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eu-nicola · 3 days ago

Text

the finish line part 2

part 1 part 3

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: love triangle, forbidden relationship, tension, infidelity, etc

word counter: 8107

author's note: english is not my first language

mention: @drama-lama-mother @bunnies-p1tst0p

After an intense night, dawn came too quickly. Lando had to fly early to Qatar for his next race, and although you always tried to accompany him, this time your own commitments kept you in another direction.

You gathered your things and went down with him to the car that would take you to the airport. The journey passed in silence, and both of you clung to that last shared moment. Once at the airport, you took his hand and gave him a supportive smile. As you said goodbye, Lando hugged you tightly, as if he wanted to retain some of your energy for the days you would be apart.

“Take care and don’t forget to send me news,” he said, giving you a kiss on the forehead before moving away.

“Of course. And you, don’t forget to sleep,” you answered with a smile. “And to win, if you can.”

You both laughed, and after one last hug, Lando headed towards his boarding gate. You followed him with your eyes until he disappeared into the crowd.

Once Lando left, you headed to your gate. The flight to Monaco awaited you. You would spend a few days busy with your own obligations, but there was something about that little distance that also gave you space to reflect.

During the flight, you tried to focus on the tasks at hand, but your mind inevitably wandered to the race and to Max. The memory of the party was still fresh in your mind: his smile, his unavoidable presence in the lounge, and that spark that always lit in you, even when you didn't want to admit it.

When the plane landed in Monaco, you felt grateful to have a few days to yourself, although you also knew that you couldn't completely escape the thoughts you carried with you.

As soon as Lando landed in Qatar, your phone buzzed with his message. “Landed and ready to start the week. Missing you already,” the text read, accompanied by a couple of smiley emojis. The simplicity of the message brought a smile to your face and you responded without hesitation, sending him encouragement and reminding him that you would be watching every session of the race weekend.

However, during those days in Monaco, between relaxing walks and afternoons in cafes overlooking the harbour, there was something that disturbed the peace you were trying to maintain: the complete absence of news from Max. The last time they had spoken by text, the conversation had extended longer than you had expected. It had been casual, almost innocent, but a part of you had felt that something had been left hanging. That something, perhaps, could continue if one of you took the next step.

And yet, not a single message. Nothing. The days passed, and though you hated to admit it, every time your phone vibrated with a notification, a spark of anticipation would rise in your chest, only to die down when it wasn’t him. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t going to be the one to break the silence, that if Max wanted to talk, he would have to do it. You weren’t going to give him that privilege of knowing that you had been waiting for something from him.

Despite this, you couldn’t ignore the latent annoyance that built up with each passing day. Why had he shared so much in those previous messages if now it seemed to just disappear? It wasn’t logical. To push the doubts out of your mind, you immersed yourself in your affairs at home.

As the race weekend approached, you tried to convince yourself that this was all just a whim of your mind, that Max was just another driver in a world where competition and ego were always at the forefront. It didn’t mean anything, right?

Well, it did mean that, the sun was softly streaming through the window as you enjoyed a quiet breakfast on the small balcony of your apartment.

Suddenly, a notification lit up your phone screen. At first, you ignored the impulse to look at it right away, not wanting to admit that you were so attentive. However, curiosity won out and as you looked, your eyes widened a little more. It was Max.

"Why aren't you in Qatar?" the message said, direct and blunt. "I thought you would arrive a few days later. Aren't you coming?"

For a moment, the message left you unsure of what to respond to. After so many days of silence, it seemed like it was the most normal thing in the world. You bit your lip, trying to decide whether to ignore it or respond, and finally, the frustration you had been building up for days came to the surface.

"It's none of your business, Max," you wrote back, in an attempt to keep your distance, to make him see that his disappearance had been noticeable.

It was only a few seconds before his response appeared. It was almost like he had been waiting for a sign from you. “I didn’t know you missed me,” he replied, accompanied by a smile emoji, as if this was all a game to him. “Seriously, I thought you would come.”

You shook your head, trying not to fall for his game, but then a new text came through. “Maybe you’re not coming because you know what’s going to happen,” he wrote. “I’m going to win. Don’t you want to come watch? This time, it’ll be my new championship.”

You felt a pang of nerves mixed with something you didn’t want to admit. Still, you resisted. You didn’t want him to think that only his words could convince you.

“What makes you think I care?” you wrote back, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I know,” he replied immediately. “I felt it at the last race. And I know you felt it too.”

You took a breath, feeling those words land right where you didn’t want them. Your pride forced you not to answer, to let the conversation hang in the air. So you put your phone away and decided to ignore him for the rest of the day. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t going to fall for him, that his ego wasn’t your responsibility. However, as the hours passed, the phone continued to vibrate from time to time. Each message from him added a little spark of intrigue, and although you didn’t read them right away, you knew Max wasn’t giving up.

Finally, after hours of silence on your part, you opened the conversation. There were more messages, each one a little more persuasive than the last.

“You know I want to see you? I can’t shake the idea that you should be here,” one said. And then, another text, reading it almost as if you heard it: “Come to Qatar. Not to see him. Come to see me.”

At some point in the afternoon, Max became more direct, his words more forceful. “I want you to be there when I become champion. There is no other time like this, and you know you want to see it. And I want to see you.”

Those last words echoed through your mind, even though you wanted to downplay it. You were on the verge of doubt, trying to hold firm, but the intensity of his messages shook that resistance.

You didn’t respond, at least not that night.

The next morning, after a night in which your thoughts had kept you awake, you decided you could no longer resist. In an attempt to convince yourself, though, you chose your words carefully. You picked up the phone and, after a moment of hesitation, texted Max.

“I’m going to Qatar,” you began, keeping your tone neutral. "But not to see you. I'm going to get Lando."

The text went out and you stared at the screen, knowing that his response wouldn't take long. And sure enough, within a few seconds, the incoming message icon lit up your screen.

"Sure, sure," Max replied, and you could even imagine his mocking smile as you read. "Just for Lando, right? Let's just say I believe it."

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to respond to his sarcasm. It was frustrating that he was so clear about the effect he had on you, that he knew exactly how to play with words to provoke you. You decided that the best response was to ignore him, so without giving it another thought, you put the phone aside and focused on another important task before leaving: calling Lando.

Hearing his voice on the other end of the line calmed something in you. The simplicity and sincerity that Lando conveyed to you was a refuge, and that was exactly what you needed at that moment.

—Hey, how are you? —you asked, trying to sound casual.

—Well, a little tired after all the training —he answered, and you could imagine him in some room of the hotel, surrounded by the preparations for the race week.

—Listen… —you took a breath—. I've been thinking, and I'm going to go to Qatar. I want to see you. I miss you.

There was a small silence on the other end of the line, and although it only lasted a second, you felt it like an eternal heartbeat. Lando seemed surprised, and perhaps even a little nervous.

—Really? —he finally said, his voice sounding incredulous—. Well, yeah, sure… Come on, I'd love for you to be here.

It comforted you to hear it, although in some corner of your mind you felt that the main reason for this trip was not so simple. Despite everything, you wanted to be with him, and the idea of cheering him in person while he competed excited you. Lando didn't need too many explanations, and you were grateful for that, because you weren't prepared to give them either.

—Perfect, I’ll see you soon then —you said, smiling through the line. He sighed, and though there was a hint of strangeness in his voice, he seemed genuinely excited.

—Yeah, I can’t wait —he replied, and after a few more words, you hung up the call.

You wasted no time. As soon as you got off the call with Lando, you sprang into action. You moved around the apartment almost mindlessly, gathering the things you would need for the trip. Fresh clothes for the scorching Qatar weather, something fancy for whatever evening event was coming up, and, of course, your race tickets. The excitement began to grow with each item of clothing you folded and packed into your suitcase.

When you went in to check the flights, you found that there was only one that would fit in to get you to the first practice the next day on time. It left at 3 in the morning, which meant you would barely get any sleep, but the thought of getting there early and surprising Lando at the track gave you the motivation you needed. You bought the ticket without hesitation.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of preparations. You tried to go to bed early, but with every passing second, your thoughts became intertwined: the idea of meeting up with Lando again and, deep down, the tingle of knowing that Max would be there too.

At 2:00 am, you grabbed your suitcase and left the house, feeling the mix of tiredness and excitement coming in waves. You arrived at the airport just in time and, while waiting to board, you checked your phone one last time. There was a notification from Max.

“On my way?” the message read, simple and direct. He knew you weren’t going to be able to resist going.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to answer or ignore him again. But finally, with a sigh, you decided to put your phone away. If he wanted to know, he could just keep wondering.

You got on the plane and, although you tried to sleep, your thoughts wouldn’t let you rest. With each passing hour, you felt the mix of emotions increase: the anticipation of seeing Lando, and the intrigue of how you would feel when you saw Max in person, after that series of messages that had stirred you so much.

At 11:00 am, you landed in the hot climate of Qatar. You got off the plane and, while you waited for your bags, you wondered what would come next.

After collecting your bags, you quickly headed to the exit and raised your hand to call a taxi. You barely gave the driver the address of your hotel, you leaned back in the seat and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm the mix of emotions that invaded you. The ride was short, and soon you found yourself in the lobby of an elegant hotel, just a few blocks from where you knew Lando was staying.

Once you were in your room and put your suitcase aside, you took out your phone to send him a message. “I arrived. “I’m at the hotel I mentioned. Let me know when you’re free.” You took a few seconds before texting him the exact location, wanting to surprise him a little more. It wasn’t long before Lando responded.

“You’re here! That’s great. I’m pretty busy today, but I’m trying to make time to see you. I’m glad you got here safely.”

You smiled as you read the message, but you had barely finished reading when another notification popped up on your screen. It was from Max.

“So you’re here already?” his message read. “I’m right next to Lando, you know? I saw him checking his phone and I knew right away it was you. I’m coming to see you as soon as I can.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the rapid pace of your heartbeat. Even though you couldn’t see his expression, you could perfectly imagine the satisfied smile on his face when he knew you were in Qatar. He knew he was going to make it so you were there, which was part of what motivated him.

You decided not to respond right away and just let him wait. You left your phone on the bed, and went to take a quick shower, trying to cool off and clear your mind. But even the water didn’t seem to dispel the mix of emotions that were brewing inside you.

When you returned to your phone, you saw that there were no more messages from Lando, but Max had left another, short and to the point: “See you soon.”

The next day, the atmosphere at the track was charged with excitement and tension. It was qualifying day, and all the teams seemed to have the same goal in mind: pole position. You knew that this day was crucial for Lando, who had prepared every detail, every corner, every braking with precision. You had only received a couple of quick messages from him since you arrived, which was not unusual. You knew that when it came to racing, Lando completely immersed himself in his world, seeking perfection on every lap. You didn't want to disturb him or interrupt his concentration, so you decided to support him in silence.

Arriving at the McLaren paddock, you greeted some members of the team and took a place near the screens where you could watch the live broadcast and the times of each driver. Nerves invaded you as you watched the cars preparing to go out on the track, the roar of the engines increasing the adrenaline in the air.

Even though you had gone there to support Lando, a part of you couldn't help but think of Max. You knew he was also going for that pole with the same intensity, maybe even more, and you found yourself in a strange dilemma, unable to define if your expectation was for Lando, for Max, or for the confrontation between the two.

Qualifying began, and on the screen you saw the times go by quickly. Lando's car was fast, his times were among the best in each sector, and you felt the excitement and pride of his performance. You knew how much it meant to him to get that pole, and watching him fight for every tenth kept you on the edge of your seat.

But then, the screen showed Max's times. Impeccable, calculated and fast. He seemed to push the limits with every lap, and his name went up and down the scoreboard in a constant battle with Lando. You couldn't help but hold your breath every time their names changed positions.

Qualifying moved quickly. Q1 began and from the start Max made it clear that he was going to be hard to beat. On every lap, in every sector, his times stood out above the rest, marking a solid lead that everyone in the paddock noticed. Every time his name appeared at the top of the screen, you felt a mixture of pride and a strange uneasiness, as if you were witnessing something inevitable.

Lando was also doing an excellent job. His times kept him in the lead, securing his passage to the next round, but he couldn't get past Max. It was as if the track belonged solely to the Dutchman at that point.

Q2 came, and the competition intensified. The top drivers brought out the best in their abilities, and the times became tighter. Despite the pressure, Max continued to lead each lap with almost insulting ease. Lando, for his part, held firm, striving to close the gap.

The time came for Q3, the final round. The teams made their adjustments, and the tension in the air was almost tangible. This was all or nothing, and both Max and Lando looked ready to leave it all on the track. You watched intently as the first out was Max. His lap was flawless, every corner taken with precision, every braking at just the right point. The time he set was impressive, setting a pace that few, if any, could match.

Lando left shortly after, and the McLaren team held their breath as he completed his lap. The times were very close, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Max kept his place at the top of the leaderboard, securing pole, and Lando was right behind him in second.

As the clock ticked down to the end of Q3, the result was final: Max would start the race from pole, with Lando beside him on the front row. All around you, the excitement in the McLaren paddock was palpable, but there was also a mix of frustration. You knew the team had gambled everything to get pole, and that Lando had given it his all. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement at seeing Max there, dominant, certain that he had achieved his goal.

As the teams began to pull out and the drivers prepared for interviews, you received a notification on your phone. It was a text from Max.

Max: “Are you going to be there tomorrow?” It would be a shame if you missed it.”

You read the message and couldn’t help but smile, although you refused to let him know the effect his words had on you.

After qualifying Lando wasn’t in the best mood at the end of the day. Although he had the satisfaction of starting in the front row, you knew that second place wasn’t what he really wanted. But while he was immersed in strategy and mental preparation, you felt that you needed a break too.

Back at your hotel, you tried to relax to clear your mind and prepare for what would be an intense day. You lay back on the bed, letting yourself be carried away by the soft tranquility of the room, when your phone vibrated. Unlocking it, you saw Max’s name on the screen. He had been the one to start the conversation that morning, and since then the messages hadn’t stopped.

“Everything ready for tomorrow?” he had written, with that confident tone that always seemed to surround him.

“That depends on who you ask,” you replied, keeping the conversation on safe ground.

“And you? Ready to see me win the championship?” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Max seemed so sure of his victory that, for a moment, you found yourself believing it too.

“So you’re that confident already?” you typed back, trying to downplay it.

“Of course,” he replied quickly. “I’m going to win, and the best part is that you’re going to be there to see it.”

A tingle ran down your spine, a mix of anticipation and the strange energy that only he seemed to bring out in you. You tried to hide your excitement, but his answer came before you could even type anything else.

“And I want you at the celebration, huh? No hiding. You’re going to party with me.”

You checked the message, trying to decipher the tone behind his words.

“I wouldn’t be so sure yet,” you finally typed, trying to regain control of the conversation. “The race can take many turns, you know?”

“You’ll realize,” Max replied. “Tomorrow, when I’m holding up the trophy, you’ll know I was right.”

For the rest of the day you spent in complete isolation, with those messages in mind, feeling their words repeating themselves in your head. With nothing urgent to do, you ordered room service and decided to stay in the room, in an attempt to clear your thoughts before the big day.

When the day of the race dawned, you prepared yourself with special dedication. You knew that the paddock would be full of stares and cameras, and you wanted to rise to the occasion. You chose a fitted white dress that highlighted your figure, with delicate gold details that sparkled in the sunlight. You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror, giving yourself courage to face what would be a long and intense day.

Arriving at the track with Lando, the excitement in the air was palpable. The energy and expectations made each step more exciting than the last. While he headed to a meeting with the team, you decided to take a stroll through the paddock, admiring the hustle and bustle and feeling the adrenaline that always filled you when you were surrounded by the cars and drivers. You had done this many times, and you always enjoyed exploring every corner of the place.

It was in one of those hallways that you saw him: Max was there, standing, talking to a woman you recognized immediately. Kelly. The same Kelly that there had been rumors that he was dating for months. The surprise was immediate, and before you could contain yourself, you stood watching them. Max and her were chatting away, and he, aware of your presence, barely turned his head and looked at you with a half smile. The spark of defiance in his gaze infuriated you even more.

You couldn’t contain the urge to look at him defiantly, letting him see in your eyes that you weren’t the least bit impressed. Or at least, that was what you wanted to convey. However, the mix of anger and jealousy was becoming more and more evident, so, before you let yourself be affected, you turned around and walked away quickly, feeling the heat on your cheeks. Max knew perfectly well what he was doing, and it bothered you to realize that he understood how you felt.

It wasn’t long before your phone vibrated in your hand. It was Max.

“Jealous?” the text said, with that mocking tone that you perfectly imagined.

You rolled your eyes, not intending to fall for his game, but your fingers moved quickly over the screen. “Please. I have better things to do than worry about that.”

“That’s what all jealous people say.” His response came in seconds, with a wink in the text that made you press your lips together, annoyed. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

“You’re hallucinating, Max,” you replied, feeling your patience slipping away.

“I don’t think so,” he replied bluntly. “Because at the end of this, I’m going to have you, regardless of your little boyfriend.”

You stared at the message, unsure of how to respond to such a direct statement. It was almost as if he had already decided the outcome and was just waiting for the right moment to make it happen. The confidence with which Max spoke made your hands shake, and deep down, even though you refused to admit it, a part of you was tempted by his words.

You swallowed deeply, closing the conversation without answering, trying to focus on the real purpose of being there: supporting Lando.

When night fell on the circuit, transforming the track into a spectacle of light and shadow. The excitement of a night race in Qatar filled the air, and as you walked towards the paddock, you felt the energy of the place resonate in your chest. Everything was ready for the big moment; The cars had been checked, the teams were in position, and the atmosphere was so electric that you could barely contain your excitement.

As you reached the McLaren area, you noticed that the entire team was focused on their screens and communications.

From your spot in the paddock, you could see the starting grid. The cars lined up under the bright lighting of the circuit, reflecting the glare of the spotlights and cameras that captured every detail.

Time seemed to stand still as the traffic lights came on, one by one, until, finally, they went out, and the deafening roar of the engines filled the air. The cars launched themselves towards the first corner, and from the start, the fight between Max and Lando was fierce. Lando had had an excellent start, almost at the same level as Max, and in the first laps he stayed close to his rival, pushing whenever he could, looking for the perfect gap to overtake him.

In the tight corners, both drove to the limit, taking advantage of every millimeter of the track. Max did not give up ground, defending himself with precision and blocking each attempt by Lando. Every time Max closed the line, it was as if he was issuing a silent challenge, telling him without words that he wasn't going to give in. From the paddock, you could barely breathe, following every move with your heart in your mouth.

The tension mounted lap after lap. Max and Lando's cars seemed to dance on the track, in an almost choreographed showdown in which neither of them allowed the slightest error. As the race progressed, Lando tried several times to find an overtaking line, but Max anticipated every maneuver, frustrating all his efforts.

As they reached the halfway point of the race, Lando finally found a small opportunity. Taking advantage of a stretch of the main straight, he attempted an inside pass, going wheel-to-wheel with Max. From where you were, it looked like he would succeed; however, Max responded immediately, braking at the last second and forcing him to take a wider line into the next corner. The crowd held their breath as the cars nearly touched each other, and you felt the adrenaline keep you on the edge of your seat.

You knew this was the kind of rivalry that defined championships. Max and Lando weren't just competing for points; each was fighting to prove their worth, to prove who was the true leader on the track that night. And even though you were there to support Lando, you couldn't help but feel the same thrill every time you saw Max hold his own with that mastery of his. It was a combination of talent and confidence that was almost hypnotic.

In the final laps, the intensity reached its peak. The two drivers pulled away from the rest of the field, and every corner, every straight, was a battle of nerves. Lando stayed glued to Max, looking for any opportunity to snatch the lead. But Max, with the calm of someone who knows victory is within reach, continued to maintain his lead, showing why he was on the cusp of securing the championship.

Finally, the final lap arrived. Lando made one last desperate attempt to overtake him in one of the final corners, but Max, with an impeccable move, held the line and blocked the way. The cars crossed the finish line, and Max’s name appeared at the top of the screen as the winner of the race… and the new world champion.

The roar of the crowd filled the air as Max pumped his fist from the cockpit, celebrating his victory. Lando had driven a spectacular race, coming so close to victory, but the result was clear. You looked over at the Red Bull area, where Max's team was celebrating euphorically, and you were surprised to see yourself smiling, despite everything. You had witnessed an unforgettable race, one that would go down in history.

After crossing the finish line, Max's celebration was immediate. As soon as he got out of his car, he threw himself into the arms of his team, surrounded by applause and cheers. The members of Red Bull greeted him with hugs and pats on the back, some even with tears of emotion. The image was shocking; Max, with his helmet still on and his arm raised, had become champion once again, and the whole world was there to see it.

Meanwhile, you remained in the McLaren paddock, waiting for the trophy ceremony with the engineers and other members of the team. Although second place was not what Lando had dreamed of, you were proud of him. His effort on the track had been spectacular.

From your position, you could see Max take off his helmet and raise his arms towards the crowd, who responded with cheers and shouts. The smile on his face was radiant, filled with a satisfaction that he couldn't hide, and seeing him like that, it was impossible not to feel a mix of admiration and... something more. You shook your head, trying to erase those thoughts, focusing on the moment that was unfolding on the track.

The national anthems echoed throughout the circuit. First, the anthem of Max's country, which he listened to with an expression of almost solemn pride, looking towards the horizon. In that instant, everything seemed to stop; the whole world was focused on him. Then, the Red Bull anthem, as the team members cheered and applauded from below. Lando, seeing the presentation of the trophies and the cheers of the fans, smiled sideways, and although frustration was evident in his eyes, he was also grateful for the opportunity and the recognition of his great career.

You silently watched every moment, every emotion captured on their faces. When Lando received his second place trophy, he turned slightly to where you knew you were, giving you a quick glance that seemed to say, “I tried.” You smiled at him, your heart full of pride, giving him a small gesture of encouragement to let him know you were there for him.

The most anticipated moment came at the end, when Max raised his championship trophy, and a shower of champagne began to fall on the podium. The drivers opened their bottles, spraying each other and celebrating in their own way, while the audience continued to cheer. The emotion was indescribable; the lights, the sound, the applause, everything combined in an explosion of joy. Max glanced down, and although he was surrounded by his own teammates, you noticed that his gaze went directly to you, as if he were looking for you in the crowd. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips when his eyes met yours, and you raised an eyebrow, letting him notice that, despite everything, you were impressed.

The applause continued as the drivers left the podium, and you stayed there for a moment longer, taking in the mix of emotions that the race had left behind.

As soon as they stepped off the podium, the festive atmosphere became tense. Max, still in a state of euphoria over his victory, walked through the corridors of the paddock surrounded by his team. Lando, for his part, had taken his second place with the greatest possible dignity in front of the cameras, but there was palpable frustration in his gestures.

The two drivers met on the way to the locker room, and although their teams tried to distance them, friction was inevitable. Max, noticing the expression on Lando's face, gave him a provocative smile.

“Nice try. “You know there’s only one champion, though,” Max said, in that arrogant tone you’d heard so many times and that inflamed his rivals so much.

Lando stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes flashing with contained fury. He couldn’t stand the brazenness with which Max was trying to provoke him after all the fighting on the track. The teams around them began to notice something was brewing, and some came closer in an attempt to intervene before things got out of hand.

“Yeah, Max, congratulations,” Lando replied, his voice controlled but full of sarcasm. “Some only care about glory and winning at all costs, even if they don’t have anyone to celebrate with them, right?”

Lando’s words made Max’s smile freeze for a moment. You knew how direct Lando could be when something irritated him, and this time he had struck a chord. Max took a step forward, his expression changing from amused to defiant.

“Don’t talk to me about celebrations, Norris. I don’t need company to be the best. Some are just here because they want an excuse to impress, but they don’t have what it takes to do it.”

Lando narrowed his eyes, the tension in his body evident. His team tried to place a hand on his shoulder to stop him, but he pushed it away without looking.

“Next year I’m going to fight you to the end, and I won’t need your cocky attitude to prove it.”

The words fell like a challenge, and at that moment, Max took a step towards Lando, her face just a few inches from his. Their gazes met, two pairs of eyes filled with pride and ambition that weren’t willing to budge.

“Whenever you want to try, Norris. But in the meantime, enjoy being second,” Max whispered in an icy tone, still staring at him.

The tension was palpable, and right then, it seemed like the situation was going to escalate even further. However, members of both teams quickly intervened, pulling them aside before either of them took another step. They were led in opposite directions, though both continued to glare at each other defiantly, not giving in one bit of their pride.

Meanwhile, you had witnessed the entire scene from a distance, watching as the rivalry that had begun on the track continued in every gesture and word.

After that little argument, as the hubbub filled the place, the idea of the party seemed increasingly distant for Lando. As soon as they returned to the hotel, you noticed that his silence became dense, almost sharp, as he avoided your gaze and his steps were heavy. You, trying to be understanding and wanting to ease the tension, tried to speak to him softly as the two of you went up in the elevator to his suite.

When you got to the room, Lando dropped his bag in the corner and collapsed onto the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. You kept your eyes on him, knowing something was wrong. His gaze, lost somewhere on the floor, finally met yours, and his eyes reflected a mix of disappointment and something else that was harder to decipher.

“I’m not going to that party. I have nothing to celebrate today,” he said at last, his tone low and dry.

“Lando, you did amazing today. It was a hell of a race. Everyone knows you gave it your all,” you told him, trying to comfort him.

But your words didn’t seem to calm him down. On the contrary, he frowned and shook his head, frustrated. “And for what? I finished second, behind him again,” he muttered, full of resentment. You knew that “he” was none other than Max, and in that moment, you understood that their rivalry was affecting him much more than it seemed.

You tried to move closer to sit next to him, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder, but Lando pulled away, standing up and walking a few steps away. He looked nervous, and something inside you told you that this wasn’t just frustration from the race. There was something else, something that seemed to be building up between you for a while now.

“Lando, I know today was tough, but there are more opportunities. You’re an amazing driver, and second place is something you should be proud of…” you began to say, searching his eyes.

But he didn’t seem to want to listen. “Proud? Are you serious?” he interrupted you, his voice rising slightly. “Why are you telling me this as if you care so much? Sometimes it seems like you’re not here for me, but for… someone else.” His gaze was accusatory, and his words began to make your heart beat faster, in a mix of discomfort and a little fear.

“What are you implying?” you asked, not wanting to believe what you were hearing.

“I think you know exactly what I'm talking about,” he replied, crossing his arms and staring at you. “Every time he's around… every time Max shows up, it's like you tune out everything else. Even today, I saw you staring at him from the paddock. Why? What happens to you when he's around?”

His gaze was hard, full of reproach, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you realized that you couldn't hide anything from him. You hadn't been entirely fair to him, you knew that. But you also didn't want him to throw feelings in your face that you hadn't even been able to fully understand.

“Lando, you're overreacting,” you said, trying to sound calm even though your voice was shaking. “I have been here with you, always supporting you. I came to Qatar to be with you in this race, to show you that I am on your side.”

“Really?” he replied, with a sarcastic laugh you had never heard from him before. “Because it doesn’t seem like you’re here just for me, to be honest. It seems like you stayed because you had something unfinished with Max, or am I wrong?”

His words hurt you, more than you wanted to admit. The tension between you had grown in the last while, and now it seemed like that bubble was finally bursting, revealing truths that you both tried to avoid.

“What do you want me to say? I can’t ignore that Max is here, I can’t pretend that he doesn’t exist, and you can’t demand that of me either,” you said, trying to keep your voice controlled. But Lando was too hurt to listen.

“I can’t go on like this. I need someone who is here for me, completely. I don’t want to be questioning whether my victories, my defeats, or even my own feelings, are being compared to someone else’s. If that’s what you feel, you better leave,” he said finally, pointing to the door.

The intensity of his words paralyzed you. He wanted you to leave. His eyes were filled with pain, and even though deep down you knew it hurt you too, you felt a deep injustice in how he was blaming you. But, after all, something in his pain was understandable.

Without answering, you took a deep breath, and turned around, moving towards the door. You felt the weight of each step, the rage contained in your chest, and also the pain of knowing that you had hurt someone you really cared about.

As you left Lando's room, a mix of frustration and pain accompanied you to the exit of the hotel. The argument still hovered in your mind, his words still echoing in every corner of your thoughts. You walked aimlessly, absorbed, until you finally took a taxi to your own hotel. You arrived, exhausted, but unable to relax. You dropped your bag on the floor and sat on the bed, staring out the window as the city vibrated with the night lights.

Almost instantly, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was a text from Max, asking if you were going to the party, as if everything between you was okay. His texts seemed harmless, but the situation with Lando was still too fresh and you weren't in the mood to deal with anyone else right now.

"I'm not in the mood, Max. I don't want to be disturbed tonight," you texted, trying to stay distant.

This time, Max didn't respond right away. You stared at the phone screen for a moment, waiting for a prodding that, for some reason, seemed inevitable. But there were no more messages. His silence was a kind of relief that allowed you to lie back on the bed, close your eyes, and try to relax.

Hours passed in a state of light sleep, with thoughts going back and forth between Lando and Max, between your feelings of guilt and what had just happened.

At 3 a.m., the phone vibrated again, and Max's name lit up the screen. You were surprised, and a mix of emotions washed over you when you saw the message.

Max: “Are you still awake? I want to go see you.”

You took a deep breath, and a part of you resisted answering. You didn’t want to see him; you felt like things were too tense and confusing, and the last thing you needed was to add to the complications. But, almost without being able to help yourself, you answered.

“No, Max. I don’t want to see you. It’s not the time,” you wrote firmly, hoping he would understand.

However, as always, Max insisted. The next message came quickly, almost as if he had already written it before you responded.

Max: “You know I want to see you, and I know you want that too. Come on, you have nothing to lose.”

You let out a sigh and, in the end, you let go of the resistance. Maybe the exhaustion of the whole situation was taking its toll on you, or maybe, deep down, you wanted his company. Without thinking too much, you sent him your location.

The message went through and, almost instantly, a sort of anticipation began to build in your chest. You knew that with Max, things were never simple, and that agreeing to see him right now, alone, at 3 a.m., would only add more complexity. But at that moment, logic seemed like a weak obstacle.

When Max arrived, the atmosphere was charged with a tension that you both understood all too well, but that neither seemed willing to fully cross. You shared a few intense kisses, with that contained urgency that had floated between you for so long. But every time Max tried to take things a little further, you stopped him. It wasn't the time; you still felt a mix of anger and confusion about what had happened with Lando. Despite his obvious frustration, Max respected your boundaries, settling for holding you while you fell asleep in his arms, feeling an unexpected comfort in his closeness.

The next morning, the light coming through the window gently woke you up. You opened your eyes and looked around, finding Max still asleep next to you. For a moment, calm seemed to fill you, as if the outside world didn't exist, as if everything was simpler than it really was. With a sigh, you reached for your phone to check the time, only to be met with a series of notifications that almost made you drop it.

There were dozens of messages and photos that your acquaintances had sent you. You opened the notifications one after another, and your shock and anger increased with each one. The images showed Lando with an unknown woman in his hotel, in a scene that left no room for interpretation. There were even several messages from him, written in a hurry and with a sense of panic that made your blood boil.

The impulse of frustration was so strong that, without thinking, you threw the glass on the nightstand against the wall, jolting Max awake. The sound of breaking glass echoed in the room, and he sat up quickly, looking at you in surprise and then with a sly smile.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes as he looked at the broken glass.

Without saying anything, you handed him your phone, showing him the photos and messages from Lando. Max stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, and then let out a dry, carefree laugh, as if it all seemed ridiculously convenient.

“Perfect,” he said, his expression a mix of amusement and satisfaction. “Now we can both get out of here without any problems. You see, I was doing you a favor.”

The indifference in his voice made you furious. You pushed the phone away and looked at him with a cold expression.

“No, Max. This isn’t a favor, and I’m not going to take advantage of it. This could ruin us both, and I don’t want to be a part of that story.”

He raised an eyebrow, still with that spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Really? Because, frankly, it doesn’t seem like Lando is doing anything very different from you, am I wrong?” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Why are you so angry? He just did you a favor… He freed you from continuing to pretend that things were fine between you.”

You looked at him, feeling like every word was a blow. He was right, at least in part. It hurt you to admit it, but the difference lay in the feelings. Despite the tension between you and Max, the connection you had felt was something real and deep, something that, for some reason, felt authentic.

“It’s not the same, Max,” you said quietly. “Cause with you… with you, things are different. The difference is that I do like you, and he… he went and got himself someone.”

Max fell silent, his smile fading as he watched you. For the first time, he seemed to have understood the seriousness of what you felt, and his expression softened.

“So why are you still here?” he asked quietly, no trace of mockery. “Why stay with him if you know it’s not the same? Why stay with someone who doesn’t give you what you need?”

You fell silent, fighting your own thoughts. You knew there was truth in what Max said, but it all seemed too complicated. You were caught between what you felt and what you believed was right, in a situation where neither path seemed easy.

Without saying anything else, Max approached and took your hand, looking at you with a seriousness he rarely showed.

“I’m not going to pressure you,” he said softly, “but I want you to know that I’m here, if you decide that this,” he pointed to the space between you. “Is something worthwhile. It’s up to you.”

The intensity in his gaze made you feel a mix of emotions. You knew you had to make a decision, but at that moment, the only thing that was clear was that things would never be the same again.

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justmymindandstuff · 9 hours ago

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color of the wolf - Cregan Stark x WifeReader

summary: It's the Harvest Festival in Winterfell. And Cregan is looking forward to an evening with his wife by his side. But your attention is constantly needed elsewhere. At some point he's had enough and takes matters into his own hands.

words: 2.259

warnings: jealous and possessiv Cregan, mention of sex (briefly)

a/n: I'm a sucker for jealous Cregan // English is not my first language// No use of Y/N// AO3 //Hope you like it🧡

requests are open// main- masterlist // hotd-masterlist

Winterfell is buzzing with activity. The final preparations for today are made. Cregan's steps lead him through his castle. The people step out of his way and respectfully lower their heads for their Lord. Cregan has finished his tasks for this afternoon and can now fully concentrate on the feast.

Today, the Harvest Festival will be celebrate down in the Winter Town. The harvest for the upcoming winter had been good. Today they would give their gratitude to the gods. He is looking forward to this . A relaxed evening with his wife and his people. You would dance, laugh and be happy together.

It is Cregan's duty as Lord of Winterfell to light the great fire. Actually, he wanted to make his way to the village already, but you weren't in your chambers. So he set out in search of his wife. Unfortunately he is unsuccessful.

His half-sister Sara comes towards him. Normally, she is your constant companion.

"Sister. Have you seen my lady wife?" he asks. Sara looks up at him confused.

"She is already in Town. She wanted to go to the orphanage and bring the children to the feast. She didn't tell you?"

Cregan's eyebrows knit together, he hopes that you at least took one of your guards with you. "No."

You threw yourself into the preparations for the feast and the hospitality of your guests, and probably just forgot to let him know that you were already on your way.

"Come on, let's go down. It's time for the Harvest Festival."

Cregan nods to Sara and offers her his arm. Together, the siblings make their way down to Winter Town. Most of the villagers have already gathered. Hot spiced wine, fresh meat, fruit, and sweets are being distributed. Music is played.

"My Lord." someone hands him a cup of wine, and he passes it to Sara before asking for a second one. Lord Karstark approaches the two of them. Sara frees her arm from his and disappears among the people to avoid a conversation with the old Lord. Unfortunately, Cregan does not have this freedom.

Cregan's gaze searches over the people. The warm spiced wine warms from within. Lord Karstark begins to speak. "The harvest was good and the Citadel predicts a mild winter."

Cregan knows very well that the Citadel is not always right. Winter is unpredictable. The only thing that is certain is that winter is coming.

But today is not the day to worry about winter. Today is a day for celebration.

"We can consider ourselves lucky," he replied. Karstark continues speaking. But then laughter pierces the air. Cregan is immediately distracted. Among thousands of laughs, he would recognize your laugh. He turns his head and sees you. You are currently leading a group of children to the festival grounds. Everyone has a joyful smile on their face. You hold one of the little ones by the hand while another child sits on your hip.

Cregan can't take his eyes off you. He is the happiest man in the world because you are his. At the sight of you, his heart opens up, and he can hardly wait until you carry your own child on your hip. But something seems odd to him. He can't put his finger on it, but a slight burning sensation is forming in his stomach.

He watches you as your gaze sweeps across the people, and when you meet his eyes, a radiant smile appears on your lips. Automatically, his feet move in your direction. He is drawn to you like a moth to a flame. But he only takes a few steps before he gets stopped again.

"My Lord Stark, it is time," the Maester snaps him out of his thoughts Cregan looks at him and nods. Tries to hide his annoyance that he can't get to you. He wants you by his side. Cregan is handed a torch and he ignites the neatly arranged wood. Immediately, the flames shoot up into the air.

The villagers clap, the children laugh.

Cregan straightens his shoulders and begins to speak in a loud voice. "The gods are good. The harvest was more successful than it has been in years. Today we celebrate and thank the gods."

The attendees clap and cheer.

"Let us raise our cups and let the wine flow." he raises his cup and everyone else follows his example.

Cregan takes a step back. He has never been a man of many words. He has always found this attention uncomfortable. The flames warm from the outside while the spiced wine warms from the inside. The music starts up again, and the people of Winterfell fall into a joyful bustle of conversation and dance. Cregan starts moving again to come to you. Everything pulls him towards you.

The flames give your skin a warm glow. Your hair is braided back in a typical northern style. You are wearing an elaborate dress. The hem is embroidered with red weirwood leaves that wander over your skirt and end in your corset in the seal of your father's house. You are so beautiful that he can hardly believe you belong to him.

And now Cregan also realizes what had been bothering him. You are wearing the wrong color. Instead of wearing the usual dark gray/white, you are wearing the color of your family's house. At this realization, Cregan notices his jaw tightening slightly. You are already approaching him, but then you are called by a Silentsister, the head of the orphanage.

"Lady Stark. Do you have a moment?" she asks. You smile apologetically at Cregan and then turn to the older woman.

Cregan suppresses a sigh. He knows that the children and the orphanage in the village are important to you. Every winter, children lose their parents to the winter, and even though Cregan does everything in his power to prevent it, he cannot defeat the winter.

Since you came to Winterfell you have made it your mission to take care of the orphans. So he lets you go.

His plan to wait until you finish your conversation doesn't work out, because of course both his Lords and his Subjects take the opportunity to speak with him more casually than during the petitions.

He is being pulled from conversation to conversation. He tries to meet everyone with kindness and listen to their concerns. Or just to talk about unimportant things.

Only when you clap your hands to get everyone's attention does Cregan notice that the sun has already set. You step forward and Cregan is once again overwhelmed by your beauty for a moment. He would never get used to how much love he has in his heart for you.

The celebration falls silent and all attention is on you. "The children of the orphanage have prepared something for today. We hope you like it." you say, nodding encouragingly at the children. A small group of older children steps forward and start a play about the Children of the Forest.

Cregan is glad that the play frees him from a tiresome conversation with his stablemaster. He turns his gaze away from the children and looks at you. You stand there with a proud look and watch as the children happily perform their play. When it is over, everyone claps. The children bow and run back to you. Immediately, you are surrounded by the children. He hears how you praise them with a gentle voice.

As the children slowly start to disperse again, Cregan tries again to finally reach you. But once again, he is stopped. This time by Lady Cerwyn. Cregan would like to scream.

When he finally manages to detach himself from the talkative Lady without appearing rude, he vowes not to let himself be held back any longer from yoi .

He wants to talk to you for at least five minutes. To see your smile, hear your warm voice, and perhaps steal a few kisses from your soft lips.

Immediately, his gaze searches through the crowd. And when he finally sees you again, a hot jealousy immediately rise inside his veins.

You are currently dancing with Lord Rogar Bolton. A young lord who inherited Dreadfort only a few moons ago.

The sight of him leading you with practiced dance steps, his hand a little too low on your back for Cregans liking, drives him almost mad. And when you lean your head back and start to laugh joyfully Cregan sees red.

You and Lord Bolton look like a happy, loving couple. And the fact that you are wearing your father's colors makes it even worse. At that moment, nothing indicate that you are Lady Stark, that you are his wife.

"My Lord..." he hears the voice of the Maester beside him, but he can't engage in another pointless conversation right now. Without paying attention to the Maester, he sets off. His steps are heavy and he simply strides through the dancing people to reach you. When he finally reaches you, he simply grabs your waist and pulls you out of Lord Bolton's arms.

Startled by the interruption, you flinch, but as soon as you recognize him, your radiant smile reappears. "I'll take over from here. Thank you, Lord Bolton." he towers over the young man with his broad stature and he knows that his eyes are sparkling with anger. But he wants it like that. He wants to scare this man away. His grip on your waist tightens.

"My Lord," stammers Rogar and quickly turns away.

Cregan turns around and takes your hand while his other hand stays on your hip. He begins to move both of you to the music.

"There you are." you begin to smile happily. "I have the feeling I haven't seen you all day."

"Didn't look like it bothered you much." he can't help that his voice sounds annoyed. You furrow your eyebrows and look up at him.

"What?"

"You had a good chat with Bolton." Cregan grumbles. Your expression relaxes and you smile slightly again. You lift your hand and gently caress his cheek. Cregan closes his eyes for a moment and enjoys the touch.

"Are you jealous Love?" you ask, slightly amused. Cregan lets out a snort.

"Of course not," he lies. But the burning feeling inside him still hasn't completely disappeared. You raise an eyebrow and he concedes. "Maybe a little," he murmurs. "Why are you wearing this dress?"

For a brief moment sadness glimmers in your eyes, and at the sight, Cregan's heart tightens.

"You don´t like my dress?" you suddenly ask uncertainly.

"If I'm being honest, no. It has the wrong color wife."

Relief is reflected on your face. You wear your emotions on your face, and Cregan is glad about it.

"It's the color of my house," you say again now with a smile on your lips.

Cregan shakes his head slightly and pulls you closer to him by your hips. You place your hand on his broad chest. "The colors of your house are gray and white. You are Lady Stark. My wife." his voice is deep and he notices how you shiver in his arms. Your cheeks turn slightly red as you shyly lower your eyes. The jealousy slowly begins to fade and is replaced with something else.

"I am still your wife even when I don't wear your colors," you say then.

"Right, but then no one can see it."

You giggle softly and then look him in the eyes again. "Then we'll just have to show them differently."

You lean up, and in the next moment, your lips crash onto his and your hand buries itself in his dark hair. Cregan is surprised for a second by the intensity of your kiss. His heart begins to race. He pulls you a little closer to him as his tongue glides into your mouth. You moan softly against his lips, and Cregan would love to drag you back to the keep right away. You move your lips against his. Fits perfectly in his arms. Warmth floods through Cregan as he conquers your mouth.

You break apart breathlessly and Cregan sees over your shoulder how Lord Bolton turns away with an annoyed look. Triumph rises within him, and he cannot prevent a slight smile. You are his. Completely and utterly, and everyone should see that.

"Was that proof enough that I only love you?" you ask with a smile.

"I have never doubted your love. I just want everyone else to know that too."

You roll your eyes in laughter and intertwine your fingers with his. "Everyone knows it, Love. Believe me." you give him a quick kiss on the lips. Cregan's lips curl into a smile as he looks at his beautiful, loving wife.

"Lord Stark" someone calls out and Cregan grumbles in annoyance. He had indeed gotten five minutes with you, but of course that's not enough.

You give him a reproachful look before turning to the voice with a smile and pulling him along with you. The rest of the evening you don't leave his side for a second. Your hands are intertwined or he has his hand around your waist. Again and again, he steals a kiss from your lips or enjoys the feeling of your hand on his arm as you gently caress him.

That night, he makes sure you never wear the wrong color again as he tears your dress from your body before you unite in a passionate embrace between the sheets and furs of his bed

#house of the dragon #hotd #cregan stark fic #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #hotd fic #cregan stark fanfiction #cregan stark x you #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark fanfic #cregan fanfiction #house stark

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redvexillum · 1 day ago

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I wasn��t planning on posting any stories this month since I’m still on a bit of a break, but with everything going on in America right now, I just felt the need to reach out. I know there’s nothing I can do to change things, and this may seem small and silly, but writing is what I know how to do. And if even one story can bring a smile or a bit of comfort to my friends, then I want to share it with you. Please hang in there. You’re not alone.

PART 01. CATASTOR AND HIS NEW DO

The mirror reflected back a tired version of you, someone with hair that seemed almost weary itself—dull, brittle, lifeless. It felt as if it siphoned off the vibrance around it, capturing any glimmer of light and snuffing it out. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes in concentration, pondering whether today might finally be the day to give it a fresh look, a touch of sparkle.

“Nyaahh,” came the unmistakable squeak from behind you. There was Catastor, your mischievous little companion, perched primly on the dresser. From his place in the reflection, his big, round eyes stared outward in comical opposite directions, his pink tongue lolling out as he mimicked your tilted head with an exaggerated, inquisitive look.

“Baby!” you called, your heart swelling with warmth as you spun around, arms open wide. The sound of your voice was enough to make his tail wag wildly, his body nearly vibrating with excitement. Without hesitation, he launched himself at you, his small, warm body landing like a soft, cozy blanket against your chest, his form molding against you with the comfort of melted cheese.

A purr reverberated through him as he nestled closer, pressing his face into your neck, his ears flattened in absolute contentment while his tail swayed in erratic, delighted rhythms. You ran a hand absentmindedly over his back, savoring the soft fur beneath your fingertips. His warmth seeped into you, a soothing weight that melted the day’s tension as his purring grew, a low, comforting rumble.

“I’m thinking of getting my hair done,” you mused, fingers trailing through his soft coat. His purrs only deepened, and the faint tug of relaxation settled over you like a spell, easing every muscle into stillness.

Catastor blinked up at you, each eye fluttering in its own haphazard rhythm. You chuckled at his antics, reaching down to tap his little nose. “What do you think? Should I cut my hair?” You knew he couldn’t actually answer, but you enjoyed these small conversations; there was a special solace in talking to him, as if he understood more than he let on.

In response, he stretched his neck, bringing his face to yours, then gave the tip of your nose a tiny lick before plopping his head over your shoulder, nuzzling into the crook between your neck and shoulder. A small laugh bubbled up as his soft fur brushed against your cheek, the feel of his familiar warmth filling you with a calm contentment.

After a moment, you lowered yourself onto the bed, trying to peel him off of you, but Catastor flopped onto the mattress with an exaggerated stretch, limbs splayed like a second blanket, his belly exposed and tail twitching in lazy arcs.

“Well, I’ll be getting my hair done today, so I’ll need you to watch the house while I’m gone,” you murmured, giving his soft belly a gentle scratch. His eyes drifted shut, head lolling back as a new wave of purrs filled the room, his front paw giving a contented twitch.

“I’ll even bring a treat back from Cannibal Town,” you promised, your heart melting as his purrs softened, his form going limp, edging on sleep. Catastor always struggled with separation, and more than once you’d found him nestled secretly in your hair after shrinking himself down to follow you. So, you’d learned to wait until he was fully asleep before attempting a quiet exit.

As his breathing deepened, his little paws twitching as if in a dream, you held back a giggle and rose carefully. Holding your breath, you tiptoed to the door, gently closing it behind you. Outside, you finally released a long sigh, the crisp air filling your lungs. You loved his protective nature, but he’d once torn apart a whole street after a gang had tried to hassle you. As grateful as you were for his fierce loyalty, his fervor sometimes led to more trouble than you bargained for.

Keys and wallet in hand, you glanced back toward your room, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “Sweet dreams, baby,” you whispered softly. “I’ll be back soon.”

At the salon, you were greeted by Mel, the ever-charming Poodle Sinner who had a reputation for her wickedly red lipstick and long, flirtatious lashes, popping her gum with every word. She tossed her towel over one shoulder with practiced ease, flashing you a wide grin.

“Darling!” she greeted, smirking as she chewed her gum. “’Bout time you came back, hah!” With a wink, she gestured toward the chair, deftly laying out her trays of potions and lotions, each bottle filled with promises of shine, volume, and glamour.

“What’re we doing today, hun?” she asked, fingers weaving through your hair as she examined it with a critical eye. “My, you’ve let her grow!” She gave an exaggerated cluck of her tongue when she caught on a knot, making you wince. “Now, don’t you worry, we’re gonna make you shine like a star again.”

As you settled in, you couldn’t help but imagine Catastor napping peacefully at home, dreaming of treats and waiting loyally for your return.

You laughed nervously, watching Mel's smirk in the reflection as she raised a brow, eyes full of mischief. The cold mist from her spray bottle caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine as your shoulders jolted. Slowly, you settled back into the chair, letting yourself relax as she worked her fingers through your hair. “I was thinking…maybe some curls?” you mumbled, cheeks warming as a certain image flickered to mind—one of a tall, red-haired demon with that wily smile and fluffy ears.

“Oh my!” Mel snickered knowingly, brushing through your hair in slow, precise strokes. “There’s a new man in your life, isn’t there?”

Immediately, your cheeks flamed, and your gaze dropped to your hands, fingers twisting together as you stammered, “N-no! Nothing like that, really…he’s just, uh…just my boss.” But your heart betrayed you, racing faster with every word. The thought of admitting any hint of interest, even to your friend, left you shy and tongue-tied.

“Say no more, sweetheart,” Mel trilled in a sing-song voice, dismissing your excuses with a wink. “I’ll make you look like a knockout!”

A tiny squeak escaped you, your face now red as a tomato. “It’s not—it’s really nothing like that!” You tried to argue, though the grin tugging at Mel’s lips made it clear she didn’t buy a word of it. Before you could protest further, she gave your head a light pat, her smile bright and warm. You couldn’t help but smile back, the joy in her laughter lifting you from your shyness.

As Mel worked, the usual salon gossip filled the air, talk of the latest mischief and drama from the East Side of Pentagram. She’d been one of your first friends in this strange place—a friendly face in the chaos of Hell. You remembered that first day, scared and alone, stumbling into her salon. Now, as you sat there, chatting and laughing with her, you felt a happiness and warmth that chased away any lingering loneliness.

The smell of her berry-scented products wrapped around you as she applied them, each brushstroke feeling like a balm. And despite yourself, your thoughts drifted back to your boss—the Radio Demon. Would he be surprised to see you tomorrow, all dolled up with new curls? Maybe he’d even…like it?

Your hands pressed together, a hopeful smile spreading across your face as you imagined the look on his. You could practically see his eyebrow raise, his grin widening in that sly, amused way.

After what felt like hours, a sharp gasp broke your reverie. Mel had jumped back, a look of shock on her face. “Oh, honey, there was a…pest in your hair!” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

Confused, you frowned, tilting your head. A pest? Before you could ask, a loud, indignant yowl rang out from behind you, and you felt something shift in your hair. In a flash of pink, something furry tumbled forward, landing on the floor in a poof of exaggerated volume.

Your mouth dropped open as you stared down. There, standing in a mound of fluffy, pink fur—puffed out so large he looked like a living cotton candy puff—was Catastor. His fur had poofed to double its usual size, the familiar outward-pointing eyes and red monocle nearly swallowed up by the mass of fluff. His wide grin only made the sight more ridiculous.

“Catastor!” you gasped, dropping to your knees as he waddled toward you, his puffy paws kneading at your knee in that familiar, pleading gesture for comfort.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, scooping him up and pressing him close. His fur was so soft and squishy it felt like sinking into a plush cloud, your arms disappearing into the sheer volume of fluff. He burrowed his head against you, the tremble in his yowl finally quieting as you gently stroked his back.

“Oh, my, Satan,” Mel laughed, eyes twinkling. “You’re holding a walking ball of cotton candy!”

You looked down at Catastor, his little face half-buried in his own fur, his yowl softening to little meows. The sight of him, so utterly ridiculous and adorable, sent a wave of giggles through you. “Looks like we both got a spa day today,” you teased, scratching under his chin. His eyes drooped, his purrs growing content and low.

“I know just the thing!” Mel said with a playful wink, disappearing behind the counter. She returned with matching ribbons, one for each of you. Gently, she tied a little bow around the small, perfect curl atop Catastor’s head, then expertly fastened the other bow in your newly styled curls.

Turning back to the mirror, you burst into another fit of delighted giggles. Your hair looked amazing, vibrant and full, bouncing with every movement, and in your arms was Catastor, fluffy and bow-adorned to match.

You cradled him close, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, a happiness that lifted you. Tomorrow, you would see your boss…Alastor, with your new look, confident and refreshed. And maybe…just maybe…he’d notice.

But for now, you were content to just sit here with Catastor, your matching bows and poofy styles reflecting the joyful, silly energy you felt bubbling over.

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kill4luvina · 9 hours ago

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✧ Never Again ✧

"I got a feeling one of these days You'll be the reason I stay Way you whine, girl, you make me insane"

PossisiveBf!TojixBlack!Reader

CW - Modern, Overly Possisive Toji, OOC, Toji Smoking, Unprotected Sex, Public Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie. Probbably more but I’m lazy and not proofread. (I havent posted in so long give me a break.)

Summary: You and your boyfriend of 3 years go out on a date to celebrate when you run into a old friend who obviously can’t read the room. In a hurry to finish the short reunion your boyfriend leaves angrily waiting for you outside the car to ready to take his frustration out on you.

“Tojii, this place is so wonderfu!” You’d gasp holding onto his arm in awe, as you both entered the dimly lit restaurant. Your eyes glued to the white plaster sculpture of a winged figure riding a horse above you two. Your boyfriend woud smile knowing you loved sculptures and this would be the perfect place to spend you 3rd anniversary.

After being seated , about 30 minutes later you were caught off guard by a figure behind you. You quickly turn to see a bright smile. Gojo, one of your old friends from High school who seemed to have not aged a day over 20. Though you knew he was around 25, you smile back greeting him with a wave. “How are you?” He asked.

You glanced over to your boyfriend who looked unbothered before bringing your full attention back to Gojo. “Oh I’m doing wonderful, You?” You smiled happy to see him, the last time you two spoke waas at the end of after a trip with your high school friend group. You two soon lost track of time talking for almost 15 minutes!

You notice Gojo give a strange look before looking around in confusion. You turn to see Toji’s gone, your heart dropping. “I-” you couldnt form words wondering how long he had been gone for, if he left you or what. You struggle to make a sentence before gojo smiles a nods. “Go on, it’s my fault i interrupted.”

You’d smile, “It was nice seeing you!” you’d say quickly getting up and speed walking to the entrance of the restaurant. Your silver glittery heels slightly slowing you down, which made you quickly take them off as soon as you got outside panicking as you jogged to where he had parked. “Toji?!” You’d call out startled when you didnt see his car for a moment.

“Right here mamas.” He’d answer from a little farther down making you sigh quickly, seeing the smoke from his blund rising into the dark night. You’d slowly walk to the direction of his voice until you saw him standing against his blacked out Lamborghini Aventador. “Toji, I’m sorry I got so caught up in the conversation..” You’d say looking at the ground.

He’d huff ignoring your apology just hitting the blunt, his eyes not even moving in your direction. He’d stand there silently listening to pleas, as you kept apolging, tears filling your eyes as you started to sniffle. Your voice cracking as you came closer to him pulling on his suit begging him to even look at you.

“Y/n.” Your heart would completely sink, he only ever called you by your name when you really fucked up. You’d look up at him, and he was now looking down at you. His eyes cold and low as he blew some smoke into your face. The Earthy scent mixed with his La Nuit De L'homme Yves Saint Laurent colonne making you weak.

“Y-yes?” You’d answer, eyes watering even more scared at what he might say this time. “Mamas, what’d I’d tell you about guys talking to you?” He’d tilt his head, his eyes softening up as he noticed your tears starting to roll down your face. “N-not to pay them any mind, and I’m sorry he was an old friend!” You’d try to explain only to be shut up with a kiss.

“I’ll let you get away with this one because it’s our anniversary. But you owe me one thing..”

You don’t know what possessed you to let this happen but you found yourself getting fucked agasint this mans car. Lamborghini to be specific, out in a public parking lot.

“T-Tojii-” You’d whine feeling him drill in and out of your squelching pussy, tightening around him as you heard footsteps nearing. “Shh, they’re gonna hear..” He’d chuckle knowing they were going to see anyway. “F-fuckk. too deep-!” you’d cry as you felt him bury himself as deep as possible. His smirk grew as he watched a couple gasp seeing this.

You’d let out a loud moan feeling him slap your ass, your dress pulled up to your waist and laced panties in his right hand. “Your being too loud..” He’d whissper in your ear still fucking your now creamy pussy. “How about..” Failing to fight back you found your panties now shoved in your mouth to shut you up, your eyes tearing up in embarrassment as you saw another man walk past.

Unfortunately for you, it was someone you knew. The person who started all of this, you felt your tears start to pour as you couldn’t stop moaning from the pleasure but the embarrassment was too much. “Y/n?” He’d titled his head to the side in shock, feeling himself get hard before quickly walking off trying to pretend he never saw.

“Toji!” You’d scream muffled by the fabric in your mouth, you quickly spit it out turning back to look at him. He’d without hesitation push your head against the car window, “who’s a good slut?’ He’d ask fucking you even faster as you felt yourself reaching the edge. Your eyes rolling back as he brought one of your legs up to fuck you deeper.

“Omg! Fuckkk!” You’d cry cumming all over his dick, feeling him thrust into you a few more times before letting his load out in you. “Look at you, a little cum dump.” He’d snicker as he pulled out, giving your ass a little slap before picking your heels & purse from the floor. You’d feel yourself get picked up and gently placed in the car.

“Never do that shit again.” He’d say coldly before givng you a kiss on your forehead and coming around the to the drivers seat. You’d sit there silently just rethinking your life as you felt yourself drip your boyfriends cum onto his expensive seats.

Little did the both of know of a few cars down sat gojo in his own car, windows rolled down half way, cum all over his stomach & chest. Breathing heavily with the feeling of embarrassment overwhelming him. He had sat there listening to you, just to get off to his fist? He didn’t feel okay after that one yet he loved every moment of it while it was happening.

yall should i make a part 2 with gojo telling u to leave ur bf :)

"Bad man looking good in Dior Bad man drip to the core Sport car's parked on the right spot Bad man sleek and you know"

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planetpedri · 2 days ago

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idk if you’re hispanic/latino buttttt i NEED a pedri fic based off the song la santa by bad bunny (if you don’t know spanish you can just translate it and it’ll work jst fine) tyyyy i loveee ur work 🫶🫶

La santa — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to fall in love with Pedri, but it happened nonetheless. You knew what you were getting into when it all started and you both knew despite nothing ever going further than casual, you would always come running back.

Word count: 710

Disclaimer/s: Slightly Suggestive (?) , angst

A/N: OOOOH this song is lowk girl i’m nodding my head thank yew. i also really had no clue how to go about this .. i actually hate it so much sorry this was so bummy

Pedri was dressing quickly. Too quickly. You knew you shouldn’t have even proposed the idea of taking the relationship or… whatever you could call it, further. He always got jumpy when you’d ask for him to stay even a few extra minutes.

You leaned back against the headboard, a frown planted tightly against your lips as you watched him zip up his jeans. “Jesus christ, Pedri. It was a simple suggestion! You’re acting like I told you I was pregnant.”

The mans eyes widen as they shoot in your direction, “you aren’t.. pregnant. Right?” That elicited a loud groan from your lips.

“Oh lord.” You rub your temples before looking back to him. He still wore the same expression, nearly making you laugh as you shake your head. “No! I am not.”

“Thank God.” He huffs, reaching for his t-shirt.

You chew on your bottom lip, suddenly annoyed. “You know what? This has to stop. For good.” He continued dressing like you weren’t even speaking, so you add, “I’m serious.”

Pedri sighs, tugging the shirt over his head. “You said that last week, last month, and matter of fact, two days ago. You know damn well it’s not stopping.” His lip twitches at the corners, a smug grin forming ever so slowly.

That just furthered your annoyance because, unfortunately, it was the truth. It also pissed you off because if he’d just take you seriously and stayed away, you wouldn’t crawl back to him every time.

You’d tried to stop sending him that text or responding to his, but you were weak. Your resistance only lasted about five minutes before you caved. You simply couldn’t stay away from Pedri.

“It’s different this time, and you know it! I can’t wait around for you to feel—“

“Woah!” His hands shoot up, stopping you mid sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Your lips clamp shut and your arms cross over your chest. “Well—“

“Cariño, you know it’ll never be reciprocated. You knew this the second we started the whole thing! Cut the lovey dovey act, I don’t need you doing that because I don’t know how to reciprocate it.” He finishes his rant, running a hand over his face as if the whole conversation was one big inconvenience.

Pedri leaned against the wall a few feet from your bedroom door, antsy for an escape yet also not wanting to leave you pissed off at him.

“This was only meant to be a fun thing.” He adds once the silence became deafening.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you frown. “Why though? Why is it such a terrible concept? You care about a lot of things, a lot of people, why would it be so different?”

His eyes dart to the door, he really needed to get out of here. “You know why. Just.. let’s keep this going and you’ll get over it, no? Why are you trying to mess with something thats fine just as it is?”

You were desperately trying to ignore the way your stomach churned at his words. The more he talked, the more you felt your heart sink. You knew damn well there was no changing Pedri and you most definitely knew better than to even have a sliver of hope.

“You’re right.” You finally force out, “no, yeah. I’m sorry I even thought about it.”

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. Pedri heard it loud and clear and he almost felt guilty. Almost. But at the end of the day, he’d told you how he felt about relationships at the beginning of it all. He knew and you knew, exactly where he stood.

“I’ll see you when I get back from Sevilla, okay?” Pedri sighs, pushing himself off the wall.

Not daring to look at him, you stay quiet for a moment. A weak attempt at pushing him away, but you were just that. Weak.

“Yeah.” You huff, “make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

Pedri lifts one hand as a parting gesture, but you don’t return it and he leaves anyways. He leaves you feeling like an absolute idiot because you know when you get the text that he’s back in town, you’ll be waiting right where he left you.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, specific or all.

DTS , @halfwayhearted , @spidybaby , @gadriezmannsgirl !

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri x reader #pedri angst #football #blurb #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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sharpth1ng · 1 day ago

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Ive already posted this in my server, so you may see it twice, but In case you don't see it there im posting it here too.

Im assuming most of you have seen the news about the us election. Honestly im feeling nothing less than devastated, and i would assume Americans are feeling ten times worse. Im so fucking sorry to you all, and I know that doesn't help at all. I feel angry, hopeless, and sad as fuck, and i dont know how to comfort anyone or advocate for the hope i think we deserve.

What I can do is remind you all who you come from.

Women, queer people, disabled people, indigenous people, black people, new immigrants- anyone who experiences marginalization- we have been through this before. Many times. So many lives have been unjustly lost and our rights have been trampled on over and over, and we shouldnt have to be dealing with any of that still in 2024. It feels insane that im even having to write this post right now.

But even with that crushing history, repeating itself over and over, we haven't been silenced. If anything we've gotten louder. We've been having mainstream conversations about oppression and liberation in the past few years that were completely undiscussed when I was a kid. The vocal support for trans people alone, even with the rise of transphobia, is unprecedented.

None of this is meant to tell you that it's alright, or that it's not that bad, because it is that bad. But what I'm telling you is that its been this bad before, only this time we're louder than we ever have been before and we'll be louder still next time. There are more of us than there ever have been before, and if they couldn't take us all out when there were fewer of us they wont manage it this time.

There were drag shows happening in gay bars when it was still illegal to be gay at all. There were Natives preserving language and knowledge out of residential schools, and black people inventing whole new types of art and resistance while they were still being actively enslaved, and those are just a few examples. The point is that we dont stop, we never have. We will keep making art, finding love, and joy, being fucking loud and fighting for each other.

It's ok to hurt, to be angry and scared. Let yourself feel all of those things because its the only rational response to this.

But don't let it shut you down. Your history is one of resilience, survival, and compassion. We're so much more than the oppression we face and we always have been.

Reach out to the people you love and tell them you fucking love them. Make plans to see them. Gather with your community and organize to support each other, find ways to protect each other, and above all else don't stop looking for joy. Don't stop making art. Don't stop showing compassion.

Solidarity is the most important thing we have right now, so don't give up on it.

I don't know how to close this message really, but i want to repeat I'm not telling you to have hope, I'm not telling you it's not so bad. What I am telling you is that you're stronger than you think. You come from strength, you come from people who faced odd that seemed insurmountable so that you could be here today.

If they couldn't take us out before they wont succeed now. We're only going to get louder, angrier and stronger. And when the tide swings back in the other direction, like it always has in the past, they better be fucking grateful that most of us will be fighting for equality instead of revenge.

#keep fighting #i fucking believe in you #queer solidarity #anti racism #anti ableism #womens rights #trans rights #immigrant rights #decolonize palestine #decolonize turtle island #indigenous lives are sacred #black lives matter

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struwberrii · 2 days ago

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chapter 1 : the usual ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

masterlist

another day goes by, same old same old. you wake up, get ready for work, then head down to the bakery and get things ready for opening. there are some good parts about owning my a bakery though, like being able to look out your stores window and seeing your new friend, osamu miya. you watch as he wipes down tables at his place.

you must’ve been staring for too long because you’re suddenly snapped out of your trance when you see him look up and wave over in your direction, to which you return. before you know it, it’s already time to open.

the day goes by fairly quick, some of your employees come and go, you make some of your signature deserts and making small talk with some of your regulars. honestly, your job wasn’t bad, it had always been a dream of yours to be the owner of a cute little bakery in tokyo, and now you’re finally fulfilling those dreams, you couldn’t be happier, sometimes you just wish you could push opening back a little later, but then you wouldn’t be able to see all your favorite customers who come in for a morning coffee and biscuit or slice of cake before they head of to work.

before you know it, lunch time rolls around, for lunch you usually head out to grab food or go cook at your apartment down the block, but today you decided to go visit osamu. when you first opened up your bakery,“dreamy desserts”, osamu was the first business owner to come welcome you to the strip, he also dropped off some of his famous onigiri, ever since that first bite you found yourself sneaking off across the street to grab an onigiri or 2, sometimes even bringing a few back to the bakery for your workers.

‘ring ring’

that familiar sound of the bells on the onigiri miya doors rang as you pushed the door open.

“ahhh y/n! nice to see ya’ round’ again!” osamu exclaims throwing his arms up in celebration. there were a few people in the store, waiting for their food or just eating at the bars, but you decided to make your way over to the cash register osamu was handling.

“hi osamu! i haven’t seen you in forever, what’s it been like 2 days now” you joked lightly pushing his shoulder. he brushed it off with a smiled and run you up for your usual. as you’re taking your card out you hear the entrance bell ringing again, you think nothing of it until you hear loud conversation between 2 men. then you pause again when you look up and see osamus once lit up face dressed in a smile, now rocking a frown so low you were taken aback.

you turned around to see what all the commotion was, only to see a blonde osamu looking straight through your head at osamu with a sly smirk, and a taller, foxy eyed boy stood next to him, you accidentally locked eyes with him, and it looks could kill, you’d be reduced to a pile of ash by now.

you whipped your head back around embarrassing quick and finished up paying for your onigiri while the two customers made their way to the bar next to you.

“heeeyyyy samu, got anything new fer me and sunarin to try?” the blonde laughed while nudging his darker haired friend in the arm “yeah how bout’ you try getting out of my restaurant”. osamu snapped back, yet his tone still sounded lighthearted.

after you paid for your food you made your way to another corner of the store to wait for your food to be made. scrolling on your phone a bit only to be interrupted by your name being called. you looked up only to see osamu and the 2 guys he was talking to staring back at you

“y/n! you’ve never met my brother, have you?” osamu questioned. “i honestly didn’t even know you had a brother” you laughed in return. “oh… whups”. osamu laughed back “whaattt!!! samu you don’t tell yer friends you’ve got a handsome older brother!?” the blonde snapped back at osamu. “why would i lie to my friends bout' having a handsome older brother?” this little encounter led to a short argument between the two brothers.

“well anyhow;” the blonde said looking back over to you, “i’m atsumu, samus brother, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and who might you be gorgeous” he said holding a hand out, giving you a sly grin. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you too” you say hesitantly shaking his hand in return. "and this guy here behind me is suna, hes actin' all shy" atsumu laughed, his friend looked up from his phone only to give atsumu a distasteful look before looking over to you. "suna, nice to meet you" he says nodding his head at you. such a short interaction and you already felt butterflies in your stomach.

he was so tall and toned, and his voice was so deep, you could have sworn you felt it in your chest. while you were fawning over him in your head you didn't even realize he had turned back to his phone, not even taking a second to wait for you to introduce yourself. oh god, he probably thinks your'e so rude now, just staring him down instead of properly introducing yourself. your'e definitely going to beat yourself up over this later.

"sorry for the wait y/n, heres yer food" osamu hands a paper bag to you over the counter. "wow, yer actually handing her the bag instead of smacking her on the side of the head with it, must be nice" atsumu says frowning at his twin. "maybe im nice to her cause' she isn't a pain in my ass" osamu snaps back. "tch, whatever" atsumu crosses his arms as a response. "see ya 'round y/n!" osamu waves as you make your way out "bye y/n" atsumu says after his brother, to which you wave in response.

on your way back to the bakery all you can think about is your interaction with suna. you thought about texing osamu about him, but decided on waiting until after the lunch rush died down in his store, and of course until after suna left, just incase osamu said something about it to him.

geez, this whole interaction has fully thrown you off your game, all you can think about it what youre going to text osamu tonight.

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rustychainsnorter · 3 days ago

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One thing I wanted to see more than anything was a moment between Morty and Rick Prime. I didn't care how it went, I just wanted them to cross paths, communicate or fight in some way. I just wanted to see how they would react to each other.

In season 7, episode 5, we got presented with what we thought was finally a Morty and Rick Prime moment, but it turned out to be Evil Morty instead. So it seemed like there was literally no moments between Rick Prime and Morty, right?

WRONG.

It might have been indirect, but both Morty and Rick Prime did react to each other. And you know what? I think Morty's reaction was more lethal.

Remember this?

At the start of Unmortricken, Evil Morty helps them to catch what they all believe is the real Rick Prime. While Rick hesitates and argues with Evil Morty, Rick Prime clears his throat and offers his "two cents" in the background.

I don't know if anyone realized it, but Morty instantly yelled "no" and pushed the button that immediately shot Rick Prime in the head.

Morty did not hesitate to take the opportunity to kill his biological grandpa. In the moment, he was desperate to get rid of him. He almost even seemed angry when he reacted to Rick Prime, and he was more than determined to kill him. There was no hesitation. He didn't care. What Morty thought was the real Rick Prime opened his mouth, and he decided to silence it.

And then we have Rick Prime's reaction to Morty

Unlike Morty, Rick Prime does not immediately go in for the kill. Instead, he awkwardly addresses the situation in an almost polite manner before pulling his gun out and asking (he asked) Morty "Should I just get this over with, or...?"

OR WHAT?!

And then Evil Morty revealed himself and shot him. I also thought it was crazy how Rick Prime cried "grandson" while being electrocuted.

To me, I think Rick Prime would have been open for conversation with Morty had Morty actually tried to communicate with him. His overconfidence probably made him feel safe enough to hold out a conversation with Morty. Hell, I bet he might have even tried to get Morty to turn on C-137. It's kind of hard to know with him. I do believe he would have had no trouble killing Morty, but the point is that he didn't do it right away when he had the chance.

Side note. Did anyone else notice that Morty was the only one to not get wounded during that battle? He was also the only one not to get targeted or shot at- aside from a drone that shot in his direction a couple times but that was it. Crazy!

Ok. This post is getting long. My point is that, despite how indirect it all was, I can now find myself a tiny bit satisfied with the small knowledge I have. If Morty met face to face with Rick Prime, I think he would try to kill him immediately and without hesitation. If Rick Prime met Morty, I think he'd act the way he did in the episode up until he felt annoyed or threatened.

It's a small analysis, but I hope you enjoyed.

#Rick and morty #rick and morty analysis #rick sanchez #morty smith #r&m #rick prime #evil morty #unmortricken

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cigarettessmokeandberries · 2 days ago

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Fixer Upper Part Two (Melissa Schemmenti x reader)

The coffee machine is fixed and Gregory has won educator of the year! But, Melissa has to write his congratulations speech on top of her double classes. Only one solution...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following day, the news found its way into Abbott- in honor of Gregory’s educator of the year award. Unlucky for Melissa, they chose her to present the award, adding more stress onto the older woman. She’s already stuck with two classes for the year.

After hearing of Melissa’s bad luck, Y/n set to work coming up with a speech about Gregory, but given his own inability to compliment his self and Melissa’s idea of re-gifting, she has her work set out for her.

A few moments after sitting down at her desk, Jacob rushes up to her, slightly out of breath.

“Y/n, Melissa is acting very strange around me and I am worried she might try to attack me.” Jacob says looking around as if she could be around any corner.

“Jacob, what?” Y/n questions with a worried smiled. Jacob moves around the desk and leans onto it before answering

“Ever since this morning she’s been giving me approving looks here and there and I am worried she is buttering me up so it will take me by surprise when she attacks.” Jacob whispers out. Y/n has to hold in a laugh looking at his worried face, knowing now what he is talking about.

“Jacob, if i tell you this you have to promise to keep it to yourself.” Jacob’s face drops from fear to a small frown as he leans in

“I won’t tell a soul.” He promises. Y/n knows better than to believe him but hopefully he will only tell Janine. If not, maybe she is slightly fucked.

As Jacob leans into listen, Y/n tells him about her run to Melissa’s favorite coffee shop yesterday and the note she left on her car with a forged signature. Jacob’s face breaks out into a giddy smile as she finishes her sentence.

“Oh my god, you are crushing hard.” Jacob gushes as he crosses his arms, leaning back on the desk. Y/n slaps his arm.

“Shut up. There is nothing wrong with being nice to someone.” She replies.

“I think you exceed being nice burning up your fingers on a coffee machine for Melissa.” Jacob jokes, backing off from the desk.

“I did that for everyone!” Y/n mumbles to him.

“Yeah? What’re you working on now?” Jacob questions as he goes to look at the speech Y/n is currently working on. She quickly turns it over before sending a glare Jacobs way.

“I kinda wish Melissa was gonna beat you up now.” Jacob raises his hands in surrender before walking out of the office.

Y/n lets out a sigh before flipping the paper back over and scanning her work. She didn’t have a crush on Melissa, she’s pretty sure she’s too far deep for that. Plus, she is grown woman, and grown woman don’t have crushes (she definitely has a crush on Melissa).

---

Lunch time arrives at Abbott and Melissa finds her seat next to Barbara and starts grading some of her classes work, needing to take this time in order to be able to finish both classes in a timely manner. As the teachers fill in to the breakroom, Jacob walks up to Melissa and she raises an eyebrow in his direction.

“You’re welcome, Melissa.” He says giddily before taking his seat. Melissa sighs before nodding her head toward him. Jacob’ll take what he can get, and that is all he will get. Melissa turns back to her phone, taking a break from the mountain she has left, before she turns back towards Jacob, having noticed Y/n’s absence for the second day in a row.

“Hey, Hill, where’s the other one of ya’?” Melissa asks, looking toward the empty seat beside Janine, who also looks up at the question. Jacob pauses for a moment “uh-” he starts but gets cut off from the door opening. Jacob lets out a breath of relief seeing Y/n walk in as he turns back to his conversation with Janine.

“You weren’t here yesterday and you were late today, what are ya up to?” Melissa raises her eyebrow up at her, suspicious.

“I just forgot my lunch in my car,” Y/n lifts up her lunch bag and takes her seat. Melissa stares a little longer before Jacob butts in.

“You never worry about anyone else who’s late.” Jacob whines, slightly offended. Melissa levels him with a glare before Janine pipes up as well.

“Seems like you like Y/n.” Janine jokes smiling. Her smile fading when Melissa moves her glare towards her.

“I just noticed it, pipsqueak.” Melissa tuts, taking a glance at Y/n who’s smiling down at her lunch. Melissa gives Janine and Jacob one more Schemmenti glare, returning to her phone once again. Barbara barely catches a small smile.

---

“-cause you can’t choose when people acknowledge you. This is your moment.” After searching the school for Melissa, running short on time to get the speech to her, Y/n overhears Melissa’s encouragement to Gregory in his classroom. The cameras outside the room zoom into Y/n waiting outside the door and then back to Melissa and Gregory’s conversation. As they continue their conversation, Y/n recalls all the times Melissa has gone without acknowledgement, and although everyone does, it just doesn’t seem right that a woman who does so much for the students and school doesn’t get the acknowledgement she deserves.

Y/n is brought out of her thoughts as Gregory makes his way out of the classroom, Melissa following behind.

“Hey, Melissa,” Y/n shouts, catching up in pace with her and handing her the speech. Melissa looks at the paper suspiciously for a moment before turning her gaze to the younger woman.

“What’s this?” Melissa starts to look over the paper. eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

“I know you were struggling to write the speech, so I thought I would help you out a little and write a small one. You already have so much to deal with, with two classes, and I just thought I would be able to take some of that stress away. I’m sorry if I-” Y/n’s rambling is cut off by Melissa’s hand on her shoulder.

“Hun, I can handle it. You don’t need to worry ‘bout me. But,” Melissa looks around and seeing the halls empty continues “Thank you. I appreciate it. This whole thing has been a shitshow.” Melissa jokes, smirking at the younger woman.

“Yeah, no problem. Only took a few minutes.” Y/n brushes off the praise, even though it did take going through Gregory’s work file (which Ava had yet to update) and a short snoop session through his desk to find something to fill the lines.

“Thanks, hun.” Melissa lifts the paper up with a smile and a nod before starting to walk toward the gym.

“Melissa,” Y/n calls out before she can get too far.

“Huh?” Melissa turns back and raises an eyebrow for Y/n to finish.

“I just-,” Y/n cuts herself off, trying to find the words, before taking a breath and meeting Melissa’s eyes, “I notice you, Melissa. You’re a great teacher and I- You deserve a lot more acknowledgement, that’s all. But, for whatever its worth, I notice you.” Y/n bites her lip, waiting only a moment for a reply, before fleeing down the hall.

Melissa watches Y/n down the hall, a realization kicking in as she turns into the gym.

*She’s never told Jacob about her favorite coffee shop*

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you

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justheretodump · 3 days ago

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this is going to be dc x danny phantom x miraculous ladybug x spiderman

---

jazz fenton and constantine had met, of course, on a dreary december night, when rain had poured ominously. with thundering clouds above, constantine had blinked awake from a coma-like nap to the sound of knocking on his apartment door.

a wet and scowling jazz had stood on the other side, orange hair stuck to her skin and shaking hands gripping a leather tome to her chest. despite her shaky appearance, she spoke clearly, southern drawl shaping the vowels uniquely, "john constantine? my name's jazz fenton, may i come in?"

"no."

trying to slam the door shut had no affect, as she had simply shoved the book in the way.

"i really need your help."

"fuck off."

constantine blocked the open slit with his body as she shimmied her knee in for more leverage.

"i'm a history student at gotham u." another mini scuffle as both pushed against the door. "i'm looking for information on an old myth." constantine tried using his hip to push the tome out of the way. "do you know about lazarus pits?"

constantine rebooted his brain to shake away the shock. clearing his throat, he backed away, the door squeaking on its hinges to show the smirking girl. "may i come in?"

the australian man scoffed and drifted away to the kitchen table. the student surveyed the crappy apartment as she followed, sitting down across from him with a relieved grunt. she put the book on the table.

he eyed the girl warily, "what's this about lazarus pits? where'd you hear it?"

she cleared her throat, back straight and hands crossed on her lap. if it wasn't for her sorry state, she would be the image of professional.

"i'm not in a position to discuss my sources. however, from what i've heard, there's one underneath this city." her eyes glinted a steely aquamarine. "i need to see it."

constantine barked a gruff laugh. "you're crazy. there isn't a chance in hell ranga." he jerked his head at the book on the table. "what's with that then?"

her hands flipped its pages, stopping at a detailed drawing of a bubbling pit. upside down, it was hard for constantine to decipher. "it says in here that long ago, bubbling pits of green water were used by witches to speak with the dead. they could only be found in places with a strong lack of godly devotion, invoking satan's forces." she huffed, a sad smile lifting her face. "if i can confirm gotham's lazarus pit and what it consists of, i can further argue the existence of gotham's own witch coven in the 1600s before the salem trials. for my thesis, of course."

"for your thesis," constantine echoed, a bit mockingly.

"of course." repeated jazz pleasantly. "if you're so unwilling to come along, a few directions would suffice."

the man snarled, "no dice kiddo, scram."

jazz seemed unfazed, gathering herself up with the grace of a dancer. sweeping the book back into her hands, she walked towards the doorway. under the frame, she turned to tutt at him, "i'd spray some air freshner in here. cigarrette smoke attracts unfavorable forces."

---

jazz fenton did not disappear nor fade into obscurity. constantine had the pleasure of her company the following wednesday, where both had escaped certain death at the hands of a cursed portrait pulling unassuming tourists into its french landscape.

sat in the ruins of a crumbling mansion, constantine lit his cigarrette and studied the girl across from him. "so, how did your research lead you here?"

jazz snorted, decorative mace still in hand even after the fight had ended, "property records were transferred to the gotham government after the trials. just had to figure out what victim it was connected to and, voila, witch mansion."

---

after much persuasion and conversation, constantine decided that this girl, with the smarts for battle and a deep intuision for the magical, would be his prodigy. and if her company included good banter, fatherly worries and emotional attachment, that was neither here nor there.

---

two years later, jazz fenton was a doctor in historical studies of gotham folklore, a museum consultator and a justice league dark probationary member.

batman and zatanna, both well aware of the orphan constantine had taken under his wing, had not been surprised to greet her at the door of the australian's apartment.

"sorry for the mess guys, we've been drawing all night." they shimmied across the paper covered floor into the kitchen where the blonde was eating a bowl of cereal. "we've narrowed down the source of the problem somewhat. last thursday, what you saw on that hill, we think it might be an old gaelic deity, cailleach."

zatanna frowned at the idea, "a gaelic deity? deities don't leave their countries."

constantine spoke through a garble of cheerios, "yes but what if they weren't this earth's deity?"

batman remained silent and jazz spoke to him, "when a deity is borne from worship or belief, they tend to only exist there."

"something only exists if it is observed." the bat mused.

jazz brightened, "yes! deities only exist in the countries that they're observed in. however, we believe this cailleach is not our scotland's deity but rather doesn't exist tied to a reality at all."

"but a deity can't exist without a belief well," zatanna replied.

"well, yes," constantine stood up and dragged over a vintage drawing of an old woman in a cloak, her hand wielding a hammer, "but what if someone could die and leave their reality's vibrations? go neither to their hell or heaven or hades' underworld or valhalla or whatever else, and take their beliefs with them?"

"you're talking about the infinite realms."

"the infinite realms?" intoned batman.

jazz showed the caped man a note, this time a depiction of a vast land with floating islands and starry skies. "the infinite realms is a different dimension. it exists on another plane, like icthultu's realm. when we talk about the afterlife, bad or good, every reality has their own. however, the infinite realms can sometimes bleed into every reality. because of this, souls touched by its essence can slip the afterlife and go on to exist in the infinite realms."

"if you were to die bats," constantine leaned back, "there would only be one batman wherever we go after death. but in the infinite realms, you could have 2 or 5 or 10, all dead and from different worlds."

zatanna hummed at all this and looked closer at the runes they'd compiled, "so if a hardcore cailleach believer passed on to the infinite realms, cailleach could come to life there."

constantine snapped his finger, "exactly! that's the theory, but really, it only works if the ghost monster that attacked the park next to the hill is the belief well. not really human-like but a possibiliy. the infinite realms has a bad habit of creating weird shit."

"can we expect more creatures to come from the infinite realms?" asked batman.

"no." "maybe."

jazz and constantine whipped their heads to exchange irritated stares. the australian man got up roughly, chair scraping the floor, and took his bowl to the sink, the faucet water breaking the silence.

jazz sat down, gesturing for their two guests to finally sit. she reached underneath the table towards a purple backbag, and pulled out her old book tome. flipping it open, she showed the pit drawing to the other two heroes.

"what if the lazarus pits were connected to the infinite realms?"

zatanna leaned in, intrigued, batman remained stone faced, and constantine scoffed loudly. the blonde began muttering but jazz continued on. "i believe Ra's tried to erase all records of the pits, but mentions of reviving waters can be found all across cult scripts and witch coven writings. waters that could bring back the dead, that whispered with human voices, that sometimes held goulish creatures underneath its waters. a material thick and glowing green penetrating the soil around it. the only evidence of the infinite realms is a page from doctor fate, and he mentioned a green, jelly-like substance!"

constantine huffed again, like an angry boar, and turned, hands covered in soap suds. "i swear to god, you're making connections where they don't exist! if the pits had anything to do with the infinite realms, that would've been the first thing doctor fate told us!"

jazz stood, hands planted on the table, "if you would just trust me, we could go check and rule it out, but ancients forbid i'm right! you're just scared about wha-"

constantine got close to her and pointed in her face, "you've been obsessed with those pits since you stepped into my goddamn apartment two years ago, let it go jazz or i swear i'll pull you off this case."

a thousand emotions flickered across jazz's face before, with teary eyes and a thunderous scowl, she stomped away, figure disappearing into the living room. faintly, the sound of the balcony doors sliding open echoed before a soft click followed.

zatanna, who had witnissed many of jazz and constantine's fights before, and knew how deeply the man cared for the girl, heaved a sigh. both were stubborn and it would take a bit before things settled. she decided to keep quiet, reaching for jazz's tome to keep occupied. as she reached across, a soapy hand impeded her. looking at constantine, he wore a frown, "she doesn't like others touching it. go look at the runes, see if you recognize anything."

zatanna smiled a small thing at the man she was so fond of, and got up to do so.

batman, who had watched everything with mixed feelings, watched the australian go back to the sink. faced with his back, he spoke lowly, "the pit's too far away from the park."

constantine sighed, shoulders drooping, "no, it wouldn't work like that. if it did, anyone revived by the pit would have to stay close to it. and if you destroy some of them, the undead might go back to being dead."

batman mulled this over in silence. he was undecided on the matter, too concerned about what it meant that the pits might be doors to another dimension. he conveyed his worries then, "if the pits are connected to the realms, how were we able to destroy them before?"

"if, and that's a big fucking if, they are connected to the realms, the essence can't be destroyed. it's all around us, all the time. the important bit is stacking it in one place to create a way through. like a stone bridge. when you destroy the pits, all you're doing is breaking up the stone, but the stone crumbles to the bottom, and you could, hypothetically, pick up each stone and put it together again. i guess the only things that works as a glue for it in our world is water."

"you're pretty calm discussing it now."

"one of these days that girl's gonna end up digging a hole she'll die in."

"kids are like that."

---

later on, when the apartment meeting had ended with no new leads and batman had debriefed the other bats, it was decided, unknown to constantine, that red robin and batman would look into the current state of the gotham lazarus pit. zatanna and martian manhunter would visit arabia to check the other naturally formed pit.

constantine and jazz were still on the fritz, but one evening, to constantine's concern, the girl had called to say she would be in illinois for a few days, "visiting the orphanage". the redhead had never done so before, but who was the australian to interrogate her? he wished her a good trip and that was that.

---

jazz had been missing for two weeks, calls unanswered, phone untrackable. gotham had witnessed two more ghost-like monster attacks, and all three of them had been untouchable, disappearing on their own in 30 minutes. the bats were too concerned with uncovering the source, justice league dark had been put on the case and too was scrambling for clues, and constantine was ready to rip his hair out in concern for his prodigy.

on his way to the airport, in the backseat of a taxi, ready to fly to springfield, his phone rang, lighting up with a smiling graduation picture of jazz fenton.

he rushed to answer it, "hello?! ranga?! jazz!"

crackling came through, the mic rustling before a breathless voice called back, "cons---tine! we ne--- help! i'm outs--- f amity park, th--- a sig---al blo---. you n---d to come! the hou--- a portal! --- stantine?! hello?!"

the line cut off. constantine told the taxi driver to floor it.

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #miraculous ladybug au #peter parker in gotham #batman #dc #danny phantom

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katsusdiary · 2 days ago

Text

The S*x Lives of College Girls -- K. Bakugo

--mixed!fem!reader , bnha college au, no quirk au

a/n: sorry this is so late :,) I srsly meant to post earlier but was so busy, here you go!! I also have a small oikawa Drabble in my drafts lmk if I should post.

part 4 !!

prologue // previous part // next part

The dorm meeting was insanely boring to say the least. It only consisted of rules and events coming up. The dorm advisor tried to get everyone to talk but it ultimately failed. After the meeting you and the girls headed back to your dorm to hang out a bit before going back out. The only one stressing about what to wear was Mina, the rest of you didn’t care as much.

It was almost time to leave and you threw on a pair of sweatpants and a decent top you borrowed from mina. You and the girls were waiting on the couch for Mina. “give me a sec i’m almost done!” Mina yelled from your shared room. You and the girls rolled your eyes knowing it will take more than “a sec”

“ok i’m ready to go, let’s go” Mina said as she emerged from your shared room. She was wearing something casual as well but with makeup done slightly better. You and the girls left the dorm and headed to the boy’s dorm. Once you left mina sent a quick text to Kirishima letting him know that we were in our way.

It wasn’t that far from your dorm so you got there pretty quickly. Once you got there Mina finally built up the courage to knock. Kirishima opened up the door with a bright smile on his face. “Hey! so glad you could make it, come in.” He gave mina a quick hug and held the door open for the rest of you. You looked up at him to give him a quick “hi” and a polite smile. When you walked in you could hear soft music playing, and 3 other boys sitting on the couch. The blonde one looked familiar you thought as you took a quick glance around the room.

2 of them stood up to formally greet themselves. Another blonde one introduced himself as Kaminari, he had a flirting and playful demeanor to him. The other one had black hair and introduced himself as Sero, he had more of a laidback vibe to him but seemed slightly high.

“And the grumpy one in the corner is Bakugo, he doesn’t bite i promise” kaminar joked as he directed your attention to bakugo. As you went to glance over at him, you locked eyes. In that moment you realized that you had recognized him from the cafe a week earlier. He quickly looked back down to whatever was on his phone, no acknowledgment whatsoever.

“Here why don’t you take a seat, relax a bit. Can I get you anything to drink” Kirishima kindly directed you to the couch and a set of beanbags. Opting out of alcohol you decided to ask for a water.

The night was going very good, you made very good conversation with everyone in the rook (besides bakugo with him staying in the corner mostly observing). It was getting closer to midnight and you could tell everyone was getting pretty sleepy with Mina practically draping herself over Kirishima.

You all decided it was a good idea to stay in touch because of the good connection you all had so before you left, you all exchanged phone numbers and instagrams. Saying bye to everyone was a bittersweet moment, not wanting the fun conversations to end but wanting to go back to your warn bed.

prologue // previous part // next part

tags: @kalulakunundrum @pthmmsqrde @missmanda511 @M779

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bloomiii · 2 days ago

Note

Okay, I have been thinking about Diluc and have thoughts on this post.

First, I disagree with the idea of Diluc being extremely bitchy/aggressive towards Kaeya in the early patches, especially in Venti's quest. The dialogue follows below and if anything, Kaeya is the one that is bitchy.

Diluc simply asks him to "drink responsibly" and Kaeya is the one that goes "you'd throw me out with the trash." And we learn Diluc still cares even if he won't admit it by keeping the vase. One of the main differences between Diluc and Kaeya in the early patches was that Kaeya values the past and their childhood (perhaps too much) while Diluc is the exact opposite and wants to leave it completely behind.

This makes sense for both characters. Kaeya has little hope for the future because of his fate/destiny. Kaeya feels like Diluc doesn't value their past while Diluc sees little value in the extremely naive person he was before.

And this tracks with the Diluc's message at Cat's Tail:

Even I sometimes reminisce about the carefree and happy days of the past. The warmth of the Knights, my friends, my father... Everything was perfect. But one can never return to the past. For the sake of the future, I cannot keep on dreaming in memories.

Diluc's mindset is about always pushing forward, never looking back, (which is funny with the whole turnfire lore in Natlan). One of his ascension lines says "No matter what dares to stand in my way, I must press forward."

And in Weinlesfest, he says about Razor's situation that "tragedy can drive personal growth and learning how to face it head-on is part of growing up."

In that coffee-making event, Diluc says he was "young and naive" for *checks notes* making some juice as a child.

In GAA, Kaeya encourages Diluc to do something fun with the seashell collecting, and Diluc is surprised Kaeya would remember that, because he thinks that Kaeya must have left it all behind, like Diluc wants to do.

I think Diluc has gone too far in the opposite direction, becoming cynical and untrusting, and his arc in the game is about learning how to rely on people and trust again. This is what the traveler does for Diluc, helping him learn how to trust people again. And this is why Kaeya is the first one to reach out, because Diluc, despite still caring about Kaeya (he keep his secret and he keeps the vase) sees no point in rekindling their relationship, in trying to go back to the past.

So, I don't think that Hidden Strife overly changed the nature of their relationship. Kaeya, in the manga, reaches out first, and Diluc agrees to help with his plan. Kaeya sends the first letter and Diluc reciprocates by sending letters back. In Diluc's story quest, Kaeya makes the first move by telling Diluc he is glad Diluc has an assistant (read: glad that he is trusting people) and won't tell his DNH secret.

And Diluc starts reciprocating when Kaeya reaches out. He helps Kaeya with making Jean's skin, and he adds food to Angel's Share after Kaeya mentions it. Eventually culminating in Diluc reaching out on his own in Weinlesfest and inviting Kaeya for dinner after Kaeya initially refuses.

Along with Kaeya and Diluc's different personalities, where Kaeya is mischievous and Diluc, not being very conversational, often refuses to play along and kind of just ignores a lot of what Kaeya says (Diluc's little Hmph's) may make it seem like they dislike each other.

They often give each other shit, but its not from a place of true hatred. Like in GAA with Kaeya complaining about Diluc melting his ice bridge, when he could have just left on his own if he really wanted to.

I also know that people think Hidden Strife to be a complete retcon. I also thought this. But then I came across this post that actually talked about how all of it could work without retconning. Some food for thought.

based on diluc’s story quest, he didn’t seem to know that kaeya knew (or suspected) that diluc was the darknight hero til the end of that questline, though kaeya’s letters (starting at his seventh letter, possibly his sixth) imply he might know or suspect that diluc is the dnh. i’m inclined to believe that the events of diluc’s story quest took place between the sixth and seventh letters (where kaeya goes from a more vague suggestion that dnh and diluc would ‘get along well’ to outright stating that “my lips are sealed”) which casts the final letter exchange (Kaeya’s ninth letter and diluc’s second, which was in response to that) in an interesting light.

My complicated feelings about Diluc's character is that his character stories set him up on this loss of innocence arc, this previously naive child, who learns that the world is not black and white, that people he cares about could do "bad" things, be involved with "bad" people, and that they could have good or understandable reasons for doing "bad" things. But then he is put in scenarios where it is obvious he has the moral high ground and never has to work through morally complex scenarios and hard decisions.

(Like, I read this fic where Diluc is hunting down a fatui grunt, and Diluc is like "tell me what I want to know or I kill you" and the fatui is like " you really except me to betray my country and my family for you" and chooses death. And he is forced to acknowledge the other side could have just as righteous motives and parallel it with Kaeya who would be betraying his (blood) family if he sided with Mondstadt. Or any fic where someone comes after Diluc for revenge because he indiscriminately killed fatui in Snezhnaya and killed someone they cared about. Or his whole parallel with Signora who was also betrayed by the KOF and now hates Mond and is on the side of the fatui. Or Eroch, who is corrupt, but could be said to be acting for Mondstadt's greater good by preserving the people's faith in the KOF.)

They need to reveal more about Crepus' shady actions for Diluc's arc to work (did Diluc find out his father actually did terrible things to get the delusion or was he just a stoog). They need to tell us how Diluc felt about receiving a vision under the upbringing of Crepus, who is characterized as a faithful/religious man.

"Diluc's father had once said to him that the world would never turn its back on the faithful. But now, the Knights of Favonius trampled on his faith like it was nothing. He couldn't help but wonder: What was his father's view on faith in his final moments?"- Diluc's character story 3

"Visions are a light in the sea of darkness that surrounds those who have lost their way. But for those who have faith, they are little more than badges of conviction."- Diluc's vision voiceline

And now he uses his vision, after abandoning it during his father's death, but it is just a tool to him.

And then in Hidden Strife, we get this.

"I will go out and experience all that the world has to offer, just as you have suggested. My father’s will shall find continuation through me."

Which seems to change Diluc's three year trip to something that was done with a calm mind and rational thought, encouraged by Alice as a good way to deal with his grief, rather than something done in the height of anger and grief, resulting in him almost getting killed by the harbingers, contradicting his character stories:

"After his close encounter with death, Diluc took a long hard look at his past and the anger he had harbored for so long. Acknowledging his shortcomings, he decided to join the underground intelligence network."

and

"The events of his years away had purged him of his childish immaturity, and turned him into a hero ready to shoulder his father's will once more. Each night, from the shadows, he fought for Mondstadt."

I would love to see evidence of Diluc's supposed enlightenment and understanding gained from his tragedy and his three years away.

If it's not too much trouble, could you expand on Diluc's "already incoherent characterization" you mentioned in one of your recent posts? I'm just curious cause I also feel that there's something off about him writing-wise but I can't put my finger on it.

sigh. so, at the start of the game hoyo wrote diluc as super aggressive and negative towards kaeya specifically and knights in general, and all of their interactions are very hostile. they are having bitch fights every time they are in the same room.

like, fandom likes to pretend that diluc has guilt, bc of like some anonymous message on a public board that sounds like it's diluc feeling bad, which hoyo back-wrote. but they can't gaslight me, i just recently replayed start of the game content on my new account. like first time diluc appears is in kaeya's domain after traveler and kaeya cleared it, and diluc bitches at kaeya for no fucking reason and kaeya is v passive aggressive back at him. they have bitch fight in venti's quest. diluc's entire quest is about him trying to keep kaeya from discovering he's darknight hero and he specifically makes it known that kaeya is unwelcome every time he shows up in the tavern. and he sounds negative when bringing up kaeya for any reason.

and then hoyo started to back-pedal. idk what happened, maybe the direction of the plot shifted. maybe the writer who was writing them in this conflict vein quit. maybe at the start they only had vague idea of like brothers at war with each other, and once they started to flesh it out and add nuance, they've realized that like, burning your baby brothers' eye out might be understandable in the moment of trauma and shock, but then acting like you're on high horse and treating him like garbage for YEARS after is a bit of a psycho behavior.

quick aside bc i know there are ppl who think that, um, kaeya "deserved" it and like. he was what, not older than 10 when he was left at the winery. and he was about 17 when he confessed. he was a traumatized kid who kept a secret bc his bio father told him that the fate of his entire country depends on it. get a grip. but as i said, with the same logic, diluc was also in shock and trauma, and i do not fault him the fight itself. what doesn't track is how diluc acts years LATER, when he had time to think.

so they started to drastically soften diluc AND back-writing retcons. Hidden Strife letters are all about it. They were like oh, brothers were always in contact! Diluc is not a maniac, he was polite to the knights and he told kaeya to take care :) :) :) this creates new set of problems. not only it gives diluc personality split where he was incredibly aggressive to kaeya in person, but apparently normal in the letters. But also, we have letters from Kaeya that make it obvious he knew immediately that diluc is a darknight hero and they both were chill about it. But like! diluc's entire story quest is about him trying to keep kaeya from learning that! like, come on! why then diluc did all these stupid scooby doo shenanigans with slimes and shit???

now i think they are trying to shift responsibility for reconciliation from diluc to kaeya, which is the only issue that affects kaeya's own characterization. bc they are very hard going into "all servants at winery ADORE kaeya and treat him like family and welcome him!!" and fandom like, extends it to diluc now, like diluc is welcoming kaeya too and kaeya is a silly goose who has his hang ups and refuses to visit. as if getting your eye burned off, trying to reach out first and getting "ugh, its you" treatment when you show up at your brother's tavern is just like. a lil awkward situation that kaeya himself should get over without any effort on diluc's side and he should just ~realize~ that he's still part of the family lol. and ppl justify it like "well we don't know how diluc actually feels, he probably feels guilt (anon message) and wants to reconcile". which like. so we don't know, but kaeya is supposed to figure out and reach out AGAIN, when diluc at any time could've just told him that he's welcomed.

and now in kaeya's hangout we learn more about their childhoods which tbh hurts diluc even more. like how are we gonna be pretending that diluc cares about kaeya when he returned to mond and found his baby brother, who was apparently the sweetest gentlest child in the world, his loyal shadow for entire childhood, couldn't lie, was taking punishments for diluc, and see him now becoming a high functioning alcoholic with brazenly unhealthy persona of liar and manipulator, and like NOT get worried and try to reach out. which i don't think it was hoyo's intention, they just wanted to add the tragic sweetie uwu to kaeya's characterization, but they did not think how it reflect on diluc in global context

so now diluc's characterization flip flopped in several directions, and he doesn't really has an arc or plotline going. he's kinda just there now, more of symbol than character, and hoyo just writes whatever they want for him without any regard for any previous lore

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