again when he is directly attacked by Striker. Stolas was mostly chill about the situation and not even fully aware he was in danger!

Yes, he brings it up but he isn’t fully convinced of it himself. The first time he REALLY understands he is in big trouble is when he realises that his glare doesn’t work!

I don’t think Stolas doesn’t know what holy rope is. But I do believe that he himself didn’t think an IMP could possess such dangerous equipment!

And what shows it to me the MOST that he really doesnt seem to hold any respect to Imps that aren't Blitzø is this:

How he handles Pringles, the butler of the family!

He literally squeezes him so tightly the poor guy cant get any air anymore!

Just holding him and handling him as if he was an object! Dude is already getting dizzy and Stolas wont let go of him!

Yes I know I suppose this is mostly a visual gag to make the scene more entertaining. We just cant forget that animation is a long process to do. Anything, any action a character does is there for a reason! If Stolas WASN'T a person who wouldnt handle an Imp butler like this, it would'nt be in the scene!

This is already enough proof for me that Stolas is very classist. Its so casual for him and normal that he doesnt even seem to realise it! Why do I think that? Because it bleeds into the relationship with Blitzø!

All the things Stolas keeps saying about Imps, he also says directly to Blitzø.

Calling Blitzø "his little Imp", again just saying Imps are little and "things" to be posessed

Dismissing Blitzø when he tries to get serious, just saying he is cute even though Blitzø is trying to complain

Also the constant cheek pinching, something youd mostly do to a child.

And dont forget the most posessive thing of all of them to say in "Truth Seekers"

"Who dares to threaten my impish little plaything?" (youtube didnt pick up the audio here so no automatic subtitles appeared (holy shit im so thankful season 2 finally has proper subtitles!))

Stolas literally called Blitzø HIS "plaything", also pointing out the Imp part again.

Id say something like "oh but that was probably just before he got feelings for Blitzø! And then it changed!" I mean even if that was the case it wouldnt make it any better. But no, Stolas literally had a crush on Blitzø the first time he SAW him! Look, this is his literal first reaction:

Stolas always had feelings for Blitzø, but still he keeps downplaying Blitzøs feelings and totally ignores the class thing. Because he himself is already in a higher class! So he can just pick and choose which Imp he respects and which he doesnt.

Worst of all of this is that as a child Stolas was a LOT more open about those things!

Until his father "corrects" him

And Stolas rememberd this statement until his aduldhood. The only exeption he makes to this rule is Blitzø.

And Blitzø of course notices those things. Of course he notices the constant dismiss of Stolas! Being called a "Plaything" and a "little imp!" He is already self conscious enough. And that makes him even more vunerable and hyper aware of those things.

Even though Stolas showed general intersted in him someties, Blitzø already accepted himself as his little tool.

Moxxie even brings it up to Blitzø, obviously playing to Stolas feelings for him.

But Blitzø immediately thinks its still just about something sexual. And nothing else.

Because he cant see himself being anything else to Stolas than just a plaything. It doesnt matter how often Stolas was honest with him and showed interest. His constant belitteling and downplaying on him and also any other Imp that happens to be present while Blitzø is with him is enough.

With ALL of that context, its totally clear why Blitzø lashed out at Stolas in Full Moon. For him this confession came out of nowhere. He didnt have time to breathe or understand what was really going on there. And Stolas himself keeps ignoring their class difference and has 0 self reflection on that part so far, not getting why this is so upsetting to Blitzø.

"Blitzø, I think so very highly of you. I didnt realize you think so low of me!"

GEE STOLAS! I WONDER WHY BLITZØ DOES SO!

[bratphilia]

would it be a bother to ask for a fic w a tomboy reader and william afton? ive been on such a kick w william afton x reader fics here since i watched the movie and i love all of them but i am not feminine in the slightest so if you could write one id be so grateful!! and age gap and size difference too would also be sooo 👌👌👌. thank you so much!!!

note ✧.*‎ this was a lil hard for me to write considering im on the girly-er side so if anything looks weird in relation to the premise i apologize in advance!! also so sorry for getting this out a lil later than promised.

pairing ✧.*‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎ age difference (reader is 18-21, william is 45-50), degrading, spanking, approximately two slaps to the face, blow jobs, rubbing through jeans? idk what to call that, coming in pants (fem)

taglist ✧.*‎ @dilfity

synopsis ✧.*‎ while attending yet another meeting with your career counsellor, he has a few choice of words for you.

jeans (w. afton x reader)

you sit in mr. raglan's office, trying to sit straight up, legs crossed, not bouncing. he slightly shifts in his chair as he reads your file, moving his spinning chair from side to side, as he mentally scrutinizes your report. it's nerve-wracking. anyone in your shoes would feel this way, but the way he's intently reading over every little detail makes you squirm.

the worst part is, this isn't even the first time you've been in this exact position. it wouldn't be so bad if mr. raglan wasn't such a hard ass on you. always practically demanding answers of why you keep getting let go from the jobs he gives you, criticizing the tiniest details. nothing gets passed this guy, and yet here you are.

(there's something that almost riles you up about the way he talks to you, though. he has a habit of talking with those big hands of his in a way that makes your insides twist.)

"so you sit here in front of me..." he pipes up suddenly, looking at you then lifting a brow, "wearing jeans to a meeting, for christ sake, asking for yet another job, so what? you can get 'let go' again?"

"well, yes," you say, a little dumbstruck at his comment on your attire.

mr. raglan laughs shortly. "i got news for you, kid. people with your kinda track record don't exactly find jobs as easy as you think they do."

you hold back from rolling your eyes. your fists clench at your side angrily. you speak through gritted teeth, "look, i just need a job. i'll take anything, i'm desperate."

"hate to break it to you, but things just don't work like that—"

you've had it. "will you just stop being such an asshole and give me my damn options already?! i didn't come here to be lectured."

you're seething, breathless from your outburst. your heart is pounding but nothing can beat the jaw-slacked look on his face. there's a deafening silence that has you on the edge of your seat. then, shortly, "you come here for advice, and i'm giving it to you."

you want to say something again, you open your mouth to do so, but he raises a hand to silence you promptly. "you said you're desperate, hm? want my real, useful advice?"

you stare at him, not liking the direction of this conversation or his weirdly tone of dripping malice. "get the fuck on your knees then."

it's hot, you'll admit it. and he's the whole package too, total dad-i'd-like-to-fuck and all. this isn't your type of deal, but if he's gonna offer it to you, fuck it, you'll take it. you'll take everything this man gives you. "mr. raglan—" you say, purposefully furrowing your brows, trying to act scandalized for godsake—

"get your ass over here," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

you shut up, perking up at that, and make way to the open space between his legs. "look at you, you degenerate thing. on your knees for such a cause."

your head swims and the buzzing between your thighs becomes far too apparent to be ignored. but you're willing to wait for that relief. you part your lips expectantly, hoping he'd get the message to undo his pants and he just laughs at you. "filthy fucking thing wants my cock in her mouth so bad."

"uh-huh," you say, mouth still open.

he does away with all the restraints and guides his cock into your mouth. eagerly, you take him and lick up the underside of his dick, eliciting a groan from him. he makes a fist around your hair and guides your mouth up and down his cock, not caring about what you can and can't take and you fucking love it.

the noises of him hitting your gag reflex is music to the mouth of your ears. the way you push him out only for him to slide back in is truly a marvel. and the grunts, groaning, and degradations that come from him makes you want to take him even faster, more than what your body can handle, and he just laughs it off, commenting on much of an "eager, filthy thing" you are.

when you feel his helping hands thrust your mouth more erratically is when he decides to pull you off. he uses your hair to stand you up and practically shove you against the desk, back facing towards him. you yelp in pain, only adding to the ache in your stomach. he stands to his full height and you gulp. fuck, he's so much bigger than you, of course he can just throw you around like that. when you ask him if you should remove your clothes, he pauses for a moment, thinking. then, mischievously, "no, i want to make good use of those jeans."

curiously, you look back at him, but his fingers are pressing against your clothed pussy. he presses hard, letting the fabric grind on you. "oh, fuck," you moan.

"yeah? you like that?" he asks gruffly, rubbing your clit through your pants from side to side. usually this stimulation wouldn't be enough, but fuck you were so hot for him that you didn't care. "fuckin' dressed like a boy," he scoffs.

tears burn in your eyes, partly from his words, the other part from the stimulation. then he slaps you across the face. "i asked you a fucking question."

"yes!" you cry, moving a hand to rub at your stinging cheek. he grabs your hand and then slaps the other side of your face, just for fun. a few tears slip down your face at his physicality, but doesn't change that fact that you, "love it so much!"

"think you deserve to come?" he asks. "after that shit you pulled. you think you deserve it?"

you sniffle, knowing damn well what his answer's going to be. "well, i don't."

he removes his hands then promptly wipes them on his pants. you sob out, grasping for his hands but he pushes off of you. "you better come back with a better attitude if you expect anything more than what i gave you."

[mazzystar24]

actually the hospital wing joke is starting to bother me a lot more because buck actually fucking died 😭and he didnt even change clothes from being at the hospital all day why would you say that to someone. ik it was a fakeout but bobby looked like he was fr coding on the table. and like just a couple weeks before chimney almost died?? like im sorry i only accept those kinda jokes from people who have known me for years and even then they can be a little upsetting.

thats the thing though!!!! id be perfectly fine with buck and tommy if they gave us more than actual crumbs. 709 felt like buck had more chemistry with ravi in the same scene that tommy was in! they’re supposed to be dating so why do they feel like colleagues? and why are the more emotional and vulnerable scenes getting given to EDDIE if they want me to support buck and tommy as a couple? why wasnt tommy at the hospital with them considering he’s said multiple times he wishes he had a family like the 118 does? why are the only times hes on screen now only establishing his jealousy and that gerrard exists? is that the only reason why hes still here?

actually i wanna get back to 706. it wouldve been so easy to keep tommy there but they wrote him out of most of the episode 😭 he couldve said for the bachelor party! he couldve helped them find chimney! he couldve done literally ANYTHING. chimney was confused as hell as to why he even showed up at the wedding at all 😭 but no!!! they had him show up, ignore what buck wanted, then leave so we could have buck and eddie performing their drunk mating rituals or whatever 🤸‍♂️ but yeah buddie who?

also im never letting go of the wedding singer comment btw because what was that. why did they make tommy reference a movie where the two leads in the ROMANTIC COMEDY start the story dating the wrong people. i feel insane about it actually. also him calling buck evan will forever confuse me until we get an actual acknowledgement in canon because literally why

and the humor falls so flat but eddie has the same type of humor and it never does. he was making fun of buck in 706 (the making chimneys wedding about him line) but it never actually felt serious to me?

anyway sorry for yelling in your inbox i have a lot of mixed emotions about this season -birthmark anon

Yes totally get that like I’m the same like me and my best friend will be saying downright horrendous trauma jokes to eachother that make people around us clutch their pearls but I feel like it takes a certain level of rapport to get to trauma joke level - ig not everyone is the same when it comes to that but I think that again the writers absolutely failed to give us enough bucktommy scenes that justify having this kinda line

AGHSKF NOT THE BUCK /RAVI AHJDKFKF 😭😭😭 THIS IS ESPECIALLY FUNNY WHEN YOU SEE THE BUCKTOMMY SCENE AT THE CEREMONY VS THOSE BUCKLEY DIAZ FAMILY STILLS (still bitter the scene got cut) like someone explain to me why the actual couple is coming across less couple-y

ALSO FR THO THE SARDONIC ENERGY IS JUST NOT BEING BALANCED RIGHT like it’s coming across more 🧍

Like i can’t remember who I was talking to the other day but I was saying like this 🧍emoji just embodies Tommy to me

EXACTLYYYYY LIKE PURELY UNHINGED TO HAVE SUCH AN EMOTIONAL EPISODE AND MAKE NO EFFORT TO USE THOSE EMOTIONAL BEATS TO DEVELOP THEIR DYNAMIC BUT INSTEAD CONTRAST THAT WITH THE VULNERABILITY BETWEEN BUCK AND EDDIE THIS EPISODE

AHSJKF we going back to 7x06 and that’s so valid of us AGSJKF DRUNK MATING RITUALS AHJDKFKF STOP IM CACKLING

THE WEDDING SINGER COMMENT HAUNTS ME ISTG BECAUSE EVERY NOW AND THEN ILL REMEMBER THIS COSTUME DETAIL AND WAKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT:

THE CALLING HIM EVAN THING I LEGIT MADE LIKE THREE THEORIES ON RANGING FROM POSITIVITY TO NEGATIVITY

YES ABOUT THE HUMOUR like there just isn’t that balance or lightness to even the joke out, like I’m a big dry humour and sarcastic girlie but it’s just not being delivered right in a way idk if it’s the writing or the acting or just the fact its most his very small screentime but it’s just falling flat to me

Never apologise for yelling in my inbox babe and same for the mixed emotions

Love ya birthmark anon byee 🫶🫶

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Could you talk about the designs Viv makes? I don't see many posts talking about this and I wanted some design tips, I intend to post my own cartoon designs (I just don't know when) and I wanted some tips <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

Hey hey!! Id love to talk about designs!

I actually answered this entire question and then uh…. Tumblr deleted my draft so let me try to redo all this lmao

Vivzie has a problem with bodytypes I’ve noticed. Almost all of her cast is insanely skinny and the only two “plus-size” characters I can think of are Millie and Mimzy. Meanwhile, Angel Dust, Vox, Stolas, & Alastor are a few very skinny characters I can think of off the top of my head.

For the best example, I’m going to be using Vox for now. Here is my Vox design next to his canon appearance

They don’t look too different right? This is still easily identifiable as Vox because his main characteristics are there; stupid little hat, tv head, thats about it.

My design also keeps elements of his suit with the stripes and shoulder pads, though in my design his body is a bit wider and his shoulders + waist make him look more commanding and intimidating while still maintaining a sense of professionalism. As for his canon design, he definitely looks sketchy, but he doesn’t really give me that commanding sense of popularity or authority that I feel an overlord should have, especially one with such a wide range of influence as Vox. His canon design looks top heavy and a little pathetic in that “he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone” way. Don’t get me wrong, a small waist can do wonders for a design, but when your designs start to look like… this

I think you might have a problem.

Now, I know I am nowhere near the best character designer in the world, but I have designed my fair share and I think I have enough experience to flatter myself a little.

This is a very simple design choice to make. Body types are probably some of the most intricate and interesting parts of a person in my opinion, and with a lineup like this where everyone looks more or lest the same from the torso down, it’s kind of a dead and sad looking cast, and not in the intended way.

I’m aware my designs are very detailed and wouldn’t be easy to animate with my style, but it’s very easy to draw extra body types with a style fit for TV.

Gravity Falls is a great example of stylised bodies and also using them to build personality. By looking at these characters you can generally tell what their base personality is probably like right? You can do the same thing to an extent with the Hazbin Cast, but all of their designs get muddled into the other. Can you even tell where half of these people are positioned in this screenshot

It’s so pink and red im going to start seeing green when I look away. There are so many colours, use them!!!! You can still slap a red overlay over it and make it “look like hell” or whatever, but you’re still gonna have more variety.

Here’s my body/fur references for Angel and Husk. They are almost entirely opposite to eachother but you can probably get an idea for how they are based on colour and shape. I recommend studying other TV shows and things like anime or movies to see how body types and colours impact character design, but general things I always think of are, like I’ve said, body type, personality, colour, and silhouette. Silhouette is a bit harder to pin since a character can have a very recognizable silhouette and still not be a good design, but honestly to me as long as you can tell which character is which from silhouette you’re good to go on that front.

- Generally just don’t reuse the same colour palette over and over (heres some of my hazbin colours)

- Give diversity in shapes when you can and when it benefits the design

- Try to show their personality through their clothes and pose

- Don’t be afraid to add little physical or personality details that other people might not notice, a good design should keep you interested in tiny details like that or surprise you later on

- Pay attention to what would and wouldn’t make sense (ex. A character that doesn’t like modern fashion wearing modern fashion)

Im not the best at explaining all of this but I hope you could grasp even just a tiny bit of an idea from this! At the end of the day as long as you’re having fun and not actively harming people with the designs then you should be good to go

[astonmartinii]

F1 ASKS!

i saw this tag floating around and wanted to let yall get to know me better since i’ve been doing this a while and have only really spoken in the form of authors notes! also im not going to tag anyone so just do it if you wanna!

who is your favourite driver?

i think for anyone who has read anything i’ve ever written it’s probably a bit obvious but max verstappen! what can i say little me was told we’re supporting red bull and here was this little charmer (emphasis on little who let that child get into an F1 car)

do you have other favourite drivers?

also based on my writing you can probably tell that my top three are max, charles and oscar! however, i will also say that alex is a close fourth for me (he’s also very nice irl). also as for retired drivers i think the mamma mia series is a bit of a spoiler but i love jenson, seb and kimi

who is your least favourite driver?

i used to say i didn’t dislike anyone on the grid - that was a lie. i’ll still write for anyone within reason but you can also probably tell with how in detail the back and forth is on certain pieces that i am really not a fan of sainz, actually people who get yelled at while i write them would argue it’s more than “not really being a fan of” but i am fake and i have maintained that if i meet him at silverstone (which i very nearly did last year) ill tell him im his biggest fan! also not the biggest fan of like pierre he’s just kinda there for me and a wee bit too cringey ALSO what you may not be able to guess from how i write him… im not really a fan of lando! ive really, really tried especially after his win but he just kinda rubs me the wrong way (i was immediately proven right with the trump comments lol). people say i should pull for him cause he’s from bristol which is where i live but he’s from glastonbury babe - also ive done a few swimming competitions at the school he went to a WOAH baby has so much money.

do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

i mostly pull for drivers but like i guess i like red bull? well i did. i love max so i would follow him everywhere but i did like red bull as well as a team (i like alex, danny and checo so that also helps) but this whole protection of christian horner shtick is really disappointing so id say im a driver person.

if you like teams, who do you pull for?

like i said red bull were the team id pick if i HAD to follow a team - i support chelsea so i cant handle even more disappointment if i followed ferrari and also i only like charles there and they’re the source of all of his misfortune so …

how long have you been into F1?

so my family has always been into F1, my cousin karts and my uncle is a mechanic and makes karts on the side but i had always been more into football cause i could actually go to that with my dad - and also for young me who didn’t know what the fuck a strategy was it seemed kinda boring. but i’d say from maybe 2016ish i started watching it more regularly (hence the max stanship). my mum loves it and her first love in the sport was mark webber which is why we like red bull. but yeah i remember watching max’s first win and was like MUM I WANT THAT ONE (and i have technically met him? idk we made eye contact when his taxi nearly ran over my foot)

what got you into F1?

my mum! i love her and she’s just as much a passionate fan (and hater when appropriate) so it’s a nice thing to do together - especially because me and my dad are season ticket holders at chelsea so spend a lot of time together doing that so this is like my sport time with my mum (along with the olympics that’s our shit we’re very excited for the swimming). so i guess it was being around her watching it and listening to her and my dad argue about it! my mum is an ardent seb supporter and my dad is like a twitter account away from being in teamLH so canada 2018 (2019?) was VERY entertaining. also my uncle loves it so he likes that im proper into it (like have a sports journalism degree) and so we always chat about it - he’s trying to recruit me into motogp next

do you enjoy fanfic/RPF?

i mean i’ve written so much i must love it. lol jokes i do enjoy it and i feel like it helps me like people more (case in point: when i was trying to make myself enjoy the lando win i just read my own fics of him LOL)

but also its something fun to do that’s also creative and has helped me make new friends from all over

how do you view new fans?

ugh i hate the hate new fans get like not everyone can be born into loving a sport? if anything the more people that watch and love the sport the more money it’ll make? idk this whole superiority complex some fans have is just so unneeded for the sport and we all know why is majorly directed at girls. i do fear that some of the new fan behaviours could border on worrying - waiting outside hotels and ambushing drivers is stalking actually!

but overall im always happy to have new people in a sport - a bigger community is always good and new fans bring new perspectives which is good as older fans may just be desensitised to “normal” things in the sport but new eyes can remind them - hey halos are the best thing to happen to F1 and red flags in heavy rain are necessary.

if you could take over as any team principal for any team who would it be and why?

i know i previously dunked on ferrari but there needs to be an intervention because my girly max already has three championships and i need charles to get at least one so i can die happy - then ill move to mclaren, kick zak brown up the ass get a piastri championship and bounce (honourary race with willams or whatever team alex is with cause i need all three 2019 rookies to be race winners)

are your friends and family into F1 as well?

i feel like my other answers answered this but yeah! i also recently reconnected with an old primary school friend who is also really into it. i went to a sports uni so basically everyone there liked it as well (which means me and a friend did trek to the F1 arcade at 4am to watch aus 23 where she had a public meltdown over sainz (i enjoyed it)). also ive made a couple friends through working at races!

are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?

i always am! i am a year out of uni and working from home with all my home friends still at uni after taking gap years so i am big time lonely so always feel free to slide into my messages!

[transfemme-shelterdog]

CW: exorsexism, transandrophobia, slurs, brief un detailed mentions and hints to SA, mentions of sex

This is going to be a VERY long anon, i apologize a thousand times, I am very long spoken and wrote about things ive experienced in the last decade of being trans. If anyone is going to respond to this please do so with compassion, not just towards me but to the people I mention, particularly my gfs. Im going to write about some very unhappy moments and i wont be accounting all the very happy moments I shared with these people. I want the take away from this to be “we should do something about the rampant transandrophobia and exorsexism in the community” and not “wow you sound unhappy, break up with ur gf”. Please be kind:

Im very hesitant to send in a transandrophobia/anti transmasc testimony for a couple of reasons. Ive sent someone else some anons about some of my situations before and it resulted in that person receiving more anons directed towards ME shaming me for venting about my trans girlfriend online; as well as some people saying rlly terrible things about my gf and telling me to break up with her and what not. In order to send a full testimony Im going to have to discuss some of those things my gf has said/done to me and im scared to do that because Im scared of what people will say again, Im fully aware of how shitty some of her actions have been but I am only talking about specific instances of our relationship, I wont be writing a novel about the rest of our relationship and how good it is otherwise just to convince strangers on the internet that maybe telling me to “kill” my gf is not a nice thing to say to someone.

Anyways, I wanna start at maybe a decade ago- when I first came out. I had heard about trans people before, and I even knew a few youtubers, but they were all trans women so i guess nothing really clicked for me. It wasnt until freshman year of high school, when I physically saw with my own two eyes that one of my classmates was a feminine trans man and it changed my life. About a week later I decided I was also a trans man and coincidentally my best friend AND my sibling also came out as trans. The next 4 years of high school I used a different name and he/him pronouns among my closest friends. Me and my sibling were (surprisingly) allowed to have autonomy over our hair for the first times in our lives and we both got the ftm pixie cut special lmaoo. My sibling got caught w his online gf by my dad and basically was forced to out himself- he tried telling our dad that he was pansexual and genderfluid (now he IDs as transmasc- not fluid anymore) and for the next 2-3 years i had to listen to my dad make fun of and ridicule those identities and go on long anti trans bathroom rants.

I had a few gfs in high school, when my transness wasnt acknowledged, I was known as “the ugly dyke” that was man hating and annoying. When my transness WAS acknowledged, I had boys harassing my gfs telling them Id never be a real man and that shes going to be disappointed with my “future mutilated penis” and that it would never be as good as “the real thing” (mind you I had never and still have never considered phalloplasty). I remember only really being openly trans on the internet and getting sent horrible shit from strangers- one thing that really stands out was when I was bombarded by a gaggle of cis men calling me a tranny and making assumptions about my body and voice- mind you I was only about 14-15 at the time.

I had that stupid ftm pixie cut for only the first 2 years of high school; i was a scrawny kid and a late bloomer in terms of puberty, Im also latino and very short- I wasnt passing as a boy- I was passing as a really off putting ugly brown girl, and I struggled to make friends. After sophomore year I started letting my hair grow, and my transness became more and more secret, I made friends with girls and crushed on them but kept everything about me a secret- scared that they would reject me and treat me like some mutant monster if they knew the truth. I started talking to boys and sometimes getting their attention. The last 2 years of high school is about when Kalvin Garrah and transmedicalism rose to fame, there was A LOT of sentiments going around about how if you were feminine then you couldnt possibly be a trans man- it all really started to confused me. So i kept trying to fit in with the girls, still using a different name and pronouns with my closest friends- but on the outside i was indistinguishable from a girl. I got braces, hit puberty and grew my hair out. Then I really started getting attention from boys. I did a lot of things i regret- touched people i didnt want to touch and let them touch me where I didnt want to be touched.

I watched how people, especially my peers, reacted to and treated trans people. The transmascs in my classrooms were endlessly mocked and made fun of, seen as ugly dykes and their gender was never respected. I was scared. And confused. The following bit of my life is very complex- and kind of specific- im not gonna go into too many details because I want to remain anonymous, but long story short: the rise of transmedicalism, the transphobia I experienced, and the sense of normalcy I gained from “being a girl” led me to socially detransition, I was still questioning whether I might not be cis but after I ended up essentially running away from my dad, i was basically couch surfing for places to live, and being a girl who could attract men made that so much easier. Men offered me places to live in exchange for… well… me. I ended up an 18 year old girl with a 38 year old boyfriend for over a year (there was 2 other bfs - and with each one i went through some really horrible life shaping trauma- but im not gonna go into that bc it doesn’t rlly have anything to do w me being trans and this anon is already a novel).

Eventually, while still living w one of these men; i met my primary gf, who was still “a boy” at the time. I honestly found her annoying at first cause she was just another annoying guy i worked with that would flirt with me relentlessly; but after we talked about some shared interests, and ESPECIALLY after she dropped me a hint that she was actually a woman - she reeaaally piqued my interest. Eventually we got together, and i came out as a lesbian, and she came out as a woman. She told me she wouldnt have started transitioning if it werent for my support. She told me that i made her feel safe and comfortable enough express her femininity (Which made me feel rlly good) but i remember sometimes feeling like I couldnt express too much of my own femininity and that i was getting pushed into more masculine roles in order to give her the experience of being “the girl” of the relationship.

She had a small circle of trans friends- I opened up to all of them about how I used to be a trans man in high school and how my best friend and my brother was trans, so I was regarded as somewhat a part of the community but I remember wanting to join in on conversations about being trans and holding myself back because “wait.. im not trans…” Eventually, after I was given a gender neutral nickname, I tried coming out to them all as nonbinary. I was still figuring it out myself- everything I had ever heard about nonbinary/genderfluid/etc people up until that point was just cis and trans people alike belittling them and making fun of those identities- so it was very new and scary and i was very hesitant to test those waters. My gf and her friends only somewhat acknowledged my enby identity, but continued to use my legal name and she/her pronouns.

Eventually, those anti trans/lgbt bills started rolling out if every state, especially ours. My gf woke up one day to me sobbing about how scared I was for our future- especially her future- the beginning of her transition was hard enough already and now our state wanted us to use certain bathrooms and possibly ban HRT. So we made the decision to move. It wasnt until the day we were driving to our new state where she was cracking jokes about being put in a camp for using she/her pronouns- that i decided to be bold and try to assert my identity. I tried cracking back an attempt at a comforting joke: “dont worry, ill be in here with you- for using any pronouns :)” She looked at me, and rolled her eyes: “tch, dont start with that shit.”

It fucking broke me. It still kinda breaks me now as im reminiscing and writing about it. This was maybe almost two years ago now? This is probably the worst most hurtful thing shes ever said to me- which is strange because weve had arguments where we cussed and yelled at eachother- but this one moment; I cant recall ever feeling THAT broken again. After a brief pause she immediately apologized, said something like “im sorry that was mean, that was my dad talking, dont listen to me” But the damage had been done. In my mind- in her eyes- my gender was a joke, something to be belittled, something not to be taken seriously. It hurt so bad because it had taken me so long to figure this out for myself, and it took so much courage to even crack that fucking joke about using different pronouns for me,all the while she had been telling me she wouldve never found the courage to transition without me just for her turn around and completely invalidate me when I was trying to come out to her- it fucking stung!

“Don’t start with that shit” i think those words might have physically torn my heart a little, i remember literally feeling the pain. I dont remember if it was that night or the next night, but we ended up discussing it, maybe even arguing?? I cant remember it clearly anymore but I know somehow I ended up SOBBING on the bed while she tried comforting me, like the most uncontrollable snot-blubbering sob session youve ever seen. She apologized so many times and she truly seemed remorseful, told me she couldn’t believe shed made me feel so lost and unsupported. I forgave her, and i cant remember if it was that same night or a different argument entirely where she called me by my birth name and i smacked myself so hard in the head that she finally got the message that I didnt want to be called that anymore. I started exclusively using they/them after that.

The following year had its ups and downs, we lived in a house full of other trans and enby people, it was a very special time in my life. I started presenting more androgynously and proudly wore my they/them pin and nonbinary earrings everyday to work. I was lucky enough to work in a queer environment and i had several trans coworkers, however all of my customers, all of my cis coworkers, and even most of my trans coworkers, would CONSTANTLY/always misgender me.

Ever since I was a little ftm in highschool I struggled as seeing myself as masculine- I wasnt feminine like the other girls either, and i definitely felt like an imposter among girls, but I certainly didnt feel like a “man”, and ive never felt particularly masculine. Ive always wanted to be in on “boy” things and “be one of the boys” but stereotypically masculine things didnt really interest me. When I initially came out as enby thats all i wanted to be, just an adrogynous person who does their own thing. But the CONSTANT misgendering from everyone INCLUDING my gf (WHO STILL SOMETIMES SLIPS UP MY PRONOUNS TO THIS DAY!!!!) and even some of my trans roommates made SUUUPPERR dysphoric. I started presenting exclusively masculinely, i had breakdowns about my voice and body until I couldnt take it anymore and basically emergency started HRT.

After starting T, i started identifying as transmasc, not necessarily because my gender felt “masculine-aligned” at the time, and moreso because from a medical standpoint I am transmasculine. I am on masculinizing hormone therapy, I plan on getting top surgery, and Ive considered meta bottom surgery- therefore physically i am transitioning to become more “masculine” in a sense, thus I am transmasc. I was presenting exclusively masculine to make up for my dysphoria, but told myself once the T started kicking in and my voice started dropping and i could see the results, that I would allow myself to feel comfortable expressing my femininity again. It has now been a little over a year since I started HRT, and I still have not allowed myself to present femininely save for a few nights out a bar or kink event (ill get into that in a sec).

Ever since I started T, no matter how many times (which has been a lot of times) Ive reiterated that I am genderfluid, that I have a masculine and a feminine gender, and that I am NOT a man and NEVER wanted to be one, my gf (and literally any person on the internet- queer or not) pretty much just regards me as a trans man. Even tho I am not one. My girlfriend constantly uses he/him/sir/daddy/etc for me. Ive asked her why she does that and even told her im uncomfortable being referred to as “daddy”, and she just says “its easier” (esp within the context of talking to cishet people- she refers to me as her “husband” and only uses mostly he/him instead of they… the cishet people see me and call me “maam” and she/her) and continues calling me whatever she wants.

Ever since I started T she pretty much exclusively wants to bottom when we have sex(were both bottom leaning switches). I practically have to have a breakdown to get her to top me- and even then I feel uncomfortable and i cant enjoy the sex until i flip her over and top her because i feel like im forcing her to do something she doesnt want to do. We are polyamorous and sometimes she tries to hook up with other men, and anytime a man hits her up wanting to bottom, she goes on a semi homophobic rant about why on earth would she want to top a man, and then she says not so nice things about their bodies. And then i point out that she kinda sees me as man and that i like to bottom, and then she tells me that i dont count because im not actually a man, and that when she talks about mens ugly bodies theyre not comparable to mine. She says all this while continuing to never top me.

Theres a lot of other things shes done since I started T, lots of jokes about how Im supposed to do certain things because im “the boy” and shes the girl. Im supposed to pay, im supposed to fuck(top), im supposed to drive, im supposed to kill spiders and wasps and other big scary bugs (we live out in the woods now- lots of big scary bugs) etc etc. She makes jokes about how “faggy” i am for a boy, she “jokingly” calls me a faggot when I express wanting to bottom/submit, she makes fun of other men AND me for “cross dressing” and just doesnt respond when i tell her im not a man or says “yeah i know im just joking”

Sometimes (very rarely) we go out to bars and events and these are some of the only times were I allow myself to be feminine. There is a queer kink event that gets hosted a few cities over, weve only been to this event 3 times. The first time- i presented masculine, chest taped and exposed, i was one of only 3 masculine presenting people there. Nobody talked to me that night, I was avoided like the plague. The second time I tried being more androgynous, tried wearing some makeup and girly clothes, but kept my hair short and curly and i kept my mustache. Some people actually talked to me this time. My gf and I met a very beautiful trans girl, we all got pretty fucked up and started touching on eachother, the 3 of us left to go have a threesome. The “threesome” was basically me getting cucked as that girl fucked my gf ON TOP of me and then they went to bed and I cried myself to sleep. Ever since I started T and presenting masculinely i feel SO undesirable and unwanted. I was joining those events hoping id find someone whod desire me and want to fuck me and instead got cucked and watched my gf get fucked instead. (Dw my gf acknowledged how weird that whole situation was and we pray we dont ever see that girl again lmaoo) We went to one more event. I straightened my hair, shaved my mustache, put on makeup, and put on some girly lingerie- i was indistinguishable from a girl.

My gf saw me, and her eyes lit up. She was looking at me in a way I havent seen at her look at me in so long. Hungry eyes. Desire. She thinks im beautiful and desirable and sexy as a girl. She made comments about wanting to fuck me all night. We went to the event, so many people talked to me, so many people danced with me, so many people kissed me and grinded on me. So many people desired me. I was a pretty girl that night and everyone liked me. We went home and my gf fucked me. I think about that night a lot, and about the first night when everyone avoided me; and i get real sad. Were planning on going to the event again, but I feel like I can only show up as a femme, otherwise no one will talk to me or care about me.

I have an additional gf now, she is also trans :) and shes a top, but we dont live together and our schedules are packed so i hardly get to see her. I love both of my gfs, but both of them have said things that made me feel… not so respected I guess?? Or like maybe my feelings arent being considered?? As far as my secondary gf goes, shes cracked a few jokes about “theyfabs” that made me uncomfortable… as someone who was afab and uses they/them.. her bestfriend is also literally a fem enby she/they afab person so im like… why would you post these jokes when two of the people closest to you could be considered “theyfabs”?? We also had a discussion where she admitted she thought it was weird for trans men and non binary(afab) people to say the word “tranny”. Though ive said it like once or twice infront of her and it didnt seem to bother her. Those are the only things my secondary gf has done to make me uncomfortable and I havent really spoken up much about them cause I guess im scared of having those conversations and somehow getting hurt/made even more uncomfortable.

My primary gf has also cracked at least one joke about “theyfabs” and has said stuff along the lines of “transmasc have it easier than transfems” (mostly in reference to our transitions but also in terms of oppresion). Which is strange that she thinks transmascs pass way easier than transfems because she passes 8/10 times and I pass 0/10 times. Im pretty sure she ALSO said something about only transfems are referred to as trannies and then i had to remind her about the whole “tranny” voice trend and how many times I’ve personally been called that word.

About a month or two ago…(this is the situation I had sent someone else an anon over and then got told simultaneously to kill my gf and that i was an asshole for complaining about my trans gf publicly).. even though i hardly get topped, i worked up the courage to ask my gf to top me anally while I wore my strap, for the gender euphoria of getting fucked “like a man” while having a penis. She said “I feel like yall are just culturally appropriating transfems now”…. I was GOBSMACKED… i muttered something about gay men and she goes “oh yeah i forget men exist haha” (kinda unrelated but it feels worth mentioning that several times she has admitted to me that she completely forgets that trans men exist… even though she kinda sees me as one and several of our friends are trans men) needless to say, i did not get fucked while wearing the strap, and i dont know if ill ever work up the courage to ask someone to do that for me again.

This ask is already way too fucking long and i need to wrap this up but not included in the above stories are the countless times online where binary trans men and women have been racist to me while telling me why transandrophobia isn’t real and why i shouldn’t be invading lesbian and women spaces and that im a trans misogynist for being uncomfortable about the word “theyfab” etc etc/other common things transandrophobes like to say.

So. Yeah.

TLDR; my trans gfs, a lot of my trans friends, and a lot queer spaces have an aversion to masculinity and tend to be pretty exorsexist; and I feel like im only treated with respect as well as only ever desired when i present feminine. In trans spaces I am told im not trans for being enby, in lesbian spaces im told im not lesbian for being transmasc, and in transfeminist spaces im either a ftm who has privilege over transfems and im inherently trans misogynistic or im a cis woman “theyfab” who wants to feel special and is also inherently transmisogynistic.

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[inventedfangirling]

Pran's Growth : from pran-so-cool to pran-in-love

Since I did one for Pat I thought I should do one for Pran too although this one turned out slightly different than Pat's and far faaaar (im talking crazy levels of scrolling far) more detailed because i'm only human idk how to be brief about Pran FORGIVE ME.

Look at him he's my baby, i just CANNOT. So that now we have established that I have unexplainable levels of fondness for him, and so can only view his actions through love tinted glasses which means i'm basically Pat which means I'm super qualified to write this post, lets move on to what i actually wanted to say.

The first glimpse we get of Pran's mind (if you look in the chronological order of events in the show's universe) then its during his conversation with Pat where they discuss what song to perform for christmas.

Here we see the normally closed off Pran share his feelings (albeit about the topic of the song) with Pat with an ease that feels uncharacteristic of the Pran we come to see later. Because while Dissaya was still overbearing and controlling, Pran hadn't had to bear the worst of it yet. For a single child without friends that he could really open up to, it was natural for Pran to feel a pull towards Pat boisterous though he was, because he offered him a space where he could for the first time in his life open up in. 

It could be argued that Pran didn't reveal anything to Pat (it could be argued otherwise too i will get to it soon) but for a person of Pran's nature, who finds expressing himself difficult the space Pat offered for him to express his creativity and his passion for music and song writing was by itself a lot. But it's not just that. Pran is not only talking about a random song is he? He is talking about putting his actual feelings into the song. How he likes the feeling of hesitation of wanting to jump in but being afraid to be heartbroken.

He is knowingly or unknowingly speaking about his own feelings with respect to Pat. I say unknowingly because it is hard to imagine Pran really revealing his heart like that if he really knew what he was going through at that very moment.

And how does Pat react to Pran's words. He pays attention, listens intently and encourages Pran's idea. Pran opened up and Pat let him and Pran actually felt great about it. Its one of the rare moments in his life where he could be honest about something so special. 

And then Pat goes on doing random thoughtful acts like making the guitar pick out of his own ID just cos he saw Pran was struggling to play the guitar without it. He had nothing to gain and he still did that. He is nice to him. He says hi to him by the juice stand, he tells him he'd see him in the music room. Like he wants to see him there. Pran almost forgets their family feud. He was falling in love after all. How could he not?

The feeling being new to him, Pran like any teenager was curious to see what would happen? 

What if I step closer? What if we spend more time together? What if i was more nice to him? Could something actually happen?

But then he sees InkPat in the music room and Pran loses the spirit he had suddenly gained. 

Maybe not. Pat probably didnt feel the same way.

 And then the bracelet thing happens. 

Of course he didnt feel the same way. 

And then the christmas show happens and they practice together again, they play music together again and music and his feelings for Pat have somehow been inextricably intertwined ever since that conversation they first had about the song. And so here he was finally singing the song in front of people, declaring his feelings out loud, and the crowd was actually cheering and grooving to their song and the whole vibe of it puts him in a space where he feels anything could happen and in a rare moment of indulgence he turns to smile at Pat while singing the song he wrote about them. 

But then before he could even taste the feeling of freedom that that performance was potentially offering him, it all comes crashing down as he sees his parents standing in front of him, face aghast and anger writ large on it. And before Pran knows it he's shipped off to a boarding school away from everything he ever knew.

For any teenager that's a harsh change. For a neurodivergent gay introvert like Pran it would have been an even more isolating experience. Finding himself in an unfamiliar environment with no friends, no family and just a bunch of strangers, his only companions the anger and frustration at the whole situation at his mother and the boy who broke his heart (oblivious though he was of it).

How could Pran have let this happen? How could he have ever thought there was something there? And even if there was, that something could happen? How could he let him in? Of course it was gonna end up like this.

3 years at the boarding school pass and we can assume that Pran makes his own set of friends during this time. But we know that none if any are close enough for him to even bring up later on. Which means the one person who got him to open up, who gave him a safe space to talk and share feelings was still Pat. The one person he didn't have to be anything other than himself was, Pat. The only person who he ever felt comfortable enough to open up to was Pat. And Pran can't believe his terrible luck when he sees him stand across from him. 

Unlike Pat who has seemingly gone back to acting like a spoilt child fighting for no reason who is trying to hold onto the person he had become the past 3 years when Pran sees Pat all his feelings come rushing back to him. Despite it all, despite the three years of gap where he swore to never let himself be in such a position again, the moment he sees Pat he is gone again. Because the three years felt like nothing suddenly. And he's once again standing across from the boy who broke his heart.

Why the hell did this have to happen? Out of all the universities he could go to, why this one?

And this time things are more conducive to their budding friendship. And Pat  soon gives up his macho act and somehow keeps finding excuses to spend time with him. Of course Pran's feelings sprung back up in twice the ferocity.

His defences were still up but what the hell was happening?

Why is he helping him out for no reason? Why is he offering to do that? What the hell is being like this way for? Why is he smiling at his dimples like that? This possibly can't be real.

And yet. Day after day Pat keeps coming back and Pran's defenses are slowly threatening to come down and it's scary but its also exhilarating, but it's mostly scary.

And then he's proven right. To have been scared.

Because of course Pat never feels the same way. Of course he likes Ink. Of course that's what was happening all along. Silly Pran letting himself hope again. How foolish of him.

Episode 5 is Pran scrambling to pull back and secure his defenses, Pat is never getting through this wall again. He's done with this. He can't possibly be heartbroken over and over and over again for the same oblivious guy who probably has not a single clue what he's doing to Pran's heart.

And then the freshy night happens and then Pat acts a confusing combination of angry and hurt at the bar and Pran is supposed to be celebrating but he can't wipe Pat's betrayed face from his mind and then if that wasn't enough the confrontation with Wai happens and things come to a shrieking halt in the rooftop where Pran has finally had it. He tells him.

He finally lets it out, in the most Pran way he could at that point, telling Pat to not give him any hope to not do this to him. But instead of the final nail on the coffin that he expects Pat to hammer in, he knocks the winds out of him as he tells no, because no he actually does not want to be friends. He actually wanted what Pran wanted?

After all this time?

And then they step closer and wait for a while before Pat finally leans in, giving him the kiss that he had been dreaming about since god knows how long. Except the kiss is too short and maybe Pat had only that much to give, but Pran had years worth of love and want and longing he had been carrying around and he wanted nothing more than to let it all go. And so he does. He pulls Pat closer and gives him the kiss that he's been wanting to give him forever. 

Pran tells Pat every single one of his feelings through that kiss. Because he was never going to ever be able to put them into words was he? But alas...if Pat wasn't putting the final nail on the coffin, then the wave of realizations that follow the kiss tells Pran that he needs to be the one to do it.

It's never gonna work out ever. This is the most they could ever have. And knowing that Pat returned his feelings doesn't make it any easier.

Because what the hell was he doing? Letting himself go like this!? Setting himself up for getting hurt again? Pat may have kissed him, but he liked Ink too didnt he? And even if he didn't any longer, their families hated each other. And the last time they knew they got close, Pran had to go through hell and back. 

How could he do this to himself again? No.

It is over. It has to be over. He can't keep getting hurt again.

And he pulls back.

By miles. He is done letting his guard down and getting hurt and causing hurt. This is best in the long run. He should just stay away from Pat. No matter how much it hurt. It was never gonna work out anyways.

But then Pat comes back. Pran pushes him away. He has to give up at some point. He has to. Why would he keep coming back? But Pat keeps surprising Pran. He keeps coming back and butting in and being a pain in the ass and Pran is at his wit's end because he just doesn't know how much more he can withstand. He could see how much effort Pat was putting just to have a conversation with him. And eventhough he was staying away to protect himself he also thought he was doing it for Pat's sake too. That it was better for everybody in the long run. But Pat's steadfast efforts finally get to him.

He was still the one person in the world he could truly be open in front of. His defenses were somehow at his weakest. And sitting there on that beach dreaming of a reality where their parents don't have a life consuming feud going on Pran actually lets himself open up once again. After that it was just a matter of time before Pran was lured into the who falls in love first challenge bet. Bringing their love for competing with eo into this was the only way Pran could be eased into this.

Pat knows him so well. They've come so far. What the hell, he could win this challenge couldn't he? Pat followed him all the way to their hostile architecture trip didn't he? He would cave in.

Pat keeps surprising him though he keeps finding new ways to flirt and stump him, and Pran never to be beaten has a few tricks up his sleeve too.

Neither end up winning and things stay in that will they won't they when will they limbo and there was all chance of it continuing indefinitely and then Pat surprises him again.

He doesn't take Pran's easy out. Pran had basically offered to confess and end this bet. Pat was being handed an easy win. But he declines it. And then he surprises him even more by walking into the loss, showing up to play Kwan in a drama he didn't even need to act in, in a play he signed up for just to flirt with Pran and now the play he is offering to do, entirely and completely for Pran. At this point Pat really had the upper hand in the bet. And he still willingly volunteers to lose. He puts himself out there, knowing he will lose. Because on the other end of it Pat saw a relationship with Pran. Why prolong it any longer? And how could Pran not melt at that. Bet be damned. 

And that's why he cooks curry for Pat and when Pat tries to eat it himself, Pran stops him, looks at him meaningfully and then feeds it to him, as if signalling to Pat that if you lost for me, i'm losing for you too.

And so they start dating. And Pran now has to get used to this feeling of his defenses being down. His vulnerabilities exposed and his heart basically out there to be hurt. It was absolutely terrifying. And he wouldn't have had the courage to go for it if Pat hadn't done what he did. Showing him that he valued Pran and his feelings over his own ego. Pat's consistency and sacrifice proved beyond a shadow of doubt as somebody Pran could actually trust himself with. Over and above his overwhelming love for Pat, I believe it is that trust that helped him take that step. 

And Pat keeps showing him every step of the way that the trust was given in safe hands. After every fight, every disagreement, they stop and they talk and they communicate. Pran asks for time. Pat gives it. Pran asks him to keep it under wraps. He's okay with it. Pran compromises on a lot of things himself. He steps out of his comfort zone, willingly does things he wouldn't have dreamt of otherwise just to make Pat happier.

Because he realizes that if the relationship has to work, they both need to put equal effort. By being with Pat, Pran while being in a safe space gets to open up his heart in ways he would have been afraid to otherwise.

It is implied that Pran is the one who cooks for both of them, he leaves cute notes to make Pat smile when he's upset, he does random thoughtful things like putting the paste on the toothbrush for a waking Pat, he hurries home immediately to comfort an upset Pat, and even if it made his friend mad he still showed up to practice sessions and games because he wanted to support Pat and be there for him.

When Wai outs them it is the tremendous trust that he has in Pat and their relationship that helps Pran go over to assuage Pat and helps them get through it together. Every step of the way every block in the path they handle it together. His trust in Pat, his belief in their love growing more and more.

And that's why when Pran sees that Pat is quite serious about staying on at the beach, despite his reservations and fears and wanting to be there for his mother too he still goes all in. Of course he does. Of course he goes all in for the boy he has loved ever since he knew what love was. The one person who kept showing up over and over. The only one who he had complete and utter trust in, to be there for him. 

Because finally, finally Pran could see what he couldn't even dream of when he was young and a life he didn't dare let himself think about in their few months of relationship. A life with Pat, the kindest warmest love-shaped boy he knew, no matter how silly he could get, he would always want to be there for him, with him and he no longer felt like he had to clutch onto his defenses like they were the only thing he really had, because no? He had Pat didn't he?

The only person who knew what it was like being in Pran's shoes, and who loved him nonetheless and maybe even all the more because of it, the way Pran did with him, because he knew Pat would never hurt him knowingly.

He could do this.

He could do this with him.

His belief in their love, his trust in their relationship, the commitment that Pat expressed to him in that conversation, ensured that no matter what challenges came up later in their fake break up era, things would still be okay. It's because of that faith that Pran knew that he could afford to go to Singapore for a couple of years and they would remain strong though it all because of that assurance and confidence he felt in himself, in Pat and this relationship that they had nurtured and cherished.

We see him grow up from a boy who was scared of feeling things to a boy who was brave enough to overcome that fear to let himself be open to hurt to crying in the arms of Pat, letting himself be his most vulnerable to braving hurt to fighting for what he loves and doing what he feels is right.

We see his growth from when he went from being afraid to express his feelings to expressing that in actions and then in words and asking Pat to do the public confession and writing a song for him and asking him how good he was in bed and demanding Pat call him sweetly.

Unafraid of his wants or desires and no longer averse to expressing them. We see him growing beyond childish hijinks to buying a gift for the man who had once hurt his mother, because two things can be true at once ( Ming was an asshole, but he was still Pat's father). He was building a life with Pat, and a meticulous planner like Pran was obviously not going to leave his relationship with his future father in law to chance. 

And that's my take on how Pran went from "You still owe me" to "Every time i'm near you, nothing good happens" to "Can you please stay away from me?" to "You know that fact (that you aren't my friend) now leave" to "Someone like you what's to like?" to "You've got to stop doing this to me Pat" to "Why start when you know how it's gonna end" to "It's the kind of relationship i always avoid"  to "I care about you more" to "if you want my hand be brave" to "If i do that (thinking of it as a song for Pat) then how can i ever really quit" to "Being with you already feels like freedom" to "We like each other. Why does it bother anyone?" to "I can be anywhere as long as i have you" to "I wrote this song for him." to "Give it to him for me" to "If not you i won't allow anyone else to use it" to "Call me nicely" unafraid of expressing his feelings and desires, heart more open and loving than the one he started off with.  

To conclude and in short throughout the show the growth we see in Pran is perfectly illustrated in his password change from the Pran (who was uber protective of his own self and was emotionally repressed and closed off trying to appear cool and unaffected) of Pran So Cool to the unabashedly in love Pran (having made rapid progress in expressing his feelings and braving fears) of Pran in Love, and it's Pat's love and kindness that helped him along the way. 

The world didn't change him. Pat's love did.

[anzuhan]

april end innovade update (and possibly one of if not final update)

Statistics:

this was the first month in which i've only drawn one out of all trinities (michael only) (-)

the draw rate has raised since last month's 2.04 to 2.16/day (+)

first time ive drawn a piece including all innovades i tend to usually draw (+)

first time inclusion of 'others' (with the miku innovade designs) (+)

still only drew least drawn innovade a single time (sky) (-)

total drawn - 249

per innovade:

tieria - 59

laetitia - 15

regene - 23

revive - 19

bring - 18

divine - 17

anew - 14

sky - 6

hiling - 33

ribbons - 41

trinities

michael - 9

johann - 3

nena - 3

other - 2

—

ending note / long ramble about the whole situation

its been a long while huh 😭 exactly 4 months. minus a day ! on a year with a longer february as well, nonetheless. its been fun, but i may stop drawing them now; not to say natsume has utterly obliterated my love for innovades inside of my brain (though i thought of announcing it this way with a funny headline like BREAKING NEWS ! natsume has murdered the entire species of innovades in cold blood. we are sorry for the inconvenience), but also as of late it did sort of become a bother to draw them; mostly because of the keeping track of it as well and because i did not want the draw rate etc to drop. i did get to 1/4th of my goal.. minus one ! im not saying i will NEVER be drawing them ever again, but i doubt ill be keeping track of it anymore — alongside that, i do not think i will be drawing them almost at all anymore either (now, for a while. but they may still appear here and there from time to time.. as all my past fandoms do), so if you were only here for them and not me & my works, feel free to unfollow. i will still be up to have talks about them ! but i just wont devote such a high amount of time and effort to them anymore. it is hard to say ive been slowly falling out of love with them, and mayhaps even harder to say im falling in love again with natsume 😭 and EXACTLY a year later after i last stopped drawing him too... which is crazy .

i feel like besides this, it was also becoming apparent that drawing them has become a chore to me ; i was not feeling up to drawing highly detailed pieces with them anymore that id spend time on. i was not happy with the results on many of them either. and things like the page of every single tieria outfit, despite it used to be a thing i was once hyped about doing... back in january when i just got here, it no longer was that way. yes, i pushed through with it, but it took me a very long time and i kind of disliked going back to it, which is why it even took me that long 😭 and was moreso just done to keep up the numbers of innovades drawn ; for myself, for others.

i cannot lie about the fact it did make me happy i was giving to such a small fandom and brightening other peoples days, and this is a big flaw i have that i tend to put others above myself, but this has become much too big of a bother to me to keep on doing it. i still love them ! not as much, but i still do, especially ribbons. there is nothing wrong with them, i just do not wish to continue essentially wasting so much of my time drawing things i do not enjoy drawing, unless i am to see it finished and thats all the joy i get out of it.

as for the requests with the innovades, i am unsure if i am to do them anymore except for a singular one that ive also not received thru an ask but dm, purely because i am actually hyped about it 😭 and that may be the extent of which you will be seeing anymore 00 content from me.

im sorry if ive let anyone down & thank you for following me through this journey ; i hope to see you again :)

[scapegoated-if]

im not saying this in a "i want Leon as an RO" way, i just wanted to babble and i hope this doesnt feel pressuring bc that is not what i want to do. i just wanted to share

but yeah i do enjoy daydreaming about him and my MC being very affectionate towards each other. just Leon feeling generally misunderstood (at least thats the vibe he gives off to me), but feeling like at least MC tries to understand him and generally succeeds with the efforts, esp if she loaned him the book. just casually leaning on her, or being quietly obnoxious by shifting his legs to be in her lap; taking her with to museums; being, not upset with the band's hiatus, but by not getting the promise to see MC reguarly and work with her; promising to call or send post-cards, maybe them being a bit of a Daisy and Simone with that "map of the world" monolog from Daisy Jones & The Six. but also if he wrote some unrequited love songs about the MC, i wouldnt be surprised, gotta give the Leon simps something in this measly hc scenario of mine i guess lmao

i think part of it being (a) really ironic for Vince to potentially be in love with someone who is "like Leon's kid sister", or just being easily charmed by her platonically yet repelled be Leon if his affection is non-romantic. i like the idea that Vince and Leon can never agree on anything besides the MC being good company. i think part of the allure is that, knowing the murders coming up and i assume MC being targetted at one point, under that daydream's scenario, that thered be the potential for a Leon-Vince truce under the name of worrying about her and wanting to see if she's okay

and (b) is because it immediately sets up this assumption that MC is usually their mediator (personality depending, but my MC definitely would have been). therefore, giving more credit to the assumptions the MC is sleeping with the band/breaking them up, and also setting up further How Done with this Vincent must be if none of the MC's usual peacekeeping has worked. and the MC does kind of act, narratively, like "part of why the band broke up" if both Vincent and Leon are in any way clingy or jealous in a "no, she's MY best friend" manner

and (c) is in case Leon dies. idk if you ever watched the show, Fraggle Rock from Jim Henson, but there's an episode where all the Fraggles mistakenly think Mokey died. and Red is just in shock going "No! No, she can't be dead! She isn't! She can't be dead because she's my best friend! She's my best friend!" before she found out Mokey is actually okay. and i think thatd be my MC's reaction to Leon dying due to all these hcs i do

for the record, i am also trying to come with hcs around my MC and Shiloh too, but im having more trouble with him, idk why though

but yeah, again, this isnt meant to be like "can MC and Leon be like this? 👉👈" bc i find that rude to request, you wrote what you wrote, i dont want to ask you to change things. im aware Leon's current distance with the MC in-game very much makes all my hcs into an au. i just like sharing my hcs for the sake of letting you know, in detail, how much this game's set up is already running rent free in my brain (lol) and bc, if i dont share with someone, im just gonna info-dump on my mama later probably and she deserves a break (ergo: need to vent this ramble somewhere, and i thought youd enjoy it the most)

if you want help replying to this (bc im aware it may be hard to besides a "nice!" lmao), id love to know some of Leon's actual opinion of the hiatus and his bandmates, since Leon himself isnt saying much to Bobby or anyone in-game (fair of him to be distant and avoid it, but also im nosy)

regardless, i hope youre having a nice day!!

Hi! I got the impulse to respond, but I don't know where to start.

Leon is tricky and it's hard to truly grasp an understanding of who he is in the Prologue and that was entirely my intention. Even though I want you guys to recognise a sense of familiarity with the band, I don't want you to know them yet. So I do find the different interpretations of Leon--that I have seen so far--really interesting. They haven't been insanely different, but they haven't been the same.

As for Leon's opinion of the hiatus, you will find out in Chapter 1! That conversation is had and was BREWING, believe me. I won't spoil a lot of it but it's not directly had between MC and Leon, there are different characters you'll hear from too. This scene is currently where I am in the writing process for Chapter 1 coincidentally.

I want to say more but everything I want to say is essentially spoiling what will come up in the story. I need to finish Chapter 1 soon, because keeping things to myself is excruciating--I don't even give my best friends spoilers because I don't want to ruin the immersion for them when they're beta testing my first drafts. I'm unwell

[ask-yonaga]

JOURNAL ENTRY #145

06/23/XXXX

>> "I found a thing washed upshore today. >> It was small, rectangular, and absolutely soaked! Had a buncha cute little buttons too! >> So I picked it up and messed around, and it started glowing! By now I’m wondering what it does more than what it is so I click around and start hitting the little buttons, until it starts showing me other little rectangular shapes.

>> I click on those and not a whooole bunch show me anything cool, just pictures of plants, colors, ya!

>> Then, I clicked on a blue button with a small one of these things in it “t”, and there was a bunch of small phrases! It looked cool so I clicked around until it let me make one of my own.

>>I hit the “post” button when I finished writing, nothings happened yet. I’ll be watching it!

>>Im not sure what father might do if I show him, soo I’m hiding it for now! It’ll go in the same spot I hide my journal.

>>Oh— Father’s calling me now, bye-byeee! I’ll write later!!"

———

[PREGAME-ANGIE’S ASKBOX IS NOW OPEN]

goooood morning danganronpa v3 tumblr and angie lovers everywhere.

Today, I present to you all a pre-game angie askblog!!!

-> btw, if you want a canon character to interact "from the future" or simply in passing off of tumblr, im very okay with that! Just Angie wont know them, nor will she accept any prophesies from them. <3

WARNINGS:

-> General cult stuff

-> family issues

-> unhealthy relationships in general

-> not a complete list, will be added to in time.

PREMISE:

Heres the basic stuff ill reveal for now, this will be updated as stuff is asked and therefore discovered!

[ Angie Yonaga, before the events of NDRV3, grew up in a cult. All events that would happen in NDRV3 will be treated as if they will happen eventually in reality. [IOW: no "real fiction", all ultimates are real, The Tragedy did occur over 200 years prior.] She is also the secondary oracle to Kami-Sama, her cult's god. A position given to her by Father, the leader of her cult, after she claimed to "hear" Kami-Sama. As of current, she is 15, close to turning 16, AKA her "coming of age".

-> Her coming of age ceremony is NOT group sex. I cant tell you how much i loathe that plotpiece, it is INSTEAD a party in which she is drugged with hallucinogens and "sees how Kami-Sama will present himself to her"

----> I go into more detail Here, and Here. [warning: out of date posts, mostly everything is correct aside from number ages.]

-> Father will have a lot of mentions, so youll learn about him definitely if you ask the right things :]

-> no other NDRV3 characters are present.

-> This is an art themed ask-blog! Hence, I will draw Angie answering whatever asks i recieve!

-> design notes!

TAG NOTES:

-> [ LETTERS FOR YONAGA ] -> answered asks

-> [ >> OOC ] -> mod posts/updates/announcements/pleas for attention

-> [ CANON STUFF ] -> usually a lore-heavy ask

-> [ NOTES ] -> Lore heavy posts/references or anything that is ooc that explains something about angie/father/the island/etc!

BASIC RULES: [dont make me add more]

-> I wont accept NSFW nor other strange asks towards Angie, she may be younger than I am, but I will not draw her answering things like that.

-> please dont correct me on my plotholes, especially when we get to druggy topics. Im fully aware that there are several plotholes ive yet to fill, and id rather not be given help on those if i have not asked for it.

-> Also please dont rush me, im not hugely active in the danganronpa community anymore and mostly started this for fun! that means, sometimes asks will be slow, and sometimes theyll be out one after the other! it really depends on how busy i am some days. :]

-> Thats about all, send in some stuff!! <3

[vroerry]

Hi. So, to start, i dont know the difference between oneshot and short fanfic, im not used to those words yet, im sorry ;n; so make it whichever one of those two you feel like and would have fun with! Id like a nice little story to read, not just headcanons alone if possible.

Ive been thinking about this idea that takes place after Kazuichi Soda gets yelled at by Sonia in the Dangan 2 game, and they all storm off in their own directions. But then, reader tries to go comfort Kaz and one thing leads to another~

I suppose a touch of angst would be appropriate for such a story, but i dont want it to be just that, or too focused on that. Thats the lead up to the NSFW, which is the focus.

Reader goes and finds Kaz in the night after everyone went seperate ways, comforts him, they talk, hes probably a bit snippy, but then calms down. These 2 were buddies, not dating, but then all the ~stuff~ happens, and, you get the rest. Sexy stuff ought to cheer the man up lol. You fill out the "how" of this scenario. Howd they end up in bed? Have fun with it.

Im sure reader would feel bad for Kaz, not wanting him to be in distress. Maybe reader has been secretly pining for Kaz, but that doesnt HAVE to be a detail, im kinda making this all up quickly, throwing in lots of details, and you decide what sticks~ The others on the island didnt see each other for the rest of that night, so they could definitely get alone time no problem. Maybe after he calms down a bit, reader comes up behind him and hugs him, sweet and somber.

Idk about location, because the others would be in their cottages, but the motel should be free at this point, so maybe there so they can be loud and not care.

Can i PLEASE have reader taking kaz's hat the morning after because her hair is so messed up, like "gimmi that shit, your hair looks fine as hell, im the mess today i need hat." Maybe something in the end about them trying to act natural the next day around the others, you know? Perhaps some hickeys gave it away or somethin, whatever you think up and wanna write is cool.

Gender neutral or female reader is cool if ya dont mind. And idk what genre to label it as like you asked in your rules. Slight angst with mostly NSFW? Idk how to genre, i apologize ;-;

Thank you for reading, i look forward to your future works, whatever youre inspired to do is cool. Take it easy<3 ~Tiara👑

I'm so freaking sorry for the wait😭 My life took a heavy turn, but I'm fine now!

When I tell you I took my sweet time to play around with this scenario~

Also, difference between short fanfic and oneshots: It might be made up by me??? For me a short fanfic is multiple parts, 10 at tops, each part being around 1600 words at least?? So the entire fic is maximum around 16k words.

But now, to the fanifc:

A comforting touch

Kazuichi Souda x fem reader, NSFW

words: 1380

Another day on the islands, another day to end in chaos. Just the usual Jabberwock Island drama in the middle of a damned killing game.

Everything was fine, everything was going well, until Kazuichi decided to express his love for Sonia again. And this time, it did not end well. And you were the one that was in charge of finding Kazuichi. Again.

"Just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid" Hajime asked you and sent you off on your way.

"I will!" you replied and took went on a journey to find your buddy. Ever since you've ended up in this situation, he made you weirdly comforted. His goofiness, his fun aesthetic, everything. Except for when he was driving Sonia, and after that everyone else, insane. Even you struggled to understand his obsession with her, but brushed it off. It's his business not yours. It's his business not yours...

When you started looking for him, the sun was still up, but soon the moon took his place on the sky with the stars and you were completely clueless about his whereabouts.

"Let's see..." you thought to yourself. "What did I miss...?" The locations quickly ran through your head. Library, check. Theater, check. Cottages, check. First island entirely? Check.

"The motel!" you said out loud. "Well, I doubt he'd be there but... it's worth a shot" you wondered and decided to give it a go. You made your way to the third island and immediately headed for the motel. The abandoned looking building looked the same as ever, and the smell of musk was just as strong as before. You slowly opened the door and called out to the seemingly empty building.

"Kaz? Are you here...?" you walked inside and started looking around. "I just want to make sure you're okay, bud... I've been looking for you for hours..."

No response.

You continued to walk around the dusty place, stopping every now and then in front of doors.

"Kazu? Please be here, I have no other idea where to look for you... We can do whatever you want... Just be okay..."

Still nothing.

You sighed.

"Fuck, maybe I was wrong..." with a heavy heart you started to get to the exit. "I hope he's alright..." as you started walking away, a door behind you opened. You quickly turned back to see Kazuichi standing in the doorway.

His hair was the usual mess, he cried his eyeliner off.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled. "Were you that worried?"

"It's okay! Oh god, I finally found you..." you said and went back to him. "Thank god you're okay... Would a hug be okay?"

"Yeah..." he replied and you wrapped your arms around him and so did he.

"It's going to be okay... I promise, Kaz... You'll apologise to her tomorrow and everything will be fine..."

"I will..." Kazuichi said. "I... i went overboard... I didn't want to upset her..." he slowly let go of you.

"I suppose... You don't want to go back there, right?" He shook his head in response.

"I don't want to be near anyone right now... Well, aside from you, I guess... But if you don't want to stay, you can go back..."

"No, it's fine" you brushed the offer off. "I'll stay here with you... I promised the others and myself that I'd keep an eye on you..."

"Alright then.. I guess... we can stay here..."

"Do you... uh... want to talk about everything that happened..?" you ask. He stays silent for a bit.

"Let's sit down..." he said and went back to the room he was hiding in. You followed him.

He sat on the bed and gently tapped the space next to him.

"C'mere... Let's have a... chat..." he smiled at you gently and rested his back against the wall. You sat next to him with a curious look as he speaks up.

"So... I know I fucked up... Miss Sonia didn't deserve that" he mumbles, looking down with a guilty expression. "But at the same time.. I... don't really know how else to show her how I feel... My parents never really... taught me how to handle emotions... But it doesn't matter now... She's got real close with that demon lord or whatever he calls himself"

"Kaz..." you sigh. "I know, rejection sucks but... I'm sure you're going to find someone that knows how to take care of you, someone who loves you for you..." you smile at him and pat his shoulder. "Even if that person isn't Sonia... There must be someone out there.."

"Where?" Kazuichi frowns. "I won't ever find my match and you know it... I'm like that one sock at the bottom of the drawer, always lonely and"

You suddenly press your lips on his, making him shut up in the middle of his dialogue.

"That someone is right here, Kaz..." you whisper to his lips. "I may or may not destroy our friendship but I don't care... I am that person..."

"Man... what since when why..." he starts asking every question that comes into his mind. Nonetheless, you quickly. make sure he stays silent.

"Just shut up and enjoy the moment" you kiss his soft lips once again, wrapping your arms around him. Pulling him close, not letting him escape your touch.

Kazuichi's eyes slowly flutter close, as he kisses you back, letting himself go under your touch.

Your hands start to wander around his chest. Slowly caressing each spot through his overall then zipping it down to reach under it...

"Are you surre this is a good idea?" he breathed out.

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes" he whispered.

"Then yes..." you kissed his lips again. "It is a good idea.." You smiled and slowly tugged his overal off his chest.

You now began placing passionate kisses all over him. Starting right under his ears, steadily working your way down his neck, stopping at the collarbone and then repeating the said path in reverse. Now going up, every now and then gently sucking on his skin, leaving hickeys. He let out soft sighs of pleasure, his eyes fluttering after each kiss.

"Let me take care of you too" he tried to switch things up but you stopoped him with a firm expression.

"I am the one comforting you" you took your shirt off, making him blush and his eyes lit up in excitement.

"Actually...Keep going" he said with sparkling eyes, as you went down on him with a sly smile. You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, making sure all of your love went through. All the love, admiration, and comfort. Everything that was boiling inside you whenever you thought about Kazuichi But despite your order, his hands began wandering too. Pushing your clothes down, guiding you into his lap.

"Ride me" he pleaded.

"Any time" you replied and began grinding your hips. Back and forth in his lap. Kazu groaned, feeling the pressure of yourbody. His patience on edge, his mind wishing for the clothes to disappear. Both of you bit down on your lips to keep the silence. , Trembling, shaky breaths leaving his mouth he spoke up again.

"We can be as loud as we want... Just please ride me already" he pleaded again, whining under you. He was so on edge, so impatient. So ready for everything to come crashing down.

"I’ll get right to the point, I promise...” you continued to rock yourself back and forth, putting more and more pressure on his body. Even you started to tremble and placed your hands on his chest for support. Gently grabbing onto his small pecks, feeling muscle tensening at your touch. 

"Don't just promise me. Do it"

The next morning the two of you were walking back to the first island. Hand in hand, smiling as the sun was coming up.

"So.... We're together?"Kazuichi asked.

"I am not sure" you replied. "All I know is that..."

The two of you entered the first island. You quickly grabbed his hat and placed it on your head.

"That I need your stupid hat... My hair is a mess..."

"Mine too!" he tried to get his hat back.

"Yours is alway a mess, Kazu. Mine not" you giggled. He rolled his eyes.

"Love you dork,.. And your comforting touch..."