#i’m not tagging the others their names are all there

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter three | formula one imagine

chapter three: home away from home

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO

despite the hefty price tag of the cat carrier, brando looks less than impressed. y/n continued to try and coax him in with a treat but the cat was suspicious to say the least.

“please get in the carrier brando,” she waved the treat in his face again, “we’re going to see max! you love max and you don’t mind kimi, yeah? remember them? we just have a short 16 hour drive because your lordship doesn’t like planes so can we please get in the carrier?”

brando bit into the treat and slowly made his way into the carrier looking sorry for himself. the biggest and final chore was now done with minimal guilt, she would take that. y/n wasn’t moving to monaco - no, she prided herself on being one of the only drivers to not make that jump, but she also didn’t exactly know when she was coming back.

there was less than a month until car launches and tests and max insisted on hosting some team-bonding sessions for her and kimi. it was probably just an excuse to see her before she is ‘tainted by mercedes’, but y/n found herself excited to see the dutchman again.

the suitcases were by the door and the plants had been watered, it was now or never. crossing the boundary of her front door, it dawned on y/n that her life was changing again. there wasn’t quite the excitement she had leading up to her first race in formula one, but she could feel the butterflies threatening to return.

the door clicked shut and the next phase started. in the lobby of her building, y/n approached the front desk.

“hi frank,” y/n said to the concierge, “i’m going away for a little while so could you keep all of my mail together for me?”

the older man smiled up at her. frank had been working at this building since y/n first moved in. he had tried to hide that he was a formula one fan but wasn’t quite successful. he had stuttered when she had turned up one evening, cap low on her head and oversized sunglasses despite the darkness.

“miss y/ln, would you like me to help you with your bags?”

y/n had frozen when frank said her name. frank had taken his hat off, trying to sort out the salt and pepper freckled hair on his head.

“i’m so sorry miss y/ln, that was unprofessional of me. as you now know, i am aware of who you are, i hope this does not make you uncomfortable. we will do anything you need to be comfortable here.”

y/n had also taken off her hat and looked frank in the eye. she deemed him sincere and allowed herself two minutes of respite from her burning anger. “no worries,” she looks down at his name tag, “frank. i would love some help, maybe on a better day i can sign something for you? other than these bags, i’d really love if this being my home was just something we keep between us.”

frank mock saluted and started grabbing bags.

“you won’t be gone forever will you, miss y/ln?” frank asked, pulling y/n back. the older man looked uncharacteristically worried.

“and miss our scintillating conversations? i would never! i assume you’ve heard i’ve taken the job with kimi? i’m going to do some ‘team-bonding’ with him in monaco and then i’ll be back”

frank took one of her suitcases, helping her to the garage.

“monaco you say? you wouldn’t be staying with the handsome dutchman by any chance,” frank said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i might be?” y/n opened the door of her pink cadillac, “was it you who let him and kimi up without my permission, frank?”

“guilty as charged ma’am, but they were there with good purpose so i just had to”

frank continued loading the car with her suitcases, opening the back door and securing brando’s carrier in place.

“he also gave me a signed pair of race gloves, sorry!”

y/n exclaimed as she shut the door of the car. “i knew he was bribing you! but yes, i guess i am glad you let them up - for now.”

frank pulled y/n in for a hug. she let it linger before clearing her throat and pulling back.

“i know i’m just an old man, but it’s nice to see you excited about something again. you came to me three years ago a broken girl with a constant face like thunder,” frank pinched her cheek, “but here you are, ready to conquer the world again. i am proud of you. but don’t get too lost in your new role to not see what’s right in front of you.”

y/n was confused. frank continued, “the crash took a lot from you, but it did not make you unloveable. give people a chance.”

the older man stepped back and gave her a wave.

“make sure you make enough stops and get some sleep, it’s a long drive to monaco. say hi to max for me.”

frank turned and made his way back into the building. y/n sighed and climbed into her car. the pink cadillac was hardly subtle but she had banished all of her other cars to a different garage three years again so it would simply have to do.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiantonelli and 11,304,788 others

yourusername: sixteen hour road trip ahead of us, i hope brando is ready to get real acquainted with taylor swift's discography

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user1: she’s so cute

user2: it’s the pink caddy!!!

user3: y/n is back in formula one and is driving the pink cadillac - never kill yourself

charles_leclerc: okay miss active on instagram

yourusername: had to come back and steal all the likes from you obviously

charles_leclerc: oh yes please remind me how you still have double the followers i do when you haven’t posted in three years?

yourusername: idk sounds like you have a skill issue to me

charles_leclerc: sixteen hours and you’re back on my stomping ground… watch it missy

yourusername: i will watch

yourusername: because i know you and you will grovel

charles_leclerc: maybe…

charles_leclerc: i’ve missed you, sue me!

yourusername: i just might!

charles_leclerc: wait-!

user4: all these reunions are making me sappy

user5: i’m stuck on the fact that y/n is driving all the way to monaco?

yourusername: brando doesn’t like flying 😕

user6: oh to be a high maintenance cat of a rich person

maxverstappen1: jimmy and sassy are eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: awwww i’ve missed them

maxverstappen1: i was talking to brando…

yourusername: rightttttt

maxverstappen1: but i am eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: as you should be

maxverstappen1: i stocked up on all your weird english biscuits and everything

yourusername: you’re too precious

user7: oh to have a bond like theirs

user8: i fear it’s a trauma bond

user9: it’s still cute!

kimiantonelli: can’t wait to get started miss y/ln

yourusername: please call me y/n kimi you’re making me feel so old

kimiantonelli: oki

kimiantonelli: miss y/ln what kind of pasta do you like

kimiantonelli: *y/n what kind of pasta do you like

olliebearman: you are such a failure omg

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the road was quiet, with taylor swift’s voice filling the silence. y/n had exhausted the conversation with brando, who was tuckered out in the backseat. by now the pair we deep into france, y/n had stopped being able to translate the road signs many miles ago.

the thought of returning to monaco was daunting. there would be ghosts around every corner and memories that y/n wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. y/n wasn’t even sure which drivers even lived in the principality any more - however, she knew that her former teammate did.

lando norris was a bit of an enigma in y/n’s life. there were early growing pains in their friendship? work relationship? but as the 2021 season rolled around, she thought they had finally been ironed out. the gap was slim, but lando had outscored her in 2020, so his ego was still intact and that made him a little more enjoyable to be around.

y/n wasn’t sure who or what had pushed lando over the edge of accepting her as a teammate and not just a mere annoyance, but january 2021 was night and day from her rookie season. y/n had a sneaking suspicion that lando had been subject of some heated PR meetings over the christmas break, but as long as she wasn’t in them, she didn’t really care.

suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere. lando spoke to her outside of meetings, in between video takes and checked in over the breaks. suddenly lando knew the name of her friends, where she had gone on holiday and her favourite food. y/n didn’t think much of it at the time. but then came everything else.

july 2021.

y/n didn’t tend to spend long on social media, why open herself up to the opinions of stupid people just because they were loud? one morning, a sunny one in monaco, y/n received a flurry of texts from her trainer luca. ripped from her yoga session on max’s balcony, y/n checked her texts.

luca: is there other strenuous activities i need to be aware of?

luca: tiktok.com/userlandonorris/reposts

luca: if this is a thing, should jon and i coordinate training plans?

huh?

y/n clicked the link and was taken to lando’s tiktok page. she felt like an old woman trying to navigate the app but finally found the reposts. the first few she saw were edits of herself? and then a couple talking about “finally being understood by that person” and some other more charged in nature.

what the fuck. there wasn’t a normal day in this team it seemed. y/n pulled back the door and went to find max. the dutchman was tucked into bed, still sore from silverstone just two weeks earlier.

“have you seen this shit?” y/n said, shoving her phone in max’s face, “i mean what does this even mean? 69? i didn’t even know lando could count that high?”

“i think he’s referencing sex, y/n”

“i know he’s referencing sex idiot! why is he referencing having sex with me?!”

“i don’t know, you’re the dumbass who joined that team - he’s probably trying to like get you on side after the shit he pulled in austria and is doing it in classic dumbass lando fashion.”

austria had been eventful. both lando and y/n had somewhat slow starts to the season, with just one podium to their names by the time they pulled up to the red bull ring. the two papaya cars lined up fourth and fifth on the grid, with y/n managing to edge in front of her teammate, which meant the two were subjected to the word teamwork 72 times in a 45 minute meeting (y/n had counted).

when the lights went out, y/n got the jump on the ferrari of sainz ahead of her, wrestling her way past the spaniard and up into third. with cleaner air, max had already wrangled a healthy three second gap back to her and was hunting down lewis, so she focused on keeping the prancing horse behind her. as they approached the steep incline, carlos jerked out to the right and tried his luck up the inside. the spaniard was heavy on his brakes, burning up his tyres as he missed the apex and shunted his front wing into y/n’s front right tyre.

the contact didn’t manage to cause a puncture or any terminal body damage, but the push had made way for carlos, lando and charles to slide past her as she strained to keep her mclaren from going into the gravel trap.

“what the hell was that?” y/n asked down the radio, keeping her eyes focused on charles’ ferrari down the road. “do i have any damage?”

“no damage that we can see. hang back for a couple of laps, the ferraris are eating their tyres and will fall back to you.” jude, her usually cool race engineer, had a bite to his voice.

taking the corner as tight as she could y/n barked back, “surely he has to give that place back? he forced me off the track?!” y/n was practically vibrating, with anger or from the force on her tyres, she wasn’t sure yet. “just keep your head down, we’ll get back to you,” hugo replied.

the ferrari of charles was getting further and further down the road. “hugo their tyres aren’t falling off, can i hunt them down yet? what about this penalty?” it was like talking to a brick wall as the pit wall didn’t reply. y/n bit down the urge to swear up a storm and put her foot down with renewed vigour.

by the next lap y/n had managed to battle her way into charles’ drs and was priming her tyres for a late move further down the track. charles tried to cut off the slip stream and predict which side y/n might choose, but it wasn’t enough as the mclaren breezed past charles before they even hit the apex.

unbeknownst to y/n the silence from hugo was indicative of the larger argument happening on the pit wall. despite putting massive flatspots on his tyres, lando had yet to make his way past sainz’s ferrari. will, lando’s race engineer, was deep in discussion with him over the radio (which would’ve made quite entertaining viewing for y/n after the fact if it didn’t concern her so deeply).

“lando we are confident that sainz will get a penalty. y/n has cleared charles, we need you to back sainz into y/n so she can overtake. when she does we want you to give the position back.”

and if that wasn’t the sentence that summoned the shitstorm.

“why should i give the position back? i did nothing wrong?”

lando kept his foot down and increased the gap between himself and sainz. will’s voice rang out on the radio again,

“lando. sainz pushed y/n off track and you all gained positions, the right thing to do is to give the position back.”

that was a red flag to a raging lando. he let off a spiel that had made the post-race debrief and all media duties torture for the pair of them.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

there was silence on the mclaren radio for a few moments. there was even silence on the broadcasts. no one quite knew what to say to that.

y/n had closed in on sainz, hundredths away from being in the spaniard’s drs range. her radio finally crackled back to life, “y/n you have full permission to use your tyres, we aim to pit soon. you are free to race with lando.”

excuse me? on one hand y/n was glad, there had been a couple awkward moments already this season where she had been told to hold position and not fight. however, that was her position, lost through no fault of her own?

“i am free to race? he should give me that position!”

“you are free to race. head down and clear sainz before we discuss again.”

this was bullshit. she knew it, hugo knew it, zak brown knew it, the broadcast team knew it and deep down lando knew it too. sainz was an easy pass for y/n in the end as she pipped him on the start finish straight. lando had a three second advantage which meant that y/n had some free air to cool down her tyres and get ready to fight her teammate. she would be clean but she was finishing on that podium whether he liked it or not.

within two laps y/n had completely dropped sainz and was breathing down the neck of lando. she was within his drs range as they rounded the final corner but before she could launch an attack lando swerved into the pit lane. that was an early stop? y/n quietly thought to herself that it seemed all too convenient that he was called into pit just as she was about to catch him… not that it really bothered her all too much, the over cut was more powerful at austria, so if she kept her good pace, she should come back out in front of her teammate.

many laps later and a late pit stop for y/n, the younger mclaren driver proudly picked up her second podium of the season. she hauled herself out of the car in parc ferme and immediately embraced max who had once again managed to win his quasi home race, catching lewis with ten laps to go.

once she had been weighed, y/n made her way to the interviews, glad to see it would be jenson conducting them - he always gave her nice questions.

“up first we have our third place finisher, the incomparable y/n y/ln! what a stint on those mediums, i thought for a second you were going to go all the way on them!” jenson said with a wide grin.

“thank you jenson! yeah… after the first lap i thought my race was pretty screwed… the fia took their time with carlos’ penalty so i had to regain my positions myself… but i think all in all it was a good race i’m glad to being going into my home race on the high of a podium and i’ll be looking to do even better there!”

jenson smiled at her but started to pick at his nails, a telltale sign he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to ask. “not to bring you down after a great race, but i must ask, what do you make of lando’s comments on the radio?”

y/n was puzzled, and her face showed that much. she started stuttering and shrugging. one of the production assistants behind jenson passed her a phone and pressed play. y/n held the phone up to her ear and felt the words rush over her.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

oh. okay. y/n knew she needed to take a couple breaths before she responded or she would say something she would regret. people would probably forget about lando’s comments by next week but if she said something like that she’d be stuck with the brat label for the rest of her career.

“that’s disappointing for sure to hear. third and fourth is a good result for the team and it ended how it should’ve. we’ll discuss this with the team but for right now i’m going to celebrate my podium and drink some champagne!”

jenson gave her a nod to say she did well and beckoned over lewis. y/n walked back to the side of the podium pen and slid in next to max.

“who the fuck does he think he is saying that? i’m being serious, someones got to knock some sense into him,” max said under his breath, aware cameras were still on them.

“i know, it’s bullshit, but i doubt they’ll say anything severe to him.”

just as y/n was making peace with the fact there would be no severe consequences for lando, her and max turned to see the man himself in the media pen. intrigued, both listened in on his interview.

“it sounds bad on the radio, yes. but i stand by the message, maybe not the delivery. this is formula one and y/n needs to know that you can’t just bat your eyelashes and be let by.” lando’s PR handler cuts the interview there and drags him back towards the mclaren garage, barely concealing her anger on her face.

“well, well, well.”

max groaned from under the blanket he had wrapped over his head, snapping y/n out of it.

“yes he was a massive knob in austria, as per usual, but i don’t understand how implying he’s sleeping with me makes it any better? it makes it look so much worse!”

“can you stop bothering me about it i think you just retriggered my concussion.”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, max,” y/n said and then her phone chimed, “speak of the devil, he’s asked if we can go for some lunch to ‘discuss the season’ whatever the fuck that means”

“good leave me alone”

“we’re going to luigi’s do you want me to get you some carpaccio to go?”

“i actually take it back, i love you - yes.”

y/n refilled his water and got his painkillers from the kitchen before she slipped on her shoes and made her way out of the complex. this is what was confusing about lando. he was more than happy to berate her on the radio but then would set up meetings like this like nothing had happened. usually y/n could write it off as a heat of the moment thing - she had once called mick an ‘incompetent cunt with shit hair’ on the radio so she definitely understood it. but it never stopped there, media duties were the death of lando and y/n was interested to see how he aimed to worm his way out of this one.

luigi’s was surprisingly busy for a tuesday afternoon but y/n spotted lando easily with his big jumper in the july heat. lando didn’t stand up to greet her so y/n just sat down as soon as she got to the table.

“do you know what you want to order?” lando snapped the menu shut and looked over to her.

“i’m doing well lando, thanks for asking,” y/n muttered sarcastically, “i’m just going to get some of the salmon, it’s good here.”

the waiter turned up just as she put the menu down and y/n ordered the salmon, a juice and the carpaccio to go. lando had ordered some chicken salad and a water. once the waiter had left he hissed at y/n, “did you order that on purpose?”

“what?”

“the salmon.”

“are you allergic or?”

“no?”

“then what’s the big deal? i like salmon, it’s good for you.”

“i hate fish. everyone knows i hate fish. i invited you here to sort things out and you’re already starting with the mind games.”

y/n’s mouth fell open. he was actually being serious.

“you know not everything is about you right? salmon is in my meal plan and they cook it nicely here. i don’t think about you in everything i do.”

lando huffed, whispering a ‘that i’m sure of’ to himself. this was so childish, and y/n was very to let lando know that. “do you want to repeat yourself lando? or are you going to continue to be a child?”

lando was taken aback, “me being a child? says you! i wanted to talk this out after silverstone like we planned? you were going to come to see my family and everything. they were so excited to meet you, especially my sisters. but no, you let me, let us down!”

y/n actually laughed in disbelief. “i told you i was sorry about silverstone and i was, but max needed me and in that moment he was who i had to be with.”

“it’s always max, isn’t it?”

“he was airlifted to the hospital lando, i’m sure he would’ve preferred me hang out with your family than have to do that again.”

lando had started to rip apart the napkins, a sign he was desperately trying to regulate himself.

“you always choose him! you choose him then, you only stay at his when you’re in monaco - you’re even picking up food for him on our date!”

“our date? are you kidding me? i’m going to ignore that,” y/n took a sip of water,” and for max? i care about him deeply and he was in hospital after a very dangerous crash!”

“then why don’t you care about me? huh?” lando was getting choked up, “you’ve never been there for me when i’ve crashed?”

now y/n was even more confused. lando had wanted her to be there for him when he had crashed but also couldn’t stand to be around her longer than necessary until this season. this boy was such a headfuck.

“you fucking hated me last season lando. and the way you’re acting here and how you acted in austria don’t really tell me that you like me any more.”

lando huffed and crossed his arms like a child. y/n continued, “this is what i don’t get with you. you can’t stand me all last season, literally refusing to call me by my name, only calling me rookie and running from meetings as soon as you can but now, now! i need to be there for your every need. now you can repost dumb tiktoks and fuel rumours about us?”

“they told me we needed to look closer!”

“so you decided to tell the world we’re fucking?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“you basically did, i saw the reposts. and for your information i would never fuck you in a million years.”

“no, that’s for max only isn’t it?”

“what is you people’s fucking obsession with thinking i am sleeping with someone on the grid? is it that inconceivable that i might be able to exist around my fellow drivers without trying to sleep with them?”

“well you should stop acting like you are then!”

y/n stood up abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor. she hastily grabbed her stuff and slotted her sunglasses back.

“you can send me what i owe for the lunch, i don’t feel like sitting here and being berated because you can’t handle this season. you know who actually has something to be stressed about, the guy actually in the title battle, who is in bed still recovering from a crash. so goodbye lando, i’m going to go take care of my friend who actually cares about me and can talk to me without belittling me.”

she sweeped out of the restaurant, the waiter at the entrance saw her coming and passed her the carpaccio. the heat of monaco was sweltering but the drama between her and her teammate was heating up even more.

present.

y/n was still none the wiser about how she felt about lando, even all these years later. something inside of her wanted to reach out to him, reassure him that he was good enough, especially after how 2024 had panned out, but then the memories of their time together at mclaren come flooding back and she feels content with her silence.

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and charles leclerc (italics)

little birdy told me you’re back in monaco

by little birdy i mean your instagram post

omg have you considered a career switch to being a detective?

you’re mean

anyway!

cocktail night at mine tonight

i guess you can bring your losers too

yes that includes ollie before kimi asks

wow that’s a big assumption that i’m going to say yes

drinking on my dime? when have you ever said no?

you have a good point

i’ll be there at 8 - losers in tow

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“we get to go to a cocktail night at charles? oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

kimi squealed down the phone to y/n, “hold on let me tell ollie, we’ve got to get ready!”

y/n could hear him shuffling through their shared flat, “it doesn’t start for another like three hours kimi!”

the two boys had started excitedly discussing outfits and which cocktails are the ‘cool’ ones.

“we’ll swing by yours at 7:45, be ready we won’t wait.”

y/n hung up and turned to max smiling, they were so cute. the two of them had been curled up on the couch with the cats for the majority of the afternoon as y/n was catching up on sleep. the brit turned to max,

“oh i forgot to tell you,” max perked up, “guess who came to my apartment after the GQ thing?”

max shrugged, throwing a toy for jimmy.

“lewis.”

“hamilton?”

“yeah!”

max’s eyes sharpened, “why would he be at yours?”

“wouldn’t you know? you’re the one who gave him my address,” y/n replied, trying to make eye contact with max who was avoiding her gaze.

“yeah i thought he was going to send you like condolence flowers or something not show up unannounced?”

both of them had sat up at this point. brando was sat between them, looking between them confused.

“he showed up and complimented my dress. i asked him if he was sad he missed me at mercedes and he like proper leaned in and asked what i could possibly teach him? kissed my hand and left. it was weird.”

y/n laughed as she recounted the story but max wasn’t laughing.

“it’s funny max, you’re meant to laugh.”

max forces out a sarcastic laugh.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing. i just think it’s weird. food for thought.”

“don’t worry he won’t replace you. you’ll always be my favourite.”

max smiled at that. he piled on top of her, with brando squished in the middle.

“you’ll always stay at mine in monaco right? i’ll always be your best friend on the grid?”

“always,” y/n said, tucking one of max’s hairs behind his ear, “beside where else would i stay? in kimi and ollie’s bachelor pad? i’d rather die”

max let out a laugh and let his head fall on y/n’s chest, her hands immediately tangling in his hair.

“i’m sorry for that. i just love you and our bond, i get jealous that mr seven titles might steal you away.”

“away from you? they’d have to take me kicking and screaming. you’re the only one who had my address, you’re the only one i spoke to in the three years. don’t think i’ll ever not have you first.”

the cocktail party was nearing, but the pair were content to stay tangled on the couch, with a grumpy brando tucked in between them. outside of the apartment, the ghosts of monaco still lingered. maybe it was a good thing charles had a weird obsession with cocktails and his at home bar, y/n could use some liquid courage tonight.

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charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,304,667 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been three years and she still can’t mix drinks.

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user1: war is officially over

user2: i hope nothing bad happened between them but it is stuck in my mind that they didn’t talk in the three years

user3: i’m hoping she just flat out wasn’t speaking to anyone but max and charles did nothing bad

user4: his tribute post is still up which others can’t say so

kimiantonelli: i think her drinks are just right!

yourusername: i think we’re gonna work so well together

kimiantonelli: i think so toooooooooo

olliebearman: he’s just really drunk?

yourusername: so he’s not always like this?

olliebearman: loud? not really. but hanging off every word you say? yeah that’s pretty normal

user5: oh how i’ve missed my beautiful wife

user6: lando’s beautiful wife

user7: nuh uh george’s

user8: what about the guy who actually posted it

user9: i actually think you all should kill yourselves!

yourusername: i’m really not that bad you just have bad tolerance

charles_leclerc: i have measuring tools right there and you insist on doing the ‘y/n pour’

yourusername: does the ‘y/n pour’ get the party started or not?

pierregasly: yes because everyone is pissed by 9pm

yourusername: is that not the aim of a party

charles_leclerc: this is a sophisticated soiree - i even bought olives for this

yourusername: oh please

maxverstappen1: i think it would be funnier to watch everyone drunk stumbling around y/n

charles_leclerc: okay well we’d all be a bit more chill if you didn’t gatekeep her for three years

maxverstappen1: don’t care 😛

user10: max is the level of unbothered i need to be right now

user11: he’s on necks even in the off season

user12: so who else is to come?

user13: please please please let the brits be there i need my dose of y/nlando

user14: they're meant to be i swear

user15: oh my sweet summer child

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: enjoy my quick updates while you can i am back at my big girl job tomorrow :((((( but i will try to keep up with this pace where i can!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn

[checkeredflagggs]

Unsolved

Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader

summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker

a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!

a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if they’re actually real

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others

scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fans’ questions!

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user1: god do they look good

↳user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww

↳user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl

user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point

↳user4: god can we get charles to take notes???

↳arthur_leclerc: it wouldn’t help

↳charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook

↳arthur_leclerc: you can’t

↳user4: we saw that pasta video…unless you’ve gotten vastly better no you can’t

user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh

↳user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now

↳user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them

↳user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill

user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?

↳user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!

↳user8: can you blame him? They’re hot af

user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate

↳user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???

↳arthur_leclerc: 😆😆😆😆

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others

unsolved: Let’s talk death and disappearances this month — three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, …more

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user11: chilling…

user12: ok but why do they match so well��did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?

user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi

↳user13: wait what???

maxverstappen1: good stuff 👍🏻

↳user14: what in the earth is this crossover???

↳user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??

↳charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT

↳unsolved: shame 😞

↳charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They don’t.

↳pierregasly: 😂😂

↳user16: what in the world…

oscarpiastri: interesting, interesting…

↳charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳oscarpiastri: that’s no way to speak to your son…

↳user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???

↳unsolved: that’s what we would like to know as well…

↳charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!

Private Emails

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others

tagged: unsolved

scuderiaferrari: COTA here we come…with a mysterious guest!

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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???

↳user19: they did! I bet it’s gonna be a really interesting race…

charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!

↳user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??

↳arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!

this comment was deleted

↳carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars

this comment was deleted

↳pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea

this comment was deleted

↳maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him 😂

this comment was deleted

user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You don’t understand my NEED for this to happen

↳user21: god I’m just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!

↳user22: sorry but can you explain? I’m new to unsolved and am working backwards!

↳user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)

↳user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!

↳user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!

↳user22: oh! That’s so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places — maybe they’ll do it again here!

unsolved has posted 3 stories

[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]

user23 replied I’m so excited!

scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!

↳unsolved thanks for setting this up!

↳unsolved I’m very excited!

user24 replied oh my god that’s such a pretty photo!

user25 replied go get your man

↳unsolved whaat??

↳user25 oh my god you don’t know??

↳unsolved ???

↳user25 oh this is gonna be funny af

scuderiaferrari replied …you’ll have both our drivers back in one piece right??

↳unsolved of course!

charles_leclerc replied that’s…that’s where we are staying??

↳unsolved yup!

Bluesky

Bluesky

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths

unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name was…Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!

view all comments

user26: spooky…

↳user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick succession…

oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night

↳charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever

↳unsolved: I’m pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrong…

↳charles_leclerc: you don’t ☺️☺️☺️

↳maxverstappen1: ohhh share?

↳unsolved: that’s no footage I guess

↳pierregasly: shame

↳charles_leclerc: thank you 😊

↳user19: hmmmmm user53??

↳user53: i see it. I see it

arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???

↳unsolved: all of them!

↳charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 🥹🥹

↳unsolved: sorry just one!

↳carlossainz55: compañero?

↳charles_leclerc: just 1!!!

↳unsolved: sorry 🤗

↳user19: hmmmmm

↳user53: adding it to the folder now

user28: that was such a fun episode!

↳spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!

↳user28: I’m sitting. I’m sat. I’m ready.

sebastionvettel: never thought I’d see the day after that incident in 2019

↳landonorris: share!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean the inchident

↳maxverstappen1: another inchident??

↳carlossainz55: it was for a love interest

this comment was deleted

↳charles_leclerc: this time it won’t be just an inchident

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari: And that’s our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!

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yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

↳charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?

user29: man he moves fast

↳charles_leclerc: very fast!

↳charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!

↳user29: oh my god im so jealous right now

↳yourprivate: 🤭🤭🤭

carlossainz55: congrats mate!

↳charles_leclerc: you too!

↳charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!

↳carlossainz55: shush!

↳user30: oh??? user19, user53???

↳user19: …I’m on it

↳user53: I’ll start the coffee

↳user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????

↳user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA

↳user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge — failed

pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out

↳charles_leclerc: stop. talking.

↳yourprivate: awww were you nervous?

↳pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?

↳pierregasly: yes

↳charles_leclerc: im going to run you over 😄

↳scuderiaferrari: you can’t actually say that Charles!

↳charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁

↳pierregasly: …I don’t like that emoji calmar

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

user33: the way he sprinted over to her…

↳user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now

↳yourprivate: ehehehehehe

↳user34: ok no need to rub it our faces

↳yourprivate: why wouldn’t I?

↳charles_leclerc: 🥰🥰🥰🥰

↳yourprivate: 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳user34: right in front of my salad???

user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonight…

↳user36: sleepover!

[randum-famdoms]

Prev’s tags are too interesting to lose

Also it’s not just tv; it’s movies too I think. Live action American sci-fi/action movies to be specific. I can only think of a couple made since streaming got big that I felt like I actually knew who the characters were, and liked them, and felt like they actually cared about each other. Other genres have this problem too (comedy comes to mind), but none so extreme as in action and sci-fi. Feels like lately it’s all just rewrites of the same script but with different set dressing and they forget that you also have to have characters, not just a half a concept and a tired plot with cgi sprinkles.

I know the characters’ names and maybe a motive if I’m lucky and that’s it. Then one of em dies or is kidnapped or whatever and the other characters are so heartbroken and like… did they even know each other? Cause they met like a day ago and haven’t had a single conversation longer than a couple minutes, and they only talked about Plot Things.

There are some standouts obviously, The Equaliser series comes to mind, but it’s the exception, not the norm

I don't know what those '90s sci Fi TV writers were putting in their shows but I wish they'd start doing it again

[ribbonskiss]

THE LEANOVER → OP81

Part 2 of 2. Read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: You come home on uni break to find your brother’s best friend, Oscar, is visiting. You both fall back into old habits, but some things are not the same.

Tags: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, slow burn, SMUT (18+), masturbation, Jack Doohan is from Melbourne in this one for logistical reasons, not proofread at all hah

A/N: finally!!! The end of The Leanover!!!! Sorry for the extended deadline, this one turned out chunkier than I expected and honestly I don’t know if I’m quite satisfied with it but it is what it is. Anyway, enjoy!

Oscar is a handsome boy. This is a fact you find to be so uncontroversial it may as well be accepted as a universal truth. There has never been a time where girls did not whisper amongst themselves when he would enter a room, where the mothers of his friends would not rave with great emphasis to his about how strong and handsome he’d become, where his presence at a function did not brighten up the place, because not only is he handsome, he is beautiful. Beautiful people are magnetic, you think; their beauty lies in their nature, their fundamental quality of supernatural grace, a gift bestowed by the forces that be towards the lucky few.

You recall his last year of high school. You were sixteen, still growing into your body and learning how to use a felt-tip eyeliner pen. Teenagers are fascistic about social hierarchy; they are greatly cognisant of their standings in the high school pecking order, intensely anal about preserving the rigidity of the structure, and thus you had long accepted your status as the forgotten sibling. Oscar and your brother were athletes, students with clout attached to their names; you were awkward, unaware of your own intensity, intimidating to a fault, but more than happy to lay low. Two individuals of such different standings in the social order should never interact—but for the first (and only) time you were now going to the same house parties and birthday bashes, and here was the greatest display of Oscar’s beauty. You can never forget that image: the figure of him standing on the other side of the room, so broad-shouldered and trim, freckles of sun damage littered over his skin all the way down his neck like constellations, his head turned away from you to reveal his chiselled jaw as he speaks to someone while holding a can of Reschs. And suddenly his eyes would meet yours, catching you in the act, and he’d give you a gentle smile.

You were always so grateful for this. So grateful he would look your way and beam so brightly, a glimpse of his inner calmness, his quiet gentle bliss. You were never under the impression you were the only one to be so blessed by his grace; you were just happy to be around him. Sometimes when he would come over, sprawl himself over your couch or lay on the floor, pissing himself laughing at your brother’s antics into the late hours of the night, you’d ask yourself whether you should feel guilty for being the only witness to this part of his life. This secret of his: that Oscar is so much more beautiful than most people will ever know. Not his fans, not his colleagues, not the majority of the world. This is between you and him.

And now you have him all to yourself. A bit greedy, isn’t it? The past week you’ve spent together has been nothing short of lovely. You find out that he’s strangely disciplined. Oscar’s a dutiful housemate, doing the chores you even forget about without the need to be prompted, unlike most guys his age. He likes to hum to himself when he’s got the vacuum going and he thinks you can’t hear him butcher the tune of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel. He’s a good cook who prefers careful measurement over eyeballing. He doesn’t read books like you do, but he’s happy to lie on the couch all day and watch a show with you on the telly. And he’s surprisingly touchy—he seems most pleased when you’re both on the couch, your legs crossed and stretched out, resting on top of his, his hand on your foot, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You don’t speak during these moments. Nothing needs to be said; things just sort themselves out.

At some point in the afternoon you get tired, yawning to yourself, and without even needing to look at you Oscar reaches over, tugs at your arm to tell you wordlessly to turn around. You oblige; your head against his chest, his fingers trail up your forearm to your shoulders and, eventually, the back of your neck, smoothing over the soft, fine hairs that reside there. You’re too tired to mind the goosebumps the feeling of his fingertips on your skin gives you, or the increasing thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat underneath you. You shift in his arms, folding your legs up in a way that makes the hem of your shorts ride up, exposing the curve of your thighs all the way up towards the swell of your—well… It would be so uncouth for him to look there.

It never occurs to either of you that the hardest part of the process is done. The feeling returns: the feeling that arises in you when he looked at you from across the room at those parties all those years ago. The feeling of knowing that person so incredibly well. Of sharing a secret together, and letting that secret grow bigger and bigger until it takes on a life of its own. Of sharing that life together. These things do just sort themselves out, but you would never know until you speak of it.

You are growing increasingly needy. There’s no other way to put it. You’re fucking dying. The heat of the dry, punishing Australian summer is starting to get to you, even with how skimpy your attire has gotten, and having him around twenty-four seven is starting to feel more like divine punishment than intervention. You were wrong all along: Oscar is not an angel, but a demon sent to terrorise you all your life until you give in and the Devil can steal your soul for all of eternity.

He works out every other day. That’s at least three days where he’ll disappear into another room in the afternoon for hours, slips right out just to slip into the bathroom, and then waltz back into the living room as if nothing has happened. But something has happened.

Oscar has a very basic wardrobe at home. He likes his soft, mild colours—dark greys and soft whites, beige tones, navy and olives… It’s very on brand for him, yes. And here he is again, today, emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him out the door as he runs a hand through his slightly damp hair. He’s wearing a crisp heather grey t-shirt, fresh from the pile of laundry you’d folded yesterday. The sleeves can barely withstand the size of his biceps; he’s just gotten new dumbbells in. And god, the smell of his skin, the musk of him mixed with the soft clean scent of soap still radiating off of him. It’s like crisp hot white bedsheets, fresh out the dryer, already crumpling under the weight of two lovers, bodies sticky from tangling into each other; like soft detergent left out in the garden, where the grass is freshly cut, and the warm sun hits your skin.

This is as close to a primal urge as it will ever get for you. The first few times you could just tell yourself to look away, but now the smell of him is unavoidable, overwhelms your senses, and lights your entire body on fire. You stick your nose into your book the entire time and pray he goes away. Oscar retreats into the kitchen and wonders if your book is really so good that you’d be that engrossed by it. He’ll have to start reading again soon.

“The worst thing a woman can do,” you say, hand in the air with great feeling, “is be cut down in her prime by a man.”

Three beers in and you’re starting up your great tirade already. Oscar watches with an amused smile as he sits on the grass, green Peroni bottle in hand. “I know it sounds so pathetic and untrue, but it is true,” you continue, pacing back and forth with a giggle. “It’s true! I’m so much better off now. No offence, Osc, you’re one of the good ones.”

“I’m very flattered.”

“You should be,” you nod.

He reaches over and grabs a fresh beer from the esky, flicks the cap off with the belt he’s taken off, and hands it to you. You thank him; “just trying to stay in your good graces, missy,” he chuckles.

You sigh, taking a swig of it as you look up to the sky. “Frankly, I’m glad that part of my life is over already,” you say. “I���m not happy to admit it, but for a long time, I had just thought of myself as undesirable. Invisible.”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows with great concern, an ocean tide of emotion threatening to wash over him. “Impossible.”

“Possible,” you nod, with a bitter smile that’s less regretful than accepting of your past. “You know. Surely you remember.”

Of course he does. He remembers every little thing, because they’re not little to him. He remembers it all, how he’d scare off sleazy, drunken boys from approaching you at parties. Even after he graduated, the threat remained: you mess with her, you mess with Oscar Piastri, the F1 big shot. Boys never looked your way because of that; he used to hold you by the end of the party, sitting on the porch of whatever house you’re at, you latching onto him in your drunken half-slumber, both of you silently wallowing in your desires. Drowning, suffocating in each other’s warmth. Then he’d stay over at your house and wait until your brother fell asleep to press his ear against the wall, listening to your muffled sobbing. You were always too eager to suffer alone, to make a martyr of yourself and accept the cards you had been dealt.

But you stand tall now, a soft smile on your face suggesting a great deal of growth. It’s what he’s always found so beautiful in you. Beauty, he thinks, lies in the spirit, an ability to have infinite love and bliss in the face of the frustrations of one’s life. You are a complete soul, whole in ways he may never be, capable of learning to love over and over again and of light-heartedness in the face of turmoil. He knows he cannot truly achieve this because you are his Achilles’ heal. He cannot bear to think of you off on your own without him, doing things with other slimy ratty boys, going places he may never know of. Having a life without him in it. Oscar frowns; had he been too selfish in denying you all your opportunities? You had graduated high school without losing your virginity, without ever being in a relationship, and he wasn’t sure your first kiss would even count as a kiss. He can’t imagine how much that must’ve crushed you—and he was away, far away on his stupid little racing circuits instead of being at home, comforting you, as he should’ve been.

You wave it all off, as if you could hear his thoughts. “Well, I’ve done all of it now anyway, and I’m happy to report that it’s not for me.”

He cocks up an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘it,’ Tiny?”

“The hookup thing,” you shrug.

Oscar’s chest feels like it could explode; cold flashes wash all over him. “Oh?”

You playfully shush him. “Don’t tell my family, okay?” you chuckle. “But, yes. I tried it. It was good, until it wasn’t. Very quickly I realised I’m kinda, like, spiritually forty. I need to stretch in the mornings and tuck in by eleven.”

“And kick-ons aren’t until at least one,” he tuts. “You’re always been a sleepy girl.”

“That is true,” you nod, taking another sip of your Peroni. “Anyway, it was worth it, at the very least just to get it all out of my system. I’m very comfortably single now.”

The sky is darker than it should be. The sun has already tucked itself away, and it’s not even evening time yet. “You know, it’s so cliché,” you continue. “That Sally Rooney quote, it’s just like that. I went to uni and got pretty. And all of a sudden men saw me—I mean, I was pretty much invisible before. Before in school, when you and my brother were still around, guys used to do this stupid, horrible thing where they wouldn’t speak to me, they’d just speak to you instead. Even when the topic was about me. Well, no one knows I grew up with Oscar Piastri when I’m at ANU. I’m just me, and I’ve got a nice haircut and a decent rack of tits. And they see me, they see me now and I realise now that they’re all just sort of stupid. I’m very sorry, Oscar, but boys are stupid.”

“No need to apologise,” he snickers softly. It makes you smile a little wider. “But surely they were not all so bad?”

“No, I really don’t know how to pick ‘em. They really were all that bad,” you chuckle, eyes creasing as your cheeks push up in laughter. “Think the best one might’ve been the guy I lost my virginity to.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He hums, pretends to be normal about it. “Tell me more,” he says.

You nod and oblige. “It was early in the school year. I went on four dates with him,” you start. “He seemed right on paper. Double major, worked for a diplomat, spoke two languages and was well-travelled. Maybe a bit pedestrian in his taste in music and films, but it didn’t bother me so much. We talked okay. He knew what to do, how to be courteous, held doors open and shit—I didn’t know what the whole dating thing was meant to be like, and I was easily impressed. He took me back to his after the fourth date and we listened to his vinyls: corny 70s Greatest Hit compilations and his favourite Kanye albums.”

You take a break, pulling out a thing of lip balm and unscrewing the cap before squeezing it out. “He told me he used to take ballroom lessons for some weird high school thing he did, and he twirled me in his arms, and it made me feel so light and small and girlish that I felt like I was floating.” Your finger spreads the balm over your lips, the feeling cool and tingly on your skin. “He told me I was funny. He kissed me, and his stubble was so sharp and gritty against my skin that it gave me traction acne the day after. He held my hand the whole time. He was an awful kisser. Just kept jamming his tongue in. But it was sweet enough. No one’s first time is good, anyway.”

Oscar tries to swallows down the lump stuck in his throat. His fingers and toes are tingling, chest tight and contracting still. You take another swig. “I’ve had too many of these,” you say.

“You’ve had three, Tiny.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” you shrug, yawning as you set the bottle down on the wooden table outside in your garden. “I think I’d better fuck off to bed now. Sleep tight, Osc.”

He doesn’t sleep in your brother’s bed that night. No, he takes out the spare mattress again and drapes the spare velvet blanket over himself, because he could never forgive himself if he jerked off in his best friend’s bed to the thought of his best friend’s sister. No, there would be no good excuse for that, but tonight is one of those nights where a man simply cannot hold himself back anymore. The alcohol is still burning in his stomach; when Oscar shuts his eyes, all he can see is these elaborate images crafted by his mind’s eye of you, placed in all the scenarios you’d described to him, only replacing that dirty fucker was him, being so gentle and delicate and loving, just how you deserve it. It should have been him there instead to do it all right; it is true that losing one’s virginity is often an awkward affair, his own experience was no less lousy, but if anyone were to have a perfect instance of it it should be you. Oscar can see it all now, how he’d go about it. Holding onto your soft curves as he pushes himself in slowly, the little gasps that would escape your honey-sweet mouth, so warm and wet on his lips. He would die happy, he thinks to himself, as his hand roughly palms his length, hair dampening from sweat in the blistering summer night heat. Cicadas sing outside his window; he heaves wildly, chest rising and falling dramatically as his hand gets slicker with each stroke. He had no idea he could even leak that much.

Thank god you’re sound asleep. He grips tightly onto the soft blanket, balling it in his fist as his eyes shut again tightly, the guttural noise he lets out much louder than he intended. Then Oscar collapses; his limbs go slack, heart beating out of his chest still as he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, hand now sticky with his spent. The mattress is damp with his sweat. If he wasn’t before, he’s royally fucked now.

Your parents called; they’ll be home on Christmas Eve, but only in the afternoon, and they’re picking your brother up as well. Which means the two of you have some shopping to do; the house should be looking festive in time for their arrival. Oscar pushes the shopping cart, following you deep into the maze that is Kmart. He helps you haul the Christmas tree box in and out of his car. And he watches as you pull its branches down, giving it shape before littering it with baubles and tinsel. And when it comes time to finish the tree, you look him with bright eyes. He smiled at you, takes the Angel Gabriel out of your hands and places it on top of the tree carefully. You put on your silly little Santa hats and poorly bake gingerbread men.

You never end up throwing the rager Oscar jokingly suggested, but you do hold a small get-together after running into some old schoolmates at the shops. So it turns out that a few girls you used to do drama class with are in town, and of course anyone Oscar invites is going to show up—he’s Oscar fucking Piastri—so here you are, with a decent turnout of people currently congregated in the back garden and the living room. You’re thankful enough of them showed up on such short notice, with Christmas Eve only a few days away, and you’re thankful everyone seems to have gotten more civil and mature since you’ve left school.

The doorbell rings more than once, and you peel yourself off of the couch to go answer it, Balter tinnie in hand now that you’re all out of Peronis. Your eyes widen once you fling the door open, revealing a familiar face, standing with a smile on his face and a couple guys behind him.

“Surprise,” Jack chuckles.

“Doohan in the flesh,” you quip with a smile. “You cheeky boy. Since when were you in town?”

“Since yesterday,” he shrugs, and the guys behind him file past you into the house at the sight of some of their mates. “Heard you were throwing a thing with Big Shot Oscar. Hope you don’t mind that I’m crashing—I come bearing gifts.”

You shake your head. “Of course not, no, I’m glad to see you,” you say, though you sigh at the sight of the twelve-pack he’s got in his hands. “Mate, Strong Zero? It’s not that kind of party.”

“Some of us can handle our liquor,” Jack laughs, putting the pack in your arms before smoothing his hair back. “Don’t spoil the fun for the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes, turning your back to him as you walk down the hallway back to the kitchen. “Congratulations, by the way,” I say. “I’m glad to see two of our finest graduates succeeding.”

“I can tell. You’re beaming, clearly,” he jokes, following you in. “It was never in doubt for Oscar, anyway, so I think I deserve a bigger congratulations for making it, no?”

You peel apart the drink packaging, the tins of drink coming loose on the kitchen counter. “Let me get this straight: you want me to be more proud of you for being a worse driver than Oscar?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m just repeating your words, Jack-Jack.”

“Never said I was a worse driver,” he snickers, shaking his head as he folds his arms over his chest. “You snuck that in yourself. But I always knew you were biased, so I won’t take offence to that, Tiny.”

You turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. Dramatically, he throws his hands up in a display of surrender, but your conversation is cut short.

“Well, well, well,” Oscar grins, strolling into the kitchen and approaching Jack with wide arms. “Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver.”

“Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver,” Doohan beams, dapping Oscar up before pulling him into a hug. “How you been, mate, good?”

“Nah, yeah,” Oscar chuckles, glancing back to you with a smile. “It’s been a splendid break for me. You been good? Didn’t realise you were back.”

“Yeah, just landed yesterday,” Jack nods, a hand on the back of his neck. “Heard you two were doing a thing, thought I’d be jet lagged out of my mind but nah. Wouldn’t miss this.”

You notice Jack’s a little taller than Oscar, who’s having to tilt his head up a little. “Appreciate you showing up, mate,” the older one says. “I’m gonna go catch up with some of your mates, but stick around, yeah?”

“Absolutely, man,” the younger one says with a smile. “Good seeing you again.”

Then Oscar leaves, fingers gliding over the skin of your cheek in passing, a gentle action of tenderness, as if to say goodbye wordlessly. Doohan wiggles his eyebrows. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” you exclaim, eyes avoiding his gaze as you snatch a Strong Zero for yourself.

“That,” he presses on, finger extended now to point to where Oscar had put his hand on your cheek. “The little hand-cheek-look thing. The fuck? Do you have something to tell me, pal?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please mate, just be normal—”

“Don’t gaslight me,” Jack says, as stern as he can be.

“He’s been living in my home!” you gasp. “Of course we’re a little close!”

“Living in your home—”

“Not by choice,” you roll your eyes. “Just—my family’s all out of town right now. He’s kind of all I have at the moment.”

“Agh!” Jack groans, smacking himself on the forehead. “Genius move. Fuck, I should’ve locked you two in a room myself years ago—”

You put the tin back onto the counter and slowly turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

He frowns. “Oh, man,” he pouts. “You don’t mean to tell me you two are still doing the thing?”

“What thing?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“You know, the thing,” he says, eyes innocent and wide as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The weird game you two play. I thought you guys would have gotten over it already.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, making you stammer and go red in the face as your confusion worsens. Jack notices this. “What, you really don’t know?”

“No, Jack, I do not,” you manage to breathe out. “Please, enlighten me.”

He shakes his head, lets out a strange chuckle as he leans back against the wall, having taken a tinnie off the counter. “This would be funny if it weren’t so tragic,” he starts, grimacing. “Oscar used to push guys on the soccer team around for talking about you. He’d go silent whenever you were around and get clammy in the hands. He got weird whenever he’d even hear your name. And I’m sure I don’t have to list out your incriminating actions.”

Needless to say you’re taken aback by this. Eyes wide and blank, you look at him with shock as your mind oscillates between delight and horror, hand resting on your chest as if your heart needs the help. Jack sighs, and after a moment of tense silence he speaks again. “I take it that’s enough proof for you.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“We thought you knew,” he shrugs. “And it wouldn’t have been my place to meddle, and also, it was kind of amusing to watch.”

You scoff bitterly. “Amusing.”

“Well, not so much now,” Doohan nods.

Silence fills the kitchen again, the chatter outside quiet against the deafening quietness inside. “You do like him, don’t you?” he asks earnestly.

You don’t answer, but all he has to do is look at your solemn face and see the emotions threatening to spill out of you. He comes closer, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Just take your time, mate.”

You nod, but you hear Oscar’s distinct timbre in the distance, speaking rapidly to someone. You turn your head and see him standing in the living room near the couch, and then—like magnets—he seems to feel your eyes raking over his figure, and meets your gaze as his head turns a little. Suddenly you’re sixteen again. He’s smiling at you like he used to, so fondly and sweetly, all the way from another room. Everything has changed but this feeling is the same. Oscar nods his head gently, as if to tell you ‘I’m doing okay over here, and I hope you are too,’ and you realise he’s dropped out of his conversation now just to look at you. He has always done this.

The hard part is over, but you didn’t know until it was spoken of.

You sweep the crushed cans off the table and into the garbage bag, back starting to hurt from all the cleanup you’ve had to do. Thank the lord they all left early; you haven’t been able to enjoy yourself fully since that talk with Doohan. Since then his words have just been eating away at you the whole night, but you can speak to Oscar just fine, you think. You’re trying your best, at least.

“Jesus, have the lights always been this bright?” he says, and by the way he’s stumbling onto the couch and slurring his words a little, he’s probably more tipsy than he’d like to admit.

You shake your head, turning around to face him. The cans inside the bag you’re holding clank against one another. “Fun night?”

“Not particularly,” he says, eyes shutting as he throws an arm over his face, lying down flat on the couch. “Just, those fucking Strong Zeroes, man.”

“I told Doohan he shouldn’t have!”

“He really shouldn’t have.” Oscar groans, eyes shutting tighter as he tries to push his face into the couch, and you chuckle before going back to cleaning up, moving towards the pile of cans on the kitchen island.

“Don’t leave,” you hear him say behind you.

You turn around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?” you say. “I’m not. I’m just going into the kitch—”

“No,” he whines quietly, muffled by the fabric of the couch. “That’s too far. Stay.”

You stand still, still holding the bag in your hand, visibly confused.

“We should always be in the same room,” he continues. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

You flush at his words. You’re not sure if he quite grasps the implications of what he’s saying, but you chalk it all up to his current state—surely he’s just a clingy drunk. You put the garbage bag down against the wall, approaching the couch as he pulls his legs back to make room for you.

You sit down. “Are you feeling alright, Osc?”

“No,” he replies, too quickly for your liking. Oscar shuffles back onto his back, eyes still shut as his tone is reduced to grumbling. “I had this really awful thought the other day that we’re so far apart. I’m off doing my races and now you’re off at uni doing whatever.”

You cock your head to the side, clearly about to protest, but he starts up again. “I just want to know what you’re doing all the time,” he admits. “And how you’re feeling. I miss you all the time, and I wanna know you’re okay.”

“Oscar,” you frown, putting a hand on his arm tenderly. “If you want to stay in touch more, of course we can—”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay in touch. I wanna be with you.”

You pull your arm back. He winces, missing your touch. “Tiny, this must sound so crazy.”

“No,” you assure him, though you’re struggling to comprehend his words. “I just don’t know what you me—”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your blood runs cold even as your stomach shatters and explodes into a million butterflies that feel hot like lava inside of your body. “I know it must sound so crazy,” Oscar chuckles bitterly. “I know it must be so crazy…”

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think it’s crazy. I just, I wonder how you’ll feel in the morning.”

“It’s not the alcohol.”

He opens his eyes only to look at you, pupils darting around slowly to find you, the only soothing sight when the lights are still killing him. Oscar smiles a little at your familiar face. “I spoke to Doohan,” he explains.

“Ah,” you mumble, flushing. Of course he did.

He pauses a bit, tries to find the courage to speak again. He finds it in how your eyes seem to shine a little brighter where you’re sitting, mesmerised by how beautiful you are tonight. “He’s right, you know. I feel a bit silly, or stupid rather, like I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Well,” you chuckle timidly, looking down at your hands. “I would have some explaining to do myself, too.”

Oscar smiles to himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath; he didn’t even realise he’d been holding it in this whole time. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that.”

At his words, you look up to meet his eyes again, to see how he’s smiling now, and it makes your chest expand with warmth, heart pumping fast. “I’ll feel the same in the morning,” he says, sitting up clumsily now just to look at your face better. He doesn’t want to look away ever again. “I promise you that. I’ve felt this way since forever—I just didn’t know the word for it yet.”

Your eyes widen just a little more at his words; you don’t recognise the inexplicable feeling that’s captured your body, but you think this is what he means. The thing he didn’t know the word for. But you know the word for it now.

“I think I love you too,” you say.

Oscar lets out a quiet noise of relief. He finds your hand in your lap, takes it in his, and just holds it. You look at each other for a long while, taking in the details of one another’s faces. “You don’t look a day over seven,” you chuckle, and it makes him grin softly.

“That’s alright. Did you feel then how you feel about me now?” he asks.

“I think you sealed the deal when you helped me get up on my feet after falling off the slide,” you quip with a smile, and he squeezes your hand a little approvingly.

“You remember that.”

“The little things aren’t little to me, either,” you say, and his heart soars at your words. Oscar can’t resist it anymore; he tugs on your hand a little and pulls you into his arms, hands latching onto your waist as he holds you tightly. You fall into each other like magnets. It just feels right, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but nothing in this world is truly given this way. You had been working for it your entire life, but you’re only knowing this now.

His lips hover over your cheek, and it makes you shiver, but it shouldn’t be like this. “I don’t want our first kiss to be when you’re drunk,” you tell him, pulling away from his flushed face. “It’s… You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. It just has to be right.”

Oscar swallows dryly, but he nods. “You’re right,” he says, with a gentle smile that tells you he’s being sincere. “You’re right. Not like this.”

He pulls you in again, holding you even tighter this time. You feel his heart beating out of his chest against yours, his warm breath against your skin, the warm his arms keep contracting as if he’s afraid to let you go. A warm waft of air filters through the window, left ajar, and swirls around the two of you, bodies now entangled. Neither of you can find a reason to leave, so you don’t. You never end up cleaning the kitchen that night.

The sun’s starting to filter through your blinds now, and you know you have no excuse to stay in bed anymore, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up. Your brother’s bedroom is probably collecting dust already; ever since that night, Oscar’s been sleeping in your bed now, and you both sleep so much better with a cuddle buddy by your side. He likes to be big spoon, but he’s happy to hold you face to face as well, duh! Why would he upset with getting to see your face, eyes shut so peacefully in slumber? He likes to wake up before you because of this, just so he can catch a glimpse of you so soft and pliable in his arms, comfortably happily asleep, but today you’re the one who wakes up first, stirred awake by the birds chirping outside your window.

You try to slip out of his grasp, but he just tightens his arms around you, furrowing his eyebrows in his sleep. You try again and he does it again, this time with a grumbling noise that makes you chuckle.

“Oscar,” you smile, press a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “They come home today.”

“So?” he grumbles back, eyes still shut as he pulls you in, tucking your head under his chin. “What’s it got to do with us?”

“We’ve got to make them brekky, babe,” you chuckle. You press a kiss to his neck now, before deciding you can’t really resist littering them all over his skin. “They’ll be starving by the time they get here.”

Oscar makes a strange, hushed noise. “Well, doing that certainly won’t get me out of bed.”

You’re confused, but then you realise something’s been pressing up against your thigh, worsened by how he keeps pulling you back into his arms. “Oh my god, Osc,” you yelp. “Just from a few kisses?”

“And maybe a very good dream,” he mumbles back. If he were awake, he’d surely be laughing, pleased with himself.

“You dirty, dirty pervert,” you snicker, but you’re tutting at him in a way that sends a tingle down his spine, and your fingers inching down the trail on his stomach is making him shiver. “You’re shameless.”

“Yeah, but something tells me you like it,” he says, but he can barely finish the sentence before you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, shimmying them down. His length springs free; your eyes beam a little too brightly at the sight of it, making him laugh.

“Someone’s eager.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been dreaming about riding you into the bed for actual years,” you chuckle, long fingers wrapping around him. “You look delicious in the morning, you know that? All sleepy and dishevelled. It’s very sexy, Osc.”

“Ah?” he says, a moan disguised as a word. Your hand starts to move and he can barely hold himself back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your mouth is hovering over his cock now, warm breath making him shiver before your tongue makes contact with his tip, swirling all around the head in a way that makes his eyes roll back. “Holy shit,” you hear him mutter to himself, and you smile as you drag your tongue all over the length of him.

“Babe, I love the teasing,” he breathes out. “But I don’t think I can quite take it this morning.”

You hum to yourself, biting back a cheeky smile as a thought pops up in your head. “You know, you’re right,” you say. “We’re running on a tight schedule. And we could use something that saves time, so… if you’re getting head, you could give it too, no?”

Oscar’s face lights up at your words. “You wanna sit on my face? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.”

“Fuckin’ hell, any day of the week, missy.”

With that, he puts his hands on your head and pulls you up for a kiss that deepens into a little more. His lips are soft, mouth hot and wet; you feel yourself dampen a little against the cotton of your panties, something he feels too as his hands travel all the way down to your ass, fingers reaching past the fabric of your shorts inside to find the wet patch growing at your cunt. Your fingers hook into the waistband of both layers, tugging them off eagerly as he steadies his hands on your hips again. You turn around, and now Oscar’s got your pussy hovering right over his face. He think he’s salivating at the sight of it. Is that too crude? Jesus christ, it’s just so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined, waking up with you by his side, having the girl of all of his dreams with him now, eating your pussy first thing in the morning.

“You’re not so tiny anymore, hey? You’re a big girl now.”

You flush at his words. “Just get to it, Piastri.”

He needs no further encouragement, hands on your hips pulling you down to his face, tongue flicking a long stripe all the way down your cunt. You cry out at the sudden contact, and you realise very soon that he is very good at what he is doing, soft wet tongue sliding between your folds carefully, lips wrapping gently around your sensitive clit, hands gripping onto the meat of your ass, an action that signifies a clinginess you’d never know from how soft-spoken he is. He eats you out like a hungry man, lapping up the wetness that soaked your panties before eagerly. When you wrap your lips around his cock, taking all of him in until he hits the back of your throat, it makes him groan against your pussy, and it feels so strangely good that you keep throating him just like that every once in a while, just to feel him shift underneath you and thrust into your mouth a little. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, and he is, but he just can’t resist it when you’re doing that.

“Fuck, babe,” Oscar gasps out, pulling away as his fingers continue to rub at your clit. “If you keep doing that thing, I won’t last very long.”

You can tell by his tone he’s slightly embarrassed about taking such little time to get there. “We’ll get there together, I promise,” you say. “Just—ah!—keep using your fingers.”

He smiles, happy to oblige. This time he dips a finger inside you, tongue now swirling around your clit as his finger curls, finding that cushiony spot inside you that makes your back arch a little. There it is. He slips another finger in, tongue flicking fast against you, fingers pumping at a steady pace as you suck his cock sloppily, drool pooling at the base, fingers still wrapped around his length, lazily moving up and down. It’s all too much for the both of you, both moaning and whimpering against one another as your bodies start to get more and more sensitive, responding to each motion with a little more volume. Your back arches, his hips thrust; you know you’re both getting to that climax.

“Babe, fuck—”

“I know,” you gasp, a long mewl drawing out of you as his fingers, soaked in your slick now, keep thrusting in and out of you. “I’m—hah—almost there, too.”

He nods his head eagerly and latches his wet mouth back onto you, eating you out desperately as his hips start to move on their own, filling your mouth and muffling your increasing cries of pleasure as your eyes shut and roll back.

“I can’t take it,” he moans loudly. “Babe, I—oh my god!”

Just as Oscar starts to flood your mouth, you collapse onto him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, body slack and limp. “Jesus,” you heave out, flipping onto your back off of him, swallowing all of his load down your throat. The sight of it makes him whimper. You take a good look at him; he’s got your slick all over his face, glistening from his lips down to his chin.

“Christ, I made a mess of you,” you chuckle, embarrassed, but he seems proud of himself.

“A souvenir, yeah?” He jokes, and you push his chest, rolling your eyes, but he pulls you into his arms. “God, that was fuckin’ amazing. You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

You pull the duvet back up over the both of you as you lie down once again, resting your head on his chest now as you look up at him with a smile. You wipe at his mouth with your hand. “There.”

“Aw,” he frowns playfully. “I quite liked it.”

“You fuckin’ pervert,” you say, going to push his chest again but he catches your arm with his hand.

“Don’t get feisty,” Oscar chuckles, shaking his head before pecking you on the forehead. “Let’s just lay here for a bit. And you know, I’ve been thinking.”

Your finger traces shapes on the freckled skin of his bare chest. “About what?”

“About you, coming to see me,” he says. “You know… I was thinking, maybe you could schedule your classes with me in my mind? You know, money’s not an issue. Transport, accommodation, passes, I can take care of all of that. I just need to know you can see me. Not for every race, obviously. But some of them. It’d mean so much to me, Tiny.”

You look up at him now, smiling. “Of course I can,” you nod gently. “It’d mean everything to me too, Osc.”

His face blooms into a smile, eyes raking over the details of your face, savouring it as if he hasn’t a million times before. “Then it’s done,” he says, bringing your hand up to kiss it. “You can’t escape me now.”

“Like I’d ever want to,” you roll your eyes.

Before Oscar can counter with a snarky remark, the door flies open.

“Piastri—seriously? My fucking sister?”

That’s the end! Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Leave em all in my askbox, and again, thank you so much for reading!

[navyiera]

No One Noticed.

Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem!Reader

tags; angst, wlw, established relationship, caitlyn being dry as fuck.

a/n; inspired by 'no one noticed' by the marias. (i love them)

You woke up as Y/N today. Or maybe you’ve always been Y/N, but it didn’t feel like it lately. The clock on your phone read 3:42 AM, the glowing digits mocking you in the darkness of your room. Your blanket was wrapped around you like a cocoon, but it did nothing to stop the chill that settled deep in your chest.

Your laptop sat open on the desk across the room, the same empty chat box staring back at you from last night.

Maybe you lost your mind.

The thought wasn’t new. It came around often, like an old friend who overstayed their welcome. Days blurred into each other now, but tonight—tonight felt heavier. Or maybe it always felt this way at this hour.

You sat up, your fingers hesitating before you reached for your phone. You didn’t have to scroll far before you saw her name. Caitlyn. You stared at the letters longer than you’d like to admit, debating whether to text her.

It had been weeks since she called first. Months since you saw her in person. Yet here you were, unable to stop yourself from wanting her. Or at least wanting the version of her that used to answer quickly, who laughed easily, who didn’t feel so far away even when you were in the same room.

Maybe she was still that person. Maybe you were the one who’d changed.

The message you typed was simple. “Are you awake?”

Three dots appeared. Your heart jumped. Then they disappeared.

You tried not to care.

But then her reply came through: “Yeah."

You hesitated before typing: “Can I call?”

Another pause. You hated that your chest felt tight, like this mattered more than it should. Then: “Sure.”

You didn’t let yourself think. You hit the video call button, and when her face filled the screen, something in you eased.

“Caitlyn.” Her name came out like a sigh.

She was sitting in the dark, her face lit only by the glow of her screen. Her hair was tied up messily, and she was wearing that oversized hoodie you’d seen her in a hundred times. The one you’d always thought looked better on her than it would on anyone else.

“Y/N,” she said, and her voice was low, familiar, but there was something distant in it.

“You look tired,” you said, a poor attempt at conversation.

“I am.”

“Then why are you awake?”

She shrugged. “Why are you?”

You wanted to tell her the truth. That you couldn’t stop thinking about how she didn’t call anymore, how she felt like a ghost haunting the edges of your life. But instead, you said, “Couldn’t sleep.”

She nodded like she understood. Maybe she did.

The silence between you stretched, the hum of your laptop the only sound in the room. You thought about ending the call, about sparing yourself the ache of wanting more from her than she seemed willing to give. But then she spoke.

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

You laughed softly, bitterly. “You’d know all about that.”

Her expression flickered, something like guilt crossing her features, but it was gone too quickly for you to hold onto.

“I’m here now,” she said, her voice softer.

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you just looked at her, memorizing the curve of her jaw, the way her fingers rested against her lips.

“Y/N?” she said after a while, and the way she said your name made your chest ache.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

Your breath caught. “Then why do you keep pulling away?”

She looked down, her hair falling into her face. “It’s not you.”

“It feels like me.”

“It’s not.” She looked up then, her eyes meeting yours through the screen. “I don’t know how to… stay, I guess.”

“Try.” The word came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t take it back. “Just try.”

She didn’t answer, and the silence felt heavier this time.

“I’m tired, Y/N,” she said finally.

“Of me?”

“No.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Of everything.”

You didn’t know how to fix that. You didn’t know how to fix her. But God, you wanted to.

“Caitlyn.” Her name felt like a prayer on your lips. “I’m tired too.”

For a moment, you thought she might cry. But she didn’t. She just looked at you, her expression unreadable.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said, echoing words she’d once told you.

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t either.”

You wanted to believe her. But when the call ended and her face disappeared from your screen, the ache in your chest didn’t go away.

You stared at the blank chat box, the cursor blinking like it was waiting for you to say something. But there was nothing left to say.

Maybe you’d lost your mind.

No one noticed.

No one but her.

And that made it all the worse.

[bellobambino]

⚠️GUYS, in the last 48 hrs, all social media sites have been TERMINATING MULTIPLE accounts, including here on Tumblr, who post about Luigi! Very soon, his tag might not work as well! Let's make sure we have backups and tag all posts with Lulu, Pep, Peperoni, and everything else you can possibly imagine. They WILL actively try to force us to shut up. They want to CUT our connection with each other because if we have no one to talk to, eventually we'd stop and forget about him. We can not let that happen. I'll send this message to a few other active blogs. Please be aware and be careful.

ok, i don’t believe this, but i do think it’s smart to have an alternate way to communicate with other luigi blogs.

the reason i don’t believe it is because i don’t think his popularity is “growing” and i do not see internet behavior around him to be “dangerous” at all.

nobody is talking about the shooting anymore. nobody is actively calling for more ceos to die anymore.

if you haven’t noticed, all the language and topics surrounding luigi online have a common theme……. simping and memeing.

i’ve been on the internet long enough to know these platforms aren’t staffed enough to take even the more serious and dangerous ideas down.

i can’t imagine thinking luigi blogs pose any sort of legitimate threat to public safety.

but i’ve been wrong before, and the internet does surprise me often.

someone suggested starting a discord. i’m willing to do that!

but i don’t know much about content restrictions there. i would have to just not mention his name anywhere in the setup.

is there a luigi discord anywhere? or a fanfic discord or rpf or anything of the like?

talk to me

[hexemil]

1/ I use the labels therian and otherkin :D

2/ My kintype/theriotype is a dream creature that looks kinda cat like (at least the face) and it has 4 pairs of wings (so 8 wings in total), 4 paws, 5 horns made of light, long body, neck and tail. The tail has feather like fur at the tip of it and the creature has curly fur on the head kinda like hair. The colours can be anything except the horns always stay a golden bright light and the eyes are either pitch black or white (if they’re white they glow).

3/ I do have shifts and my most common ones are phantom wings. I don’t think I’ve had a cameo shift.

4/ I just simply feel nonhuman. I have some behaviours that are more animalistic like making random squeaks and chirps. I have other things as well but idk how to explain.

5/ The community is a lot less toxic than in 2018 (I was in therian packs and community on instagram) but I guess that comes with a cost since it has way more misinformation now. I am happy about all the people I have met in the community :D

6/ I have dyed my hair to an unnatural colour, certain necklaces, one a whole outfit, masks, barefoot shoes that I call my paws, quadrobics and all the art I have of my kintype.

7/ I do think I have some species dysphoria but it does mix with my gender dysphoria so it is a bit hard to tell. I do have some stuff like missing my wings, my fangs not being slightly sharp enough and my body feeling wrong. Before I cut my hair short and dyed it I almost tried to rip it out.

8/ Take your time. No need to rush. I took like 6 years to figure myself out and there could be more I don’t know of yet.

9/ As I already said in number six I have stuff like necklaces, masks, a whole outfit, barefoot shoes and art. I do also have a bunch of things with feathers on them that makes me feel more connected to my kintype.

10/ Oh boy do I. Get ready for a long explanation. My kintype is a god like being created by Obsidian or came to be with Obsidian (I’m not entirely sure yet). Obsidian is a higher being (higher beings are above gods so more powerful than them). Obsidian is time, space and antimatter. Obsidians other names are Watcher and Eyes of the universe/multiverse. So Obsidian watches worlds and universes to make sure they don’t try to break the way everything works (you can kinda think of TVA from Marvel). To help Obsidian watch over worlds there are gods. My kintype is one of these gods. It is the god of dreams so it doesn’t really have a physical form in our reality/world so that is why it has mortal vessels. I believe I am one of them. I believe I know of other two vessels. One of them is a Middle Eastern guy aged 20-30 in death and another one is a light coloured wolf with green eyes. You can ask more if you want :D

11/ I don’t have anyone since only person I know is @pixistix-xp also yes I do like that you tag me in these things so I can be more active and stuff :D

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Okay imagine Scott’s first time spending new years with someone apart from himself, you invited him over to your house and everyone’s celebrating and when the clock strikes 12, you quickly kiss him (your first kiss) as soon as he turns to wish you a happy new year and you giggle when you pull and see this pretty boy all flustered and red. Safe to say he hasn’t stopped holding your hand since that kiss.

Also happy new year bunnyyyy, hope you have the best ‘25 ever pooks! Love ya!💗

- 🌺

Author's note: dear beautiful nonnie, as always, you're slaying with requests - never disappointing me :) thank you so much for wishes, I hope you'll have the nicest, the sweetest year ever‼️ love you too, 🌺 Nonnie

SCOTT BARRINGER wasn’t really one for big parties. He usually preferred to spend New Year's in his own quiet way, alone in his room. But tonight was an exception. You had invited him and somehow he just couldn't say no, not to you. So now he was here, at your house, surrounded by your friends - mostly. And somehow, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he thought it would.

Even though he wasn’t used to being part of a crowd like this, he found himself drawn to you. There was something easy about being around you. You made it feel like he belonged.

The countdown finaystarted, the whole room joining in unison. “Ten… nine… eight…”

The countdown continued that he tried to distract himself with, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of your eyes on him. “Three… two… one…”

He moved his gaze around the room before turning it on you, catching your eye. You were smiling, your cheeks flushed with excitement, or something he wasn't quite able to name. He quickly turned his gaze away, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets

When you pulled away, you burst into giggles (out of nervousness since Scott was kind of unpredictable) and Scott, on the other hand, was frozen for a second, face going bright red. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d never been the type to get flustered, but now? He was a mess. He stood there, blinking at you, trying to find proper words that would really describe his feelings.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, you were suddenly there, your lips pressing to his. It was soft, quick--nothing too crazy--yet still, it sent a jolt of electricity through him.

A kiss.

On New Year’s.

With you.

“You--” he started, but his voice caught in his throat. He cleared it. “That was--um--wow.”

You laughed again, squeezing his hand. “Yeah?”

He nodded, still a little stunned. “Yeah, that was... definitely not what I expected for New Year’s.”

You grinned “I thought you might just say that.”

Scott looked then down at your hand, then back up at you, like he was trying to figure out how to act properly so there wouldn't be much awkwardness, just that little softness between you. Slowly, his fingers curled around yours, pulling your hand into his.

And he didn’t let go. Not once.

“Guess I’m not spending New Year’s alone this year"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[astheskycries]

Twisted Games- Meetings

Growing up with a hitman for a father, Andy Barber has never wanted to go near the mafia and used the money from the family to go to law school. When Steve Rogers offered him help after a hit on his family, he was more than happy to ensure no more unnecessary hits were made. As long as everyone is at arms’ length, he can keep them safe.

I want to take the time to give a MASSIVE shout out to @stargazingfangirl18 , who not only read this over for me but also has listened to me ramble and brainstorm over this AU and gave me amazing advice. This series wouldn't exist without her ❤️ I hope you all enjoy! If your name is not tagged it means I physically can't tag you, but I will be redoing my Tags soon so please keep an eye out for that!

Masterlist Buy Me a Coffee

The sun sparkles over the water of the Harbor, starting to set over the horizon as I review the documents for the umpteenth time. Though the hours are long, it’s been well worth the investment. Taking out money from a waitressing job was a huge risk, especially for someone who can’t afford college or a car that ran without being patchworked together, but somehow I turned a small business worked in the little time between jobs into a booming construction company, expanding into design and even buying out several companies in the greater Boston area.

“Ma’am? Your appointment is here.”

Speaking of.

I relax back a bit as I watch the lawyer slip inside, my assistant nodding once before shutting the door behind her. In other circumstances he would be a welcome distraction- short but soft brown hair styled up, a full beard with just the slight hints of grey, and the most beautiful baby blues I’ve ever seen. Tall and well-built, it’s no wonder Andy Barber has the reputation he does.

“Good Afternoon,” He greets smoothly, relaxing in his chair as he grabs his file folder. “I’m assuming you’ve reviewed everything?”

“Of course,” I lock the computer and move to my own paper copy, lazily opening it with a finger. “You’re nothing if not thorough, Mr. Barber.”

He hums, a slight smirk on his lips. “Well, it’s part of the job. Mr. Rogers wanted to make sure everything was covered.”

Yes. That.

“I saw that,” I flip through to a specific section, humming once. “Unfortunately, I’m still not interested in selling.”

Mr. Barber raises an eyebrow, watching me carefully. “Mr. Rogers has offered an unusually high payout for this company. If it’s stability you’re concerned about, he’s clearly stated money is no object.”

“It’s no object for me either, the answer is no.” I let the file close with a little smack, relaxing against my chair. “Will that be all?”

Mr. Barber shifts to lean closer, toying with a pen. “On a personal level, I think you may want to reconsider. Mr. Rogers has hired me for all of his business dealings; I know how he works. He’ll wait as long as it takes to acquire the company.”

I mirror his movements, leaning closer and crossing my hands on the desk. “I’ve done my own research, Mr. Barber. I’m fully confident that I will not be signing any deal that hands my company over to him.”

He makes a noise, putting away the file and slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll inform Mr. Rogers of your response. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again shortly.”

I hum, watching him until the door shuts before sagging against the chair with a breath, glancing over at the clock and seeing how late it is. I turn to look out at the skyline again, biting my lips as I let my mind wander.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow we can plan for the next one.

…

“I assume it didn’t go as planned?” Steve muses, pouring a glass of bourbon as he watches Andy pace the floor of his private office. Though the leader of the group, the blonde looks innocent, almost angelic with his bright blue eyes and clean shaven appearance. He's a walking Greek god, a perfect covering for the horns holding up the halo.

“She turned the offer down. Again.” Andy fumes loosening his tie as he continues to pace, flipping through the file for the hundredth time.

“Is this the third time? Or second?” Steve leans against his desk, eyebrows raised as he looks over his drink, downing it in one swig.

“Third offer. Second refusal- no one ever refuses your deals.” Andy turns, unamused by Steve’s expression. “I even warned her you wanted to continue negotiations. She said money wasn’t an object and sent me packing.” He sighs, accepting the new glass Steve offers. “I told her I’d let you know and be in touch.”

Steve smirks, hiding it behind another drink. “See if you can find what she wants, come up with an agreement. Take her to one of our best restaurants.” He lets his shoulders relax, taking a moment to observe how ruffled the lawyer is. “I have to admit, this is refreshing.”

“Fuck off,” Andy mutters, finishing the glass. “I’ll get to work tomorrow.”

Steve hums, taking a slow drink. “I mean it. I haven’t seen you this animated in a while.”

Andy hums, rolling the ice in his glass. “I can’t get a read on her. It’s frustrating, you know how long I've worked on our offers being airtight? We’re more than generous when we buy out.”

“Well, it’s good for you. Something different.” Steve takes his friends’ empty glass, setting them aside. “I trust you to handle it. I’m not sparing any expenses, this would give us control over the other side of town. More leverage.”

Andy nods, glancing at his watch. “I’ll make it happen.”

“Andy?” Steve waits for the man to pause and look back, hand still on the handle. “Take her to that high rise restaurant.”

“I’m not taking her on a date.” Andy swiftly leaves, leaving a new voice to laugh from their place lounged on the sofa.

“You’re setting up the hard ass?” Lloyd muses, smirking over his drink as his rings gently tap against the glass. His loafers are shining in the light as he crosses his ankles, thick mustache doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You really think this is a good idea?”

Steve hums, moving back to his seat. “You’re complaining?”

“Fuck no.” Lloyd grins, continuing to spin his knife in his fingers, enjoying the way it glints from the lamp light. “Just determines whether I plant those cameras in his office.”

“No.” Steve focuses on his computer. “But send him my black card. I’ll cover his ‘dinner’.”

Tags: @janeyboo @mylittlefandomfanfictions @palaiasaurus64 @averyrogers83 @guera31 @soulmates8 @coffeebooksandfandom @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @pegasusdragontiger @mizzzpink @onetwo3000 @see-you-again-my-sun-and-stars @sleepylunarwolf @wheresmyplums @smoothdogsgirl @marvelouslyme96 @esoltis280 @jtargaryen18 @k-evans-writes @rainbowkisses31 @buchanansebba @katiew1973 @patzammit @time-for-a-lullaby @openup-yourmind

Twisted Games: @hangmanscoming

[sngj08]

[Not so Quiet Boy] Sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: your friend tries to set you up with an old acquaintance of yours in hopes to get him a girlfriend by the end of his senior year

genre: crush to friends, friends to lovers, crush to lovers, high school romance, after school and outside of school hangouts, mixed signals, friends playing cupid, friends not saying everything, obvious flirting but protagonist doesn't see,

warning: profanity

author's note: all of this is from true experience and none of them were altered besides names.

prev / masterlist / next

Part 1: Disney

A few months into the next school year, there was a trip for the performing arts branch of the school to go to Disney California Adventure for a workshop. You had a workshop at 3pm till 6pm so you had planned the rest of the day to enjoy the park. Initially planned to go with your friend, Winter but as you were waiting for her at the park entrance, she messaged you she had swimming practice that day and would be arriving by lunch time.

You sighed as you saw the message, someone screamed your name. “Yn!” You looked up to see another friend of yours.

“Eli!” You said as she went towards you.

You and Elisa go back since freshman year when you were by yourself in the dance room during office hours.

You had no other place to go for office hours so you decided to stay at dance room. There were a handful of people there but it was somewhat quiet. Everyone had a group of friends quietly working on their dances while you were at the corner by yourself until you heard people very noisy come in. You quietly looked up to see a girl and a guy chatting as they put their bags down. As time passed, you noticed that they were learning a dance together but in the middle, the guy needed to go somewhere and left. Thats when she noticed you at the side of the room by yourself.

"Hi!" She went up to you as you stood up to greet her back. It ended up you both had a lot in common so you decided to keep in touch every now and then knowing she was a grade older than you.

"Who were you with just now? He's the only guy that went in here besides the teacher next door." You asked her out of curiosity as you quickly get used to her presence. "Oh that's Sunghoon. He's the only guy who dances here. I knew him from tech theater... But why so curious?" She playfully raised an eyebrow and nudged you a bit as you two laughed it off.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Elisa asked you, making you remember your alone at Disney situation.

“Winter was going to be with me today but she has swim practice this morning. How about you, are you going around with someone?” You explain while asking the same thing back to her.

“Oh yeah I’m looking for Jennie and Sunghoon and they said they’re already here but I can’t see them.” She said as she looked at her phone, waiting for a notification, then looked back to you.

“Oh yeah and wait! My mom said to show her proof of life. Can we take a selfie to send to my mom?” You remembered as she looked down at her phone as you explained to her your mom’s words this morning.

“I got you!” As we both posed for the selfie, Wyn’s phone started ringing so you took a quick shot and made her answer the call.

“Yo Sunghoon where your asses are at?!” She screamed to the phone as she answered it.

“Oh ok” She suddenly spoke calmly as she nodded and placed the phone down.

“They’re already inside. Are you going to be going inside anytime soon?” She asked you as she was looking at you worriedly.

“I was planning to go in by myself but now that I think of it, can I join you guys? Winter won’t be here till 12.” You said while scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment.

“Yeah of course! I’ll just tell them you're joining us when we get inside.” Elisa said as we both headed to the entrance.

As we both went in, we could see Sunghoon and Jennie going to us. I waved to both of them as Jennie waved back and Sunghoon just gave us a small nod of recognition.

“Can Yn tag along? She was going to join Winter but she’s not going to be here till 12." She explained the rest of the group.

"Yeah of course!" Jennie said as they all nodded in agreement while looking at each other.

"What ride should we go on first?" Elisa asked openly.

"Let's go to the Guardians of the Galaxy one!" Sunghoon finally had said something.

taglist: (open) @enhacolor @beigerin

[rubywillkins]

Franco colapinto| Caffeine

Pairing franco female reader

Warning smut, pinv, love at first sight

The café was cozy and bustling, tucked away in the corner of a charming little street in Monaco. Franco Colapinto, a celebrated Formula 1 driver, had stumbled upon it during his winter break. For once, the roar of engines and blinding flashes of cameras were replaced by the soft clinking of cups and murmured conversations. He was used to adrenaline, speed, and applause, but something about this quiet escape felt… grounding.

That was when he saw her.

Behind the counter stood a girl with chestnut brown hair tied in a messy bun, a pen tucked behind her ear, and a smile that seemed to light up the room. Her name tag read Y/N. She was graceful, quick on her feet, and laughed in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

Franco didn’t believe in love at first sight, but in that moment, he felt something shift within him.

The next day, he returned. And the day after that. For someone who thrived on risk and competition, his heart pounded nervously every time he ordered his coffee.

“Double espresso again?” Sophia asked with a teasing smile after his third visit.

“Yeah, you could say I’m a creature of habit,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“You must be new around here,” she said, leaning slightly over the counter. “I’d remember someone with an accent like that.”

“I’m here for a break,” he said, keeping his answer vague. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to know who he was just yet. For once, he wanted someone to see franco, not the celebrity.

Y/N, a college student juggling her studies and her part-time job, didn’t press further. She liked that he was polite, funny, and surprisingly down-to-earth.

Days turned into weeks. Franco made the café his second home. He learned that Y/N was studying literature, that she loved old movies, and that she had a habit of doodling little flowers on napkins when the café was slow. He also learned that she had a sharp wit and wasn’t easily impressed.

One evening, as the café was winding down, Franco finally gathered the courage to ask her out.

“Y/N,” he began, leaning against the counter, “would you let me take you out for dinner? I promise it’ll be fun.”

Her smile faltered. “Franco, you’re sweet, but… I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I have school, work, and… I just don’t think I can do this.”

Her rejection stung, but Franco wasn’t one to give up easily.

Determined, he stepped up his efforts. He brought her flowers with little notes about how her smile brightened his day. He started helping clean up the café when things were busy, insisting that he just “needed the exercise.” He even began learning about her favorite books and quoting lines to make her laugh.

Slowly but surely, Y/n began to lower her guard. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, the way he listened when she spoke, and how he didn’t try to rush her into anything.

One cold evening, as they closed up the café together, she sighed and looked at him.

“Franco… maybe I was wrong,” she admitted softly. “You’re… different. I’d like to give this a try.”

That night, they went for a late dinner, talking and laughing as if they’d known each other forever.

When franco walked her home, the tension between them was undeniable.

“Y/N,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “you’re incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone.”

She leaned into him, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, tender, and electrifying all at once.

When they stepped into her apartment, the world outside ceased to exist. Their connection deepened as they explored one another’s vulnerabilities, their kisses turning urgent, their touches leaving no part of each other unexplored.

Franco slowly slid his one hand inside her undie, while roughly kissing her. His one hand was drawing circles on her clit while his other hand was kneading her breast. His mouth was doing wonders on her chest.

You were truly a moaning mess then. Both of your hands were playing with his hair.

He slowly removes his hand from your clitoris and puts his finger inside you.. he starts moving his fingers. First, it was one finger and then two. Then three.. he went from slow to fast... when you were about to cum he started to kiss you.. on the lips... lower lips.. he slowly moves to your clit again making you groan. From kissing he went to roughly suck your clit while pinching both of your breasts.

You were on cloud 9. You cum all over again and he cleans you with his mouth.. "just put it in franco.. I just can't..." " Be patient baby girl... I am gonna make you feel good". He inserts himself into her... and starts to pound into you.. the to and fro motion was so good.. first it was missionary... you both were staring into each other's eyes... then he just flipped you with his one hand and started to take you from behind.. honestly you were shocked by his strength but it was hot.

He flipped you again this time it was lotus and then another position then another...

Franco’s hands were strong yet gentle, and Y/n responded with a passion she hadn’t realized she was capable of. That night, they let themselves be vulnerable, their bodies speaking in a language words couldn’t capture.

As they lay tangled in each other’s arms afterward, Franco pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re worth every effort, Y/n. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/n smiled, resting her head on his chest. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe, seen, and cherished.

Little did they know, their love story was just beginning.

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Johnny Comes Back pt12

Howdy hey everyone! I'm back at it agaaainn. Also, MADE IT TO 1,000 LIKES!!! WOOOOHOOOO! Thank you all SO MUCH! I never thought I'd end up like this so fast! I'm truly at a loss for how long I should make these.

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and @beelzebee

part1, part11

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

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You gasp on the couch as Soap is texting someone important nearby, it seemed slow, as if they haven't responded yet.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You look at each other

“I…..I think that’s him”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocking was loud, incessant and insistent . A little louder and it would be followed by ‘FBI FBI OPEN UP!’

“Don’t worry bout’ nothin’ hen. I got you. Always will”

His tone showed no hint of his usual teasing playfulness, but this time, you felt safer because of it.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Aye! Aye! I’m coming!” He calls out and gets up. You get up to come with him. “Stay back hen. I got this”

“No. It’s me they’re looking for.”

“I’ll take care o’ it okay?” He insists He opens the door while you listen nearby. “How can I help you gentlemen”

Lo and behold there’s two men in professional clothing standing there. The one with the mustache looks at him like he expected him to be here and the taller one looked almost surprised to see him. Mustache man clears his throat “hello sir. I’m with the government. We wish to ask some questions about recent activities in the area. No need to be alarmed. We just wish to speak with the residents. This is just a courtesy visit. May I come in?” He says in the police version of a costumer service voice except that in this profession they can actually punch you instead of fantasizing about it.

“It’s just routine” the taller one grunts Soap laughed humorlessly “courtesy visit now eh? Would ye like some tea and biscuits then?” He jabs, clearly unafraid nor the least bit intimidated. He shook his head “show me your ID and I’ll consider it” They exchange glances, their faux friendly mask slipping away. “Agent Ross and Agent Milton” they show their IDs. Soap takes mental notes of them.

“Right….I’m not in the habit of letting strangers in the house”

“It’s just a minor follow up about inquiries made online” Soap knows what they’re talking about

“Hmm….let me ask you a question” he leans against the doorframe “didja know I’d be here?”

Ross seems calm “heard you were back” Soap huffs a humorless laugh “heard? From what? A little birdie? C’mon now. Cannae fool me.”

A silence befalls them before Soap straightens up a bit “listen…I ken what yer comin for. And I’m tellin ye now: clear her name. She’s innocent. I’ll tell her tae stop and send any suspicious activity tae my team. I’ll take it from here folks.” He says professionally

Milton, the more….insistent one clears his throat “sir…are you aware of her…ability to evade our intervention?”

Soap thinks for a while “explain”

“She’s been…..avoiding us” Ross starts

“Aye. I would too” he jabs “poor lass is scared out of her mind” Ross scoffs

“She seems to be very good at changes routes….changing grocery stores...sleeping in hotels..” Ross continues

Ah shit right……

“Ah…lass learned it from me. Nothin’ toad worry about”

They seem unconvinced

Now Milton starts talking “I managed to talk to her in a bar.”

Oh that’s why he was there….You thought he was hitting on you…you’re listening close by.

Soap directs his attention to Milton “Asked if her boyfriend told her anything about his job. She said yes”

“What did she say?”

“you blew people up”

“Aye. That’s part of the job”

“Did you tell her anything else?”

“I’m not an amateur”

They exchange looks, deciding their Ned course of actions “look…” Ross starts “it’ll just be a few questions”

He sighs “aye, aye. I ken my rights gentlemen” he thinks for a moment “I’ll have a word wit her.”

“That’ll be gre-“

SLAM

Soap closed the door with more force than necessary but not too much to be considered hostile, just enough to be rude.

“Bonny?”

You peak out the corner, nervous. Soap seems to soften at the sight. He walks up to you and wraps an arm around your waist

“lassie…would ye be fine wi-“

“I know Johnny. They want to come inside”

“Ye don’t have tae let them in” he reassures

“No….its fine…” you mumble

“Are you sure lass?”

You nod “as long as you’re there…..and I have a feeling it’s even more suspicious if I don’t face them.”

“You’ll be alright love. Trust me” you rest your head on him, liking this side of him. He rubs your head and you back off.

“I’ll be on the couch”

He opens the door he oh so rudely closed, sighs and steps aside “come in lads.”

I should probably mention that he’s still shirtless…..yeah he’s been that way since he woke up. And he has no problem with this. He doesn’t respect these guys. Plus it’s intimidating and hot.

You’re on the couch as they walk in and they can’t help but notice how domestic the scene looks. Soap shirtless, you wearing someone that clearly belongs to him while holding his son in your arms as he purrs. You keep your eyes on said son and Soap takes his seat next to you like a good boy. The men sit down on the other couch. Milton takes a professional tone “thank you for agreeing to speak with us. We’re just here to have a chat”

You kept your head down on Simon, who was now death staring them.

Ross clears his throat “just a few questions ma’am and we’ll be out of your way”

“Okay…” you mumble lowly

“They’re just here to intimidate you hen. They won’t do a damn thing” Soap whispers into your ear.

“We’d like to ask about your online behavior recently” Milton says “you’ve been snooping around official government business”

You’re silent

“How much do you know?” Ross asks

“Not much” you mumble, scratching Simon’s chin

“Hmm. Did you….share anything you found with others”

You did

You look towards Soap for answers. He nods as if to say ‘tell the truth’

“I have” you brave a look towards that men

“To who?”

“My friend”

“Who is she”

You go silent

“We won’t bother them” Milton ‘assures’

“I don’t want any trouble her way.”

“There won’t be. What did you tell her”

“Just…..some nonsense from conspiracy blogs”

“Did you send her anything”

“No”

“Good. We’d just like to confirm with her then”

You shuffle closer to Soap

“She means no harm. She was just worried about me” he gently guided your face to his chest “lads, if there’s anything alarmin’, I’ll send it to Captain Price.” He says as if it’s a huge name drop. It seems to have the desired effect but they’re not done yet. “Jus’ a curious civilian gentlemen. You can stop watching her, I’ll do it” Soap assures

“Do you understand that your activity may be suspicious?” Ross asks you

“Yes sir”

“Could you tell us your friend’s name?”

You shake your head “no. She’s done nothing wrong. All I told her is that I looked into Johnny’s job after I heard he got shot”

“Did she help with any research?”

A little? She looked stuff up with you and discussed your findings but a lot of your research was alone.

“Not really. It was me who was curious.”

They seem to take note of your answers.

“Did you contact anyone who….tried to, perhaps offered access to classified information? Perhaps for a monetary benefit?”

shit

You look pleadingly at Soap for help, he presses your face into his chest more and answers for you “if there is. I’ll make sure to properly handle it. This is my field and I’ll make sure there won’t be any civilian interference” his tone spoke solider and authority. You’ve long since dismissed the trope of “sergeant” applying to soap true to how he acts around you, but seeing this side of him, how controlled and powerful he is, made you remember who you’re really dealing with. It both intimidated and comforted you. The men seemed to take Soap more seriously every time he asserts his position, but it seems that the men have a job to do and are determined to do it well

“Ma’am?” They look at you, face still smushed into Soap’s strong warm chest “if it’s not too much to ask. What are your thoughts on the military? Are you a supporter or are you interested in games, films and stories that have elements of the military? Anything that may influence you….to take part in anything of the sorts? Particularly Modern Warfare?” Milton seems to be doing the talking now. Soap seemed interested in that answer.

“Um….no? Well yes. But Nothing that would make me do anything illegal.” They look at you as if awaiting a clearer explanation

“I-I mean I’ve watched movies, read stories and played games but that doesn’t mean I’ll act on it” of course you watch military movies! Johnny's right there and he’d never pass up the opportunity to piss on them. You may have played an FPS game or two and read fanfics but that won’t make you drop a bomb on Iraq.

“Do you have any political motivations, affiliations, or ideological leanings that would drive you to seek this information?” Soap doesn’t like that question. You’re not a terrorist! You’re not an extremist! You’re not any of that! You’re his wee Bonny lass that he’d fight the world for! “No. Of course not. She was jus’ worried about me. Gentlemen I think it’s time fer ye tae leave-“

“We understand you’re protective your wife, Sergeant Soap, but we’d like to hear it from her”

Soap shuts it but isn’t happy about it. You decide that you didn’t owe them an answer and didn’t give anything too definitive or personal “I was just….curious” you hide further into Soap

“Why do you ask?” He hums and looks through some notes as if this was standard procedure to spy on someone.

.

.

.

“What?” You question. Soap looks at you curiously “what are you talking about?”

“We…. don’t know everything-”

debatable

“-but apparently you spent a substantial amount of time on certain online communities that aren’t subject to domestic oversight. This was true before and after your peak of sensitive inquiries. This could be a hotspot for foreign influences and misinformation or anti establishment narratives without the presence of government regulations and protections” pfff! Protection? Regulations? They can’t even protect and regulate themselves. And what on earth is he talking about? “-and another site you frequent that has suffered a DDos attack by foreign interests” he reads off. Like what? AO3!? You sit there with a confused look on your face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Maybe if we read out your list of…questionable site names you’ll understand. Ross?”

Ross pulls out a file from his jacket, clears his throat and starts reading off ‘suspicious activities and sites’ in the somehow western accent he shares with Milton.

“Poison Breaker. Affirmative Sir. Operation: Deep Infiltration. Whispers of the Damned.”

Huh…those sound familiar?

“Undercover assets. Trapper Keeper. The Art of Subtlety. Hotline.”

Those….are just titles of sites you’ve visited? You think. You don’t memorize the hundreds of sites you visit.

“Tactical Submission. All That’s Said In Low Light. The Captain’s Private Orders. All the Sins You Never Had the Courage to Commit. Silent Weapons, Soft Target. To Drive a Man to Madness. Covert Rendezvous.”

Soap looks confused, which isn’t a good look right now. ‘What’s all this?’ He seems to say as he looks at you. You look confused as well.

You Don't remember this as being a part of your research

This Wasn't Part Of Your Research

[kazenehoshizora]

The Third Division cafeteria buzzed with its usual activity. Plates clattered, voices chattered, and amidst the commotion, you stood frozen, staring at an empty dessert plate. Your Mont Blanc—the one you had carefully hidden earlier—was gone.

As if on cue, Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina strolled in, looking entirely too relaxed. Spotting you, he waved casually, then stopped mid-stride as if recalling something. "Oh, by the way, that dessert in the fridge? Damn, that was somethin' else. Didn't think I'd like chestnuts that much."

Your jaw dropped. “That was mine!”

Hoshina blinked, then winced slightly. “Ah... my bad. Didn’t have a name tag on it, so I figured it was free game.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms. "Free game?" Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked off, deciding then and there to give him the silent treatment.

-------next day --------

The cafeteria buzzed with activity, but for Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina, there was one notable absence—your usual cheerful greetings. Over the past four days, you had mastered the art of ignoring him, and he was not enjoying it.

As the Third Division prepared for the kaiju subjugation that evening, Hoshina spotted you near the mission briefing area, double-checking your gear. With his usual laid-back grin, he approached.

“Yo, rookie! All set for tonight? Make sure ya don’t forget anythin’—wouldn’t want ya to freeze up out there.”

You didn’t even glance at him. Instead, you adjusted your helmet strap and walked away as if he didn’t exist.

Hoshina blinked, momentarily stunned before muttering under his breath, “Cold as ice. Thought we Kansai folks were supposed to be the stubborn ones.”

---

Four Days Later: The Subjugation Mission

Night had fallen, and the Third Division was fully mobilized for a large-scale kaiju subjugation. The battle was intense, but the team worked like a well-oiled machine. However, just as victory seemed within reach, the ground beneath you and Vice Captain Hoshina gave way, sending you both tumbling into an underground chamber.

Dust filled the air as rubble settled around you. Groaning, you blinked and realized you were pinned under Hoshina—his arm braced against the wall to keep from crushing you entirely. The awkward proximity made heat rise to your cheeks, but Hoshina seemed unfazed.

“Well, this ain’t ideal,” he muttered, his Kansai accent slipping into his voice as he shifted slightly.

“Operations room, this is Hoshina!” he called into his earpiece. “The attack of the other beast caused our footing to collapse, and we’ve been buried under rubble in the ○ area! There’s a possibility of secondary damage, so we’ve determined it’ll be difficult to escape by releasing our fighting forces. Please send immediate support.”

Konomi Okonogi’s voice crackled back. “Copy that, Vice Captain. Are you and the recruit injured?”

“Nah, we’re fine fer now,” he replied. “But ya might wanna hurry—this ain’t exactly comfortable.”

“I’ll dispatch reinforcements immediately,” Konomi said. “Hold tight.”

As the earpiece fell silent, Hoshina shifted again, trying to ease the pressure on your legs. “I’ll be like this for a while. If the position’s uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

You huffed quietly, muttering, “Ha... yes.”

Hoshina chuckled lightly, his lavender eyes glinting in the dim light. “Still givin’ me the silent treatment, huh? Four days, rookie. Gotta admit, I’m impressed by your commitment.”

You bit your lip, refusing to meet his gaze.

“C’mon,” he said, his tone softening. “Look, I’m sorry ‘bout the Mont Blanc, alright? I didn’t know it meant so much to ya.”

Still, you didn’t respond, though your silence felt less like defiance and more like hesitation. Hoshina tilted his head, his expression turning curious. “Wait… was it somethin’ special?”

Finally, you sighed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “It wasn’t just for me. It was a gift. From the whole recruitment team. For you.”

Hoshina froze, the weight of your words sinking in. “For... me?”

You nodded, looking away. “We wanted to thank you for being such a great mentor. Everyone chipped in to get it. And you just... ate it without even knowing.”

There was a long pause before Hoshina let out a low laugh—not mocking, but warm and slightly self-deprecating. “Well, damn. Guess I really screwed up, huh?”

You didn’t answer, but your pout deepened.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice taking on a playful lilt. “How ‘bout this? I’ll make it up to ya. I’ll treat the whole team to somethin’ better. Or maybe I’ll bake one myself. Couldn’t be that hard, right?”

You snorted softly, unable to hide your amusement. “You? Baking? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Hoshina smirked. “Don’t underestimate me, rookie. I’ve got plenty of skills you don’t know ‘bout yet.”

The tension between you began to ease, his lighthearted banter making the situation feel less dire. His voice dropped into a softer tone as he continued, “Y’know, for someone givin’ me the cold shoulder, you sure look cute when you’re mad. Maybe I oughta mess up more often.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “Don’t push your luck, Vice Captain.”

Hoshina shifted slightly, careful not to worsen the situation. “Alright, rookie,” he said softly, his Kansai accent thick but his tone unusually tender. “This ain’t exactly how I imagined spendin’ the night with ya, but I reckon it could be worse.”

You turned your head to avoid looking at him directly, your face flushed. “Vice Captain, now’s not the time for jokes.”

“Who said I’m jokin’?” he teased, though his lavender eyes softened. “Honestly, though… I’m sorry. Not just about the Mont Blanc. ‘Bout the whole thing. If I’d known it was somethin’ so special, I’d have guarded it like my swords. You didn’t deserve me makin’ ya feel ignored.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “It… It wasn’t just for me. It was from all of us.”

“I get it now,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “And I’m touched, rookie. More than you know. Y’all wanted to thank me, but here I am makin’ a mess of it. Guess I owe y’all big time, huh?”

You hesitated, your pout lingering as you muttered, “It’s not about owing us…”

Hoshina’s gaze softened further, his smirk fading into a rare, gentle smile. “Nah, it is to me. Yer one of the most dedicated recruits I’ve had the pleasure of workin’ with, ya know that? Yer silent treatment these past days—it hurt more than I thought it would. Made me realize how much I enjoy our chats, even when yer givin’ me sass.”

Your cheeks flushed, but before you could respond, he continued, his tone turning more playful again.

“Plus, ya look kinda cute when yer mad,” he drawled with a wink. “Almost makes me wanna steal more desserts just to see ya all pouty again.”

“Vice Captain!” you protested, finally meeting his gaze, though your embarrassment was evident.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now. But seriously, rookie… Thanks for tellin’ me the truth. I’ll make it up to ya somehow, even if it means learnin’ to bake somethin’ better than a Mont Blanc. Think I could manage that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your annoyance starting to melt away. “I don’t think anyone would survive that experiment, Vice Captain.”

“Ya wound me, rookie,” he said dramatically, though his grin didn’t fade. “Guess I’ll stick to what I’m good at, then—swordplay and sweet talkin’ ya outta yer bad mood.”

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at your lips. The atmosphere between you grew lighter, even as fatigue began to settle over you.

Hoshina noticed the way your eyelids started to droop, and his expression softened again. “Hey, don’t tell me yer driftin’ off already,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “Ain’t exactly the best time for a nap, rookie.”

“I can’t help it…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long day…”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” he replied, adjusting his position slightly to give you more support. His shoulder became your makeshift pillow, and he made no effort to move you. “Guess I’ll just sit here an’ keep ya safe till help gets here. Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”

The warmth in his voice made your heart flutter, but the weight of exhaustion pulled you under before you could say anything more.

Hoshina tilted his head slightly to glance at you, a rare softness overtaking his features as he watched you sleep. “Ya really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don’t ya?” he murmured.

For a moment, he let the silence linger, the chaos outside feeling worlds away. “You’re somethin’ else, rookie,” he added quietly. “An’ maybe… maybe it’s not just yer fightin’ spirit that’s got me so hooked.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the rubble as his eyes flickered closed for a moment. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around long enough to figure out the rest, huh?”

The faint sound of distant footsteps signaled the arrival of reinforcements, but Hoshina didn’t move. Not yet. For now, he stayed still, letting you rest against him, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Hoshina smirked faintly, his voice soft as he murmured, “Guess I owe ya more than just a Mont Blanc, huh?”

[mullermilkshake]

My own little spin on something I hold very close to my heart, I hope this is a lil something you're looking for!! <3 @your-boba-tea

Phantom theOpera!SatoruGojo x Fem!reader

Feat. Suguru Geto, Masamichi Yaga, mentions Ino, Maki, Miwa.

Tags -> Yandere!, mentions and implies hanging, stalking, violence, obsession, dark, mentions of death, manipulation, physical harm

“Alright people, that's a wrap for now, go take a break!”

You slouched and groaned, the heat of the stage lights practically melting your makeup from your cheeks all the while still hung in Suguru’s arms as your cue dictated.

“This corset is really starting to kill my hips, I don’t know if I can keep this going until the end tonight.” You pulled away from him and waved the director off, adjusting yourself and slipping off the little shoes so that your feet were now bare.

“You’ll do fine,’ Suguru said, sliding off his own jacket and folding it neatly over his arm. “You were made for this part and after you do this show tonight, you’ll breeze past the others.”

It wasn’t the first time you had taken to the stage alongside Suguru Geto and it sure wasn’t the last either. Being veteran’s on stage sure helped create chemistry like no other, in fact you had not met someone like Suguru who made everything so effortless. So exhilarating.

You started your walk off stage, raising your arms and stretching your back out as much as the corset would allow. “Yeah… I just wish Miwa would sew in more flexible fabric, I feel so stiff.”

"Given the time period, it’s incredibly accurate.”

A scoff fell past your lips, “I don’t know how people sang opera in these, I can barely breathe.”

“Yet you have the voice of an angel.”

“You flatter me too much, Suguru. Some people might think you have a thing for me.” You paused and eyed him closely and he stopped just as you did just shy of the gathered stage curtain.

As though on cue, Suguru and yourself cringed at the mere thought of a relationship. Suguru shook his head, “Don’t give me nightmares, I won’t sleep otherwise.”

The absurdity of it made you chuckle. “Come on, you love me really, right?”

Being as close as you were, the pair of you were often met with speculation and assumptions to what your relationship really was. The two of you often shared a dressing room for the hell of it which usually led others to think the worst in your eyes, though you didn’t care.

Suguru had seen you naked more times than you cared to think. Kissing on stage came as naturally as taking a breath. But he just wasn’t your type. And you weren’t his.

He shook his head and playfully shoved you with his shoulder as he led you down to the dressing room. “I wouldn’t go that far, you whine a lot and it makes my head hurt.”

“Pfft! We all know you’re the biggest diva here and you should have taken the role of Carlotta. Such a primadonna.”

Suguru had a complaint about anything and everything, often stalling his cue because his hair just wasn’t right. Poor Maki’s body language brought her close to blowing a fuse huffing in front of him to put that strand of hair back in place.

“I was sure Maki was going to throw that blow dryer at your head the way she was cursing to herself.” Shaking your head disapprovingly, you wandered towards the little set of stairs to the dressing rooms.

“Thirty minutes you two, don’t be late and miss your cue this time.”

“Yes Masamichi.” Why the man was even saying your name was a mystery, you were on stage perfectly on time during every rehearsal.

Suguru matched your pace and leant over so his mouth was as close to your ear as he could. “He said your name because you’re insufferable.”

“How am I?” One step at a time, you stomped down them with a huff. “At least I’m on time.”

“You left to get take out and ended up twenty minutes late-”

“That was one time, Suguru. I thought we’d dropped that already?” You stretched again and opened the door to your dressing room, he followed you inside.

A chill ran down your spine and spurred on goosebumps down your bare arms. “Man, this dressing room always gives me the creeps, I always feel like I’m being watched. I really ought to ask Masamichi for a new one.”

“Like he’d actually allow it this close to the opening of the show. You’ll be fine, just don’t think about it.”

You sat down and faced away from the weird looking doorway which had long been wallpapered over, but the paper lining always seemed to deteriorate quickly no matter how much paper covered it. By now, there were countless theatre posters and programmes from previous endeavours stuck along the door line to hide it.

“That’s easier said than done. It’s like I'm being leered at all the time by some weirdo.” You stared back at the sealed door and tried to cast it from the back of your mind.

“Maybe it’s the ghost-”

“Don’t joke about that stuff, Suguru!”

“What?” He dodged your poorly thrown pillow and did his worst to hide his laughter. “There is a ghost here… some might even say a phantom-”

“I said stop it! You aren’t funny. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Suguru shrugged, flopping down on the little seat next to you in the corner and pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the dressing room door. “Do you remember the time that Masamichi called in sick and Gakuganji took over in his place for that week?”

You nodded with reluctance and Suguru continued his story. “He told me that there was a shadow of a man as tall as me running about the place up in the rafters with a scar running from his forehead, down to his chin. A phantom… And he just so happens to attach himself to one person in particular, wanting to give them tips and advice on how to improve their skill." He wiggled his fingers to enhance the creepiness. "I mean, who keeps giving you roses after each performance?”

“That’s you giving me roses every time, don’t act smart, asshole. And, now you’re just reeling off the plot for the performance tonight. You aren’t fooling me, Suguru Geto. I’m having a hard enough job trying to nail these notes, opera isn’t my strongest suit and I don’t need you putting childish stories into my head, you’re such a dick.” 

“And…” He paused dramatically. “I heard this ghost was even responsible for that death last year, you remember what happened to Ino?”

You shook your head and frowned at him. “That was an accident and you know it. The ropes got all tangled, it can happen.”

“Can it? Did you ever stop and really think about it?”

“Stop, you’re creeping me out.”

Suguru sat closer and wrapped his arm around you for comfort, pulling you in and resting his head on yours. “I’m sorry, I’m only kidding. But who knows, maybe the ghost will show up in the performance tonight? Will you really be kissing Nanami as the Phantom? Or will it be the ghost- boo!”

You flinched at Suguru’s fingers moving to poke you through the uncomfortable corset. “Suguru you fucker!”

This time, the pillow did not miss.

He laughed again and climbed up from the chair to avoid the barrage of pillow swings.  “I’m kidding- I’m kidding!”

“You better be!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, you scaredy cat.”

“I’m not dramatic, don’t be a shit stirrer!” Folding your arms angrily you got to your feet too.

His cheeky grin made your anger fester and he must have noted that because his expression fell just a little. “Wait here and I’ll get us a drink, you want some chocolate?”

“Of course. I do.” You poked your tongue out at him and watched him turn to leave.

“Anything for the lead star.”

“Ugh!” It was a little growl that left your throat once you were left on your own in silence. “He’s the insufferable one!”

Suguru Geto always pulled stunts like this. A main reason why he would never ever be your type of man to sweep you off your feet and cast in his arms towards the sunset. You wanted a man who cared for you and stopped others from putting you down whilst you lived your dream on stage.

The one thing you always wanted since you were a child.

And now you were doing just that.

Clearing your throat, you practiced some warm up and trilled your lips to loosen them and shivered. Turning to face the rest of the room, you froze on the spot and not because of the drop in temperature, but because the sealed door adorned with paper was now open.

It happened so…

You had no words. It just opened and you were none the wiser. 

“Suguru?” You called to no one, the whistled draft filtering out of the long tunnel as though calling you to enter it.

“Suguru, this isn’t funny.”

Still, there was nothing.

You took one step at a time, creeping towards the threshold to hold onto the flapping papers taped to the door. “If this is a joke, it’s not a funny one.”

No one responded.

I didn’t even know there was a tunnel behind this door.

Leaning past the threshold, your feet remained stuck where they were in the safe confines of the dressing room. The closer you got, the more the whistling air sounded like words.

You gasped and tripped, falling back right onto the floor. The wind had spoken your name. “Who’s there?”

The ghost- you shook your head as hard as you could to push the words Suguru tempted you with from your head. Stories like that could not come true, just pure fiction and it startled you over a bit of wind.

Suguru would not let you live this down.

There came that sensation of being leered at, right down the end of that tunnel. It set every single alarm bell off in your gut, yet it did nothing to stop you from getting up and taking another look.

“Show yourself!”

Movement from the end of the tunnel took your breath away but it did not cast you away. You remained where you were and waited for another bump of movement. All that came was your name again.

Had time slowed down? You finally stepped over the threshold and planted your barefoot on the scratchy cement, little rocks and dust collecting on the soles of your feet yet you didn’t care.

Even blinking took effort, though walking towards the sound became effortless as if it was coaxing you towards it, begging you to just take one more step.

Just one more step.

And another.

One more.

A second had passed you thought, yet you were at the end of the hallway looking back towards the dressing room, noting how the door seemed to close on its own. You did not pay too much attention until you were off again.

“I should… go back.”

Should you? Was it a good idea, or a bad one? You weren’t even sure where you were anymore, but you did not care.

Suguru will be looking for me… when was my cue again?

Blinking became difficult, breathing laboured enough to make you light headed and unable to realise at first that you had finally stopped walking. You were left stranded in silence with only the breathing of the room as though it were a rickety old rib cage expanding and retracting and struggling to keep its shape.

“I should…”

You noticed the music immediately and it sort of brought you out of your thoughts for a brief period of time. Music you had never heard before. Beautiful music. Stunningly played and well written wit a dark drawl in its notes with a hint of sadness like an aftertaste.

Stepping into the room and down the three little steps, a corner of the room came into focus that hadn’t been there initially. Someone was playing on a grand piano that could have been taken from the orchestra pit upstairs, in fact the person playing such beautiful music could have been someone from the orchestra pit.

No. That was an insult to the player, for they were far beyond the orchestra’s limits. Whoever it was, played the notes in such a way that it made your eyes weep and dampen your cheeks.

“You..” What could you say to this mysterious stranger?

“So you finally made it then?” He said, his arms moving so delicately along the keys they almost never touched.

“Uh… I don’t-”

“Come over here.” He did not turn to you, he just kept playing.

And like that, your feet were taking you over there straight to the mystery man who bore no aggression to you for infiltrating his… home? He never showed care it seemed, not until you stopped right beside him and observed him play.

The music stopped abruptly, his breathing lulled you into a sense of security when he stood where the height difference mattered. “Welcome home.”

Home? You were not home… Wait, where were you?

This stranger smiled at you like you were familiar. Like how Suguru would treat you. This man was nothing like Suguru, white hair fairer than snow, perfectly brushed back and flat as though he was ready to take the stage on Masamichi’s cue.

You might have even called him handsome had you gotten a good look at him in the low lit room of flickering candles. Half of his face had been hidden by a face covering. 

Just like the Phantom of the Opera…

“Who.. who are you?” You hadn’t pulled yourself from this trance you were in, but you were trying.

Was this who had been giving you the creeps from that dressing room this whole time?

“You don’t remember?” A flicker of annoyance moved past his face. His eye twitched a little whilst he studied your face.

“I don’t.” Shaking your head made the room spin. “I...I can’t remember you. I’m sorry.”

Now that the music had ended, you were certain that it was making you drowsy, so you intended to go back to your dressing room. He caught you as you turned to leave back the way you came, digging his nails into your arm and that seemed to wake you up.

“Ouch! Please don’t do that, I want to go.”

“I do so much for you and you repay me by doing this?” He almost growled, it stuck in his throat to threaten you.

“I really don’t know who you are, please let me go.” Tugging away from him only moved you. He stayed as he stood and glared at you like you had done something so unforgivable.

“Y’know, I waited. I bided my time until that weak little man left your dressing room for once to finally speak to you and you do this? You rub him in my face across the whole theatre like you know what you’re doing. Seeing that man kiss you makes my stomach churn and twist like it’s on fire- how could you do this?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about, I’m just a performer, it’s my job!”

“You’re so much more than that and you don’t even see it. I’m stuck down here, you’re a world apart and you are squandering it.” His tone was so calm, his grip never loosened. “He is stopping you from reaching your full potential.”

He, as in Suguru? You were fully aware of your situation and the room had twisted and morphed into something dilapidated and dusty. Forgotten. The pristine and perfect vision of music was shattered like glass.

“Please… Please let me go.” 

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

Reluctantly you shook your head and awaited his next emotional change, yet it never came. “This won’t do. You have a show tonight and I never miss your performances. I can’t keep you here, but if I let you go I’ll be forced to apprehend you if you try and leave.”

His expression was conflicted, his fingers around your arm never eased off and matched his wooden glare across the makeshift room. “You’ll do your part and I’ll come and get you after, no one will interfere, not if they don’t want another accident like last year.”

You couldn’t breathe, the air had gone from the room. ‘I heard this ghost was even responsible for that death last year, you remember what happened to Ino?’

“You can’t be the- Look, I don’t want any trouble, I just want to go back and play my role so I can go home!”

“And who do you think got you that starring role?” He yanked you back, closing the gap so that half of his exposed face was almost flush with your own. “I put your file on top of the pile when no one was looking. I got you that dressing room so we could be close to each other and I put those roses in your dressing room after every performance and you never noticed… I only want you to do your best.”

If the horrid pause in the room weighed any more, it would have crushed you. “I love you. I always have.”

Love? You didn’t even know the man.

“I’ll teach you, guide you and protect you so that you can be the best. But you have to trust me.”

That was the thing. You didn’t trust this man as far as you could throw him and he’d just admitted to stalking you and murdering someone.

It was paramount that you approached this with caution. “Okay… I’ll go now so I can get better for the show tonight.”

Fuck the show. I’m leaving and never coming back.

“You liar.” He said, his voice so low it was practically non-existent.

“What? No, no I promise!”

“Shit!" His breathing became ragged, his eye wider than before. "I have no choice... then you aren’t leaving until I can trust you.” He tugged your arm and pulled you towards the door you came through, kicking it shut and locking it tight right before your eyes. “You’ll just leave me like the others did, but I won’t be broken again.”

Others?

“I won’t, I’ll come straight back- please I promise I won’t do anything bad!” You struggled and pushed against him, never really noticing where your hands were moving.

You pulled the covering from his face and gasped at the long forehead to chin scar down his face, just like Suguru had said.

The Phantom was real?

The Phantom was real.

The Phantom was real and stood right in front of you, threatening your freedom with one tight grasp and an expression of hurt and betrayal laced in his eyes. Would you ever get past that locked door?

You missed your cue, again.

Cross posted on my AO3

Okay but HEAR ME OUT YALL

Gojo as phantom of the opera??? I’m screaming.

I WILL PAY FOR SOMEONE TO WRITE OR DRAW THIS IM BEGGING ON MY KNEES

[doublel27]

i joined thai bl fandom about six months ago, and although i will keep watching thai bl/gl/ql shows, all this latest stuff has been the final nail in the coffin of my enjoyment in fandom. i've been in fandom for about 20 years and i think along with the dead internet we very much have dead fandom. where communities used to be about fic, fanart, fanmixes, etc now it's just criticisms. do people really enjoy this? constant negativity? i appreciate your voice here and am grateful somebody is standing up for people. there are too many bad faith discourse generators in this fandom unfortunately.

Thank you so much! It breaks my heart that you feel this way. The fact that people don’t feel safe to speak publicly or reblog stuff because of a small vocal minority is incredibly sad and disappointing. I am also a fandom old. 24 years baby!

I mean, I don’t think the social media and increasingly isolationist views have helped with fandom, but this energy has been in fandom for a long time. I survived Cassandra Clare’s minions in the fandom that shall not be named and someone having a tantrum (to years after I had said something and left the group) where she deleted an entire EZ-board full of years worth of X-Men role-play writing because more people stood up to her. It keeps happening and always does when people get into feedback loops and don’t engage outside of narrow focus.

I know it seems like a lot of people engaging in bad faith discourse, but this experience has shown me how small that circle is despite how loud and how much they write and reblog each others posts. But also how many people don’t engage with them. There are so many people doing beautiful things in this fandom: edits/gifsets, fanart, fanfiction. There are wonderful things happening, but it does require some hunting.

Someone was talking about creators of gifsets using (fandom name)edits so people could avoid everything in the tags and I wonder if a bunch of us could use consistent thaibl(type of art) as well as (fandom name)edit so that there are some tags that are focused on creation.

Because we can’t change the behavior of bad actors. I have no intention of changing their behavior. That’s not why I said anything. I said something because people deserve a fandom experience where they’re not harassed. And people who are harassed deserve someone to say that’s not okay.

I’m sorry you’re leaving fandom, but sometimes it’s necessary if it’s not bringing you joy! And you can change your mind. I was never coming back to fandom after X-Men, and here I am.

But my ask box and my DMs are open. 💜💜💜

[forevfangirlwrites]

Hey!!! I just wanted to start out by saying how much I love your work!! I look forward to everything you put out!! I was rereading the original how to handle fame, and there was one part where Jason said that Annabeth said she didn’t hate it when she told him about her interaction with Percy. I’m just curious to know how that conversation went between Annabeth and Jason. I can only imagine how Jason responded 😂

“Annabeth, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jason says as soon as he picks up the call. She shakes her head at his antics, leaning back into her couch.

“Are you busy?” she asks, ignoring his statement.

“I’ve got some time before the next scene and I’d prefer not to engage in a conversation with the producer walking this way, so please,” he replies, fervently.

Annabeth smiles. “I guess I’ll save you.”

“Appreciated,” Jason jokes back. “So what’s up?”

What is up…honestly, she’s not sure why she’s calling about it. It could have been a text and there’s not really too much to say other than the fact the barista from Cali’s Café has not left her mind all day. (And she isn’t going to say that because she’s aware it sounds a little insane.)

“I checked out the café you told me about,” she starts slowly.

“Oh, awesome! Did you like it? The coffee is good and the place is lowkey, right?”

“Yeah, the coffee was good.” She pauses, unsure of what to say next. Does she ask about Percy? What could Jason even tell her?

“Why am I sensing a but? Was the service not good? I always have the guy, Percy, and he’s super chill. Not sure how the other employees are.”

“I met Percy,” she says. The picture of his face and sea-green eyes comes clearly to her mind the moment his name is spoken.

“What happened?” Jason asks, clearly sensing that something had, in fact, happened.

But really, nothing had happened. Sure he’d been awkward, endearingly so, but very sweet and had made great coffee.

No, he hadn’t done anything wrong. She is the problem.

“Nothing,” she replies. “He was awkward but it was cute. He forgot to charge me and said my coffee was on the house when I brought it up.” A smile surfaces as she remembers his cheeks getting red.

“Really? My order has never been on the house.” She suspects Jason might be frowning.

Chuckling, she replies. “Guess he like me more.”

“Are we in competition over a barista?” Jason asks and she imagines him raising an eyebrow at her.

She pulls the blanket closer to her chest and re-settles herself.

“No,” she replies easily. “I’ve already won.”

“Rude,” he jokes, before his tone turns serious. “I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable though. Honestly, he handled Thalia very well so I thought it would be alright.”

“Not at all!” She rushes to explain. “I was not uncomfortable, it was good and I’ll be going back.”

No Percy had not made her feel uncomfortable, just…intrigued. In the way that she wants to go back and see him again.

“Okay good, I’m glad to hear that. I’ll be going tomorrow morning anyway—oh, they’re calling me, gotta go.”

“Yep, talk to you later,” she says, as she hangs up the phone. She stares at the black tv screen she has yet to turn on.

So Jason is going tomorrow? Maybe she should tag along…just to see how Percy is with Jason. It’s for science really, nothing more than that.

READ MORE ON how to handle fame and headcanons

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt! I decided to add it to how to handle fame and headcanons as a little drabble, hope you enjoyed! I appreciate your support for the series! Thanks again!