#author’s anvil

[girl4music]

Healthy codependency.

That’s a really good way of putting it.

I often talk about how codependency depicted in this show is bad or negative surrounding the characters of Willow, Riley and even Xander. But codependency in itself is not bad or negative. There is heathy versions just as there are unhealthy versions. And yes, despite how much I can’t stand the way the Scoobies treat Buffy sometimes, she’s definitely better off with them in her life than without them. And vice versa of course.

The main problem I have with Season 7 is really how they don’t consider this even half as much as they used to even though it’s the season where they need to work as a team the most. I mean the ‘father figure’ starts to act like your average Council Watcher again and a lot is taken away from Buffy and Giles’ dynamic because of it. The intelligent nerdy girl and best friend is suffering with her own self-control issues and therefore can’t be as useful as she probably wants to be to the Slayer. Plus their relationship is in shambles following the events of Season 6 and doesn’t get properly reconciled. It’s sort of just skimmed over as a “necessary” requirement to the final plot. And as for Xander… well… perpetual victim mode is just something that never really seems to change for him and as for how that informs his relationship with Buffy… well, let’s just say he deserved to say what he did in ‘Empty Places’ as much as I hate that episode.

I don’t know. They’re all just sort of ‘Scooby Gang but less’ in this final season. They’re so distant and empty. It’s not enjoyable to watch. It’s frustrating because everything just feels forced rather than natural. The organically built significant character interaction just isn’t there between really any of the main characters and because they bring in a load of other characters (the potentials) that may be the focus of the season but don’t really get proper development either, it all plays out like one big chaotic mess. But not like the way it does with Season 6 - which the point is for it to play out like one big chaotic mess for the sake of the main character’s representation and development (both negative and positive). In other words: it feels unintentional and therefore unnecessary. Like the writers didn’t know what they wanted to do but because it was the season to end off the entire show, just did what they thought might be entertaining and compelling but, to me, ended up being anything but.

Yeah, Buffy is one of the greatest superheroines ever. But only when they they knew what they were doing. And I’m not convinced they always did. Still, it’s a hell of a lot better than what we get today with female superheroines - which as you’ve pointed out - may as well be cardboard cut outs given the lack of emotional vulnerability they display on screen.

You’ve got to hand it to Gellar - she definitely knew how to portray a very relatable and human superheroine. And you can see how she was stronger for it, not weaker. That is indeed the problem with depiction of “feminism” on TV today. Which is why I just turn it off. It is not inspiring or motivating to watch. It’s fucking insulting. Well-written characters have layers… depth… nuance. They fluctuate because real people fluctuate. They’re flawed because real people are flawed. Females characters in particular get shafted of all of this characterisation because it’s “feminism” written by people who don’t know or understand how important keeping the balance is.

Sure most of it is because of how she’s written. But Gellar understood the assignment. I just wish they ended the show the way they began it. As a family. You have the parallel shots of Buffy, Willow and Xander walking off side by side together and Giles staying behind and making a witty comment about how “the Earth is doomed” with this rag-tag lot in ‘The Harvest’ and ‘Chosen’ which is meant to be as a tribute to how far they’ve come but that they’re still the same as they always were and it just doesn’t land in the same way because of how much they’re NOT “together” in it. Other people might think that that’s a satisfying conclusion to a wonderful character-driven saga but I don’t feel it because it’s contrived. I like the idea. I like the message. I just don’t like the execution of it all.

[lilqu33rboi]

hey so ik this is random but i made a thing-

i'm currently writing a story abt an autistic non-binary child & since ik there are a lot of nd & queer ppl on this site i thought some of yall might wanna read what i have so far!! i also made a site with a bunch of background info on some of the characters & shit if there's ever anything you're wondering while reading. here's the link if you'd like to check it out :)

(also ima tag a few ppl i think might like to check this out since ik yall like to write/read, ik it's mostly fanfic but still idk i thought yall still might wanna see how it is :D @solarsleepless @galaxysharks @hsmtmts-arrows @trickarrows-bishop

[goblinsstolemybrain]

I'm gonna start putting my little stories on World Anvil as well as my website. I think it could be fun. Plus, I'm already down the rabbit hole of wanting to make pages about literally everything in my world. I'll share links soon! Maybe today... Or next week. It'll depend on how organised I am.

[rugessnome]

im reading a cookbook/memoir and this analogy about trauma just made me realize that when saying that Bilbo lived in a nice dry cozy hobbit hole and not a dirty wet one, there's probably a decent chance the foxholes and trenches of WWI were the nasty holes on Tolkien's mind...

[cygnetbrown]

Finally, Book VII of the Locket Saga to be released in October!

Finally, after 7 years since I published The Anvil, I have completed Book VII of the Locket Saga: Two Rivers. Now available as an eBook and coming out in paperback on October 1, 2024. How the Locket Saga Began People often ask where I get my ideas for my books. The Locket Saga series started from a dream that I had long ago. In that dream, I saw a young man and a young woman sitting on a…

[thatoneweirdo14]

Thinking about what actual dialogue will take place < thinking about what The Line tm is going to be

[sunflowergamer6]

CHUCK TINGLE IS ON TUMBLR?!?!?!?!?

[deception-united]

Online Writing Resources #2

Vocabulary:

Tip of My Tongue: I find this very helpful when I can't think of a specific word I'm looking for. Which is often.

WordHippo: As well as a thesaurus, this website also provides antonyms, definitions, rhymes, sentences that use a particular word, translations, pronunciations, and word forms.

OneLook: Find definitions, synonyms, antonyms, and related words. Allows you to search in specific categories.

YourDictionary: This website is a dictionary and thesaurus, and helps with grammar, vocabulary, and usage.

Information/Research:

Crime Reads: Covers crime and thriller movies, books, and TV shows. Great inspiration before writing a crime scene or story in this genre.

Havocscope: Black market information, including pricing, market value, and sources.

Climate Comparison: Compares the climates of two countries, or parts of the country, with each other.

Food Timeline: Centuries worth of information about food, and what people ate in different time periods.

Refseek: Information about literally anything. Provides links to other sources relevant to your search.

Perplexity AI: Uses information from the internet to answer any questions you have, summarises the key points, suggests relevant or similar searches, and links the sources used.

Planning/Worldbuilding:

One Stop for Writers: Literally everything a writer could need, all in one place: description thesaurus, character builder, story maps, scene maps, timelines, worldbuilding surveys, idea generators, templates, tutorials... all of it.

World Anvil: Provides worldbuilding templates and lets you create interactive maps, chronicles, timelines, whiteboards, family trees, charts, and interactive tables. May be a bit complicated to navigate at first, but the features are incredibly useful.

Inkarnate: This is a fantasy map maker where you can make maps for your world, regions, cities, interiors, or battles.

Miscellaneous:

750words: Helps build the habit of writing daily (about three pages). Fully private. It also tracks your progress and mindset while writing.

BetaBooks: Allows you to share your manuscript with your beta readers. You can see who is reading, how far they've read, and feedback.

Readable: Helps you to measure and improve the readability of your writing and make readers more engaged.

ZenPen: A minimalist writing page that blocks any distractions and helps improve your focus. You can make it full screen, invert the colours, and set a word count goal.

QueryTracker: Helps you find a literary agent for your book.

Lulu: Self-publish your book!

See my previous post with more:

Drop any other resources you like to use in the comments! Happy writing ❤

Previous | Next

[idkyetxoxo]

Daemon Targaryen - Noble Aspirations

Summary - Preparing to meet her betrothed, she absorbs whispers and ominous rumours about him and as they engage in a cautious yet charged exchange about ambition and legacy, each hints at hidden agendas and the potential for conflict beneath their polished facades.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x Strong reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2247

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"You're punishing me," Daemon said, his voice heavy with accusation. Viserys sighed, clearly fed up with the complaints.

"I am not punishing you," Viserys defended, frustration lacing his words. He was growing weary of his brother's relentless grievances.

"Then why would you agree to a match of this sort?" Daemon's displeasure was palpable.

"Your other wife, Lady Royce, has died. You must be wedded again," Viserys explained, his tone firm as he tried to maintain patience. 

Daemon exhaled loudly, a sound filled with defiance and resignation.

"You punish me, brother," Daemon repeated, his words like a hammer striking an anvil. Viserys's temper flared.

"Marrying a respectable young lady is not a punishment," Viserys snapped, his voice straining with barely contained frustration. The room fell silent as Daemon was momentarily cowed by his brother's vehemence.

"Lord Lyonel Strong is your ally. This match is merely to please him," Daemon argued, his voice regaining some of its edge.

"I have no reason to please anyone. I am the king of the Seven Kingdoms," Viserys retorted, his royal authority evident in every syllable. The air between them crackled with tension.

"His daughter arrives tomorrow. I expect no further objections," Viserys said, his tone brooking no argument. The edge in his voice made it clear that compliance was not optional.

"Or what? You'll have my head?" Daemon challenged a dangerous glint in his eyes. Viserys simply glared at him, the unspoken threat hanging heavy in the air.

Viserys's tone shifted to one of cold authority. "If you wish to be named my heir, you will do as you're told."

The words hung in the air, their weight unmistakable. Daemon's face contorted with a mix of rage and disbelief. "You would dangle that in front of me? Like some sheep to a dragon?"

"You want the power, Daemon," Viserys said, his voice steady. "But with power comes responsibility. Prove yourself worthy of the throne by showing you can uphold the duties required of you."

A tense silence followed as Daemon grappled with his brother's ultimatum. 

Finally, he spoke, his voice tight with suppressed anger. "Fine. I'll marry your ally's daughter but don't think for a moment that I do this willingly. This is nothing but a chain around my neck."

The brothers stood in a silent standoff, the weight of their unspoken history pressing down on them both.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

"Father," I greeted warmly as he came into view.

"My darling," my father responded with a broad smile, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"Brother," I continued, turning to Harwin as he approached. We shared a smile and a brief hug.

"It has been quite some time," I commented, noting the passing months since we last saw each other. I glanced around, noticing the absence of my other brother, Larys.

"He had matters to attend to," Harwin explained, though I raised my eyebrows in scepticism.

"Of course," I said, knowing full well that Larys had no pressing matters. His absence didn't bother me, I wasn't particularly eager for his company. I always liked Harwin more.

"Prince Daemon will be joining us at dinner," my father announced as we began walking. "I suggest you take some rest and then freshen up," he continued, and I nodded in agreement while Harwin grumbled beside me.

"I take it you are not a fan of the match?" I asked, observing Harwin's discontent.

"Not particularly," Harwin replied, narrowing his eyes in frustration. "His first wife died," Harwin reminded, his tone pointed. My father sighed heavily.

"She fell off her horse and cracked her skull," my father reminded, the weight of the explanation evident in his voice.

"Or so we're told," Harwin countered, a clear look of displeasure on his face.

"He is a prince, it is a respectable union," my father argued, his voice firm with conviction.

Harwin sighed heavily, looking at me with a resigned expression. "I do as I'm told," I said simply, acknowledging the duty that bound me, even if it was to a match I had little enthusiasm for.

"Respectable or not," Harwin continued, "there are rumours, father. Whispers that Lady Royce's death was not as accidental as we are led to believe."

"Rumors," my father dismissed with a wave of his hand. "The court is always full of them. We cannot govern our decisions based on every idle whisper."

"Perhaps," Harwin conceded, but the tension in his voice remained. "But when those whispers involve a man who is to be our kin, they are harder to ignore."

I placed a comforting hand on Harwin's arm. "I understand your concerns, brother but we must trust that father has considered all prospects."

"Indeed," my father said, his tone softening as he looked at us both. "I would not make this decision lightly. The union with Prince Daemon is well thought out"

Harwin shook his head slightly but said no more. The silence stretched as we walked.

As we parted ways to ready ourselves, I couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension.

I spent a while lounging in bed, mentally preparing myself for the evening ahead. Finally, I decided it was time to get ready. I chose an elegant black and gold dress, its fabric flowing gracefully with every movement. I carefully pinned back my hair, ensuring each piece was perfectly in place.

When I arrived at the dining hall, the room buzzed with activity. The clinking of silverware and murmurs of conversation filled the air. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, making my way toward the empty seat next to my father close to where the king sat.

"Good evening, your grace," I greeted him with a respectful curtsy.

The king's eyes lit up with warmth as he looked at me. "Ah, there she is," he said with a smile. "You've grown into a fine young lady, indeed."

I thanked him, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks at his kind words. I noticed a striking figure at the table, his intense gaze fixed on me. He was undeniably handsome, with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance.

He leaned over the table, his movements deliberate and smooth. Taking my hand in his, he kissed it softly, his lips barely grazing my skin. 

"Lady strong," he murmured, his voice like velvet. "You are even more captivating than I was led to believe."

His words were measured, his tone almost cautious. Despite his composed exterior, I sensed a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Thank you, Prince Daemon," I replied calmly, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile.

Throughout dinner, the room was filled with the melodic exchange of polite conversation and the clinking of fine tableware.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Strong," Daemon remarked with a courteous smile, his voice smooth and controlled.

"The pleasure is mine, Prince Daemon," I replied, maintaining a poised demeanour as I navigated the conversation.

Daemon's eyes held a hint of curiosity as he studied me subtly. "Your family speaks highly of you," he commented, his tone measured yet carrying a genuine interest.

I glanced towards my father and found his encouraging nod reassuring. "I am fortunate to have their support," I replied diplomatically, a faint smile playing on my lips.

As the evening progressed, I couldn't help but notice the subtle dynamics at play around the table. I caught a glimpse of the king, observing his brother with a look that mingled with pride and a hint of smug satisfaction. 

The tension between them was subtle, a silent battle of wills unfolding amidst the pleasantries.

Trying to glean insights from the exchange, I returned my attention to the conversation with Daemon. His lingering gaze and the careful choices of his words revealed more than what was spoken aloud, hinting at deeper currents beneath the surface.

"I must admit, Lady Strong," Daemon continued, his tone shifting slightly as he leaned in closer. "You have managed to intrigue me more than I had anticipated."

His words carried a subtle challenge, and I met his gaze squarely, maintaining my composure. "Perhaps there is more to me than meets the eye, Prince Daemon," I replied evenly, a flicker of amusement dancing in my eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my response. "Intriguing indeed," he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "I wonder what other surprises you might hold."

I smiled a calculated expression that hinted at both charm and caution. "Only time will tell, my prince."

Our exchange continued, each word and gesture carefully measured as we explored the boundaries of polite conversation and unspoken understanding. Despite the veneer of civility, there was an undeniable tension, an undercurrent of power play and mutual scrutiny.

As the evening wore on, I noticed Harwin's disapproving gaze fixed on us. His concern was evident, a protective instinct that both warmed and exasperated me. I understood his reservations, Daemon's reputation was not one easily dismissed. Yet, there was something about the prince that drew me in, a complexity that begged to be unravelled.

"Is there something on your mind, Ser Harwin?" Daemon's voice cut through the ambient noise, his attention shifting to my brother.

Harwin hesitated, clearly taken aback by the sudden address. "Only the welfare of my sister, Prince Daemon," he replied, his tone respectful yet firm.

Daemon's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Your concern is noted, Ser Harwin. I assure you, your sister is in no danger from me."

I placed a hand on Harwin's arm, hoping to diffuse the tension. "Thank you, brother. But I am quite capable of handling myself."

Harwin looked at me, his eyes reflecting a mix of worry and resignation. "I know you are," he said quietly. "Just... be careful."

"I always am," I replied, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Turning back to Daemon, I found him watching me. "Your brother is very protective," he observed, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"As he should be," I countered. "Family is everything."

"Indeed," Daemon agreed, though there was a shadow in his eyes that hinted at his own complicated relationships.

"Perhaps we could take a stroll," Daemon suggested, his voice carrying a hint of invitation. I glanced towards my father, who met my gaze with a hesitant expression but eventually nodded in acquiescence.

Harwin, on the other hand, looked entirely displeased, though he knew his opinion would have no standing over our father's.

"I would enjoy that," I replied diplomatically, acknowledging the offer with a composed smile. Daemon rose gracefully from his seat and approached me, extending his hand to assist me.

As he guided me away from the table, the gentle murmur of conversation faded into the background. The air outside was crisp and cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the dining hall. 

We walked side by side along the palace grounds, the moon casting a soft glow over the gardens.

"What of your own ambitions, Lady Strong?" Daemon began conversationally, his tone relaxed yet inquisitive.

I considered his question carefully, choosing my words with deliberation.

"To honour my family's legacy and contribute to the realm in whatever capacity I am called upon," I answered earnestly, my gaze meeting his with unwavering sincerity.

His eyes held a mixture of respect and intrigue as he nodded in understanding. "A noble aspiration indeed," he remarked, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You possess a commendable sense of duty."

"Thank you, Prince Daemon," I responded, my tone equally measured. "And what of your ambitions? Surely a man of your stature and experience has grand plans."

Daemon's smile widened slightly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I have my sights set on greater things."

"Greater things," I repeated a hint of scepticism in my voice. "And what might those be?"

"Power," he replied simply, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. "Influence. A legacy that will be remembered long after I am gone."

I held his gaze, unflinching. "Ambitious, indeed but tell me, Prince Daemon, what price are you willing to pay for such a legacy?"

Daemon's expression remained smug, yet there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. 

"Every great achievement demands sacrifice," he said. "The question is not what price I am willing to pay, but what price others are willing to bear for my ambitions."

"And you expect those around you to bear these burdens willingly?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Not willingly," he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "But out of necessity. The realm is in need of strong leaders, those who can make the hard decisions."

"I see," I replied, matching his smile with one of my own. "And you believe yourself to be one of those leaders?"

"I do," he said confidently. "And perhaps, with your support, I can be even more."

Our exchange was a dance of words, each of us testing the other's resolve and intentions.

As we continued our leisurely walk, I found myself both wary and fascinated by Daemon's boldness. He was a man who knew what he wanted and was unafraid to pursue it, no matter the cost.

The moonlit gardens seemed to echo with the quiet exchange of words that bridged the gap between duty and personal connection, forging a subtle bond that hinted at the potential for deeper understanding between us.

"You truly do intrigue me," Daemon said after a moment of silence. "There is a force in you that I admire."

"And you, Prince Daemon, are not what I expected," I replied, my tone softer yet still guarded.

"Perhaps there is more to me than meets the eye," Daemon said, echoing my earlier words with a proud grin.

"Perhaps," I conceded, allowing a genuine smile to break through. "Only time will tell."

A/n - He's found somebody that's gonna match his freak!

[underdark-dreams]

Tiefling Bachelors - Tail headcanons [pining + in a relationship]

Some tail thoughts for Rolan, Dammon, & Zevlor [reader is gender neutral, non-Tiefling]

For anyone who doesn't follow already-- @forgeofthenine creates amazing Tief content! Their headcanons for these three are VERY delicious, including some genius tail HCs that I have been rereading all day!🖤

Pining:

Rolan:

When he's extra annoyed or excited by something, the tip of his tail will twitch side-to-side behind him slightly like a cat’s

Turns out the same thing happens when he’s got a crush on someone

He can control it with enough concentration, but it could still give him away if you catch him off guard or heaven forbid touch him in an unexpected way

It’s no secret from Cal and Lia—the three of them teased each other ruthlessly about the littlest flirtations back in Elturel, as teenagers do, so they’re used to picking up on all of each others’ signs

The minute they catch Rolan’s telltale (tell-tail?) move while he’s talking with you, you can bet those two will not let it go until you’ve moved in. Probs not even then honestly

If you get friendly enough with Rolan to have long talks about magic or the Weave, his guard will lower and he’ll let his tail do its thing (within reason)

He lies to himself that it’s just because he finds your conversation stimulating. Really, it’s everything about you

Dammon:

If you’re a non-Tiefling, Dammon might comfort himself with the knowledge that you probably don’t recognize the significance of how his tail moves when you’re near

He’s good at keeping his words to you measured and polite. The way his body reacts around you is a bit more instinctive and hard to control

He’s goddamn touch-starved to be honest, this man is practically married to his hammer and anvil & he’s been living alone for years

Whenever he makes you laugh, he finds his tail curls forward toward you a bit—wishing he could touch or hold you with it

Dammon always tells himself he needs to be a bit more careful when you come around the forge. But somehow it goes out the window every time

His tail will sway gently back and forth when you talk to him, not quite wagging, but definitely actively engaged

A fellow Tiefling would immediately recognize the gesture as interest and flirtation

Zevlor:

Zevlor thought he was a pro at this: controlling the tail movements, the ear twitches, generally suppressing his Infernal tendencies at all times

But it's been so long since someone made him feel like this. Handsome, desirable, everything

The first time you overtly flirt with him, and especially the first time you touch his arm or shoulder, his tail wags behind him

He stiffens immediately, alarmed and taken aback by his own reaction to your touch. Prays you haven’t noticed

If he can smoothly get away with it, he might excuse himself from your presence to try and collect his composure

He’s very conscious of his role as leader/authority figure among the other Tiefling refugees. He’d be mortified if any of them caught him eagerly tail-wagging like a youth after just a casual gesture from you

From that point Zevlor refocuses his control whenever you’re near, making sure to keep part of his brain aware of his posture around you. The way you keep seeking him out and standing close to him during conversation doesn’t make it any easier on this poor man

Relationship:

Rolan:

More than hand-holding, Rolan prefers to hold you with his tail

Let him loop it around your calf when you’re standing beside each other, or rest the curve around the small of your back

He finds it profoundly comforting to keep in contact and touch you that way

Rolan would love if you let him gently bind you with his tail, whether it’s your hands behind your back or one of your legs pulled open for him

He often wraps it around your waist while you’re topping or riding him

Rolan also likes to drag his tail between your legs while you’re going down on him and he can’t reach you with his hands

It turns into teasing almost every time—Rolan trying to see if he can finish you with his tail before you can finish him with your mouth

Rolan’s tail gets super sensitive when he’s close to coming. Gently tug on the tip, or God forbid suck on as much of his length as your mouth can take—Rolan will come hard with a loud whimper

Dammon: 

Finally getting with you is a relief for this man; he was struggling to control his body’s reactions around you anyway

Dammon is very cuddly and touchy with you in general, but he especially loves the freedom to finally touch you with his tail

Naughty man loves to slide it up over the curve of your ass when you’re kissing—even when you’re both standing in his open-air forge where a passerby on the street could glance over and see

He’s super into you, why would he hide it? Unless it makes you uncomfortable in the slightest, of course, in which case he'll do his best to restrain himself

It would turn him on so much if you asked for tailplay in the bedroom

Let him hold you with it, spread you, spank you, help you grind and pleasure yourself with it—anything you want, he’s down bad for

Watching his tail get you worked up super super does it for Dammon, and he will be sure to tell you just how much

Zevlor:

Once you’re together, Zevlor won’t hold back from using his tail to caress you

It’s usually when you’re already kissing or embracing each other. His tail will curl behind your knees, or perhaps wrap once around your waist to gently hold you close

He still keeps the gestures mild, out of habit and out of some lingering concern that it might come on too strong for a non-Tiefling. Zevlor also just tends to be reserved when it comes to PDA in general

When he’s bedding you, Zevlor’s tail may wrap around one of your legs in the heat of the moment—it’s a sign of deep affection and trust, and a bit of possessiveness (good luck getting him to admit to that one though)

Beyond that you will have to ask, beg, and plead to get this man to use his tail actively during sex

Despite his chivalry, Zevlor has been around the block and seen pretty much everything during his Hellrider days. But those were different times: here now, with the person he cares for most in the world, everything feels new all over again

Asking him to slip the tip anywhere inside you will render him speechless for a moment

You’ll have the best luck if you’re already naked on top of him when you ask

If you want to give Zevlor his hardest orgasm in a decade, tug and play with the very base of his tail while he’s inside you. He will practically sob against you and finish in record speed

[nayziiz]

Disturbed | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

In the high-stakes world of motorsports, where the roar of engines drowned out all other sounds and the smell of burning rubber hung heavy in the air, Oscar stood as a beacon of unwavering determination. His name was synonymous with calm and resilience, his reputation forged on the anvil of countless hard-fought battles on-track and defying odds by helping keep his team in the running for third in the Constructors Championship. From the moment he first strapped himself into the driver's seat, Oscar had possessed an indomitable spirit that seemed impervious to the twists and turns of the race track.

Race after race, he pushed himself and his car to the very limit in pursuit of glory. Whether navigating treacherous hairpin turns or duelling wheel-to-wheel with his rivals, Oscar never backed down from a challenge. His resolve was unyielding, a relentless force that propelled him forward, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

But for all his unwavering determination, there were moments when he faltered too. It was on one particularly gruelling race day that the cracks in his armour began to show. Everything seemed to conspire against him – mechanical issues, strategic missteps, and a relentless onslaught of bad luck. Each setback chipped away at his confidence, threatening to unravel the very fabric of his resolve.

As the race wore on and Oscar's fortunes continued to decline, a sense of despair settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Doubt crept into his mind, gnawing away at his confidence and sowing seeds of uncertainty. For the first time in his career, he found himself teetering on the brink of defeat, his once unshakable resolve shaken to its core.

Amidst the chaos of the pit lane and the cacophony of roaring engines, there was one constant that anchored Oscar's fraying sanity – her. She was the quiet strength in his corner, the steady presence that never wavered, no matter how tumultuous the storm. Her belief in him was unwavering, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness of doubt.

With each passing lap, she mumbled quiet prayers in the garage. She was his rock, his anchor in the storm, her unwavering support a lifeline in his darkest hour. And though he struggled to find solace in the midst of defeat, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would never truly be alone.

As the chequered flag finally fell and the race came to an end, Oscar found himself staring down the bitter taste of defeat. But in the arms of the one who had stood by him through it all, he discovered a glimmer of hope amidst the wreckage of his shattered dreams.

“Oscar, listen to me,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos of the post-race pit lane like a beacon of clarity. “I know things didn’t go as planned, but you've got this. You've faced tougher challenges before, and you've always come out on top. This is just another step to reaching the top.”

He glanced over at her, his eyes searching for reassurance in the midst of his turmoil.

“But what if this time is different? What if I've finally met my match?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She reached out and gently took his hand, her touch a comforting presence in the midst of his turmoil.

“You're Oscar Piastri,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You're one of the most talented drivers out there, and nothing – not even a bad race – can change that. You have the skill, the determination, and the heart to overcome anything that comes your way.”

In the aftermath of defeat, Oscar realised that his strength did not lie solely in his ability to conquer adversity, but in his capacity to accept defeat with grace and humility. And though the road ahead may be fraught with challenges, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would always find the courage to carry on. For in her unwavering support, he found the resilience to rise from the ashes of defeat and chase his dreams once more.

[mavsstar]

｡･ﾟ𝐎𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Summary︱Ransom comes to spend the holidays with his twin brother, Andy and his fiancé. He can't stand her at all despite her being one of the sweetest people on the earth. Turns out all they needed was to bond.

Pairings︱Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Virgin!Fem!Reader

W.C︱2.8k

Warnings︱It's Ransom, that a big warning in itself, cursing, kissing, pet name: kitten, manipulation, slight coercion (if you blink you'll miss it), oral (f!), cheating, daddy kink

Author's note︱It's been too long and now I'm finally back! This was fun to make and I've had this idea in my head for weeks now! Have fun reading :) Feedback is appreciated!

You adored your fiancé Andy, he was a kindhearted gentleman that loved you with his entire being. You couldn’t ask for more in a man. Everyone around him approved of you and liked you quite a lot.

Well most of them. 

The only person who couldn’t get on board was his twin, Ransom. Though the feelings were mutual. You thought he was too crude and he thought you were too much of a prude. Unlike him, you’ve never vocalized your dislike towards him, preferring to be kind to him even if you wanted to sew his mouth shut. 

The good part was you rarely got to see the man. You were safe from seeing his face anywhere you went. That was until Andy came home with a surprise. 

“Ransom is going to spend the holidays with us this year.” 

You froze. “Excuse me?” 

“There’s too much going on and I won’t be able to make it home this year and Ransom doesn’t want to go spend the holidays with the family,” Andy began to explain, “I don't want him to be alone so I invited him to stay with us.” 

“Which holidays?” You asked, hoping it would just be Thanksgiving. 

“All of them.” 

It felt like someone dropped an anvil on you. He was going to spend at least a month with you in your shared house, day and night. “And he said yes?” You questioned, surprised he even gave Andy an answer. 

“I was surprised too,” he answered. “He’s coming on Thursday.” 

It was Tuesday, meaning you only had a day to prepare. You dropped your shoulders in defeat. “I better start preparing the guest room,” you said as you got up from the couch. 

Andy grabbed your arm as you tried to walk past him, pulling you into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head. “Look I know you two aren’t the best of friends and it’ll be difficult but I want him here with us. Maybe after he really gets to know you, you’ll get along.”

“There’s a better chance of me growing another inch than us getting along.” 

Thursday came a little bit too fast for your liking. One moment you were talking with Andy about Ransom and within a blink of an eye you were at the airport, waiting for him. His flight landed 15 minutes ago and most of the passengers were already off. But he just had to make a fashionably late entrance. 

“There’s my little brother!” Ransom exclaimed. 

“You’re older by a minute,” Andy said as he got up from his seat. 

“A minute and 10 seconds.” Ransom’s answer made Andy playfully roll his eyes. Ransom then turned his attention to you, flashing you a fake smile. “Look who’s here! Did you shrink while I was away? I almost didn’t see you.” 

It was early in the morning. Even more so to be dealing with Ransom’s remarks. You resisted the burning urge to roll your eyes at him. “It’s nice to see you Ransom, I hope you had a nice flight.” 

“It was the absolute worst actually-” He began to complain but it all became white noise to your brain. You just nodded your head as he complained, occasionally saying that must’ve sucked just to make it seem like you were actually paying attention. 

For the first couple of days Andy was able to keep him busy and out of your way but he had to go back to work, leaving you with him all day. At first he would stay for only part of your day, often going out to do something other than being in the house with you. Eventually he just stayed around the house more and more. 

“Are you seriously reading again?” Ransom asked as he plopped down next to you on the couch. 

You quickly tore your gaze from your book to look at Ransom. “Mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, going back to reading your book. 

“Weren’t you just reading this morning?” He asked. 

“I was finishing the last couple of pages. Andy doesn’t like it when I lose sleep to finish reading,” you answered. “This is a different book.” 

“Can I see?”’ He asked with complete sincerity. You then handed him the book only for him to throw it across the room, earning a small ‘Hey!’ from you. “Well stop reading, I’m bored.” 

“What do you want to do?” You asked him as you fully turned your body towards his. 

“If I knew what to do I wouldn’t be here, telling you I’m bored.” 

You decided to ignore his comment and pretend like he never said it in the first place. “Well…we could go grocery shopping.” 

“Grocery shopping? Really?” He questioned, unamused at your suggestion. Much to his dismay, he saw that you were 100% serious. “Fine, let's go.” 

The drive to the grocery store was longer than necessary. Ransom refused to let you drive, part of you figured it was an ego thing but he claimed that a man should always drive. Never the woman. He also refused to use a map, claiming that he knew where he was going. 

After 25 minutes of driving in circles, you finally got to the grocery store. It was practically empty, not a lot of people wanted to do their weekly grocery shopping at 7:27 pm. 

“Now that I’ve been thinking about it, you’re always at the house,” Ransom commented. “Do you not have a job?” 

“Not anymore,” you said as you pushed the cart towards the dairy section. “I used to be a secretary.” 

“Why’d you quit?” 

“Andy said I didn’t have to work anymore and he would take care of me.” You grabbed a gallon of milk and crossed it off your mental grocery list. You started to push the cart down the section towards the produce. “It was too overwhelming for me and Andy didn’t like that I was so stressed out.” 

“How hard can that be?” Ransom scoffed. 

“It’s a lot harder than you think Ransom,” you replied. “It didn’t help that I was one of the few women there. I had a terrible boss.” 

“What do you do all day then? Just sit there and look pretty while you wait for Andy to come home?” 

“I clean, run some errands, go out—I do the same things you do but you don’t seem the type of person to clean or run errands.” 

“Why would I?” He scoffed. “That's why I hired a maid and an assistant to do all that for me.” 

“Not surprised trust fund baby,” you muttered under your breath. 

“What did you say?” Ransom asked, having fully heard you. 

You looked up at him, “Oh nothing,” you lied, you even went as far as to pull out doe eyes. “Oh we need bread!” 

 “No, no, no,” Ransom repeated as he grabbed your upper arm, halting you from moving any further. “Repeat what you said.” 

“I said we need bread.” 

“Before that.” 

“I said nothing,” you answered, unknowingly pushing his buttons in the sweetest way imaginable. 

His hand traveled up your upper arm to your cheeks, slightly squishing them together as he inched closer to your face. You could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“Kitten, repeat what you said, I’m not going to ask again.” 

Your lips parted open but no sound came out. You felt heat pooling from the pit of your stomach rising to your face. You tried to peel your eyes away from his only for him to chase after them. 

“I-I said, not surprised trust fund baby,” you mumbled loud enough so he could hear it.  

The corner of his lip tugged into a sly smirk, “See now was that so hard?” He asked as he dropped his hand. “Good girl.” 

Ransom evoked a spark inside him that night. He noticed how your body went hot under his touch and he loved it. It was as if you have been untouched and you’re just now tasting a man’s touch. You would grow shy under his gaze if he stared at you for too long. You would jump every time his hands brushed your body. 

Ransom’s favorite part was when he would inch his face close to yours and your eyes would dart to his lips right before going back to his eyes. 

Though part of him couldn’t help but think it was all an act. There was no possible way a woman like you could be so innocent. That you would pretend to get flustered everytime he made a sexual innuendo. That you would get uncomfortable and squirm in your seat everytime a sex scene came on. 

It had to be an act. 

Like right now, you were in the kitchen cooking food for you and Ransom. You were wearing Andy’s sweater with a pair of small pj shorts and Ransom had made a crude comment. 

“You and Andy must've had crazy kitchen counter sex if that’s what you wear to cook.” 

“Oh my,” you squeaked out. “We don’t–uh–Andy and I-” 

“Oh please drop the act,” he scoffed.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What act?” 

“That!” Ransom exclaimed. “The pretending you’re all innocent and being such a fucking prude. Everyone has sex, it’s normal.” 

Except you haven’t had sex yet. You always wanted to wait until marriage for personal reasons and Andy didn’t mind one bit. He completely respected your decision and liked the idea of waiting, it’s building tension the two of you would unleash on your wedding night. 

“It’s not an act Ransom,” you answered. “I just don’t feel comfortable talking about…it.”

“You’re kidding me right?” He remarked. He took your silence as a no. Then the realization slowly crept in his mind. “Unless…” 

“Unless what?” You questioned. 

“Unless you’re a virgin? But that’s impossible…right?” His tone was teasing and almost humiliating. 

You felt the shame burn your cheeks and you imagined the words ‘virgin’ written in big red bold letters across your forehead. People have assured you that it’s okay to be a virgin and everyone takes life at a different speed. You were just getting comfortable with it. 

“Answer me kitten.” 

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. 

Ransom swallowed the last 4 steps that were between the two of you. His right hand went under your chin, softly lifting it up. “So he’s never touched you?” Ransom asked as his left hand slowly began to graze your body. 

“No.” Your breath hitched when his large hand rested on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You bumped into his chest with a soft grunt. His hands went to your back when he felt you shift backwards, caging you against him.

“Please let me go Ransom,” you softly pleaded as you tried to pry him off. 

“No,” he said as his head dipped to your neck, placing fervent kisses. “You want this and you know it.” 

“No–ngh–I can’t do this to Andy.” 

Ransom stopped the attack on your neck. You could see it in his face that he was bothered at the mention of his twin brother. “We’re not doing anything bad, kitten. We’re just having fun, you want us to get along, don’t you?” 

“This is bad Ransom, I’m cheating on my fiance,” you protested. “I can’t do this.” Ransom had you in his grip and he wasn’t going to lose you. He refused to. 

“Andy’s cheating on you,” he blurted out. 

“What?” You questioned him. 

“It’s obvious, kitten. How else was he going to stay with you? He’s a man after all and men have needs.” 

"You’re lying,” you argued. “Why should I believe you?” 

“Because I’m his brother and I know the type of person he is.” His hands went underneath your sweater, slithering their way up to your breasts. “So I think we can have some fun. It wouldn’t be fair after all.” 

Ransom’s lips crashed onto yours before you could give an answer. You tasted like the strawberries you were eating just mere minutes ago. With every passing second, his kisses grew hungrier. 

“Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obeyed and lifted yourself off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He blindly stumbled into your bedroom. Carefully, he set you on the bed and unbeknownst to you, he had taken off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. 

His warmed calloused hand went to your thighs, spreading them as fast apart as he could. You were completely soaked. Ransom bit back a moan. “Oh kitten,” he purred. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” Ransom planted open mouth kisses on your ankle, working his way up to your inner thighs. Your head felt dizzy and your body was high off of his touch. When you felt Ransom kiss your cunt, you knew you were a goner. 

“Ransom,” you moaned out. 

“That’s not my name kitten,” Ransom murmured. He looked up at you through his eyelashes as he licked around your pussy lips. “It’s daddy. Now say it.” 

“Please daddy,” you whined. 

“If you stop saying it, I stop. Got it?” 

You rapidly nodded your yes, not trusting your own voice. You let out a strangled moan as Ransom licked a broad stripe against your pussy. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” Ransom let out a moan of satisfaction, sending vibrations through you, making it more pleasurable than you ever imagined. 

Incoherent babbles left your mouth as he made precise, figure eights on your clit. You couldn’t help but lock your legs around his head, never wanting him to leave. You lazily propped yourself up on the bed to watch Ransom but it all went out the window when his lips sucked on your clit. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, your head falling back on the mattress. “Daddy! Feel s’good!” 

Ransom momentarily lifted his head, watching your blissed out state. “I know it does kitten,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Andy could never make you feel like this huh?” 

“No.” 

“I wonder how he would feel that I’m eating his pretty fiancé’s pussy? Making her scream daddy.” Ransom dipped his head back down and went at it again.

 His tongue goes through your fold, licking all your sweet wetness. You felt a familiar sensation only this time it was coming faster and harder. This felt nothing like this when you would play with yourself. 

“Oh daddy!” You screwed your eyes shut as you gripped the sheets. Your lower half took a mind of its own as you began to rock your hips against his face, chasing your high. A gasp fled your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Suddenly the only word you knew was daddy, repeating it as if it was a prayer. 

“How was that, kitten?” Ransom teasingly asked. “Did daddy make you feel good?” 

“Mhm,” you blissfully hummed out. “S’good.” 

“That’s my girl,” Ransom praised as he pulled your shorts back up. “You did so good for me.” Ransom enjoyed watching you, you were spaced out and he didn’t even put his all into it. He could only begin to imagine how you would react when he really got done with you. 

“Now let's go finish cooking before Andy comes home.” He kissed you lips one more time before helping you off the bed.

Andy surprisingly came home earlier than he said he would. Usually would come home at 12, it was currently 10:06 pm. You had barely finished washing the dishes when you heard the door unlock.

“Hi honey!” Andy greeted you as walked over to kiss you. You turned your head to the side and his lips collided with your cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned at your behavior. 

“Nothing,” you answered. “I’m heading off to bed, I’m really tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Goodnighttt,” Ransom sang as you left the room. 

“Goodnight Ransom.” 

Andy waited until you left the room to talk to Ransom. Once he saw he was in the clear, he turned to Ransom. “What the hell did you say to her?” 

“Nothing, why?”  Ransom asked, playing the innocent. “Trouble in paradise?” 

“Drop the act Ransom.” Andy stepped closer to him, placing his hands on his hips. “We were fine a couple days ago and now she’s acting weird. What did you do to her?” 

“I did nothing,” he said as he raised his hands in defense. 

Andy knew he was lying. If he really was telling the truth, he would’ve told him off and stormed off cursing at how his own brother doesn’t believe him. 

“Stay away from her,” Andy seethed through gritted teeth. “Don;t even think about laying a finger on her.” 

“Or what? You’re going to kick me out?” Ransom scoffed. “I saw her first and you took her away from me. I’m simply getting back what’s mine.” 

[springdaydreams]

Gregory House x fem!reader (platonic?)

Warnings : none

Summary : Greg finds out something interesting about you.

Authors note : Not the biggest fan of this, could've been better, but the idea wont leave my head so I wrote it.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

Today was particularly rough, your coffee machine broke down so you had to settle for the crappy coffee in the breakroom, the cafeteria had ran out of your favourite chips, a patient puked on you so you had to change your clothes and by god's grace, all the anti-vaxxers in Jersey decided to come visit you today. Sitting down you let out a sigh, your feet hurt and your head felt like it was being pounded by an anvil closing your eyes in hopes for a fifteen minute shuteye, slowly drowning out the noises of the busy hospital. Suddenly your pager rings, the shrill noise cutting through the room, letting out a sharp exhale you take the pager in your hands and look at it, it’s a page from the NICU, nothing uncommon.

Standing up you rush out of the room, reaching the NICU, the nurse fills you on the patient, a seven month premature baby suffering a sudden attack of patent ductus arteriosus, as the baby flailed around trying to take breaths that he couldn’t catch, you’re held a scalpel your gloved hand tightening around the handle of it, bringing the sharp edge scalpel to the baby’s chest, just as you were about to make a cut the baby stopped breathing. Taking a deep breath you set the scalpel down “time of death?” “Twelve twenty am.” “I’ll go tell the parents.” Removing your gloves you walk out of the NICU towards the maternity ward, walking into the patient’s mother’s room “are you Miss Hennock?” “Yeah, what happened, is he okay?” Biting your lip, fighting back tears, “your son has passed on twelve twenty am.”

“What? How?”

“He suffered from patent ductus arteriosus”

“no no no, that can't be possible.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

The mother broke down in tears. Her screams could be heard by the whole floor, walking out of the maternity ward, the screams still playing in your mind, stopping by a pillar. You rest your back on the pillar, closing your eyes as tears threaten to spill, hugging your body for comfort. After a few seconds of solitude you hear the familiar tapping of a cane, opening your eyes you see Greg House walking, as he reaches you he stops and stares, staring back at him “what?”

With no response he goes back to walking to wherever he was going.

After fifteen minutes of peace the screams of someone interrupt, sighing you decide to go up to the roof. Just as you were climbing the stairs, you reach the breakroom, opening your locker you take you alcohol flask, walking to the roof you sit down on the edge, taking in a deep breath, you open your flask and take a big sip after 15 minutes and a half empty flask you hear the door open, looking back you see House limping towards you.

“Why're you here?”

“You looked like you wanted to die down there, was hoping you didn’t.”

“Awwww, you care about me.”

“Considering you’re slurring, I would like to consider you’ve finished that flask.”

“No, there’s still some.” You shake the flask.

“ So what happened down there?”

“Oh, nothing important.”

“You were on the verge of tears, someone definitely died.”

“Why do you sound so sure?”

“The last time I saw you cry was when one of your patients had died.” he says affirmatively

“Maybe my mom died?”

“Your mom’s been dead for seven years”

“How'd you know?”

“I like snooping, so what's so special today?”

“Nothing just a NICU accident.”

“That's why you're crying?”

“You know what House, lemme tell you a story, sit down” you pat the spot next to you “your crippled leg must hurt.”

As he sat down, “So what's this story about?”

“About ten years ago, in my third year of medical school, I met a man with the prettiest grey eyes, like the clouds on a rainy day.”

“Where is this going?”

“Sush, so we get to talking and a few months into dating he proposes to me and I say yes” “Want some?” you push the flask towards him.

“Yes” he takes the flask from you.

“So anyways, we get married and a few months later I get pregnant, we were so happy”

“You were married?”

“A few months into the pregnancy I start noticing he had started to become distant with me, coming home later than usual, leaving early, talking about that one new nurse that started working at the hospital, so one day i decide to visit him in the hospital, going around the hospital I couldn’t find him so I start to go back when I hear voices in a broom closet and when i open it, I see him and the new nurse he kept talking about, eating eachothers faces.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He notices tears welling in your eyes.

With a shaky voice and a tight chest you continue, “so we had an argument and then he apologised and I thought everything would go back to normal, but it did not, we started to fight more he started to act weird and one day we have a huge argument like plate smashing and yelling, the argument gets so big he threatens to kill himself. We’re standing in the kitchen, he's holding a knife to his neck, i'm standing a few feet away from and we’re yelling and suddenly he cuts his neck, blood spraying everywhere the stress from the event puts me into early labour, I somehow manage to call 911 and then everything was a blur.”

“You are going to regret this in the morning.”

“The next thing I remember is holding my dead baby in my arms.”

He was rendered speechless.

“That's why I was crying, do you miss Stacy?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, he looks at you “yeah, why?”

“I miss him a lot, I loved him and he had to love me, somewhere sometime between the cheating and lying.”

“Stop” he gets up “you’re drunk.”

You smile at him, “I'm sad.”

“Aren’t we all sad?”

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ 𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

fin

[leclercsloveletter]

CL16 | friends or not (pt 2)

Summary: You love Charles, but he keeps you treading on the line between friends and strangers. The humiliation and frustration finally got to you.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem reader

Words count: 2060

Warning: Google translated French

Author's note: Thank you for your support on my first ever fic here! I’m so shock everyone wanted a part 2 so I stayed up til 4AM for this🫶

Life without Charles is just normal life 90% of the time, other than the fact that you allow yourself to see other people. You wish it was easy to indulge in others after him.

Charles lingers as the silent architect of your thoughts, he made a home in your gut and sucked you dry of the ability to spare anyone else half the intimacy you gave him. The touch of others only serves as a poignant reminder of the electrifying chemistry your body once had with him. So when Lando's rough hand rests on your waist, it weighs like an anvil, sinking you onto the floor of the FIA's gala.

Going out with your somewhat ex's coworker isn't the brightest idea, but Monaco is a small place. Once you get roped up into the circle of drivers and their little games, it's hard to get out with your dignity intact. Besides, Lando was one that you can confidently rely on. He was there and he was listening when Charles decided you weren't worthy of his time. Maybe he was waiting for you to break so he could come in, and snatch you up like a vulture for himself, it doesn't matter anymore.

"Darling, are you alright?"

"Yea I'm good Lando, I'm just dreading a bit"

You appreciate Lando breaking the flow of conversation just to check up on you. He let out a sigh before holding you closer

"Y/n, it's okay. I asked so he would be seated at the other end of the table. I know we aren't a committed item yet and it's not in my position to say this but, be mine for tonight, please?"

He held one of your hands in his, giving it a small kiss. He was so kind, so charming, so convincing that you smile back and nod. Lando leans in for a quick kiss that you reciprocate, ignoring every fibre in your body that's screaming from someone's gaze at the other end of the room.

Charles's and your body are in tune in a mysterious way, so when he walks into the gala with his new girl, the air in your lungs thickens into syrup. With his crisp suit, new haircut, and a girl he seems to care more about, Charles looks like a vessel of the Charlie that once had you. Except for the cufflinks you gave him when he won in F2, you wonder if his girl knew. But you already promised Lando that you would be his for tonight, to give him the undivided attention that anyone deserves from their partner. So you lean in closer to him and let his words flow through your head.

Time passes, the alcohol kicks into your system has dulled out and now waiting to be excreted. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom, someone was in there too.

"Oh hey, you're Lando's girlfriend?"

She was beautiful, elegant, and kind. In a red dress that hugged her body exactly where she wanted it to be, her posture so proper it put ballerinas to shame. A girl worthy of Charles's time.

"That's me, I'm Y/n L/n. I see you with Leclerc?"

"Yeah, I'm Charlotte, nice to meet you."

You shake hands, and although you both look well groomed, nails and hair freshly done, you can't help but feel humiliated by her. You both exchange some words and follow each other on Instagram before she returns to her table and you find a stall to sit in silence. Jealousy is a fitting word, humbled is one too, there were so many noises buzzing through your head at once. You need a smoke before going back into that room.

Paris is cold at night, the jacket hung loosely on your shoulders was supposed to be nothing more than a decoration so you shivered when pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. You shoot Lando a text so he knows you're fine and just need a break from the event, he replies with "Gotcha darling, stay warm" and a cutesy emoji, you feel bad for him.

"Still haven't quit smoking Y/n?"

Oh that voice, the voice that makes you want to drop everything to punch him in the face and then kiss him through the blood.

"I think I'll be committed to it until it takes me out, Charles."

"So, how's life?"

The 3 words take you right back to that night in Monte Carlo, it wasn't that long ago, but in your misery, it felt like the previous life.

"Doin' pretty well, got me a cute boy. Doing my master's degree right now, new job, new car, what a life."

"You miss me so much you swoop down to date my friend Y/n?"

"Bold of you to assume everything is about you."

You replied sharply, the embers of the cigarette gazing at your fingertips before you threw it over the balcony you were standing on. The audacity he has is astonishing sometimes, you turn to him

"My life before was all about you, everything I did was for you. Now? I want nothing to do with you Leclerc, I'm sorry that your coworker likes me and he actually cares for me when you weren't around."

Charles was frozen to the ground, he didn't expect such an outburst, not that he would ever. You look at him for a moment, stunned that after everything, all the changes and pain you went through, he made no progress. You walk past him to go back inside, not without putting a hand on his shoulder with a sigh

"Charlotte seems nice, treat her well."

-

Lando was shocked when you told him you're moving to Milan to finish up your last year of master's. He was borderline begging for you to stay despite the whole non-committed thing you guys have. It's funny how you ran away from a situationship to have a new one that lasted more than a year, at least this one was healthier.

"Lando hun, I'm sorry. But I can't stay in Monaco for now, I need something else just for a moment. I'll keep in contact yeah? I'll update you on Pierre and Yuki too."

You hold him tight, there are no tears but only a shared understanding that you both won't work out and mostly, he knew you need to get away from Charles. Neither you nor Lando can live under that shadow, it's merciful that you let each other be. Even when you have to deny the attraction you held for the driver. Packing was easy enough, with boxes of stuff already being shipped to Italy and pictures of Pierre unpacking and messing with your decors in the new flat have been sent.

Your phone buzzes menacingly

"I heard you're moving to Milan, safe trip."

"Thank you, Charles, will tell Pierre you said hi."

Even in moments like this, he taunted you. He's everywhere in your apartment, at the same time, left nothing behind but you. You know when the plane lands in Milan, it will be a true new life. Maybe fate will let you live there, somewhere in Sicily or Naples sipping on limoncello and wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

"Motherfucker, Pierre you didn't tell me Milan was going to be hot as hell?!"

"I thought you checked the weather?! Don't blame me?!"

Banter with Pierre flows smoothly, if there is someone who complimented your insanity, it's Pierre. It's scary how he also possessed the ability to read you like a book, Frenchmen have superpowers you guessed. What you didn't expect however was sitting on the balcony of your new apartment over a glass of wine while he questioned your motive for moving to Milan.

"I know you won't just move here if you still can tolerate his existence Y/n. What was the final straw?"

"There was none, Pierre, it's just nothing was working out and I need a change-"

"Ferme ta gueule Y/n, I knew you both too well for you to think I would believe that"

You pull your legs up to your chest, getting cozy on the beanbag before chugging the whole glass of wine. Pierre has been out of the loop so you told him everything, the catch-up dinner when you broke it off with him, the gala where you both brought someone new and that balcony conversation. Even the little ones like him acting so nonchalantly and saying hi to you on the street or the "safe trip" text. Pierre listens without judgement, although if you add your own hesitancy in there, you would deserve every colourful insult he could think of.

"And do you wanna know the funniest thing is? He never realised where he went wrong, he never truly understood why or how. I'm the villain in his story because I broke his heart. Meanwhile, he shattered my fucking entire existence."

"Do you still love him then?"

"I do Pierre, with every breathing moment."

-

You have to go see Monza, Pierre and Yuki basically dragged you there despite your objection of "I will support you at home on TV". So now you're walking around in the hospitality area, munching on some rather good croissants. Pierre shot you a text to come down to the paddock which you reluctantly agree to.

"Come down with us!! @ AlphaTauri paddock right now."

The AlphaTauri paddock is a bit of a walk away, so naturally, you passed by the Ferrari's. Seeing his face plastered on the paddock wasn't a fun experience but it's fine you said. Until the actual model of those pictures caught you off guard.

"Hey"

Every cell on your body screams the fire you thought you diminished lit up like the Olympic torch. You turn around to see Charles in his race suit, painfully beautiful and surprisingly alone.

"Hi Charles, I'm on my way to Yuki and Pierre. Good luck for today."

Before you can leave, he grabs your arm and you let him pull you back. For the first time, he actually tried to hang on to you.

"Uh, I'm free tonight, I want to talk but over dinner of course. Will you?"

Saying no to Charles Leclerc is like forcing you to shoot an elderly lady in the head. It's impossible and unnatural for you to even consider denying him of anything. And it didn't help when he added

"S'il vous plaît?"

Charles was never one to ask you for something with "please". Your body was always given in a heated clash of tongue and teeth, your soul is even worse. But something shook in you, Charles saying "please" like he's begging for you to spare him your time. The time that you deserved.

"Alright, usual time?"

"Usual time"

He won in Monza that day.

-

"So, how's life?"

Same question, every time, like clockwork. But this time you're in Monza, next to some random canal reflecting the city on its ever-moving water.

"I'm sorry"

"You what?"

Charles' words stunned you. You don't know how to feel, isn't this what you were waiting for? Him to be sorry so you can run back into his arms and love him once more?

"I'm sorry for being hot and cold, I'm sorry for leading you on Y/n. I'm sorry for not seeing your side and wasting your youth. I always wanted us but I was stupid to fuck it up. So please-"

"Stop right there."

Charles looks up in shock, his eyes are almost brimming with tears. You release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Thank you for apologising, I don't forgive you, Charlie. I don't think I can. So if you're asking me to leave it all behind and act like you didn't throw me down the trenches then don't. However..."

Your heart beats so loudly, that you can feel the blood rushing and the fire coursing through your veins.

"I believe in redemption. So hi, my name is Y/n L/n"

You give out a hand for him to shake, vision starting to blur from tears. Charles stares at your outreaching hand for a moment before grabbing it with speed and strength, as if you would regret it any moment.

"Hi, I'm Charles, Charles Leclerc."

"Like the F1 driver? I think we will be great friends then"

Monza never shines brighter, maybe even more than Monte Carlo.

"I hope so too"

Tag list for this fic: @janeholt3

[lazysublimeengineer]

Birth Order Theory: The Anvil of Responsibilities of Being The Oldest

I've read something interesting about new official informations about Rin & Sae from Kaneshiro:

• Sae doesn't see himself fighting with Rin. The author thinks that Sae is more like “Why is my younger brother picking a fight with me like that?”

Ik that a lot of people have been surprised at this tidbit but considering Sae's behavior and personality, it's not really a farfetched line of thought to him.

Which is why this brings the attention of Alfred Adler's Birth Order Theory in theories of personality as the theory's core idea is that the birth order of a person shapes the person's personality and attitude.

I remembered that I did bring this theory back in Kiyora and how his backstory is related to it but it's interesting to note on how this is also related to Sae's life and story with his family in general.

According to Adler, "firstborn children typically have higher expectations placed upon them by parents and thus develop a greater sense of responsibility and ambition."

Noticed that in Rin's backstory in this match, it is revealed that when they're younger Sae has been taking care of him albeit in a "practical way." He's the acting second parent of his brother when their parents are unable to immediately fulfill on that role because of some other factors which might be a career related scope hence it is the "oldest child" whose responsibility to take care of their younger siblings and placed higher expectations around them.

Typically, these children are the usual achievers and the most matured of the siblings. However, the downside of it is that the other people can see them as bossy, blunt and overly ambitious.

When Rin and Sae had a fallout during that snowy scene in the manga, it's one of their major fights between the two of them. But I'd like to interpret Kaneshiro's words about the new information if we're going to step into Sae's shoes for a moment. In his own perspective, it's not him fighting with his brother but him enacting his "tough love" on him because he experienced firsthand on how harsh and cold reality could be for geniuses in other countries. It's him acting out as a "parent" to his brother to toughen himself out because it's a shit world out there. Sae was clearly hurt by Rin's words in their confrontation but I gathered that Sae was in his "tough skin mode" to let it deter him. The core strength of his character had also become one of his weaknesses as he failed to understand on how his words must've cut deeply to Rin especially his younger brother idolized him and place him on a pedestal. That's why he can't imagine fighting with him because he's always acting tough for the two of them and he was taught of some adult responsibilities when he was young.

Can't believed that Adler's theory will be relevant as Freud's Psychoanalytic theory in Blue Lock but here we are once again.

[ladamedusoif]

Tempered in the Fire (Blacksmith!Din Djarin AU) - Masterlist

With his hammer in his hand/He looked right clever… (‘The Blacksmith’, British or Irish folk song from the early nineteenth century)

Series Summary:

Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798 was brutally suppressed. In this seemingly quiet part of the country, the people work the land and stay quiet about the recent past. You are an unusual woman in this little world: married, but living alone; a widow, with no certainty that her husband is dead. You have made your own life since he vanished into thin air, managing the smallholding you live on and making some extra money through your skills as a seamstress.

This is a time when the local blacksmith is at the heart of any rural community. One such smith is a man of few words, whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals, but whose skills with hammer and anvil have rendered him indispensable. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel on to this man’s forge - and are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure…

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (series); Explicit (eventual chapters)

Content: Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; references to violence; references to domestic abuse; period-appropriate terminology and misogyny; anti-Travelling people discrimination; alcohol; strong language; explicit smut (eventually); technical infidelity; almost certainly incorrect depictions of blacksmithing; some slightly dodgy history (I literally took advanced seminars in this topic but come on, it’s fic); most likely some not quite correct Irish language content (again, I studied it for years so forgive me and move on).

Cross-posted to AO3.

Author’s Note: I spotted a sign at Disneyland for ‘Rose’s Forge’ and @julesonrecord and @lunapascal were immediately on the “which P boy would be a blacksmith?” train. And there’s only one answer, isn’t there? It’s Din.

This is intended as a short series of around four chapters - essentially a chance for me to scratch the blacksmith!Din itch, while also indulging in some historical fiction set in my homeland. In part, it’s inspired by the image of the blacksmith in eighteenth and nineteenth century popular culture and their role in supplying rebel weaponry in the 1798 uprising against British rule.

And it’s also inspired by the image of Din sweaty and beautiful at an anvil, because why the hell not?

The image I’ve used for the header image, by the way, is a wonderful engraving from about 1833 by the French artist Eugène Delacroix, who’s one of my absolute favourites. It’s called ‘Un Forgeron’ (A Blacksmith) and you can see it in all its glory here. (Yes, it’s hot as fuck.)

Chapter List:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four