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catlvrmax · 5 months ago

Text

RACE DAY & NIGHTCLUBS.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary it's race day! you and amara decide to spend your sunday night out in the city. you make new friends in the process.

cw ONE use of [Y/N] - it was inevitable. idk the deets of how f1 works exactly, but i tried. this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest, but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want. (the pictures are for aesthetic purposes.)

a/n i feel like the alonso scene is kinda useless but idk i put it in ite.

masterlist | taglist

—

"I'm so excited!" Amara squealed as you grabbed her wrist to keep her close.

Today is race day. You woke up early, buzzing with anticipation. Amara tried to (poorly) contain her excitement and constant giggles until you had at least one cup of coffee in your system but failed ten minutes into breakfast. You don't blame her—she loves the sport.

She also loves the drivers. Loves the gossip and the drama on and off track. A new thing she has picked up, one you really want to put a stop to, is teasing you about a certain Dutchman. It was already bad enough that your conversation kept replaying in your head, and her playful teasing increased the thoughts of the two-time world champion.

You tolerated it on the walk to the circuit, rolling your eyes at her dreamy sighs and romantic scenarios, which she mostly made up to annoy you but changed the subject as you approached your destination. You refused to look or sound like a crazy fangirl in case... well, in case of actually running into him.

Arriving at the circuit and checking in the paddock had been a nightmare. You and Amara were not huge fans of crowded places you more than her, and the heat of the sun beating down on you made it ten times worse. Alas, you finally found yourselves away from the masses and around the corner of the Aston Martin hospitality building.

Amara was not paying attention to where she was going, and you were listening intently to the plans for the day. At the last minute, you saw a green shirt from the corner of your eye. You pulled on her wrist, and she stumbled towards you, but not before softly colliding with the side of the tall man in the green shirt.

"Oh, shit. ¡Lo siento, señor!" The apology comes in Spanish. (I am sorry, sir!)

"Esta bien, señorita? I was not looking in my path." You try to catch your jaw from falling to the ground when you eye the Green Shirt Guy. (Are you okay, miss?)

That's Fernando fucking Alonso. Fernando Alonso, the man you may or may not have a tiny crush on, is helping Amara stand up after she bent over to grab her discarded water bottle.

"Ah, si. Lo siento, señor Alonso. Estaba mostrando a mi amiga alrededor—"

"It's you from yesterday, no?! The girl with the great, uh, Spanish skills!" He talks to her as if they've known each other for years.

You stand there stunned, trying to compose yourself as your F1 crush stands before you, casually conversing with your best friend. Amara must be ready to explode right about now. You would laugh if you weren't fighting the urge to scream and run around from the joy.

You hear your name fall from Amara's lips, and your gaze focuses back on them. "That's my best friend. I gave her the hat!"

Fernando nods, his gaze on you as a polite smile causes his dimples to appear. You show him the signed Aston Martin cap by tilting your head.

"Amara said you are a big fan. I appreciate it. Do you want to take a photograph?"

"Uh-Yeah! Yeah, I'd love to!" You take your phone out. Oh-em-gee. Oh-em-gee. Is this really happening? "It's nice to meet you, sir!" You can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Fernando, being taller than you, asks for your phone. He raises it above your head and takes a couple of selfies. You muster the brightest smile, copying his funny faces and poses. When he hands it back, thank yous stumble from your lips faster than any car on the grid.

"Mucha suerte para ti hoy!" (Best of luck to you today!)

Fernando laughs but bows his head in appreciation. "Muchas gracias, querida." He turns to Amara, who's watching you both with a smile. "Enjoy the race, girls!"

And with that, he's walking away. You and Amara stand still for a few seconds, watching him disappear around the corner. You lock eyes, jaws on the floor. Squeals escape the both of you as you grab each other for support.

"Oh, my fucking God! We just—I—You—"

"I talked to Fernando fucking Alonso, and you took a photo with him. Shit!" Her tone betrays her disbelief.

"Oh, pinch me, 'mara, because this can't possibly be fucking real!" You cup your red cheek with one palm. "He remembered you. That's crazy!"

Amara giggles. "We talked in Spanish yesterday, and he told me he was impressed by my fluency!"

You smack her arm, suppressing a smile. "What? Why didn't you tell me all of that!? From past experiences, your Spanish has been shit."

She gasps dramatically, feigning offence. "How dare you, missy?! My Spanish is almost perfect. I just happened to get nervous around native speakers!"

You laugh and raise your hands in surrender, muttering my bad. Amara links her elbow with yours. "Are you ready to watch twenty cars go in weird-shaped circles?"

"Yup," you answer, popping the p before pulling her towards the building you will be watching from. "He is hotter in person." You cannot help but add.

Amara rolls her eyes but hums in agreement.

—

"Max Verstappen wins the Spanish Grand Prix! Another flawless performance by the current World Champion!"

You can't help but smile as the camera cuts to his team celebrating. Amara claps in delight, gathering her scattered things from the table to put inside her bag. The VIP room you watched the race from is slowly emptying as everyone walks down to where the celebration will take place. Amara wants to go and get as close as she can to the front, so she can take pictures of the podium. Lewis Hamilton came second, followed by George Russell, and your best friend was beaming and eager to see the podium from up close.

"You don't have to come with me. It's pretty tight there, with the crew, and fans, and stuff." You nod, thankful to her for not forcing you to tag along. "You can wait by the Red Bull hospitality. I think it's closer to the exit." She pauses as you stand from your seat. "And who knows. Maybe a Dutchman will pass by, and you deliver on your plan."

You huff at her wiggling eyebrows. "Seems kind of impossible since Max is celebrating on the podium, 'mara. You have a better chance at meeting him." You snort at her deflated expression.

"Oh, yeah, you're right." She shrugs. "Well, who knows? You might bump into each other again."

"I highly doubt that. Now, give me everything you don't need. I'll put it in my bag. I don't want you losing anything in that crowd."

Amara hands you her handbag and kisses you on the cheek before walking away. You're the only guest in the room now, accompanied by the bartender on the other side of the room. You contemplate staying here or leaving for the Red Bull hospitality. The track fills with fans, as is the ground below the podium. Lewis and George are already there, which means that—

"Here's Max Verstappen, the winner of this year's Spanish Grand Prix." Crofty, the commentator, announces the champion's arrival at the podium's top step.

He looks handsome, with a smile decorating his face and high cheekbones glistening with sweat. He waves at the crowd and takes his Pirelli hat off. His hair is messy, but it just makes him look hotter. Wow. You need to stop, or you'll salivate all over the bloody floor. You turn away from the TV as the Dutch national anthem starts playing.

One thought keeps repeating as you walk out of the building and to the sunny paddock. Max Verstappen is undoubtedly handsome.

—

You're aimlessly pacing in front of the Red Bull building, skipping through the pictures you'd taken. Most of them were of Amara posing in front of different buildings, eating or walking. You don't notice a chest heading your way until it's too late, and you collide. Ouch, you mumble as you rub your forehead.

"We should stop meeting like this." You recognise the voice immediately. How could you not? The man has been plaguing your thoughts.

Your heart is racing. You don't meet Max's eyes at first, hoping that a simple apology will make him walk away. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't paying attention."

"Are you lost again? Do you need help?" Max is quick to offer, but you shake your head negatively.

A hand comes forward, a featherlight touch on your elbow. You finally meet his gaze, rubbing on the spot that stings. What the fuck is he made of? Rock? His eyes hold concern as they rake over your face.

"What are you made of? Rock or something? That stung!" You offer a shy smile and a joke, for his worried expression makes your palms sweat.

He returns the smile. "Hey! You were the one not paying attention."

You shrug. "I was looking through the photos I've taken." You raise the old camera for him to see.

"Oh, yeah? Any cool ones?" He asks, stepping closer to you to see.

You notice a man behind the driver, wearing a Red Bull polo and an impatient expression. Anxiety sparks at your chest. He's got somewhere to be. Leave him alone. "Don't you have media duties to attend? You did just win a race." His smile turns guilty at your words.

"Yeah. I've got to change from this," he points at his racing suit," and attend interviews." He doesn't look too excited to do so.

"Well, then, I shouldn't be keeping you." You move a step back, nervously glancing at the other man.

Max does as well, the flush on his cheeks bolder than before. He opens his mouth, and you watch him have an internal war with himself before he decides to voice whatever thought he has. He motions to the man to go ahead without him. I'll be there in a minute, he mutters.

"I'd love to see those photographs."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you know you look like a fish as your mouth opens and closes. Your face heats up. "Uh—They're really nothing special. This is an old camera."

Max shrugs. "Why don't you give me your number? I can be the judge of that." Oh, shit. You nod.

He does an immaculate job of looking confident as if this isn't affecting him. A pretty girl agreed to give him his number. It's dangerous for a person with the number of young fans he has to give his phone number to a stranger, but he feels he can trust you. You haven't given him a reason to think you might be a crazy fangirl.

"D'you have a pen? I don't have my phone with me." You nod, rummaging through your handbag to find the emergency glittery pink pen.

Once you pull it out, Max can't help but comment on it. "Nice colour." You send him a playful glare.

He stretches his palm, and you softly pull his fingers closer. You scribble down your number, writing your first and last name underneath it. Max feels remorseful for not even having asked you your name. He knows that you no doubt know who he is now. He repeats it, and your breath hitches. He says it so perfectly, you might melt in a puddle. Caaaaaalm down. You sound insane. He's just stating your name.

"Pretty name," he thinks out loud. You don't believe you were meant to hear that, yet your face grows a shade darker.

Before you can say anything, the man shouts his name from the building's door. "Come on, mate! You're going to be late!" You can see the disappointment Max feels from his deflated smile.

"I have to go. Media duties." You chuckle when he rolls his eyes and nod. "I'll, uh, text you. For the pictures." He takes a step back, eyes locked with yours.

"For the pictures, yeah."

His face is flushed. You blame the race he just won. It's a poor excuse to give someone your number, no matter how famous they might be, yet you did. Amara will have a field day with this information. You half expect her to revive her old Tumblr account for the sake of acting on her scenarios.

"Bye." You wave, and he waves back, exchanging bashful smiles.

You watch his figure approach the man by the door when it hits you. "Oh, Max!" He turns quickly, eyes searching for yours. "Congratulations on your win!"

His eyes crinkle from the smile that he gives you. "Thank you!" He adds your name, and you don't deny it this time; Max Verstappen is extremely handsome, especially when he smiles.

—

MESSAGES: two. From > unknown number.

unknown number

hey, it's Max!

Verstappen. The guy in

the RB shirt.

you

hm... i don't know anyone

with this name. sorry!

max verstappen

Two-time world champion?

you

nope.

never met any world champions

in my life, sorry.

max verstappen

I helped you yesterday

and saw you today outside of

the RB hospitality.

This is [Y/N], right?

you

🤣 yes!

i'm just messing with you max!

max verstappen

*phew* had me thinking you

gave me the wrong number

you

*dramatic gasp*

i am NOT that cruel, mr verstappen!

btw, i havent transferred the photos yet!

camera's charging.

max verstappen

That's totally okay!

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

you

contemplating whether i should share my

whereabouts with a random man....

max verstappen

HEY! you've met me!

two times already!!!

you

and how do i know this is the REAL

Max Verstappen????????

max verstappen

....you gave me your phone number.

you

oh, yeah. that makes sense.

i'm very sleep deprived haha

max verstappen

😂😂

you

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

�� ↪ to answer your previous question,

me and my bff are going clubbing

in Barcelona!

max verstappen

Oh, that sounds fun!

you

i'm secretly terrified of getting lost

in the city, but hey! i'm only here for another

night. might as well have fun

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

max verstappen

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

↪ THAT'S TRUE. Carlos is an

expert in all things nightclub when we're

here for the GP

you

you have any places to recommend?

amara is still looking on trip advisor

max verstappen

😨 TRIP ADVISOR?

you

WELL WE HAD TO START SOMEWHERE

max verstappen

the Vault is a really great place. Great

drinks and the DJ plays nice songs.

You should try that one!

you

i'm guessing it's expensive

as fuck

max verstappen

not as expensive as it is packed

BUT there's always the Disco Diva

and other clubs down that street

you

max verstappen, you know your

clubs, i see.

(the disco diva? really?)

max verstappen

you caught me ahahahahah

(the disco diva? really?)

↪ it plays really cool stuff

you

it plays really cool stuff

↪ i trust ur judgement.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

max verstappen

how do I know I'm not giving away

my location to a super crazy

fangirl?

you

you dont! YOU wanted MY number.

soooo.... 🤷🏻‍♀️

max verstappen

LOL. you're funny.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

↪ I was thinking of gaming, but the

boys want to party.

you

WELL, YAH! you totally deserve to let loose!

max verstappen

Hm, I might think about it.

Ha! Maybe we'll find each other in the club!

you

hahahahah it would be pretty embarrassing

if i ran into you again.

for the third time.

have fun with whatever you choose

to do, Maximus Verstappen.

max verstappen

that is definitely NOT my first name.

but i thank you, schat 😁

seen, now.

—

"Who are you talking to?" Amara asks, her eyes glued on TripAdvisor.

"H-Huh?" You barely register her words, fingers tapping on your screen incredibly fast.

"You've been giggling for, like, ten minutes now. I'm assuming it's not your mom. She's probably having lunch."

"Oh, you know. Just this guy I bumped into today. You might know him. His name's Max. Ma—"

"Fucking Verstappen?!" Amara all but yells, sitting up swiftly.

Your eyes meet her shocked expression, and you can't help the chuckle that escapes at her priceless reaction. You shrug in response, feigning nonchalance. Truth is, your best friend has hyped this guy up a lot, and your poor heart beats somewhat faster now that you're talking to him.

"You told me to get his number, didn't you?"

"W-Well—Yeah. But I didn't actually think you'd do it!"

You gasp as if offended. "You dare think so little of me? Think that I wouldn't honour my promise to feed your delusions?"

Amara laughs, lightly smacking your arm. "Okay, weirdo. Tell me what the fuck happened."

After pushing yourself to a sitting position, you tell her every detail of your second meeting with the world champion, including the texts. Amara's reactions are comical. At the end of your story-telling process, she's sitting there, with her jaw mere inches from touching the ground.

"So, do you think we'll meet him in that nightclub?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He said he'd think about it." You show her your phone, scrolling to the text he had sent you mere minutes ago. "Doesn't sound that eager to me."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go by the Vault, or whatever its name was." Amara wiggles her eyebrows.

"Are you trying to get me laid with a celebrity?"

She grimaces. "Pfft. He's hot. You're pretty. If you take out the millions on Instagram—" "—and his bank account." Amara shoots you a pointed look. "He looks like a pretty normal guy." She exhales before continuing. "You should have fun. We didn't come here just for me. And he seems like a lot of fun."

Amara wasn't wrong. Yes, you had come here for the Grand Prix, which was her thing, but there was plenty of time for you to have fun. And if fun meant drinking and meeting with an extremely handsome guy, who were you to refuse? You'd probably never see him again, either.

—

views 96 / views 242

—

"Finally!" You shout excitedly.

After waiting for a solid thirty minutes in a very long line outside of Club Vault and paying an entry fee that you're sure is way too expensive, you have finally made it inside. The place is flooded with people drinking, dancing, and talking. The lights are dim, and the music loud; a promising, fun night.

You barely dodge swaying on the dancefloor as Amara drags you to the bar. She orders for you while you look around. The DJ and his setup is on a balcony, above which there is a VIP sign. You squint your eyes as another face comes into view. Is that...Lando Norris?

You blindly reach for Amara, turning her around by the wrist. "Hey, isn't that Norris?"

Despite the ear-deafening music, you're able to hear your best friend's gasp. "Oh, my fucking God! Yes, that's him!" She looks at you, a knowing smile on her lips. "Does that mean that he's here—"

"I don't know!" The bartender nods at you, showing you your drinks. "Let's drink!"

And that's exactly what you do. Your drinks are cold enough to help with the heat of dancing, and you can't lie, Lando—with the help of the actual DJ—plays decent music. Max was right about the place being fun. Amara is doing her weird dance moves, and you're copying her, trying to best her.

You're two drinks in, back turned to the DJ booth, when your best friend's eyes widen, dance moves faltering, and you hear everybody cheer. She elbows you to turn around, and your breath hitches: it's Max. He's actually here with Lando and the DJ. And your heart is racing with excitement. He waves at the crowd below, and everyone cheers louder.

Your lip twitches as an idea forms in your mind. Taking your phone out of your boot (an extremely smart and safe place to hide it—if it fits—btw), you snap a picture of the champion, sending it to your chat.

—

MESSAGES: two. To > max verstappen.

you

one file attached.

just found your lookalike!

max verstappen

THATS ME! WhEere are yoU?!?!8@

you

how much have you had to drink? lol

max verstappen

not drunk .

just shvoing past poepel to get to you

where re uoy?????

you

by the bar

max verstappen

real helpful

you

im wearing black?

seen, now

—

You wait a couple of seconds for the grey bubble to appear. When you don't receive a response, you shrug, putting your phone back in its hiding spot. Your gaze focuses on Amara; she's biting her lip while holding two shots in each hand.

"I stole them!" is all she says.

Your jaw drops, and you giggle, accepting the tiny glasses. You yell cheers before chugging down both of them. Tequila. Nice.

You take a step back, eyes blinking away tears caused by the burn in your throat. You don't realise you've stepped into someone's toes until a shout almost bursts your eardrums.

"Jesus Christ!" You yell, covering the side of your head.

Turning around, you're faced with the one and only; Max Verstappen, holding on to the bar railing with a pained expression. Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull.

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?" You can barely hear yourself.

He nods, throwing a smile your way. "Yeah, I'm good! It's nice to see you!" You're barely able to read his lips.

A pinch on your lower back startles you, and you turn around with a gasp. Amara's standing there, expectant, wide eyes moving from you to Verstappen.

"Oh, Max! This is my best friend, Amara!"

She smiles politely, shaking his offered hand. "Nice to meet you!" You wonder if she's close to passing out from internal fangirling.

His eyes return to you. "Hey, you wanna join my table?"

Shaking your head with a confused grimace, you shout. "I can't hear anything you're saying!"

"What?!"

"I can't hear any—"

It's futile to communicate this way, he decides. Max's slightly cold hands are suddenly pulling on your wrists, gently guiding you closer to him. Goosebumps take over your entire body, forearm burning as he moves his fingers to your elbow, keeping you steady, and he leans toward your ear.

"Wanna join me and my friends?" He feels your breath hitch and pulls back to meet your hesitant gaze.

"We don't want to bother you," you say once you pull him down.

Max shakes his head. "Nonsense! I won the race, and I want to celebrate with my friends."

He hears your breathy chuckle. "We're friends, now?"

"Unless you're some super crazy fangirl I should be worried about." The smile in his voice gives away his amusement. He's quoting his texts.

You pause for a second. Knowing Amara, she would agree immediately. You should have fun, you recall her words from earlier. And he seems like a lot of fun. Yeah. She's right.

"Let me ask 'mara." You point to your best friend, awkwardly standing by the bar.

He watches you talk in her ear, a smile forming on your best friend's lips before she eagerly nods. "You're coming?" He asks once you approach him as if he hadn't been staring at you already.

"Okay." As soon as you nod, Max's smile widens, eyes shining.

You nod, and he feels his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. "C'mon," goosebumps raise on your exposed arms as Max grabs your hand. His hand is so soft. "I don't want you getting lost." The wink he throws your way only fuels the flush on your neck and cheeks.

It's definitely going to be a fun night.

The walk to the VIP section is extremely difficult, with Max getting recognised and patted on the back every few seconds. When you finally make it, you sigh in relief before Max pulls you both by the wrist to meet his friends. Be cool, you mouth to Amara who only nods, wide-eyed.

"Pierre and Kika, Charles and Alex, this is [Y/N] and Amara!" You're sure they can barely hear him over the loud music but wave at them anyway. Charles shares a look with Pierre, the latter unable to contain his smile.

Max leans down, his nose brushing your temple. "Wait just a moment. Lando's around here somewhere." Before you can say a word, he flashes you a smile and disappears into the crowd, leaving you gaping like a fish.

You have no time to recover when the pretty girls approach you. Alex introduces herself as Alexandra, but she doesn't mind going by Alex. Kika's name is Francisca, but she goes by Kika. It's nice to meet them, and you don't hesitate to tell them so.

"Shots?" Amara reappears with four shot glasses passing them to each of you. "Cheers!" You clink your glasses before downing them.

"Oh, are you doing shots without me?!" A new voice pops up from behind you. Amara's eyes widen momentarily, meeting yours in poorly contained excitement.

You turn, gaze landing on Lando Norris and then gluing on Max Verstappen. This lighting makes him look even hotter. Is it normal to be thinking that? Probably not.

He introduces you to the tipsy-looking Brit, who shakes your hands in return. Amara's pulled to the side by Kika, something about doing more shots, and Charles motions for Max to go over to him. Once you're alone with Lando, a smile breaks onto his face.

"He's said a lot about you!" Your brows furrow, confused.

"What? That I tend to get lost easily in big places?" You nervously laugh, but Lando just shakes his head.

"Somethin' like tha'!"

—

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—

You haven't had this much fun in a while. You and Amara usually go to two clubs as a duo, but you admit having more people to dance and do shots with is way more fun. You're usually the sober one, having a higher tolerance for alcohol than your best friend, and this time you're extra careful since you're in a foreign place.

At some point during your dance battle with Kika and Amara, you grow tired. As much as you liked exaggerating your moves, your boots were made for walking, not jumping. Max had been out of your vision for a while, and you decided to look for him. He wasn't hard to find, considering he was nursing a drink on a couch further away from the action.

"Hey!" You plop down, bumping your elbow with his.

Max grinned. "Hey, stranger. Are you having fun?"

You nod excitedly. "Your friends are really nice." He snorts at that. "No, really! Drive to Survive does justice to none of you!"

Max's eyes widen, mouth hanging in shock. "Your source of information is a Netflix show?"

"Hey! I had to start from somewhere. I knew next to nothing about racing."

Conversing with Max comes naturally. He's funny, and he listens to what you have to say. He asks about your job: a photographer for brands. He laughs when you tell him you prefer the make-up brands because they're easier to manage than people.

He explains racing to you in simple terms. You nod along, trying your best to take in the information. It's harder with all the music and dancing bodies, but you make it work. You've shuffled even closer to him as Max leans down to talk directly in your ear while his hands move animatedly in front of you.

At some point, the conversation shifts to cats. You're delighted to learn that he has not one, but two big babies. Jimmy and Sassy. Max is a very proud cat dad, you conclude, from the excitement that exudes from every pore of his body as he slides from picture to picture.

"Oh my goodness! They're so cute!" You try not to literally squeal as Max stumbles upon a picture of them napping on his chest.

"They sleep all day and ask for treats all night." You laugh as he rolls his eyes, probably recalling every time this has happened.

"Oh, I'd love to meet them one day. They look lovely!"

"Yeah, I could introduce you someday," he says, and you turn to look at him with a huge smile.

"I should bring my Cheddar when it happens."

"Cheddar?"

"My cat. He's a big fluffball." You reach for your phone, unlocking it to search for pictures of your orange cat.

"And you named him Cheddar? After the cheese?" He looks at you incredulously.

You giggle at his expression. "He's as orange as the cheese. It was my mom's idea to name him that."

You turn your phone his way, showing him a selfie of the fluffiest cat Max has ever seen on top of your shoulders. You're clearly giggling in it, a hand over your mouth. Cute, he thinks.

"He's adorable."

"And fat," you add.

Tapping a most recent picture, you show it to Max. Cheddar is on his back, his fat ass making him look like a pear. Your mom had sent you this just a day before.

"He's staying with my mom right now. And she's feeding him more than needed."

"We should arrange a playdate." You chuckle at Max's suggestion.

"Sure, if you fly out to England."

Before Max can respond, a very loud and drunk Brit makes his way to you. Lando grins when he spots you two sitting close, indiscreetly winking at Max. Your face feels warm.

"Do you guys wan' t' leave?" You barely make out his words.

Charles notices the three of you and pulls a dancing Alex with him, who pulls Amara with her. The three make their way to where you're seated.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Lando turns to him. "Are you hungry, mate?"

Charles shakes his head, leaning close to Alex to ask her the same. She also shakes her head with an apologetic smile.

"I am!" Amara nudges Lando, and his eyes light up.

He turns to Max and you. "Me and my new friend," he pulls Amara by the shoulders, and she drunkenly stumbles, "are hungry. Will you take us somewhere to eat?"

You look at Max, who mirrors your smiling expression. Lando says something about Max promising to be his chauffeur if he got too drunk.

"I could eat," you shrug. Max nods, agreeing.

He stands up, looking at the drunk pair. "Okay, let's go."

—

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wvbaandtheboys · 2 months ago

Text

DREAMESCAPE: RE-DREAMED EDITION!

forthethirdfuckingtime-

Hey punchy peeps, yup it's me again I present to y'all my pride and joy, the Dreamescape AU! This time, redone with an idea I originally discarded when I was first making the AU, but I ended up using for the revamped version! Let's get into the ✨ lore ✨

THIS AU DEALS WITH DARK THEMES! BE CAREFUL TRAVELLERS!

This AU takes place in the span of the 1920s. The Macs live with their single father, Jerome/Doc Louis, having a docile and normal life. Their father works tirelessly to provide for his sons, being a middle class worker. With familiar faces surrounding their everyday lives, the family is content and lives out their days in joy. However, over a tense and perplexing time span, many people in their community begin to pass away unexpectedly with little to no closure on some of their deaths. Hysteria rises amongst the townsfolk; hysteria of a supernatural curse of well known origin, rooted in folklore, that threatens the adult population. And by proxy, the children of the town.

It is the Constellation of Shadows. An arachnoid, nightmarish entity that targets children through the adults in their lives. It invades the dreams of adults while they sleep, and takes them into its dark abyss of a web. It then mutates them, reforms them for its own purposes. Then unleashes them like wild animals to murder the children in their sleep.

Very few families have survived the Constellation's insatiable hunger for terror and demise: there are only two documented survivors of the Constellation throughout the years. Those families were never the same, suffering long term effects that led to either tragedy within them, or them disappearing from the town, never to be seen again. Hysteria once again breaks out, with the message to stay awake and alert at all costs and protect your children, as the Constellation cannot attack if you are not asleep or drowsy. However, it was only so long before the Louis household succumbed to exhaustion, and entered a deep slumber.

However, there is one hope. Father Dream. Father Dream is another folklore figure who, once upon a time, constantly did battle with the Constellation in order to uphold the safety of all dreamers. However, the feast of fear supplied to the Constellation allowed it to best Father Dream and trap him within his own seemingly unending slumber. However, Father Dream was still in control of some of his power. He blesses Mac with a special ability: the ability to resurrect the dead. Now, the Macs must face monsters of familiarity in order to make it out alive. And, in order to rescue their father before he suffers the same fate as the adults before him did. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ With the lore out of the way, let's learn about those adults: WII:

Joe - Chef (27)

Kaiser - Clockmaker (52)

Disco - Radio Show Host (25)

Hippo - Tribal King (50s to Early 60s)

Hondo - Photographer (33)

Hugger - Game Warden (44)

Tiger - Illusionist (31)

Don - Fisherman (26)

Aran - Dockworker (27)

Soda - Ice Cream Parlor Owner (41)

Bull - Priest (40)

Macho - Singer (30)

SUPER PUNCH OUT:

Gabby - Librarian (62)

Hurricane - Meteorologist (29)

Bob - Homeless (36)

Dragon - Lead Dragon Dancer (25)

Muscle - Doctor (37)

Heike - Unemployed (16)

Mad Clown - Clown (obviously shjsjs) (30)

Narcis - Nobleman (31)

Hoy - Retired Teacher (83)

Rick and Nick - Tailors (R - 28, N - 29)

Now, how did all of them meet their untimely demises? TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, WRITTEN DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE/GORE, SUICIDE. PLEASE TAKE THIS INTO ACCOUNT WHEN READING FURTHER ON! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ WII: Joe - No one heard from him for a good while since his restaurant was suddenly closed, so it eventually drew the attention of police. When they went in, they found him in the basement of the restaurant, slumped against one of the walls and clearly long dead. He appeared to die clutching a kitchen knife in his hand. He represents Ataxophobia.

Kaiser - Kaiser’s somewhat anti-social personality did put some off from checking in on him too frequently, but they knew he was in and working when they heard the ticking of the clocks within his workshop. Concern arose when the ticking stopped. When concerned folks went inside the old man’s shop to check on him, They found him sprawled out on the floor, stiff. He was surrounded by clocks, all had their hands frozen at the hour of midnight. He represents Chronometrophobia.

Disco - Way too suddenly did Louie Brown's show get taken off the air. An announcement was made in the newspapers shortly thereafter that the host had passed away. Though they didn’t release details, he was found to have cords of recording machinery taut around his neck, still seated in the recording booth. And with the recording machine on, but thankfully not on the air. He represents Sedatephobia. Hippo - Hippo and his people (women, men and children alike) were quite sociable with the public. Seeing as they weren’t native to the town and after a great tragedy for the tribe, the king seemed to have a certain desperation to be accepted and gain a new home, considering what happened to them. However, the Hippoans were extremely generous and shared their culture with the townsfolk. But, they all just… vanished one day. It was presumed that perhaps Hippo had tried to guide them to live elsewhere, but no one can say for sure what happened to them. He represents Anthropophobia.

Hondo - Though nothing was visibly perturbing about him, laid on either a couch or his bed, his camera was in close proximity. When the photos recently taken on it were printed out, they showed cryptic, vignetted images of Hondo at angles that appeared as though another person had taken it. Though there were no signs that another person had ever been there. He represents Photophobia.

Hugger - He said he just felt tired, and was going to take the winter months to rest. No foul play, no signs of injury, no nothing. He just appeared to have passed in his sleep. He represents Nyctophobia.

Tiger - He was found with red scratch marks all over, which were initially thought to be self inflicted. However, the cleanliness of his fingernails and the angles of the markings made it almost seem like… something was trying to escape from his own body. He represents Rhabdophobia.

Don - He and his wife, Carmen, had been out all day on a lengthy fishing trip. Even when dusk had arrived and fog had started rolling in, the couple still hadn’t returned. Their fishing boat that came floating back to shore, belongings and equipment still on it, but they were nowhere to be seen. He represents Thalassophobia.

Aran - The last his coworkers saw of him, they say he was quietly sitting on the docks with his legs hung over the water. Something he readily instructed others to never do. The very next morning, he was gone. They never found him. He represents Megalohydrothalassophobia.

Soda - When the cold months came over the town, his charming little ice cream parlor closed for the winter as he said he was going to go for a trip to the mountains. After the winter was over, with no word or sign of the man, concern also arose for him. They discovered him a while after. He was completely encased in frost despite the warmth returning. He represents Cryophobia.

Bull - The toll of the church bells at night brought a sense of dread over all that heard it. He was found knelt in a praying pose at the front of the chapel. He was already dead, clutching the jewel of the necklace he wore in his hands. He represents Theophobia.

Macho - The singer known as “Deep Blue” by his many adoring fans had a dark cloud over his head. A rumor mill had churned much devastating gossip regarding his personal life. Some even say it drove him mad. Regardless of the true motive, the performer was found with a slit throat. Some suspect it was a suicide, as the letter opener that cut his throat was in his own hand. He represents Scopophobia.

SPO:

Gabby - Even though he was getting on in years, Gabby always said that there was never a time he felt alive, even since his youthful years, due to the plethora of health issues he had developed over the course of his life ever since he was born. “I don’t recall the last time I ever felt young and spry, if I even did in the first place. So, getting old really doesn’t feel any different.” As such, it was a well known rumor that Gabby read many books to cope, to feel some kind of whimsy in his ever shortening life. He was found dead in his sleep at his desk, an open book beside him. He represents Gentrophobia.

Hurricane - A thriving meteorologist, he loved the experiences of being up in the sky on hot air balloons. On an unsuspecting day during a storm, he suddenly fell unconscious mid flight. A bolt of lightning struck the hot air balloon he was riding and sent him crashing into a building. He died on impact. He represents Astraphobia.

Bob - An impoverished homeless man, he often wandered about with cigarettes on hand. He secluded himself far away from others while he smoked. No one has a clue what really happened to him, as he was discovered lying in the mud. However, it was suspected that he had asphyxiated. He represents Homichlophobia.

Dragon - The dragon dancer troupe traveled to the town from Hong Kong during Lunar New Year. He piloted the head of the dragon during the ceremony. How sadly ironic that such misfortune followed a dance meant to bestow luck. He was discovered slumped in a chair in the dressing room made for the dancers, with the headpiece of the dragon over his body.. and his own decapitated head in his hands. He represents Atychiphobia.

Muscle - He was alone one night, and that was all that it took. He was discovered in the morning with slit wrists, surrounded by blood soaked gauze. He may have tried to save himself. He represents Hemophobia.

Heike - The once aspiring dancer faced the Constellation's wrath despite being a child himself as well. His limbs were bloody and twisted, yet he still held his signature fan in his hands, and wore his signature performing kimono. He represents Pistanthrophobia.

Clown - The circus was never the same without him. His face was painted half and half with his two circus personas: Serenata the Opera Singer, and Burlone the Jester. He represents Coulrophobia.

Narcis - For the short period of time that night, while his servants were not overseeing him, the Constellation struck. Though efforts were made to enter his bedroom as the realization dawned that he was in danger, the door did not budge until it was too late. He was found with the skin of the left half of his face completely removed. On his fractured bureau, there was a message written in his blood: “The beauty of my heart was never reflected in my face." He represents Cacophobia.

Hoy - The death of the dragon dancer deeply wounded the old man, as he was quite close to him. He died of a broken heart. (Broken Heart Syndrome) He represents Philophobia.

Rick and Nick - It seemed like death wanted to keep them together forever. They were discovered seated on chairs next to each other, their left hands sewn together. It was noted that when there was effort to cut the thread, the fingers of the brothers would twitch violently. They represent Thanatophobia.

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