#can’t believe we only have one season and a bit left

[batringz]

Into the Dreamlands

[the-flaneur]

dearest darling flan would you ever consider writing for lewis 😔 i do not see nearly enough fics to justify js how attractive he is and it pains me

dont go insane (lh44)

pairing: lewis hamilton x driver!reader, platonic grid x reader

summary: when george invites some of the drivers over for a drunken presentation night, what better topic to present than your speciality? lewis' di-...outfits

warnings: suggestive mentions

wc: 1243

a/n: your wish is my command 😉 may have deviated a little bit, but dont worry i have many more fics lined up for this very attractive man

[masterlist] [request]

“ok ok everybody, thank you for joining us for the very first annual driver’s presentation night, hosted by yours truly, george russell. a connoisseur of powerpoint presentations, if i do say so myself,” george grinned.

the driver’s spare meeting room, which had been earlier crammed with spinning wheelie chairs and long white desks, had been replaced with the comfort of some old beanbags and blankets, as you, max, george, lando, oscar, charles, and alex settled in for a very long evening. as the last words left george's lips, a round of uncoordinated cheers erupted from the drunken audience. max let out an especially loud whoop before nearly faceplanting into a beanbag. 

"you're all welcome," he said with exaggerated politeness. "now then, without further ado, let's dive right into our first presentation of the evening!"

he gestured grandly towards you, nearly losing his balance in the process. "everyone, please welcome the one the only, the illustrious and femioone-feminonnena…blimey…” he cackled, tossing you the screen remote, “oh you know who it is…y/n! welcome yourself up to the stage,” 

"thank you, georgie poo. and hello everyone, i'm very very happy to be here tonight to present a special look back at the goat’s fashion choices. i would’ve rather regaled you with tales of his other…talents, but george made me promise to keep it pg, cause there are children here,” you giggled in front of all your friends, with a pointed look at lando and oscar, who seem to look mildly offended.

“obviously as the stunning wife of formula 1's golden boy himself," you continued, clicking onto the first slide, which showed you and lewis posed together for his recent dior collection, the boys hooting and hollering appreciatively, “i am the best and the only person able to give such a presentation, so make sure you’re listening,”

more applause and whistling followed as you clicked through to the first slide of lewis from the 2024 met gala, “of course, we gotta start off with a newfound lewis hamilton classic, the 2024 met gala. simple, classy, a great message and followed the theme, unlike so many others,” you rolled your eyes at the last bit, as the boys laughed.

“i can’t believe he disses my fashion sense, when his older met gala looks are questionable,” charles groans, swiping to show the group a photo pulled up on his phone. you sigh when you see lewis’ zig zag suit from 2019; definitely not camp enough for you or 2024 lewis.

“hey cut the man some slack,” alex laughs, seeing your pouting face, as you continue to click through the slides showcasing his various looks. the room continues to fill with laughter and playful jabs both at your commentary and the well-meaning yet snarky comments from the other drivers.

on the seventh slide, a photo of lewis in a see-through mesh top from the early 2021 season appeared on the screen, which definitely caught the drivers’ eyes. his chiseled features were highlighted with the bright backdrop, and the material of the shirt definitely emphasised his broad shoulders and toned physique. as well as the absolutely sinful tattoos criss-crossing his biceps, yummy…

"he looked absolutely dashing here, didn't he?" you purred, voice dripping with admiration. pausing the presentation, you let the image linger on the screen as you continued, "and trust me, he cleaned up even better in private that night..."

the room erupted in good-natured eye-rolls and chuckles at your suggestive remark. lando, never one to miss an opportunity, quipped, "well, we all knew lew was a total “stud”,"

oscar snorted, "yeah, until he decides to show up to the races in a black shirt and pants with hummingbirds on it," the others groaned in agreement, recalling lewis' infamous (amongst the drivers) outfit choice from several years prior. you laughed, unfazed by the teasing, "okay, okay, i get it. but this look right here? classic lewis - sophisticated, stylish, and undeniably sexy,” pointing once again to another showstopper lewis look.

you continued to advance the slideshow to the next image, another candid shot of you and lewis leaving a glamorous red-carpet event hand-in-hand. george leaned in to whisper something to alex, both of them grinning mischievously. 

george, still smitten with his own awaiting powerpoint prowess, decided to inject some competitiveness into the situation. "alright, let's not forget why we're really here, shall we? fashion, schmashion - who still really wants to hear more about y/n's insightful analysis of lewis's wardrobe choices?"

the room erupted in laughter, as you shot george a stern look, "hey now, my presentation is far more interesting than your mediocre slide designs, george!"

undeterred, george retorted, "oh yeah?” 

your face grew warm at the snide remark, but a spark of competitiveness ignited in your eyes. "oh, i think i can handle whatever you throw my way, george! don’t mess with the best," with a dramatic flourish, you clicked the remote to advance the slideshow featuring a collage of george's most...questionable outfits from past casual outings events. the drivers gasped in unison, their jaws dropping at the sight of george sporting everything from neon-colored blazers to patterned socks that clashed with his trousers. even the most tame of them were at least questionable to the discerning eye.

max let out a low whistle, while lando and oscar burst into uncontrollable laughter. with a sly grin, you continued, “i wouldn’t get ahead with the insult boys…george ain’t the only one who needs to pay for fashion crimes,”

"let's start with you, maxie," you sighed, pulling up one singular image on the presentation, the red bull racing suit, “unfortunately, your one fashion weakness is that you have no variety. did you know out of almost all the media pictures people get of you, it’s like a 1 in 500 to get one of you not in your suit, let alone anything fashionably interesting. you really need to convince pr to dress you in something else. how else am i supposed to critique you?" you humph.

max held up his hands in mock defense, laughing along with the others. "clearly, it was a stroke of genius."

as your merciless fashion critiques continued, the room descended into a fit of giggles and playful jabs. even george couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by your preparations. lando shouted as you ripped his metaphorical fashion career away from him, "you know, if you're going to tear us apart like this, maybe we should just let you design our outfits from now on."

"oh, i think i've got enough on my plate with being mrs. hamilton already. besides, i have a feeling everyone might object to me dressing up the entire f1 grid in matching juicy couture tracksuits." the group erupted in laughter once more, and max raised his glass in a toast.

"to y/n, the only person in this room brave enough to call us out on our questionable fashion choices," max declared, his voice laced with humor and appreciation, "may her sharp tongue and keen eye for style forever keep us in check," the others echoed the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“but don’t worry i’ve saved an absolute treat for last,” you giggled, clicking towards the next slide, and the drivers, not for the first time tonight, were speechless.

there, plastered across the screen was a very…tasteful selection of lewis’ best pics. and the title: best clothes = no clothes.

being mrs hamilton was so much fun ;)

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @nina-or-anna-or-nora

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[blueeyedgirll]

cuddles - emily prentiss x bau!reader

this fic includes: fluff, cuddling, only one bed trope (kind of?), vague descriptions of cm typical violence, no beta or proofread we die like emily’s fake death, penelope garcia being the best person to ever have graced the earth, no use of y/n, f!reader

a/n: guys i’m on season 7 now (^_-) also i don’t know how the fbi works SUE ME

“God, what a mess!” Emily exclaims, setting her bags down in the corner of the hotel room.

Unfortunately, due to the horrendously overcrowded convention going on nearby and your latest unsub’s comfort zone, you, JJ, Penelope, and Emily were forced to share a room.

“I can’t believe they could only give us two rooms. Couldn’t we have just stayed somewhere else?” JJ adds, removing her coat and hanging it in the room’s tiny closet.

“Unfortunately, my friends, our administration seems to love us enough to pay for our hotels, but not enough to move us into a company they don’t have a rapport with,” Penelope explains. She removes her hair accessories and piles them on the bathroom counter, her foot wedged in the bathroom door to stay in the conversation. “But it’s like a sleepover! Us girls get to share a room, and the boys have their own.”

“I haven’t had a sleepover since I was 12,” JJ says.

“Me neither,” you pipe up. “So who’s sleeping where tonight?”

Your eyes scan the room. Four girls, two beds, and eight eyes glancing at each other.

“I’m fine with sharing, but I do need to let you know I tend to steal blankets,” Penelope says, placing her accessories in a small box.

“Yeah, I’m fine with anything.” JJ says.

You and Emily briefly lock eyes. If you said sleeping in the same bed as Emily didn’t sound amazing, you’d be a liar. She’d been distracting you from your work and almost all your thoughts for the last few weeks; something about her demeanor, or her dark, sharp features, or that streak of playfulness she lets show on occasion. Whatever it is, it continues to drive you up a wall.

“Well, if none of you care, I want the bed closer to the AC unit because it is a stupidly warm night here.” Penelope steps over to the bed on the right side of the room, unpacking a fuzzy blanket and an extra pillow — how did she fit that in there? — from her bag.

“True that. If you two don’t mind, I’ll sleep closer to the AC too.” JJ says, looking between the two of you before moving.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You say, just a little bit too happy. You tell Emily to go ahead and get comfortable because you’re going to change. She nods as you shut yourself in the bathroom.

You use the bathroom to take a moment, take a breath. Part of you wonders what it will be like, sleeping in the same bed as Emily. The rest of you wonders how you’re going to keep your cool.

You change into your sleep clothes, a tank top and small shorts. The cool air of the room makes the hair on your body stand up.

You walk back out to a dark, silent room. The only light left on was the one to the left of Emily.

“Ready for bed?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say, climbing into bed and wrapping the soft covers around you. Emily clicks the light off and slides down in the bed.

Before you can even start relaxing, images of the day flash back into your mind. The things the unsub did to his victims. The distraught loved ones of the deceased. The endless papers, leading you to repeated dead ends.

It only feels like a few minutes, but over the course of time, you grow colder and more restless. You toss and turn, trying to get more comfortable, but to no avail. Sighing, you turn to check the time, trying to find an estimate of how much sleep you would get.

The clock reads 4:24. You start contemplating just waking up extra early, but before you can reach a conclusion, you hear a whisper.

“Hey, you alright?” Emily whispers, turning to face you.

You pause for a moment. How honest should you be?

“Yeah, just… cold,” you say.

Emily takes a moment. You think she’s going to get up to grab a blanket, or lend you a hoodie, or anything else, but she scoots over to where you are and wraps her warm arms around your body. She gives you a firm squeeze. You know she knows you’re not just cold.

She starts to move away like it was just a hug. Before you can make a better decision, your hands stop her.

“Do you want me to stay?” Emily whispers.

You nod. Even though the darkness, Emily understands. She moves back to you, tucking your head into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around your middle and pulls the blanket fully over you.

She smells like lotion and coffee and clean clothes. It’s addictive. You nuzzle your head deeper into her, earning a small laugh and her hand making its way into your hair. She runs her nails over your scalp, brushing the hair off your neck.

“Are you okay?” she asks. You just hum, making her laugh again. “Goodnight. Sleep well for me.”

And with her arms around you, hand in your hair, you drift off into a comforting sleep.

bonus — the next morning, you wake up to giggling, which is quickly hushed. the entire day you and emily are the victims of glances and hushed whispers. on the jet home, you finally decide to ask penelope what was up with it. she doesn’t verbally respond, just shows you a picture of you sleeping like a baby, tucked into emily’s chest. at that moment she comes over, smiles, and walks back to her seat.

[enwoso]

LOVIE’S 2024 WRAPPED | smau

— grumpy universe masterlist

in which we see lovie year through the eyes of alessia’s social media

any pics where it’s supposed to be alessia pls use your imagination and pretend it’s her or whoever it’s supposed to be☺️

alessia

liked by alexgreenwood and 681,300 others

alessia january filled with mini trips with my mini me, fifa awards and team goals!

comments

ellatoone is that your dress she’s got on?

-> alessia yep, woke up and she told me she wanted to win a fifa award😃

user1 another year another iconic year for tiny!

victoriapelova did she get to see the real midnight?

-> alessia nope she was fast asleep by seven, maybe next year!

user2 🔥🔥🔥🔥

29 january 2024

alessia

liked by ellatoone and 793,152 others

alessia cheers to a february full of love and laughter.

comments

millieturner wait is that the necklace you were saying with tiny’s handwriting

-> alessia yes! it’s adorable🥹

user3 wait tiny is only four?

leahwilliamson glad you love it!

-> alessia i’ll never stop saying thank you for it❤️ best birthday gift!

user4 that coffee looks bomb.

27 february 2024

alessia has uploaded to her story.

alessia

liked by giorgiorusso_ and 410,392 others

alessia started may in north london, ended it in australia.

comments

user5 tiny in the football strip is so cute☺️

giorgiorusso my little mate👊🏻

-> alessia you can tell, she’s picking up all your little habits🙄

kyracooneycross miss you 👍🏻✌🏻

user6 seeing how loved tiny is, is so wholesome

katiemccabe the best time!

30 may 2024

alessia had uploaded to her story

replied to your story: @leahwilliamson

‘tell tiny lele appreciates the offer but me and

two wheels don’t really get on!’

alessia

liked by emilyfox and 618,012 others

alessia pre-season in the states 🇺🇸

comments

emilyfox back in the country where it all started, so proud of you less

-> alessia lots of love foxy! back where my life changed forever

user7 milf

bethmead our gooner is back, recharged and ready for the season!

-> alessia back like she never left!

leahwilliamson ❤️❤️❤️

user8 vic’s face in the 3rd photo🤣🤣🤣

31 august 2024

alessia

liked by leahwilliamson and 519,381 others

alessia back to it in september

comments

user9 is that leah in the last one?

bethmead still can’t believe that she’s started school, she’s just a baby

-> alessia trust me i’m still getting used to it, she’s growing up too fast🙁

ellatoone miss you sis and my favourite little russo❤️

‘liked by alessia’

user10 not tooney having a favourite russo🤣

29 september 2024

alessia

liked by ellatoone and 310,699 others

alessia october brought the cuteness

comments

leahwilliamson the cutest❤️

user11 you go girl!

maryearps oh my gosh, you actually put her in the silly outfit. my heart🥹

-> alessia of course got fashion advice from the one and only😉

user12 anyone else clocked leah and less act as if there more than friends..

stephcatley cutest little monster i’ve ever seen!

‘liked by alessia’

31 october 2024

alessia has uploaded to her story

alessia

liked by victoriapelova and 613,295 others

alessia december you were wholesome, filled with cold mornings and some much needed winter sun.

from me and lovie we wish you a merry christmas and a blessed 2025.

peace out 2024.

comments | limited to friends only

ellatoone bring on 2025

leahwilliamson can’t wait❤️

-> alessia me neither

giorgiorusso best time of year🫶🏼

victoriapelova i think tiny will see the real midnight this year!

-> alessia i think your right vic🙃

katiemccabe i hope our little gooner is fully recharged for the busy year ahead!

-> alessia i’ll make sure lovie is, mac

28 december 2024

💌a little message from me<3

happy new year guys! i hope this year is filled with love and joy for you all!

i hope you enjoyed this fun little insight bit like a behind the scenes if you will, bringing some of the fics i’ve done this year from the universe to life that little bit more. and from the bottom of my heart thank you so much for all the support and love you have given this little universe. i see all your comments and messages in my inbox and they make my day each and every single time. thank you for bringing a silly little fic i wrote as a one off and bringing it to life and into a whole universe.

let’s see what 2025 has in store for lovie🥂

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Standing a step behind you, watching you from afar, is already my biggest happiness.

Sorry for spamming I accidentally put the post in queue two times, this is the proofread and correct one the previous one is not :']

Price + Ghost*Reader

Price

Price doesn’t want to bind you to him. He’s nearly 40, plus the rank difference between you two, he’s a mature superior, no personal feelings should be involved in the workplace.

Not to say, he doesn’t sense even a tiny bit of romantic love from you, every time he tries to hide his affection towards you, he only sees respect for comrades in your eyes.

Even till the day you jump out and take a bullet for him as he gets knocked down accidentally, which ends up with the enemy dying, but you become lifeless in his arms, blood painting his palms and gear, he still believes you just view him as a teammate.

As he steps into your silent quarter and reads the words written in the journal, he slumps onto the bed, speechless as sorrow swallowing him that he needs to bite his lips until he tastes the bitter to stop him from crying.

“Personal feelings won’t be allowed, I can see Captain comply with this rule without exceptions.” “but it’s okay if it means I can stay beside him.” “It’s already a bliss that I can watch him from afar.”

He’s seasoned with gravel and pain, which ends up making a choice to free you from caging with him and hide his love, but unknown to him, you’re better at secreting yourself.

Ghost

He’s an expert at hiding and perceiving other’s feelings, not a single human —even his captain— is able to conceal the true thoughts running in their mind from him.

He knows he views you differently , not the family love like he owns for other 141 members, but the need to stay beside you forever, become old together if you both are pardoned from dying on the field at a young age.

The emotion plants a seed in his heart, sprouting as time flows, and when he realizes, the branches are already entangled with his heart.

Yet he chooses to lock those feelings inside the deepest part of him, he stares at you secretly with an amount of distance, always got your six and protects you, but never closer.

He’s afraid if standing too close to you, the sentiment will break through his mask and reveal it to you.

No one left behind, that’s his motto, yet he derogates it the moment he watches you shove the enemy badgering him off his body and over the railing, but he can’t catch your hands as he helplessly witnesses you tumble over inevitably.

You leave nothing, not even your body has been found, since the bomb exploded and perish you and the enemy together.

But when he flips through your journal in your room, he takes off his balaclava, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, as he discovers it does nothing to hide the truth from you.

“Something’s holding Ghost back, but I can wait, until he’s comfortable enough to take a step, even if it means years.” “I imagine we getting old together, but am I provided with such privilege?” “Maybe not, hence I’m already extremely satisfied to have a chance to watch him from afar.”

He assumes he’s excels at observing people, but what he’s unaware of is after he stares at you across the room and turns away eventually, your eyes land on him and never dart either.

a/n: thx for reading, have a nice day/night! :D

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Let's go!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Two days before Christmas. The store is left in tatters. Shelves strewn with sparse lefftovers and aisles hastily paced by those who left their shopping a bit too late. The frantic shoppers searching for a diamond among the sand grains of untouched product.

You work at arranging the remnants of the season’s beauty advent calendars on a table draped in a bright red cloth. There’s a large tag in a metal stand that marks them as ten percent off. On the other side of the holidays, they will drop to a full eighty percent off. You always believed giftcards were a better prize, not that you got many gifts.

That year, Luanne gave you a new journal and a specialty hot chocolate bomb in the department’s secret santa. You go Michelle and gifted her a copy of your favourite novel and some nail polishes. That is the extent of your shopping and gift exchanges. Except for your puppy, Ernie, who will get a bone and one of those special gourmet dog meals.

You finish your arrangement and step back, admiring your work. It’s close to close and so close to the end of the race that the shop isn’t as busy as usual. The only customers you do see are in a rush and horribly disappointed when that very specific thing isn’t in stock.

“Excuse me,” you’re drawn around the deep voice. A man strolls up the center aisle of the beauty section, the tails of his coat flicking behind him, “hi,” he uses your name as he approaches, “I’m so sorry to bother you again but can you point me to, erm,” he looks down at his phone, “a ring light?”

You hesitate. He seems to know you and you admit, he looks familiar. You’re at that point where the faces all blur together. Your one innate flaw is that you really don’t have a good memory for that, bt you definitely recognise his voice.

“Hello, sir,” you fall short of his name. You want to say Alan but you also don’t want to be wrong. “The ring lights are actually with the cellphone.” You gesture back at electronics, “I know it makes more sense to put them with cameras.”

“Ah, oh, thanks,” he nods but doesn’t move to find his quarry, he lowers his phone, “how’s your holiday going? Thing’s slowing down,” he looks around and you can’t help but do the same.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, most people are all done,” you shrug.

“Ha, wish I could say the same,” he sighs, “I thought we were done but the wife just sent me on a wild goose chase.”

“Hm, oh, well, I’m not very busy, did you need help finding anything else?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my manager’s done for the day so doesn’t really matter if I leave my zone,” you say, “kinda boring around here.”

“You’re too sweet,” he smiles, his blue eyes deep and swirling, “and that sweater is adorable.”

You look down at your dark blue sweater with the white crochet peter pan collar. You wiggle your shoulders and grin back at him, thanking him. You know he bought some perfume for his wife but you’re still blanking on his name.

“Here’s my list,” he tilts his phone towards you and looks down, shifting closer to you as he shows you a text bubble.

“Oh my, right. I’m not sure we’ll have everything,” you teethe your lip as you go through the items, “but we’ll see.”

A message pops up over the top and you try not to read, putting your head up as you try to act like you didn’t see it. It’s not that you meant to decipher the words but your brain quickly skimmed that ‘tomorrow night?’ Not much but just feels a bit personal.

“Alright, we’ll go to electronics first, then work our way forward,” you suggest.

“Good idea,” he agrees.

You set off and he follows at just a step. You have to remember to slow down as often you’re so determined you find yourself leaving your customers far behind you. You bring him to the mobile accessories and point to the ring lights.

He considers them and rubs his chin. He points between two; “what’s the difference?”

“Oh, this one comes with a tripod extension and this one is a full kit with a mic,” you point from one to the other.

“What do you think is better for, uh, streaming?” He sounds unsure of that last word.

“I think that kit would have more to it, especially if whoever it’s for is just starting out. But I’m don’t know too much about these things.”

“I’ll take the kit,” he scoops it off the shelf, “the kid can never have enough.”

“Oh? You have kids?”

“One,” he sounds less than excited, “teenager now so he really can’t stand me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” he forces away the shadow across his features, “you know how they can be. What about you? You going to see your parents? Spending the day with someone special?”

“Um, just Ernie,” you answer, “my puppy.”

“Cute,” he remarks, “are you guys open tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, yeah, ‘til five,” you try to remember the next thing on his list. 

He seems less concerned with the items than before, instead turn to examine a pop socket, “you have to work on Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, closing, but I don’t mind.”

“What’s this?” He holds up a pop socket.

“It goes on your phone,” you pull out your phone and show him your daisy one, “see?” You hook your fingers around it, “it’s a grip to help you hold on.”

“Ah, makes sense,” he turns the thin package over, “kid’s always breaking his screen…”

You wait patiently as he makes up the mind to add the grip to his haul.

“What’s next?” You prompt as gently as you can.

“Oh, uh,” he looks at his phone, “video games…” he squints, “V-bucks?”

“Ah, yes, that would be a gift card,” you say, “I can show you the rack.”

He lets you lead him to the large rack of subscription cards. You point out the various currency amounts available and he rubs his brow. His forehead lines as you see the stress needling in his cheek. He’s struck with the late shopper syndrome. He’s start to feel the crush of time.

“So, just your dog?” He wonders as he picks up a $75 card.

“Yeah,” you answer softly.

“No boyfriend? Siblings?”

“Just me,” you assure him, “I don’t mind. I get to choose the dessert!”

He chuckles, “that’s a good way to look at it. Did you buy yourself something special?”

“Not really, I’ve been saving for a vacation so I put most of my overtime into that,” you explain. “You having a big dinner?”

“Last minute change, wife’s parents want to host. Had to figure out travel plans.” He looks at the giftcards again and your eyes fall to the large back curled up in his arm and the card and phone grip balanced between his fingers. He slides free a Netflix card and reads the fine print.

“Do you want a basket, sir?” You offer.

“Oh, well, sure,” he accepts as he looks down, “that’s very considerate.”

“Don’t want you to drop anything,” you smile and turn on your heel.

You go to the stack of rolling baskets beside the electronics desk. Tyler doesn’t acknowledge you as he sorts through game shells to put back on the shelf. You pull the basket behind you, rattling on its wheels as you approach the shopper by the gift cards.

“Here,” you veer it around towards him.

He bends to lower the ringlight inside and drops the smaller items into next to it; he adds the Netflix subscription along with it and holds onto the Kindle card in his hand.

“You got any of these around?” He holds up the card, “the reader?”

“Hmm, we should,” you rub your neck, “I suppose if we didn’t, you can get a tablet and download the app.”

“I guess,” he nods, “can you check?”

“Of course, sir.”

You turn away and call over your headset. Regan tells you there’s a kindle up in return they can sell. You ask them to put it aside.

“There’s one left at checkout. They’re going to have it waiting for you,” you announce proudly.

“That’s great. You like to read?” He asks.

“Oh, sure, my one vice is my book addiction,” you giggle, “how about you?”

“Well, I don’t get much of a chance with work. I’m usually burnt out from all the legal documents,” he drones grimly, “then the kid has extracurriculars or there’s a PTA meeting or the wife needs something done.”

“Sounds busy,” you say empathetically, “I hope you get some time to relax this holiday.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “I almost envy you. I’m sure your dog’s good company.”

“He’s so sweet,” you can’t help but beam at the mention of your boy.

“Big cuddler?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah,” the question is a bit unexpected, “you like dogs?”

“Never really had one. Don’t need the extra work,” he says, “but I don’t mind them.”

“That’s fair. He can be a bit needy.”

He flinches and looks down at his hand. His screen flashes and he gives an apologetic look as he raises his palm, “I’m so sorry. I need to take this.”

“Take your time, sir, I’ll wander,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb.

He mouths a thanks before he answers, “Barber.”

You back up and turn to distract yourself with the shelf of controllers and switch cases. His deep voice carries but you focus on the Sinatra carol playing overhead to drown him out. Still you can’t help but catch a few words.

“Five, yeah…no, she won’t…it’s fine…” He’s quiet for a moment before he raises his voice, “figure it out.”

His stern tone sends a chill through you. It’s a sharp contrast to his previously friendly demeanour. Well, he mentioned he’s a lawyer, you assume he has a lawyer voice, akin to your customer service one.

“Sorry,” he comes back to you, “my wife…” he takes a breath, “you don’t happen to sell wine here?”

You smile. The way he answered, it didn’t sound very affectionate but maybe he hadn’t expected his wife.

“No, sorry, sir.”

“Kidding,” he chuckles, “well, I guess I should get my butt in gear,” he flicks through his phone, “um, I assume toiletries? Face masks?”

“Oh, that’s near me,” you point back towards beauty, “there’s a special for the sheet masks.”

“Great,” he grabs the extended handle of the basket, “thanks so much for this. I’m so lost.”

“That’s fine,” you go ahead of him, “it’s the job.”

🎀

You groan as you put the last empty bin in the stack. You stand and rub your shoulders, traps sore from all the lifting and moving. The night crew will set up for the day after Christmas but in the last hour of work, you and the few others in the store scrambled to get the old displays torn down.

Luanne walks with you to the employee break room. She’s in more of a hurry as she has her three children waiting for her at their grandparents. She goes ahead of you and punches out as you wait and stretch out your arms.

“Have a good Christmas,” she says breathily as she opens her locker and pulls out her purse and jacket, folding the latter over her arm, “I’ll see you after. You’re opening, right?”

“Sure thing,” you say as you punch in your employee number. “Merry Christmas.”

“Give Ernie some pets for me,” she trills as she goes to the door. “Thanks again. You saved my ass today.”

“No problem, “ you shake your head, “Christmas Eve brings out the best.”

“Does it ever. Bye, sweetie,” she waves over her shoulder as he sweeps through the door.

You go to your locket and take out your fluffy pink sherpa coat and purse. You loop your scarf around your neck and slip your earmuffs around your head. You sit to pull on your boots and stand with an ache in your calves. You feel the fatigue finally setting in. It’s not over yet; one day off and you’re right back to the furor.

You yawn as you leave the breakroom and drag your feet across the store. You take out your phone as you pop your earbuds in and choose your holiday mix. You wave goodbye to a few other stragglers and go out the front door, Spencer locking it behind you.

It’s bitterly cold out. You’re surprised by the fresh fall of snow swirling in the air. It gives an extra sparkle to the time of year.

You scroll through your phone. The buses are on holiday hours already. The next one is in an hour. Great. You can just walk, at least until you get to the next stop. More buses stop there and you can get at least ten minutes within your building.

You trod along, kicking through the powder of snow as headlights gleam ahead of you. You walk along the narrow walk beside the hotel on the other side of the intersection and a pair of flashing tail lights blink ahead of you. A dark figure stands beside the white SUV but you can’t make out much more than their silhouette.

You keep going, peeking up curiously as you near. The boot of the car pops up and the stranded driver searches. As you pass, you trip over an unseen shape, the metal clank painfully against your toe. You look down at the small foot jack.

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” the man stands straight and turns to you, “I didn’t see you coming. I was just grabbing the iron–”

“That’s okay,” you pick out your earbuds, “I wasn’t looking.”

“Wait,” he stops short and points a gloved finger in your direction, “it’s you. You work at the store just down the way, right?”

You know the man. He’s the one who was in the store just yesterday. There’s a flutter in your chest at the coincidence of your encounter. It happens, especially in the shopping district. Half the city at least passes through her during the holidays.

“Yeah, uh, that’s me. You finish your shopping?”

“Just about,” he tuts and shakes his head, “blew a tire. So, happy holidays to me.”

“I’m so sorry,” you look down at the snowy walk.

“Mhmm,” he grumbles, “all this snow, I can’t get the jack to work either.”

“Dang, unfortunately, I’m not help. I don’t know much about cars.”

“That’s fine, I called roadside assistance but they’re taking their damn time,” he checks his watch.

“Oh…” you utter.

“Don’t let me rain on your holiday, honey,” he says, “your toe okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” you look down.

“Wait, are you walking home?” He asks.

You nod.

“Wish I could offer you a ride. This weather’s only getting worse,” he bemoans. He slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out his phone, “they should be here shortly so if–”

A set of headlights pull onto the apron and roll towards you. You look over as the man beside you does the same. You stand, somewhat dumbfounded at the unexpected run-in. 

“That’s them,” he declares, “hey, guys.”

He waves as the white van pulls up. You were expecting a tow truck. Oh, well. Not your problem.

“Great, I guess I should get going,” you excuse yourself, “have a happy holi–”

As you step back, your heel catches on something. You don’t realise until your plummeting onto your ass that the man stuck his leg out behind you. You hit the ground with an oomph, barely missing the metal jack half-buried in the snow.

You hear the van door sliding open and a clatter of heavy treads. You can barely catch your breath as the world moves fast around you. The man bends over you as another rushes over, grabbing you off the ground as the two vehicles block out the street from view.

“Be nice,” the first man warns as your arms are seized. “Don’t hurt her.”

You suck in a deep breath. What is happening? You go to let out the shriek as you’re struck by the situation. This can’t be real but you’re being half-carried towards an open vehicle. A hand comes up and stifles your scream, smothering you as you’re yanked harshly forward.

“Careful,” the man girds again.

“Shut the fuck up,” the other grits and pulls you away from the other, spinning you around as he hooks an arm around your neck and covers your mouth, forcing you towards the van. He bends backwards, lifting your feet as you kick and squirm.

“Honey, calm down,” the friendly customer coaxes, “it’s okay.”

You don’t understand. Why are they doing this? Why you?

The man’s hand slips as you grab at his arms and your teeth come over the vee between thumb and index. You bite down and he yowls. Even through his leather glove, you give him a viscous pinch.

“Fuck!” He tosses you forward so your knees hit the side of the van and fall half-inside.

“Hurry the fuck up,” another voice calls from inside the van.

“Trying,” the second man snarls as you stand and let out a shrill note, only for a second before you’re caught from behind and muted again. This time the leather glove seals over your nose. “Fucking bitch.” 

You’re lifted into the van, writhing and kicking as the door slides shut from the outside. You’re pinned on the floor in the seatless rear of the vehicle. You whimper as your eyes glisten with a sudden spring of tears. 

That question rings in your head again; why you? You have no one to look for you, no one to care. It’s only you against them.

[megamhafan]

(tw: mentions of csa, abduction, drug usage and domestic abuse) if you were to take away the monsters and fantastical elements in will Byers’s story, you’d straight up get a child struggling with the effects of csa along with it being allueded to that it has happened before. go read the theory made by @greenfiend for extended information https://www.tumblr.com/greenfiend/769426126766522368/lonnie-byers

season 1 part 1

we don’t see much of will in the first season but we do learn some things about him.

in s1 episode 1, we learn from joyce that the town has been insinuating/ suspecting that will might be gay.

we also get from Joyce and hopper’s conversation in the police department that will’s father lonnie, used to call him slurs. (keep a note of that)

in s1 ep 2, we actually see lonnie byers for the first time and we get information about him without it being verbalized when jonathan goes to his house to look for will.

he’s definitely an a abusive father as seen when Jonathan goes into his house and checks the cupboards ( for will)

we see lonnie push Jonathan, and then remark “you’ve gotten stronger” which seals the deal.

(if the bike isn’t evidence for the lonnie kidnapping theory, then. i don’t know what is)

eventually when jonathan is about to leave, he gives lonnie the missing poster of will. and makes a comment

“incase you forgot what he looks like”

and lonnie’s weird girlfriend, cynthia walks out and says this weird line…

“he’s kinda cute, maybe i should trade you in for the younger model” (talking about jonathan)

she also could be talking about will, considering she did glance at the missing paper beforehand.

but i want to click those two stated lines together.

as we can see, lonnie’s girlfriend is very much a young woman in her 20s, while lonnie is a man in his late 40s approaching his 50s. so it is very weird for him to be involved with her.

lonnie has always be interested in people who are barely adults/ still teenagers.

lonnie was 25 when he started dating a then 17 year old joyce.

in child predators, they don’t repeat the actions of going for younger and younger people because they actually are attracted. they do it because it’s taking advantage of someone younger, someone who might not know better.

if we’re going based off the theory that lonnie abused his sons that way, then the pattern of preying on younger and younger people clicks in with the “incase you forgot him” line.

lonnie abused jonathan first, then when will came along, he abused both. and when jonathan reached puberty, lonnie left him alone.

(note: people who prey after children, specifically boys sometimes stop when they reach puberty as they begin to have bodies that don’t resemble girls anymore)

he continued with will, and never stopped. only seeing will as a smaller and younger jonathan, and thus “forgetting what he looks like”

because his sons blended into one person in his head.

in s1 ep3, troy and james walk up to the boys and start joking about will being dead. troy even says that “he was probably killed by some other queer”

he also adds a little bit of context to where he heard that. “at least that’s what my dad says”

troy says that his father told him that. and if you look at the home lives of troy and will, they’re very similar.

abusive dad

worried mom

not too well off financially

now we know that the duffers like to drop hints and clues about characters in the background and also about the lives of certain characters so that i can’t take away from the main story.

so what if troy is being used as a mouth peice essentially to explain why the town came to the conclusion that will is gay.

if you move around the things he says, you get…

“he was probably killed by a queer”

“at least that’s what dad says”

lonnie was the one who started the rumor in town, he’s the one who eventually started saying a queer person killed will.

s1 ep4 & ep5 will’s “body” is found in the quarry and hopper has to tell joyce that they found him.

this is also when lonnie shows up, he plans to sleep on the couch for a few days and attend the funeral.

he does something that always confuses me.

when he is arguing with jonathan in his room, he tells him to take his evil dead poster down because it’s inappropriate.

i assume he means that because the house is grieving, they shouldn’t have anything up on the walls.

but i think it’s more than that.

as stated by other theorists, lonnie’s name means oak tree, and the woman in the poster is being grabbed by a oak tree.

i’ve always seen that it was supposed to represent what lonnie did to Jonathan.

but with all this moment from episode 2 in particular…

it has me thinking that lonnie wants it down because it brings to light what he did to his son, how he took him and what he’s been doing to him for years. specifically it’s Jonathan making it visible what his father did to will.

and now that will is “gone”, lonnie wants it hidden forever. buried with his child.

which makes the moment where Joyce finds the check for the money that lonnie wants to take out because of will’s “death”, even more compelling.

it’s joyce not just confronting what her ex husband is doing via taking money out to pay his debts, essentially using their dead son for money.

it’s her confronting that lonnie has been using his son for things that you don’t use a child for.

she kicks him out, making sure that he doesn’t come back to harm her or her children again.

while all of this is going on, mike and the rest of the boys are at school attending will’s memorial service, when they hear troy and James talking about will.

after this, mike confronts them angrily, because it’s a messed up thing to do.

troy then says these lines

“what’s there to be sad about anyways?”

“he’s flying around with all the other little faries, all happy and gay”

this moment would then cause mike to snap and push troy.

also to note that mike was absolutley ready to fight troy, if it meant protecting the image of his friend.

when troy gets up ready to go and attack mike, he looks like he's going to punch him, but is stopped when el secretly squeezes his bladder with her mind, causing him to pee himself.

(note: troy’s face is of uncomfortableness, rather than embarrassment)

when we get to part 2, we’re going to talk about this first, along with a intermission

[sinofwriting]

Causing Problems - Max Verstappen

Words: 2,365 Summary: After learning about his girlfriends first time, it’s safe to say that Max is not happy. Note(s)/Warnings: Leclerc!Reader, Talks of Sex/Losing Virginity. Mentions/Talks of Underage Sex. Past Pierre/Reader. Also there is french here, didn’t use google translate, but still used a translator, so sorry if any of it’s wrong.

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“Don’t judge me.” His brows raise and he can’t help but smile. “What could I ever judge?” She shoots him a disbelieving look, but sighs. “I was fourteen.” His eyes widened. “See judge!” He shakes his head, “no, no. No judgment, just,” he pauses unsure how to phrase it. “Lorenzo and Charles let you have a boyfriend at fourteen?” She snorts, ten years had passed and the two and now Arthur wrinkled their nose at the idea of her with a boy. They were somewhat fond of her and Max together. “No, I,” she pauses, feeling herself get a little flustered as she thinks about who and how she lost her virginity.

“It was a friend.” Her voice is a little fond, but she squeezes Max’s hand letting him know it’s not the person she’s fond of but rather just the memory. Her eyes flicker upwards to meet the Dutch’s eyes. Seeing how warm they are and his earnest nod to continue, she does.

“We were in France for a race.” She squeezes his hand again, “you won that one.” She tells him, smiling at his eyes crinkling at her pause. “We decided to stay with his family for the night instead of at the racetrack or just driving home. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go down to the basement, hoping to wear myself out by uh,” she pauses trying to think of the word in English. “Pacing?” He offers, having seen her do it a few times. She nods, smiling wide. “Yes, pacing. But when I got there, he was also there unable to sleep. We talked for a bit and then things got a bit tense and we ended up having sex.” She shrugs, with a little laugh. “It was a little odd since we both hadn’t done it before. But it was good.” “Did you orgasm?” He can’t help but ask. “Surprisingly, yes.” A flare of jealousy hits him at the knowledge that some fourteen year old kid got a girl off his first time having sex, while he didn’t when he was eighteen. But it leaves just as quickly as it came, shock replacing it with her next words. “But after all the French are known for being generous lovers and Pierre is quite French, no?” She laughs. “Pierre?” He asks, brain struggling to comprehend what she said. “Yes, Pierre.”

The confirmation makes him a blink and god he can’t believe the balls on the French driver. Charles was insanely overprotective. Then again, if Charles had any idea what his best friend and little sister had done he wouldn’t be alive but at the bottom of the river.

Then a thought strikes him, Pierre and her weren’t not the same age. A fourteen year old virgin didn’t make her cum but rather a seventeen year old one and suddenly anger is boiling in his stomach.

“He was seventeen.” His voice is surprisingly blank. “Yes, Pierre is three years older than me.” She looks at him, worryingly. “Max, are you okay?”

—

“Gasly!” The frenchman’s head jerks to the left at the sound of his last name in such anger. He stares wide eyed at the dutch driver. His jaw was twitching, face red, and fists clenched. He had only seen Max this angry a couple of times before but never was it directed at him. “Max.” He ends up saying, eyes flickering around the room. Hoping that Charles, Daniel, Lando, Alex, or George know what’s going on, but they all look just as confused. His eyes catch on Y/N, who's looking at Max with wide eyes of her own. “Fourteen.” The word is gritted out and Pierre’s eyes are back on him, more confusion filling him. “What?”

He couldn’t think of anything that would make Max this mad involving the number fourteen. Lap fourteen had been fine this race. They hadn’t yet gotten to race fourteen of the season. It couldn’t be the year 2014, they didn’t have any contact that year.

“Fourteen.” Max repeats, putting a weird emphasis on the word as it comes out quieter than before. Pierre’s eyes flicker to the only girl in the room, hoping she’ll know what it’s about and when his eyes move to look at her it hits him and his eyes are moving back to Max. Understanding him. “Oh, fourteen.” “Yes,” the Dutch driver’s jaw twitches again. “Fourteen.”

He can’t help but glance around the room taking in how the other guys are still looking at Max and now him in confusion. He notes that Charles has gotten up, clearly ready to interfere. Get in between them if it comes down to it. And Pierre winces. There would be no getting out of this. He’d have to come clean and perhaps lose Charles’ friendship forever.

“Would you like to hit me and then talk? Or talk and then hit me?” He offers Max, figuring that no matter what he’d end the night with some bruises. Suddenly she’s standing in between them, gently resting a hand on Max’s chest. “There won’t be any hitting. Words only.” She tells Max, her eyes flickering to her brother as she says it. His expression of confusion only deepened at the words also directed towards him as he sat back down.

She pushes Max to sit down on the floor next to Daniel and a space between him and Charles where she would sit in a moment. She turns to face Pierre.

“Je suis désolé, pierre.” I’m so sorry, Pierre. She apologizes, twisting her fingers together in a way that makes him wince. He shakes his head, standing and maybe he shouldn’t but he pulls her into a hug. Keeping his hands clearly in Max’s sight. There was no need to make him any madder. “Non, bébé calmar. Tu ne t'excuses pas. C'est bien.” No, baby squid. You don't apologize. It's fine. He pulls away from her, giving her hand a squeeze before taking a step back. “C'est à vous de partager.” It is for you to share. “Ce n'est pas seulement le mien.” It is not just mine. He shakes his head, had he hoped that Charles would never know, yes. But he had always known that one day he’d find out. He could only be happy that he got a decade more of his friendship. “C'était toujours le tien.” It was always yours. She looks like she is going to argue more and he expects her to. It was such a Leclerc thing to do, argue until you got your way. But she doesn’t. She gives him another sorry look before sitting in between Max and Charles. Ignoring the soft nudge that her brother gives her.

“Max,” Pierre starts to say, but stops not sure what to say, what to do. Did the younger driver want an apology? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t something he could apologize to Max for. The only person he really could offer an apology to was Charles and that was only for not telling him sooner.

Pierre and Y/N had spoken about it after it happened. It wasn’t something they could really ignore or pretend didn’t happen. They had even spoken about it a little over a year ago when Kika had found out. Kika made a joke about it as they all went for dinner, a little wine drunk, but hoping to see Pierre get a little flustered. He nearly smiles at the thought of Kika. She really was amazing, far better than he deserved, and her easy acceptance of what happened between them when they were so young.

“Fourteen, Pierre. She was fourteen.” Max’s voice draws him out of his thoughts. “Yes, and I was seventeen.” His acknowledgement makes Max wince and he catches Alex’s wide eyes and knows that he’s realized what this about or at least has a good idea of it. “And you just,” Max starts, before shaking his head. “That was fine with you?” “I wouldn’t do it again, if that’s what you are asking.” Pierre sighs when Max’s expression doesn’t change. “Max, your issue with this is the age difference. And I imagine it’s worse because of Kika, yes?” Max nods. He presses his lips together, murmuring to himself in french under his breath. “I never intended for it to happen, Max. We were kids. Me less so, but still young, foolish.”

“What happened?” Charles speaks for the first time, looking between Pierre and Max. “What happened when you were seventeen?” Pierre sighs, but before he can speak, she does. “Charles, do you remember when you were fifteen, we went to that race in France and we stayed with Pierre’s family for the night?” He nods after a second. “Yes, Papa didn’t want to stay at the track or drive home that night.” “I couldn’t sleep that night, so I went down to the basement so I could pace.” “You still do that.” Charles interrupts her, the words fond. “Yes. But Pierre was also there, he couldn’t sleep either. We ended up talking.” Charles nods, because yes that made sense. She didn’t like pacing if someone else was in the room and awake. Would rather talk until she fell asleep. “Pierre and I,” she pauses before slipping into french. “nous avons fait l'amour.” we had sex. “Non.” No. His mouth is open, disbelief in his eyes. “Non. Vous deux ne l'avez pas fait.” No. You two did not. “Charles,” she lays a hand on his arm. “We did. It was in the moment and never happened again.” “But you were so young. Just a baby.” His face is horrified and everyone in the room knows now what Max bursting in was about. Her brows furrow. “I was not a baby. I was fourteen.” Charles makes a pained noise and then his attention turns to Pierre, a fire in his eyes.

“You!” He points at Pierre. “How could you! She’s my sister. My baby sister!” He puts his hands up. “We didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I went down to the basement to watch tv because I couldn’t sleep. Not to have sex for the first time with your sister.” His fists clench, wanting to say something more, but unable to say anything but, “Je suis désolé, Charles. J'aurais dû,” I'm sorry, Charles. I should have, “Non.” Charles shakes his head, stopping him. “I don’t want to hear it. You should have told me sooner. Not wait so long. I need time. She was a baby, Pierre.” He says the last sentence quietly and Pierre knows that his insistence makes no sense to her or the rest of the people in the room, but he understands.

He had been the one to hold Charles after his father made him promise to always take care of her, to watch over her, to protect her. Had cemented that she was his baby sister, she needed protection, to Charles. Had promised to help Charles with that promise.

“I need time, Calamar.” His voice is gentle, but there's a raw element to it. “Of course, Charles.” As he stands to look around the room, he has to look away at the different looks some of the drivers give him. Moving out of the weird sort of circle the driver’s had formed when they first entered Charles’ room hours ago, he stops just before the entryway.

“Y/N if,” “I know, Pierre.” She stops him before he can continue, already knowing what he’s going to say. “Give Kika my love.” He huffs out a laugh. “Of course.” And with that he slips out of the room.

—

“Are you better, Max?” She asks, when nearly an hour later they are back in his hotel room, a glass of wine in her hand. He winces, “I’m sorry. My anger got the better of me.” She nods, lips pressing together. A little embarrassment still lingering inside of her. It wasn’t Lando, Daniel, Alex, or George knowing. It was Charles. It was her older brother, her closest brother. She had never wanted Charles to know that much about her and Pierre. She knew just like Pierre even if they had hoped it wouldn’t come out, that it would. She had just figured it would come out that yes, they had sex together. It was one time, maybe that they were each other's firsts but that was it.

She didn’t want him to know that it was in France. After a race, in Pierre’s home. She especially didn’t want him to know that she had been fourteen. It made her shrink a little, knowing that he knew that. And yet she didn’t hate Max for letting that loose. She was a little angry with him, but it was her own fault. She should have never been so careless to let it slip that it was Pierre when he was close by. Should have waited for summer break, when they were in completely different countries.

“I’m angry with you.” She was not going to hide that. “I didn’t want Charles to know that. All of that. Pierre and I figured that at some point it would come out, but he was not supposed to know all of that.” “I’m sorry.” He apologizes again. “I,” he pauses. “My temper, it needs to be worked on.” She nods again, “You are better than before. You’ve grown much since.” She sighs, placing the glass down and turning to look at him. “I should have waited until summer break.” He shakes his head, “no, this was all me. And I’ll apologize to Pierre as well.” He looks a little pained at the thought. “Good. He deserves one.” “Yes, he does.”

She looks at him, taking in the regretful expression on his face. The way his body is slightly curled in. Grabbing her glass of wine, she tosses the rest of the glass back, before setting it back down and taking her shirt off.

“I’m going to take a shower.” She tells him, thumbs pressing between her skin and her pants as she starts to take them off. “You’re going to join me.” “I am?” She raises an eyebrow. “I am.” Max nods, eyes wide as he watches her completely strip. “Good. Hurry. It’ll be cold without you.” She tells him, before walking to the bathroom, the door slightly closed behind her as the sound of the shower fills the room.

---

Tagging: @lpab @gemofthenight @peachiicherries

[candyheartedchy]

A deep analysis on SpongeBob and his struggle with fitting in because I think about this detail of the little sponge more than I should.

Let first start off with this little snippet from the pitch bible.

“He wants to fit in, but like a square peg in a round hole, he can’t.”

The rest in under the cut because this ended up being a bit long.

Throughout the series, especially in the earlier seasons, SpongeBob is always going out of his way to make himself appear either “cool” or “mature”. Heck the whole premise of the first movie is focused on his desire to prove himself that he’s not a “kid”. In both the episodes “Ripped Pants” and “MuscleBob BuffPants” he desperately tries to fit in. So much so that the attention he gets from ripping his pants and wearing the Anchor Arms quickly gets to his head, going to the point where he pretends to drown just to make folks laugh. And in both episodes, he starts to slip, realizing that he can’t keep these acts up for too long. Worried of losing his audience.

But he’s determined. He wants people to like him, and with Sandy just recently befriending him around the timeline of these two episodes, he wants to look cool to her. With Patrick being his friend since childhood, and mostly likely the only friend he had befriended before Sandy showed up, he didn’t want to take any chances to miss the opportunity to make another friend. Ironically Larry is in both episodes as well, who SpongeBob becomes jealous of due to the lobster’s own popularity and just being everything he isn’t. Same with the “Spongeguard on Duty” episode where he gets mistaken for a lifeguard by Larry and goes along with the act because it gives him attention.

Another incident that relates to SpongeBob’s struggle with his self image is the “Blackened Sponge” episode. It starts off of him having a dream where he’s rescuing someone, dreaming of being seen as this big, buff hero. After waking up from the dream, he accidentally gives himself a black eye and vows not to tell anyone how it happened to avoid being made fun of. He then goes on, almost bragging about the injury to a crowd, about his fake fight just so he can appear cool. But once Squidward comments about not caring about this, SpongeBob gets PISSED.

Self image is EXTREMELY important to him. He will do anything to avoid being ridiculed by others. He will not allow himself to be laughed at. No matter what.

Many times it shows that SpongeBob doesn’t handle public ridicule very well. Most of the time he seems either oblivious when folks (mostly Squidward) are insulting him or he just waves it off by misinterpreting it as something else. As of he’s pretending he doesn’t notice to avoid being reminded at how he’s really seen by people.

Countless times in the series, he’s shown to have a perfectionist attitude about how he does things. He has to do everything correctly or else.

Even with his own cousin, he gets frustrated from taking all the blame for Stanley’s mistakes to the point he ends up snapping.

This also is what causes him to fight with Patrick a lot. Because of SpongeBob’s obsession with being perfect, he clashes with his best friend’s laidback attitude on life. And yet there’ a kinship between the pair. He knows that Patrick can be affected by people comments just as much as he does, because they are both outcasts.

Which comes to SpongeBob’s struggle with loneliness.

In the episode “Gone”, we see SpongeBob waking up one day to find himself all alone in Bikini Bottom. He starts taking on the forms of his friends to live out all their lives while also getting attached to a boat for company. I believe he was experiencing his worst fear here. Being abandon. Which he already experienced this twice with his own pet snail, Gary, heartbrokenly trying to find him or watch as his snail grew attached to Patrick for a bit in another episode. He’s scared of being replaced or left alone.

This replacement issue comes up multiple times that tends to connects to what he’s good at. His job. The whole thing that kickstarts the first movie is the fact that Squidward gets the manager job. He also becomes so distraught when the original fry cook, Jim, shows up, causing SpongeBob to think he’s was getting replaced. He hates the idea of someone being better than him. Not out of pride, but out of fear. Especially at things he’s good at. Because if he’s not the best, what is he good for then?

He hates being seen as a joke. Constantly correcting folks whenever they try to belittle him.

He’s known as being optimistically annoying by folks, but that’s because he has to. It’s his way of coping. Even the first movie shows him crying and even getting “drunk” to distract himself from the reality that he will always be seen as a joke. He wants people to like him so BADLY because he knows he’s different. He knows that even when he’s genuinely being himself, others will criticize and judge him no matter what.

He wants to fit in, but deep down he knows he can’t.

[itsabouttimex2]

Stuffie Reactions Two:

Tang, Macaque, Red Son

(Part One: Sun Wukong, MK, Azure Lion)

(Ok, all yandere stuff aside? This man has plushies. No way he doesn’t have a finished Journey to The West set. I refuse to believe otherwise.)

As with most of your quirks or interests, Mr. Tang maintains a consistently supportive attitude. He’s not always the best role-model, what with being both somewhat lazy and a little bit of a mooch… but he’s got a good heart.

Even with a plague of obsession to cloud his mind and heart, Tang is still rather rational. He understands the sentimental value your plush has to you, and also knows very well that he’d massively be on your bad side for interfering with it. So there’s no threats of destruction, no forced removal-

Unless you’ve done something that seriously “warrants” one of his very rare punishments. Things like: putting yourself in serious danger, underage drinking, any type of drug use, starting fights, etc.

(He shares most of these rules with Pigsy, though the demon is quite a bit more strict.)

He’s more of a “lock it away in a cupboard for a few days” guy than anything, and gives it back after he’s worn you down into writing a full-length essay about what you did wrong how you’ll do better next time.

Could be worse, frankly.

Alright, let’s get this out of the way- Macaque is a pretty awful person. He’s often cruel for the sake of being cruel. He enjoys hurting people and brags about doing it. We also see that he’s not exactly sentimental about the past- not like Wukong is, not how MK misses the simplicity of his early adventures. I can’t imagine he’d care much about one little toy, especially if it’s particularly worn out or well-loved.

Our Six-Eared Simian is pretty high on the list of character who would outright destroy your plush. (Alongside Demon Bull King, Red Son, Huntsman, Spider Queen, and Lady Bone Demon.)

But usually; aside from mild teasing, he pays it no mind. He’s on the move with you frequently, and at least ensures that the little thing never gets left behind. Hell, when he’s (very, very rarely) feeling soft? Macaque might come around while you’re asleep and tuck the plush into your arms.

So, what could prompt him to destroy your toy? Here’s a few- running away, calling him out for his crimes, helping Wukong or MK, trying to fight him, repeated refusal to obey his orders, frequently “hard” swearing at him, substance use, etc.

(Interestingly, he won’t tear it all at once- swearing at him causes him to puncture a small hole in the fabric, running away causes him to tear off a limb… after, why throw away a useful tool of punishment when he can stretch it out for all it’s worth?)

Lots of landmines to avoid, basically.

Out of all characters, Red Son may well be the one who cares the least- he doesn’t see much value in any of your possessions, except those that he himself gifted to you.

Other characters like the Mayor or Azure might understand the plush’s importance, but choose to use it as a tool of punishment. Someone like Syntax (or Mei, but we’ll get there) would modify it to accommodate a camera. The Spider Queen would probably destroy it to sever connections to your past life- and then tsk and half-heartedly try to patch it up with her silk when she sees how distraught you are.

Some like Sandy would spoil you with plushes and stitch up any rips by hand. Iron Fan might use it to belittle you when she sees fit to lay down some “discipline”, hoping to make you feel insecure and childish.

But Red Son? He simply… doesn’t care.

It’s a possession. An item like any other. No dearer to one than a shirt or chair should be. (Unless he/his parents gave it to you. Then, and only then, will Red Son muster some genuine sympathy and understanding for how precious the object is to you.)

I’ve spoken about this several time, but I’ll say it again here- in most cases, Red Son starts off viewing Y/N as a pet. As the seasons progress they move upwards in Red’s personal hierarchy, from worthless peasant to funny pet to dear friend to cherished family.

So not only does Red not really respect your possessions- but he doesn’t really respect you, either. You’re a silly little human, meandering and small.

So, if you do ever act up, or try to escape…

He really doesn’t see in harm in torching the thing to ashes.

Nor will he understand why you’re crying.

But at least you’ve learned your lesson.

[starrieisdelusional]

arthur and merlin conversation in my fix it au when the magic reveal in s3 happened:

(arthur and merlin are standing in the throne room, just the two of them with tense silence, right after uther’s death)

arthur: well aren’t you full of surprises merlin: what can i say…i never ceased to entertain you…

Merlin is nervous, hoping to whatever entity out there that arthur forgiven him. But it seems unlikely, not after he killed his father. arthur: …am i a lie too then? merlin: what? arthur: is this- are we- you think it’s funny isn’t it? merlin: i’m sorry? arthur: (scoffs) stop acting like an idiot merlin i know you’re aren’t one…do you really think that i would believe that you are just some dumb fool?! I know you don’t go to the tavern merlin!! merlin: what??? But-

(Pulls merlin’s collar and shoves him against the wall)

merlin: arthur- arthur: HOW COULD YOU?! Do you think this is a game to you? i trusted you… merlin: and i-i’m sorry, i really am- arthur: AND WHAT? THAT GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO LIE TO ME?! (screaming) I HAVE ALWAYS OPENED MY HEART TO YOU, DO YOU NOT TRUST ME ENOUGH TO DO THE SAME?! WHAT AM I TO YOU?!

merlin: arthur … arthur…please, please,listen to me … please arthur …please… i’m sorry… (arthur tightens his grip, inching closer to him until merlin is only a breath away) arthur: i want you to leave merlin: what? arthur: leave, far away from camelot, you are no longer welcomed here

(he lets him go, merlin recognized that arthur is using his political tone. The one he uses when dealing with diplomatic matters and turns away from him. Merlin feels like death is better than whatever this is)

merlin: no…what? No arthur- please- (merlin tries to grab arthur’s hand but arthur bats him away) arthur: do not touch me sorcerer.

(Merlin falls at his knees, kneeling at arthur’s mercy)

merlin: please…my lord, please don’t cast me away…please sire, you’re the only one i live for, please your highness, don’t cast me away, please i can’t live without you…i’ll do anything…please- please-

(arthur fall to his level, putting his hand on merlin’s head. It travels down to rest on merlin’s face, guiding him to look at him)

arthur: i, king arthur of camelot, hereby declare your banishment, merlin of ealdor, son of hunnith. If i see you on camelot’s ground after the rise of the sun, i will strike you where you stand

arthur left the room, turning a blind eye to merlin’s cries. Season 3 ends on Merlin’s crestfallen expression.

Update 25.09.2024 : i just realized how cringe this convo is, i changed it a bit I HOPE ITS BETTER 😭😭

main post:

To find my other ramblings about this AU, filter with the hashtag #must we really rely on fate?

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Krill's Story - Prologue

So, because that first chapter became so damn long, I cut down the bit that was most separated from the rest! Please enjoy Krill's thoughts before we change over to a new perspective again (;

Fandom: Original Content   Warnings: Violence (Mentioning of ripping a throat out/backstabbing, Depiction of mental (childhood) abuse), Monsters (Mermaids), Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Mention of death

"I can't believe this! It's outrageous—TWO sons gone! How could this happen, Krill?! You were supposed to guide them—to lead them! I told you to take care of them, and you couldn't even look after your brother and cousin! How will you ever care for your own pack?!"

My mother's rage echoed through the communal space; her questions screeched in the voice of a siren, causing them to hurt in my ears. Her words were spoken in the same way as a shark's teeth would rip through my skin—meant to harm and dominate. They left everyone in the cave silent except for my aunt, who kept weeping beside the matriarch. Had it been mating season, Nerrocan's and Lyr's disappearance could have been easily brushed off, but with how little interest both of them ever had in reproducing and it having been weeks without a sign from them, their disappearance really began to weigh on everyone. 

The other orcas witnessing my scolding were growing restless at my silence; the inability to respond quickly to the accusations thrown at me only confirmed their constant suspicions—I was incapable of the role they expected from me. The prospect of the next leader of the pack being incapable of doing the one thing I was forced to do my whole life made them lose faith not only in me but also the current matriarch who birthed me. They were whispering and discussing with each other on the quiet as if I had committed a grave sin that would make me unfit to lead. Even though they were fully aware that my reign would come to a quick end once I took a female as my partner to step up to the role of matriarch. All this talking, all the anger and frustration taken out on me, was just a show of power in the end. It didn't matter in the long run, neither to the pack's future nor to me. 

I should have been angry at Lyr and Nerrocan for putting me in this situation. For leaving me alone with all the burdens, they escaped so easily, never coming back to take me with them. I thought we were closer than that. That we'd stick together forever. But the chance of getting away must have been too freeing to resist, no matter what they had to leave behind to achieve it. If the same chance had arisen before me… I might have done the same. Leave behind this life of never being enough in the strict eyes of our mothers and the whole pack and start over far away. Do something worthwhile that wouldn't end with me cowering before the matriarch yet again, like the coward I was. A pack wasn't a place where you could achieve anything extraordinary unless you bowed your head and submitted to the nagging and pushing of expectations. And I, compared to the other two, had always been too afraid to take the leap, holding the two of them back with me so I wouldn't be alone. Until they slipped my grasp—a stupid, stupid mistake.

Just like my mother, those feelings nagged at me constantly. Permanently. Most likely until the end of my life. And there was no one to share them with anymore, as those exhaustingly painful emotions threatened to drown me.

"You'll find them and bring them back here immediately!" the matriarch finally ordered, too impatient to wait for my delayed response. With how I was taught my whole life, I understood her actions. She had to settle the pack, give them hope, and show them she had everything under control. She had to make this look like a stupid mistake of a child—even her own son—so she'd not lose the pack's trust in her capabilities. Especially with her worst opponent, her own sister, ready to take over the position at any moment. Even when family was everything to the pack, no one was safe from having their throat ripped out the moment they lowered their guard. There was no loyalty in a pack of fools.

"Oh, yes!" my aunt wept, her act so good despite having enough daughters to not need Nerrocan here to be called a worthy successor to my mother's reign. "Please, Krill! You have to bring my baby back home! Please!"

It must have been so much easier to leave, knowing you never left anything behind, really. Nerrocan didn't have to worry much about what others thought about him. He could hide behind his sisters and be a good boy just for fun. Perhaps things would have been different if I had sisters who were older or my age, too. I could have escaped the responsibilities and lived a free and happy life without repercussions for every little mistake I made in the matriarch's eyes.

"I will, Mother."

Raising my head and showing the pack a steadfast expression, I placed my hand over my heart, the gesture as shallow as it was a lie. I had no idea where the two rascals had gone, much less how I'd manage to track them down. There was no telling that I could find them, but maybe by the time I'd be too exhausted from the search, I'd have developed the courage to stay far, far away from the pack. 

Judging by the glare in the matriarch's eyes, there would be no home to return to unless I brought back the missing sons anyway. 

In her angry gaze, I noticed some doubt. For a moment, I imagined her worried that something could happen to me on this quest she sent me on. But when our eyes met, she must have known that my promise and gestures were all just for show. It hardened her feelings for me, which was for the better. We both knew I would never reach her expectations, no matter how long and hard I tried. Losing two young, efficient hunters for the pack was just the tip of the iceberg. It was better for her not to get disappointed when I'd inevitably fail the task she had given me, again. 

So when I slipped back into the water, my mother sent me off with a scoff, the whispers around me so loud, I couldn't hear my own thoughts. The cold wet was a welcome change of sounds, clearing my head for the first time since I entered that communal space. I'd become numb to the feeling of being unloved and unappreciated, so much so that it didn't face me what everyone thought of me. That's what I told myself. All I had to do was function, which was easier with a clear head. I thought back to the days before Nerrocan's disappearance, the funny human we rescued, and the way Nerrocan used to look at them. 

I wasn't stupid, even if I preferred to keep pushing away the nagging feelings that might have made me soft and even more worthless in the eyes of my mother. The two were too young to know the true horror of "love". But I was the oldest. I remembered looking at this special someone the same way that Nerrocan did with the human. I collected the shiniest stones in that small pool they held us in at that facility that Nerrocan's human wanted to go to so desperately, just so I could present these trophies to my mate. Just like Lyr now, who ransacked our treasure cave in just one night. 

Judging by how much Lyr could steal in that one night, he probably wasn't as far away as we thought. But the ocean was vast, he was a quick swimmer, and I couldn't think of a place he frequented that I should look for him. Nerrocan, on the other hand, I'd either never find him because he had been eaten by the fish all the time he'd been away or because he was back at that forsaken facility with the human. Both options made it impossible for me to ever retrieve one of them if not for sheer luck. I could have turned every stone upside down to find Lyr, who was objectively the better choice, but he was as good a hunter as I was, and unfortunately, he knew it. If he wanted to stay hidden, I'd not find him. And if he refused to come back, he might actually kill me to keep it that way.

As I turned towards the open ocean, I still lamented the fact that I'd not get to come home anymore. It was foolish to even try, but doing as I was told was all I'd ever known. I've been told how to hunt, behave, talk, act, and play all my life. My mother told me to take what I wanted, fight for what I wanted, and obey. So if she wanted to send me on a death mission, I had no choice. Compared to the other two, I didn't have a reason to betray the pack that had raised us, and no mate that I could call home, and so, I made my choice. 

And if I possibly could save even just one of those fools, then I'd wager my chances with the one that wouldn't kill me on sight. 

[curtsycream]

Baxter Radic Blurb

Finally finished season two of surviving summer and I love Bax’s character. He also deserved better so I’m giving him better. I’m giving him you babes <3

“How about that one?”

Looking down at his hand he looked over the tattoo she was pointing at. The slim reddish pink lollipop tattoo with small font along the white stick. Smiling at her he shook his head, “it’s just something small…I’ve always had it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head in return. “You didn’t have it before you left Queensland.”

Baxter bit back the chance to tease her for being so observant with his body. He held back as he tried to think about something to say to distract her. Nothing came to mind and he knew she wouldn’t buy into a lie.

“It’s new, got it my first week here,” he finally admitted to her.

The Queensland surfer smiled at him, “I’m loving this honesty streak. I’m guessing that Summer girl really got through to you, huh?”

“It wasn’t Summer,” he mumbled.

She craned her head back to look up at him in her seated position. “Then—then who? Or what? You’ve never been so open before,” she trailed off.

“Maybe, I don’t need to explain myself.”

She frowned grabbing his hand, “don’t do that. You always pull back when things feel tough for you. I’m sick of it, why can’t you just tell me the reason? Are you worried I’ll laugh or something? You know me better than—“

“It’s not that!” He exclaimed looking down at her. Running his free hand through his pink hair he shakes his head. “I know you wouldn’t do that, you’re too nice for that. Too nice for me,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that, you’re an amazing guy Bax…not many are like you. You don’t have to tell me about the tattoo just please don’t shut me out. It’s like ever since you moved to Shorehaven you’ve been reluctant to even message me.”

The way in which she was pouring her heart out to him left a sour taste in his mouth. Sitting beside him was the girl he grew to like quite a lot before having to leave. Tweaking his ear with his fingers he looks anywhere but at her. “I—it’s not your fault. I just thought if I avoided you it would make things easier.”

“Make what easier?”

“The fact that I like you and even if I were to tell you I’d find a way to fuck it up like I do everything else.”

The confession made the air around them feel heavy. It wasn’t like him to openly admit his feelings. But then again he had changed since moving away from Queensland. “Bax. Actually listen to me, I want you to know that what happened wasn’t your fault. You were drunk, we were all raging and someone dared you to do it. What you did wasn’t the reason you all had to leave, you know this. I don’t blame you and neither do the others. You’re a great guy,” she spoke calmly as she still held onto his hand.

Looking at her he let out a sigh, “I know that but it still feels like I had a part to play. Even if it wasn’t my fault I still fucked up. The second I got here I messed things up for my new team. I just think I’m causing myself problems.”

“You only think that because you’re so used to taking the blame. I promise you, you’re not at fault and it may take you a while to believe that. But trust me I’ll never blame you for things I know you didn’t mean to do.”

Leaning forward slightly his forehead rests against hers. His bright blue eyes searching her eyes for a hint of falsity. He found none but still he inquired, “promise?”

Raising his pinky he holds it out for her, keeping her forehead to his she locks hers around his. “I promise.”

Moving away from her he smiles keeping his pinky hooked with hers.

“Oh and Bax, I like you.”

[lynsstrange]

The one thing I wasn’t a fan of about Annabeth being there for Luke’s betrayal is the potentially lost conflict for seasons later on.

The most interesting part about Percy being alone for the betrayal in the book is Annabeth’s internal struggle with the way she sees Luke.

Even in the later books, when they’re well past Luke’s betrayal and into the war, she still acts desperate and excusing whenever Luke is involved.

Desperate to see an ounce of the boy she knew before. Some hidden bit of kindness and compassion he still has left that she felt when she was seven and needed someone to show her love. Some vulnerability he’s willing to show her that he didn’t show to Percy when they were alone in the woods.

Because if she had been there, he wouldn’t have been able to look her in the eyes and backstab her, right? Because they’re family.

And again, and again, and again he proves her wrong. In the worst way possible. She has to force herself to believe it, to fight him over and over again. But I think there was always a, tiny, irrational part of her that thought maybe he wasn’t too far gone. That his care for her could override the bitterness that had consumed him. Until the last Olympian.

I’ve talked about this passage before, but it’s so interesting to me.

It’s only when they’re on the literal elevator trip up to end the war that she finally, really accepts it. Luke isn’t ever coming back from this. He won’t even be coming back from it alive.

But when she’s on the ground, battered and vulnerable, with Luke standing over her, she still can’t help but say one last time “you promised.”

Because deep down he’s still that boy to her, and will always be.

I just feel like some of that depth is lost with her eavesdropping on Luke’s entire villain monologue to Percy. There’s less room for the interesting conflict between her and Percy that we see later on. And the way it becomes obvious how truly torn she is. How much it rips her apart to have to truly come to terms with it at the end of the series.

This was just my opinion on it. If we’re getting future seasons, I’m sure it’s gonna do a good job with the fallout of Luke’s betrayal, just maybe not in this way. But I still feel like that that was a really interesting layer to the scene that was taken away.

Edit: I think I worded the second half of my post poorly. in no way am I saying there can’t be internal conflict !!! Annabeth obviously watches Luke do terrible things later in the series, and her desire to see him in a good light comes from seeing him as an older brother, above all else. Not just from not witnessing Luke backstabbing Percy. I just think that her not watching it happen is an interesting extension of that. Like, does she think she might have been able to talk him down if she were in the forest with them, deep down? Her fatal flaw is hubris, after all, and maybe she could have fooled herself into thinking that her being there could have made him think twice. Because she’s his little sister, and would he have hurt her? It’s probably harder for her to accept the complete 180 between the last time she saw him and the next time she sees him in SOM when she wasn’t present to see exactly how angry and bitter he’d become.

By TLO, I know it’s about much more than that, it was my mistake using a photo from it, it was just what I had on hand. I’m saying it’s an interesting idea that could have been explored, especially in the second season.

[paniniichan]

Ballade of the Lost Child - Prologue

Characters: Niki, Yuzuru Proofreaders: Aru, Oli

Niki: Nomnom…♪

Kuu~u. This “hashimaki¹” is super yummy! Guess I was lucky there was a food stand here.   

It’s so delicious, why don’t more people know about this?

This world truly is weird~. Society should acknowledge “hashimaki” so much more.

It’s a flour-based food and it’s super easy to eat. You can even choose its flavour.

(In falsetto) Welcome ♪ Which flavour sauce would you like? Soy sauce flavour? Or how about cheese? –Hm~m, I just can’t choose!  

…Whoops. Woah, that was close. I almost passed that place by accident…!

Nahaha. I suddenly forgot why I’d come out here since I came across such delicious food~. 

Ooh, this line is huge!? Is this for those doughy churros that are trending at the moment!?

I thought I could avoid the crowds by coming earlier, but there are already so many people here.

I guess people gather at places with delicious food after all~.

In other words, it’s not an exaggeration to say that “delicious food creates world peace”...!

Right, this is no time to be messing around. I need to get in line before it gets too long.

<At the same time>

Yuzuru: Let’s see. I believe all the necessary purchases should be complete by now.

One, two, three… I bought this too, and that one just a moment ago. This one was sold out, so I shall have to come back at a later date.

… Hm, it appears all is in order. I don’t seem to have left any oversights.

Niki: I’m really looking forward to it~. Coming across new food is always so exciting. ♪

Yuzuru: Oh my, do I hear a familiar voice?

Ah, so it belongs to Shiina-sama. He seems to be at the end of a queue.

Season Avenue is always bustling. Hence it’s odd to see so many people lined up in a single queue.

They all seem to be queueing outside that stand. I wonder what exactly is being sold?

If Shiina-sama is lining up, it’s likely to be some type of food or drink.

… (Looking around)

… The people who’ve moved away from the stand all seem to have brightly-coloured sweets in their hands.

From their shape, I would guess they were donuts… No, perhaps churros?

Churros…? Come to think of it, I believe the Young Master mentioned those the other day…

Something about a speciality store selling cute churros on Season Avenue.

I see. He must’ve been referring to this stand.

……

Hm… He truly seemed to want to eat them, so perhaps I’ll buy them as a gift for the Young Master.

I wouldn’t usually let him eat this kind of thing, but…

Recently, he seems to be putting more and more effort into both his studies and work. Why not spoil him once in a while…♪

Shiina-sama.

Niki: Huh? Fushimi-kun?

How strange seeing you here~? Did you also come to try the churros? 

Yuzuru: I believe they would be a good gift for the Young Master. Would you mind if I accompanied you?

Niki: That’s fine by me~, let’s get these trending churros together! A journey is most fun with a companion after all²…♪

Yuzuru: It’s not a journey, we’re merely waiting together in line.

Niki: Nope nope. This line is the “Food Road”! In other words, it’s kind of like the Silk Road³, isn’t it?

Yuzuru: Well, um. Are you trying to compare this long queue to a road?

Niki: Yup! 

Yuzuru: sighs. Since the “Silk Road” isn’t about food, but rather silk, I feel like it’s a bit of a strange analogy in the first place. 

Niki: It’s instinct, Fushimi-kun. I thought I should express it to you in some way or another. Anyway, I don’t really care as long as we can get these churros. 

Yuzuru: Please stop talking based solely on reflex⁴. 

I don’t often find myself surrounded by your type, Shiina-sama. If I had to say, Hibiki-sama comes the closest.

Niki: Really?　

I don’t keep any company that’s like Fushimi-kun~. I only have irresponsible and weird people around me.

Oh well, thanks to that I can usually take it pretty easy, so that’s a plus.

Yuzuru: By the way, Shiina-sama. It seems that most people here are eating their churros as they leave, so do you know if I could order them to go? 

Since they’re not for me to eat and are instead a gift for the Young Master, I’d like to get them for takeout if possible. 

Niki: Hmm~? Is that so? I was also planning on eating while walking around here.

Truthfully, this kind of food is usually eaten on the spot or while walking, so I’m not sure if they’d be alright to take home.

Ah, Fushimi-kun. Take a look at that guy over there!

Yuzuru: Sure.

Niki: It looks like he only just bought some churros.

They’re wrapped in a paper bag from the stand too! I bet that means you can get them to go–

Man: Uwahh!?

Niki: Eh, what happened!? A fight!?

That guy was shoved over and knocked down by another man in black!?

Man: My bag! Wait, get back here! Bag thief!

Niki and Yuzuru: A bag thief!?

-----

¹ Hashimaki is Okonomiyaki wrapped around chopsticks

² Japanese proverb which means something alone the lines of “no road is long with good company”

³ The Silk Road was a series of trade routes connecting Europe and Asia spanning over 6,400km (4,000 mi) named for its primary use of trading silk. Niki is trying to liken the queue that they’re standing in to a long road where food will be traded at the end.

⁴The literal translation of what Yuzuru says is for Niki to stop talking based on “spinal reflexes”. These reflexes being involuntary and based on instinct without input from the brain. It’s effectively the same phrase as “knee-jerk reaction” in English.

[tobifuyu]

Snowflakes In My Stomach When We’re Kissin’

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, fwb to lovers, oral (male reciving), tiny bit of angsty themes with happy ending, sappy fic, ran being a simp as always to feed my “he’s a self-centered bitch until he finds the one” agenda.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: surprise… i’m back with a christmas present! this is the first fic in a three pieces installment, which can all be read as standalone but come from the same universe and evolve in the span of three different christmases. in case you didn’t know, in japan christmas is a holiday in which people spend time with their partners because they reserve new year’s for family (not only i’ve seen it in a whole lot of shoujo anime but i’ve asked my japanese coworkers to confirm eheh). it’s also customary to eat cake! ;)

“Though you said you just wanted to get a coffee.”

The only thing peeking from the red scarf is the tip of his nose, flushed with the same color of the fabric that’s wrapped around his neck. You imagine his lips curved in a smirk under it.

When he came to pick you up earlier this morning, you thought he made a bold choice pairing the red garment with the unusual color of his hair. Up until then, you always believed red and purple would clash.

But Ran made it work, somehow. Like most things in his life, he did it with a confidence that made you question your world and how you view it even if for just a second.

“Well, that we did,” He shakes his hand, his long fingers easily supporting the weight of the full cup. You can see the steam rise from it and wonder if he’s not drinking it because he’s scared to burn his tongue or because he’s not ready to go home yet.

The two of you are currently walking around Shiba Park, not too far from Roppongi Hills. The peak of Tokyo Tower is hidden in plain sight behind the trees, stripped naked by the season, and adorned by strings of fairy lights.

In daylight they look clear, void of color, and empty, they come alive at night. Just like we both do, thinks Ran.

Ran does like winter. He believes winter poses more opportunities to forgo going out and staying in bed. He loves to gaze out of his apartment’s window and spot rain pit patting against the glass, watching the water droplets leave streaks behind as he lets himself get lulled back to sleep.

He also likes that he can layer more clothes, the more the merrier, he says, it’s easier to style it. You would agree, because he looks particularly elegant with his long black coat, left unbuttoned to glimpse at the nice sweater under it. The sight of his tightly clad body alone ignites a fire inside of you, one that is meek but insistent, and will soon start to burn you inside out.

What Ran doesn’t like it’s the cold. The wind is not fair against his pale skin, it leaves it red and stinging, much like his heart when he wakes up after a night together and doesn’t find you there. He does not like the cold, the cold of the sheets around him when you’ve left hours before.

He would like to pretend he’s clueless as to why, the same way you’re staring at him now, but he knows the reason behind it.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re wandering around without a destination in freezing weather?

“Can’t you just live a little?”

You scoff at his words, taking another sip out of your hot chocolate to bite back an insult. He’s already testing your patience, and you have very little of it left today of all days.

“We should go eat some cake, I’d love an excuse to grab a Mont Blanc for later at that bakery by your apartment. Y’know I like it there.”

Cake. You don’t like cake, and you don’t like what eating cake with him would mean today of all days.

“Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Ran?” You sigh, head shaking in disappointment.

When you decided to start this with Ran, it was because you believed the man to be on the same wavelength as you. Ran had seemed like someone who knew what he wanted, and you had been sure that was not you.

He had promised that would stay the case. Your heart could not afford to be cared for by somebody.

When you look at him this time, you don’t notice how the wind is whipping the skin of his high cheeks red because his scarf is now covering everything but the lidded eyes staring at you.

At this rate Ran might end up hating winter: you seem to get colder with the season. He doesn’t think he would pick sleeping in over you, so if he could, he would like for summer to last all year long.

He’d like for you to cling to him even when the temperature is so high you can barely breathe in your cramped room, sweat sticking to both your skin and his, like your very first night together.

Because where the holidays bring glee to most, to you they’re a reminder of times that are long gone. A childhood spent decorating the tree and wishing for the perfect Christmas gift, now turned into a life of solitude. Your fast-paced job and lonely apartment away from home don’t leave space for the frivolity of Christmas.

“Didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he speaks so clearly of his intentions you almost feel shame, “Did ya think I would’ve left you bask in your gloominess, today? ‘M not that bad of an ass.”

You don’t think Ran owns you anything. He shouldn’t be picking up the pieces of you that other people left scattered and putting them back together as if it were a kids’ puzzle.

Ran knows you don’t really have anyone, he thinks he’s much like you, and would be just as bitter if he didn’t have his brother.

“You left Rin by himself?”

You hear his muffled laughter, “‘course not. Haruchiyo’s there. Y’know how they are.”

Yes. In love, you suppose. And you wonder if Ran thinks that is what it is. And what is it between you two?

You can feel his body warmth as he gravitates closer to you, “‘M cold,” is his excuse when his now ungloved hand catches yours. He intertwines your fingers, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb, before hiding them away in his coat pocket.

Gotta warm your cold heart up, he thinks.

“Saving you from this freezing weather,” is what he says out loud.

But you know it’s because the movement brings you closer, he pulls you so you’re now shoulder to shoulder, and you’re not strong enough to keep your head from falling on his. As if you were fresh snow in the sun, you melt in his presence.

“Let’s go get cake,” your voice is but a soft whisper, running past him like the breeze through the dying leaves, the wind finally settling down.

And that’s how he ends up in your apartment. Sounds of wet skin slapping against one another fill the void as he buries himself deep inside of you.

The sweet pastries Ran bought long forgotten over your kitchen counter, as he’d much rather taste the honeyed nectar spilling from between your thighs.

He’s grabbing at them now, the hold on your flesh sure to leave marks behind as he folds your legs so that he can loop his arms under your knees, keeping you spread open for him.

Big body caging you under his warmth with his forehead pressed against yours, and open mouths a breath away from the other, sharing sounds of pleasure without ever meeting in the middle.

It had been a tantalizing dance when you first started sleeping together. Like most people in your situation, you had both concluded that it would be best if you refrained from kissing. Deeming it too intimate.

Ran had caved after the third time you ended up in his bed, lips too needy to be kept from yours. He had let out a soft plead before you met him in the middle.

From then on you made it your mission to never kiss him outside of your bedroom activities, too scared of the power his kisses held over you. He and his annoying self had taken it as a challenge, always on the edge of his seat waiting to see who’d kiss the other first.

“Oh fuck this,” Ran groans before giving in.

You catch sight of his eyelids fluttering shut, hiding that violet color that you love so much, and your lips lock in a kiss that takes your breath as much as the hips still snapping against yours.

The coarse patch of hair on his navel repeatedly brushes against your puffed-up clit, making your hips jump up to chase the friction. The man is shamelessly shallowing your moans and caressing your tongue with his, teeth closing around your bottom lip when you go to pull away.

“Ngh, you taste like cake.”

Ran had snuck a bite of one of the pieces the moment he stepped out of the bakery, and the sweet taste on his tongue was, in your opinion, way better than the real deal.

His hand grasps your chin with firmness, the tips of his fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your blushed lips pucker up.

“So you do like cake, mh?”

“No, I don-“ Ran squeezes harder, and your mouth parts. A glob of spit falls on your tongue, one that you shallow under his scrutinizing gaze.

The moan that he lets out at that reverberates through your chest as he bends so close your bodies are now completely pressed against one another, sharing body heat.

This is what sex with Ran is, a concoction of rough touches and fucking that turn soft and slow when you least expect it. He likes to tease and surprise you, stealing the prettiest sounds from your lips and making them his. Making you his.

“Y’don’t like cake, s’okay. I know you like me,” one of his hands teasingly pinches your right nipple, respective eye closing in a wink.

You like that he makes sex fun, cracking jokes as if his cock weren’t pumping inside of you. You like it, you like him, but you can’t have him know that.

“That’s not-“ he interrupts you once again, this time with the snapping of his hips. He starts fucking you like he means it. Calculated thrusts hitting against the sweet spot only he knows how to find.

Ran is on his knees now, hands firmly planted on your raised hips, guiding you back and forth over his length.

“Fuck! Ran, fuck that feels good- so good-“

Slurred words leave your panting mouth as your hands hold onto the pillow behind your head for dear life, back arched and chest exposed to the greedy eyes that are raking over your body. From your perked-up nipples, begging to be played with, to the way your cunt is stretching around his cock.

“Don’t have enough hands for the things I wanna do to you,” Nonetheless, he repositions his right one so that it’s splayed over your navel, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles on your slicked clit.

“Fuckin’ cunt squeezing me so good,” moans spill from your mouth at his words, his voice is strained but maintains that hint of icy superiority and poise that is characteristic of Ran.

The way your hole flutters around him is maddening, Ran can feel your walls clenching against his length so perfectly. He can feel everything.

As a matter of fact, so do you. No matter how dumb he fucks you, you can’t ever miss out on the sweet feeling of his bare skin caressing your wet cunt. The squelching sounds are filling the air around you, making your cheeks heat up and your head lull to the side, trying to avoid his eyes in shame.

Half face buried in the pillow, you beg for him, “Ran, please, please. I need to cum so bad.”

His thrusts slow down, thumb stilling over your clit, and you hear him hum, pensive.

“Maybe if you looked at me, pretty, I might think about letting you.”

Gathering your remaining strength, you open your eyes to the sight of his glorious body above yours.

The wetness of his skin shines under the light of the outside street lamp, peeking in from the window, full body tattoo so enchanting, you watch it move and bend over his rising chest.

With violet eyes fixed on yours, he stands tall, unreachable.

The purple strands that fall from his gelled-back hairstyle are the only giveaway that he’s not so perfect and pristine after all, but he still looks like a god in your devoted eyes.

“Ran,” you call his name so softly he tumbles from the skies right to you.

His body bends to lay over yours, weight supported by his arms at your sides. With a snap of his hips, he breaks the longing stare you’re both sharing, mushroom tip hitting the spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh my god, that feels so-“ “I know, baby, s’okay.” One of his hands caresses over your head, before stopping at your neck and closing around your windpipe. The pressure of his touch against your feverish skin is delicious.

Your nails are now creating indents in the flesh of his arms. You want more, you need him to break you.

Ran can’t stop thrusting, pounding, burying himself inside of you to the hilt. He’s never wanted to be this close to someone before, never needed their warmth as he does yours.

He stops you before you can reach your clit with your fingers and, wanting to be the one to take you over the edge, he uses his free hand to rub over it vehemently.

“Coming, I’m coming,” are the rushed words that fall from your lips before you hit your peak. Wanton moans are gracing Ran’s ears, making his balls strain from holding back, but he wants you to bask in the glow of your orgasm before he reaches his.

“Doin’ so well fo’ me, look at this pretty pussy. Gushing all over my cock.” He looks down as he says this, watching how good he’s splitting you open, his cock coming out of you covered with the white sheen of your arousal, then plunging back in.

Your spent body is overstimulated, twitching in his hold as if trying to run away from the pleasure.

“You’re the only one, baby.” Ran lets slip, the sight of you in your most vulnerable state makes him just as weak, “S’all yours, so take it.” And he means it, you’re the only one.

Before you, life used to be in black and white. Ran had tried everything to paint it some other color, from violence to sex, but nothing ever came close to holding you in his arms.

Color is always all around him, but Ran’s devoid of it until you touch him.

You pull him down to you at the confession, arms wrapped around his neck, chests pressed against one another, hard nipples tickling the soft skin.

The pace suddenly turns slow, and you wonder if Ran does not care about coming anymore. His focus is on you, and you’re staring back at him with just as much affection.

“Let me take care of you,” it’s what you suggest once you’ve come down from your high, fingers pressing against his shoulders to have him lay back in the sheets. Short hair sprawled over the white pillow like a halo behind his troubled head.

Both of your thighs are circling his hips, too scared to have Ran pull out, and be prevailed by that sense of emptiness and cold that comes from being away from him.

Fighting a whirlpool of emotions, you feel the need to silence your mind with his lips on yours. The clashing of your noses does nothing to stop you from kissing each other passionately.

The blame should be on Ran for making you fall for him and gifting you a brand new reason to celebrate Christmas, but you should’ve known better when he walked into your life with that snarky smirk that makes you sigh just thinking about it. You bite his lip in retaliation.

The feeling of Ran’s hands traveling over your skin and sinking with his strong grip on the flesh of your hips is what makes you separate your two halves, pussy clenching around the length that has been filling you up so perfectly. The need to make him feel just as good swells up on the inside.

“Fuck, please,” A choked whisper, falling from the pearlescent of his lips, wet with your love, blood pouring out of the bitten skin.

Purple and red do look good together, you think.

Your hands are warm, trailing up his stomach like the ink on his skin. He feels as if you’re moving too fast, scared he might blink and lose the moment, and at the same time too slow for his liking. He’s begging and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for. But you do.

Ran’s hands tighten around the bedsheets. He wants to touch everywhere you’ve been, wants to get stained in you. Like fresh paint that sticks on skin, he’s now colored in your shades.

Wet kisses are being left on the top of his shaft. Ran’s right hand finds your hair, waving his fingers between the loose strands to uncover the sight of your pretty face.

Lidded eyes are watching you glide your tongue down his hardness, caressing the bluish veins running across its sides, tasting yourself on it.

When your lips wrap around his sensitive tip you have to hold down his hips with both hands.

The peace you set is slow, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His girth stretches your lips and he thumbs the lower one as you look up at him with tears forming at your lashline.

“Mouth feels like fucking heaven, angel.”

Ran can barely contain himself, dangling from the edge, his balls heavy with his release.

When your nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock, you know you’ve successfully taken him whole. A huge accomplishment on your part, considering how blessed he is.

With your throat clenching around him, it doesn’t take long to feel him twitch in your mouth.

“Yeah, pretty girl, just like that. Make me cum, fuck!”

Bobbing your head at his request, you’re hasty in sucking your checks around his length, letting him come on the back of your tongue with languid moans that contain your name.

No need for him to ask, you’re one step ahead by swallowing his semen, making a show of it before leaving a wet kiss on his tip, to collect the white drop that was spilling over.

“Better than any cake.”

Booming laughter fills the space around you as you scoot closer to his tired body, laying on his naked frame and stealing all his warmth.

“I do like you.”

“I know,” Ran looks down at you, left check cutely smushed against his pecs, “Let’s spend New Year’s together.”

The faint movement of your hair brushing his skin tells him you’re agreeing, “And what about… next year?”

“Let’s spend them all together.”

You’re warm in his hold, and he figures the fairy lights might’ve come on in the park.

Ran thinks back to the rest of the untouched cake on your kitchen counter and is happy enough that the two of you have exchanged Christmas gifts in your own special way.

After all, he took away the cold, and you’ve brightened up his life.

That’s more of what you could’ve wished for.